Part 2

"Kali have died in this water just now," Tahn was barely able to manage his voice. "They are down there right now. We will not run and disgrace them! We will stand here. We will put a wall of sails and guns around this spot, and if we die it will be in honor. We will run no more. _We will run no more!_"

He was trembling when he finished, and Ward expected a knife to make one final arc. It was impossible to try to explain. It was broken....

That thought crashed through as a knife never could.

It's over. The Grimnal will surround this pitiful fleet like a storm. It's over; we've lost the fight, the war and the planet. And I've done it. It's my baby.

The thing seared him, roared through him, shook him--and touched a secret place. A deep place where he stored his anger. All his past angers, big and little; covered stifled, caught and hidden. Old hurts, old dreams, old reproaches screamed and gibbered through him like a thousand ghosts and devils. They swamped the gentle man. They dragged him down and gagged him. And something else took his place--something that had never been allowed to stand before.

"You stupid bastards!" he roared, wheeling to face them all. "You God-forsaken fools! A Grimnal baby is a greater fighter than your bravest man. Look what he has done to you. Look! Like blind animals you have been led into a trap. You have been put in a cage of your own ignorance. You call me _polasti_! I am the only one who can show you how to win. The only thing you know is to bunch together and be killed like animals at slaughter. You stand together in one tight group to make it easy for him. You know how it will be? Look!"

He sprang to the glass globe that held the magnetized needle, seized it and hurled it to the deck. It exploded like a small bomb. The Kali moved back.

"That is what the Grimnal will do to you. Your bravery will be as that glass, nice to see--but look at it now!"

Water from the globe trickled slowly through the shattered glass. The chips winked red in the dying sun. Only the cry of the wind sounded through the ship. Ward forced his choking breath to an even rhythm.

"Now go die like the fools you are."

He left the quiet bridge and threaded his way to his cabin. Night was coming softly to the Grimnal Sea.

* * * * *

It was dark in the cabin when the knock sounded. There was no answer, and it came again.

"Come," Ward said in a very tired, hollow voice.

The door swung open and someone entered. After a long moment, Tahn's voice came softly in the dark.

"No one has ever spoken to the Kali like that."

Ward did not answer.

"It is a brave man that can do that. And bravery is something we understand." There was a silent moment. Tahn coughed. "May I light the lamp?"

Ward swung around in the chair.

"Certainly."

Flint flicked on steel, a spark glowed, caught, and light wavered in the cabin. The two faced each other, Ward sagged low in the chair, the Kali by the lamp. Tahn coughed again.

"There is a way?"

Ward let a moment pass.

"There is a way to try."

"Fighting?"

"Yes, fighting."

Tahn paused the barest second.

"Tell me."

IV

The frigate, _Windsong_, skimmed downward like a low, lean cloud. Behind her, vague in the dim moonlight, followed four more frigates and the skating corvettes. Before her, like a gate to hell, gaped the jagged mouth of Pelo Break. Ward leaned against the bridge rail beside Resi, the scarred and battered captain of _Windsong_.

"Keep close to the eastern side," Ward said. "In the shadow of the cliffs, out of the moonlight."

Resi spoke softly to the helmsman, and the _Windsong_ eased into the shadow. Ward turned and watched the following ships as, one by one, they slipped out of the moon and all but vanished. He swung back and squinted ahead. As far as he could see, high, broken cliffs reared straight from the water on both sides, angling together in the distance. There Tahn had said, they stood a scant two hundred yards apart, and the Break turned nearly sixty degrees to the west. That was the narrows. Ward turned to Resi, wondering if the old Kali fully understood the plan.

"If we do not meet them before, we wait for them at the narrows."

There was no acknowledgement that he could tell. Not even a cough. He doesn't like this, Ward thought. He relishes the fight coming, but not me. Despite Tahn's heated pep talk, I am a bad totem. But Tahn had accomplished one thing--an honor promise from each ship's captain to follow orders. Ward knew they would, as long as everything went along with fighting, but the moment something went wrong.

He remembered Tahn's bark of surprise as the plan unfolded. Then the argument, and his own firm stand that he command this force. For this was the crucial contact. The Key. If this failed--it all failed.

He was sure that Tahn and the rest of the feverishly anxious Kali would more than whip their end. They were outnumbered, but had an overwhelming firepower edge. For the hundredth time he reviewed the thing, looking for the fatal flaw.

One frigate for the crippled ships, which gave them quite a bit of firepower right there. Two firsts, four seconds, five frigates (the _Storm Bird_ had gone down) and four corvettes. They were to make fast repairs, jury rig, then stand by in the shadow at the mouth of Pelo Break. If the Kali came back out--fine; they would all rejoin Tahn. If not--and the Grimnal came--they were a last stand.

Tahn had the main force of sixteen firsts, seven seconds and thirteen frigates. He was to intercept the Grimnal coming from behind. He would run their fleet through, come about, rake them again and run out to sea. He was to hit them hard enough to stop them, then make them believe he was running away. After any pursuit was discouraged he was to come downwind and fly for Anda Passage.

If the timing was right, he would run right over the force from the bay, and with a little effort clear them off the water.

"Then," Ward had added with a half smile, "you can shell the land guns in the Passage in your spare time. If the first Grimnal force comes limping in you shouldn't have any trouble."

* * * * *

No, Tahn wouldn't have any trouble. In the Kali's present mood they could probably do it with half their ships.

But hell would be open in the Break tonight. Five slim frigates and forty-two tiny corvettes against sixteen firsts, eighteen seconds and ten frigates. Ship for ship; but what unbalanced firepower! Their advantage would be surprise, if nothing slipped, and maneuverability where the Grimnal ships would have their hands full just keeping clear of the cliffs. And this was the fulcrum.

A sudden flare from the maindeck.

"Cover that!" Resi snapped. Then to Ward, "They are cooking the liquor."

Ward nodded. Apparently Resi had a good idea of what was expected. That was one good thing. The liquor, as they called it, was their explosive. A revolting, highly inflammable slime brewed of seaweed and fats. It was prepared in port, but had to be brought to a firing temperature on board. This was done by heating in large kettles and kept just below boiling. When a gun was to be fired, a certain measure of this soup was poured down the muzzle to a sizzling hot firing chamber, kept hot by a covered charcoal packing and quickly sealed by a lava-stone ball. It was the gunner's sense of timing then to know when the gun was ready, and slam the firing stud with a hammer. This slapped flint to steel inside the chamber--and wham.

But it was touchy. If the gunner swung too soon, nothing. If he waited too long, it fired itself. If the chamber was too cool, it would not fire at all; if too hot, it might go the second the ball was rammed. A very delicate operation. And in the midst of battle--with charcoal flying, hot shot coming in, glowing fires under the kettles and spilled hot liquor everywhere--it was hard to see what kept a ship from blowing the whole battle apart. But that never happened. The liquor was easily diluted with water, and they went into battle with special water crews sloshing down the decks. And the stuff was fast. In the Gola Island fight, with fairly hot guns, they were loading, aiming and firing in about ten seconds.

The _Windsong_ eased along, the narrows loomed closer and Ward began to tighten. Any second he expected the double bows of a Grimnal first-liner to slide into sight, followed by another, and another, and another....

He felt the urge to move about, to do anything as long as he was moving. He noticed the Kali were the same. They were as restless as the troubled waters of the Break--lunging, hissing, swirling, rocking up and down. They were constantly at the rail relieving themselves, or rattling the dipper at the water barrel. And he could see the glint of their eyes as they threw quick glances in his direction. He caught Resi watching too, and moved away.

* * * * *

They didn't trust him. They were waiting for him to call it off. They expected him to; probably wanting him to.

He suddenly found he was quivering like a captured bird. He gripped the rail hard with both hands to stop. But it wouldn't stop. It galloped through him, ran him down and trampled him. And in panic he saw what it was.

Fear.

Not simply the fear of failing. It was....

God! The reality of it! This wasn't like reading a book or writing a story. This was going to be real shot and flame instead of words and paper. Real people were going to die, with their blood warm and sticky and horror in the eyes--and he wouldn't be able to glance away to ponder it. It was going to roll from start to finish with the reality of Now and the surety of Death. It was going to flame as fights have flamed since something first snatched up a rock. And he was going to be right in the middle of it with these Kali, win or lose, live or die. And what was he doing here with these strange, alien Kali?

He raised his head and glanced around. Resi was standing by the helmsman, talking with his deck lieutenant. Water splashed down on the maindeck; the water crews at work. There was a breathless quiet over the ship. He could see them standing like shadows, watching the curve of the narrows.

The Spartans must have stood like that at the Pass of Thermopylae!

And the Athenians on the Plains of Marathon.

And the Americans at Bastogne.

And men anywhere, any time before a battle.

A single, whispering line from an old poem sang through him:

_Into the Valley of Death rode the six hundred._

There was no alien here but himself.

* * * * *

The ominous walls of the narrows closed and filled the sky. Beyond the curve, some two miles up, the Grimnal ships were slowly beating upwind. Suddenly, like a touch of fire to old ashes, he knew what he was doing here. A long imprisoned breath escaped from him, and a great sigh seemed to come from the whole ship.

Resi turned. Ward could barely make out what must be a smile in that old Kali face.

"We made it, ho?"

"Just barely, by God. Have the ships string out as planned, with the lead frigate in the tip of the shadow where the Break turns into the moonlight. And be careful of noise. It will carry in here like a cannon shot."

Resi coughed and was gone like a cat.

The _Windsong_ fell dead in the water. The others whispered past like ghosts. Voices called softly, and the small, shielded signal lights licked from ship to ship. And the _Windsong_ was alone. Her bows swung out slightly to allow the foreguns a field of fire. Ward climbed down from the bridge, strode the water-slick maindeck and gained the foredeck. The gun crews turned, glanced at him, then turned back. He could not tell if they were smiling or not. So what. They would have plenty to smile at in a moment.

The lead first-liner was about a mile now and keeping well to their side. Ward squinted at the point of the shadow, but there was no light flickering there that he could see. Damn!

The Grimnal ship looked huge in the moonlight, and the Break behind it seemed filled with sails. It was nearly abreast of the shadow tip, still holding to their side, and the tiniest flicker of light danced in the shadow beside it. Ward grinned. David and Goliath.

The giant first-liner started its slow tum on the very edge of the shadow, drifting into the dark until only its sails held the moon. The sails came around, fluttered and filled. The silent hulls came into sight.

Ward let out a breath, echoed by Resi. The lead liner was well on its new tack. The next was starting to edge into the shadows, and behind that was another, and another, and another. Resi muffled a cough.

"You tell when?" he whispered.

Ward nodded. "I'll tell when."

The Grimnal rode closer, the crash of its bow waves sounding louder. Ship after ship was coasting past the hidden frigate. Ward's excitement grew to a pounding thing. They would be able to get them all in range.

The sails towered over them. A hundred yards. Almost abreast; just at the narrowest point. Ward took a deep breath, and said quietly:

"Now."

* * * * *

Resi turned and hissed. Steaming liquor trickled down hungry cannon mouths. Lava balls were softly rammed home. Muzzles came down. Aimed. The gunners tensed, raised their hammers--and swung.

The night came apart.

A crashing roar racketed through the Break. The walls blasted back the echo. The _Windsong_ rocked and trembled. Smoke boiled into the moonlight and dimmed the Grimnal ship. And that was only a small sound. Over a mile of fire smashed from the shadow and for a quivering second, it seemed the world had exploded. Then came the thunder, and Ward flinched.

Waterspouts climbed in the moonlight. Wreckage spun from the Grimnal ships. Holes splintered in their sides. The _Windsong_ roared again; the bobbing corvettes answered. And a deafening, mind dulling thunder covered the break.

And the Grimnal did not answer.

The lightning flared steady now from the Kali line. Resi climbed halfway up the ratlines for a better look. And still the wounded giants had not answered. Grimnal were running in all directions on their decks. Resi let out a howl of sheer triumph.

"They do not have their liquor cooked!" he cried, swinging to the deck. "We have them with cold guns!"

The Kali cheered, and the firing seemed to cease. Ward was shaking again, but for a different reason.

"Hey, Resi," he bellowed. "Let's get in there closer."

Sails snapped and the _Windsong_ came alive. She seemed to leap into the moonlight. Then a corvette appeared beside her, and another, then two racing side by side into the smoke. And all the Kali were moving. The _Windsong's_ men were laughing like children, and the water crews had everything soaked halfway up the mainsails. What people! Ward laughed, ducking another bucketful. Resi slid to a halt beside him.

"We fool them, ho? We fool them!"

"Closer," Ward yelled. "Under their guns!"

"But they are not firing."

"Under their guns anyway," Ward laughed, and added to himself--away boarders! A few scattered shots were coming from the Grimnal, ripping overhead. Ward stood a little taller. The _Windsong_ came about, her starboard bow nearly slashing the looming first-liner. Ward felt Resi's hand on his arm.

"It was really _you_ that fool them."

Ward grinned foolishly.

"But _we_ whip them, ho?"

Ward wanted to answer, but it was the starboard guns' turn to speak.