The others in the control room exchanged glances, clearly bewildered. At that moment Tracy and Clarke, the two sensor operators, arrived in the sudden silence, and ghosted to their places as if struck by a guilty conscience.
Nervous energy drummed through Martinez. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to be in motion along with his ship. He paged Maheshwari.
“My lord?”
“I wanted you to know that it’s begun.”
Maheshwari nodded. “I heard the alarms, my lord.”
Martinez realized he’d called the master engineer less to alleviate Maheshwari’s nervousness than his own. He had been reaching into the engine room for comfort, for someone who understood, who would make him feel less lonely in his moment of command.
It wasn’t helping. “Keep holding at five minutes,” he said, for lack of anything better. “End transmission.” He then blanked the screen because the first of the computer-guided trains were shooting through the human areas of the ring station.
They didn’t stop. They raced on to the Daimong area, where the most powerful ships were concentrated in the heavy squadron, and then began to slow.
Martinez’s sleeve button gave a quiet chime. He answered, and the sleeve display shifted to show Alikhan.
“The Naxids are moving past, my lord. I’ve counted nine trains.”
“I know that. They’ve jammed or cut all ships’ communications, by the way.”
“Shall we move the guard into the ship, my lord?”
Martinez hesitated, and glanced at his screens. The Naxids were disembarking in the Daimong areas and moving for the Daimong ships in columns thirty or forty strong, officers in the lead. They weren’t deploying in combat formations, or otherwise look as if they were going to shoot down the guards and storm the airlocks.
They hadn’t showed their hand yet. It allmight still have a rational explanation. And Martinez, for all the fear and adrenaline that blazed through his veins, still hoped there was.
“My lord?” Alikhan reminded.
“Not yet,” Martinez decided. “When they approach, stall them. Keep everyone calm. Tell them you’ll have to speak to the officer of the watch and get into the airlock yourself. But don’t come back to the ship, mind the outer hatch instead, and get ready to open it when I signal Buena Vista.”
Now it was Alikhan’s turn to hesitate. “Very well, my lord,” he said finally.
“End transmission,” Martinez said, his eyes riveted to the displays. More trains were loaded in the Naxid areas and sent out, this time to the medium squadron.
The medium squadron, which hadCorona as its smallest ship.
In the Daimong areas, the first Naxid columns had reached the airlocks. Conversations were going on between the airlock guards and the officers leading the columns.
Martinez felt his nerves coil and tense and flare.Resist, he silently urged the Daimong.Keep them off. Resist.
AtBombardment of Kathung, flagship of the heavy squadron, the guards braced, stood aside, and watched as the Naxids swarmed into the airlock.
“No.” The word forced its way past Martinez’s locked throat. “No, keep them out.”
Two more sets of guards, those on either side ofKathung , stood aside as they saw the Naxids enter the flagship.
From the camera aboveCorona’s lock, Martinez saw a train slowing as it prepared to enter the nearest station. The open-topped cars were black with Naxids.
Martinez switched from one camera to the next on the Daimong sections. At least six ships were being boarded. Polite conversations seemed to be going on at the other airlocks. Nowhere did Martinez see any violence.
He zoomed in on one of the Naxid columns. At least half the Naxids were carrying sidearms.
Whatever was happening, it wasn’t a surprise inspection. You didn’t carry weapons while making an inspection.
His cuff button chimed again. “Private comm: answer,” he said.
Alikhan. “They’re coming, my lord.”
“Very good. Blank your screen but keep this channel open.”
Martinez configured his own sleeve display so his words would not be transmitted: this left him free to give other orders without the Naxids overhearing through Alikhan’s comm rig.
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.
