Walter Williams - Conventions of War

Martinez stared at Tork’s image in shock.He’s taking my ship away?

Ships that went into refit were turned over to dock superintendents and lost their officers and crew.

The harmonies of Tork’s voice were implacable. “Because it would be premature to release any information regarding the battles, or the tactics employed, prior to the report of the committee, I must classify all this information as Highly Sequestered. Any publication or discussion of these matters will be deemed a violation of the Imperial Sequestration Edict and subject to prosecution.

“You will acknowledge receipt of these orders and proceed at once to Zanshaa.”

There was a highlight to Tork’s chiming voice that Martinez suspected was Daimong triumph.

It was all going to be hidden away,Martinez thought. The conclusions of the committee were foreordained. Innovations were a wrong path, and the orthodox tactics with which Tork had captured Magaria were going to be enshrined. Michi’s victories would be explained away or forgotten.

He could imagine already what the committee would say about Naxas. It wasn’t a real battle, it was fought against patched-together converted traders and warships heavily damaged at Magaria. Ofcourse it was one-sided. Under the circumstances, Michi Chen was criminally negligent for losing as many as four ships.

He turned to Michi. “What do we do?” he asked.

Michi’s look was matter-of-fact. “We obey orders.”

“And then?”

Michi considered the question for a half a second or so, then said, “We wait for Tork to die.”

“You could talk to Lord Chen. He’s on the Fleet Control Board.”

She nodded. “I’ll talk to Maurice, of course. But in order for him to reverse an order by the Supreme Commander, he’d need a majority of votes on the board, and I don’t think he’ll get them. Anything he attempts on our behalf will just look like special pleading on behalf of his relatives.” She pushed a plate toward him. “Almond cookie?”

Furious anger raged in Martinez. He put down his coffee cup before he crushed it in his hand.

“We can demand a court-martial,” he said.

“On what grounds?” Michi drummed her fingertips on the desk. “We’re not being sent to jail or ordered to cut our throats. We’re not being punished or reprimanded. That would cause a public outcry, and Tork doesn’t want that. All that’s happening is that we’re being sent to Zanshaa in order to testify before an elite commission.”

“I’m losing my ship,” Martinez pointed out.

“A routine refit.”

Martinez waved an arm. “There’s nothing routine about it! There are dozens of ships damaged in battle that should go into dock beforeIllustrious! And we’re ordered to dock in Zanshaa-the Zanshaa ring is awreck. Weblew it up! It will beyears before the ship gets out of dock.”

Michi looked down at the black, mirrored surface of her desk. “But there will be other ships. Many, many more. The Fleet’s building program won’t end with the war-Maurice told me that in a few years the Fleet will be nearly twice its size at the start of the war.”

Martinez rubbed his chin and felt the bristles that had grown while he was webbed to his acceleration couch. “There will be plenty of ships,” he said. “Fine. But will Tork give us command of any of them?”

Irony touched the corners of Michi’s lips. “At least we’ll have seniority over those he favors.”

Martinez looked up at the bronze woman who was gazing down at him with eerie composure. He wanted to rise from his chair and punch the perfect, serene face.

“Have you told Captain Sula?” he asked.

“No. Though she may have intercepted the message and decoded it herself. Why?”

“Because,” Martinez said, “once she hears Tork’s orders, I wouldn’t want to put her in the same solar system with Tork and a missile.”

Sula’s reaction to Tork’s orders was far from violent. She had known that Tork would retaliate for her defiance at Second Magaria, and she was surprised only at Tork’s moderation. He hadn’t ordered her throat cut; he hadn’t issued so much as a reprimand. She decided this was a measure of how weak Tork felt his own position to be.

If there was one thing she understood, it was the calculations of survival. Tork had killed forty or so enemy ships while losing forty ships of his own. Chenforce had killed nearly forty and lost only four.

Were the facts made available, Tork’s ability would be called into question. In order to justify his Golden Orb and his new permanent rank, the inconvenient data had to be suppressed.

The only surprise was the ingenuity of Tork’s response. He was a more subtle manipulator of the machinery of the Fleet than she’d thought.

After viewing his message, Sula took advantage of the break in deceleration to shower. As the water hammered her sore, gravity-torn muscles, and as the tiny metal-walled shower cabinet filled with the sandalwood scent of the translucent soap, she considered her future.

She had captain’s rank, and captain was higher than she had ever expected to rise. She had her medals. She had a modest fortune.

She didn’t have an army any longer. And very soon she would not have a ship.

She possessed fame, but didn’t particularly want it. Increased fame could lead to increased scrutiny, and someone with her past couldn’t afford that. Perhaps a few years in an obscure posting would be the safest alternative.

On the whole, she had little to complain about.

She had defied Lord Tork not out of a desire for glory, but out of pride. Her accomplishments were genuine. Her pride had not been compromised. Her pride was still alive. Tork could do nothing to take it away.

She had done well enough out of the war.

Then she paused in her scrubbing, thought of Martinez, and smiled. He was not the sort of person who would take Tork’s orders quietly.

He must be going crazy.

“You may not say that we won. You may not say that we destroyed the enemy at a ratio of ten to one. You may not say that we deployed superior tactics, or that any superior tactics even exist. These facts are to be forgotten until Pezzini’s report is released-ifit’s ever released. And you must tell your crew that they may not speak of these things either. We don’t want any of them to get in trouble.”

Martinez looked at his officers and saw their surprise at his vehemence. He forced a smile.

“I want to assure you that the Supreme Commander is very serious about this. The Investigative Service will look into anyone found to be careless with this information.” He gave them all a solemn look. “Careers may be at stake. I don’t want to jeopardize any of your advancement through my failure to emphasize the absolute nature of Lord Tork’s orders.”

He picked up his fork. “Now that I’ve got these unpleasant preliminaries out of the way, let’s enjoy our meal. I believe that Perry has done something brilliant with this tenderloin.”

The others ate thoughtfully as they sat beneath the murals of roistering ancients. Martinez had given them plenty to think about.

And to talk about. He knew there was no better advertisement for a subject than forbidding it to be mentioned. Lord Tork’s orders-at least as interpreted by him-would naturally offend the pride of every member of Chenforce. WhenIllustrious andCourage discharged their crews, and officers and enlisted made their way to new postings, they would take their offended pride with them.

It was ridiculous to command them not to talk about their accomplishments. They would talk in wardrooms over dinner, in drawing rooms over cocktails, and drunkenly in bars. They would boast of their time with Chenforce, of their service under Michi Chen and Martinez, of their own prowess.