Oblivion was a glorious release.
He fought his way to consciousness moments later. Michi’s voice rang in his ears.
“All ships fire by salvo!”
Martinez tried to speak around what seemed to be a felt-covered rubber ball in his mouth.
“Weapons, did you receive that? Fire by salvo.”
Husayn didn’t reply. He was probably still unconscious. Martinez was stumbling through the sequence of oral commands that would give him command of the weapons computer when he heard Husayn’s muzzy voice.
“Never mind, Lord Captain, I’ve got that.” There was a pause. “Missiles away.”
Illustriouswas still inside a plasma fireball, though the fireball was thinning and cooling. Martinez returned his attention to the radiation counter. The pulses were small and therefore distant. Hull temperature was beginning to drop.
Radars and ranging lasers lashed out into the radio murk. The images of a few ships nearby resolved out of the gamma ray haze, other survivors of Cruiser Squadron 9.
Three, Martinez counted, four. Five if you countedIllustrious.
A few minutes earlier they had been nine.
“All ships fire by salvo.” It was Chandra’s voice this time. Presumably she’d just regained consciousness.
Another salvo was fired at the enemy they couldn’t see. Martinez wished he could link his sensors with those of the two observation pinnaces.
The plasma fog was cooling and dispersing rapidly. A ship appeared, vaguely, ahead, proving there had been at least one survivor of Tork’s Daimong squadron. Ahead of the single Daimong ship, Martinez could see the flares of missile explosions. There were many more explosions behind.
And then, within the space of a few seconds, the plasma surrounding the ship dispersed to the point where the ship’s sensors were suddenly able to receive data from one end of the fleet to the other.
Martinez looked at first for the enemy squadron he had been engaging, and saw nothing but the flights of missiles he had just sent at them. He supposed the Naxids were still concealed by cooling plasma bursts.
At least no missiles seemed to be heading in his direction.
Astern, opposing squadrons were still smashing at each other. Ahead, one more Daimong cruiser had materialized, and this one was tentatively identified by the computer as theJudge Urhug, Tork’s flagship. At any rate, it was maintainingUrhug ‘s course.
Farther ahead a battle blazed against the brightness of Magaria’s sun. Martinez saw ships whirling around the action in a series of irregular curves, and his heart gave a shout as he realized that Sula’s squadron was still fighting, still deploying the new tactical system.
She had destroyed the squadron she’d first engaged, apparently, and then decelerated to attack the next enemy squadron from its unengaged flank, the classic doubling maneuver that the rearmost squadrons had failed to accomplish. After destroying the second group of enemy, Sula and the second loyalist squadron were now dropping back to engage a third enemy force.
He could see at least five of Sula’s ships, and their pattern of movement implied that there were more survivors that he couldn’t detect. A song of relief caroled through his heart at the realization that Sula was almost certainly alive.
“My lord,” said Choy. “Message from Pinnace Three.‘Attack successful. Enemy destroyed. Request orders.’”
Martinez looked in surprise at the space that had been occupied by the enemy squadron. Even though the plasma bursts had thinned, no enemy ships had appeared. It appeared thatIllustrious had just fired a series of missile barrages at enemies that had already been vaporized.
A burst of cold satisfaction raced through him. “Order Pinnace Three to return to the ship,” he said. “Weapons, direct all remaining missiles to attack the enemy next astern. Engines, reduce acceleration to one-half gravity.”
Relief akin to euphoria flowed through his sinews as the great pressure of eight gravities eased. The hull gave a series of cracks and shudders as if it were flexing vast limbs. Martinez pressed the touchpad that would connect him with Chandra.
“Request permission to decelerate and double the enemy next astern.”
Chandra’s answer was swift. “We’ve only got twenty-two minutes to our nearest approach to the sun,” she said. “We’ll have to wait till after our slingshot.”
Martinez looked in surprise at the display and saw that she was right. He’d been paying so much attention to the battle that the range to Magarmah had escaped him. Hours had gone by since the first Naxid squadron fired its initial flight of missiles, and meanwhile the sun had been growing closer.
“All ships to form on the flag,” Chandra said, this time over the general broadcast channel. “Illustrious,here’s your course.”
The cruiser altered its heading to bring it onto the course Tork had ordered for the fleet after the solar passage. Three other survivors of the battle took station nearIllustrious, each keeping a wary distance from the flagship and each other in order to avoid getting fried by the other ship’s blazing antimatter tails. The last survivor did not acknowledge any of Michi’s transmissions, but shaped its own course for the solar approach. It was unable to communicate though it was clearly under command, and it probably hadn’t received Michi’s order. The other ships stayed clear lest it do something unexpected.
Judge Urhuggave no orders and did not alter its course. Its engines were unlit, and as a result Squadron 9 was slowly closing on it. Martinez wondered if Tork’s cruiser was a ship of the dead.
Ahead ofUrhug there was a ferocious blaze of action and then silence. Sula’s squadron broke its formation and began heavy accelerations to line up for the passage across Magarmah.
If they had left any Naxids alive, the enemy was hidden by expanding plasma bursts.
Engines roared andIllustrious quaked as Squadron 9 burned around Magarmah. Martinez clenched his teeth in the face of high gravity and managed to hold onto consciousness.Illustrious maintained heavy thrust for another four minutes after the passage, to shape its course for Magaria, and Martinez looked ahead.
There were nothing but friendly ships between Squadron 9 and Magaria. Sula’s Squadron 17 was already dispersing again into its whirling formation and decelerating to engage the enemy. Martinez counted seven ships remaining in her squadron, and fourteen in the other friendly squadrons ahead.
Judge Urhughadn’t fired its engines during the solar bypass, and so hadn’t shaped the course that Tork himself had ordered for the fleet. The flagship was flying by itself toward the interstellar void.
“Prepare to decelerate,” came Chandra’s voice on the all-ship channel. “We will double the enemy squadron to our rear.”
Martinez hung weightless asIllustrious rotated to its new heading. He could only imagine what was happening on the other side of Magarmah as the two fleets approached the same point. Annihilating flights of missiles would be fired at point-blank range, as much a danger to the aggressor as the target. Possibly on account of the danger, they’d stop shooting missiles entirely, but that didn’t mean they were through fighting. As the opposing squadrons fell into line ahead and astern of one another, they would be close enough to begin deploying their antiproton beams as offensive weapons, and cause the same kind of carnage that Harzapid had seen on the first day of the mutiny. The opposing forces would roar around the sun shooting great chunks out of each other, and if they didn’t separate sufficiently after the transit, they’d just keep on shooting.
Martinez was at a loss as to how he’d be able to aid friendly ships if that were the case. He might not be able to fire missiles for fear of hitting his own side.
“Decelerate on my mark, at three gravities,” Chandra said. “Five, four, three, two, one, mark.”
Deceleration kicked Martinez in the spine. He saw that most of the other survivors began decelerating at the same moment-all but Sula’s, which had been decelerating all along-and he wondered if Michi was the senior surviving officer and had given them
all an order.
Two ships didn’t decelerate. One was the cruiser that had been unable to communicate, which plodded along on its preset course, and the other a ship farther up the line, which might be in the same condition.
Martinez saw specks whirl around the sun, their torches flaring to bring them on track for Magaria. It was impossible to tell whether they were loyalist or Naxid, and Michi transmitted a demand that they identify themselves.
The reply flashed back at the speed of light. The new arrivals were Cruiser Squadron 20, five ships that remained of the ten that had started the battle.
The sun spat out another line of ships, tiny bright seeds flying across the darkness. They were on a different heading from the loyalist squadrons and therefore presumed to be enemy.
“All ships fire by salvo,” Chandra said. “No-wait. Stand by.”
The new arrivals’ course was peculiar. They weren’t racing after the loyalists, and they weren’t shaping a course to get between the loyalists and Magaria. In fact they didn’t seem to be heading anywhere in particular, and were soaring more or less into empty space.
No, Martinez realized. Not quite empty…
He stabbed the virtual button to send a message to Chandra.
“They’re running!”he said. “They’re heading for Wormhole Five.”
Which, he recalled, would eventually take them to the Naxid home world of Naxas.
“We’ve got to go after them!” he told Chandra. “The enemy fleetis the rebellion now. Magaria is nothing without them.”
“Fire by salvo,” Chandra said. “Stand by for course correction.”
Missiles were already being launched by the enemy squadron and by the remains of Squadron 20. It was very close range, and soon the space between them was filled with detonations.
Another squadron flung itself around Magaria’s sun, on track for Wormhole 5. They were already shedding missiles aimed at Cruiser Squadron 20.
“Turn to course zero-six-zero by zero-zero-one relative,” Chandra said. “Accelerate to six gravities, beginning at sixteen forty-one and one.”
“Engines, cut engines,” Martinez told Mersenne. “Pilot, do you have the new heading?”
“Yes, my lord.”
The loyalists began their pursuit of the fleeing enemy, gravity piling on their bones. The next two formations to pass the sun were loyalist, already engaged with the Naxid squadron astern of them. Antimatter burned and boiled in the space between ships.
Not all of the ships passed the sun intact. Two flew off on the trail ofJudge Urhug, unable to make use of their engines. It was unclear whether they were friendly or Naxid. Others fell into the wake of the loyalist squadrons, but reported too much damage to continue the engagement with the enemy.
If the Naxids had similar problems, they were silent about it.
More ships were flung out of the sun’s gravity well. Enemy squadrons vanished behind clouds of raging plasma. The radiation detector spiked as missiles reached fuel stores. The Naxids increased acceleration, and Michi did as well.Illustrious groaned to the increase in gravities. Martinez panted for breath against the leaden giant that squatted on his chest. Michi’s ships fired one salvo after another. Ships reported that their magazines were beginning to run low.
Eventually Michi called off the pursuit. The opposing forces had become too separated in their slingshot around the sun-those extra four minutes of thrust had thrown the loyalists too far away. The Naxids could keep their distance by matching Michi’s acceleration.
“Is Lady Michi the senior officer surviving?” Martinez asked Chandra.
“She must be,” Chandra answered. “Everyone’s following her orders.”
Martinez scanned the display, adding up the ships. The Orthodox Fleet had come into the battle with eighty-seven ships, and something like forty had survived-the exact number depended on how many of the three silent, uncontrolled ships now drifting for the void belonged to the loyalist fleet.
The Naxids had started with seventy-two warships, and thirty were now making their escape.
Ships on both sides were damaged, but at the moment it was impossible to say how many, or how badly.
What seemed clear was that combat had taken a heavy toll of flag officers. Tork’s ship was silent and drifting. Kringan’sJudge Kasapa hadn’t survived, unless it was another one of the ship-sized flotsam on course for nowhere. The third in command, Acting Junior Fleet Commander Laswip, had died with his ship.
That put Michi very definitely in charge.
“Captain Martinez.” Michi’s brusque voice rang in his head. “I’ll need you in my quarters at once.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Martinez let the virtual display fade and blinked as the control room swam into his vision for the first time in hours. Ancient Terran officers on horseback gazed sternly at him from the walls, and below the feet of their horses the displays glowed in colors that seemed dull compared to the brilliance of the virtual world.
“Comm,” Martinez said, “get me the premiere.”
When Kazakov answered, Martinez told her she was in command ofIllustrious while he was in conference.
“Yes, my lord.” She hesitated. “Congratulations, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
He unwebbed and swung forward to plant his feet on the deck, then wrenched off his helmet for a breath of somewhat freer air. While he still had the microphone on, he addressed the crew in Command.
“Well done, people. Take a breather and a stretch, but don’t go far. I’ll try to have food brought to you.”
As he stood, they turned to him, wheeling around in their acceleration cages. Mersenne raised his gloved hands and began to applaud. The others echoed him, the sound muffled by the vac suit fabric. Martinez grinned.
Hehad done rather well, he thought, considering his superiors’ mistakes.
He thanked them, then stripped off the cap that held his headphones, microphone, virtual projection net, and the diagnostic sensors that read his vital signs.
Michi had saidat once. He supposed he didn’t have time to change out of his suit.
Helmet under his arm, he left Command and trudged down the companionway to officers’ quarters. Michi, Chandra, Li, and Coen were grouped around Michi’s dining room, all bulky in their vac suits. Michi and Chandra were gazing at a wall display, the aides at datapads. Martinez entered and braced.
“Come in,” Michi said, her eyes intent on the wall display, and then she turned to him.
“I intend to pursue the enemy,” she said, “and finish them off once and for all.”
“Yes, my lady,” Martinez said.
Good idea,he thought.
THIRTY-THREE
“I’ve ordered all squadron commanders to give a complete report on the status of their ships,” Michi said. “If we can build a large enough force, I’m going to swing around the far side of Magaria and head right for Wormhole Five on the tail of the enemy.”
A sense of pure satisfaction sang like a Daimong chorus in Martinez’s head.
“Yes, my lady,” he said.
“You were right when you told Chandra that the Naxid fleetis the rebellion,” Michi said. “Kill their ships, and the war dies.” She returned her attention to the screen. “Yes, my lord,” she said. “Continue.”
“Compliancehas frames broken, two bulkheads breached, and two missile batteries severely damaged by heat,” reported the captain of theConformance. “I doubt it’ll be able to pull heavy gravities, and though a well-equipped dock might save her, it might be easier in the end to scrap the ship and build a new one.Submission has suffered hull breach in two places and the death of sixty-odd crew, but reports the hull damage is repairable and that repairs are ongoing. The captain reports the ship as ready for battle, though half of one missile battery has been permanently slagged.Conformance has suffered superficial damage, and is ready to continue the fight now, though our magazines are at two-fifths full strength.”
“Don’t worr
y about missiles,” Michi said. “We’ll get you more. Thank you, Lord Captain.”
Don’t worry about missiles. That was interesting. Perhaps Michi intended the damaged ships to donate their unfired missiles to those about to go in pursuit of the Naxids.
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.
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