Balancing the steaming cups in her hands, Jane climbed onto the deck and made her way up to the bridge as she had done in the morning watches all that week. She shivered as she emerged from the companionway and wished she had remembered to bring her shawl. The ship was shrouded in dense, foggy clouds, even though a rising wind was blowing in a manner that even Jane knew meant that a storm was coming. Shrugging her shoulders against it, she made it to the top step and looked across the bridge to where Amelia was standing.

"Permission to come to the bridge?" she called.

"Granted," Amelia replied. She folded away her telescope, hung it in her belt next to her cutlass and watched as Jane made her way to join her, exchanging friendly nods with Bryce and Arrow, who were in conversation by the console, and with the spacer at the helm. She handed over one of the drinks and Amelia cupped her hands around it appreciatively.

"An excellent idea," she said. "It's a fresh morning today."

"It certainly is." Jane shivered again. "It feels like there's a storm on the way."

Amelia raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Well, well. Your space senses are improving, Miss Porter. The barometer has fallen five points overnight."

"I hope that's the only thing that's gone down," said Jane. "Is everything else all right?"

"All quiet," said Amelia. "Too quiet for my tastes. And if our calculations based on Callario's information were correct...then it means we're not alone out here this morning."

Jane looked at her anxiously. "You think...that the corsair is here somewhere?"

"If we're to believe Mr Callario," said Amelia. "And I say that in full recognition that it may not be a good idea. But we're back on the convoy route, right about where the convoy should be at this time. So if they're here..."

"Then this could be the morning," said Jane quietly. "The morning we meet them."

Amelia looked at her sympathetically and felt her heart go out to her at the sight of the uncertainty on her face. "Yes. It could well be."

Jane looked out into the haze. "You know, it's not that I want to, really...but after a whole week of waiting and watching, part of me does just want to get it started and over with."

Amelia gave her a dry smile. "That's probably a good sign."

Jane laughed. "I suppose so, yes."

Arrow joined them, looking grim. "There's no sign of the weather abating, ma'am."

Amelia nodded. "Yes, I think we're stuck with this, Mr Arrow." She looked at the mist around them. It was an unbroken wall of shifting silver, strangely reflective so that even searchlights or telescopes were unable to penetrate it.

"It's like that morning we lost that merchant ship," Jane murmured. "Do you remember, Amelia?"

Amelia nodded, her eyes flashing with anger for a moment. "I'm unlikely to forget. It's ambush weather."

"Where you can't see the enemy unless they're at point-blank range," said Jane, remembering the conversation they'd shared that morning.

"Precisely." Amelia nodded.

Sergeant Ko arrived on the bridge, touching her hat to the officers.

"Morning watch set, sir," she reported to Arrow. "All stations secure.'

"Very good, sergeant." Arrow returned the salute. "I think we'll take an hour of drill on the foredeck this morning, if there is no objection?"

Amelia shook her head. "No objection. The foredeck should be clear until 0930."

"Thank you, ma'am." Arrow touched his hat in thanks. "See to it, sergeant."

"Aye, sir!" Ko saluted and grinned.

Jane watched the two marines in conversation. It seemed like a normal day on board, with the officers and crew going about their normal routines and planning the day, but she could feel the undercurrent of tension. Everyone on board knew that the enemy could be near, and in this weather – ambush weather, as Amelia had graphically described it – the enemy could be very near indeed. As normal as everything seemed, it was a normality that Jane knew could be violently broken at any moment. She found herself sighing at the notion. Amelia's ears perked up as she heard the small sound.

"Miss Porter? Are you all right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Jane bit her lip, embarrassed. "Yes, I'm just fine, thank you."

Amelia nodded and smiled encouragingly. She turned back to the console and Jane looked away, but then they suddenly both looked back astern of the ship. Jane blinked.

"A...Amelia? Did you see that?"

Amelia nodded, her green eyes narrow. "Yes. I saw it."

"It looked like...flashes..." said Jane. "Flashes of light. Could it be the storm coming?"

"Could be..." Amelia took up her telescope again and put it to her eye, but could see only the fog. Jane joined her as she moved to the stern, scanning the clouds.

"You don't suppose..." Jane said quietly.

"That's exactly what I'm wondering," Amelia glared at the empty fog. She was about to give up hope when she saw it again – a series of bright flashes, followed by another series as if in reply. It was almost impossible to tell the distance and she cursed the weather.

"Ma'am?" Bryce had seen her looking aft and joined her. Amelia frowned in concentration. Bryce watched her for a moment, trying to read her face, but she kept herself impassive as she reminded herself not to display uncertainly in front of a subordinate. Another few flashes came through the clouds and this time Bryce saw them as well.

"Ma'am!"

"I saw it, Mr Bryce," Amelia snapped, angry at herself for appearing indecisive.

"What was it?" asked Jane, nervously. "Lightning? Or..."

Amelia drummed her fingers on the ship's rail. It might have been the approaching storm – a sudden burst of lightning discharging itself into space. But equally, it may not have been. And her next decision could well decide the fate of the ship.

"Shall we clear for action, ma'am?" asked Bryce, voicing the question that was on her mind.

Amelia's face was a mask as the wheels of her mind whirred. As the officer of the watch, the Resolute was technically at her command. With a word, she could send its crew tumbling from their hammocks or running from all corners of the vessel to their battle stations. She could bring her fellow officers hurrying to the bridge. She could even summon the Captain himself, and she had a brief flash of hesitation at the thought of causing such a commotion and then having to explain herself to Forsythe if it really did turn out to be no more than an energetic storm cloud. But then she pictured herself having to explain to Forsythe why she had allowed them to be caught off-guard by the enemy, and knew in an instant that she had only one real choice. Grateful for the certainty, she straightened her back, folded her arms behind her and nodded firmly.

"Yes, Mr Bryce. We shall clear for action."

"Aye, ma'am!"

Amelia span on her heel and strode across the bridge, calling out orders. "Mr Arrow! Get your troops into position at once! Sergeant Ko, pass the word for the Captain! All hands, brace yards and backstays and prepare to come about!"

The ship's klaxon sounded and Bryce's voice echoed over the tannoy as he called the crew to battle stations. Jane hurried after Amelia.

"So you don't think it's the storm?" she asked.

"That, Miss Porter, is cannon fire," said Amelia, running her eye over the console displays. "Mr Bryce! Get hands aloft and open all jiggers and staysails! I want maximum power translation to the rudder and thrusters! Then prepare to trim topsails and brace all back as we begin the turn!"

Jane bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder again. The wind was still rising, but that wasn't why she felt a chill run down her spine. The normal day was over.

"I...I should get back to the sickbay," she said softly.

"Very good, Miss Porter." Amelia's eyes were fixed on the displays.

"Be careful, won't you?" Jane murmured.

Amelia looked up, and her gaze softened as she saw Jane's face. She smiled.

"Of course. And you as well."

Jane smiled back. "I'm sure I'll be quite safe."

"Lieutenant Amelia! Report!" Captain Forsythe stalked onto the bridge. Amelia saluted.

"Possible enemy contact behind us, sir."

"Any sighting?"

"No, sir. Just flashes through the cloud. Gun flashes, from the pattern and brightness."

"Any signal from the Entreprenante?"

"No, sir, nothing. But if she's been attacked then she may not have had the time. Under the circumstances I thought it best to call the hands to action stations and-"

"Very good, Ms Amelia." Forsythe nodded, waving away the rest of her explanation. "You acted correctly."

Amelia tried not to look as relieved as she felt as she continued her report. "I'm preparing to bring the ship about, sir."

"You're needed at your station," said Forsythe. "You stand relieved of watch."

Amelia saluted. "Aye, sir!"

"The hands stand ready, sir," said Bryce.

Forsythe nodded. "Helm! Full turn through one-eight zero! Trim gallants and topsails and accelerate to combat speed!"

The ship was already turning as Amelia's feet touched the deck and she began hurrying to her station on the upper gun deck. Jane caught her at the top of the companionway.

"This is really it, isn't it?" she said.

"I think so," Amelia nodded. She could tell that Jane was scared, but trusted her strength to keep it hidden. Taking advantage of the spacers and marines running up and down past them, she reached out a hand and touched Jane's arm comfortingly. "But we'll be all right."

Jane smiled, grateful for the small gesture and knowing that Amelia felt more than she could express at that moment. She drew reassurance from the look of determined professionalism in the felinid's eyes and nodded.

"Yes...yes, I'm sure we will be. Thank you."

"Ms Amelia! Charge the guns and load with high impact! Stand by for salvo fire!" Forsythe was calling from the bridge. Amelia looked up and touched her hat in acknowledgment.

"Aye, sir! High impact salvo fire!"

"Good luck," Jane whispered.

Amelia touched her shoulder again. "I hope I won't need it."

Jane smiled, but Amelia was already gone, striding up the middle of the gun deck and calling out her orders. Midshipman Buckley joined her, repeating her commands.

"Open all ports and run out your guns! Single load, high impact!"

Jane watched for a moment before she recalled her own duty and hurried down the companionway before transferring to the stairs which led deep into the ship where the sickbay was. Amelia, supervising a gun crew, looked over her shoulder in time to see Jane disappearing below and for a moment she felt her heart waver.

"Be safe, Jane," she whispered to herself. "Be safe."

"All gun crews standing by, ma'am," said Buckley, appearing behind her and touching his hat.

"Very good," Amelia nodded briskly. "Stand by. The Captain will give us a target before long."

"I hope so, ma'am," Buckley nodded. "I can't see a damned thing in this fog."

Amelia nodded. A germ of an idea suddenly arose in her mind and she turned to the tardy gunners she had been watching. "Belay that loading, there! Gun captain, load with starshell!"

"Starshell, ma'am?" The senior spacer leading the gun crew looked puzzled. "But Captain's orders was for high impact..."

"I know. This is on my authority." Amelia tried to sound confident, knowing that she really was contravening Forsythe's order. "Load with starshell and stand by. You men on the opposite gun as well."

"Er...aye, ma'am..."

Amelia watched as the confused spacers carried out her order, putting the high-impact shells aside and reloading their weapons with white-tipped starshells. She felt the deck under her feet creaking as the ship levelled out again, a sure sign that she had completed her turn and was hurrying back in her own wake to the place where the muzzle flashes had been seen. They might only have moments. She looked up impatiently at a brass panel set into the wall near the ceiling and saw one of the lightbulbs set into it suddenly glow green. She took off her hat and crouched next to the muzzle of one of the guns, looking out at the shifting mist.

"Starshells loaded, ma'am," the gun captain touched his forelock to her.

"Good man." Amelia squinted into the haze. "Stand by. Make sure of your targets and fire only as you bear. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." The man saluted again.

She stood up again and walked down the length of the gun deck. The crew was tense, nervous, but ready. At a time like this, even the sight of enemy was welcomed as it at least simplified matters and prevented the mind from wandering and imagining.

"Steady, spacers," she said. "We'll have to make every shot count. Keep a sharp lookout and report any sightings immediately."

Buckley was kneeling by the forward port side gun with his telescope to his eye, trying to look ahead and to the side of the ship. Amelia knelt behind him.

"Anything?"

"Not so much as a...wait...contact! A ship!" Buckley almost physically jumped.

"Shall we open fire?" the gun captain asked.

"Can you identify her, Mr Buckley?" Amelia insisted. She took out her own telescope and put it to her eye in time to see the stern of a ship vanishing behind a dense patch of cloud, trailing smoke. She recognised the black and white stripes on the hull just in time.

"Hold your fire!" she shouted. "Hold your fire!"

"It's the Entreprenante," said Buckley. "Looks like they hit her pretty hard..."

"Contact, ma'am! Starboard side!" A gunner's yell brought the two officers racing across the deck. A shadow had emerged from the mist, apparently in pursuit of the damaged frigate. There was no mistaking the wedge-shaped, metal-clad bow as it loomed out of the clouds. It was the Malevolence. Amelia felt a thrill of mixed fear and anticipation run through her. A spacer by her side quailed at the sight.

"It's the Crimson Corsair!"

"It's a pirate!" snapped Amelia. "And we will engage it like any other pirate! Stand to your post! Ready salvo fire on my command!"

She felt the ship turn to port in order to bring the entire starboard battery to bear. Reaching up a hand, she braced herself against a ceiling beam and watched the nearest indicator panel keenly. The two ships were converging rapidly and it was only moments, though it seemed like minutes, before the Resolute was in position, the two ships running almost parallel to each other less than fifty metres apart. The indicator lights flashed.

"Open fire!"

The guns spoke with voices of thunder. Carriages squealed as they took the immense recoil and drove back into the ship. Through her feet, Amelia could feel the vibrations of the broadside and knew that the guns on the deck below were firing too. She bowed her head to look out of the gunport as soon as the smoke cleared and saw a ripple of flame bursting from the side of the Malevolence as the renegade battlecruiser returned fire. At that range, it was hard to miss. The discharge of the last of the Resolute's guns was masked by the terrible crashes as the enemy's shells tore into the side. The entire ship shook under the flurry of blows. The bulbs in the indicator panel exploded, showering fragments of glass across the deck. Where the shells hit the hull they produced flying splinters and sparks in a deadly spray capable of cutting a spacer down. Amelia saw it happen and heard the screams and cries even over the explosions of battle. Something bounced off her arm, stinging but luckily not digging in.

"Reload! Stand firm and reload!" she tried to be heard above the din. Buckley was shouting the same thing. Amelia looked out of the gunport again and saw the Malevolence disappearing into the mist again. Dark patches and trailing smoke from her hull showed that the Resolute had given as well as she had received and Amelia strode back down the gundeck with grim satisfaction. Their turn to port brought their rearmost guns almost across the pirate's stern and Amelia reached the gun she had loaded with starshell. The crew were still waiting for her and she crouched down to sight along the barrel. The Malevolence showed her stern clearly for a moment and Amelia gave the word.

"Fire!"

A brilliant comet flashed out and she saw it strike the heavy timbers just above the renegade's rudder assembly, where it stuck, burning brighter than any star. Nodding in satisfaction, she stood up and raised her voice.

"All guns, reload! Mr Buckley, get the wounded to the surgeon at once and clear this deck!"

"Aye, ma'am! Port side crews, odds to stretcher parties, evens to clear!" Buckley shouted.

Amelia made her way to the staircase, taking careful note of the damage the battery had suffered. It was important to keep the gunners busy. That way they might not notice the bodies that lay sprawled in awful, unreal postures across the deck behind them or the cries of their wounded comrades as they were helped away to the surgeon. The shell hoists rattled as fresh ammunition was brought up and the hoarse shouts of the gun captains could be heard as they readied their weapons again. Amelia acknowledged the crew that had fired the starshell with an approving nod – holding their nerve until the last, best moment while the other guns were firing had been no mean feat of discipline – and climbed the stairs to the deck and reported to the bridge. The renegade's fire had been aimed mostly at the Resolute's hull, but a shell had burst against the mainmast and one of the ship's longboats had been blown to smithereens. Small arms fire had scored the deck and railings and she saw a handful of spacers and marines lying prone on the deck.

"Upper starboard battery ready for action, sir," she said to Forsythe when she reached the bridge. "Some casualties and the number eight starboard gun is inoperable."

"Very good, Ms Amelia." Forsythe's face was a mask of concentration. "Mr Chad, any sign of the Entreprenante?"

Chad shook his head. "No, sir. I'm afraid I lost her in the clouds."

Lieutenant Harburn arrived, his face blackened with gunsmoke. "Lower starboard battery reporting, sir. All guns ready."

"Thank you, Mr Harburn." Forsythe nodded. "Damage?"

"There was a power surge, sir. My crews are replacing the circuit-breakers."

"Sir! There is a contact off the starboard bow!" Arrow was pointing. Amelia followed his pointing arm and saw a glowing patch moving through the fog.

"What the devil is that?" Lieutenant Costell raised his telescope.

"That's the enemy, sir," Amelia grinned.

"You're sure of that, lieutenant?" Forsythe looked at her questioningly.

"Absolutely, sir."

"It is too bright to be a fire, sir," said Arrow.

"Starshell, sir," said Amelia. "I had the after gun load with starshell to mark the target. I thought it would be the only way to find them again in this fog."

"Did you now?" Forsythe raised an eyebrow. "Countermanding my ordnance order, if I recall correctly."

"Yes, sir."

"I see." Forsythe looked away, but Amelia caught an approving twinkle in the old man's eye as he turned his face. "Well, then. Let us see if your initiative has paid off. Navigator? Take us after them."

"Aye, sir! Helm twelve degrees to starboard!"

"The starshell hit them astern, sir, by the rudder," said Amelia.

"Noted," Forsythe nodded. "Lookouts! Keep a watch on that light!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Try to bring it into our port fire arc, Mr Costell," Forsythe went on. "It's long range, but they won't be expecting it."

"Aye, captain. Helm! Three points to starboard!"

"We'll fire a long-range spread from the port battery, if you please, gunners," said Forsythe. "Return to your posts and stand ready."

Amelia and Harburn saluted and hurried back to their posts. Amelia took up a position midway along the port battery near a fire control board and peered out of one of the open gunports.

"Gun captains! Full spread! Cover the arc!" she shouted. The guns would be angled to produce a wide cone of fine, which would theoretically guarantee a hit. She watched the glowing patch of fog as it came alongside, waiting impatiently for it to reach the centre of the battery. The fire control lights flashed and she stood up and signalled to Buckley.

"Open fire!"

The guns roared and sent a hail of shells out into the nebula. Amelia tracked them as they hurtled into the mist towards the glow. There was an answering flicker of light which suggested hits and Amelia grinned in satisfaction. A distant rumble was heard as the Malevolence returned fire, but she had no aiming point and the salvo passed harmlessly astern of the Resolute as she continued her turn.

"Reload all guns!" Amelia shouted. She moved across to the other side of the ship, as the maneuver had brought the telltale glow into view off the starboard bow. She watched it for a moment before she began making her way to the bridge again.

Down in the ship's dispensary, Jane had looked up suddenly from her work as the guns opened fire. The glass bottles had rattled in their racks with the vibrations, and had taken up a more energetic dance still as the ship shook under the fierce barrage from the enemy. Jane had dived across the small room to catch one bottle as it threatened to fall to the floor, bruising her shoulder against the hard wooden shelf. She stepped back, rubbing it and settling the precious bottle back carefully. A knock on the door made her look around. Gray was standing in the doorway, her surgical apron tied around her.

I THINK WE CAN EXPECT SOME PATIENTS AFTER THAT, she noted in her book.

Jane nodded. "Yes, I fear so, doctor. Would you like the standard surgical set?"

Gray nodded. AND SOME ADDITIONAL MORPHIA AND ANTISEPTICS.

"I'll bring them right away." Jane turned to the shelves and began selecting from them, arranging the bottles carefully on a tray. Satisfied, she picked it up and hurried into the ship's surgery with it. Gray directed her to put it on a table by the side. Jane nodded and obeyed, turning to leave as a commotion grew.

"Coming through! Wounded coming through here!"

The first of the casualties arrived, spacers being carried by their mates or limping along by themselves. Gray and the other surgical staff moved swiftly to triage the cases and Jane saw the first serious case – a young blue-skinned Pelsinid – being lifted onto the operating table. His eyes were closed but his teeth were bared in a grimace of pain as he clutched at his stomach, fighting the attempts of the orderlies to move his hands away from the wound. Blood dripped onto the floor. A second spacer was lifted onto Gray's table and she examined his mangled right arm for barely a second before she reached for a saw and waved an orderly to assist her. Jane could see what was coming and snatched up a bottle and wetted a rag cloth with the contents as she went to help. The spacer's eyes were wide with pain and fear and he struggled for a moment as the orderly tried to hold him down to put a leather tourniquet around his upper arm.

"Here, here, it's all right...just breathe this..."

She held the cloth to the wounded man's nose and he breathed in gratefully as the anaesthetic took effect. There was a horrible rasping sound as Gray's saw cut through the bone of his arm and Jane watched his face anxiously – partly to avoid watching the operation – but there was no sign of pain reflex and his eyes slowly closed as he slipped into blissful unconsciousness. Gray gave her an economical nod of thanks as she cleaned the bloody stump. Shouts behind them heralded the arrival of another group of wounded spacers and Jane hastily scanned them to see if Amelia was among them, feeling a guilty surge of relief when she realised she was not.

"Get the light wounds out of here!" The ship's surgeon shouted. "Miss Porter, see what you can do for them outside!"

"Yes, doctor!" Jane grabbed up a portable medical kit. Even though the guns seemed to have stopped firing for now, there was no time for sentiment. She thought of Amelia doing her duty up on her gun deck, where she knew some of the casualties must have come from, and determined not to let her down.

The atmosphere on the bridge was tense. Everyone who had a telescope had it to their eye

"It's disappeared! The light has disappeared!"

Amelia looked around and saw that they were right. Off to starboard, there was nothing but shifting clouds. Cursing under her breath, she hurried up to the bridge.

"It could have gone out, sir," said Costell.

"Starshell burns for longer than that," said Chad. "And if it hit them in the stern, then..."

"Then they must be heading straight for us, sir," Amelia finished. "Sorry, sir. Upper gun deck reporting. Full salvo fired, but I can't be certain of hits."

"Understood," said Forsythe. "Have you sight of the Entreprenante, Mr Chad?"

"No, sir! No sign of her."

"No sign of the enemy, either, sir," said Costell. "We lost contact with them at bearing zero-two-zero."

"Keep an eye fixed on that moving point!" Forsythe stalked across the bridge. "Report any contact! Bring us about to zero-one-one and maintain speed. Captain Arrow?"

"Sir?" The big Cragorian drew himself to attention.

"We shall meet them close aboard on the starboard side. Get your marines in position, quarterdeck and fore. Post extra sharpshooters aloft and have them target the enemy's carronade crews."

"Aye, sir!" Arrow saluted and left the bridge, calling orders to his red-coated soldier, who began forming up along the starboard rail, readying their rifles, while a handful of men began climbing the rigging towards the fighting tops.

"Close aboard, sir?" asked Amelia.

"I won't risk being rammed," snapped Forsythe. "The momentum of a ship their size could break our back! Stand to your guns, Ms Amelia. Load with high explosive when we get in close."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Contact!" A lookout's voice rang out from above. "Contact off the starboard bow!"

Amelia paused on the bridge stairs and looked out. A shadow was emerging from the mists. Swallowing hard, she hurried back below to the guns. Buckley was calling out orders to the crew.

"Steady! Hold your fire, there!"

"Mr Buckley, report!" Amelia pushed her way through the throng of spacers. "Identify that contact!"

Buckley was leaning out of the foremost gunport with his telescope. "Still in the mists, ma'am!"

"Shall we prepare a full salvo, ma'am?" asked a gun captain.

Amelia shook her head. "Stand to your guns, Mr Roebuck, but hold your fire until we have a target. Mr Buckley!"

"She's coming out of the mists now!" Buckley shouted. "It's...it's...the Entreprenante, ma'am! It's the Company frigate!"

Amelia exhaled and felt a relaxation of the tension on the gun deck. She knelt by the muzzle of a gun to look out of the port and saw the big frigate emerging from the fog. She still bore scorch marks and shattered timbers on her hull from her first brush with the Malevolence, but seemed to be trailing less smoke than before as she raced past under full sail, a signal light flashing frantically from her forecastle. Amelia watched her go past and vanish astern, but then another should brought her attention back to the bows.

"New contact!" Buckley was yelling. "New contact!"

"Gunners! Ready!" Amelia scrambled back to her feet, knowing that there was only one other ship out there with them in the mists. "Fire as you bear!"

The Malevolence emerged from the mists like a shark in pursuit of prey, her wedge-shaped, armoured ram bow resembling an axe hurling towards its target. As the first of the cannon opened fire, Amelia tried to judge the angle of the enemy's approach and realised with horror that the Resolute wasn't turning fast enough to avoid it.

"Brace for impact!" she shouted, reaching for a handhold on the mainmast trunk, hoping against hope that her voice could be heard against the thunder of the battery as the guns fired one after another. Through the gunport, in nightmarish clarity, Amelia saw the metal-shod bow of the Corsair slicing past. She could pick out every rivet and rust stain.

"Brace!"

The Malevolence struck the Resolute astern of the gun galleries, the sharp blade of the bow crunching through the timbers of the stern quarter, breaking through hull and cabin, crushing and smashing. The ship lurch violently underfoot as the energy of the ramming slewed the Resolute around to starboard. The lights flickered as the engines surged explosively and spacers stumbled and cursed. Amelia was flung hard against the mainmast and struck her head against one of the metal bracing hoops. Stars burst behind her eyes and she staggered upright holding her head. The remaining cannon fired raggedly, punching their shells into the enemy that was now only a few yards away. Even before the crash of the collision had died away, the Malevolence began firing back. At point blank range, no gun could miss and the shells tore mercilessly into the Resolute's flank. Amelia saw Buckley, hurrying aft towards her to make some report, caught in a burst of splinters and knocked to the deck. Shouts and screams were blocked out by the tumult of the barrage. Amelia pushed herself upright and raised her voice as the guns died away.

"Reload! Case shot and charge! Port crews, take up arms!"

Seconds seemed to stretch out like minutes. Amelia moved up the deck, calling out orders. With the enemy so close, a boarding action could be only minutes away at most and she didn't want her gunners to be caught unarmed. Glancing sideways, she found herself looking straight down the barrel of an enemy cannon, by sheer coincidence stuck pointing directly at one of her open gunports. She fancied that she could see directly down the smoking barrel, could see the pirates hunched over their weapon and the shell that would claim her life. But then the Resolute's gun fired through the port and the pirates vanished in a blaze of smoke and flame and red mist. Amelia stayed staring for a moment longer before she shook herself back to reality.

"Maintain fire! Clear the wounded!"

There was a deafening explosion behind her. Part of the hull gave way in a cloud of splinters, sending spacers flying in all directions. Craning her neck, Amelia saw planks being pushed through the breach and felt her blood run cold. She grabbed the nearest spacer by the collar and pulled him close to make sure he heard clearly.

"Fetch marines!" she shouted. "Fetch marines!"

"Right, ma'am!" The boy nodded frantically and ran for the stairs. Amelia drew her sword and pistol and raised her voice once again as she took up position behind the mast.

"Port crews! Stand to repel borders! Stand to repel!"

The high-pitched crackle of grenades reached her ears and spacers who were scrambling away from the breach cried out and fell. Laslock fire flickered and she saw the first of the pirates scramble through the broken timbers. A lone figure appeared in its way – Buckley, somehow still alive but clearly dazed. Amelia saw him struggling for his sword as he saw the enemy coming, but it was too late and the pirate cut him down. Amelia raised her pistol and opened fire. More pirates were forcing their way across the makeshift bridge, firing as they came. Amelia's armed spacers were firing back, but there were few places to hide on the gun deck, and still the shells hammered back and forth around them.

The sickbay had been thrown into confusion by the collision. A thousand things had come cascading off shelves and some patients had been thrown from their beds and tables. It had taken much time to restore any semblance of order and the work still wasn't done by the time that Jane looked up at the door. The thunder of guns was continuous now, and the whole ship shook with the violence, but to her surprise there were few fresh casualties coming in. Jane took the opportunity to wash her bloodied hands and looked around at Gray.

"Why have they stopped coming?"

TOO BUSY, Gray wrote. WE NEED TO GO TO THEM NOW.

Jane nodded, understanding. It made sense that in a battle this intense, the crew would be too preoccupied to devote time and hands to carrying their wounded away.

"I've got my medical kit in the dispensary," she said.

Gray nodded. GOOD. GO TO THE GUN DECK.

"What about you, ma'am?"

MAIN DECK. Gray put away her notebook and waved Jane out of her way. Jane stepped back and hurried to the dispensary. Glass crunched under her feet when she stepped inside and she saw that several shelves had broken or cracked, spilling their contents across the floor. She donned her pith helmet and snatched up the leather satchel from under the desk.

"All right, Jane," she whispered to herself. "Here we go. For Amelia. Remember that. For Amelia."