Walter Williams - Logs

Lord Gareth Martinez ate alone in his office, staring sourly at the plump buttocks and chubby faces of the naked winged children that so oddly ornamented his office walls. He was served by his cook, Perry, and he dined alone.

It was normal for him to eat by himself. He was the squadron's tactical officer. A tactical officer was normally a lieutenant, and would mess in the wardroom, a kind of club for the lieutenants. Martinez, a full captain, couldn't take a meal in the wardroom without an invitation. Squadron Leader Chen had her own dining room, as did the flagship's 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 brought him. He would have traded that companionship for the loneliness of command, but the fact remained that he wasn't in command, and he had to dine alone anyway.

Perry cleared Martinez' 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.

The flagship Illustrious and six other warships-"Chenforce"-were on an extended raid into Naxid space. Their task was to destroy enemy commerce, not to engage Naxid squadrons, and every enemy vessel at large in the Termaine system had been destroyed by Chenforce missiles within the first few days after the wormhole jump into the system. Chenforce would pass by Termaine itself in three days' time, and had already ordered the commander of the planet's ring station to jettison any ships docked on the ring. Their destruction would provide a close-up demonstration of the raiders' power.

The raid would last another two or three months. Martinez could look forward to many dinners alone in his office.

He closed the display and gazed at his desk, at the images of his wife Terza that floated 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 sudden blade-sharp longing.

Suddenly, desperately, he wanted to be with his family aboard the Ensenada, 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 tranquil 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 on Illustrious 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 Shaa conquerors on all vanquished species, the better to allow their superiors to cut their throat 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 a thick smooth paper of a faintly cranberry shade, no doubt custom-made for Captain Fletcher by the foremost paper-maker of Harzapid. The seal on the envelope had many quarterings, reflecting 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 was 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 thorny with the 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 been involved with each other some years earlier, a tempestuous relationship that featured mutual betrayals and a parting that had left Martinez feeling more relieved than rueful.

Martinez didn't know if Captain Fletcher was aware of his past 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, certainly not 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 Martinez' 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 called putti, and they're an ancient artistic motif from Terra."

"I wish they'd stayed there," Martinez said.

"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 any more."

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 in his 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."

"I have 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 had no work, not until the squadcom found a task for him or something unexpected turned up on the tactical display.

Martinez called up hyper-tourney on the desktop computer and tried to lose himself within a game of strategy and abstract spacial relationships.