He called up the tactical display and familiarized himself with the situation: Chenforce on its way to pass by Termaine, the two pinnaces and their squadrons of missiles ahead, Termaine surrounded by a cloud of ships that had been cast off and abandoned. If Fleet Commander Jakseth was preparing any act of defiance, he had yet to launch it.
“Lord Captain?” The voice was familiar, and a glance at his display showed that it belonged to Husayn, the weapons officer.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” Martinez answered.
“I was wondering if I’m likely to have to light the weapons board.”
Which was very tactful of Husayn, and Martinez mentally awarded him a few points. At the moment neither he, Husayn, or anyone else aboardIllustrious could fire its population-crushing array of weaponry. No single officer could do that, not until certain conditions were met.
Three officers—either the captain and two lieutenants or three lieutenants on their own—would have to turn their keys to unlock the weapons board, and at least two of those keys would have to be turned in different parts of the ship.
Martinez’s key was useless for the task—it wasn’t configured for a line officer in the correct chain of command. He would have to organize three of the lieutenants.
“Very good, Lord Lieutenant,” he said. He called the first lieutenant, Fulvia Kazakov, who was stationed in Auxiliary Command, ready to take charge ofIllustrious if Command and all senior officers were blown to bits, and had her insert her key along with Husayn and Chandra Prasad.
“Turn on my mark,” Martinez said. “This is not a drill. Three, two, one, mark.”
Husayn’s display brightened as all weapons went live.
“Thank you,” Martinez said. “Stand by.”
Lighting the weapons board was the most dramatic thing that happened until it was time to darken the weapons board again. The day crawled by like an arthritic animal looking for a hole to die in. Every so often one of the icons on the tactical display would move very slightly in one direction or another, and then everything would be still once more.
The pinnaces flashed past Termaine, cameras and sensors sweeping the planet’s ring for hidden weapons or warships and feeding the data to the sensor operators in Command and Auxiliary Command. Lieutenant Kazakov correlated the data and informed Termaine that Fleet Commander Jakseth was to all appearances obeying Lady Michi’s commands. The Naxids had been building no less than six warships on Termaine’s ring, but none were completed and all had been cast adrift.
Martinez wasn’t asked to kill a few billion people. Instead, in a voice that breathed relief with every syllable, he targeted each of the abandoned ships cast off from the ring, warships and civilian craft both, and sent missiles on their way to destroy them. He divided the missiles equally among the ships of Chenforce so that no one ship’s magazines would be depleted too quickly.
He watched the missile bursts blossom in the display, as the expanding, overlapping spheres of superheated plasma momentarily obscured Termaine and its ring. When the plasma cooled and dissipated, the ring was still there, presumably much to the relief of Fleet Commander Jakseth.
Martinez watched the tactical situation crawl along for another half hour, then called Michi to ask for permission to secure from general quarters. This time he spoke to her personally.
“Permission granted,” she said.
“How is Captain Fletcher?”
“He’s dead. I’ll need you and Lieutenant Kazakov to meet in my office as soon as we secure from quarters.”
“Yes, my lady.” He paused in hopes that Lady Michi would volunteer more information, but once again she remained silent.
“May I ask how the captain died?” he said finally. He was prepared to wager that Fletcher had hanged himself.
Michi’s tone turned resentful. “Fell and hit his head on a corner of his desk, apparently. We don’t know any more than that because we went to quarters soon after the body was discovered. Dr. Xi had the body moved to sick bay and then had to go to quarters himself, so there hasn’t been an examination.”
“Would you like me to make an announcement to the ship’s crew?”
“No. I’ll do that myself. For now, I want to see you in my office.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Michi ended the communication, and Martinez shifted to the channel that enabled him to speak with others in Command.
“Secure from general quarters,” he ordered. “Well done, everyone.”
He took off his helmet and took a breath of air free off the smell of suit seals. As the tone to secure from quarters buzzed through the ship, he unwebbed and stood.
“Who’s normally standing watch at this hour?” he asked.
Chandra pulled the helmet off her head and wiped a bit of sweat off her forehead with a gloved hand. “The premiere, Lord Captain,” she said.
“Lieutenant Kazakov is called elsewhere. If you’re not too tired, Lieutenant Prasad, I’d be obliged if you’d take the premiere’s watch.”
Chandra nodded. “Very good, my lord.”
“Lieutenant Prasad has the watch!” Martinez said, loud enough for anyone to hear.
“I have the watch!” Chandra agreed loudly.
Martinez stalked out of the room. The horsebacked officers on the walls watched with unfriendly, calculating eyes.
“I’m appointing you to commandIllustrious, ” Michi said. “You’re the only captain we’ve got.”
Martinez wished she had phrased it so he didn’t sound so much like a desperate last resort, but the warm, exuberant pleasure of having a command again soon erased any discomfort.
“Yes, my lady,” he said, glowing.
“Give me your captain’s key,” she said. He took his key from the elastic around his neck and handed it to her, and she slipped it into the slot on her desk and tapped codes into the desk.
“Your thumbprint, please?”
Martinez provided it. Michi returned the key to him, and he reattached it to the elastic and tucked it again into his uniform tunic.
“Congratulations, my lord,” said Fulvia Kazakov. She sat next to Martinez, across the desk from the squadcom. Her dark hair was knotted as usual behind her head, but she’d changed hurriedly afterIllustrious secured from quarters, and hadn’t had time to stick the usual pair of inlaid chopsticks through the knot.
“Thank you,” Martinez said, then realized he should try not to beam quite so much. “A shame it had to happen after such a tragedy,” he added.
“Quite,” Michi said. She touched her comm panel. “Is Garcia there yet?”
“Yes, my lady.” The voice of her orderly Vandervalk.
“Send him in.”
Rigger First Class Garcia entered and braced. Under the loose supervision of the military constable officer, Garcia was the head of the ship’s Constabulary, all three of them, and was a youngish man, a little plump, wearing a mustache. He had never been in the flag officer’s office before, at least to judge by the way his eyes kept turning to the ornamental fluted bronzed pillars, the bronze statues of naked Terran women holding baskets of fruit, and the murals filled with poised human figures sharing a landscape with fantastic beasts.
“You’ve finished your investigation?” Michi said.
“I’ve interviewed Captain Fletcher’s staff,” Garcia said. “I wasn’t able to see them all personally, but I was able to speak to them through comm when we were at quarters.”
“Report then.”
Garcia looked at his sleeve display, where he’d obviously stored the particulars. “The captain worked with Warrant Officer Marsden on ship’s business till about 2501 yesterday,” he said. “His orderly, Narbonne, was the last person to see him. He helped the captain undress, took his uniform to be brushed and his shoes to be polished. That was about 2526.”