She felt what little choice she had driven away by Wentus’s words. The way was the way. She was an Alliance officer…and that came before everything.

“Very well, Optiomagis. Initiate one-quarter thrust, directly toward the enemy.” One-quarter was the best Invictus could manage while firing its batteries at full strength. And she wasn’t going to stop firing, not for an instant. Not until that ship was nothing but superheated plasma.

“One-quarter thrust, Commander. Toward the enemy.”

Kat sat in her chair, looking forward. She felt the imperative she’d been bred and raised to feel. The need for victory. But part of her hated to destroy such a worthy foe, and she remembered her earlier thoughts, and Commander Vennius’s words…of the Confederation as an ally and not an enemy.

But that was not the way fate had chosen for things, and it wasn’t for her to question orders. She could feel regret, wonder what might have been…but no more than that. The way was the way.

“All weapons, continue maximum fire.”

*   *   *

Barron sat in the dim light of the bridge, the only illumination coming from the battery-powered emergency lights. The reactors were both down, though not because of battle damage, as it appeared to anyone watching. Dauntless was playing dead, floating powerless in space, her guns silent. It was a gamble, a desperate one. But it was their best chance at victory.

The ship shook again, the sounds of tortured structural elements twisting and groaning in the depths of the vessel. Barron knew Dauntless couldn’t take much more pounding. Any hit could knock out the carefully, but tenuously repaired primary guns. That would be the end. The silence of Barron’s secondaries sacrificed any other chances the Confederation vessel had of winning the fight, however remote they might have been. If Fritz and her people couldn’t flash restart the reactors, they would all die. If the primaries were damaged again, they would die. Barron had bet all their lives on one desperate gamble.

“Enemy is accelerating again, Captain. Directly toward us.”

Barron inhaled deeply, feeling like he hadn’t taken a breath in hours. The enemy had just sat there for what had seemed like an eternity, though he knew it had been no more than a minute. He’d almost resigned himself to despair, believing his adversary had refused to take the bait. But now the enemy was coming. Just as he’d planned…and his stomach shriveled into a knot.

“Primary crews stand by.”

“Primary crews ready, Captain.”

He tapped the com. “Ready, Fritzie?”

“We’re ready, sir.” The voice on the com sounded anything but.

“Lieutenant Darrow, range.”

“Ninety thousand kilometers. Velocity, two hundred kilometers per second.”

“Fritzie, how long to start up the reactors?”

“A minute, Captain. If we get lucky.”

I should wait…I’d love to get the shot off at fifty thousand…but I can’t cut it that close…