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Syndicate heavy cruisers, the one targeted by
Gryphon
and
Basilisk
, must have seen the danger at the last moment, making a sudden evasive maneuver that threw off many of the shots by the Midway cruisers. But the other Syndicate heavy cruiser caught the full force of
Pele
’s armament.
    A barrage of hell lances and grapeshot slammed into the heavy cruiser, knocking down its shields and going on to smash into the hull. The heavy cruiser jerked sideways under the impacts, then broke into several pieces that tumbled away.
    The other heavy cruiser kept going, though, as
Pele
,
Gryphon
, and
Basilisk
went onward out of range, unable to check their velocity or turn fast enough to quickly engage the Syndicate warship again.
    But the Syndicate heavy cruiser must have been spooked by the unexpected attack and by the loss of its partner. As
Harrier
threw out a last volley from her remaining weaponry, the heavy cruiser twisted down and away instead of closing to hell-lance range. Instead, it pumped out two missiles, then a third, all aimed at the crippled
Harrier
.
    Harrier
’s two remaining hell lances hurled out shots aimed at the oncoming missiles, but the defensive fire faltered as the hell lances overheated.
    The first two missiles struck aft, detonating simultaneously and blowing apart the after half of
Harrier
. The third missile hit forward, and shattered on impact, cratering the surviving half of the light cruiser but leaving it still shakily intact.
    “A dud!” Diaz breathed. “I’ve never been so happy to see a warhead fail.”
    “That wasn’t a dud,” Marphissa objected. “The warhead on a dud would still have detonated on impact. That was a practice missile. Some poor fool accidentally loaded a practice missile instead of a warshot.”
    Bradamont looked around at the faces of the others on
Manticore
’s bridge. “What is it you all expect to happen to that person?”
    “Summary execution, if they’re lucky,” Diaz said, his voice harsh, “which would have been already carried out, or if they’re not lucky, prolonged interrogation by the snakes on that unit to determine if that person deliberately sabotaged the attack. Once they get the confession, and snakes always get a confession regardless of whether or not their victim did anything, the person’s family will be punished as well.”
    “Hell of a price for a mistake,” Bradamont muttered.
    “High-profile mistakes are often lethal in the Syndicate,” Marphissa said. She pointed to her display. “Thanks to that failed missile hit, the forward portion of
Harrier
is still intact. Some of her crew may still be alive.”
    “They’ll fort up in any remaining escape pods until the fight is over,” Diaz speculated. “Not launching, because that would make them targets again, but using the life support in the pods.”
    “It’s not like we can go back for them now, so I hope you’re right,” Marphissa said with a scowl. She started to say something else, then paused. There was an odd stutter in
Manticore
as the heavy cruiser roared at full acceleration. “Something’s off,” she said. “Feel that?”
    “Now that you mention it, yes, I feel it, too,” Diaz said, studying his readouts. “Engineering watch specialist, do you know the cause?”
    The specialist, an older woman who looked near retirement age, was squinting at her own display. “Kapitan, it appears that number two main propulsion unit was damaged. Its output is fluctuating.”
    “Is there danger?”
    “No, Kapitan. Stress and temperature readings are within safe parameters. But that unit is not putting out full thrust. Its output is varying from fifty to eighty percent of maximum.”
    “Let’s hope that’s enough,” Marphissa said, her eyes locked on her display. The Syndicate flotilla was flattening out from its turn, charging toward the fleeing
Manticore
as the surviving Syndicate heavy cruiser scrambled to rejoin its companions before
Pele
could return. The rate of closure of