House of Reeds

There was silence on the link, and Isoroku started to frown. When the captain started asking for status reports, something was going on. The engineer's forehead furrowed and he rubbed his pug-nose vigorously, trying to clear the metallic bite of ozone away.

Thai-i, I want you to scale back your repair schedule. A situation might be developing on the planet and we can't go to combat acceleration if you've got the corridors filled with unsecured construction materials.

"Kyo!" The engineer sat upright, horrified. "We reviewed the schedule just yesterday! You and the Sho-sa approved the whole list – we've already torn out everything designated first phase! We can't…we can't just put everything back."

We're still on a combat duty station, Thai-i. Adjust your schedule to pull and repair a compartment at a time. You must assume we are always a moment's notice from battle alert. The comm-band beeped cheerfully, signaling the cha

"One at a time?" Isoroku's voice rose violently and then, with a massive effort of will, he closed his mouth, swallowed a bellowing shout of disgust, and ground both palms into his eyes. "One at a time…oh, mother Ameratsu, save me from flight officers of all kinds."

His thick, muscular fingers separated and he peered at the comp pad on the deck beside him. "My beautiful, perfect schedule…" The thought of having to stand down all of the extra hands he'd been given and having his technicians concentrate on one compartment at a time, rather than addressing entire decks at a go, made him want to weep. "What a waste of able hands and hours. What a waste!"

For once, Itzpalicue was not in her darkened bedroom, surrounded by the pervasive hum of comps and the sullen glare of v-displays, when a system alert sounded. Instead, the old Mйxica was sitting on the covered veranda ru

Her comm-band chimed again. She opened one eye and regarded the turquoise and silver bracelet sitting on a side table at her elbow, alongside a tumbler filled with the local equivalent of limonata. She had been trying to write a letter to one of her nieces, but the effort of putting pen to paper – the old woman did not send recorded messages – had lulled her into a drowsy nap.

"Ah, Lachlan must still be asleep," she said when the band chimed for the third time. "They will wake him if I'm not properly responsive." Sticking out her tongue at the device, she picked it up and tapped the cha

Your pardon, mi'lady, a tentative voice answered. We've registered a system trace alert. The communications officer of the Cornuelle has begun a planet-wide scan of the local comm networks, including our own and the ship-to-shore traffic control system.

"Has he noticed our cell tap?" Itzpalicue shifted in the chair, sitting up straight, her mind waking slowly from its comfortable doze. "Are our secure relays compromised?"

We don't believe so, replied the voice. He's only just started. Shall we shut him down?

"No! There's no need to draw attention. Use the relay tap on the Cornuelle to monitor his progress. If he finds any data we don't already have, shunt it to my message queue. If he impinges on our surveillance network, or seems likely to come across the time-delay interfaces on the military and diplomatic comm cha

Yes, ma'am. The operator went off-line and Itzpalicue shrugged her shoulders, a little a

A private cha

"Hello, Susan. How is resupply going?"

Ahead of schedule, kyo. The executive officer's voice was a cool, confident breeze after Isoroku's affronted tirade. Shuttle two has just finished unloading – three months' supply of local firewater, fresh bed linens and a hundred cases of hand-milled soap. Assorted local flavors, but none of them will make you gag.

"I see you and Heicho Felix see eye-to-eye on certain critical matters, Sho-sa. When is the water supply coming aboard?"

Shuttle three is downbound now with the reinforced bladder in place. They should be back in about sixteen hours. I'm preparing to take shuttle two down as well – Helsdon's managed to find us three to four tons of miscellaneous spare parts. All Imperial issue. Not the latest revisions, but then the ship is not exactly fresh from the Jupiter Yards.

"Excellent. Be aware the situation on the ground is starting to cook. If you've space on the shuttle, take a squad of Marines. I've – ah – freed some up from Isoroku's repair projects. If anything happens, evac to orbit immediately. We need you and those crewmen back here more than the repair parts."

Understood. Felix's fireteam is already standing by with Helsdon and two of his technicians. We'll see you in about twenty hours. Kosho, out.

On the bridge of the Cornuelle, midshipman Smith leaned heavily on the armrest of his shockchair, eyes half-closed, one finger pressed to his earbug. His free hand drifted across the v-display, tweaking frequencies and absorption ranges. A constant stream of static, chattering, booming music, lilting singing voices, twenty-second advertisements and encrypted bursts of garbage noise washed over him. In comparison to the spare interstellar communications environment he usually worked in, Smith felt like he'd thrust his head into a hive of angry, polyphonous bees.

A particular warbling squeal caught his attention. "I've heard that before. Three-Jaguar, can you isolate the comm spike at six-thousand-and-fifteen?"

The second watch communications officer, a petite Tlaxcalan girl with perfectly straight ink-black hair, nodded, tapping up a new pane on her display. The frequency isolated and Smith leaned in, watching the main comp apply a score of decrypt filters in dizzying succession.

"Doesn't that look familiar? I'm sure it's an Imperial code…"

Jaguar nodded absently, her attention wholly focused on the v-display. Short, neatly manicured fingers skipped across the board, pulling slates of Fleet, Army and Diplomatic code images from archive and queuing them for decrypt comparison. After a moment, she paused and lifted her sharp chin. "I remember this," she said slowly, "it's from commtech school – an old-style encrypt used by one of the priestly orders."

"A military order? Like the Knights of the Flowering Sun?" Smith started sca