A violent blow wrenched the "Moonstone" sideways, and another hurled her forward with a tremendous burst of acceleration. And the drives stopped dead. Under momentum alone the cruiser shot onward.

"The hell!" Nelcia exclaimed. "What happened to the drive?"

"Lost our power. The drive's out."

Nelcia looked into the plotting tank. The enemy cruiser was closing—gaining on her steadily. His screen was battered, but his drives appeared to be in good order. Nelcia cursed loudly.

A soft chiming of the intercom interrupted her oaths.

"Skipper?" The chief engineer's image appeared.

"What?" Nelcia demanded.

"I saw that last bump you took—it knocked our power module out."

"How long before you can do an emergency start-up?"

The engineer looked dubious. "I haven't even started repairs yet. About an hour, maybe more—"

Nelcia swore again. "We can't last that long. That bastard will have us chewed into pieces long before—"

The chief's image nodded.

"Don't I know it. I'll do an emergency start without doing the repairs. I don't know how long it will last."

"Get going!" Nelcia ordered. "And don't be scared of tearing things up. You just get that drive back!"

Ishikawa, his face still covered with blood, and a bandage taped over his head, sat silently at the main console. Without turning or looking up he answered her.

"Our only hope is to hold him off for an hour."

"Thank you." Nelcia's tone was sharp. "Your assessment is quite correct. I would like to know you how you expect to perform that feat!"

Ishikawa shrugged, his eyes on the plotting tank in front of him.

"Do the best we can. He's battered. We've still got one turret and one tube working."

The first Cyanthran salvo was ragged and inaccurate; it fell short by three thousand yards and wide by a thousand.

"What's the matter with him?" Nelcia muttered incredulously.

"He's firing at extreme range," Ishikawa pointed out. "Maybe he can't close—he's not maneuvering too well—I think he's battered bad—"