The Waltzer’s gun thundered. Thick grey smoke wrapped around the turret then washed back over the bridge. Everyone had jobs to be doing, but they forsook them to stare at the shot’s target and will the shell to land true. A fountain of water shot up just before the second transport. “You have one more shot and then we shall take evasive action.” Null shouted into the communications pipe.
The gun roared again. This time Null was spinning the control wheel before the recoil had even subsided. The stricken attack ship came into his view as Waltzer heeled over. They would pass close to it, but not collide. The seamen in the water around their old ship would not be so lucky, pushed under by the wash or churned over by the screws. The sailors’ code did not apply in the middle of a battle.
“Hit sir!” a spotter cried. Null allowed himself a glance at the transports. There was black smoke over the nearest one and a large jagged scar in its plating. If they could inflict a few similar hits to the other transports they might be able to halt the invasion fleet. “Planes!” shouted another spotter, “They are not ours.”