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Roth’s guns went off for a last time, and Jack watched the bolts reach across the gulf to the now visibly retreating enemy. Both bolts reached this time, but there was no cascade of lightning as the shields collapsed, no flare as one of the engines was struck square-on, no million-to-one shot that destroyed the Frenchman, scattering her into dozens or thousands of pieces. Just the dancing splash of the plasma against the shields, and the continued dimming of the engines as the enemy retreated ever further away. He stared after the ship, not sure if he was disappointed or relieved, not sure if he should be disappointed or relieved.
A throat cleared, and turning, Jack saw the master. “Mister Henreid?”
The master cleared his throat again. “Shall we stand down from quarters, then, sir?” Behind Mister Henreid, Jack saw the officers and crew in smiles and relief.
Jack smiled back. Yes, he could afford that. He had bluffed the enemy and won. And he had a sense that, having won this bluff, his men were more solidly behind him than they had been before: he had shown his mettle, it appeared. He turned to the radar operator. “How far off is she?”
“Approaching forty clicks sir, and still accelerating.”
“Keep tabs on her, and save all our data on her to a file for the Admiralty. Label it with today’s date and send me a copy. And yes, let us stand down from quarters. Mister Greenstreet, I believe it is your watch?”
“Yes, sir,”
“Very good. I shall be in my quarters. I am to be notified of any changes. Have the carpenter sound the well, of course, though I doubt he’ll find anything, and check with sick bay regarding any injuries.”
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