Koslowski, the premiere, frowned at him. He was a long-legged, broad-handed man, as befit his position of goalkeeper. “This morning,” he said, “you told me that you thought that all this was the rehearsal for a surprise inspection—”
He barely got out the words before Tarafah thumped a hand down on the table and made the plates jump. “Just before the game? When we’re all distracted? That Fanaghee’s a vicious little monster, isn’t she?” He looked at Koslowski. “I’ll have to inspect the ship myself tomorrow morning before breakfast, right when I was hoping to have a last talk with the team.”
“The lord premiere and I have been preparing for the inspection,” Martinez said. “I’ve had the people hard at work all day.”
Tarafah seemed little mollified. “That’s good. But I still can’t believe that Fanaghee would take advantage of the Festival of Sport in this way. It just isn’t right!”
“My lord,” Martinez said. “I no longer believe that the Naxids are planning a surprise inspection.”
Tarafah blinked at him. “What?” he said. “What are you bothering us with, then?”
Martinez tried to settle his leaping wits. “You don’t need weaponers or engineers or constables to pull an inspection, Lord Elcap,” he said. “You need weaponers to control the weapons bays. Engineers to control the engines. And constables to control the crew—andthe officers.”
Tarafah’s brows knit as he tried to puzzle it out. “Yes. That’s true. But what are you saying?”
Martinez took a deep breath. “I think the Naxids are going to board the ship and take her. Takeall the ships they don’t have already.”
Tarafah gave a puzzled frown. “Why would Fanaghee do that? She doesn’t need to capture our ships. She’salready in command of the Second Fleet.”
To prevent his hands from trembling with eagerness and frustration, Martinez clamped them on the butter-smooth edge of the table and squeezed.
“She could be acting to suppress a mutiny she believes is about to break out,” Martinez said. “Or it could be a rising of some kind.”
The trainer, Mancini, seemed even more puzzled than his captain. “On theFestival of Sport? ” he demanded in a high, peevish voice. “A rising on theFestival of Sport? ”
“What better time?” Martinez asked. “Most of the crew, and all the senior officers, will be off the ship watching the games.”
“The Naxids areparticipating in the festival,” Koslowski said. “They’re having a huge tournament of lighumane, and—” He hesitated. “Some of the other sports they do.”
“On theFestival of Sport? ” Mancini repeated. “Spoil the football and disappoint the fans? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Tarafah said. “Why should Fanaghee lead a rising? She’s at the top of her profession—she’s afleet commander, for all’s sake.”
“I don’t know,” Martinez said. He hesitated—he knew this might sound dangerously absurd, but it was the only argument he had left. “Maybe it’s not just Fanaghee,” he said. “Maybeall the Naxids are rising.”
The others stared at him. Then Koslowski lowered his eyes and shook his head, his lips quirked in a tight smile. “Allthe Naxids?” he murmured. “That’s too ridiculous.”
“The Naxids are the most orthodox species under the Praxis,” Tarafah said. “There’s never been a single rebellion in Naxid history.”
“They’re pack animals,” Koslowski said. “They always submit to authority.”
“They’dnever spoil the football,” Mancini proclaimed, and smacked his lips as he drank his ale.
“Then what could they possibly be doing?” Martinez asked. “I have no other explanation.”
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” Koslowski said reasonably. “Maybe Fanaghee’s decided to drill her people on boarding. Maybe it’s a familiarization tour for new arrivals. Who knows?”
Tarafah seemed happy to agree with his goalkeeper. “This speculation is useless,” he said. “I’m not going to get inside Fanaghee’s mind, or Kulukraf’s either.” He turned to Martinez. “Lord Gareth, I appreciate your…diligence. But I think you’ve let your imagination run away with you.”
“Lord Elcap,” desperately, “I—”
“Perhaps we should return to tomorrow’s game,” Tarafah said. “That’s something a little more within our sphere.”
Martinez suppressed the impulse to hurl his glass at his captain’s face.
“To our winning play!” Mancini said, and raised his glass. “Sorensen to Villa to Yamana to Sorensen to Digby—andgoal! ”
Martinez drank with the others, as despairing, unvoiced shrieks echoed one after another in his skull.
He didn’t manage to eat much of his dinner. When the elcap proposed another review of the videos ofBeijing ‘s game, Martinez excused himself and made his way to his cabin. Once there, he sent messages to the other officers he knew on station, asking if they’d care to meet him in one of the bars on the station. Salzman didn’t reply, Ming sent his regrets, Aragon said that he was participating in the wushu tournament in the Festival of Sport and was making an early night of it. Aidepone was likewise preparing for tomorrow’s game of fatugui, and only Mukerji accepted. Viewing the transmission, with its sonic interference, Martinez knew that Mukerji was already in a bar.
Martinez joined him in the Murder Hole, a dark, nebulous, and noisy place, with ear-shattering music and dancing. Mukerji bought three rounds of drinks while Martinez showed Mukerji the Naxid maneuvers on his sleeve display and explained his theory.
Mukerji put a friendly arm around Martinez’s shoulders. “I always thought you were mad!” he said cheerfully. “Totally mad!”
“You can tell your captain!” Martinez shouted over the music. “I can give you the data! He might be able to save his ship!”
“Totally mad!” Mukerji repeated. He pointed to a couple of Fleet cadets standing by the bar. “If it’s my last night of freedom, I want some recreationals,” he said. “Who do you want—the redhead or the other?”
Martinez excused himself and made his way out onto the ring station with whisky fumes swirling through his head.
Perhaps hewas mad, he thought. No other officer credited his theory about the Naxids. Maybe they’d been right about the absurdity of his premise. It made no sense that the most obedient and orthodox species under the Praxis would suddenly turn rogue.
He admitted to himself that he didn’t like Naxids and never had. He likewise admitted that it was an irrational prejudice. Naxids had always made him uneasy, unlike the other species united beneath the Praxis. Perhaps he had let his bias run in advance of the facts.
He thought again of those parties marching up and down the ring station’s broad avenue, and at the thought, a chill certainty went through his frame.
No. Hewas right. The Naxids were going to board the ship. It was possible there was some rational explanation for it other than a rising, some reason that hadn’t occurred to him, but the boardingwould happen.
And if the boarding were to be prevented, Martinez would be the one to do it.
Martinez returned to his cabin aboardCorona and called Alikhan.
“My lord?”
“No good with the captain,” Martinez said. “Or with anyone else.”
Alikhan didn’t seem surprised. “I have spoken to the master engineer,” he said.
“And?”
“Maheshwari agrees with your lordship.” Spoken carefully, in case of eavesdroppers.
Martinez sighed. Maheshwari was something, at least.