Martinez hid a smile. Of course, he said. Laredans are renowned for their independence, both of thought and of character.

  Ah, I wondered. Because, you know PJ frowned. I hardly ever see her. Sempronia, I mean. Formal occasions, yes, and she gives me a kiss on the cheek and& His voice trailed away, then he resumed. But she has her own friends, and she spends time with them, and I never& He tried again. Shes in school, of course, and she says she wants to enjoy her school friends while she can. And I cant object to that, because Ive had my friends over the years, and& His brows knit in puzzlement. But so many of her friends are officers. And theyre not in school.

  For a moment Martinez almost felt a breath of sorrow for PJ Ngeni. And then he remembered who he was talking to, and his sorrow blew away like cherry blossoms in the spring.

  I think you should just have patience, he said. Sempronias the pet of the family, and shes used to having her own way. He gave PJs arm a consoling pat. Shell grow to appreciate your virtues in time, he said. And as for the officerswell, Im sure she just wants to take advantage of their company before they go off to war.

  Hmm. These thoughts processed their way across PJs face. Well. I suppose.

  Martinez found out more about at least one of the officers the next morning, after breakfast. He was packing his night case, preparing to leave for a meeting called by his new squadron commander, Captain Farfang of Destiny, when he heard a tentative knock on his door.

  Yes?

  Its me. Sempronias voice, muffled by a thumbs length of Shelley Palace teak.

  Come in.

  Sempronia, her expression tentative, swung the thick door inward and entered. She saw him in his unbuttoned tunic, and walked up to work the silver tunic buttons, her teeth resting lightly on her lower lip and her hazel eyes comically crossed as she concentrated on the work. She finished the last button, straightened the collar, then stepped back to survey the result.

  Thank you, Martinez said.

  Youre welcome. She crossed her arms and frowned at him. He went to his dressing table and took from it the gold disk on a ribbon that he could wear if he wasnt going to lug the Golden Orb about.

  You arent going to carry the orb with you?

  Martinez placed the disk about his neck. To carry the orb on anything other than a formal occasion would be conceit.

  But Gareth, Sempronia protested, you are conceited.

  Martinez decided that the higher wisdom lay in not answering this charge. He turned to her. And the reason you came here, Proney&?

  Oh. She hesitated. I wanted to talk to you about one of your officers.

  One of my officers?

  Nikkul Shankaracharya.

  Ah. This would be his second officer, whom he had met just two days before, and with whom hed exchanged perhaps three dozen words. A sublieutenant of less than six months seniority, with a faint little mustache and a hesitant manner. At the first meeting, Shankaracharya had made little impression, though Martinez had a strong sense that this one, perhaps, would take a lot of work.

  A friend of yours, is he? Martinez asked.

  A faint rose color brightened Sempronias cheeks. Yes. I was hoping that you could, well, look after him.

  Thats my job, Martinez said. But is Shankaracharya likely to need much looking after?

  Sempronias flush deepened. I think hes very talented. But hes shy, and he doesnt put himself forward. Youre likely to trample him into the deck without even noticing hes there.

  Well, I promise not to trample him into the deck. He cast his mind back, uncovered a memory of Sempronia talking to a dark-haired officer at the familys reception for Caroline Sula.

  Her eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next. He admires you very much. He pulled strings through his patron Lord Pezzini to get aboard Corona. Her lips twisted into an S shape. Of course, he doesnt know you like I do.

  Martinez approached Sempronia, reached out a hand and lifted her chin, so he could see her eyes at rest. Is Shankaracharya very important, Proney? he asked.

  Her lips thinned to a line and she nodded. He kissed her forehead.

  Very well, then, he said. Ill do my best for him.

  Her arms went around him briefly in a fierce hug. Right, then, she said. If you look after Nikkul, I might forgive you for PJ.

  She dashed from his room then, and he finished packing and called for the servants to carry his gear to the cab that would take him to the maglev station. Alikhan wasnt availableMartinez liked to think he was looking after Corona in his absence. He threw his winter overcoat over one arm, took the Golden Orb in its traveling case, marched down the broad staircase to the foyer, and said good-bye to his family.

  Outside, snow glittered white beneath Zanshaas dark green sky. The antimatter ring arced overhead, with its dockyards and the improvised squadron of which Corona was a part. The squadron would leave tomorrow, on special duty. Martinez didnt know where they were bound, knew only that they wouldnt be made a part of the Home Fleet, because they had been assigned to the Lai-own Do-faqs command, and not Jarlaths. He assumed there would be many long days of acceleration before he found out, unless Captain Farfang chose to inform his captains at the days meeting.

  But it turned out that Captain Farfang couldnt tell him anything, because he was dead.

  Destiny was finishing its conversion from a Naxid ship to one crewed by Torminel. This from Dalkieth, his middle-aged senior lieutenant. Her excited voice was high-pitched yet soft, almost lisping, a childs voice that contrasted with her lined face. Work was completed on the crew quarters last, so the hardshells had been bunking on the station and only came aboard last night to make final adjustments to the ships environment. And you know that Torminel prefer a lower temperature than Naxids, because of the fur.

  So it wasnt sabotage?

  If it was, the saboteur was on the crew and died with everyone else. Because when they programmed the new temperatures, someone lost a decimal point somewhere, and Destinys environment was cooled to one-tenth what it should be.

  Martinez was puzzled. But the temperature change should have been gradual enough toOh.

  Yes, Dalkieth said. Torminel have a hibernation reflex. When it gets cold, they just go into a deeper sleep. But even hibernation doesnt preserve them against an environment below freezing.

  Martinez shivered. All of them died?

  All of them. A hundred and twenty-something, dead in their racks.

  And the guard on the airlock?

  Destiny wasnt going to be in commission till today. Guards were provided by the Office of the Constabulary, not the ship itself. No one went in or out of Destiny till early this morning.

  When they found ice coating the walls, and frozen Torminel with frost glittering in their fur. Martinez wanted to lean back in his chair and marvel in awe at the horrific, whimsical blow of fate that had deprived the squadron of both its heaviest ship and its commander. But there was too much to do: two-thirds of his crew were strangers, a figure that included the officers. So far as he knew, Corona and its squadron would still leave the station tomorrow.

  Whos in command of the squadron? he asked.

  Kamarullah is the senior captain. Nothing officials been said, though.

  He rose from behind his office desk, conscious of the football trophies that were still bolted to the wall behind him. Tarafahs suite had at last been reassembled, and hed been moved into it, after insisting on triple-strength locks and bolts on the liquor store.

  Right, he said, department inspections at 2601.

  Very good, Lord Elcap.

  He carried the Golden Orb on his inspectionnot the one the Convocation had presented him the day before, but the cruder version that Maheshwari and Alikhan had made in the frigates machine shop. If the crew drew the conclusion that he appreciated their gift more than that of the Convocation, he would not be disappointed.

  The results of the inspection were a little better than he expected, but hed only completed half of it when Vonderheydte informed him that an urgent, private communication had been received from Squadron Commander Do-faq. Martinez dismissed the crouchbacks, including those he hadnt yet inspected, and took the communication in his office.

  Junior Squadron Commander Do-faq commanded the Lai-own cruiser squadron that had been heading toward Zanshaa from Preowin since the rebellion. Hollow Lai-own bones couldnt stand much more than two gravities acceleration, and hed been accelerating the whole way. Now that Do-faq bad arrived at Zanshaa, he wasnt about to slow down: hed continue a wide, eccentric circuit of the system until shooting off toward whatever wormhole the Fleet had assigned him, and in the meantime hed command his light squadron, which included Corona, via remote control.

  How Do-faq was going to coordinate his squadrons if he ever had to fight was an open question, given their wildly different performance characteristics. But then, Lai-owns were supposed to be diabolically subtle tacticians, as their performance in the Lai-own War had shown, and Martinez told himself it wasnt his job to worry about it anyway.

  Martinez used his captains key to decode the squadron commanders message, which had crossed the six light-minutes that separated Zanshaa from the Lai-own squadron. When the picture resolved on the display, he saw that Do-faq was a youngish Lai-own for his post, as demonstrated by the dark featherlike hair on the sides of his flat-topped head, the hair that Lai-owns lost on full maturity. His wide-set eyes were golden, and his broad mouth, lined with peg teeth, was set in the weary lines that spoke of nearly thirty days of continual acceleration.

  Lord Captain Martinez, he said. Allow me to congratulate you on your promotion and your receipt of the Golden Orb. I hope to have the honor of meeting you in person one day, should the constraints of the service ever permit it.

  Martinez found himself warmed by these civilities. It was always pleasing to discover that your superior officers had a good opinion of you and were willing to say so. He was more accustomed to his superiors pretending that he didnt exist.

  Do-faq slid nictating membranes over his eyes. The loss of Destiny has forced me to a number of painful decisions, among them, the reluctant conclusion that Lord Captain Kamarullah is unsuited for command of the squadron.

  Martinez stared at the screen in complete surprise, and touched the control key. Page crew Alikhan to the captains office.

  Do-faq continued, his voice weary. The other captains senior to you would, I am certain, be suitable enough for the task. But they lack combat experiencewe all lack such experience. All but you.

  The nictating membranes slid away from Do-faqs eyes, and Martinez found himself staring into the lord commanders brilliant gold eyes.

  I am willing to appoint you to command the light squadron, Lord Captain Martinez, Do-faq said. I realize that you may consider this an undue burden, considering the problems you must be facing in Corona now, with so many new crew and with the other difficulties of a new command. You may decline the appointment without prejudice&

  Martinez paused the message as he heard a knock on the door. He told Alikhan to come in, and as his orderly entered, said, Whats between Do-faq and Kamarullah?

  Alikhan paused for a moment, then silently slid the door shut behind him. That would date from the maneuvers back in seventy-three, my lord, he said. There was a misunderstanding of an order that led to the maneuver being spoiled. The Fleet blamed Do-faq, and Do-faq blamed Kamarullah, who was tactical officer on the Glory at the time.

  And now Im in the middle,Martinez thought. The thought failed to depress him.

  Nor did the thought of his new and untried crew, the officers he didnt know, the prospect of captains angry at being passed over, and the certain wrath of Kamarullah. He felt instead the onset of exhilaration, the tingle of blood and mind as he began to grapple with the challenges implied by Do-faqs offer.

  Thank you, Alikhan, he said. And after Alikhan left, he told the comm board, Reply, personal to Squadron Commander Do-faq, and pressed the cipher key.

  The light came on that showed he was being recorded, and he gazed into the camera with a face that he hoped broadcast sincerity.

  Though I fear youre giving me far too much credit, he said, I am nevertheless honored to accept the appointment. I and the squadron will await your orders.

  He had almost said my squadron, but had stopped himself at the last second.

  That, he decided, would be conceit.

  The next call came from Lieutenant Captain Kamarullah. He had a squarish face, a mustache, and the graying temples that suggested Do-faqs wrath must have genuinely harmed his careerlieutenant captains were generally promoted well before their hair had a chance to go gray.

  You could refuse the command, Kamarullah said.

  Im sorry, Captain, Martinez said, but you know that Do-faq would just appoint someone else.

  You could all refuse, Kamarullah urged. If the squadron stood united against him, hed have no choice.

  I regret the situation, Martinez said, but Ive accepted the lord commanders offer.

  Kamarullahs lips twisted. Regret, he repeated. No doubt.

  Martinez looked at the man coldly. Captains breakfast meeting on Corona at 0601, he said. You may bring your senior lieutenant.

  Hed get the Golden Orb out of its box, he thought, the real one, to demonstrate his authority.

  And if that didnt work, hed use it to clout Kamarullah on the head.

  Two hours before his breakfast meeting, Martinez was awakened by a messenger who had his sealed orders from the Fleet Control Board. He put on his dressing gown, signed for the orders, broke the seal, and read his squadrons destination.

  Hone-bar. Do-faq was taking two squadrons to Hone-bar, over a month away. That would give him time to work up his ship and his squadron, to have both ready by the time they all arrived.

  He paged his steward and ordered coffee.

  And then he began to make plans.

  The Home Fleet continued its colossal acceleration runs, making circuits of Zanshaa and Vandrith, then swinging wider still to include other planets and Shaamah, the systems sun. It was joined by the Daimong squadron from Zerafan, which was already at speed when it arrived, and was integrated with Jarlaths forces without trouble.

  Do-faqs Lai-own squadron from Preowin arrived, which would serve to protect the capital while the Home Fleet was away. After a month of punishing accelerations mixed with planning sessions with his staff and (by video) with his captains, after endless simulations of the attack, Jarlath no longer even considered holding his armed avengers back. The thought that all the work and pain might go for nothing was too outrageous to contemplate. He asked permission to attack Magaria, and permission was gladly given.

  Forty-four days after departing Zanshaa, traveling at .56c, the Home Fleet swung around Vandrith for the last time and headed for Zanshaa Wormhole 3 en route to Magaria. It would continue accelerating all the way and should be traveling in excess of .7c when it first slammed into Fanaghees fleet.

  Jarlath was weary and in pain, but content with his plans. He knew he was in for a hard fight, but all doubts were gone, and he knew that victory would be his.

  What he and everyone else privy to his intentions failed to realize was that the Home Fleets plans counted upon the enemy making mistakes, or having suffered critical personnel or equipment losses, or of being unable to fully crew or refit their ships.

  All these were dangerous assumptions to make, particularly when one remembered that the Naxids had been planning their rebellion for a long, long time.

  Fanaghee had done well with the time shed been allotted. Martinezs near-miss with his missile had hit her hard, but not fatally. The electromagnetic pulse from the explosion had raced through the communications net on the ring station and slagged it. All ships but Ferogash had been in their berths and connected via cables to station communications, and the EMP had burned along the cables and blown the ships comm rigs too.

  The military communications net was supposed to be hardened against such an attack, and the stationhad been hardened when it was built. But centuries of maintenance shortcuts had bypassed many of the safeguards, and the results left the Naxid command literally speechless.

  The secure design of Ring Command had been compromised more recently, in a retrofit that left a coolant pipe connected to the outside without proper safeguards against flash. Though Ring Command was surrounded by slabs of radiation shielding that should have kept everyone safe, the coolant reservoir and radiator was outside Command proper, and had no defenses against the wall of neutrons and energetic gamma rays generated by Martinezs antimatter missile. The coolant was instantly vaporized, flashed into Ring Command, and scalded to death every person present, including Senior Captain Deghbal. The catastrophe was discovered many hours later, when Naxid personnel, unable to raise Ring Command after they had repaired their own comm systems, broke into the hardened facility and discovered Deghbal and her crew sprawled where the erupting poison had caught them.

  This was the worst of it, however. The station was on alert, all essential personnel were in hardened shelters either on the station or aboard ship, and none of the other shelters were subject to the same design errors that made Ring Command vulnerable. The radiation casualties consisted of a few stray civilians, prisoners from the captured vessels who had been herded to the base skyhook and were awaiting transport to the surface, and their guards.Ferogash lost its sensors but not its communications, though since there was no one to answer, its messages soon took on a plaintive cast.

  Fanaghee herself suffered nothing more than humiliation. She was in a skyhook car racing from the planet to the ring when its controls were knocked out, stranding her without communication in Magarias troposphere for eleven hours.

  But communication among the rest of her fleet was restored within hours. Within days the three ships charted by Premiere Axiom of Naxas docked at the ring station, disgorging hundreds of Naxid personnel to crew the captured vessels. They tended to be young and relatively inexperienced, or seniors drafted out of retirement, and had been told only hours earlier that they now served not the Commandery or the Convocation, but the Committee for the Salvation of the Praxis.