"Then why is it going back in?" a short woman standing beside Forsythe asked. "I mean, if all the fighters are already gone?"

Forsythe frowned. She was right: the liner had shifted course and was accelerating on a vector that would take it close to the Number Two catapult ship. "Zar?" Forsythe murmured.

"The Pax must still be in command there," Pirbazari said. "On his own, a liner captain would certainly get his ship out of a combat zone as quickly as possible."

"Obviously," Forsythe said. "But what exactly is he doing?"

Pirbazari exhaled slowly. "That I don't know," he admitted. "EmDef counted a hundred fighters, and that's all the lifeboat bays a ship that size has. And the fighters are too big to have doubled up."

Forsythe rubbed his chin. "What about other weapons? Could they have loaded heavy lasers or other missiles aboard?"

"Where would they mount them?" Pirbazari countered. "There aren't any weapons bays or pods on a liner. It's got a couple of meteor-defense lasers, but those aren't big enough for anyone to worry about."

"EmDef seems worried about them," someone else said, pointing. "Look—there they go."

The EmDef destroyers guarding Number Two were indeed on the move. Leaving one of their number behind as close-support to the catapult ship, the rest were now accelerating to intercept the incoming liner. "A feint?" Forsythe suggested.

"I'd say there's a feint going on somewhere," Pirbazari agreed tightly. "They only need to hit two of the four ships to disable the catapult. Yet between the fighters and the liner, they're now threatening three of them."

And given the odds the Pax ships were facing, it didn't make sense for their commander to split up his forces more than he absolutely had to. "Maybe they're just going for insurance."

"Or as you said, one of them is a feint," Pirbazari said. "Designed either to draw off or pin down some of the defenders." He nodded at the screen. "The question is, which one?"

The battles for Numbers One and Three were burning fiercely now, the opposing ships lighting up with the faint flashes of laser and plasma weapons, or the brighter bursts of missile explosions. The EmDef destroyers were by far the larger craft, and with hulls modeled on those of angel hunterships they certainly had the thicker skins. In a straight slugging match, even top-of-the-line Pax fighters probably wouldn't stand a chance.

But the enemy commander was too smart to play it that way. His fighters were far more maneuverable than the destroyers, and he was using that edge to his full advantage. Dodging in and out of the EmDef defense formation, the Pax ships worked against the destroyers, worked the destroyers against each other, and systematically pumped small missiles through the screen at the two catapult ships.

Most of the shots missed, or were blocked by the destroyers, or were eliminated by defensive fire en route. But a few of them were getting through. Too many of them.

And as Forsythe listened to EmDef Command's running commentary, he realized that the situation out there was rapidly becoming serious.

Still, the Pax fighters were taking casualties, too. One by one, occasionally in pairs as a lead pilot and his wingman were caught in the same blast, they flashed and shattered and winked out.

But not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough. Through a red haze of anger and frustration and fear, Forsythe watched as the two catapult ships continued to take hit after hit.

And then, suddenly, the operational end of Number One flared with a blue-white fire. "What was that?" someone yelped.

"They got it," Pirbazari confirmed. "Not the whole ship, but the part that counts."

Someone else swore. "Then why don't they leave it?" he demanded. "Look at them. Isn't it enough that they knocked out the catapult? Now they want to kill everyone aboard, too?"

Forsythe ground his teeth together helplessly. The man was right: instead of veering off, the Pax fighters were still swarming around the crippled catapult ship. "Going for vengeance," he muttered.

"I don't think so," Pirbazari said doubtfully. "Vengeance in the middle of battle is a very unprofessional thing to do. And if there's one thing those people are, it's professional. My guess is they're still trying to keep that group of destroyers pinned down."

"So that their comrades will be free to take out Number Three," Forsythe growled.

EmDef had apparently come to the same conclusion. Abruptly, the destroyers guarding the fourth, unthreatened, catapult ship pulled away, heading for the beleaguered Number Three.

"Finally getting some backup over there," someone near the front said. "About time."

Forsythe felt his eyes narrow. The backup would certainly be welcome... but at the same time, drawing those destroyers into the fray at Number Three meant leaving Number Four completely helpless. "Zar, what in blazes are they doing?"

"They're gambling," Pirbazari said grimly. "With Number One down, they can't afford to lose any of the others—if they do, they can't catapult any Pax ships that come into the net. They don't see the Harmonic as being any real threat to Number Two, and Number Four is far enough away from the battles for them to have plenty of warning if any of the fighters suddenly turn and head that direction. So they concentrate their defense on Number Three."

"Sounds damn risky."

"It is damn risky," Pirbazari agreed. "The theory is sound enough; the destroyers can get back to Number Four pretty quickly, and the catapult ship itself isn't exactly defenseless."

He gestured toward the screen. "But there's that assumption that the Harmonic isn't a threat to Number Two. I'm not sure I buy that."

Forsythe looked over at that section of the display. The destroyers from Number Two had reached and surrounded the big passenger ship. Concentrating on that part of the running voice track, he could hear the EmDef squadron commander ordering the Harmonic to open its airlocks and accept boarders.

"They've been calling on the liner to surrender for the past couple of minutes," Pirbazari said. "So far, the captain has been stalling them."

Forsythe shot a glance back at Number Three. The destroyers that had deserted Number Four to come to its aid were nearly within close-point attack range, and in fact the front ships of the formation were already beginning to spark laser flashes toward the invaders.

But the Pax fighters seemed unaware of them. Still dodging in and out of the defending ships, they continued to hammer at the catapult ship.

He looked back at the liner, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. The Pax fighters ignoring the incoming destroyers; the liner, still under enemy control, making no move; the Number Four catapult ship completely open to attack and the Number Two nearly as helpless.

Yet nothing was happening. Why wasn't anything happening?

And then, suddenly, he understood. "Call EmDef," he ordered, gripping Pirbazari's arm. "Tell them to shut down that net."

Pirbazari blinked. "High Senator, they can't do that. It's the only one still operating, remember?"

"I know that," Forsythe said. Any second now. It had to be any second now. "Call and give the order."

"If we shut it down, the whole system will be open," Pirbazari objected. "The rest of the Pax force will be able to come in anywhere."

"They don't want to come in anywhere," Forsythe snapped. "Don't you see? They want their reinforcements to come in right here. Here, where they can keep their advance force from being slaughtered."

"But then—?"

"What are they waiting for?" Forsythe jabbed a finger at the screen. "They're waiting for their clock to run down. They know that the second they knock out the catapult, EmDef will shut down the net.

They'll have maybe a half-minute window; and that's what they're going for."