The thought of facing her grandmother with a disaster of this scale made Susan’s stomach clench, but despite this she walked steadily to the nearest lift, nodding to the doctors and corpsmen hurrying here and there in the medbay. When the doors cycled closed, she was perfectly composed, her white uniform shining in the gleam of the overheads.
“Main Command,” she requested.
Hadeishi pressed two fingers against a battle-steel door and heard, muted and distant through the metal, a chiming sound. A moment passed as he stood at ease, hands clasped behind his back, and then the door receded into the bulkhead with a soft hsst! Within, kneeling behind a low desk of teak and rosewood, her fine-boned face pale in the light of a single task-light, Susan Kosho was considering an array of v-displays, all filled with reports, forms, and colorful graphs displaying the state of her ship.
“Yes?” she said, not bothering to look up.
“Somehow,” he said, amused, “you’ve brought your office through in fine shape, Sho-sa. Mine always seemed to take the worst of it, riding such a rough passage. Everything would always be ruined…”
Kosho’s head lifted, eyes widening at the sight of the thin, weary-looking Nisei officer. She stood, tucking a stylus into the twisted bun of hair behind her head, and stepped around the end of the desk.
“You’re here?” She paused a polite distance away, the carefully impassive mask of her face subtly transforming. Without meaning to, Susan began to smile. “You were very foolish to come through the Pinhole after us-there was no safety to be found in our company.”
“So we discovered!” Mitsuharu bowed, dark eyes twinkling. “But things would have been worse if we ran the other way… I had no choice, really, knowing you were here.”
She nodded, looking him up and down. Then she shook her head, seeing quickheal gel shining on his neck, his wrists. The trim brown and white uniform seemed to fit him well enough, though it was strange to see him out of Fleet colors. “You’ve been in the infirmary again, Chu-sa. And I’ve seen your poor ship-kindling and splinters are all that remains.”
“Yes,” he said ruefully, shrugging thin shoulders. “She had a brave heart, though, even to the end.”
“Your crew is aboard,” Kosho offered, “under the best care we can provide.” She stepped closer, pursing her lips disapprovingly, and took the hem of his jacket sleeve between thumb and forefinger. “Lost all your clothes, I see. Is this a loaner?”
Hadeishi shook his head, straightening the half-jacket. “I’ve a new commission, Sho-sa. Brevet-captain of the Kader -that same poor wreck lying in tow off the Pilgrim -mine now that I’d found her, brought her to worse state than when she fell into my hands. But-”
“A ship, still. A starship.” Kosho stepped back, her expression turning wan and drained. “I can offer you nothing better, Chu-sa. Not even as an unfounded promise.”
“I know.” Hadeishi smoothed back his hair from forehead to nape in a terribly familiar gesture. “It is strange-not to be in dress whites, not to hear the piping when coming aboard.” He looked around her cabin, at first sad, but then whistling softly in appreciation. In comparison to his old quarters on the Cornuelle, the Naniwa ’s accommodations were refined, even luxurious. “This suits you, Sho-sa .”
Kosho looked around at the gleaming wood-paneled walls-the tatami-patterned g-decking-and laughed softly. “Pretty-but all this doesn’t give me another meter of armor, another sixteen hard-points…”
“Don’t think it useless!” Mitsuharu admonished. “You must find rest somewhere or your alertness will be dulled.”
“How does it compare to a Templar ship?” Susan slid a panel aside on one of the walls, revealing a compartment holding a black iron kettle and a rack of cups. “Tea?”
“ Domo, Sho-sa.” He knelt gingerly on a nearby mat, settling with a hiss of pain. Kosho began measuring matcha into the cups. “What I have seen of the Pilgrim matches the best the Fleet has put underway. Their captains-well, I’ve experience with two-are able.”
“Hm.” Susan whisked steaming hot water into the green powder. “Are you oath sworn now, to the Temple?”
“No.” Hadeishi tilted his head inquisitively. He could see Kosho’s attention was fixed on the molten jade swirling in the two cups, but something in her voice sharpened his interest. “I’ve command of the Kader under the terms of a commercial contract as a serving crewman on a Temple-owned ship-as salvage officer. But I am not yet a Knight of the Temple, or even a poor brother…”
She turned, holding a small enameled tray in her hands, and knelt as well, pale blue cups and rice cakes between them. “You wish to be?”
“They have use of my poor talents, it seems. As a salvage driver, if nothing else.” He shrugged, and then lifted his cup. “ Domo arigato , Sho-sa. It is good to sit with you again, even in such a strange place, so far from home.”
She inclined her head. “You’re welcome, Chu-sa. Magister De Charney would be a fool to refuse your talents. Not as a tug captain, either! I’ve recently reviewed all of the Mirror briefs on the Fratres Milites Templi -and while they have an excellent reputation in counterpiracy activities, and even in some border skirmishes-there is no evidence they have put main line-of-battle vessels like the Pilgrim into service before. Nor deployed ships displaying a countermeasures system which can handily defeat our sensors!”
With this, she paused, watching him carefully. For the first time in their long association, Mitsuharu suddenly felt a distance between them. She’s suspicious? Of me? Hadeishi set down his cup. And why not? I’ve arrived in the colors of a foreign power. Having been aboard the strike carrier for only a day, the Nisei officer had already grasped the leap in power and confidence of the Knights. Seeing the ship’s crew at work in the command spaces, in the medbay, even in the shuttle which had brought him over to the Naniwa, an old, old story from the naval history of old Earth had come to mind. A Danish admiral had once said, when judging his people’s many enemies: “Nothing shows the temper and ability of a nation more clearly and concisely than the crew of a ship of war-be it an aircraft carrier or an attack submarine-everything else can be disguised, hidden, faked… but not the natural camaraderie and interplay of an experienced crew.”
“Susan, I am still an Imperial officer. My name remains on the List, my commission stands. I can tell you this much of the Knights: the Pilgrim is a match in gunnery, speed, crew, and systems for any carrier in the Fleet. Her crew is dedicated, resourceful, and enthusiastic. And yes, I have seen with my own eyes-I have in fact used to excellent effect-an emissions dampening system which rendered a Temple-owned freighter invisible to Khaid sensors at point-blank range.”
Kosho did not answer immediately, setting down her own cup and adjusting the tray carefully. When she did look up, Hadeishi felt a tiny cold shock. Her expression was pinched and wan. “Do you think-” She paused, reordering her thoughts. “Has the Order decided to break with the Empire? Is the Pilgrim on a combat footing?”
“Combat?” Mitsuharu shook his head. “No, they’ve stood down. There are fighter wings on patrol… but I’ve seen nothing which indicates they are hostile to us.”
Then she did seem to relax, a brittle tension flowing away from her, and she raised the cup again. “Greetings, Chu-sa. I did not think I’d see you again, when we parted at Toroson.”
“I either!” Hadeishi laughed softly, feeling his heart lighten. “Who could have guessed we’d come together again in such a remote fastness, or by such a circuitous path?”
“Who indeed?” Kosho offered a faint smile, though her eyes were shadowed again. “It must have been fate.”