House of Reeds

The Cornuelle In Orbit Over Jagan

Two message-waiting glyphs – one from Engineering and one from Sho-i Smith – winked to life on Chu-sa Hadeishi's command display. As the communications officer had been ordered off the bridge, Hadeishi pointedly ignored the call from Engineering and thumbed open a comm pane to the junior officer's quarters.

The v-pane unfolded, revealing Smith – still in uniform, sweat-stained collar undone – sitting in the cramped workspace created by folding a JOQ rack into the bulkhead. Hadeishi could see Three-Jaguar lying on the bunk overhead, eyes half-lidded as she listened to a signal feed on a set of old-style headphones. A command-class comp was jammed in with her – a feat only possible because the Tlaxcalan woman was petite enough to fit sideways into a Fleet sleeping rack – and the display was alive with analysis diagrams and data flow patterns.

"Yes, Smith-tzin?" The Chu-sa kept his voice level, though he was irritated with the boy. Junior officers are supposed to sleep whenever they can, Hadeishi thought very piously, not stay up working late.

"Kyo, we've managed to trace most of this off-band encrypted traffic through the local comm networks. There is a locus and it's in orbit."

"Coordinates?" Hadeishi raised an eyebrow in interest. "A ship or a satellite?"

Smith punched the descriptors directly to the threatwell on the bridge of the Cornuelle. One of the heavy merchant ship icons shown on orbital path flared amber and acquired a targeting outline. The Chu-sa considered the shipping registry data on his sidepane.

"The Tepoztecatl…Six months outbound from Old Mars. Interesting…registration is up to date, port taxes paid, customs seals intact. Logs show daily shuttle traffic to the surface – expensive." Hadeishi brought up the secondary comm traffic data the two junior officers had collected and his face stiffened into impassive, glacial surprise. "This is an enormous volume of traffic… What arethey doing?"

"Video feeds, kyo." Smith glanced up. Jaguar nodded in agreement, eyes now open and following the conversation. She'd pulled the headphone away from one ear. "We haven't been able to crack their encryption, but the volume of data is so large they can only be passing realtime video from some kind of surveillance array on the planet back to the ship."

"Video? You mean they're processing intercepts from a fleet of spyeyes?"

Smith and Jaguar nodded. "There are hundreds of active comm channels in the traffic volume, and we think each one is a discrete camera. And, kyo, look at the source distribution…"

A map of the northern part of continent four unfolded on Hadeishi's command display. An orbital track designator appeared, showing the location of the Tepoztecatl, while clouds of brilliant points emerged on the map, clustering heavily in the large cities, but also liberally dusting the countryside.

"This covers every locale of size from Patala to Gandaris," the Chu-sa said in a thoughtful voice. He paused. "This level of coverage must be enormously expensive to deploy and maintain." Hadeishi glanced at the two officers. "Could we deploy this kind of network?"

Jaguar shook her head. Smith shrugged. "We've got spyeyes for the Marine combat teams and some extras for shuttle security and surveillance, plus spares, which gives us twenty. This network on the planet has – at last count from the data-stream – almost a thousand in operation."

"Then they're not documentary filmmakers," the Chu-sa said in a dry voice. He was beginning to get a tickling feeling on his neck. This sounds familiar, but where… "What else do we know about this freighter? Have they had any conversations with traffic control?"

"Minimal contact with traffic control," Smith answered. "All their transponder codes are squared away and they haven't moved orbit other than station-keeping burns. They seem to have four different shuttles aboard – or so Hayes-tzin guesses from their drive-flare signatures." Jaguar reached over Smith's shoulder and tapped up something on his panel. The Sho-i nodded, watching the feed come up. "Here, kyo – we shot some video of them as well – just to make sure we were tracking the data-stream properly."

A hand-sized v-pane appeared on Hadeishi's display, showing the long cylindrical shape of the Tepoztecatl with an edge of Jagan in-frame. The view panned, showing that nearly a quarter of the surface was covered with antennas and comm relay receptors. The Chu-sa grunted, not terribly surprised. "Looks like a Nightingale-class emissions collection frigate…" Then he squinted in interest at the display. Hadeishi tapped the 'magnify' glyph twice and then slid his finger back along the time-in-spool indicator. From a distance, the freighter seemed stationary, but the close-up revealed the cargo and habitat pods behind the screen of communications equipment were spinning.

"They've got spin up throughout the whole ship," the Chu-sa said, mostly to himself. "Why would they need gravity in all those cargo areas…" His eyes flicked back to the side-panel with ship registry information. "Manifest shows a crew of sixteen, but radiated heat load is high…"

Hadeishi's expression suddenly changed, a keen light coming into his eyes and the corners of his thin lips tightening. "Comp," he said to the command interface in his comm-thread. "Dictionary lookup, source, Tepoztecatl."

Tepoztecatl is one of the Four Hundred Rabbits, ship's main comp replied in a grandmotherly voice. The Four Hundred are the gods of the pulque , of drunkenness, of fertility. They are the consorts of Mayahuel, the goddess of the maguey, who is a mask-avatar of Xochiquetzal – Precious Flower – the goddess of spring.

"Precious Flower?" Hadeishi frowned, still trying to capture a half-remembered anecdote overheard in a Fleet transit bar. Then the furrow in his brow cleared and he snarled, making both Smith and Jaguar flinch in alarm. "She is the historical patron of the xochiyaotinime!"

"The xochi-who?" Smith asked, confused. At the same moment Jaguar blurted: "The priests of the Flowery War? But they're just military archivists…"

"No, they certainly are not!" Hadeishi's hand jerked towards the 'battle-stations' glyph at the top of his command panel, then he mastered himself. Haste will only lead to disaster, he thought, reminding himself of the repairs underway on nearly every deck. We are not in any condition to rush to combat alert. The freighter is a fellow Imperial vessel, mis-flagged as it may be, and deserving of some courtesy – not a hostile target!

"They're not?" Jaguar's voice brought his attention back to the two junior officers. "Don't they put on the historical pageants and mock battles at TeotihuacГЎn for Emperor's Day? The ones with everyone dressed in the old costumes and armor made of feathers?"

"They do," Hadeishi allowed, his burst of emotion suppressed. His voice chilled noticeably. "Though they serve the Empire in other ways as well." And if they are here, on Jagan, in pursuit of a flowery war with the natives…then I may lose my command for gross incompetence. We are not ready for battle. The tight feeling in his neck increased. "You two, take a knock me out timed for six hours. I need you back on the bridge, rested and refreshed, as quickly as possible."

Without waiting for a reply, Hadeishi brushed away the open channel and punched up Thai-i Huйmac's comm. The fresh v-pane flickered and then revealed the copper-skinned Marine officer in the number two armory, high cheekbones sheened with sweat, and a towel around his neck.

"Huйmac h -"

"Disposition of your men," Hadeishi snapped before the lieutenant could say anything more.

"Ready squad in boat bay one, kyo, with the combat shuttle." The Marine's response was instantaneous. "Squad two is groundside with Sho-sa Kosho at the Sobipurй maintenance yards. Squad three is dispersed on-leave groundside."

The Chu-sa drummed his fingers on the side of his command panel. This is what quicksand feels like, he realized. A third of the crew are off-ship, my exec is twelve hours away, and my only reserve troops need to stay in reserve.

"Thai-i, I need two of your men in z-g combat armor and a launch prepped for a foray in orbit," he said, forcing himself to calm down. "Comm everyone groundside and order them back to the ship with all speed. If they aren't near a shuttle, they should immediately proceed to the Sobipurй spaceport or the Legation cantonment in Parus. We are not at combat stations, but a situation is developing groundside and I think we'll need all hands aboard within the day."

"Hai, kyo!" Huйmac's response was professionally brisk, but Hadeishi could see a hundred questions poised to spring to the man's lips. The Chu-sa nodded and thumbed the channel closed. He turned in his command chair, fixing the duty officer with a cold stare.

"Hayes-tzin, shift our orbit to pass over Sobipurй. Squirt the shuttles on the ground with our new vector. I want those crews back aboard as quickly as possible, so let's keep them from wasting too much time in transit."

The weapons officer nodded and began tapping course corrections into the ship's helm.

Hadeishi, in turn, thumbed the still-winking comm request from Isoroku alive.

"Engin -"

"We are no more than four hours from battle stations," Hadeishi interrupted. "Prepare all compartments for combat acceleration. Shut down all repair activities, stow your materials and prep your teams to assist Medical in handling wounded. Do you understand?"

Isoroku nodded, eyes wide, and Hadeishi closed the channel. Sourly, he looked around the bridge, where everyone was suddenly very busy. The murmur of voices on comm was noticeably sharper. His mood improved by the sight, the Chu-sa tapped open an all-department-heads channel.

"This is the Chu-sa. Be aware hostilities are imminent on the surface of Jagan. Prepare to go to combat acceleration and conditions in no more than four, repeat four, hours. We will be providing orbital fire-support for the Army against native military elements." And whatever other surprises the Flowery Priests have devised for their 'training exercise'!

Hadeishi hid an involuntary grin – the sharp, crystalline feeling of incipient combat was stealing over him – and all the tedium of handling repairs and resupply banished instantly. He tapped up groundside comm to Sho-sa Kosho, then waited for the channel to clear through the usual routing static.

Waves of heat rippled across the tarmac at Sobipurй, hiding the sprawling shantytown beyond the edge of the spaceport behind a wall of shimmering haze. Susan Kosho turned away from the window of the repair depot quartermaster's office and pressed a hand over her earbug, trying to hear Hadeishi clearly. A faint sheen of sweat made her forehead glisten. Outside, a shuttle was warming up for takeoff and the roar of its engines was making the building tremble and obliterating any chance of conversation.

…ship on ready-alert. You need to get everyone back into orbit. If you can't make lift from Sobipurй, relocate to the Legation in Parus and we'll extract you from there.

"Kyo? What's going on? What's the situation?"

The shuttle engines throttled back, and the office – a dingy room with walls covered with tacked-up posters and damp manifests – swelled with the chatter of conversation, the chiming of comms and the ozone-stink of comp equipment running hot in dreadful humidity. Kosho peered out the window, wondering where Helsdon and his scavengers had gotten to. The captain's voice on her comm had the particularly sharp quality she associated with their ship plunging into combat.

We're dropping orbit, the Chu-sa's voice continued, each word crisp, to reduce your lift time back to the ship and to provide fire-support for the regiment. Hayes will handle outbound traffic control through the bombardment path. Make sure you -

"Chu-sa?" Kosho tapped her earbug in irritation. Some kind of interference had flooded the channel. There was a warbling squeal for a moment, and then Hadeishi's voice popped back, perfectly clear.

– can you hear me?

"Hai, kyo. The channel went out for a moment." Susan palmed her comp out and thumbed up the local locator grid, hoping everyone was in range. "Should I evac just ship's crew, or everyone at Sobipurй?"

Just our crew, Hadeishi said, after a brief pause. We need the shuttles back in orbit so we can provide medevac for the 416th. I've learned the -

The comm dropped out again, just for a fraction of a second, but Kosho caught the missing beat in her captain's voice rhythm. Puzzled, she cleared away the locator grid and thumbed up a diagnostic on her shipsuit comm.

– natives are preparing to rise against the Imperial presence. So I want all of you safe in orbit as quickly as possible.

"Understood…" Susan stared at her comp, where the diagnostic display was showing an unaccountable lag in the transmit/receive time between her and the ship. The Sho-sa turned to the corporal who had been trying to help her round up sixty tons of raw protein for the shipboard recyclers. "O'Reilly-tzin, can you bring up the orbital traffic control plot on your comp?"

"Of course, ma'am." The quartermaster's aide pushed a pair of antique spectacles back on his nose and pudgy fingers danced across his comp display. "Here…"

Susan craned her neck to check the position plot on the display, found it matched the one on her handheld, and her nostrils flared in puzzlement. The ship has not moved a million kilometers away from me in the last minute and a half. What could be throwing this kind of delay in the comm channel? Is the network relay failing?

"Captain," she said slowly, paging through the rest of the diagnostics provided by her comp. An obscure screen holding network routing information caught her eye. "I've an entire squad down here, as well as Helsdon and his technicians. Should we reinforce the landing field perimeter? What do you want me to do if the comm net goes dark?"

If you lose comm, Hadeishi said, then collect everyone groundside. Third squad is on leave in Parus. We don't want to leave them hanging – not like at Forochel. I trust your judgment.

Susan nodded and squared her shoulders. The Forochel exercise posited a failure of inter-unit comm due to a precedence dispute among Fleet commanders of equal rank. All subordinate commanders were expected to maintain their heading and unit cohesion while a unity of authority was re-established. The Sho-sa felt herself become very calm. "Understood. Kosho, out."

Then she jammed her thumb down on the all-units channel. "Kosho to all Cornuelle personnel groundside, we've been recalled to the ship with all haste. Return to the shuttle immediately and prepare for lift. Repeat, return to the shuttle immediately."

A babble of voices filled her comm as the Marines and technicians checked in. Only Helsdon was more than ten minutes from their shuttle. Kosho frowned, realizing the master machinist's mate must be overseeing loading of the replacement power supplies Isoroku had bartered for. She tapped up Felix, who was standing by at the shuttle itself.

"Heicho, go get Helsdon and his techs – they're at the Imperial Development Board warehouse – if they've got everything on the lifter, bring it with you, but if not, leave the supplies in place and get those technicians back to the shuttle in one piece."

Hai, kyo ! The corporal signed off. In the ensuing pause, Susan realized the quartermaster's office had fallen silent. She turned, one eyebrow raised, and found all of the clerks staring at her with wide eyes.

"Yes?" The Sho-sa groaned inwardly. All of the personnel in the room were Fleet – but not crewmen from the Cornuelle. Sobipurй was a Fleet installation, but not attached to a specific ship, being staffed by crew seconded from battle group 88's general staff pool. "Where is your commanding officer?"

"In Parus," O'Reilly squeaked, pale round face sheened with sweat, "arguing with the staff liaison of the 416th about acquiring more surface transport for resupplying the squads operating in the field… Are we going to be attacked?"

"I have no idea," Kosho said bluntly, counting heads. "Who is responsible for perimeter security for the landing field? Do you have an evacuation shuttle assigned? Someplace secure to go?"

O'Reilly swallowed, one finger picking nervously at his collar. "D-Company was handling fence patrols and keeping the slicks from picking through the rubbish tip, but they were reassigned to secure the highway and rail-line north to Parus."

Susan stared coolly at the corporal. "And now?"

"Now…the kujen of Fehrupurй sent a brigade of lancers. They're encamped over at the east end of landing strip two…near the customs shed. I heard they were only temporary, until a company from 2nd brigade arrived to take over, but they won't be here until next week…"

Kosho nodded, hiding her horror at the prospect of the entire Fleet landing field having no security at all if the wrong princeling had secured the assignment.

"And your shuttle?"

"Hangar two," O'Reilly replied, his voice rather faint.

She started to tap open a comm channel to Felix, then paused, staring intently at the comp in her hand. Something is delaying our comm, she thought, reading through the routing details. This looks like the entire military net is being relayed through a location far out in space. She keyed a series of commands into her suit comm, then squirted a reset code to every Fleet comm within range.

Sixteen devices in the quartermaster's office beeped simultaneously, startling the already edgy clerks, and then reset.

"We're in local point-to-point mode," Kosho announced briskly, "in case the nearest relay is damaged by enemy action. You men, pack up this office, pull your comps, flashbox any hardcopy and get to your shuttle as fast as possible. O'Reilly-tzin, you're in charge. Our shuttle is in hangar number six. Comm me when you're ready to lift – we'll go in sequence and relocate to the ship."

"Yes, ma'am!" the corporal said, weak-kneed with relief he wouldn't be abandoned.

Susan spun on her heel and banged out the door, taking the steps down to the searingly hot concrete two at a time. She started running towards the looming row of hangars, her armor activated, safety off of her pistol, a locator grid now showing in eye-view on her combat visor. Her temperature regulators immediately began complaining.

"Felix." Kosho cleared a channel to the Heicho. "Forget the repair supplies – we've no cover out here; an unknown force is handling fence security – just grab Helsdon and get back to the shuttle. Do not assume any native troops you encounter are friendly."

The Sho-sa heard Felix acknowledge, then swerved to use a warehouse for cover as she approached a road cutting across the base. She could hear a distant rumbling to the north. Clouds were busy gathering for the afternoon thunderstorms, but had not yet built up enough to deluge the landing field with a torrent of greasy, warm rain.

Hadeishi slid into the passenger's side of the captain's launch and let the shockchair fold around him, mating on-board environmental to his z-suit and hooking his comm into the launch relay. The forward window showed twin boat bay doors recessing, revealing a widening slice of abyssal darkness. A ring of landing guide lights flared to brilliance and the chatter of the bay traffic officer and Sho-i Asale negotiating undock and departure filled his earbug.

"Captain's launch is away," Asale said briskly, and the ship's boat puffed free of its cradle and swept through the bay doors with steady grace. "Outbound to make intercept with traffic control orbit ninety-six, freighter Tepoztecatl." The pilot turned slightly, inclining her head towards the Chu-sa. "Time to match velo and orbit is four hours, kyo."

Hadeishi's eyes narrowed, displeased. "I'm in a hurry, Sho-i. Don't hold back on my account."

The pilot's dark brown eyes widened in delight. "Orbital traffic control regulations say I should -"

"The faster you get us there, Sho-i, the happier I will be." Hadeishi tapped his shockwebbing. "Everyone's in-harness."

"Yes, sir!" Asale toggled off the thrust regulators and checked her distance from the nearly invisible shape of the Cornuelle. "Fitz, Deckard, you strapped in back there?"

"Hai…" Marine gunso Fitzsimmons answered with a grumble. "I just had lunch…"

The cocoa-skinned pilot shook her head in amusement, then twisted her control yoke all the way forward. The pair of Ventris Aerosystems thrusters at the heart of the launch flared sun-bright and Hadeishi felt a kyojin's heavy, heavy hand crush his chest. The launch leapt forward, spaceframe groaning, and there was a muttered curse from the passenger compartment.

"Forty-five minutes to intercept," the pilot reported cheerfully, letting her boat cut loose. Hadeishi could see the planet begin to swell ahead. The Tepoztecatl was in a lower orbit than the Fleet warship on overwatch. Scattered satellites and a lone merchantman sparked on the navigational plot. Most of the face of Jagan was wreathed in cloud. A huge storm system was gathering in the southern ocean.

The Chu-sa listened to Hayes with one ear, keeping track of the Cornuelle's maneuvering burn. After he was satisfied nothing had gone wrong aboard and the cruiser was on the proper heading, he cleared his display of the Navplot and tapped up a communications relay interface.

Now, he thought, steeling himself, we will see if a little truth can be sifted from all this deception.

His earbug went silent and Hadeishi keyed the traffic control channel to the merchantman alive. "Cornuelle to the registered Imperial freighter Tepoztecatl, come in please. This is a priority call to…" He glanced at the registry information. "…Captain Chimalpahin."

The channel popped alive with gratifying speed and the face of an irritated-looking, elderly NГЎhuatl with very long black-and-gray hair appeared in a fresh v-pane.

This is Chimalpahin.

"Hadeishi of the Cornuelle here, I am inbound to match your orbit. We have some matters to discuss face-to-face."

The man's expression twisted into intense annoyance. Captain…this is not a good time for a social visit. In a day or two, I would be happy to meet you on the Cornuelle and we can discuss whatever you wish.

"I am on my way now," Hadeishi said. "You will allow me aboard your ship and you will explain to me exactly what you and your fellow priests are doing here."

We are about the Emperor's business, Chimalpahin said in a patient tone, as I'm sure you guess. So – shouldn't you be with your command? There will be work for you soon.

"Yes, I expect there will be 'work' for us within the day, or at most the week." The Chu-sa's tone cooled. "And Imperial starmen and soldiers will die because you've arranged a 'live training exercise' for them – without informing Yacatolli, the Resident or myself of your presence or your purpose."

The corners of Chimalpahin's small mouth twitched in amusement. Go back to your ship, Hadeishi. Yours is an honorable role, do not dishonor the Fleet by taking our business personally. Just do your duty.

"My duty," the Chu-sa bit out, "is to secure the common peace, police mercantile traffic and enforce the will of the Emperor. At present, I have every reason to believe you and your companions are actively seeking to destabilize the situation on Jagan and place every single Imperial citizen on the planet in danger – citizens I am oath-bound to protect."

Asale reached over and tapped Hadeishi's display. A time-to-intercept counter was ticking relentlessly, showing ten minutes to deceleration. At the same time, the freighter captain's nose crinkled up in a mocking sneer.

Are you intending to arrest us? Impound our ship? Clap us in chains?

"In approximately fifty minutes," Hadeishi said, fighting to remain calm, "you will be showing me your identification, Imperial writ and other authorities proving you are, in fact, executing the Emperor's Will in this matter. If I am satisfied -"

Satisfied? Chimalpahin interrupted, face blushing coppery red. We are not beholden to Fleet! Our authority far exceeds yours, particularly in these matters! The Admiralty will severely reprimand you for interfering, Hadeishi, and your career -

"If I am not satisfied, Captain," the Chu-sa snapped, "then my Marines will storm and seize your vessel and you will be put in shock restraints until this matter is sorted out! As for your authority, I have yet to see any proof you are more than saboteurs, agitators and insurrectionists." He paused, trying to remain impassive. "Fleet reaction protocol to revolt is quite clear. How am I to know – despite your noble face – you are not a pack of HKV operatives, or a Danish volkscommando conspiring with native elements?"

The comm channel suddenly cut out, much to Hadeishi's surprise, and then popped back in. Chimalpahin seemed taken aback, staring off the edge of his v-pickup. The Chu-sa – feeling unaccountably wary – glanced at the comm channel status information and was perplexed to see no warnings indicating a lost relay or network problem.

"What was that?" Hadeishi growled. "Are you showing a secure comm connection on your end?"

Yes… The freighter captain stared at his panel in alarm. Then he looked up, his expression ashen. Return to your ship immediately, Captain. We can meet socially on another day.

The channel went dead.

"Five minutes to deceleration. Forty minutes to intercept," Asale said quietly, watching her commander's stonelike face with concern. "Should I turn around?"

"No…" Hadeishi switched comm to the bridge channel on the Cornuelle. "Hayes-tzin, are we suffering some kind of comm interference? I just lost channel with the Tepoztecatl in mid-sentence."

No, sir. Everything here shows green. Should we run a system check?

The Chu-sa tapped one knuckle thoughtfully against the faceplate of his helmet. "Something odd is happening with comm. If Isoroku has a moment, have him check the relays and master nodes for interference, degraded comp function, anything at all."

Hayes signed off and Hadeishi nodded to the pilot. "Proceed."

I'm going to need something solid out of this priest, he thought, fighting imminent melancholy. The faces of Kosho and Hayes and Isoroku and even midshipman Smith were clear in his mind's eye. To save their careers. Otherwise, every indication will point to incompetence on my part and complicity on theirs. And they will be dragged down with me.

Hadeishi felt certain Fleet Command had been apprised of his slow return to Imperial space. A black mark has been set beside my name, against the Cornuelle 's record, an admonitory note for every officer serving with me. And with no patrons to offset my…refusal…to obey orders, my old ship becomes expendable. An honorable sacrifice to cover some political game played out by the xochiyaotinime. Her brave heart spared the wrecking yard…

He started to feel very bitter and forced himself to think of something else, something beyond the faceless hand which placed his ship and crew in danger of disgrace. The first words which popped into his consciousness were very old, a fragment he'd seen on a moss-covered tombstone in the old temple grounds at Joriku, on the western side of Shinedo city, overlooking the Chumash Sound.

A noteless tune fills the void:

spring sun, snow whiteness, bright clouds…

clear wind.

He grunted, feeling entirely helpless, trapped in a tight, confining suit in a tiny bubble of air, light and power speeding through limitless darkness towards an uncertain welcome. A death poem. But whose? Mine?

Heicho Felix grunted, feeling the strain in her upper back, and heaved a packing crate onto the back of the groundtruck her squad had commandeered. Helsdon and one of his technicians grabbed hold on the other side and shoved the heavy package against the sidewall.

"That's the next to last," a man in an Imperial Development Board jumper yelled, scrambling up onto the truck. Felix turned, jammed ink-black hair back behind her ears, and saw two of her troopers struggling to carry the last crate out of the warehouse.

"Leave it," she snarled, listening to a steadily increasing level of panicky chatter on the all-hands channel serving the Imperial installations around the periphery of the landing field. "We've got to get to the shuttle. Let's go!"

Ignoring her, both men staggered up, then tipped the crate onto the rear lip of the truck bed. Cursing, Felix joined in, pushing for all she was worth. The vehicle groaned, settling on its springs, and then complained bitterly as all three troopers swarmed aboard. Helsdon ignored them, concentrating on throwing tiedowns around the cargo and punching the liftgate control. The Heicho clicked over to the squad channel.

"Drive," she barked, swinging her Macana around to point out the back of the truck. The corporal in the forward cabin fired up the big engine, threw the vehicle into gear and they jounced out of the cargo yard behind the warehouses in a cloud of fresh dust. Felix swayed, caught herself, then braced one armored foot against the metal-reinforced crate squatting between her and the machinist's mate.

"What is all this stuff?" she asked, dark brown eyes wary, as the truck turned out onto the ring-road surrounding the number two landing strip. The driver jammed on the accelerator and they raced down the unsurfaced road. Felix could feel a pregnant heaviness gathering in the air. A thunderstorm was about to burst over their heads, turning the roads and fields around the strip into gooey, hip-deep mud.

Helsdon grimaced, eyes tight, holding a bandanna to his mouth and nose. None of the technicians were in armor and they'd left their z-suit helmets back on the shuttle. "Power supplies," he shouted, trying to best the roar of the methanol engine in the old-style truck. "They were supposed to go into the communications satellites the Board is putting up."

They hit a buried culvert under the road and everything bounced up, then slammed back down again. Felix clung grimly to a stanchion, hoping she wouldn't be pitched out. "How'd you get them?" she wondered aloud, watching the packing crate shimmy and bounce from side to side, straining the tiedowns. "Aren't they expensive?"

"Part of our trade." Helsdon shrugged, face coated with a fine layer of yellow dust. He sneezed, wiped his nose and left a muddy smear. "These are Fleet-grade packs, but they're not the right kind to fit the latest round of satellites. So Isoroku traded all our scrap -"

The man in the Development Board jumper leaned over, shaking his head. "These aren't Fleet grade," he shouted, then clutched wildly at a hanging strap as the truck swerved off the main road and into a parking lot behind shuttle hangar six. There was a squeal of brakes, Felix felt the tires slipping on loose gravel, and then the whole vehicle lurched to an abrupt halt. A veil of road dust drifted past, settling on everything.

"Everyone out!" Felix bawled, jumping down and stepping out, scanning the immediate area. Her Macana was off-safety and she'd made sure a fresh clip of armor-piercing was loaded up. The latest intel on the Jehanan troops deployed on the perimeter said they were lancers in heavy ceramic and cloth armor, armed with a wide variety of hand-weapons and native muskets. Against targets in so much ablative armor, she thought penetration would knock them down faster than trying to flay them alive with splintering sub-munitions. Technicians piled out of the truck, surrounded by a screen of Marines with weapons at the ready.

The Board technician jumped down and Felix seized him by the collar. "What do you mean, those aren't Fleet-grade power supplies? That's what the packing display says. That is what we paid for!"

The civilian went pale, fingers clutching at her armor-clad wrist. "Urk! I repacked those crates myself…Go easy, ma'am! They're the original power supplies from the satellites. They've got the same interface -"

"Helsdon!" Felix pointed at the crates being lifted down from the truck. "Break open one of those once we're inside. I think you've been stiffed by this insect…"

"Not me! Not me!" The technician was now an alarming shade of parchment. "The lead engineer on the project had us switch them out – he wanted to extend the time-to-repair for the commercial comm relays! They can drain a pack pretty quickly. But…but these will work fine in your equipment. I swear!"

"That," Felix said, shoving the man in front of her and prodding him towards the hangar with the muzzle of her rifle, "is not the point. You don't cheat the Fleet, and if you do…"

A long, drawn-out crackle of thunder drowned out the rest of her threat. Everyone looked uneasily at the sky, which was now dark with huge, humped clouds. The Fleet crewmen seized hold of the rest of the crates and began moving them inside with commendable speed.

Scowling at the buildings across the road, rifle to her shoulder, Felix waited just inside the hangar doorway until everyone else had gotten under cover. Nothing was moving save stray winds eddying debris across the tarmac and the ring-road, blowing clouds of dust and litter into swirling tchindi. The Heicho could hear Sho-sa Kosho's distinctive voice echoing inside, ordering everyone onto the shuttles and the crates aboard.

Uneasy, Felix threw the locking bar and sprinted for the shuttle. Kosho was waiting on the loading ramp, silhouetted against the bright lights of the shuttle hold and the yellow-orange glow of the sun gilding the runway and the other station buildings.

"Come on, Felix, the captain wants us upstairs right away."

The Heicho double-timed up the ramp, automatically checking to make sure her men and the engineers were strapped in, the cargo was secured and everything was shipshape. The ramp whined up, and then clanged shut. Koshoran through the environmental seal checklist at light-speed and then tapped open her comm.

"Kosho to pilot, we're clear to lift. Is the other shuttle ready to take off?"

Hai, kyo. They are on rollout now.

Felix found a seat and wedged herself in. Kosho was sitting opposite, somehow already secured and looking unruffled in her matte black Fleet z-suit. The shuttle began to tremble and the Heicho felt the landing wheels rolling across broken concrete through the seat of her armor. She thumbed up a v-pane on the inside of her visor, catching the feed from the pilot's station. Clouds were still building over the field and the northern horizon was black with rain.

"Kyo – did Helsdon tell you about the power packs?"

Kosho nodded, lifting her chin to indicate the row of crates secured to the pal-lets running down the middle of the hold. "Isoroku got stiffed, I see. What was supposed to be in these packs?"

"Military-grade field power cells," Helsdon said. The machinist's mate had his comp out and the inventory tag on the side of the nearest cargo pack was blinking in response. "Sunda Aerospace Yards PPCAM-17's – that's a long-term, antimatter powered cell – should keep those satellites with juice for…" The engineer paused, and Felix turned, catching a raised eyebrow through the glassite of his facemask. "…about three thousand years at the draw on file for the commsats the Board is putting up."

"What?" Kosho turned her attention on the Board technician, who looked like he'd swallowed a whole puffer fish. "What does the Development Board think it's doing? Those satellites will wear out from micrometeoroid abrasion long before these cells decay!"

The shuttle trembled again, rolling out onto the landing strip tarmac.

Hold on, came the pilot's voice. The other shuttle is boosting off the field now. We'll be at high-grav accel in -

Felix flinched, her face suddenly awash in brilliant light. The pilot shouted in alarm.

The evacuation shuttle carrying the clerks from the Supply office disintegrated in a blossom of blue-white flame. For an instant, both engines continued to flare, propelling the shattered vehicle out over the shantytown surrounding the landing field. Then the shuttle drive blew apart in a secondary explosion. A corona of explosive gas and smoke belled out in a black cloud, and then burning debris was raining down among the rows of huts. The main mass of the shuttle, wreathed in flame, corkscrewed into the ground. Another concussive blast followed, flinging shattered rooftops and wooden tiles up in a billowing cloud of dust and smoke.

Missile launch plume at eight o'clock! the pilot shouted. That was a high-v interceptor shot!

Felix twitched back to look at the Sho-sa, and Kosho's voice was crystalline in her earbug: "Battle comp says it was a ATGM – they've got a sprint range of six kilometers – full acceleration, Chu-i, and keep us on the deck! If they only have one launcher there's a minute-and-a-half reload time between shots. Get us out of range!"

Felix jammed her head back against the supports and the Fleet shuttle engines lit off at maximum power. The back blast flooded the hangar behind them, tearing off the doors, and sending flames roaring from the windows. The entire building buckled, crumpling like a paper bag tossed into a fireplace. The shuttle roared across the tarmac, crossways to the flight line, canted over at an angle – wingtip barely missing the rooftop of a maintenance shed – and blew across the perimeter fence with a shriek of ruptured air.

A rippling crack-crack-crack slammed into flimsy buildings, shattering windows and deafening thousands of amazed Jehanans crowding into the narrow lanes to see what had made the violent noise in the sky. Howling wind lashed them seconds later and the multitude flattened as the gleaming black shape of the shuttle raced past overhead, heading northeast.

Clinging grimly to her shockwebbing, Kosho cleared the ground-to-ship channel. "Hayes! We've been attacked at the Sobipurй field by a ground-launched surface-to-air missile. Do you have us on tracking scope? Hayes? Hayes, are you there?"

The comm channel was howling with static, frequency indicators blazing red and hopping madly as the comp in her suit searched desperately for a clear channel.

"Hayes?! Kosho to the Cornuelle, is anyone there?"