"I'll show my colors," Standish muttered, a grim smile playing about his lips. He switched on the ship address system.
"Port gunner. Stand by for shot across enemy's bows. Elevation six. Trajectory five."
There was an excited reply. Standish twisted his helm a fraction of a turn.
"Fire!"
The Phantom recoiled slightly, but there was no sound, no tell-tale streak of flame. Only on the Sirian flagship was there any evidence of what had happened. A gaping hole appeared in the vessel's hull. The ship faltered momentarily. Then, Standish knew, hermetic bulkheads automatically closed, and she swung on a wide arc.
"They're spreading out," Ga-Marr said. "They're going to attack from both sides."
The flagship shot into another plane. The remaining five cruisers surged toward the Phantom, firing as they came. Standish saw the strategy and realized he was pitted against no amateur fighter.
He signaled to fire both forward guns, holding his position boldly. At that moment, one of the cruisers attempted a maneuver old in space warfare. Charging head-on toward the Phantom, the cruiser's commander sought to frighten Standish into turning broadside.
Thalia uttered a scream. "They're going to ram us!" she cried.