He called up the airlock display onto his command board and made certain he had the airlock commands ready.
A glance at the displays showed Naxids boarding at least two more ships of the Daimong squadron.
He looked at the first display, which showed the column moving with the usual Naxid scrambling haste towardCorona. The column slammed to the equally normal abrupt halt in front of the two airlock guards, and the commanding officer braced briefly to acknowledge the guards’ salutes.
Only a lieutenant, Martinez saw. The senior officers were at the games, being seen on camera and maintaining the illusion that all was normal.
“Lieutenant Ondakaal,” the Naxid officer said by way of introduction. “Fleet Commander Fanaghee requires me to go aboard your vessel and conduct an inspection.”
The words came with remarkable clarity over Alikhan’s sleeve comm rig.
“Does the lord lieutenant have a signed order?” Alikhan asked.
“That is hardly necessary.” Arrogance dripped like acid from Ondakaal’s words. “My orders come direct from the Fleet Commander herself.”
“I beg the lord lieutenant’s pardon,” Alikhan said, “butyou aren’t the Fleet Commander, and you’re not in our chain of command. Can you give me a written order that I can show to the officer of the watch?”
Ondakaal’s head bobbed as he scanned Alikhan’s sleeve for badges of rank, and he saw the red hashmarks of seniority and the badge of the master weaponer. “Very well, Master Weaponer,” he said. “If you insist.”
He opened his tunic and produced a letter, which he handed to Alikhan. “As you can see,” he said, demanding arrogance again in his tone, “the fleetcom’s seal is upon the letter.”
“Indeed, my lord,” Alikhan said. “Please wait here with your party while I show this to the officer of the watch.”
Alikhan stepped back and opened the airlock before Ondakaal or his group could react. Martinez could see the Naxids quiver with the impulse to hurl themselves at the open door, but Alikhan slid it shut quickly, and the moment passed.
“Shall I open the letter, my lord?” Alikhan’s voice seemed a little breathless, as if he’d run a long distance rather than just a few steps.
“Yes, by all means.”
Martinez scanned displays and didn’t see a single Daimong ship resisting the Naxid boarders. The entire heavy squadron had fallen to the Naxids without a shot.
Through the camera above the airlock door he could see Ondakaal talking to Dietrich and Hong. Martinez told the display to give him audio as well as video.
“You can see it for yourself!” Ondakaal had grown angry. “Perigeeis letting the inspectors aboard. You may as well stand aside and let us come aboard.”
“I’m afraid not, my lord.”
Martinez wanted to cheer, not at Dietrich’s words but at his upright, broad-shouldered stance, betraying no apology or any suggestion that he would cave to the Naxid’s demands.
“I have very strict orders not to let anyone board without the permission of the officer of the watch,” Dietrich explained.
“You are defying the orders of the Fleet Commander!” Ondakaal said. He brandished an arm, pointing to one side. “You see for yourself thatSteadfast is letting the special inspectors aboard!”
Over another channel, Alikhan was reading the contents of Fanaghee’s order. It seemed genuine enough.
“No need for that,” Martinez told Alikhan. “Stand by for Buena Vista.”
Ondakaal was continuing to hector the guards. Martinez decided he’d better rescue Dietrich and Hong before they were overwhelmed, and he pressed the audio button.
“What is going on out there?” he demanded. “Who the fuck are you, Lieutenant, and why the fuck are you harassing my people?”
At the tone of command, Ondakaal automatically braced into a respectful pose. “I am Lieutenant Ondakaal, my lord,” he said. “I am required by Senior Fleet Commander Fanaghee—”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Martinez continued. “Communications have beencompletely scrambled. I can’t even get a ground line out!”
“My lord, I’m unaware of—”
“The only message I’ve got,” Martinez interrupted, “was ‘Prepare for Buena Vista.’ Can you tell me what that means, ‘Prepare for Buena Vista’?”
Ondakaal’s surprise and uncertainty kept him from observing the electric glance that passed between Hong and Dietrich, the subtle shifts in their stance as they understood his words and prepared to jump backward for the airlock.
“My lord, I’m afraid I don’t know what those words mean,” Ondakaal said. “But if you’ll let our inspectors aboard, I’ll—”
“Buena Vista!” Martinez shouted. “Buena Vista!” And then, over the comm, he heard Alikhan’s voice shouting the words as well.
Dietrich and Hong leaped backward, out of frame. Ondakaal realized what was happening, but too late: he made a lunge forward, followed in an instant by the warrant officers behind him, but apparently Alikhan got the airlock door shut in time, because Ondakaal soon appeared in the camera frame again, and without the two Terran constables.
Martinez decided to take the offensive. If he kept Ondakaal busy, he might keep the Naxid from doing anything effective.
“What the hell wasthat about?” he demanded. “Explain yourself, Lieutenant!”
Martinez was suddenly aware that he was enjoying himself. For once, he wasn’t the provincial in the world of the privileged and self-important, or the junior lieutenant deferring to his superiors. He was playing a part, true, but it wasn’t a part dictated to him by his seniors, it was one he was inventing for himself. He was the only person within a hundred light-years who knew what was going on, and he was playing Ondakaal for a fool.
And while Ondakaal was blustering about the guards’ abrupt withdrawal, Martinez dropped the volume on his outside comm and raised the one on his private channel with Alikhan.
“Alikhan, where are you? Is everyone safe?”
“We are safe, my lord, all three of us. We’ve shut both lock doors and we’re coming down the docking tube elevator.”
“Very good. Once you’re aboard, sealCorona’s own airlock. Dietrich and Hong are to surrender their firearms to you, unrig the central trunk elevator, then report to their action stations. You are to collect the firearms, then perform the special task I assigned you earlier.”
Safebreaking in the first lieutenant’s quarters. A task the nature of which he’d decided should probably not be spoken aloud, not yet.
“Very good, my lord,” Alikhan said.
Martinez turned to Mabumba, who was watching him with awe and surmise, a combination that triggered in Martinez a pleasurable surge of vanity.
“Engines,” he said, “resume countdown.”
Mabumba gave a start on being addressed, then turned to his console. “Countdown resumed,” he said.
Martinez turned to Pilot Second Class Eruken. “Prepare to depressurize and retract the docking tube as soon asCorona’s airlock is shut.”
Eruken busied himself at his console. “Preparing to depressurize and retract docking tube.”
Martinez raised the volume on the outside comm in time to hear Ondakaal again invoke the authority of the Fleet Commander and demand to be let aboard.
“Lord Lieutenant!” Martinez said. “Explain yourself! Why are you trying to break intoCorona’s airlock!”
“You withdrew your guards!” Ondakaal shouted “What is this treachery?”
“Air and water connections withdrawn,” Mabumba reported in a hushed voice, pitched so Ondakaal couldn’t overhear. “Outside vents sealed.”
“I withdrew my guards because of your threatening and abusive behavior,” Martinez said to Ondakaal. “I shall report this to your superior.”
“Fleet Commander Fanaghee has ordered an inspection of your ship,” Ondakaal said.
“Nonsense!” Martinez said. “I’ve heard of no inspection.”
“It’s asurprise inspection,” Ondakaal said. “As I was trying to explain this to your master weaponer—”