staring the recommended hand’s breadth above the captain’s head.
“Captain Martinez, lord captain,” he said.
Senior Captain Lord Gomberg Fletcher took his time about replying. “Yes,” he judged. “Apparently you are he. You may stand at ease.”
The Fleet’s most celebrated aesthete was a thin-faced man with carefully waved silver hair and ice-blue eyes set in deep, craggy sockets. His uniform was soft and well tailored and immaculate, and the silver buttons gleamed.
“Captain Martinez,” Fletcher said, “may I present Lieutenant the Lady Chandra Prasad?”
“Her ladyship and I are already acquainted,” Martinez said.
“Ye-es,” Chandra said. There was a mischievous gleam in her long brown eyes, and Martinez did his best not to respond to it. He and Lady Chandra had done a two-month communications and cipher course some years ago, on a long hot summer on Zarafan, and the summer had been all the hotter for the two of them being together.
Chandra’s hair had gone auburn in the years since—Martinez recalled it being brown—but the pointed chin and the full, amused lips were exactly as Martinez had stored them in his memory.
Martinez dragged his eyes away from Chandra, and decided that the situation merited the tribute direct. “My lord,” he said. “Please allow me to compliment you on the appearance of your ship. It’s the most complete vision I’ve ever seen.”
Fletcher accepted the praise with easy tolerance. “You should have seen my oldSwift. It was a much smaller ship, so I was able to make use of mosaic.”
“That must have been exquisite,” Martinez said.
Fletcher smiled graciously. “It was a worthy effort, I believe.”
“I understand you’ve married,” Chandra interrupted. “My congratulations.”
Martinez turned to her. “Thank you.”
The mischievous gleam still burned in her eyes. “Are you enjoying it?” she asked.
Surprise at the question caused Martinez to hesitate a fraction of a second. He knew better than to express any vacillation over his marriage, particularly to this woman, particularly on a ship with a Chen on board. “Marriage is delightful,” he said. “Have you tried it yet?”
Now it was Chandra’s turn to hesitate. “Not yet,” she said finally.
Fletcher’s blue eyes scanned like a receiver dish from Martinez to Chandra and back, searching for the source of the intimacy that smouldered beneath their words.
“Well,” he said finally, “my congratulations on your nuptials, captain. I hope you find your stay onIllustrious a pleasant one.”
“Thank you, my lord. Ah…I should mention that I’ve brought a full complement of servants, and that these include a rigger and a machinist. As I don’t need four servants in my current situation, I’d be happy to offer these two for any purposeIllustrious requires.”
Fletcher received this with a frown. When he spoke, it was with solemn gravity. “I believe you will find, my lord, that an officer of your stature requires a full complement of servants to uphold his dignity.”
Martinez blinked. “Yes, my lord,” he said.
With an enviable mixture of ease and eminence, Fletcher began to move away down the corridor, Chandra in his wake.
Mystature ? Martinez thought. Mydignity ?
“Oh, Captain Martinez, one more thing.” Fletcher had paused, and turned to speak over his shoulder. “We wear full dress for dinner aboardIllustrious .”
“Very good, my lord,” Martinez said automatically. Chandra lifted a cynical eyebrow at Martinez, then followed the captain on his way out.
Martinez went to his cabin. Four servants to uphold hisdignity ? For a moment he pictured his four orderlies hustling him down the corridor in a sedan chair. Then he shrugged and went to his quarters.
For all that it was intended for a lieutenant, Martinez’s sleeping cabin was twice the size of the captain’s cabin onCorona . On the walls were murals that seemed a deliberate contrast from the trompe l’oeil he’d seen elsewhere: against a lush tropical background of greens and turquoise were objects—people, furniture, vehicles —painted to seem two-dimensional, as if the artist had worked from photographs. It was an amusing enough idea and Martinez probably wouldn’t get tired of it, unlike the decor of his office, which featured a motif of chubby, naked, male Terran children, unaccountably winged, who struggled to make use of a collection of ancient weaponry, swords and helmets and armor, that had been designed for grownups. It was unclear whether the children intended to massacre each other or had some other idea in mind. Whatever their purpose, Martinez suspected he would grow to hate their sweet faces and plump buttocks before very many days had passed.
The art, Martinez saw on closer inspection, hadn’t been actually painted on: it had been created in a graphics program, run off on long sheets, and installed like wallpaper.
As an antidote to the treacle on his office walls, he installed a picture of Terza in his desk display, an image of her in a long high-necked white gown, sitting in front of a vast spray of flowers that she had arranged. The picture would glow there at all hours, migrating in silence from one corner of the display to the next, a reminder of the marriage that still eluded his comprehension.
Michi Chen had kindly suggested that Martinez would need rest, but in fact he’d had plenty of relaxation aboardDaffodil during his transit, and he didn’t feel particularly sleepy. He paged Perry for a cup of coffee, settled himself at his desk, and contemplated his discomfort at the memory of Chandra Prasad.
Chandra was as provincial a Peer as was Martinez himself, and from a less distinguished family on her home world. She’d told him that she joined the Fleet out of a desire to escape her home, and indeed restlessness seemed to be her greatest trait. During their months together, she and Martinez had mated, quarreled, reconciled, and then done it all over again. Chandra had been spectacularly unfaithful to him, and as a result he made it a point of honor to be unfaithful to her. Two months of this had left him feeling as if he’s done ten rounds with a prizefighter, and had been more than a little thankful that their connection had come to an end.
Martinez had no intention of becoming involved with Chandra again, especially on a ship with one of his in- laws aboard. He would take that glimmer he’d seen in Chandra’s eye as a warning, and stay clear.
He wished, now that he had time to consider it, that he’d had more practice at being a husband. All his social reflexes were aimed at making himself pleasant and available to any eligible woman in his vicinity. Sexual continence was not a virtue he’d ever felt the need to practice. He was going to have to guard himself against the well-honed gallantry that had been practiced for so long that it amounted to a reflex.
At this point he remembered that he had messages waiting, and with a degree of relief at the mental change of subject he slotted his captain’s key into his desk and called them up. There were several from Terza, the latest from four days ago, and he keyed them.
Most were brief. Life on theEnsenada, speeding toward Laredo, was without care but hardly a gay round of social excitement. Roland was consistently beating Walpurga and Terza in games of hyper-tourney. The several hours spent each day at two gees weren’t causing her any discomfort. Terza read a great deal and had a lot of time to practice her harp.
Martinez found himself warming at the sight of her face, at the lovely moment, just before speaking, when her eyes first lifted to the camera. Once she spoke he detected a slight hesitation in her manner. They hadn’t spent enough time together to develop complete ease in one another’s company, let alone while talking over a distance of light-days. Martinez wondered if his own discomfort showed in the audio and video he’d sent fromDaffodil, and thought he might try writing letters in reply. It would let his manner develop more naturally, without the hesitations of video.
He triggered the latest of the messages and saw Terza on a loveseat in her quarters dressed in a high- collared blouse of blue silk moire, her hair an asymmetric waterfall over one shoulder. He sensed a slight flush in her cheeks, and perhaps an elevated pulse rate as well, though how he knew that he couldn’t imagine.
“I was right,” Terza said in her soft voice. “I told you I felt fertility coming on, and I was correct. I’ve known for twenty or more days that I was pregnant, but I know a lot of accidents can happen early on, and we were dealing with acceleration and so on, so I didn’t want to tell you until I was certain that…well, that it would last. It looks as if there’s no going back now.” Her lips turned up in a smile. “I’m very pleased. I hope you are as well.” She put one of her long, exquisite hands over her abdomen. “All sorts of magical hormone things seem to be
