Free Conventions of War by Walter Jon Williams Page B

autocrat, but perfectly relaxed about it.
    â€œ New Dynasty concerns a provincial Peer who travels to Zanshaa and comes within an ace of taking her place in elite society,” Fletcher continued. “But she fails, and in the end has to return home. She ends the story in her proper place.” He gave Lady Michi a questioning look. “How is that tragic? Genuine tragedy is the fall of someone born into the highest place and then falling from it.”
    Chandra’s hand, under the table, dropped onto Martinez’s thigh and gave it a ferocious squeeze. Martinez tried not to jump.
    â€œWhich is more tragic, Lord Captain,” Chandra asked, her voice a little high. “A provincial who rises above her station and fails, or a provincial who rises and succeeds ?”
    Fletcher gave her a sharp look, and then his expression regained its accustomed poise. “The latter, I think,” he said.
    Chandra dug her claws once more into Martinez’s thigh. Anger vibrated in her. The other officers stiffened, their eyes on the drama being played out between Chandra and the captain. They were all aware that she and Fletcher were lovers, and they all could see that the relationship might explode right at this moment, in front of them all.
    The moment appalling, Martinez thought. It was like watching an accident: you couldn’t stop it, but you couldn’t turn away.
    â€œSo provincials shouldn’t try to rise in the world?” Chandra asked. “Provincials should stay on their home worlds and let the High City families deal with affairs? The same families that nearly lost the empire to the rebels?” She looked at Martinez. “Where would the Fleet be if Captain Martinez had followed that advice?”
    Though Martinez had to agree that the Fleet was improved by his presence, he preferred not to be used as an example. He knew that despite his success, the captain considered him a freak of nature, something on a par with a bearded lady or a talking dog.
    He knew, but he didn’t particularly feel like rehashing it all at Michi Chen’s birthday dinner, particularly since nothing he said or did would ever alter the captain’s mind.
    â€œHow much worse would our situation be without Captain Martinez, I’d like to know,” Chandra insisted.
    â€œCaptain Martinez,” said Fletcher easily, “isn’t a tragic hero, so far as I know. We’re discussing theater, not real life.” He gave a graceful inclination of his head toward Martinez. “Were a figure like Captain Martinez to appear onstage, it would be a tale of high adventure, surely, not the fall of the great.”
    Chandra gave Fletcher a smoldering glare. “The great have abandoned Zanshaa and are running like hell from the enemy right now,” she said. “Do you think there’ll ever be a tragedy about that?” Her lip curled. “Or will it be a farce ?”
    â€œI think—” Michi began firmly, with the obvious intention of ending the discussion, when a chime from her sleeve display interrupted her. The officers fell silent as she answered: they knew no one would have interrupted the squadron commander’s dinner without good reason.
    From his position at Michi’s elbow, Martinez saw the chameleon-weave fabric on her left forearm resolve itself into the image of the warrant officer who guided Illustrious from Command.
    â€œMy lady, I have received a reply from the governor of Termaine,” she said.
    â€œI’ll see it,” Michi said.
    â€œIt’s text only. It reads: ‘In view of the local superiority of your pirate forces, and the millions murdered at Bai-do by your command, I have no option but to comply with your unjust and tyrannical demands.’ Signed, Fleet Commander Jakseth, Military Governor.”
    Michi listened to the insults with a wry smile, and when the governor’s name was spoken, burst into a delighted laugh. “So