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.
