Turn 64

    "Val, I just can't hit them hard enough to quickly disable. I think they're going to try and board us!" Emmett yells as he preps the ballista for another shot. "Pham, I got a tricky shot ahead. Can you help send them a message?"
    Pham nods at Emmett, and invokes Hextor's blessing on the crew of the _Distraction_. He then moves amidships. He can't really help with the ballista, so he positions himself to move as quickly as possible to tend to the wounded if needed.
    Ibn Fadil, who has been busy staying out of the way of the people with real 'seamanship' skills, makes his way over to the winch and stands ready to close the shell again if (when) it becomes necessary. He very much hopes that it won't come to boarding, since the _Magnus_'s crew undoubtedly outnumbers them considerably.
    "I suppose the best thing would be to make sure they don't board us," Val mutters to nobody in particular. "Emmett," he calls over his shoulder, "Can you take out their ballista?" If only there was a way to disable the hammership. Or to use up their breathable air...
    An idea starts to take shape in the back of Val's mind. An old sailor that taught him the ropes of sailing on a spelljammer once told him that the envelope of air around a ship is all she's got; that's why they carry plants to replenish the fresh air. But if all the air were to be used up, or *burned* up, the crew would be in danger.
    "Emmett! Fire!" he yells back again.
    The Half-man does so, the twang of the giant string echoing chromically across the _Distraction's_ weapons deck. It's a good shot, scattering giff like tenpins; though at this distance it's hard to tell how much actual damage was done, it has gained the _Distraction_ time while their pursuers regroup around the main weapon.
    "Not *that* kind of fire," Val hollers as he scrambles over to the turret. "*Fire* fire. What do we have that can burn their air out?"
    Rum! Of course... Now, how to get it over to the hammer and make it ignite. Val thinks for a moments and calls for someone to grab a keg of rum from the hold and for Nyala to bring her bow. As Val explains, the elf's pale eyebrows twitch upwards, suggesting incredulity, but she stands ready to do her part, one hand caressing the smooth wood of her weapon for a moment before she takes her position.
    Ibn Fadil is similarly not moved to optimism by this idea, but he does vanish in the direction of the hold and shortly return with a small cask of rum.
    Aboard the _Magnus_, Gustan's trained and disciplined crew bustles about in a flurry of barked orders, seeing to those who were wounded in the latest exchange of ballista fire. The catapults are impossible to aim with any accuracy in this kind of twisting chase, so those crew are prepared to act as a boarding party. They are, as always, prepared to carry out their orders: take as many as possible alive.
    On the bridge, Gustan watches the little damselfly run, keeping one eye on his own pilot the meanwhile. The humans had not been part of Fang's scheme, and although they had gone along with the ship's flight out of pragmatic regard for their own skins, he had never been quite sure what they were thinking, fuming against the accident of fate that left his own people unable to operate any magical device reliably and forced them to depend on other species.
    Now he leans forward as if he can thus compel more speed out of the hammership. _It appears that young Alais is not a bad wizard, for a crackpot._ He notes another flurry of activity on their deck and squints his tiny eyes, wondering what they're up to.
    Meanwhile Hiro moves calmly and serenely but with a speed to the cargo hatch. Along with the opening of the weapons deck it is the most likely approach to boarding the _Distraction_ that the malevolent minions of the _Magnus_ would take. His departure signals to both Yestin and Emmett that they should be ready to bring the hull back into defensive position over the exposed deck.
    Back in the hold, he studies the configuration for a moment, then arranges some crates to block the path of any invaders. Some oil and caltrops on the floor complete the welcome.
    Meanwhile, Alais continues to press the ship to its limits in its desperate flight.
    On the weapons deck, ibn Fadil returns with the cask and steadies it on the aft edge while Nyala prepares her arrow.
    "Now!"
    The physics of wildspace are a strange thing. Rum from the open cask slides down the smooth hull, reaches the ship's gravity plane and streams along it until it reaches the edge of the air envelope and freedom, after which it spreads uncertainly, hanging in threads and globs. At Val's order Alais turns the ship once again, diving sharply to put this frail curtain between the _Distraction_ and her pursuit. Steady-handed, Nyala watches the hammership's progress before loosing her shaft. The curtain becomes a veil of flame just as the hammership dives through it.
    Its passage is too swift for the heavy wood of the vessel to catch fire itself, but from the _Distraction_'s deck ibn Fadil and the others can see quite a few badly singed giff running about. Unfortunately the pursuing pilot is not inconvenienced, but the _Magnus_'s greater size is beginning to tell, losing a small bit of distance as the chase goes on.
    

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