an invitation. Squadron Leader Chen had her own dining room, as did theIllustrious captain, Gomberg. Unless someone invited him, or unless he invited others, his unique status on the ship ensured his solitude.
He had left the relatively carefree life of a lieutenant behind, but he missed the companionship that life had once brought him. He would have happily traded that companionship for the loneliness of command, but the fact remained that hewasn’t in command, and he had to dine alone anyway.
Perry cleared Martinez’s plate and offered to pour more wine. Martinez placed his hand over the glass.
“Thank you, Perry,” he said. Perry took the glass and left in silence.
Martinez called the tactical display onto the wall, just to make certain nothing new had appeared. Even though the naked children on the walls gazed at the displays as if in fascination, Martinez found there had been no change.
He closed the display and gazed at his desk, at images of Terza floating in the midnight surface. He thought of the child they had made together and he was suddenly possessed by a desperate exaltation, a hunger he could taste far more keenly than he had his meal. The idea of a child was a wonder to him, and he felt a blade-sharp longing for the child that he had never quite felt for Terza.
Suddenly, desperately, he wanted to be with his family aboard theEnsenada, the Martinez family yacht that was taking them from abandoned Zanshaa to safety on Laredo. He wanted to be with Terza, to bask in her placid smile and watch the minute progress of the child growing within her. For a brief, intense moment he would have thrown away all ambition in exchange for a quiet life of familial bliss.
There was a knock on the frame of his cabin door, and he looked up to see Lieutenant Chandra Prasad, the one person onIllustrious with whom he didn’t want to be alone.
“Yes?” he said.
Chandra entered, closed the door behind her, and walked to his desk. She braced properly at the salute, shoulders flared back, chin high, throat bared—the posture imposed by the empire’s Shaa conquerors on all vanquished species, the better to allow their superiors to cut their throats if they felt so inclined.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” Martinez said.
She relaxed and held out a thick envelope. “From Lord Captain Fletcher.”
The envelope was of thick smooth paper in a faintly cranberry shade, no doubt custom-made for Captain Fletcher by the foremost papermaker of Harzapid. The seal on the envelope had many quarterings and reflected the captain’s illustrious heritage.
Martinez broke the seal and withdrew a card, which invited him to dine with the captain on the next day, to honor the birthday of Squadron Commander Chen. Exigencies of the service permitting, of course.
He looked up at Chandra. She had auburn hair, a pointed chin, and a mischievous glint in her long eyes.
“I’ll come, of course,” he said.
“Shall I wait for your reply?” Chandra asked.
Even though the captain’s quarters were only a few paces away and the invitation nothing a sane officer could possibly decline, custom of the service nevertheless required that Martinez reply to a written invitation with a written reply.
“If you’re not required elsewhere,” he said.
The mischievous eyes sparkled. “I am entirely at the captain’s service,” Chandra said.
Which was all too true. Lieutenant Lady Chandra Prasad was Captain Fletcher’s lover, a situation dangerous with potential for intrigue and service politics. That potential was all the greater for the fact that she and Martinez, at the time both obscure lieutenants of provincial origin, had once been involved with each other, a tempestuous relationship that featured mutual betrayals and a parting that had left Martinez feeling relieved rather than rueful.
Martinez didn’t know if Captain Fletcher knew of his involvement with Chandra, and the lack of certainty made him uneasy. His unease was increased by his knowledge of Chandra’s character, which was ambitious, restless, and explosive.
Which was why he didn’t want to be alone with her for any length of time.
He got a card and envelope from his desk and in his best hand wrote a brief acceptance. As he sealed the card in its envelope he had a mental picture of Fletcher touching the card stock with his sensitive fingers and shaking his head at its inferior quality.
Martinez offered the envelope to Chandra, who was looking down at his desktop with her head tilted, casting a critical glance at Terza’s pictures.
“It’s unfair that your wife is beautiful as well as rich and well-connected,” she said.
“She’s also talented, brave, and highly intelligent,” Martinez said, and held the envelope clearly in Chandra’s line of sight.
Her full lips gave an amused twist. She took the envelope, then glanced with her long eyes at the naked, winged boy-children fluttering on the office walls. “Do you like the view from your desk?” she asked. “The captain tells me they’re calledputti, and they’re an ancient artistic motif from Terra.”
“I wish they’d stayed there.”
“I imagine you’d prefer naked girls,” Chandra said. “I seem to remember that you liked naked girls very well.”
Martinez looked up at her and saw the invitation in her eyes. Suddenly he was aware of the nearness of her, the scent of her perfume. He looked away.
“Not in such quantity,” he said.
“Don’t underestimate yourself. You juggled quite a number of us, back on Zarafan.”
He looked at her again. “It’s not Zarafan anymore.”
Now it was Chandra’s turn to look away. Her eyes passed over the chubby children. “Still,” she added, “it’s a good deal more cheerful than what the captain has inhis private quarters.”
Martinez told himself that he wasn’t interested in what Chandra had seen in her visits to the captain’s chambers. “Is that so?” he found himself saying.
“Oh yes.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s nothing like what he’s got in the public areas.”
Pornography, then,Martinez concluded. The thought depressed him. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”
“Oh,” Chandra said, “I don’t have anything to do. I’m not on watch for hours yet.”
“Ihave work,” Martinez said. Chandra gave a shrug, then braced to the salute.
Martinez again called up the tactical display. Chandra left the room.
Martinez glanced at the display and saw nothing new. In fact he had no work, not until the squadcom found a task for him or something unexpected turned up on the tactical display.
He wished there were more to do. He very much wanted a task in which he could lose himself.
The alternative was to think about what might happen to Termaine if the system’s governor refused Michi’s demands. Or to think about his marriage. Or think of Chandra, near, available, and dangerous. Or, worst of all, to think about Caroline Sula.
In an attempt to fill the hours till supper, Martinez called up hypertourney on the desktop computer and tried to lose himself within a game of strategy and abstract spacial relationships.
He played both sides, and lost.
FOUR
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What We Owe Our Government
The fact that we are under occupation by an invader has caused even loyal citizens to question their actions and to wonder what is required of them. They do not know how to respond to the rebels who have seized the capital and whose demands on the population are backed by threats of arrest, torture, and violence. They are
