brioche. After this Alikhan began assisting him into his vac suit in preparation for the walk to the Flag Officer Station.
Everyone on the ship knew the hour at which general quarters would be called, and most were now struggling into their vac suits, or would be shortly.
The suit's checked its own systems and displayed the result on its sleeve display: all was well. Martinez took a last sip of coffee, then took his helmet from Alikhan and dismissed him to go to quarters, where he'd don his own suit with the aide of another weaponer.
Martinez clomped down the corridor, awkward in the suit, and dropped down two decks to the Flag Officer Station. Michi was already present, along with her aides Li and Coen. Michi stood with her back to him, her helmet off, her hair tucked into the cap that held her earphones and the projectors of the virtual array. The unfixed chinstrap dangled on her shoulder. Her head was bent, and one hand was pressed over an ear as if to aid herself in hearing.
Even in the bulky suit Martinez could see the tension in her stance. 'Stand by,' she said, and swung around to Martinez, her face a mask of furious calculation. He braced.
'My lady.'
'I need you to take command of Illustrious immediately. Something's happened to Captain Fletcher.'
'Has he…?' Martinez began. Run amuck with a kitchen knife, perhaps? He couldn't seem to find a way to phrase the question tactfully.
Michi's words were clipped and curt, nearly savage. 'There's a report he's dead,' she said. 'Now get to Command and take charge before things to completely to hell.'
Martinez shifted to the channel that allowed him to address everyone in Command, then paused to collect his thoughts. It was difficult to pass on information that he did not himself possess. He decided to keep it simple as possible.
'This is Captain Martinez,' he said. 'I wished to inform you that the lady squadcom instructed me to take command of Illustrious, as Captain Fletcher has been reported ill. I don't know any details, but I'm sure that Captain Fletcher will return to command as soon as circumstances permit.'
Well, he thought as he settled into his couch, that was as bland an announcement as he could possibly imagine. He doubted the curiosity of the watch was in any way softened.
Martinez then called up the tactical display and familiarized himself with the situation: Chenforce on its way to pass by Termaine, the two pinnaces and their squadrons of missiles ahead, Termaine surrounded by a cloud of ships that had been cast off and abandoned. If the enemy commander was preparing any act of defiance, he had yet to launch it.
The day crawled by like an arthritic animal looking for hole to die in. Every so often the icons on the tactical display would move very slightly in one direction or another, and then everything would be still again.
Crewed pinnaces launched by the warships flashed past Termaine, cameras and sensors sweeping the planet's ring for hidden weapons or warships, the data fed to the sensor operators in Command and Auxiliary Command. Lieutenant Kazakov correlated the data and informed Termaine that the enemy were to all appearances obeying Lady Michi's commands. The Naxids had been building no less than six warships on Termaine's ring, but none had been completed and all had been cast adrift.
He watched the missile bursts blossom in the display, as the expanding, overlapping spheres of superheated plasma momentarily obscured Termaine and its ring. When the plasma cooled and dissipated, the ring was still there, presumably to the relief of everyone on the planet or its ring.
Martinez watched the tactical situation crawl along for another half hour, then called Michi to ask for permission to secure from general quarters. This time he spoke to her personally.
'Permission granted,' she said.
'How is Captain Fletcher?'
'He's dead. I'll need you and Lieutenant Kazakov to meet in my office as soon as we secure from quarters.'
'Yes, my lady.' He paused in hopes that Lady Michi would volunteer more information, but once again she remained silent.
'May I ask how the captain died?' he said finally.
He was prepared to wager that Fletcher had hanged himself.
Michi's tone turned resentful. 'Fell and hit his head on a corner of his desk, apparently. We don't know any more than that because we went to quarters soon after the body was discovered. Doctor Xi had the body moved to sick bay, and then had to go to quarters himself, so there hasn't been an examination.'
'Would you like me to make an announcement to the ship's crew?'
'No. I'll do that myself. For now, I want to see you in my office.'
'Very good, my lady.'
Michi ended the communication, and Martinez shifted to the channel that enabled him to speak with others in Command.
'Secure from general quarters,' he ordered. 'Well done, everyone.'
He took off his helmet and took a breath of air free of the smell of suit seals. As the tone to secure from quarters buzzed through the ship, he unwebbed and stood.
'Who's normally standing watch at this hour?' he asked.
Chandra pulled the helmet off her head and wiped a bit of sweat off her forehead with a gloved hand. 'The premiere, lord captain,' she said.
'Lieutenant Kazakov is called elsewhere. If you're not too tired, Lieutenant Prasad, I'd be obliged if you'd take the premiere's watch.'
Chandra nodded. 'Very good, my lord.'
'Lieutenant Prasad has the watch!' Martinez said, loud enough for anyone to hear.
'I have the watch!' Chandra agreed, loudly.
Martinez stalked out of the room. The horsebacked officers on the walls watched with unfriendly, calculating eyes.
'I'm appointing you to command Illustrious,' Michi said. 'You're the only captain we've got.'
Martinez wished she had phrased it so that he didn't sound like so much like a desperate last resort, but the warm, exuberant pleasure of having a command again soon erased any discomfort.
'Yes, my lady,' he said, glowing.
'Congratulations, my lord,' said Fulvia Kazakov. She sat next to Martinez, across the desk from the squadcom. Her dark hair was knotted as usual behind her head, but she'd changed hurriedly after Illustrious secured from quarters, and hadn't had time to stick the usual pair of inlaid chopsticks through the knot.
'Thank you,' Martinez said, and then realized he should try not to beam quite so much. 'A shame it had to happen after such a tragedy,' he added.
'Quite.' Michi said. She touched her comm panel. 'Is Garcia there yet?'
'Yes, my lady.' The voice of her orderly Vandervalk.
'Send him in.'
Rigger First Class Garcia entered and braced. Under the loose supervision of the Military Constable Officer, Garcia was the head of the ship's constabulary, all three of them, and was a youngish man, a little plump, wearing a mustache. He had never been in the flag officer's office before, at least judging by the way his eyes kept turning to the ornamental fluted bronzed pillars, the bronze statues of naked Terran women holding baskets of fruit, and the murals filled with poised human figures sharing a landscape with fantastic beasts.
'You've finished your investigation?' Michi said.
'I've interviewed Captain Fletcher's staff,' Garcia said. 'I wasn't able to see them all personally, but I was able to speak to them through comm when we were at quarters.'
'Report, then.'
Garcia looked at his sleeve display, where he'd obviously stored the particulars. 'The captain worked with Warrant Officer Marsden on ship's business till about 25:01 yesterday,' he said. 'His orderly, Narbonne, was the last person to see him. He helped the captain undress, took his uniform to be brushed and his shoes to be polished.
