“Outside airlock door closed,” Eruken said in a near whisper, imitation of Mabumba’s hushed tones. Martinez put his hand over his microphone to keep Ondakaal from overhearing.
“Depressurize and withdraw boarding tube. Warn crew to secure for zero gravity.”
“Yes, Lord Lieutenant.”
“All maneuvering thrusters gimbaled,” Mabumba said. “Pressure at thruster heads nominal.” A warning blast sounded, shrill and sudden, then faded. “Zero gravity warning sounded.”
“If your master weaponer has shown you the fleetcom’s order…” Ondakaal was continuing.
Martinez took his hand from his microphone. “Master Alikhan is bringing the order now,” he told him. “Once I read it, I’m sure there will be no difficulty. Please stand by.”
Ondakaal fell silent, his arms hanging at his sides in an expression of baffled defeat. He had decided to trust that the order from Fanaghee would pry openCorona’s airlock, but his posture suggested he doubted that the order would work its magic.
“Boarding tube withdrawn,” Eruken reported. “Ship is on one hundred percent internal power. Electrical connections withdrawn. Outside connectors sealed.”
Martinez looked at his own displays. The Daimong ships now had Naxid guards on their airlocks, the Daimong guards withdrawn or under arrest. The displays could tell him nothing now that he didn’t already know.
He began reconfiguring his displays for engine start and maneuver.
“Data connectors withdrawn,” Eruken said. “Outside data ports sealed.”
Martinez saw Ondakaal start, then he began an urgent communication with his sleeve display. Martinez couldn’t quite hear the exchange. Then Ondakaal looked up in surprise at the camera above the airlock.
“You have withdrawn air and water connections to your ship!” he said. “What does this mean?”
Martinez permitted himself a tight smile. “I am sealing myself from the station,” he said, “until certain things are explained.”
“You are not authorized!” Ondakaal raged. “You must open your airlock to our inspectors!”
“Please tell me,” Martinez said, “why you want to bring armed personnel onto my ship. You don’t need guns for an inspection, Lieutenant.”
“This is by order of the Fleet Commander! You are not to question her orders!”
“Main engines gimbaled,” Mabumba said. “Gimbal test successful.” Then, “Holding at ten seconds.”
“Launch,” Martinez said.
“Launch?” demanded Ondakaal. “What do you meanlaunch? ”
Martinez cut the Naxid off.
“Engines ready to fire on command,” said Mabumba.
“Clamps withdrawn,” Eruken said. “Magnetic grapples released.”
Coronawas berthed nose-in to the outer rim of Magaria’s outer accelerator ring, which was rotating at nine times the speed of the planet below. The rotation of the ring supplied the centrifugal force that provided gravity to the ship. In order to unberth, the ship didn’t need to fire maneuvering thrusters, it merely had to ungrapple and allow the release of centripetal force to hurl the frigate into space.
Which meant that the ship’s apparent gravity was gone. Martinez’s first indication thatCorona was clear of the station was the fact that he began to float free of his couch and discovered that he’d ignored his own zero-gee warning and failed to strap himself in. He busied himself with his harness.
The gimbaled acceleration cages creaked slightly as the weight came off them. “Clear of the ring,” Eruken reported. “Clear ofPerigee.” The berths were staggered slightly so thatCorona wouldn’t be swatted out of the sky by the tail of the next ship moored to the ring, but still it was always a relief to know that the danger was past.
“Pilot, zero our momentum,” Martinez said. He didn’t wantCorona to keep floating out into space, where it would make a perfect slow-moving target. He presumed that the Naxids wouldn’t fire their antimatter missiles, since an antimatter warhead exploding on top ofCorona would vaporize not only the target, but the dockyards, all the moored warships, and a chunk of the accelerator ring. But the point-defense lasers carried by the warships could be used offensively againstCorona, and so could the antiproton beams carried by some of the larger ships. Though the lasers probably weren’t powerful enough to kill the frigate, Martinez wasn’t as confident about the antiproton beams, and any kind of damage might be fatal to his plans.
Defense against the antiproton beams was the strong magnetic field used in any case byCorona to repel radiation. Martinez ordered it turned on, not that it would help against a point-blank strike from one of the enemy beams.
He felt himself nudge gently against his restraining straps, then float free again. Eruken had killedCorona’s residual momentum, and the frigate was now hovering with the ring rotating ahead of its nose.
“Pilot, maneuvering thrusters,” he said. “Take us directly south of the ring.”
Again that nudge against the straps. “Maneuvering due south, my lord.”
Martinez pressed keypads. “Navigation,” he said, “I’m sending you a course plot for Wormhole Four. Please load it into your computers.”
“Ah—yes, my lord.” Diem was looking at his displays a little wild-eyed, and Martinez remembered that he was only a trainee and hadn’t yet certified for Navigator/Second.
With himself, that madetwo inexperienced navigators in Command, Martinez realized. Not a good thing under the circumstances.
Vonderheydte’s voice came from behind Martinez, and Martinez jumped: he’d forgotten someone was back there.
“I’m hearing complaints from the captain’s cook, my lord,” Vonderheydte said. “Low gravity’s making a wreck out of his dinner. He says his sauce anglais is on the ceiling now.”
“Comm, tell the cook to batten everything down and get to an acceleration couch. We’re going to be pulling some gees.” He turned to Eruken. “Pilot, signal crew to secure for hard acceleration.”
Ear-blasting alarms whooped out, wailing up and down the scale. Personnel had been killed for not getting into their acceleration couches in time, and Martinez wanted to give them as much warning as possible.
The alarm faded, leaving a gaping silence in its wake. Diem was looking over the navigation plot with what seemed growing desperation, while Eruken gazed at his controls and gnawed his lip. Mabumba cast a glance over his shoulder at Martinez, and his gaze seemed to center on the pistol that lay near-weightless against his thigh.
None of them, Martinez realized, knew what was going on. Nor did anyone else on the ship.
“Comm: general announcement,” he said, and when he spoke again he heard his own voice echo back to him from the ship’s public address system.
“This is Lieutenant Martinez in Command,” he said. “I regret to tell you that a few minutes ago there was a mutiny on Magaria’s ring. The mutineers took advantage of the absence of so many of the officers and crews on the Festival of Sport, and they boarded and seized most of the ships on the station.” Martinez licked his lips. “Probably all ships, aside from our own. It is now our duty to takeCorona to Zanshaa in order to alert the Fleet and the government to the danger presented by the mutiny, and to aid the Fleet in recapturing the lost ships.”
Well, Martinez thought, that took care of the facts. But somehow he felt the deep inadequacy of his words. A reallygreat leader, he thought, would make an inspiring speech at this point, would fire the crew to their utmost exertions and win their undying loyalty through the eloquence of his words. He wondered if he, Gareth Martinez, could ever be such a leader.
What the hell, he thought. It seemed worth finding out.
“One further thought,” he said. “Because the rebels have seized control of Magaria’s ring, they are now in a position to bring overwhelming power onto the planet below. We must therefore consider that Captain Tarafah and the rest of the crew are lost, and can only hope that their captors will treat them decently…”