He was sweating like a malaria victim when he greeted me, Mrs. Petrel said in a concerned tone. Does he spend all of his time like this?
"Probably," the old woman answered drily. "With the Light of Heaven for a father? This son is not cast from the same alloy as the others. But no matter, more fuel for my fire. We'll make sure he gets home safely this time. Can't have him dying in some sordid brawl over a joygirl – that would not play well on the holocast nets, no indeed."
Bhazuradeha is no courtesan. Greta's voice was very sharp. She may be the finest poet in this generation of Jehanan – certainly the most talented in Parus. General Humara was enraged because she was singing part of her new composition, Skythe-Color-of-Birthshell-Fragments, for the prince. They were verses the general had yet to hear – and among these people, such things are touchy matters. Humara is particularly sensitive.
"A few stanzas were cause for attempted murder?" Itzpalicue bristled at the implied reprimand in the woman's voice. "Over poetry?"
Over an impromptu audition. Bhazuradeha is very ambitious. Humara feared the prince would become her patron in his place.
"Not a very discerning woman." The old Mйxica snorted into her hand. "What would she want from our dissolute boy?"
To be elevated beyond the reach of these squabbling petty nobles. The safety to speak that which is in her heart. In time, holocast access via the Development Board's new satellite network. The chance for her words to reach millions of her fellow Jehanan, rather than merely the tens of thousands who gather to hear her recite in public.
"Tens of thousands?" Itzpalicue said in disbelief. "For a poet?"
If Nezahualcoyotl of Tetzcoco were alive today, how many of your people would wish to hear him read Nitlayocoya or Song of Flight in person? A hundred thousand? A million?
"That's entirely different. The Doomed Prince was a Mйxica!"
Of course.
Itzpalicue terminated the conversation and switched back to the operations channel. She did not enjoy being mocked. Frenetic air surged around her like a living sea, making her tremble with reflected excitement, fear, rumor and adrenaline. She started a breathing pattern to slow her heart before she lost focus.
"Lachlan? Yes, you saw? Good. The crowd is nearly hysterical right now…patch me through to the Whisperers downstairs…" There was soft tone in her ear. "Instant rumor, little mice: There is a secret Imperial archaeological mission on Jagan, seeking to steal certain artifacts…"
The Cornuelle
Over The Northern Pole of Jagan
A large v-pane on the wall of Hadeishi's office displayed the threatwell feed from the bridge. A mass of ship glyphs in a variety of colors stood poised at the center of focus. The Chu-sa was only paying partial attention to the chatter on the Fleet channel; too many lists and rosters and status reports spread out on the table between him and Kosho demanded his concentration.
"Transit kick in three…two…one…" The voice of Thai-i Hayes was calm, collected and a little bored.
The threatwell convulsed as local space distorted. The cloud of lights wavered, climbing rapidly into gradient, and then vanished abruptly. A side-glyph flashed as the Cornuelle's main sensor array went active, scanning a vast empty globe around the transit point. Two minutes passed as the Chu-sa paged through readiness reports, lips pursed.
"Transit zone secure. No debris. No gravitational anomalies." Hadeishi heard the senior lieutenant straighten up in the command chair as he activated a wideband transmission channel. "Attention all ships. Imperial battle group Tecaltan has made transit. Bharat system traffic control reverting to IMN Henry R. Cornuelle. Please verify orbit and routing status…"
Hadeishi turned down the sound. Duke Villeneuve and his weekly dinner parties had departed, leaving the Cornuelle the sole Fleet presence in orbit around Jagan. For some reason, the Chu-sa felt a weight leave him. He grunted at himself, causing Kosho to look up, dark brown eyes questioning over the top of a stack of repair and maintenance requests.
"I feel," he said in answer to her silent question, "as if we've stood down from alert status."
Susan laid down a lengthy report discussing repairs to the Officer's Mess. To other eyes, she would seem perfectly composed, but Hadeishi saw a frown hiding behind her smooth features. "Chu-sa, there are persistent rumors of trouble groundside. Now we are alone again and our armaments are drawn down to almost nothing. No backup. Not even a frigate to extend our sensor range…our crew exhausted…"
"I know." Hadeishi shrugged, offering a tiny smile. "I still feel better. We're used to operating alone. I wait with interest to see if Nineteenth Fleet responds to my latest readiness report in a timely fashion, or if another battle group arrives from the direction of Keshewan with sobering news."
"You still think Villeneuve is making transit into a trap? That the Admiralty purposefully gathered every suspect captain into one group, so they could all be exterminated at one go?"
"I suspect – but I do not know – such things have happened before."
Susan frowned openly. "Chu-sa, I disagree… If those captains carried the 'black mark,' then the Mirror would disappear them one at a time. Quietly. Without anyone noticing. It's insane to let them form a battle group, complete with resupply ships, a fleet mobile repair dock, everything they'd need to flee…or fight."
Hadeishi shrugged again and put down the v-pad. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache start to come on. "True. But something is going on…I'm getting a gitchy feeling."
"Kyo…" Kosho paused, wondering how much she should push her captain. "Have you considered going groundside with the first shore-leave contingent?"
"Should I?" Hadeishi gave her a questioning look. "Do you feel I've been cooped up on this ship for too long?"
"No one," Kosho said, after another pause, "has carried more responsibility than you for the past twenty months. Despite Isoroku's grumbling about his workload, I would feel better if you put yourself on the first rotation. Did I tell you about the musicians I heard?"
Hadeishi lifted a hand. "Sho-sa, you're avoiding the question. Do you think my ability to command has been reduced by a lack of…recreational activities?"
"I cannot say that, kyo." Susan stiffened.
"No, you cannot!" Hadeishi sounded irritated. "In some situations, that could be construed as mutinous. I will go with the last rotation, as I've already made clear. It is traditional for the captain to go last, so last I will go."
Kosho remained silent, but he could see she didn't agree.
He settled back in his chair with a sigh. "Which is not to say I haven't seen anything but bulkheads and v-displays and the same faces for too long. You think my judgment has been impaired by a too-long patrol cruise? That I'm suffering psychological effects from extended isolation in the big dark?"
That I would…mislay orders to keep my crew and ship together for just a few more months?
Kosho did not reply, but her already straight spine became even straighter.