House of Reeds ittotss-2 Page 8

  "I see the barbecue pit, kyo." Felix pointed with the flash-suppressing muzzle of her assault rifle. Unlike the lightweight shockrifle the Marines toted shipside, the Heicho was now sporting an ugly, black-finished 'top-deck'-style Macana 8mm assault rifle. Groundside, Felix didn't have to worry about punching a hole in the ship and letting her air out. The Macana was slung under her right arm on a shortened strap, one long clip in the magazine and another taped reversed to the first. A Nambu automatic was tucked under her other arm, held close by the gunrig strapped over her body armor. "Do you see what's between here and there?"

  "Nothing!" Smith made a face, trying to brush off the Marine's hand.

  At that moment, a thundering, earth-shaking roar split the air. Hot wind rushed past the hangar doors and a huge shape swept past, throwing a split-second shadow on the runway. Heat from the afterburners of another Fleet shuttle washed over them, making Smith turn away.

  Felix pushed up her combat goggles and gave the midshipman an arch look. "Nothing. Of course."

  "Sir?" Chief Machinist's Mate Helsdon, hands clasped behind his back, caught Smith's eye. "Would you like me to see about the replacement parts we need?"

  Smith sighed, gave Felix an apologetic shrug and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I would."

  Turning his back on the open hangar door and the shimmering, miragelike vista of the officer's recreational complex squatting between the two runways, Smith flipped open a handpad from his duty jacket. "All right, Sho-sa Kosho would like us to tick off two priorities while we're groundside." He nodded to Helsdon. "You've got chief engineer Isoroku's list of replacement parts for the ship. I doubt local industry is up to fabricating most of this stuff, but maybe you can cadge some from the base supply officer. Or…there's a note here from the commander saying a near-space development effort is underway at the port. A coalition of local kujenates – whatever those are – and the Imperial Development Board are working on deploying a series of communications satellites in orbit. Sho-sa Kosho says they're behind schedule, so hopefully you can swindle them out of whatever we need."

  "Understood, sir." Helsdon had his own copy of the list, but he was being very polite. "All that will take some time – we're low on virtually every kind of material, machine part, and friable tool. When should we meet back here?"

  Smith looked at his chrono, frowned, then looked out the hangar doors at the coppery afternoon sky.

  "Local time is thirteen-hundred, sir." Felix had already adjusted her chrono to show both shiptime and groundtime.

  "We'll be making more than one trip…" Smith sniffed the air, then shook his head mournfully. "But until we know the lay of the land, we'll bunk on the ship. We meet back here at nineteen-hundred, gentlemen. Heicho, send two of your men with Helsdon, the rest will come with us."

  "Aye, aye." Felix motioned at two of the Marines in her fireteam. "Tyrell, Cuizmoc; keep the engineers from having their shoes stolen."

  "Right." Smith thumbed through his list – direct from the Chu-sa – and grimaced. "Where the devil are we going to get all of these things? Five thousand kilo-liters of purified water, four hundred kilos of wheat flour (or equivalent), twelve hundred square meters of cotton sheeting, sixty kilos of chile powder, three hundred square meters of nonskid decking, a hundred twenty kilos of chocolatl powder, a ton of potatoes…"

  Felix was waiting patiently, a slight smile on her elfin face, when the midshipman glared at her in a rather plaintive way.

  "Why do you look so smug, Heicho?"

  "Why, sir, haven't you ever been shopping before?"

  Smith made a face and ignored her while scanning through the rest of the list. By the time he was done, his foul mood had evaporated. "Good, we can divide up the rest of this. You take the dry goods and mess supplies, while I see about arrangements for shore leave for the crew."

  Felix's eyes narrowed slightly. Of course you'd be glad to arrange for the hotels – fresh sheets, convenient brothels, home-cooked food, hot water – for the crew. And make sure to see they're of proper quality…men!

  "I'm sorry kyo, but you're the officer on mission and you have the Fleet scrip to pay for all the things we need. I'm not authorized to sign for purchases, just here to make sure brigands don't cosh you on the head and drag you off to toil in a salt mine. Sir."

  Smith gave her a fulminating look for a long moment, then shrugged in defeat. "Fine. Let's go. You lead, bam-bam."

  "Aye, kyo!" Felix gestured for her two remaining Marines to take point and tail, then plucked her own handpad out of the other holster slot in her gunrig. Humming tunelessly to herself, the Marine thumbed up a map of the spaceport and surrounds. She had already marked a number of locations on the holodisplay. "If it pleases you, kyo, we will want to hire a ground truck first…"

  Hadeishi handed off his jacket, replete with service ribbons, two small medals and what seemed – now – to be a very paltry amount of gold braid, to old Yejin, his steward, as the door chimed.

  "Enter." The Chu-sa was exhausted, but he managed a tiny smile for Sho-sa Susan Kosho when she stepped into the outer room of his office. The slim, perfectly coiffed executive officer's nostrils flared slightly to find her commander in shirtsleeves, but then she caught sight of his face and stiffened like a sword blade drawn ringing from the sheath.

  "Ship's status?" Hadeishi unsealed the collar of his shirt and sat down on one of the low cushions lining the wall of his stateroom.

  "Nominal." Kosho gave him a sharp look. "Circumpolar orbit, as directed by squadron traffic control. Crew is on stand-down and there are two shuttles groundside, arranging for resupply."

  "Yejin-san, bring us something to drink. Sake, I think. If there is any Nadaizumi left."

  The steward's face crumpled like an apple left out in the sun for several weeks. He bowed very deeply. "I beg your forgiveness, mi'lord…" His voice was raspy and thin.

  Hadeishi sighed openly. "What do we have to drink?"

  "A little rice beer, mi'lord." The steward had the look of a man forced to strangle his own child. "There is tea…"

  "There is always tea," the Chu-sa said dryly. "The beer will do. Sho-sa, sit."

  Kosho knelt, somehow managing to suggest gracefulness even in a Fleet duty uniform. Hadeishi watched her with leaden eyes, finding himself nearly overcome with weariness. The ringing sound of crystal and china was still echoing in his ears. The steward returned and placed drinking bowls and two hand-sized ceramic jars on a low table between them.

  Showing admirable restraint, Kosho said nothing while the old man filled their cups and then disappeared through the doors into the main part of the captain's cabin. The battle-steel doors were painted with a traditional scene of mountains and cloud, but the gritty whine of track motors in need of replacement spoiled the illusion of rice-paper shoji sliding closed.

  "I was not able to meet with Admiral Villeneuve," Hadeishi said, after clearing his throat with a long cold swallow. He set the cup down very carefully, then clasped his hands. "I did make the acquaintance of Fleet Captain Jean-Martel Plamondon, operations officer of battle group Tecaltan. I requested reassignment for Cornuelle so we could continue on to the advanced fleet base at Toroson for a complete refit."

  Susan waited, her sharp black eyes intent.

  "My request was refused." Hadeishi let out a breath. "I then requested access to the Fleet mobile repair dock traveling with the battle group, as well as emergency resupply for our munitions and stores directly from 88's magazine ships."

  Kosho's smooth, unmarked forehead developed a slight, but noticeable, line – no more than the shadow of a samisen string running up from the bridge of her nose.

  "Flag Captain Plamondon also declined this request. He felt…" Hadeishi closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were glittering with repressed anger. "He felt such a small ship as the Cornuelle – 'really no more than an over-weight destroyer' – could be provided for by local sources of resupply and provision."

  "What -" Kosho fell silent. Her porce
lain skin flattened to china white. "Your pardon, Chu-sa. I was not aware the industrial base of Jagan was advanced enough to replenish our ship-to-ship missiles, beam capacitors, shuttle engine cores, shipskin…"

  Hadeishi nodded, lifting and dropping one hand in an admission of defeat. "I know."

  "Was there an…e xplanation for these…rejections?" Kosho's voice was brittle. Like her captain, the executive officer of the Cornuelle was bone tired in a way no wakemeup could relieve.

  "Yes. Battle group Tecaltan will only be in-system for a few more days. There is some situation on Keshewan that requires their presence. Villeneuve has decided to break orbit with all due speed. Given this operational situation, the Fleet tender cannot remain, nor the magazine ships…"

  "We could cross-deck -" Kosho forced herself to silence, a brief expression of horror flitting across her face. Hadeishi felt his humor revive slightly. The number of times the Sho-sa had interrupted him in the last three years could be counted on one hand, perhaps on one finger.

  "I know. A hold-to-hold transfer from one of the Verdun-class magazine ships would take less than a day to resupply our entire manifest. It's not like we require a dreadnaught's loadout of shipkillers! Plamondon dismissed the suggestion. He implied they were on a tight schedule."

  The Sho-sa's upper lip twitched infinitesimally. Hadeishi almost smiled.

  "You have no idea, Susan. No idea. I should have been comm-threaded."

  "What do you mean?" Kosho seemed taken aback. "What else did he say?"

  "Very little. The Fleet captain had no time to speak with me. The dessert course was of far greater interest to him."

  "Dessert?"

  Hadeishi nodded, smoothing down his beard. "Thai-so Villeneuve was hosting the weekly Admiral's Dinner for his ship commanders – but you have never, ever seen something like this. Nearly a hundred officers, I would guess. A banquet! Everyone seemed to be very cheerful. The music was quite good…"

  "A party?" Kosho was fighting to hide open incredulity.

  "Yes. A very odd party. That is the most troubling thing." Hadeishi rubbed his eyes, then gave her a considering look. Susan Kosho had served as his executive officer for three years. During all that time she had been reliable, professional and sometimes impossibly calm. The Chu-sa had known from the first day she'd come aboard – back when they'd been on the old Ceatl – she was an eagle learning to fly down among the accipiters and falcons. He did not mind being a hawk, and took considerable quiet pride in lending this fledgling the benefit of his hard-won experience.

  Hadeishi knew he had some talent for command, a skill for finding the right course through the chaos of battle. He came alive when the alert klaxon sounded, when the ship shuddered into high-grav drive, when the shockframe crushed him into his command station. Out of the crucible, he was average, no more or less than any other captain serving in the Fleet. He would never earn the notice of his superiors, never gain a battlecruiser command. He had laid aside dreams of captaining a dreadnaught or a strike carrier years ago. There was more contentment to be found in his books, in his father's old musical recordings, in the quiet efficiency of the crew he'd built with such care.

  But Susan…she never discussed her family, clan, or lineage. But you cannothide the eagle forever among the hawks. Blood shows. Plumage becomes unmistakable in time. Then she would ascend into more rarified air, into the realms where she – Hadeishi was sure – had been born and raised. Where she belongs right now. Where…where she should have been months ago.

  Hadeishi struggled to keep his face politely composed.

  "Susan, we've been on frontier patrol for two years. This is the closest we've been to the core systems in all that time. While Plamondon might be…hasty, one of his adjutants was more forthcoming. There is a courier boat heading back to Toroson tomorrow. I think…you should be on that boat, using some of your leave time. See AnГЎhuac again, taste clean air. See your parents."

  Leave this poor old ship before my…foolishness…taints your record.

  The shadow on Kosho's forehead cut into a knife blade edge. She took the still-filled cup cradled in her hands and placed it very carefully on the table. Her lips thinned down to pale rose streaks. "Chu-sa, what troubled you about the Admiral's Dinner on the Tehuia? Is our ship in danger?"

  "I do not know." Hadeishi looked away, unable to meet her eyes. They were filled with concern. Sometimes the eagle forgets the mountain peaks, comes to believe it too is a hawk. What follows then? Calamity.

  "What did you see?" Kosho turned her wrist, activating her comm-band and preparing to call the bridge.

  "There is no danger at this moment, Sho-sa. Nothing overt." He motioned for her to turn off the band. "You won't take leave?"

  Kosho shook her head, straight, raven-black hair rustling across her shoulders.

  Very well. Hadeishi was sad to feel relief. Mitsuharu, you've become a selfish old man.

  "I sat to dinner with close to sixty captains. Many of them had brought their executive officers, aides, adjutants. Battle group 88 general staff were well represented, including the Admiral and his flag captains. In all those number, I do not believe I saw a single officer of rank who was not of European extraction. No Nisei, no Mйxica, no Mixtecs. A sea of pink faces and light hair. I cannot think such a thing happened by accident."

  Kosho sat back, openly troubled. "None of us? An entire squadron of gaijin dispatched to the Rim?"

  "And something else" – Hadeishi turned his cup around in his hand – "which worries me more, given our bitter experience of the last two years. None of the officers I spoke to – and truthfully, I did not have time to canvass them all – had served on the Rim before."

  "But…" Susan put her hands on her knees. "They've some combat experience? Somewhere? Against the Kroomakh? Or the Ma'hesht?"

  Hadeishi shook his head. "I don't know. It seemed not."

  "An entire squadron of inexperienced commanders? Without so much as a single Nisei or Mйxica commander among them?" Kosho stared at him in horror. "Who let that happen? Fleet would never do such a thing…" Her voice trailed off.

  "Something is going on," Hadeishi said, relieved to voice the fear plain in her face. "Fleet has to have arranged this. For a purpose."

  "Kyo…we're not making the jump to Keshewan with them, are we?" Susan's lips were turning white. "I'll tell Isoroku to disable to main drive – some kind of flux bottle failure – that should gain us a week at least. I can send a t-relay message…"

  Hadeishi raised a hand. He did not want to know who she planned to contact. Some radiant faces should remain hidden in the clouds.

  "No need." The Chu-sa squared his shoulders, hands on his knees. "We have new orders – to maintain station here at Jagan, in support of the 416th Arrow Knight motorized infantry regiment, which is being deployed groundside to 'protect Imperial interests.' I'm not sure Captain Plamondon realized he was doing us a favor. I gained the distinct impression he was pleased to get rid of us."

  Ha! He was horrified to be associated with me, even in such a distant capacity.

  Kosho started to breathe again. "Can he be so blind?"

  "Perhaps." Hadeishi shrugged. "The gaijin are happiest surrounded by their own people. Indeed…well, who am I to say what the Grand Duke Villeneuve thinks of all this? I am simply relieved our faithful old ship will not have to make another hyperspace transit before Isoroku can effect repairs."

  Kosho regained her usual imperturbable calm. She stiffened as if on report. "The engineering staff will review the repair schedules, Chu-sa. We have already found some sources of spare parts and repair materials. At least – at least – we will be able to replenish stores and non-recyclable goods."

  "Good." Hadeishi's eyes crinkled up in a tired smile. "And I can get some rest."

  "Hai, Chu-sa. We can all rest a little." Kosho stood, guessing her captain was near the end of his tether.

  Hadeishi felt as if the last microliter of strength had drained from him, but there was a
little taste of relief to come. Perhaps, he thought, I will get a chance to walk under the open sky, see a place I have not seen before. His eyes strayed to the door of his study. Perhaps they have music here I have never heard…

  "Oh, one matter has come up, Sho-sa." Hadeishi unfolded himself from the cushion and stepped to a working desk folded down from the wall. He picked up a cream-colored envelope and passed it to the Sho-sa, who took the letter, a little taken aback. "The ship has been tendered an invitation. To a party."

  Kosho opened the envelope, rubbing slick parchment between her fingertips. "This is real paper…" She turned opened the sheet inside, eyebrows rising to see a flowing hand in vibrant green ink. "My dear captain Hadeishi," she read. "I am entertaining the Imperial Prince Tezozуmoc, son of the Light of Heaven, long may he reign, at my estate in the suburbs of Parus on Thursday night. I would be delighted if you and some of your officers could attend. Grace of God, Mrs. Greta Hauksbee Petrel."

  Susan looked up, faintly alarmed. "There is an Imperial Prince here?!"

  Hadeishi put on a very strict face. "You are best suited for this task, Sho-sa Kosho. Take those junior officers who would benefit from rubbing elbows with the mighty and a security detachment of your choosing."

  "I am best suited?" Kosho's dark eyes flashed dangerously. "How so? Am I expected to make appropriate smalltalk with the Light of Heaven?"

  "You've training I lack, Susan." Hadeishi wondered if he'd pushed her a little too far. "And display a full dress uniform far better. Go on, Sho-sa. We've a great deal of work to do."

  Giving him another sharp look – not a glare, to be sure, but something close – Kosho bowed and left. Hadeishi sighed, rubbing his eyes again, and stumbled through the hatchway into his sleeping cabin. Yejin had turned down the coverlet on his tatami and set the lights on a steadily darkening sleep cycle. Faintly, a recording of waves breaking on the shore at Sasurigama played. A discerning ear could pick out the sound of branches creaking in the night wind.