Walter Williams - Conventions of War

He had a final breakfast with Acting Captain Fulvia Kazakov and gave her the combination to his safe. His belongings and his portrait were packed. He had Buckle give him a final haircut so he could make the best possible impression on his new officers.

In his address to the crew ofIllustrious, he told them how privileged he felt to have commanded them in battle and how proud he was of them. He said that his current assignment was temporary and that he would be back after Lady Michi finished off the Naxid fleet once and for all.

He heard the cheers ringing down the corridors. Smiling, carrying the Golden Orb, he made a royal progress to the airlock, where he met his servants and the cadet, Falana, who would act as his signals officer. He stepped aboardDaffodil for the journey to Squadron 31.

As the airlock door swung shut, he heard one rigger turn to another and say, “There goes our damn luck, off to that useless undeserving set of buggers.”

He stepped aboard Lieutenant Captain Lady Elissa Dalkeith’sCourage twenty minutes later, to the usual honor guard, the silent row of officers, and a jaunty recording of “Our Thoughts Are Ever Guided by the Praxis.”

Dalkeith had been his premiere onCorona. She was middle age and gray-haired, and had been languishing as a very senior lieutenant until Faqforce’s victory at Hone-bar had put all Martinez’s officers into the spotlight. She had been lucky enough to be promoted to Lieutenant Captain after the battle, when Martinez’s star was at its height but before Lord Tork and his clique had decided to drag that star down by main force.

“Welcome toCourage, Lord Captain,” she said. Martinez was surprised, for about the hundredth time, at Dalkeith’s voice, the high-pitched piping lisp of a child.

“Happy to be aboard,” he said.

He shook her hand and was introduced to her officers, then escorted to his quarters.

Couragewas a large frigate, with twenty-four missile launchers in three batteries, and was enough likeCorona that Martinez was surprised when he came across the occasional difference. Frigates had no quarters for flag officers aboard, since light squadrons were usually commanded by the senior captain rather than a designated squadron commander. As he had once displaced Kazakov from her quarters onIllustrious, he now displaced Dalkeith, who displaced her first lieutenant, and so on down the line.

More annoying was the fact thatCourage had no Flag Officer Station. Martinez would command Squadron 31 from Auxiliary Command, from the couch normally used by Dalkeith’s first lieutenant, who was supplanted-again-to one of the engine boards, where she would monitor the ship’s condition from a reconfigured station. Since the premiere-whose name was Khanh-had little to do in combat other than wait for Dalkeith to die, the inconvenience was not crucial.

Nor were the sleeping arrangements going to be much of a disadvantage to anyone. Martinez knew he wouldn’t have much chance to sleep in the bed he’d taken from Dalkeith-that Michi was planning a series of heavy accelerations-and suspected he’d be doing most of his sleeping on his acceleration couch.

Martinez left Alikhan and Narbonne to stow his belongings, procured a cup of coffee from the kitchen, and headed for Auxiliary Command. His new aide, Cadet Lord Ismir Falana, contacted the captains of Squadron 31 while he inhaled the coffee aroma and took his first sip.

Martinez met them in virtual, four rows of three little portraits. Of his twelve captains, four were Terran, two Daimong, four Torminel, and two were survivors from one of the Fleet’s rare Cree squadrons. The Cree were not a species much tempted by the military life. Once they could be persuaded to join, they served aboard ships modified with displays that made use of their superb hearing and deemphasized their poor vision. A Terran in a Cree control room would find it a dark place filled with maddening sonic interference and white noise.

Supposedly the Cree all slept piled together in a heap, officers in one stateroom, enlisted in heaps of their own. This was what they did at home, except at home the females were part of the piles too. The females were unintelligent quadrupeds and were rarely allowed on ships. The males were unintelligent quadrupeds for their first years of life, but then straightened and grew large brains.

Nature was odd, especially where the Cree came from.

“Welcome to you all,” Martinez said. “I am Captain Lord Gareth Martinez, and I have been assigned by Lady Michi Chen to take command of this provisional squadron. I suppose some of you might be surprised to find me in charge of the squadron, and you wonder how I am qualified to command such a group of experienced officers.

“First, I’m an honors graduate of the Nelson Academy. I worked hard as a cadet and a lieutenant, and served on shipboard as well as on the staff of Fleet Commander Enderby. I won the Golden Orb by rescuingCorona from the Naxids.

“And then,” he said, “I married your squadcom’s niece.”

He looked from one blank face to the next.

“You may laugh,” he said.

Only the Cree seemed to find this amusing. Martinez decided he might as well surrender his career as a wit.

“I expect we’ll be working very hard,” he said. “I have been ordered to work up this squadron in a new system of tactics.”

“We’re defying the Supreme Commander’s express orders?”

This from Captain Tantu, the Daimong commander of the light cruiserVigilant. By virtue of his seniority, Tantu had commanded the squadron until now.

“The situation has changed, my lord,” Martinez said smoothly. “The Supreme Commander is out of contact, and we’re following the enemy so closely that it’s unlikely a conventional battle will develop. Lady Michi feels that we should look into different tactical options-those employed at Protipanu, for instance.”

What Tantu thought of this was hidden behind his expressionless Daimong face. Those faces that Martinez could read seemed intrigued.

“The wise worm learns from the worm-eater,” said one of the Cree.

“And the tree rejoices in the night rains,” said the other.

Martinez looked at them. “Ye-es,” he said.

“My lord?”

One of the Terran captains looked at him with a question poised on her lips.

“Yes, my lady?” he said.

“Is this the Foote Formula we’ll be learning?”

He smiled. “No. Something better than that.”

“Ghost Tactics?” lisped one of the Torminel.

Martinez paused for a moment of surprise, in which he deduced that the White Ghost had given their tactical innovations a name that reflected glory on her and left him out of the picture.

Well, he thought. One good turn deserved another.

“Not quite,” he said. “We’re going to practice the Martinez Method.”

Sula was pleased to have her squadron again, though she was sorry at the effort she’d wasted on Carmody. She had to wonder which way he would have jumped in the end.

Still the point of the spear, she andConfidence raced on the track of the enemy. The Naxids had gained something like twenty hours on their pursuers, and Michi wanted to narrow the distance.

Sula approved. Like Michi, she wondered what it was the Naxids were retreating to, and whether there were reinforcements speeding to Naxas or already there.

Whatever the Naxids planned, timing had to be a crucial element. And the faster the loyalists pursued, the more the Naxids would be forced to advance their timing, straining ships and crew and equipment. The more the enemy were stressed, the more likely they were to make mistakes.

Maybe those reinforcements-if they existed-wouldn’t turn up in time.

The price of wrecking the Naxids’ timing was enduring a three-gravity acceleration at least fifteen hours per day. The rest of the time was spent in drills and experiments, working the squadron’s two new ships into the pattern. The only people excused from the drills were the cooks, who produced the meals that the crew gobbled at their action stations.