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 arculé 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.