House of Reeds

The Cornuelle At the Edge of the Jaganite Atmosphere

Wincing, Hadeishi settled himself into the command station in secondary control. Two medical orderlies assisted him, but despite their gentle hands, every nerve and muscle in his body throbbed with pain. At the navigator's station, a deathly-looking Sho-i Smith stared at him with haggard eyes.

"Kyo?" The boy's voice was a frail whisper.

"Prepare for maneuvering burn," Hadeishi gasped in response, shifting his hips in the shockchair. "Engineering – are you live on this channel?"

The Chu-sa had two earbugs and two comm-threads tacked in, one on each side of his face. Static and warbling interference intermittently flooded both channels.

We're here, an unfamiliar voice responded. This is Yoyontzin. Isoroku has gone up into the drive deck access to control the engines from the maintenance panel on level two.

"What?" Hadeishi kept his face still. Smith and the other junior officers in the secondary bridge were already on the ragged edge. All of them were injured – the communications officer had taken a bad cut on the side of his head and had one arm taped to his chest. A little less than half of the equipment was working – most of the control panels were dead – and there were signs of an explosion near the roof. A bitter taste of electrical smoke hung in the air. "What happened to the telemetry relay?"

Keeps dropping out. Yoyontzin's voice was cracking, veering into panic. We've replaced the hard-line twice, and it just keeps dying. I have comm to the Thai-i on a separate channel. I'll…I'll just relay what you need by hand.

"Understood. Stand by." Hadeishi muted the channel and stared at Smith. "Navigational scanners? External sensors?"

"Up and running, kyo." The midshipman tapped his panel. "On your pane now."

The command display curving around Hadeishi flickered to life. A set of v-panes unfolded, showing minimal altitude, position, direction and velocity data for the ship. The Chu-sa's jaw tightened and he forced himself to focus. The pain in his legs was wearing away at his concentration one bite at a time. "We're deep," he said, checking the altitude of the ship. "Hull temperature?"

"Rising, but slowly." Smith crouched over his panel, working the glyphs with one hand. "A shallow descent."

"All that's kept us alive so far," Hadeishi said, reaching up to smooth his short beard. He grimaced – the Medical techs had shaved half of his face to get gel tape on his radiation burns – and switched back to the engineering channel. "We have navigational control. Stand by for burn plot. Smith-tzin, we're going to have do a preprogrammed maneuver – the live relay to the engines is down. Isoroku will have to fire them remotely."

"Hai, kyo." The boy began tapping on his display. Hadeishi opened a Navplot pane himself and searched around on the console for a stylus. They had all disappeared, despite magnetic adhesive which was supposed to keep them in place. Somewhere there are millions of panel styli in a bucket, he thought blackly, millions of them.

Remembering a trick from the Academy, he slipped a rank tab from the collar of his z-suit and twisted the retaining clip out. The metal point had the right kind of electrical signature to activate the sensor layer on the v-pane. Leaning over, he began sketching a trajectory on the display showing the round bulk of Jagan, his ship and the multiple layers of ever-thickening atmosphere.

"Burn pattern is done," Smith said a moment later, knuckling the glyph to transfer his work to the captain's station. Hadeishi leaned back a little, watching the calcs load – so slowly without main comp to supplement the display panel units! – and nodded. He meshed his own path-plot, double-checked the fuel levels last reported for the engines and tapped his comm thread awake.

"We're transferring burn parameters now," he said to Yoyontzin, whose rapid breathing sounded very loud in his ears. Hadeishi tapped the runner-glyph. The panel winked green, reporting a successful transfer.

Hadeishi tapped his other thread up and said: "All hands, prepare for maneuvering burn. Secure yourselves and your compartments. Burn will begin in…"

Yoyontzin was saying "Wait a moment, wait a moment…I've lost Isoroku's comm. Oh, there it is. I'm transferring…" There was unintelligible muttering on the channel. "He's loading the params now. Should be ready in about six minutes…"

"Stand by for maneuvering burn in eight, I say, eight minutes," Hadeishi announced. He lifted his chin at Smith and the other officers in the secondary. "Tack everything down in this space. No loose debris!"

Seven minutes later, maneuvering drives one, three and six ignited. Hadeishi felt the trembling vibration in his spine, stiffened into his shockchair and then he heard – for the first time in the six years he'd served aboard her – the Cornuelle groan in pain. The bulkheads twisted as the ship began to accelerate, emitting a deep basso moan. Overhead panels shivered, the lights flickered, and his command console began to evince a strange wavering effect.

He could feel the ship twisting as she surged forward, her prow biting into the upper atmosphere.

"Yoyontzin! The drives are out of balance," Hadeishi snarled, sweat seeping down the back of his neck. "Tell Isoroku to shut down the burn!"

Endless seconds passed and then the engines fluttered to silence. The hull creaked and groaned, flexing back into shape. Hadeishi slowly unclenched both hands from his armrests. He tapped the thread along his left cheekbone.

"Yoyontzin," he said very slowly and clearly, "you have to get that telemetry relay working properly. All I need is engine control live on my panel. Just patch the line from the drive access directly through to me, that's all. Don't use a relay."

But, kyo , we'll lose comm with most of the ship -

"You will do this right now, engineer, or you will be shot."

Hadeishi shifted in his chair, swallowing a gasp of pain. His legs were growing numb. "Smith-tzin, shut down your panel and reroute the Navplot to my station. Then come over here and stand secondary pilot. We'll take the ship out of atmosphere by hand."

The midshipman scrambled up, tapping the skull-glyph to kill his console. A moment later, he was squeezed in beside Hadeishi, the smell of his sweat pungent with body-toxins.

"Navplot is live," Smith said, watching a new set of v-panes unfold. "Telemetry is…Kyo, we're losing altitude again."

"I see." Hadeishi was listening to the comm from engineering. The channel clicked off. "Stand by for a second burn."

"But we can't warn -"

"I know." The Chu-sa forced himself forward, ignoring the throbbing in his hip. A set of engineering panes appeared. "Drive six is entirely out of synch. We're going to go to a burn with four, five, one and two." His fingers skipped across the panel, keying a fresh set of fuel metrics. He stabbed a finger at a status display, dragging the pane across the console. "Watch this reaction mass reservoir. Six is misfiring because there is a rupture in the fuel exchanger, the drive is getting too much mass. The cross-feed might be damaged as well. I'm going to go to minimal burn on the other four – if they start drawing too much fuel, override me and shut everything down."

"Hai," Smith swallowed, focusing on the status pane. His hand was poised over an override glyph of an eagle twisted around the pads of a cactus. "Ready for burn."

Out of habit, Hadeishi cleared his throat. "All hands stand by for two-minute burn."

He slid four fingers up the controls for the engine array. The ship trembled to life again. Vibrations cascaded through the hull and decking, riding up into his spine. Hadeishi closed his eyes, ignoring the readouts and graphs. His fingers moved delicately, adjusting thrust.

"Altitude stabilizing," Smith whispered, watching the captain's thin fingers making minute adjustments, altering second by second. Some of the motions were almost invisible.

"Eyes on the fuel feed!" Hadeishi snapped. Cornuelle began to drag against the atmosphere, against gravity, her nose coming up, prow breaking free from vanishingly thin waves of air. The Chu-sa began to surge more thrust to the lower drive nacelles. The ship's vibration changed pitch. A groaning sound began to shudder through the decking and the Chu-sa backed off a fraction. His fingers were beginning to tremble. A cramp stabbed in his left calf.

"Fuel is good," Smith said, blinking sweat out of his eyes. "Burn is clean. Fuel exchanger is holding."

"Advancing to thirty percent," Hadeishi announced. "Everyone hold on."

Two forefingers slid up, the subsonic roar of anti-matter annihilating ratcheted up into the audible range. The console began to shiver, making the rank badge dance loose from the crevice where the captain had secured it. Outside, the black hull of the ship began to glow, here and there, as atmospheric particles collided at higher and higher velocities.

"Fuel is holding," Smith declared, watching the reservoirs sink lower. Without the comp to microcontrol the reaction chambers, too much fuel was dumping into the system. "We're going to clog if we keep this up…" he warned.

"I know." Sweat purled down the side of Hadeishi's nose. "Twenty seconds."

The Cornuelle evened out. The Chu-sa cut to just two drives, and then feathered them back. He could feel the ship settle, the vibration in her hull idling down, bulkheads shifting and stretching. Gravity clutched at him in an infinitesimal way, tugging at his sleeve. Hadeishi glanced at the Navplot, saw the ship had reached a nominally safe orbit and breathed out.

"Engines all stop," he ordered himself. All four controls slid to zero with a careful, controlled movement. "All stop."

The ship creaked, bulkheads shifted minutely and the deck ceased to vibrate.

The Cornuelle coasted into a new orbit.

"Get down to Engineering," Hadeishi said to Smith. "Take all six drives off-line. Main power to minimal – and make sure someone has pulled the plug on point defense and the shipskin!"

The Chu-sa stared at the Navplot with a wan, haggard face. Something was approaching. He could see the flare of engines against the curve of the world on a feed from one of the forward maneuvering cameras. Smith leaned over his shoulder, clinging to the railing.

"Go on!" Hadeishi slumped back into the stiff confines of the chair. His eyes were fixed on the burning mote speeding towards him. At least someone survived groundside… I hope it's one of ours.

The lone Navplot v-pane emitted a warning tone. Hadeishi blinked awake and was instantly furious with himself for falling asleep. Smith had not returned from engineering and the two ratings on the bridge turned to stare at him, expecting a command response to the warning.

The Chu-sa stared at the plot, saw dozens of transit signatures appearing in a series of evenly spaced concentric circles and relaxed a little.

"A fleet battle group," he said, realizing neither of the ratings had an active Navplot on their consoles. "Villeneuve must be returning from Keshewan with Tecaltan 88. Is our point defense finally off-line?"

The midshipman at the weapons panel bobbed her head, face sheened with sweat.

"Good." He tapped his comm thread to engineering. "Yoyontzin, do we have broadband commcast capability?"

Ah, soon, kyo. Soon. We're trying to decouple the external comm array from the power grid for the shipskin and point defense. Isoroku says…he says we'll be done as soon as we're done!

Hadeishi started to laugh, relieved, then coughed, feeling his chest constrict. "Ah, that hurts!"

On his plot, the ident codes of a cloud of destroyers, cruisers and battlecruisers began to firm up. The mass of dreadnaughts, fleet tenders and troop ships in the middle of the globe were still indistinct behind a screen of countermeasures, but the Chu-sa could tell the Flingers-of-Stone had dropped into the system 'hot' and ready for battle.

The jarring realization reminded him of the Flower Priests and their plot. Villeneuve knew. He knew and his operations officer knew. His fingers curled into a tight claw on the armrest. They left us here to be expendable. So they could return – at a pre-planned time, or summoned by a relay drone waiting at the transit limit – just in time to rescue the situation on the planet. And be welcomed as heroes.

The muscle in the side of his neck spasmed and both of the ratings on the bridge looked away, purely terrified by the expression on Hadeishi's face.

Shuttle three drifted across the starboard ventral drive cowling of the Cornuelle, maneuvering to mate hatch with the access door beside boat bay two. In the boat's airlock, Sho-sa Kosho watched the cruiser glide past, face impassive, teeth clenched tight.

She looks horrible, Susan thought. The outer hull of the light cruiser was ripped and shattered, huge gouges torn from the shipskin, revealing tangled metal and ruptured compartments. Debris tinged and clanged from the shuttle, sending a queer ringing noise through the cargo compartment. The Sho-sa clicked her teeth.

"Kosho to the Cornuelle, come in please. Anyone? Come in."

There was a sputtering echo of static. Then a voice made itself recognizable out of the distortion. Sho-sa Kosho? Is that you? This is Yoyontzin in Engineering! Are you outside the hull?

"I'm here with shuttle three," she replied, wondering how bad things were aboard if an engineer-second was running communications. "Are the boat bay doors working?"

No, kyo. Nearly everything is dead. We've got a system infection. We do have power in the mains, but the Chu-sa says the weapons arrays and tracking are malfunctioning, so shipskin and most systems are unpowered for safety.

"I see." Susan turned to look at Felix and Helsdon, who were standing behind her. The cargo bay itself was crowded with the enormous shape of a reinforced cargo bladder. Water shimmered inside the translucent plastic, gently sloshing from side to side. "We're not going to be unloading today," she declared, "but I'm going across. Helsdon, do you feel well enough to come with me? Isoroku could use your help on damage control."

"Of course, kyo." Helsdon's z-suit and gear were charred and still marked with soot, but he had managed the shuttle flight up from Parus. "With this much damage, the Thai-i will need another six pairs of hands."

Susan nodded. "Heicho, with power down and the ship chewed to ribbons, we're not finding any medical attention for the wounded here. Take this shuttle back and shift everyone to the cantonment. Regimental medical can take care of them. Just make sure no one steals their boots. Understood?"

"Hai, kyo." The Marine nodded dully. She was exhausted and her armor was glassy with heat damage and scored with bullet splashes and bright, metallic scars made by Jehanan sword blades.

The shuttle glided to a halt and a green light winked on over the airlock.

Sho-sa? The pilot's voice was tentative. We're at the boat bay airlock…but it looks terrible out there! Are you sure you want -

Kosho thumbed the access panel and the inner door cycled open. "Going EVA now. Stand by until I'm inside. I'll comm you."

Helsdon followed, the remains of his toolkit slung over his shoulder and a package of scavenged comps in his hand. The lock doors irised closed behind them. Felix turned away, yawning, and went to find a place to catch a nap while the shuttle was downbound.

"Do we have tightbeam to the flagship?" Hadeishi slumped in his command chair, only barely illuminated by the emergency lights on the secondary overhead.

"Yes, sir." The midshipman tapped the ident code and recog passwords for a secure channel. "We're getting the response carrier wave…hello, Cornuelle calling the Tehuia, come in please." Two-Dog paused, listening. "I have a command priority call from Chu-sa Hadeishi, commanding the Cornuelle, for Admiral Villeneuve. Yes, it is urgent."

The acting communications officer turned to look at her captain. "They say only the Admiral's aide is available right now…"

"Put him on." Hadeishi's voice was cold and even.

Two-Dog keyed the transmission relay to the command chair. Hadeishi heard one of his comm threads warble to life. A v-pane unfolded on his console, showing Flag Captain Plamondon's broad, bearded face. The Novo French officer looked haggard and out-of-sorts.

Hadeishi! We've been calling you for at least an hour! What's your status? Long-range scan shows signs of fighting on the planet and wreckage in orbit. The officer's voice was tinged with panic. What the devil is happening down there?

"Put me through to Villeneuve," the Chu-sa said flatly. "Immediately."

Plamondon drew back at the harsh tone. Are you well, Chu-sa ? This v-feed is quite poor, but I don't believe you're on the command deck of an Astronomer -class cruiser…

"I have no time for you, Plamondon. Put me through to the admiral."

Watch your tongue, Hadeishi! The flag officer looked off screen for a moment. Sweat beaded along his collar and hairline. Has your ship been attacked? Are you injured? What happened to the freighters in orbit? Do you need combat support?

"My ship has been severely damaged," the Chu-sa snarled, rising up. His mutilated face came into clearer view on the v-feed pickup and the Frenchman recoiled. "My crew slaughtered, hundreds of common spacers murdered on two independent freighters and perhaps thousands of Imperial citizens killed, wounded or driven into flight on the planet below. Now put the admiral on the comm!"

Plamondon blanched momentarily, but then he rallied, outraged by the hectoring tone in the junior officer's voice. You do not demand things of the admiral! You will calm down and deliver a proper status report, Chu-sa, or you will be relieved of command!

"Will I?" Hadeishi started to laugh, making a horrible croaking sound. "My ship is crippled, Frenchman. There's been a full-scale revolt on the planet and I doubt the Army will give you a polite greeting either! Now, put Villeneuve on the channel and he can explain to me, face to face, why seventy of my crew died for no reason at all! Why you abandoned us here with a ship in desperate need of repair to jaunt off to a planet where I'm sure there was exactly nothing going on, until you were told to return!"

Told? That's a lie - The flag captain's voice chilled. You are making accusations -

"I am," Hadeishi interrupted, voice rising steadily. "One of those freighters was a Xochiyaotinime covert operations ship – this entire war was a flowery excuse for certain officers to be promoted and get good marks on their combat record for bravery and expedient dispatch of the enemy! A safe way to move up!"

Plamondon turned a sickly shade of parchment white. That is insane! What are you implying? We've no knowledge of -

Hadeishi stabbed his hand off-screen, pointing out to spinward, beyond the indisinict frontier of the Empire. "If your curst admiral wants battle, he should go hunting Khaid or Megair in the empty systems beyond the Rim! Then he can see how real battle feels! Then he can watch the dead pile up in Medical, hanging in the hallways like sides of rotted beef! Then he can buy his precious medals with honest bl -"

A slim hand, still gloved in the matte black of a Fleet z-suit, slashed down on the Chu-sa's panel, severing the connection.

"What?" Hadeishi blinked away tears, trying to force himself up from the chair. Another hand pressed into his chest, holding him prisoner. "Why did you do that?"

Susan Kosho stared at him, the corners of her mouth tight with anger, eyes fierce. "What are you doing? Have you lost all sense of self-preservation?"

"They betrayed us," Hadeishi whispered, feeling his last vestige of strength drain away, leaking from arms, legs, and chest like a spilled jar, leaving him hollow and spent. "We were chosen to die – as soon as we arrived, they saw our service jacket – they knew we could be cast aside without cost…"

Kosho leaned close, trying to catch the last of his words, but the Chu-sa fell silent. The lieutenant commander looked around the bridge, saw the two midshipmen were staring back at her with ashen faces and gave them both a steady, fulminating glare.

"I am taking the Chu-sa to Medical. Remain at your posts. If anyone calls from the Tehuia, inform them we're heavily damaged, the captain is wounded and I will call them back as soon as the situation has stabilized."

Two-Dog nodded weakly and hunched over her station, concentrating fixedly on the display.

Kosho levered back the arms of the shockchair and gently eased her captain up. He seemed very small and frail. In z-g, she could carry him under one arm, kicking from stanchion to stanchion. The corridor outside was blackened with fire damage and nothing seemed to be working, but after years of service aboard she could find her way through the ship by touch if need be.

Instinctively, she moved up-ship, heading for the Chu-sa's cabin, but just past bulkhead sixteen, she found the passageway blocked by a temporary pressure seal. Everything beyond the damage control barrier seemed to be in ruins. Guiding his limp body ahead of hers with one hand, Susan turned aside, descended the gangway to the portside hallway and found herself, fifteen minutes later, at the door to her own cabin.

The pressure door had lost power, but she managed to force the panel aside and drifted in, head-lamp glowing on the walls and glancing across her personal effects. For a wonder, everything seemed to be intact. The tiny pair of rooms had not lost pressure or suffered fire damage. Her collection of hand-sized paintings of Imperial Court ladies was crooked on the wall, but still intact.

Kosho bundled the Chu-sa onto her bed and tucked a cotton quilt around him, strapping the edges down to hold him in place. Hadeishi's eyes were still open and staring into the darkness, but he said nothing. Worried, she tacked the lamp to one wall, letting the beam shine up on a section of patterned silk covering the overhead. White-winged herons and cranes interlocked in a delicate geometric pattern. The reflected beam suffused the room with a soft, greenish light.

Her helmet came undone with a soft click and Kosho wrinkled her nose at the smell of burned plastic and electrical insulation tainting the air. Her medband said the atmosphere was breathable, though chill. Turning off her comm, she unlatched the captain's helmet as well, letting his frayed gray-black hair float loose on her pillow. The bed was very narrow, but just wide enough to sit by his side, one booted foot braced against the desk to hold her in place.

"What happened to you?" Susan brushed greasy hair out of his eyes, her fingertips gentle on the patches of gel covering burns on his face. "What happened to our ship?"

Slowly, Hadeishi's eyes turned towards her. They seemed empty, as if his soul had fled already, leaving only a pale, drained husk behind. Weary, he swallowed to clear his throat. "I made a terrible mistake, Susan. I thought we would be safe once the ship was home – once we were in Imperial space."

"A mistake?" Kosho's forehead wrinkled with a single sharp crease. "A saboteur rigged the satellites in orbit as mines – Helsdon and Felix found the power plants had been replaced. No one could have -"

"Months ago." Hadeishi said. "Months ago. Do you…do you remember the day the malfunctioning message drone reached us?"

"In the dead G-4 system beyond Kahlinkiat? Yes, radiation had damaged the -"

"I wiped the drone message store," Hadeishi said, so softly she could barely make out the words. "Or most of it, anyway. The common news, the things the men look forward to, those I left intact…but not the personnel and fleet orders. I erased them all."

"That is impossible." Susan pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. He was icily cold. "Only the ship's political officer has…" Her eyes widened and horror crept into her expression. "Hummingbird gave you the control codes when he left us at Mimixcoa?"

Hadeishi nodded, making the thin, worn linen on the pillow rustle.

"I wanted…the orders…" He stopped speaking for a moment, gathering his strength. "We were ordered home, Susan, to report to Toroson as soon as possible."

"Mitsuharu!" Kosho cupped his pale, worn face with her hands. "That was nine months ago! We've been living on dregs and scraping from system to system…" She drew back, comprehension slowly dawning in her face. Her expression softened minutely. "What did the orders say?"

"We had a good ship," Hadeishi said, eyes distant, staring through her at the overhead. "A good crew. All these years of training and learning how to act as one…moving so smoothly, so effortlessly, without the slightest hesitation…the best crew I've ever had. A fine ship."

"Mitsuharu," Susan tried to catch his eye. "What did the orders say?"

"They were…we were recalled to Toroson to deco mmission the Cornuelle, Susan. They were going to break her up, use her for maintenance parts for other Astronomer-class cruisers. They're…the whole class is being retired from service, or sold, or parted out."

"Oh." Kosho sat back, nostrils flaring, her face perfectly still. "The ship."

"You…" Hadeishi's face twisted and his eyes filmed with tears. "You're a captain now, Susan. A Chu-sa yourself. You deserve the honor, I must say, more than any officer I've ever served with. And Hayes – he…he…made lieutenant commander. And Smith…ifthey're still alive. If any ofthem are. You're bound for the Naniwa – and she's a fine, fine ship – fresh from the yards. You'll…" Tears began to leak up from his eyes in tiny silver droplets and Susan had to turn away.

Imperial officers did not cry. Susan herself did not remember Hadeishi ever showing such raw emotion before – oh, he was fond of laughing and making sly hints and poking fun at her when he thought no one was looking – and he treated the junior officers very gently, by Fleet standards, but this…this was too much for her. She held herself very still, hands white at the knuckles as they clenched on the edge of the fold-out bed.

"You were all being taken away from me," he rasped, barely able to speak. "I was left with nothing. No ship, no crew, no purpose. You see…" He stopped, racked by a gasping heave. "There was nothing for me. No promotion. No new ship. Only orders to proceed to Jupiter to wait on The List. Hayes…Hayes is for the Taiko, Smith for advanced school…Huйmac and the Marines for a training cycle at Syria Planum on Mars. You will all do so well."

Susan closed her eyes, forcing herself to ignore the dreadful sound of his voice. His exhaustion was creeping into her as well, filling her heart with a cold emptiness.

"I just wanted a few more months of your company, Susan. A few more days to have a purpose."

Kosho turned, pressing her hand across his mouth. Her eyes were very bright. "Don't say anything. Nothing. No more." She shook her head slowly, appalled and anguished in turn. "We were out too long, Chu-sa! Worn down to nothing, spent, exhausted…did you think we were ronin in some old tale? Wandering from town to town, helping the peasants, fighting bandits…"

She stopped, her skin turning the color of fresh ash. "You should have told me. We are Imperial officers, Mitsuharu. We have an honorable duty to attend. We can't just ignore orders…even if…even if they're painful to consider. And the ship…" Kosho looked up at the dead lights on the overhead. "She is dying despite all you've done…we're badly damaged, kyo, they won't even bother to haul her back to Toroson."

Hadeishi closed his eyes, turning his head away.

"Oh," Susan said, the brief flare of anger dying, falling away into darkness. She put her hand on the quilt over his heart. "I don't know what will happen to you…"

The room remained cold and quiet, even after he had succumbed to a fitful, weary sleep.

Kosho watched him for a long time, checking his medband now and again. At last, she stirred and forced herself to stand up. The little washroom lacked water pressure or lighting, but she managed to repair her makeup, now badly streaked and smeared, and make herself look presentable.

Then Chu-sa Kosho let herself out and headed for the secondary control bridge. There was work to be done, and – if she could manage to placate the gods of the Fleet – save the careers of her junior officers. Those who lived, at least.

The dead will keep their honor. They will be remembered at the Feast of Spirits as heroes.