The Second Martian War was three weeks old when the officers of the Terran destroyer Darkside found themselves assembled in Control and glumly aware that the Flotilla Commodore was sizing them up. It was hard to tell just what he was thinking, but whatever it was they had made up their minds to return it doubled in spades. Having a Flotilla Commodore on board was actually a hardship, particularly if as in the case of the Darkside —the ship elected was unsuitable for a flagship. The Commodore nee