Nowthat, he had to admit, was fair.
Martinez glowed, however, when he read Enderby’s final testament, in which he requested that the Fleet Control Board promote Martinez as soon as a suitable command became vacant. The old manhad liked him, had done his best to assure that he’d be promoted…in the fullness oftime.Perhaps even the transfer to the Second Fleet aboardCorona was aimed at assisting his chances: vacancies tended to occur more often on the more remote stations. In charity with all the universe, Martinez decided this had to be true.
The glow of pleasure that accompanied this discovery accompanied him through his first few days of command.
On the seventh day he decided the crew’s vacation was over. He kicked the acceleration up to a full gravity and started a regular series of inspections, each of the ship’s departments in turn. He assigned punishments to Zhou, Ahmet, and Knadjian, the ship’s bad lads—they were to repair all the damage that had been done to the quarters of the captain and the premier lieutenant. As the rooms had been comprehensively destroyed during the search for the command keys, the repairs would take at least till the end of the voyage—and of course he made them stand regular watches as well, so the repair jobs came out of what otherwise would have been their free time. He put Saavedra, the captain’s secretary, in charge of the three for this act of rehabilitation, because he knew that the precise and exacting Saavedra was exactly the sort of person whose fastidious ways would most annoy the malefactors.
A few days into the new regime, he was informed that the Convocation had awarded him the Golden Orb. Alikhan and Maheshwari slipped away for a few hours to the frigate’s machine shop, and at dinner that afternoon made Martinez a presentation.
Martinez had seen a Golden Orb in the Hall of Honor of the Fleet Museum in Zanshaa’s Lower Town: an ornate baton on top of which was mounted a transparent sphere filled with a dense golden liquid that swirled and eddied in reaction to motion, even the motion of a cadet walking past the display. The patterns inside the sphere were fascinating, intricate, the cloud swirls of a gas giant in miniature, patterns wrapped inside patterns clothed inside patterns, an infinite regression of fractals.
The thing about the orb that had most impressed Martinez, however, was that superior officers—evenconvocates — had to brace and salute a Golden Orb when its recipient walked past.That was the sort of power he suspected he could use, abuse, and enjoy.
“We wished to present this to you, in thanks for saving us and for saving the ship.” So said Maheshwari, offering their homemade orb on an overstuffed pillow. This wasn’t the ornate, magical orb that Martinez had seen in the Fleet museum, but a plain plated sphere atop a plated stick, but even so, he felt a surge of delight as the crew stood and broke into applause.
“I believe it is customary to make a speech on such an occasion, my lord,” Alikhan said, with a disturbingly serene smile that Martinez suspected hid the sadistic impulse beneath.
So Martinez stood and made a speech, at first barely knowing what he was saying. He expressed thanks to the crew for their generous and thoughtful presentation. He told them that even if the genuine article were presented to him by the Convocation in full assembly, it wouldn’t mean as much as this. He thanked them also for following his orders when he, a rational being, might have concluded he was mad.
“Wedid think you were mad, my lord,” called out Dietrich. “But then you had that great big pistol, didn’t you?”
There was laughter at that. “Well,” Martinez said lamely, “if you can’t respect the officer, at least respect his gun.”
More laughter. It was an easy audience, fortunately.
Martinez decided it was time for the compliment direct. He spoke more largely on the qualities of a fighting crew, of which his experience was no less theoretical than his audience, but which he made out to be courage, talent, perseverance, and determination in the face of overwhelming odds and near certain death. He implied that the crew ofCorona possessed these qualities in abundance. He said that he could never have achieved anything without the crew’s support, that he would never forget any of them, and that he was proud to call them all his shipmates. “Evenyou, ” he told Ahmet, to general laughter.
He finished by saying that he hopedCorona’s crew could stay together long enough to see the end of the war together, that he hoped they would all return to Magaria, drive the Naxid rebels from the station, and liberate their captain and the other Coronas.
There was more applause as he returned to his seat, and then turned to Alikhan and ordered the spirit locker store opened again, so everyone could toast the return to Magaria.
The next day, Martinez received word that he had been promoted to lieutenant captain and givenCorona. Alikhan acquired shoulder boards from Tarafah’s spare uniforms and put them on one of Martinez’s uniform jackets, which he presented at dinner.
“I believe a speech is customary on these occasions, my lord,” he said, again with his serene, sinister smile.
I’ve alreadysaid everything, Martinez thought, but he had no choice but to stand and say it again. He madeCorona’s crew even more valorous and brilliant than he had the previous afternoon, their dangers more perilous, and the return to Magaria even more glorious. And then, exhausted, he ordered the spirit locker opened.
The next day came word that the Fleet Control Board had awarded him the Medal of Merit, First Class, for his part in the rescue of Captain Blitsharts andMidnight Runner. “It isnot customary to make a speech on these occasions,” he told Alikhan firmly, then ordered the spirit locker opened anyway, to general applause.
Lest anyone feel he was turningCorona into a den of inebriates and slackers, he turned out the whole crew next morning for a muster, inspected their personal quarters, and awarded demerits with a free hand.
Congratulations poured in from family and friends, all relayed by communications laser from the capital. There was a dignified message from Lord Pierre Ngeni, familial greetings from Vipsania, Walpurga, and his brother Roland, a silly video from PJ, and a somewhat warmer greeting from Amanda Taen. Sempronia’s video letter had a different tone. “I was thinking of forgiving you since you turned out to be such a hero,” she said, “but then I had to spend an hour with PJ and I decided against it.” She raised a hand and waved the tips of her fingers. “Good-bye!”
Nothing from Caroline Sula. When no message came he realized that he’d been expecting one, and felt its absence with an impact that surprised him.
As a tonic, Martinez turned his thoughts to patronage. A lieutenant captain was allowed to promote one cadet or warrant officer each year to the rank of sublieutenant. He considered Vonderheydte and Kelly, and realized he didn’t know either one of them well enough to promote them, despite having worked alongside one of them for two months and having been to bed with the other.
Kelly, he realized from a glance at her records, was unsuitable for a lieutenancy. Though she’d shown unexpected talent as a weapons officer,Corona was her first posting, and she needed another year or two of seasoning before she’d be able to handle a lieutenant’s duties.
Vonderheydte was more qualified. He had served as a pilot/navigator and in the engineering division before taking his turn as Martinez’s second in the communications division. When Martinez had been his supervisor, he’d had no complaints against Vonderheydte, and apparently none of his other officers had either. He was eligible to stand for his exams, and was qualified to stand a watch.
Vonderheydte’s only drawback was that he came from a provincial clan, like Martinez, and one from Comador, so it was unlikely that Clan Vonderheydte would ever be able to repay Clan Martinez for the favor done their offspring.