House of Reeds

A Nondescript House On a Street of Trumpetvines, Central Parus

Skin stretched tight, a jittery hum tickling her spine, Itzpalicue settled into a nest of patterned quilts and v-pane displays. Thin trails of blood seeped down her chest, spouting like tiny serpents from pricks along her collarbone and breasts. The bitter taste of oliohuiqui burned on the back of her tongue and the Mйxica woman felt two steps removed from the quietly glowing panels. Lachlan's technicians had installed two large v-pane displays on either side of the bed.

Every window was shuttered – the putative owners of the house were on vacation, visiting the seaside temple of Tembanifar, way off in the south near Patala – and reinforced with ablative armor. One display held a string of palm-sized v-panes, showing feeds from cameras scattered through the house and grounds.

A motley company of Arachosians squatted or dozed in the garden, long reptilian heads hidden by embroidered traveling cloaks. Not one of the mercenaries was more than a hand's reach away from his weapons. Invisible against the smoggy sky, translucent spybugs drifted over the whole neighborhood, watching every passing cart and laundry boy. Inside, the downstairs rooms were empty save for lengths of armored cable descending into the tunnels under the old house. Three meters behind each window and door, 'pop-top' area saturation weapons stood on triangular stands, ready to erupt if anything burst uninvited into the ground floor.

Itzpalicue's wrinkled hands drifted across the displays and they sprang to life, filling with dozens of v-panes, showing telemetry from the orbiting Cornuelle, video from every native and Imperial groundside source, an overhead view of the Mirror operations center, even the bridge of the Flower Priest support ship Tepoztecatl.

"…thirty-five seconds to command conference call," Lachlan announced. In the background, his technicians were busy at work, examining and discarding datafeeds, winnowing out everything but the transmission streams from the Army cantonment at Sobipurй, the Legation in Parus and the Cornuelle high above. "Stand by to intercept."

The old Mйxica woman stretched her back, settled her haunches and thumbed up the three primary displays. A blank v-pane appeared in each, accompanied by secondary panes holding personal information, morphology data and a constellation of datastream adjustment controls. She started to slow her breathing in preparation for a sustained burst of activity.

"Legation secure comm is up," Lachlan reported and the leftmost display shimmered. "Matching feed, slipstreaming…now." The face ofa diplomatic service communications tech appeared to Itzpalicue's left for a moment as the man adjusted the comm set in a well-appointed office and stepped away. Legate Petrel sat down, stubbed out a thin cigar and leaned back, waiting for the other members of the conference call to come on-line.

"Running morphology check now…" Lachlan's voice was a constant, steadywhisper in Itzpalicue's ear. "Heart rate slightly up, eye-blink rate normal, breathing normal…tension index is moderate. He's having a good morning – the missus must have sent him off to work right."

That was not helpful of Greta, Itzpalicue thought in amusement. He needs to be irritated.

"Delay conference interconnect by one minute," she ordered Lachlan through her submike. "Push disturbance report series one through Legation."

The other two panes began to shimmer as Fleet and Army secure comm registered on the Imperial network. Itzpalicue let her awareness lose discrete focus, taking in the appearance of all three men at once. Both Hadeishi in orbit and Yacatolli at the Sobipurй base showed minute and welcome signs of tension. They waited patiently while the conference call synchronized.

"Legation push complete." Lachlan came back on-line. "Routing delay for tri-connect stands at thirty seconds."

Legate Petrel looked aside as an aide leaned in, whispering urgently, a sheaf of dispatch reports clutched in his hand. Itzpalicue spent the extra ten seconds the delay gained them thumbing up the latest pause-counts for Yacatolli and Hadeishi. The Fleet officer's numbers made her frown.

Fleet and Army secure comm was routinely compromised by the Mirror in the name of state security. Lachlan's technicians had been busy for the past week capturing every comm stream generated by the three men waiting for the conference call. From this data, an array of Mirror comps had been building voice-delay patterns from intercepts of Hadeishi and Yacatolli in conversation. Luckily for Itzpalicue's purposes, the normal flow of human conversation was filled with innumerable silent pauses, gaps, filler sounds like uh, and misspoken, repeated words. Not all minds processed data at the same rate. A distinctly measurable response time dragged between exposure to new data and the mind's concious response.

Chu-sa Hadeishi's recent medical records indicated the long patrol voyage had worn down his body – immune counts were off, fatigue was up, muscular degeneration was apparent, reflexes had slowed – but his mind seemed to have been honed to a distressing keenness. His pause-count was quite low. The old Mйxica woman's fingers danced across the panels, shifting comp attention to the Chu-sa's datastream. Every microsecond will count.

"Connect in three…two…one." A solid green bar outlined each v-pane.

Itzpalicue let her mind release from conscious concentration, hands poised over the display controls.

"Our meeting has particular import this morning," Petrel announced without preamble as soon as the images of the Fleet captain and the Army colonel appeared on his display. He raised one of the sheets of paper in his hand. "Disturbing news arrived here only moments ago – news I doubt has reached the public networks. There has been an attack on a bus terminal in Bandopene on the upper Phison. Sixteen Jehanan were killed outright and dozens more severely injured. Local militia drove the attackers off, but suffered two wounded themselves."

Hadeishi's image frowned, but the Fleet commander waited silently.

Colonel Yacatolli was more abrupt in his response. "How does this concern us, Legate? There is inter-factional strife among the slicks on a daily basis."

"There is," the Legate replied. "The target of this attack, however, was a bus owned by Apaxis Transport Company, not the passengers. Apaxis uses imported vehicles of Imperial make – in this case, a Mitsubishi Zo-model seating sixty passengers – and the company is human owned. An Apaxis factor present in Bandopene believes the attacking gang was composed mostly of Jehanan working in the employ of rival transport companies."

"Imperial-made vehicles have a competitive advantage?" Hadeishi's voice was curious and entirely without the affront already present in the Army officer's. "They would inspire jealousy?"

"They do," Petrel said, pursing his lips. "They are very expensive by local standards. Only a company with Imperial investment capital available could reasonably afford one or more such vehicles. Apaxis owns twelve such buses."

Hadeishi nodded in understanding. "Quite aggravating to their competitors."

"This is not the first such attack." Petrel raised the sheaf of papers. "My aides have been culling the last several weeks' news reports. There have been nearly thirty such incidents."

"No one noticed this before?" The colonel interjected, surprised. "Weren't they reported?"

Itzpalicue moved – her hands a blur, and the two comps under the bed cycled fully awake.

No one noticed this before? Yacatolli said scornfully on both other channels. Wasn't anyone paying attention?

"Of course they were!" Petrel stiffened slightly in his chair. "We keep a close watch on everything occurring within the mandate – but none of these other attacks were against a company holding an Imperial charter!"

The old woman dialed up an undercurrent of scorn in the datastream carrying the Legate's voice to Yacatolli's headquarters. The physiology readouts for both men twitched upwards nicely.

"There was no reason to notice," Hadeishi said, very diplomatically. "Shuchiji Petrel, do you believe this is part of a larger pattern, or simply a series of localized disturbances?"

"I am concerned," Petrel said. "There is palpable tension growing between those who support the presence of the Empire and those who do not…as we all saw at the reception the other night. The natural rivalry between the Jehanan princes is both suppressed by our military presence and exacerbated by the influx of new wealth into Parus and Fehrupurй."

Yacatolli laughed, tapping the side of his nose. "You mean – the kujenai of Gandaris and Patala and Takshila have lost control of the trade monopolies which made them rich…"

Petrel nodded approvingly, pleased by the officer's grasp of the local situation.

And Itzpalicue's swift fingers made the colonel see a condescending smile.

"Even so." Sneer. "The great cities of the middle Phison – Fehrupurй and Parus – control vast populations and agricultural wealth, but they were starving for metal, timber and raw materials to fuel local industry. Their worked goods – textiles, machined parts, and ceramics – had to leave the local economy via the sea at Patala or by caravan via Gandaris. So things were in tenuous balance."

"But now," Yacatolli interjected, eyes narrowed in irritation, "we've put a spaceport right between them at Sobipurй, and a whole new economy is booming under our protective shield. Do you believe the outland kujen are preparing to move against Parus?"

"No…" Petrel frowned, showing concern. "But there are persistent rumors…"

No, the Legate said confidently on the 'cast feed, though there are always rumors…

"…of intrigues and plots and mutinies." Petrel shook his head in dismay. "These princes are a nest of snakes. I don't trust them out of my sight."

…and they rarely prove true. The Legate shook his head dismissively. Jumped up thieves and robber-barons, every one of them. I don't trust them out of my sight.

"What do we need to do, then?" Hadeishi stepped into a momentary lull. "If there is a spate of anti-Imperial violence, can the local authorities handle matters, or should the Army?"

Itzpalicue's lips twisted into a grin, a soft green glow shining on her teeth.

What should we do, then? The Fleet captain's troubled voice fled across the datastream. If there is more anti-Imperial violence, can the local authorities handle matters?

"This is Imperial business!" Yacatolli stiffened in his seat and glared openly at Hadeishi. "Our treaties with the lords of the Phison are very clear – attacks on Imperial citizens will be handled by Imperial courts under Imperial law!"

"True…" Hadeishi started to reply, and Itzpalicue stalled the feed – only for a second or two – drawing the Army colonel naturally into the pause. Unbidden, Lachlan – who was watching the conversation on his own relay – kicked up facial manipulation on the Fleet captain's appearance, making the Nisei officer look slightly worried.

"I understand," Yacatolli said in a stiff voice, "Chu-sa Hadeishi fears for the ability of Fleet to protect Imperial interests on Jagan – he's made clear his ship's readiness is far below par. But the 416th has more than enough fire power to police the entire valley of the Phison if need be."

Hadeishi's physiological index crept up a point. Itzpalicue released the delay.

"True," said the captain. "Yet – Legate, are there Imperial courts in operation on Jagan?"

Petrel shook his head. "Not enough to deal with this level of brigandage. There is a circuit court here in Parus and small claims at the spaceport in Sobipurй." He smiled wryly. "Mostly to deal with crew from merchant ships in port."

Hadeishi heard…crew from Fleet ships on leave.

Yacatolli heard…off-duty soldiers from the cantonment.

Both indexes jumped a point and a half while the Legate continued to speak. Itzpalicue felt a singing rush of adrenaline replace the stretched-tight feeling induced by the morning glory extract melting under her tongue. Everything slowed – even the voices of the men arguing – and infinite silences swelled between their words. Plenty of time for her to shift and shade and replace meaning and intent as needed.

"…so we've little choice," Petrel said in a considering tone, "but to use the local constabulary and judiciary to apprehend and try any Jehanan citizens who attack Imperial businesses."

"And if they attack Imperial citizens directly? If they murder someone?" The Army colonel fought to keep his temper on a short rein. "What then?"

Petrel raised a hand, his voice sharp. "Then we will need to try them ourselves – with the assistance and cooperation of the local authorities!"

"That won't work," Yacatolli said flatly. "You can't trust the slicks to turn one of their own over to our courts. That never works! You'll need my men to make the arrests." He glanced briefly at Hadeishi. "And we'll handle groundside transport ourselves."

Hadeishi saw a contemptuous sneer on his v-feed and stiffened at the insult.

"My shuttles can render any prisoner transport you might need," the Chu-sa replied icily. "Is there a suitable holding facility at Sobipurй?"

…are you sure you can keep them penned up at Sobipurй?

"Are you sure?" Yacatolli replied, not bothering to mask his irritation. "Aren't all of your shuttles behind schedule for maintenance and overhaul? I wouldn't want to risk the lives of any prisoners…"

"Enough!" Petrel's voice rose sharply. "Colonel, I am well aware of the reduced capacity of the Cornuelle at this time, but Fleet will do their duty and provide all the fire support and air cover you might need. This dispute is pointless. In any case, the 416th outmatches any force the local princes can put into the field, much less whatever thugs or brigands the local merchant guilds can hire. We are not faced with open war. We have a law-enforcement problem. We will treat itas such."

Both military commanders nodded, but both seemed resentful to Petrel. The Legate tried not to sigh openly at their stubbornness. "Colonel – you've already forwarded me an operations plan in case of a general uprising in the cities along the Phison. I would like you to work up – in cooperation with Fleet – an alternative deployment for your forces, so they can respond rapidly and effectively to these isolated attacks, should they escalate."

Both Hadeishi and Yacatolli heard: prepare a distributed deployment for the 416th, to respond rapidly and effectively to these isolated attacks, should they escalate.

"Petrel-tzin!" Hadeishi was alarmed. "Shouldn't part of the regiment be held in reserve at Sobipurй? What if there is a general uprising?"

But the Legate and Yacatolli heard only, shouldn't the regiment be held at Sobipurй against a general uprising?

"Such an event is quite unlikely, Chu-sa Hadeishi," Petrel started to say, but Yacatolli's response drowned his out.

"We needn't hide! A single arrow of my men could smash an entire division of slick cavalry – riding lizards, lances and all – much less these mobs of spearmen in quilted armor. We'll hold a proper reserve in case they spring something surprising on us – but otherwise, I can have ready-reaction teams in every provincial center within the week."

But the Chu-sa heard nothing of a reserve, only ready-reaction teams in every provincial center within the week. Yacatolli's intransigence was clear and easy to read in his face.

Hadeishi hid a grimace and raised his hands in acceptance. "Very well."

"Good." Petrel made a quiet, personal decision not to talk to both military commanders at the same time again. "It's settled. Good day, gentlemen."

The three v-panes flickered dark. Itzpalicue felt something like a physical shock, coming out of the elevated state of awareness induced by carefully applied pain and the oliohuiqui coursing through her system. A trembling hand brushed across the displays and the whole system began to shut down.

Beneath the bed, her two comps returned their attention to scanning and filtering the wireless voice traffic flooding the air over Parus. The old Mйxica woman had set them to winnowing the chatter for hints and signs of her hidden enemy.

She slumped back on the bed, staring at the shadowy ceiling, exhausted and spent.

Her back teeth were humming.

For a moment, she felt young again.