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 porcelain 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."