Ward turned. There seemed to be a smile flickering on Tahn's swarthy face. "He says there is a great Grimnal force coming into the Break from the north. Sixteen firsts, eighteen seconds and ten frigates. There are no corvettes." Ward's whole body seemed to tighten. Thanks to a damned wind the trap was sprung. "Can they come through the Break?" he asked, more to stall for time than gain information. Tahn coughed three times. "It is a brave thing to do. Even for Kali it would be brave. It is bad water in the Break. The wind goes up; the current comes down. It is slow, but it can be done." "How slow?" * * * * * Tahn tilted his head, stared at where the slice of the Break was barely visible on the horizon, and shrugged, almost. "Maybe--uh--two hours. Maybe more." He coughed. "Maybe less." Ward glared at the crippled ships. "And they would try it at night?" Tahn coughed assent. "There will be a good moon. I would try it." Damn. Forces from three sides that, united, would blow them right out of the water. They could meet any of them alone, but.... "If we could slip south," he pondered aloud, "we could--" Tahn snarled, his face an unearthly mask in the dimming light. His breath whistled between his teeth. "You _polasti_!" he hissed. Ward straightened and faced him. The Kali around froze in their tracks. _Polasti_ was the foulest word in their language. "Kali have died in this water just now," Tahn was barely able to manage his voice. "They are down there right now. We will not run and disgrace them! We will stand here. We will put a wall of sails and guns around this spot, and if we die it will be in honor. We will run no more. _We will run no more!_" He was trembling when he finished, and Ward expected a knife to make one final arc. It was impossible to try to explain. It was broken.... That thought crashed through as a knife never could. It's over. The Grimnal will surround this pitiful fleet like a storm. It's over; we've lost the fight, the war and the planet. And I've done it. It's my baby. The thing seared him, roared through him, shook him--and touched a secret place. A deep place where he stored his anger. All his past angers, big and little; covered stifled, caught and hidden. Old hurts, old dreams, old reproaches screamed and gibbered through him like a thousand ghosts and devils. They swamped the gentle man. They dragged him down and gagged him. And something else took his place--something that had never been allowed to stand before.