He thought he hadn’t actually passed out. Dimly he heard the call of the zero-gee warning, and then the sudden release as the engines cut. He gasped in relief as he floated free in his harness, and he saw a dim tunnel in front of him, a tunnel that slowly brightened and widened until he saw the control room before him, the other officers blinking and blowing their cheeks as they looked at the world reborn.
Illustriousrotated through a brief weightless arc, and then an alarm rang and the engines cut in again, their ferocity tamed in a modest one-gee acceleration.
Martinez checked his displays. Bleskoth and Light Squadron 5 were still coming on under fierce acceleration, ready to round Pelomatan in another eight or nine hours and overtake Chenforce somewhere on the far side of Okiray.
There was a blinking light on his display, a reminder, and he looked at it to discover that missiles had destroyed Wormhole Station 1 while the squadron was thundering its way around Pelomatan. The crew hadn’t evacuated, either because they didn’t have a lifeboat or because they decided to remain in case Bleskroth had any stirring messages to send on to Naxas. He reported this fact to Michi.
“Excellent,” she said, and yawned.
Another set of lights flashed on Martinez’s display. These pointed to the fact that eight of what Severin had identified as enemy decoys, which had been preceding Chenforce on its loop around Protipanu, had just begun a course change and acceleration. They were going to cut inside the next planet, Okiray, and intercept Chenforce on the other side.
“There they are, my lady,” Martinez said as he drew attention to this on the wall display. “These are the decoys that Bleskoth wants us to think are his real squadron. They’re maneuvering as if to bring on an engagement on the far side of Okiray, cutting right across our course, and conveniently staying out of range until that point.” More lights flashed. “Ah. And other sets of decoys are setting up to support them.” Admiration for Bleskoth began to shimmer in his mind. “It’s pretty clever, actually. He’s got another set of decoys between us and his real squadron, and if we feel any threat in our rear it’s going to be there, not his actual squadron.”
It was an ingenious way of minimizing Bleskoth’s tactical disadvantages. To an omnipotent observer, sitting far above Protipanu’s north pole, it would look as if the Naxids were chasing the loyalists down and about to fly up their tailpipes.
From Bleskoth’s perspective, however, he was flogging himself and his crew senseless in a desperate acceleration right into the muzzles of two hundred and ninety-six missile launchers. If he could keep those missile launchers firing at decoys right up until the critical moment, he had a chance of bringing off a victory.
Martinez made a note to himself that if he ever found himself defending a star system in the future, he should remember these tactics. If, that is, he could be sure there was no one like Severin to give his game away.
Hours passed. Martinez’s mind buzzed with tactics, trajectories, calculations, and occasional flashes of deep paranoia, suspicion that a Naxid, just off camera, had been holding a gun on Severin for their entire conversation. Martinez kept the computer busy calculating possible courses, accelerations, and intercepts. Michi gave the order for the whole squadron to open fire with their point-defense lasers on the decoys rushing toward them from Okiray. The range was impossibly long and the targets were doing some dodging, but perhaps it relieved the squadron’s weapons officers of any tension that might have built up during the long hours of waiting.
With the lasers still firing, Michi announced time for supper. Command ofIllustrious passed to Lieutenant Kazakov as Captain Fletcher joined Martinez and Michi at her table. White-gloved formality was preserved, but the custom of not discussing Fleet business at meals was not. Michi was determined to weigh her officers’ ideas.
“I’m concerned with what to do after we pass Okiray,” she said. “Should we head straight for Wormhole Three, or swing around toward Olimandu and a complete circuit of the system? If we make a circuit we guarantee an engagement, but delay our exit from Protipanu by days. If we head for the wormhole, we give Bleskoth the opportunity to break off the fight, or just to pursue us at a distance.”
Fletcher stirred his soup with a delicate motion of his spoon, releasing the fragrance of ginger and the fried onion that substituted for scallion. “I agree with you, my lady, that we must beat them here. A victory would be of enormous value to the government and to loyalist morale, particularly after the fall of the capital.”
“How would the government find out we’d won?” Michi asked. “We’d have to send someone back to carry the news.”
“A pinnace pilot could do the job,” Fletcher said. He turned to Martinez with a lofty look. “Perhaps we could send someone back inDaffodil, ” he said. “Less discomfort for the pilot, and we don’t lose a pinnace that way.”
“I wouldn’t recommend sending anyone back as long as there are still some of those hundred-odd Naxid decoys in the system,” Martinez said. “We don’t know how they’re programmed—any boat we send back would be defenseless against them.”
“Not if we make a complete circuit of the system,” Fletcher continued. “We’d launch the boat after we pass Aratiri, and from there it’s a straight flight to Wormhole Two.”
“With all respect to Lord Captain Fletcher,” he said, “I think we should go straight for the exit. Bleskoth isn’t putting himself through that homicidal acceleration just to let us fly away. Hewants a fight. It’s not in his character to let us get away without one.”
“His character?” Fletcher repeated. His voice was strangely dreamlike. “Are you personally acquainted with Captain Bleskoth?”
“Not personally,” Martinez said, “but I’ve looked at his record. He’s young, he’s a yachting champion, he was captain of the lighumane team. He destroyed our fleet at Felarus very effectively. Everything points toward his being an aggressive, decisive commander. Just look at the way he’s coming after us.”
Fletcher stirred his soup again. “I ask because Ido know Bleskoth. He was a lieutenant in the newQuest when I hadSwift. He wasn’t very aggressive then—he toed Renzak’s line pretty severely, and toadied the squadcom dreadfully, the way those Naxids do.”
Martinez saw the edifice he’d built begin a slip toward an abyss, and he made an effort to snatch it back. “How did he do at the yachting?” he asked, rather hopelessly.
“Middling, as I remember. I don’t really follow the yacht scores.”
An idea struck Martinez. “Who was the squadron commander?”
Fletcher tasted his soup before answering. “Fanagee.”
“Ah.” Martinez turned to Lady Michi. “Fanagee passed over a good many officers in order to put Bleskoth in command at Felarus. I think he must have been part of the conspiracy even then.”
Michi nodded. “That’s plausible.” She turned to Fletcher. “How well did you know Bleskoth?”
“I dealt with Captain Reznak regularly. Bleskoth was there fairly often, dancing attendance.”
When Naxids danced attendance they reallydanced, Martinez knew; their little bobs and twitches in the company of a superior would seem funny if they weren’t so eerie.Please ignore this unworthy person, the body language seemed to say,but while you’re ignoring me, please take note of the excellent qualities of my cringing and the sincere tone of my supplication.
Michi looked thoughtful. “We’ve got quite a lot of time yet before we need to make any decisions,” she said. “But if Bleskoth keeps up this pursuit, I’m inclined to Captain Martinez’s opinion.”