Conventions of War

THIRTY-THREE

“I’ve ordered all squadron commanders to give a complete report on the status of their ships,” Michi said. “If we can build a large enough force, I’m going to swing around the far side of Magaria and head right for Wormhole Five on the tail of the enemy.”

A sense of pure satisfaction sang like a Daimong chorus in Martinez’s head.

“Yes, my lady,” he said.

“You were right when you told Chandra that the Naxid fleetis the rebellion,” Michi said. “Kill their ships, and the war dies.” She returned her attention to the screen. “Yes, my lord,” she said. “Continue.”

“Compliancehas frames broken, two bulkheads breached, and two missile batteries severely damaged by heat,” reported the captain of theConformance. “I doubt it’ll be able to pull heavy gravities, and though a well-equipped dock might save her, it might be easier in the end to scrap the ship and build a new one.Submission has suffered hull breach in two places and the death of sixty-odd crew, but reports the hull damage is repairable and that repairs are ongoing. The captain reports the ship as ready for battle, though half of one missile battery has been permanently slagged.Conformance has suffered superficial damage, and is ready to continue the fight now, though our magazines are at two-fifths full strength.”

“Don’t worry about missiles,” Michi said. “We’ll get you more. Thank you, Lord Captain.”

Don’t worry about missiles. That was interesting. Perhaps Michi intended the damaged ships to donate their unfired missiles to those about to go in pursuit of the Naxids.

Chandra made notes on her sleeve display, which were reflected in another one of the wall displays that showed a list of ships, with tick marks in one of three columns.

“Sit down, Captain,” Michi said. “There’ll be food and coffee in a minute.”

Martinez found a seat and listened to another report. More ticks went into different columns.

The next report was from Sula. Her silver-gilt hair was pinned back and revealed her delicate ears. A flush floated in the translucence of her cheeks, and defiance glittered in her green eyes. She wasn’t wearing a vac suit, but wore instead her undress tunic. Martinez figured she had showered and changed before reporting.

“Light Squadron Seventeen reports the loss ofCouncillor andEager, ” she said. “All other ships are undamaged and prepared to engage the enemy.”

Martinez stared. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so arrogant.

“Missile stores?” Michi asked.

Sula gave her precise numbers for each of her ships. She hadn’t fired so prodigiously as other ships, and she’d preserved nearly half the missiles in her magazines.

“Thank you, Captain Sula,” Michi said. “You’ve done an outstanding job.”

“Yes, my lady,” Sula said, and blanked the screen.

Yes,she had said. NotThank you.

No humility here,Martinez thought.

Two of Michi’s servants arrived with plates, silverware, and a casserole that had been quietly baking while the missiles were slashing between ships. Coffee and water arrived shortly after. The mingled scent of tomatoes and garlic rose gently into the air as dinner was dished out, and everyone began eating and working with the figures in the wall displays.

All squadrons reported in. Twenty-eight ships were capable of action. The rest would be left behind to guard Magaria’s system from any Naxid counterattack-and at least some of them could receive repair at Magaria’s ring, assuming that Magaria surrendered.

“Twenty-eight against thirty,” Michi said thoughtfully.

“The Naxids will have a high percentage of damaged ships,” Martinez said. “Ours was nearly a third, and theirs might well be higher.”

“I’m worried less about that,” Michi said, “than why they’re retreating.”

“Panic?” Martinez suggested. “Terror?”

Grim amusement glittered beneath Michi’s dark bangs. “Possibly. But it bothers me that they stopped fighting when they did. I’m wondering what they’re runningto.”

“Reinforcements?” Martinez said. “But wouldn’t they have sent reinforcementshere? To Magaria?”

“I’m sure they would have if it were possible. But possibly they still have ships guarding Naxas, or they have ships under construction or undergoing trials.”

“There can’t be that many. And if any are new construction, they’ll have inexperienced crews and maybe they won’t have even shaken down. We’ll blow them to bits.”

Michi allowed herself a smile. “I suspect you’re right, Lord Captain.”

“Momentum’s on our side, my lady. We can finish them quickly if we don’t give them a chance to catch their breath.”

Michi’s smile broadened. “Please remember,” she said, “that this pursuit is my idea. You don’t have to talk me into it.”

Chandra snickered. Martinez decided this was a good moment to change the subject.

“We can have the damaged ships donate their missiles to the pursuit force,” he said. “That’ll help fill our magazines.”

“Not necessary.” Michi turned to her casserole.

“My lady?”

“Tork’s insurance policy.” Michi spoke around a mouthful of food. “In four days, something like two thousand missiles are going to rip into the system at relativistic speeds.”

Martinez stared. Michi swallowed, then took a drink of water.

“Unless they get the right code,” Michi said, “they’re going to hit every ship they can find.”

Insurance policy,Martinez thought.

“So just in case the Naxids won another victory here,” he said, “Tork was going to do his best to destroy any Naxids remaining.”

“And the Magaria ring,” Michi added, “so the Naxids couldn’t repair.” She took another sip of water.

“He called us pirates for Bai-do,” Martinez said. “Now he’s going to blow up the Magaria ring?”

“Pirate is the nicest thing Tork would have been called if he’d lost this battle,” Michi said. “I’m sure he knew that.”

“I suppose you have the code to control the missiles,” Martinez said, “otherwise we’d be piling on the gravities to escape the system by whatever wormhole is nearest.”

“That’s right. The right code, and all those missiles turn into our resupply. We’re going to have to decelerate enough to stay in the system and recover at least some of the missiles before we go on to Wormhole Five.”

“How many people know this code?”

“It was given to all flag officers.”

“Three of whom seem to be dead. If you’d all been killed, it would have been hard on any survivors.”

“Lucky that Altasz and I survived,” Michi said equably. “Which brings me to my next point. I’m going to have to leave Altasz here to command the remnant we’re leaving behind-which is easy, because his ship is damaged too. The twenty-eight ships of the attack force will divide neatly into three squadrons. I’ll take one, and Sula will have another.” Michi looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I don’t suppose you’d care to command the third?”

Martinez took at least two seconds to bask in the radiant joy that suddenly filled him-and then the joy came to an abrupt end as Li bent to a communication flashing on her sleeve display.

“Communication, my lady,” she said, “from Lord Tork.”

A sudden dark pall fell on the room like a cloud across the sun.

“Put it on the wall,” Michi said, and straightened in her chair as she looked at the wall and its camera pickup. One of the wall screens filled with Tork’s wide-eyed, gray, expressionless face.

“Yes, Lord Commander,” Michi said. “I rejoice to see you alive.”

Martinez, for his part, could barely keep from snarling. His squadron was now surely a lost cause.

“Please report, Lady Michi,” Tork said.

“We have thirty-nine confirmed survivors, and two silent ships we’re not sure about. I was in the process of assembling a force of our twenty-eight effectives for an immediate pursuit of the enemy.”

Due to the growing distance betweenIllustrious andJudge Urhug, there was a pause of several seconds before Tork responded. Martinez studied his image, and saw that the Supreme Commander wasn’t wearing a vac suit. His torso was encased in puffy bright orange plastic-he was wearing one of the inflatable body casts used by Fleet medics. He was a more leaden color than Martinez had ever seen him. His face was free of strips of dead skin, which argued that some medic had just cleaned him up.

“Very good, Lady Michi,” Tork said. “Your pursuit is authorized.”

Martinez was surprised. He’d been expecting Tork to want to orbit Magaria for another three or four months before his next advance.

“Kindly send me all information on the status of the fleet and your proposed dispositions,” Tork said.

Michi did so. There was another pause while they watched Tork’s wide, round eyes absorb the data. If he felt any regret at losing over half his command while winning his victory, he failed to show it.

“Acting Squadron Commander Altasz shall remain in the Magaria system to command the stay-behind force,” Tork said. “You may take all the remaining heavy cruisers into Squadron Nine-no, all butSplendid, which will join Squadron Seventeen, and its captain will replace Lady Sula as its squadron commander. The remaining vessels may form a light squadron under…would it be Captain Tantu?”

Misery at losing his squadron warred in Martinez with rage on behalf of Sula. She might be murderous, insolent, and insane, but she and her squadron had performed brilliantly, losing fewer ships than any other formation and inflicting far greater harm on the enemy.

“I believe Tantu is senior, my lord,” Michi said. “But wouldn’tSplendid make a more logical member of the heavy squadron?”

“I desire that Captain Sula be superseded,” Tork said. “She disobeyed my express orders and starburst early during the battle. She refused to reform when ordered to do so. I want a loyal captain in charge who will bring her to proper obedience.”

Martinez could see that Michi was on the verge of offering further comment, but then decided against it.

“Yes, my lord,” she said. “Do you need help? Shall I send a vessel to bring you off theUrhug?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Tork said. “I’ve suffered spinal damage and the doctor says I shouldn’t be subjected to high accelerations. I am told thatJudge Urhug will have one engine repaired within twenty-nine hours, and that should provide a slow deceleration that will put me on the Magaria ring station about the time that the fast-healer hormones have repaired my injuries. Now that communication has been restored, my staff and I can continue to run the Righteous and Orthodox Fleet of Vengeance from theUrhug, at least for the present.”

Would Tork never give up? Martinez wondered. Would he never die, retire, check himself into the Fleet hospital, blow his brains out?

Would Tork never get out of Martinez’s way?

“I wish you to demand the surrender of Magaria and the enemy fleet,” Tork said. “Though I very much derire to issue the ultimatum myself, the fact of its coming from a near-derelict ship might reduce its impact.”

Not to mention attract enemy missiles.

Martinez was cast in gloom for the rest of the conversation, and then the planning session that followed. Finally Michi dropped her coffee cup into its saucer and gave him a severe look.

“Cheer up, will you?” she said. “We’re alive, we’ve won the battle, we’ll win the next.”

“Yes, my lady,” Martinez agreed.

“And Tork’s arrangements will last only until we pass through Wormhole Five. After that, I can arrange the fleet to my liking, and you’re just the acting squadron commander who can whip our provisional light squadron into shape and teach it the tactics that will win us a victory at Naxas.”

Martinez paused a moment while a carillon rang changes of joy through his head. Michi grinned.

“That’s better,” she said.

Sula took her supersession with equanimity. She had defied Tork, flouted his death sentence, then rubbed salt into his wounds by blowing up sixteen enemy ships at the cost of two of her own. There wasn’t an officer in the fleet who hadn’t seen the superiority of Ghost Tactics demonstrated on their very own tactics displays.

She hoped Tork was furious. She hoped he was raving. She hoped that every time he thought of her, he sprayed angry spittle over everyone in the Flag Officer Station.

All Tork could do in response to her defiance was put a nobody like Carmody of theSplendid over her. If an officer of hers had defied her the way she’d defied Tork, she would have thought of something much more interesting to do with him.

Splendidshouldered its way into Squadron 17 like a prizefighter moving through a crowd of schoolchildren. Sula was having tea in her little bare-walled office when the new squadcom called.

Or rather, his communications officer. Sula looked at the wall display and saw the handsome face of Jeremy Foote.

“Hello, Foote,” she said. “How’s the formula?”

He flushed. “Captain Carmody to speak with you.”

Carmody appeared, a blocky-looking man with ginger whiskers. Behind him Sula saw rich arcule paneling. He was presumably calling from his quarters, which would allow her to be frank.

“Yes, my lord,” Sula said. “How may I help you?”

“I wanted to speak with you personally,” Carmody said. “I want you to know that I did not seek this appointment, and in fact was rather surprised by it.”

“I think we all were, my lord,” Sula said cheerfully.

“Ye-es.” Carmody’s brow furrowed, as if he had lost his place in the conversation and was trying to find it again. “I witnessed Squadron Seventeen’s performance in the battle,” he said after a moment, “and I hope I can perform as well.”

“You won’t,” Sula said, “if you obey Lord Tork’s orders.” She took a sip of the tea, sweetened as she liked it with cane syrup, and then looked at Carmody’s startled face. “Tell me, my lord, did the Supreme Commander give you any instructions regarding me?”

He blinked at her with puzzled blue eyes. “No. None. What do you mean?”

“I mean he wants me killed. I mean he sent Squadron Seventeen into combat without proper support. Surely you noticed.”

Expressions danced across Carmody’s face. His eyes showed surprise while his mouth showed shock. His mouth showed surprise while his eyes showed denial. Then his brow showed thought while his jaw showed resolution.

“Of course not, Captain,” he said. “Why would the fleetcom do such a thing?”

“It’s rather a long story,” Sula said. “But I think Lord Tork feels that the empire would be better off without me. He can’t get rid of me-another long story-but he thinks it would be just as well if the Naxids sent me to my reward.”

Carmody visibly calmed himself. “I can assure you the Supreme Commander has implied no such thing in any communication with me. In any case, I would decline any such directive when the life of a fellow officer is at stake.”

Sula found herself rather touched by this brotherly declaration.

“Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your goodwill.” She took another sip of tea, and wondered if she’d just convinced Carmody that she was crazy. She put down her teacup.

“Did Lord Tork give you instructions regarding tactics to be employed against the enemy?”

“He said he would permit no innovations.”

Sula gave a slow nod. “You served in a squadron that permitted no innovations, a squadron that suffered casualties so severe that it had to be broken up. I don’t envy you your choices, my lord.”

Carmody looked uncertain. The conversation had taken another unexpected turn.

“Ah-perhaps not.” Probably not even Carmody knew what he meant by this answer.

“I was able to use Ghost Tactics because I knew that Lord Tork wanted me dead anyway. I had nothing to lose. Whereasyou — if you act to prevent a slaughter of your own crews, you may earn the Supreme Commander’s undying enmity. But if you don’t use Ghost Tactics, your command could be slaughtered, and you with it.”

Carmody’s face did that little dance again. Sula tried to keep her smile hidden behind her eyes.

Of the many possibilities raised by her words, Carmody decided to focus on what was probably the safest.

“Ghost Tactics?” he asked.

“I’ll send you the formula, and the lecture I prepared for the squadron.” She smiled. “Even if you choose not to use them, at least you’ll be able to understand what the other captains are talking about.”

Michi demanded surrender, and Magaria gave it. The Naxid fleet, possessing more choice in the matter, did not. It wasn’t clear whether the enemy commander was still Dakzad, since no one responded to Michi’s ultimatum.

Probably Dakzad was dead, Martinez thought. He hadn’t tried to argue ideology or give Michi orders.

Michi put Magaria in the charge of Junior Fleet Commander Jinja, who had been captured there on the first day of the rebellion and held in a prison on the surface ever since. She also ordered all Naxid military and security personnel to surrender their arms and evacuate the ring.

Martinez didn’t envy Jinja his job. The only forces he had were those that were captured with him, four or five thousand military to police several million Naxids.

Altasz and the stay-behind force would help, though. Altasz, along with his missiles, to keep everyone on the planet and the ring compliant and obedient.

Martinez wondered if his old shipmates fromCorona were well. Fahd Tarafah, his old football-crazy captain, and his premiere Koslowski, the talented goalie. And Lieutenant Garcia, the only other officer to believe that the Naxids were going to rise. At a crucial moment she had slipped him her lieutenant’s key, which allowed him to enableCorona ‘s weapons and permitted his escape.

He sent messages to them all to let them know thatCorona had survived and was in the system. There was no answer, so perhaps proper communications weren’t working yet, or the old Coronas had been moved to another planet.

He checked on his friends and lovers. Lady Elissa Dalkeith’sCourage had been lightly damaged, and would be part of the attack force. Vonderheydte’s cruiser had suffered severely and would remain in the Magaria system, but Vonderheydte had survived and seemed reasonably cheerful. Cadet Kelly, in her pinnace, had survived the strike that wiped out her shipmates, and was taken aboard Sula’sConfidence. Martinez could only hope that Sula and Kelly didn’t spend their time exchanging stories about him.

Ari Abacha’sGallant had done very well as part of Sula’s Squadron 17. Shushanik Severin’s Exploration Service frigateScout had been heavily damaged and would need dockyard repairs. Severin had survived with a broken collarbone.

Illustrioussent off repair parties to aid other ships. Some of them came back shocked at the carnage they’d seen. Martinez kept busy devising exercises for the squadron that Michi had promised him.

The two derelict ships turned out to be friendly. One had lost all its engines to antiproton weapons, and its crew was taken off by the other, which was barely able to maneuver.

Tork sent off a missile carrying his official report. It would accelerate to relativistic velocities between Magaria and Zanshaa, then broadcast its coded contents to the capital.

The attack force sorted itself into its new formations and began exercises to accustom each ship to maneuvering with its new comrades.

Two thousand missiles arrived in the system and, defanged by the proper codes, began braking at speeds that would have pulped any human. The weaponers spent several harried hours recovering missiles before the fleet narrowed its trajectory to pass the wormhole.

Still in the inflatable body cast, still on the flagship that was feebly decelerating in an attempt to claw its way back toward Magaria’s ring station, Tork issued a last ringing command.

“In the past, under the Shaa and the Praxis, the empire existed in a state of harmony and perfection. Your ancestors were a part of that harmony. It is your task to restore the lost perfection of the empire by cutting out the imperfect and disharmonious element.

“Prove yourselves worthy of your ancestors! Fulfill the perfection they have bequeathed to you! Purge yourself of irregularities and innovations!Long live the Praxis! ”

The Orthodox Fleet flashed through Magaria Wormhole 5, and at that instance became Chenforce. Martinez felt his heart sing a chorus of thanksgiving. Chenforce had been lucky for him.

He had his squadron now, and Tork was far behind.