Free The Sundering by Walter Jon Williams Page A

to set his face in an expression of mild interest as he sorted this out.
    With his stylus, he condemned the stores. Another report flashed onto his desk.
    “The Control Board knew full well that I had been placed in command of this squadron,” he said finally. “They did not countermand the squadcom’s order, and therefore I remain in command.”
    Out of the corner of his eye he saw the frown form beneath Kamarullah’s gray mustache. “A countermanding order wasn’t necessary,” he said. “In the absence of an order from a superior officer, the senior officer is always in command of an independent detachment.”
    “But we have such an order, dating from when the squadron was formed.”
    Kamarullah affected patience. “But the squadron is no longer part of Faqforce. We’re operating under Commandery orders. We’ve been removed from Do-faq’s command, and his decisions no longer apply.”
    The squadrons had barely separated. Do-faq, at this instant, was only a few light-seconds away. It was absurd to think that Do-faq’s orders no longer pertained.
    Martinez turned to look directly into the camera. “If you insist,” he said, “we can refer this matter to the nearest superior officer.”
    Kamarullah stared stonily out of the display. “That senior officer’s preferences no longer apply.” He made a visible effort to seem at ease, to force a highly artificial smile onto his face. “Come now, my lord,” he said. “You know as well as I that Lord Do-faq’s order superceding my command was arbitrary and a result of sheer prejudice. You have a new command and a new crew, and I’m sure you’ve got enough work without taking on the job of a squadcom.” The effort to maintain a friendly tone grated in Kamarullah’s words. “You know as well as I that the strain has been showing. I say nothing against your abilities, but I’ve been with my crew for almost two years, and surely you can see that I can give the job of squadcom my full attention, without having to spend most of my time whipping my crew into shape. Don’t you think the job deserves that?”
    Martinez took a bite of his sandwich, tasting the heat of mustard across his tongue, then chewed as he contemplated the merits of Kamarullah’s argument. The problem was that the merits were considerable: Kamarullah had been treated unjustly, and Martinez had been jumped over his head in a piece of rank favoritism. Kamarullah was a more experienced officer with a highly experienced crew.
    But, he thought. But…
    Kamarullah had been insufferably superior when it came to Corona ’s deficiencies in the maneuvers. He had been wrong when it came to the tactical lessons of Magaria, and would never consider Martinez’s new system.
    Plus, Squadron Commander Do-faq was an officer who obviously knew how to hold a grudge, as witness his treatment of Kamarullah in the first place. If Martinez willingly surrendered a command to which Do-faq appointed him, and furthermore to a man Do-faq despised, Martinez could hardly expect preferment from Do-faq ever again.
    Let alone mercy.
    And besides, my lord, Martinez thought as he looked at Kamarullah, I just…don’t… like you.
    “I’m willing to refer the matter to higher authority,” he said, “but until that time I will consider myself commander of this squadron.”
    Anger drew Kamarullah’s graceless smile into a snarl. “If that’s the way you want it, my lord,” he said. “I’ll compose a message to the Control Board.”
    “No, my lord, you will not, ” Martinez said. “ I will compose the letter. I will send a copy to you and another to Lord Commander Do-faq…for hisfiles.”
    Kamarullah’s color had deepened with rage. “I could just take command,” he said. “I’ll wager most of the captains would follow me.”
    “If you tried, Lord Commander Do-faq would blow you to bits,” Martinez said. “Please remember he’s not that far away.”
    After he signed off, Martinez dictated a letter that