“ Hai, Chu-sa! ”
Susan tried to turn her attention back to reviewing the latest supplies and munitions projections from Logistics, but the constant chatter on the battle-group stellarcast-which she had spooling on one of her earbug channels-was afire with speculation. Tlemitl had not ’cast the usual greeting or pleasantries, though the massive ship’s course was clear-dead on to the Can.
The thought of Xocoyotl’s reaction to being usurped by the Prince, who outranked the vice admiral in every possible way, did lighten her mood a little. But she did not relish the prospect of managing both of them.
Sixty-two minutes later, as the Naniwa completed her course correction, an alarm sounded from the Navigation station.
“ Chu-sa! ” the navigator said sharply, looking up from his console. “Unknown signature on the plot! We have an intruder in our patrol box.”
“Where?” Thai-i Konev at Weapons looked keen to exercise his systems.
“Report,” Susan said, her voice calm and controlled. Her own displays were already adjusting, with threat analysis panes opening up. “Size-heading-something pertinent, Thai-i Holloway.”
“Pretty small, kyo, about sixty meters long. It’s piggybacking in the Tlemitl ’s wake. Signature is intermittent-” Holloway swallowed a curse, as the icon suddenly vanished from the threatwell.
“Project location from the data we’ve already captured, Thai-i. Lock heading as soon as we’ve caught sight of her again.” Kosho looked to Pucatli, who was sitting in at comm for the usual first-watch officer. “Signal battle stations to all hands, Chu-i. Immediate intercept. Unauthorized ship of unknown flag. Guns live. This is not a drill. Load missile racks one and two. Direct Socho Juarez to ready two teams for board and seizure.”
Then she sat back, feeling a cold shiver of adrenaline course through her limbs as the Klaxon sounded, and her bad mood vanished like the morning frost from the eaves. Smartly now, she thought, watching the bridge crew in action. Mitsuharu would be pleased to see their progress.
“ Chu-sa?” Oc Chac looked up from his own console, his chiseled face gleaming as the overheads flashed three times. “Battlecast needs an update on our course correction. Should I-”
She shook her head, no. “Let’s see what we’ve beaten from cover, first, Sho-sa. Then I’ll report to the various admirals.”
The Naniwa cut in quite nimbly, Susan was pleased to see, using the particle storm kicked up by the Tlemitl ’s passage as a hunting screen, and Juarez’ combat teams had dropped alongside the tiny ship with two shuttles before there was any indication the intruders realized they’d been seen.
Kosho listened intently, a constellation of v-feeds from marine armor cameras unspooling on her main console, as the Socho and his men cracked two airlocks simultaneously and secured the ship. There was some chatter from the inhabitants, but by then the engines were locked out.
She raised an eyebrow, looking questioningly at Oc Chac.
“Registry, Sho-sa?”
“The Moulins, kyo. A ‘merchanter for hire’ out of Denby 47. No more than an asteroid with a hydrogen cracking station and fueling gantry. If memory serves, Denby lies within the jurisdiction of New Malta.”
“A Templar ship?” Kosho was intrigued. “Or even Norsk?”
Oc Chac grimaced. “The Europeans would be mad to meddle in the Prince’s affairs, kyo. But the knight-priests? They might find it amusing to trick about at his tail, all unseen.”
Susan folded her slim arms and stared apprehensively at the multiplane view afforded by the threatwell. This place is drawing far too many players. All for a hazard to navigation? No-the Mirror must think they can gain control of the weapon, or whatever it is, and turn it to our use. But why did the Prince arrive so late? He was never late to any affaire or affray before… curious. Very curious. She tapped open the Marine command circuit.
“ Socho Juarez, what do we have for passengers?”
His report, brisk and efficient as it was, was not what Kosho wanted to hear. Her expression turned quite remarkably sour, as though she’d bitten into a rotten persimmon. Oc Chac waited, his curiosity obvious, while the Chu-sa stared distantly at the threatwell. When she turned to him, he straightened, hands clasped behind his back. “ Kyo ?”
“Loading bay one between the engine ring and the main holds-do we have something stowed there?”
“ Iie, Kyo, Fleet regulations indicate the exterior bays are only for-”
“ Sho-sa, prep the bay to tether that ship. I want it inside our coil field as quickly as we can.” She looked away. “ Socho Juarez, we’re bringing you inboard, but I want a squad on-board at all times, and bring in some Zosen to tear it apart-hidden compartments, look for everything…”
“ Hai, kyo! ”
On the bridge of the Moulins, Hummingbird watched with equanimity as the gaping maw of the battle-cruiser’s rear cargo hold enveloped them. He was keeping an eye on his comp, which chirped pleasantly a moment after they were fully inside the Imperial ship. Anderssen frowned-her hands were clasped on the top of her head, just like Captain Locke and the pilot-and she was staring down the barrel of an Imperial shipgun. The nauallis’ comp was sitting on a side console, still plugged into the freighter’s shipnet, and seemed to be quite busy.
“Who are you talking to with that thing?” she hissed out of the side of her mouth.
“There has been correspondence with the battle-cruiser’s navigational system,” the nauallis said. “Are your bags packed?”
“Of course,” she growled, and then fell silent. One of the marines-his black-on-black nameplate seemed to say Juarez-had noticed their conversation and came over, expression grim.
Before the Imperial could say anything, however, Hummingbird nodded pleasantly and said: “ Socho, please consider my credentials before doing anything rash. I am an Imperial Tlamantinime -a Judge-on official business. This woman is my assistant and we appreciate your commander’s efforts in picking us up.” He twisted his wrist, exposing a comm band, and then submitted quietly as the marine scanned his various forms of identification.
“Huh.” Juarez pursed his lips, looked the motley set of them over, and then turned away, speaking into his throatmike.
Gretchen snorted in disgust, knowing full well there was no way the old Mexica had planned this. “You know, Crow, you remind me of my first field instructor. She really didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t plan. She was clumsy and forgetful. Disasters followed her everywhere, but something always happened to make her look great. She eventually wandered up a pyramid on Go-Long in the rainy season and was struck by lightning.”
Socho Juarez returned, his expression thunderous. “The Chu-sa will speak with you.” He jerked an armored thumb at two of the marines. “ Heicho Gozen, Chayle, the captain is waiting for them in the loading bay overlook.”
“We’ll need our luggage,” Hummingbird interjected, radiating an aura of perfect reasonability. “It will only take a moment, and save time later.” Juarez just stared in bafflement. The nauallis slowly lowered his hands, gathered up his spare mantle, the hand comp, and gestured for Gretchen to precede him out of the control space. Both marine corporals-shipguns at the ready-followed along, a little nonplussed themselves.
Behind them, Juarez shook his head, finger to his earbug. “Are you sure, Chu-sa? This whole ship stinks of an infiltrator… Hai, hai. They’re on their way.”
Clattering down the gangway from the Moulins, half-blinded by the brilliant glare of the spotlights illuminating the enormous hold, Gretchen shifted her duffle and backpack, feeling the straps dig into her shoulder. “But the native people that lived nearby said they had seen a bright angel escape from her body. So they built a shrine so they could pray to her for good luck.”