Page 73 of Lhora
“Where’s theUlstis?”
“Moving into position.”
She opened her telescope. It was going to be close.
“Esstiss?”
She looked down at where her pilot was bringing them into position. “Steady as she goes. Keep it nice and slow. Don’t give the Tra’Mell any reason to think we’re targeting them. Geord, load and prepare cannons on our starboard side.”
“Loading and preparing.”
“We have one chance at this. Twoff, open communications with theBeccanbut don’t hail them. Keep our end mute.”
The communications officer was puzzled. “Don’t hail them?”
She nodded. “Just wait. You’ll see.”
The frequency sounded garbled and indistinct. It gradually cleared as co-connections were filtered out, leaving just the voices coming from the bridge. Lhora heard Duren’s order for the main solar sails to be lowered to half-mast. She mentally nodded. As long he kept the keel facing the Tra’Mell, they’d think he was aiming at the Beinights.
“All at-ready, Sarpen,” a voice was heard.
“Steady. Steadyyy.” It was Duren. Lhora reached out with her senses, locking onto the sound, the voice, and the tone. He was confident. Maybe too confident? She sent up a quick prayer. It was a good plan. But like so many strategies, the timing had to be perfect.
Unfortunately, there was also one major kink, rising like an ugly sore that refused to heal. The Sarpi’s other ships didn’t know what was about to take place. They were still running on the Sarpi’s original orders.
“To all ships, this is Sarpen Duren. If you’re ready, raise your flags.”
Lhora turned to give the order when the navigator smiled. “Flag raised,” he noted.
She lifted the telescope to her eye again to see the Beinight ships becoming visible and making their presence known as they dropped their shields. They were splayed out in an arc, all twenty of them, with theVolositting solitary at the head where her father commanded the Esstika’s massive battlecruiser. As they appeared, each one lifted their blue flags bearing a single white arching comet as theBeccanunfurled its bright yellow flag with black stripes. The Tra’Mell wouldn’t think anything of the symbolism. Ships often raised their colors as a way to announce themselves, and as a sign of imminent aggression.
“Sarpen, we have movement from the enemy.”
The enemy. The Tra’Mell weren’t mentioned by name on the off chance they were able to hone in on the transmission.
Lhora gestured to the navigator. “Keep theBeccanin our sights.”
“Yes, Esstiss.”
“Esstiss,” Twoff whispered although it wasn’t necessary. She glanced down at him. “There’s some chatter between the Coltrosstian ships.”
“Can you decipher any of it?”
“Some. They’re wondering why the Sarpi isn’t answering them.”
She checked her field of vision, but she couldn’t see the ship. “Is the Sarpi’s ship still airborne?”
“Yes, Esstiss.”
“Any movement from them?”
“No, Esstiss.”
“Sarpen!” The single word coming over the intercom held a bright edge of concern. “Sarpen, the Coltrosstian ships are making their move.”
Alarm washed through her. “Duren, give us the signal,” she muttered. “Give us the signal before it’s too late!”
“All ships!Now! Fire at will!” The order was loud, strong, and clear.
