Startide Rising (The Uplift Saga, #2) - David Brin Page 0,170

Beams stabbed out to blast at Streaker’s damaged side, at what the Brothers of the Night thought was their supine enemy’s real hull.

Streaker shook as the beams penetrated her shields and struck the Thennanin armor. Stasis flickered, giving them all eerily vivid feelings of déjà vu. Even in the water-filled bridge the blasts nearly threw the crew from their stations. Damage control spotters screamed reports of smoke and fire, of melting armor and buckling walls.

The cruisers drifted confidently into the mined region, and the missiles exploded.

Gillian clutched a handrail whitely. On those sensors that had not been blasted to vapor, the enemy was hidden by a cloud of roiling gas.

“Hard thrussst, twenty degrees by two seventy!” Tsh’t called. “Stop roll and pitch!”

The abused engines struggled. The bracings holding Streaker to her armored shell groaned as she accelerated in a new direction.

“Blessings on that damned Thennanin armor!” One of the fins sighed. “Those beams would’ve sliced Streaker like toasssst!”

Gillian peered into one of the few operational holotanks, straining to see through the space-smoke and debris. Finally, she saw the enemy.

“A hit! A palpable hit!” she exulted.

One of the battlewagons bore a gaping hole in its side, burning metal still curled away from the cavity, and secondary explosions shook the cruiser.

The other one appeared undamaged, but more wary than before.

Oh, keep hesitating, she urged them silently. Let us get a head start!

“Anybody else around?” she asked Tsh’t. If these two ships were the only ones left, she’d be willing to turn the engines back on full power, and let even the devil know they were an Earth ship!

The lieutenant blinked. “Yes, Gillian. Six more. Approaching rapidly.” Tsh’t shook her head. “There’s no way we’ll get away from this new bunch. They’re coming too fasst. Sorry, Gillian.”

“The Brothers have made up their minds,” Wattaceti announced. “They’re coming after uss!”

Tsh’t rolled her eyes. Gillian silently agreed. We won’t fool them again.

“Suessi calls. He wants to know ifff …”

Gillian sighed. “Tell Hannes there don’t seem to be any more ‘female tricks’ forthcoming. I’m fresh out of ideas.”

The two battleships drew nearer, chasing Streaker’s stern. They held their fire, saving it for a total assault.

Gillian thought about Tom. She couldn’t help feeling that she had failed him.

It really was a good plan, hon. I only wish I’d executed it competently for you.

The enemy bore down on them, looming ominously.

Then Lucky Kaa shouted. “Vector change!” The pilot’s tail thrashed. “They’re veering offff! Fleeing like mullet-t!”

Gillian blinked in confusion. “But they had us!”

“It’s the newcomers, Gillian! Those six oncoming shipsss!” Tsh’t shouted joyfully.

“What? What about them?”

Tsh’t grinned as broadly as a neo-fin could manage. “They’re Thennanin! They’re coming in blassting! And it’sss not us they’re shooting at!”

The screens showed the pair of cruisers that had been chasing them, now in full flight, firing Parthian style at the approaching mini-flotilla.

Gillian laughed. “Wattaceti! Tell Suessi to shut down! Put everything on idle and pour out smoke. We want to play the gravely wounded soldier!”

After a moment came the engineer’s reply.

“Suessi says that that-t will be no problem. No problem at all.”

121

Galactics

Buoult’s crest riffled with waves of emotion. Krondorsfire lay ahead of them, battered but proud. He had thought the old battlewagon lost since the first day of the battle, and Baron Ebremsev, its commander. Buoult longed to see his old comrade again.

“Is there still no response?” he asked the communicator.

“No, Commander. The ship is silent. It is possible they just now sustained a fatal blow that … Wait! There is something! A flashing-light signal in uncoded open-talk! They are sending from one of the viewing ports!”

Buoult edged forward eagerly. “What do they say? Do they require help?”

The communications officer huddled before his monitor, watching the winking lights, jotting notes.

“All weapons and communications destroyed,” he recited, “life support and auxiliary drives still serviceable … Earthlings ahead, chased by a few dregs … We shall withdraw … happy hunting … Krondorsfire out.”

Buoult thought the message a little odd. Why would Ebremsev want to pull out if he could still follow and at least draw fire from the enemy? Perhaps he was making a brave show in order not to hold them back. Buoult was about to insist on sending aid anyway when the communications officer spoke again.

“Commander! A squadron is outbound from the water planet! At least ten vessels! I read signs of both Tandu and Soro!”

Buoult’s crest momentarily collapsed. It had come to pass, the very last alliance of heretics.

“We have one chance! After the fugitives at once! We can overpower