Chandra made notes on her sleeve display, which were reflected in another one of the wall displays that showed a list of ships, with tick marks in one of three columns.
“Sit down, Captain,” Michi said. “There’ll be food and coffee in a minute.”
Martinez found a seat and listened to another report. More ticks went into different columns.
The next report was from Sula. Her silver-gilt hair was pinned back and revealed her delicate ears. A flush floated in the translucence of her cheeks, and defiance glittered in her green eyes. She wasn’t wearing a vac suit, but wore instead her undress tunic. Martinez figured she had showered and changed before reporting.
“Light Squadron Seventeen reports the loss ofCouncillor andEager, ” she said. “All other ships are undamaged and prepared to engage the enemy.”
Martinez stared. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so arrogant.
“Missile stores?” Michi asked.
Sula gave her precise numbers for each of her ships. She hadn’t fired so prodigiously as other ships, and she’d preserved nearly half the missiles in her magazines.
“Thank you, Captain Sula,” Michi said. “You’ve done an outstanding job.”
“Yes, my lady,” Sula said, and blanked the screen.
Yes,she had said. NotThank you.
No humility here,Martinez thought.
Two of Michi’s servants arrived with plates, silverware, and a casserole that had been quietly baking while the missiles were slashing between ships. Coffee and water arrived shortly after. The mingled scent of tomatoes and garlic rose gently into the air as dinner was dished out, and everyone began eating and working with the figures in the wall displays.
All squadrons reported in. Twenty-eight ships were capable of action. The rest would be left behind to guard Magaria’s system from any Naxid counterattack—and at least some of them could receive repair at Magaria’s ring, assuming that Magaria surrendered.
“Twenty-eight against thirty,” Michi said thoughtfully.
“The Naxids will have a high percentage of damaged ships,” Martinez said. “Ours was nearly a third, and theirs might well be higher.”
“I’m worried less about that,” Michi said, “than why they’re retreating.”
“Panic?” Martinez suggested. “Terror?”
Grim amusement glittered beneath Michi’s dark bangs. “Possibly. But it bothers me that they stopped fighting when they did. I’m wondering what they’re runningto.”
“Reinforcements?” Martinez said. “But wouldn’t they have sent reinforcementshere? To Magaria?”
“I’m sure they would have if it were possible. But possibly they still have ships guarding Naxas, or they have ships under construction or undergoing trials.”
“There can’t be that many. And if any are new construction, they’ll have inexperienced crews and maybe they won’t have even shaken down. We’ll blow them to bits.”
Michi allowed herself a smile. “I suspect you’re right, Lord Captain.”
“Momentum’s on our side, my lady. We can finish them quickly if we don’t give them a chance to catch their breath.”
Michi’s smile broadened. “Please remember,” she said, “that this pursuit is my idea. You don’t have to talk me into it.”
Chandra snickered. Martinez decided this was a good moment to change the subject.
“We can have the damaged ships donate their missiles to the pursuit force,” he said. “That’ll help fill our magazines.”
“Not necessary.” Michi turned to her casserole.
“My lady?”
“Tork’s insurance policy.” Michi spoke around a mouthful of food. “In four days, something like two thousand missiles are going to rip into the system at relativistic speeds.”
Martinez stared. Michi swallowed, then took a drink of water.
“Unless they get the right code,” Michi said, “they’re going to hit every ship they can find.”
Insurance policy,Martinez thought.
“So just in case the Naxids won another victory here,” he said, “Tork was going to do his best to destroy any Naxids remaining.”
“And the Magaria ring,” Michi added, “so the Naxids couldn’t repair.” She took another sip of water.
“He called us pirates for Bai-do,” Martinez said. “Now he’s going to blow up the Magaria ring?”
“Pirate is the nicest thing Tork would have been called if he’d lost this battle,” Michi said. “I’m sure he knew that.”
“I suppose you have the code to control the missiles,” Martinez said, “otherwise we’d be piling on the gravities to escape the system by whatever wormhole is nearest.”
“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?”