He looked at Francis. "Rigger Francis's misadventures with the turbopump demonstrated the folly of yarning the log. So the others gave correct information and hoped that no one ever checked the hardware's history." He shrugged. "It took me a while, but I checked."

He swept the others with his eyes. "I'm going to assume that any department with equipment from theQuest is run by someone who's guilty. I've checked enough to see that there's machinery from theQuest in Thuc's old department, and in Gulik's, and in Francis's."

Francis made a contemptuous sound with her tongue and turned her head away. Gulik looked as if someone had just thrown a poisonous snake in his lap.

Martinez turned to Gawbyan. "They couldn't have done any of it without you. So you're guilty too."

Gawbyan's lips emerged from the thin line into which he'd pressed them. "Naxids," he said. "Naxid engineers could have done that work."

Martinez considered this idea and conceded that it was possible, if unlikely.

"Your account at the commissary will be examined closely," he said, "and we'll see if you share any mysterious payments with your mates. That'll be proof enough as far as I'm concerned."

A contemptuous look entered Gawbyan's eyes.

"I didn't kill anyone," Gulik said rapidly. "I didn't want to be a part of any of it but they talked me into it. They said I could earn back some of the money I'd lost at cards."

"Shut up, you rat-faced little coward," Francis said, but she said it without concern, as if she'd already lost interest in the proceedings.

"Gawbyan and Francis killed the captain!" Gulik cried. "Fletcher had already shown he wasn't going to kill me, I had no reason to want him dead!"

Francis flashed the weaponer a look of perfect disdain but said nothing. Martinez saw Gawbyan's big hands closing into fists.

If this were one of the Dr. An-ku dramas that Michi enjoyed, Martinez thought, it would have been the moment at which the killers produced weapons and made a murderous lunge for him, or taken hostages and tried to bargain their way out. But that didn't happen.

Instead Martinez called for Alikhan, and Alikhan entered from the kitchen with Garcia and four constables, including Martinez's servants Ayutano and Espinosa. All, even Alikhan, were armed with stun batons and sidearms.

"Gawbyan, Gulik, and Francis," Martinez said. "Lock them up."

All three were cuffed from behind. There was no resistance, though Francis gave Alikhan a scornful look.

"Wait, Captain!" Gulik said as he was manhandled out the door. "This isn't fair! Theymade me!"

Alikhan remained behind, hovering behind Martinez, who felt a great tension begin to ebb. He picked up his wineglass, took a long drink and put the glass back on the table.

It wasn't as if he didn't deserve a drink right now.

He looked at the remaining petty officers. "There were lines crossed on this ship," Martinez said. "Four senior petty officers conspired to rob recruits of their pay, and no one complained, no one talked, and no one did anything about it. Those same petty officers branched out into sale of Fleet property, and they put the ship in danger over and over. People died at Harzapid because of those four.

"And it wasn't just the petty officers," Martinez said. "Captain Fletcher crossed some lines too, and maybe that made others think it was acceptable."

He looked at his remaining guests and saw them staring at nothing, or perhaps looking inward. Cho and Zhang seemed angry. Nyamugali looked as if he were ready to weep.

"If any of you were involved with any of these schemes," Martinez said, "I need to knownow . I need to know what you know. Believe me, it will go better with you if you turn yourselves in than if I find it out on my own. Right now I haven't done anything more than spot-check the logs, and I haven't looked at financial records in any kind of detailed way. But Iwill . Now that I know what to look for, I'll have that information very soon."

There was silence, and then Amelia Zhang turned to Martinez and said, "You won't find anything wrong in my department, my lord. And you can look at my finances and see I live on my pay and that most of it goes to my kids' school fees."

"My department's clean," said Strode. He brushed one of his mustachios with a knuckle. "I yarned my log, I admit that, but I didn't like those others, Thuc and Francis particularly, and whenever they talked to me about ways of making money I wouldn't listen."

Martinez nodded.

"Illustriousdepends on you all," he said. "You're more important to this ship than the officers. You're all professionals and you're all good at what you do, and I know that's the case because Captain Fletcher wouldn't have had you aboard otherwise. But those others-they're theenemy . Understand?"

He had a feeling he'd made better speeches in his career. But he hoped he'd succeeded in creating a dividing line, the kind that was necessary in war, between us and them. Those he'd just labeled asus were people he needed very badly.Illustrious had been scarred, not in combat but in its heart, and the remaining petty officers were going to be a vital part in any healing. He could have had the killers arrested in their beds and dragged to the brig, but that wouldn't have had the same effect on their peers. It could have been put down to arbitrary action on the part of an officer, and that wasn't what Martinez wanted. He wanted to demonstrate in front of their peers how guilty the killers were, and exactly how long and detailed their treachery was, and how badly it had put the ship in danger. He had wanted to separatethem fromus .

Martinez felt a sudden weariness. He'd done everything he'd set out to do, and said far more than he'd intended to say. He pushed back his chair and rose. Chairs scraped as they were pushed back, and the others jumped to their feet and braced.

Martinez reached for his glass and raised it. "To the Praxis," he said, and the others echoed him.

He drained his glass, and the others drained theirs.

"I won't keep you," he said. "I'll talk to the new department heads tomorrow morning."

He watched them file out, and when they were gone, he reached for a bottle and refilled his glass. He drained half of it in one long swallow, then he turned to Alikhan.

"Tell Perry I'll have supper in my office after I report to the squadcom."

"Very good, my lord."

Alikhan turned and marched, adjusting the belt with its sidearm and baton. Martinez looked at Marsden.

"Did you get all that?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Turn off your record function, please."

Marsden did so, and stood bald and impassive, waiting for Martinez's next order.

"I'm sorry about Phillips," Martinez said.

Surprise fluttered in the other man's eyes. He turned to Martinez. "My lord?"

"I know you would have saved him if you could."

There was an instant of surprise on Marsden's face, and then he mastered it and his face was impassive again.

"I'm sure, my lord, I don't know what you mean."

"You people have hand signals and so on, don't you?" Martinez asked. "You would have given Phillips a warning if he hadn't happened to be on watch in Command." He took in a breath and sighed it out. "I wish you had."

Marsden looked at him with intense brown eyes but said nothing.

"I worked out a while ago," Martinez said, "that Thuc may have been a killer, but he wasn't a Narayanist. The tree pendant was found in Thuc's belongings because you put it there, Marsden, when I sent you to collect his things. You knew that I was about to launch an investigation into cult affiliations, and you wanted to get rid of the evidence. So you took the pendant from around your own neck and put it in with Thuc's jewelry."

Marsden's neck muscles twitched. He looked stonily at Martinez.

"My lord," he said, "that's pure speculation."

"I couldn't work out why you were behaving so strangely," Martinez said. "You were very angry when I first mentioned Narayanists-and then you denounced me for daring to insult the Gomberg and Fletcher clans. You forced me to search you right then and there, though of course that was after you'd ditched your pendant. I thought you were some extreme kind of snob. What I didn't realize was that I'd just insulted your most deeply held beliefs.

"The problem is, that pendant helped to condemn Phillips. You didn't know that one of Thuc's fingerprints was found on Kosinic's body. That linked murder and Narayanism in my mind, and I charged off on a campaign to find cult killers. That's the way cultists are always portrayed in video dramas-killing people and sacrificing children to false gods. I was misled by a lifetime of watching that sort of drama. I forgot that Narayanism isn't a killing sort of belief."

"I wouldn't know, my lord." Marsden spoke with great care.

Martinez shrugged. "I wanted you to know I was sorry about the way I handled things. You won't forgive me, I'm sure, but I hope you'll understand." He took a long drink of his wine. "That's all, Marsden. If you can copy me that recording, and append a transcription as soon as you can, I'd be very much obliged."

Marsden braced. "Yes, my lord."

"You are dismissed."

Marsden turned and walked away, his back straight, his head facing rigidly forward. Martinez watched the door close behind him.

Apology not accepted,he thought.

He took another long drink of his wine, and then he walked to his office, put the wineglass on his desk, and walked out into the corridor.

It was time to report to Lady Michi.

TWENTY-FOUR.

Anxiety over the Naxid raid had not improved Tork's appearance. His flesh was dying faster than ever, and dry twists of skin hung from his hands and gray, expressionless face. Decay came off him in great gusts. But however frail his body seemed, his mind remained firm and inflexible as ever.

"There is only one possible solution," he said, "and that is for this board to appoint me commander of the Home Fleet."

Lady Seekin's eyes were huge beneath her dark goggles. "But aren't you retired, my lord?"

Resignation tinged Lord Tork's voice. "This board has the power to restore me to active service. I will accept, of course, with regret. I had hoped that those days were long past."

Lord Chen doubted that Tork's regret could possibly be greater than his own.

"I don't understand, my lord," he ventured. "You've been entrusted with the direction of the entire Fleet establishment, not just ships, but ring stations and everything on the ground as well. You're crucial to our hopes of victory. Can you possibly forsake this trust for the command of only one element?"

Chen had been afraid his words might provoke another diatribe from Tork, but the chairman's chiming voice remained level.

"There is no one else. Consider-the Home Fleet must be led by someone of suitable rank. Most of the active officers of fleet command rank died at Magaria, and the rest are too distant from the scene of action. Kringan is three months away, at Harzapid with the Fourth Fleet. Pel-to is at Felarus, with Naxidheld systems in the way. Trepatai is at Seizho, but her health broke down early in the war, and she hasn't left her bed for months. Lord Ivan Snow has suitable rank, but has spent most of his career with the Investigative Service, has never commanded a large formation, and is in any case three months away at Laredo, where he reports to the Convocation. Whereas I..."

There was a moment of silence. Lord Chen closed his throat against the sickly waft of dying flesh that floated to his nostrils.

"I am available," Tork said. "I will hold suitable rank once I am restored to the active list. I am a Daimong, and could join the two new Antopone cruisers, which are adapted for Daimong crews and could take me aboard without difficulty."

"Couldn't wepromote someone into the position?" Lady Seekin asked. "Lord Pa Do-faq is a victorious commander. We couldn't find a more experienced officer."

Chen closed his eyes and wished he could close his ears as well, against the sonic storm that was bound to peal from Tork at Lady Seekin's sensible but naive sentiments. Again he was surprised, for Tork said nothing, while the question was answered by Pezzini.

"Do-faq's an advocate of the innovations that got Kangas killed," he said. "We can't put the Home Fleet under him-he'd just kill more good officers, and probably lose Zanshaa all over again. The Fleet needs to be under a strong disciplinarian and an advocate of orthodox tactics." He nodded at Tork. "The lord chairman fits the description."

"I am no longer young," Tork said, "but my health remains good. And in any case I need retain my vigor only a few more months."

After that there was no choice. Tork and his loyalists would block any attempt to promote Do-faq or anyone else.

Lord Chen raised his hand with the others when the vote was called, and Lord Tork was appointed unanimously to command the Home Fleet, charged with the reconquest of Zanshaa and the defeat of the rebels.

Tork threw himself into the work with his usual dedication. He didn't transfer himself to the Daimong ships right away, but stayed where he had sufficient support staff to keep himself informed of the status of the Fleet throughout the empire.

The Daimong ships continued to Chijimo, where they would dock and receive their weapons. Tork made certain all necessary equipment was shipped from Antopone. The Home Fleet under Do-faq decelerated all the way to Zarafan, then swung around its sun and whipped back to Chijimo.

Reinforcements were on their way. Three ships from the Fourth Fleet that had finished repairs after the battle at Harzapid. Three brand-new frigates, built with astounding efficiency by the Martinez yards at Laredo, were undergoing trials; and the Convocation, mightily impressed, commissioned five frigates more. Thirty-one more ships were nearing completion elsewhere in friendly space, and construction had begun on another sixty.

Fleet Commander Kringan, at Harzapid, apparently heard the call of the trumpets once the news of Kangas's death reached him. Within three days he'd placed himself aboard a frigate, one that hadn't yet finished repair, and launched himself for Chijimo with repair crews still aboard. Clearly he was hoping to arrive in time to be appointed commander of the Home Fleet, but unfortunately no one else was hearing the same trumpets, because by the time the frigate left Harzapid's system, Tork had already received the supreme command.

Lord Chen would be grateful for Kringan's presence, however. It would be good to have another high-ranking officer on hand in case Tork worked himself into a stroke.

But Tork showed no sign of flagging. He grew leaner and he shed skin at a fantastic rate, but he burned with a fever that his age could not quench. Lord Chen had to admit that no other officer could possibly have been more dedicated.

The Naxids launched no more raids.

"They've learned not to make detachments," Lord Mondi said as they relaxed one evening inGalactic 's lounge. "Every time they send a force out on its own, they lose it. Hone-bar, Protipanu, and now Antopone-and since there have been no Naxid survivors, they have no idea what's doing it to them."

"So it all comes down to one big battle then," said Pezzini. "It all comes down to Zanshaa."

The three traitors were executed two days after their arrest. The Convocation, in the hours following the start of the rebellion, had decreed that the penalty for treason was torture followed by hurling the condemned from a great height. Martinez managed to talk Michi out of the torture on the grounds that the squadron had no professional torturers and that amateurs were bound to make a mess of it. He couldn't tell whether Michi was relieved by her decision or not.

There were no heights to throw the condemned men from, but Michi managed an approximation. Illustrious was decelerating at one gravity, to swing around the blue giant Alekas and on to another wormhole, so she decided to eject the traitors from an airlock. Once free of the ship, the traitors would no longer be decelerating and would fall into the ship's burning antimatter tail.

And they would be ejected without vac suits. "Damned if I'll waste vac suits on them!" Michi snarled. The vacuum might well kill them before they were torn to atoms by the antimatter blast. Martinez didn't know which death would be worse.

Gawbyan was stoic in the moments leading up to his execution. Francis was contemptuous, and Gulik, who had condemned himself and the others repeatedly during his interrogation, sagged in a kind of bewilderment. He seemed to suggest that it was unfair to execute him. He'd cooperated and freely confessed, and he didn't understand why he didn't get a prize from a grateful empire.

They died with ceremony. A party waited at the airlock, Martinez, Michi with her staff, and all the lieutenants except Corbigny, who was on watch. All glittered in full dress. There was a guard, witnesses from each of the prisoners' departments, and the ship's band, which played the low, mournful "Death Without Honor" as the prisoners shuffled from the brig in their coveralls.

Constable Garcia stripped from the condemned their badges of rank and seniority. Guards tied their ankles together with white mourning tape, and their arms were taped to their sides. They were then taken into the airlock and loaded onto an apparatus designed to eject the bodies of crew who had died in accident or as a result of enemy action. The apparatus hadn't ever been used on live crew, so far as Martinez knew, but he imagined the principle remained the same.

The inner airlock door closed smoothly. Garcia stepped to the airlock controls. The band halted at the end of the phrase, and the drummer began a slow, throbbing pulse on the hourglass-shaped drum.

"Evacuate the airlock, Mr. Garcia," Martinez said.

"Evacuate the airlock, my lord." Garcia turned to the controls. If there was a sound, a hiss or the throb of pumps, it was covered by the sound of the drum.

If he were one of the condemned, Martinez thought, he'd try to hold his breath and hope to give himself a quick embolism.

Garcia turned back to him. "Airlock evacuated, my lord."