Walter Williams - Conventions of War

“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?”