Hummingbird did not respond, his face becoming even more still, more masklike. Disgusted, Gretchen turned away and climbed the steps into the shuttle. A crewman inside the door directed her forward and the pressure door levered up with a hiss to close with a solid, heavy thud.
Settling into her seat for the thirty-minute flight to the Palenque, Gretchen rolled her shoulders and let out a long, angry hiss. Against all expectation, she'd thought Hummingbird might trust her just a little. Stupid old fool. Did he think I'd blab to everyone what I saw, what I did? I work for a bureaucracy too.
And that thought crushed the rest of her lightheartedness. She rubbed her left eye, feeling an incipient twinge. Reports. Oh, the reports I will have to file. Company property, loss of – one Temple-class starship gutted, one completely equipped base camp abandoned, two Midge-class ultralights destroyed, two Komodo-class shuttles severely damaged, ten Company staff dead in the line of duty – data recovered, minimal. Artifacts recovered – none. Opportunities for follow-up research – none, system sealed by Imperial interdict. Chances for staff to publish data and gain tenure, university position or even a publication byline – none, data sealed by order, Imperial Office of the Tlachialoni - the Mirror-Which-Reveals.
Sullenly, she stared out the window, though the sight of the Palenque drawing closer did not lift the gloom weighing on her. Maybe I should tell someone what happened…not the Company, maybe a 3v'zine like Temple of Truth or the Xonocatl. Then I'd have a few quills to shake in my hand.
Ctesiphon Station, Just Within Imperial Mйxica Space
This time they had docked in the Fleet section of the docking ring of the enormous station. Everything was clean and shipshape, with deckhands and loading trucks to help them haul their gear from the Palenque. Even the air was quiet and cool, without the humid cattle mob of the commercial landing. Parker, Magdalena and Bandao were waiting at the end of the lock tunnel. The pilot was puffing on a tabac with a blissful expression on his face.
"Pack-leader! You look cheerful for a change." Magdalena grinned, showing only the tiniest points of sharp white teeth. The Hesht had a truly enormous travel bag slung over her shoulder. Anderssen had not asked what was inside, but suspected some equipment listed on the Palenque manifest as "destroyed" had actually survived. Her own tool belt and z-suit gear had been replaced in the same way. The Company was notoriously bad at honoring requests for replacing equipment lost on dig or survey – which resulted in endemic pilfering by all the dig crews.
"I'm off that tub, my initial reports are done," Gretchen said, waving a cloud of tabac smoke away from her face, "and we can go someplace on station where I can buy us all real food for dinner at a real restaurant."
"Damn." Parker stubbed out his tabac. "Do you think they have steaks here? Like, real ones? I mean – you know – Maggie's probably missing food that bleeds."
He ducked away, laughing, though the Hesht's claws were only half-extended in a cub's strike.
"Maybe." Gretchen put her arm around the man's shoulder and raised her eyes to the bulkhead arching overhead, stretching out her hand toward some glorious, unimaginable future. "Maybe we can even get mashed potatoes made from…potatoes!"
"Aw, boss, you're going to make me cry." Parker rubbed his eyes. Gretchen squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. "Next you'll say something crazy like they have real butter."
"Everyone have their gear?" Gretchen looked around out of habit, making sure no one had been left behind and everyone had their baggage and shoes and hats. As she did, Bandao caught her eye and pointed down the curving platform.
Anderssen turned and a smile lit her face. Sho-sa Kosho approached, sword blade straight in a spotless white Fleet uniform. Gretchen bowed very politely as she came up. "Konnichi-wa, Kosho-sana."
"Good morning, Doctor Anderssen." The officer returned her bow. "I am glad to see you and your team together again."
Everyone else bowed politely, and even Parker had the sense to remain silent while their oyabun spoke to the Imperial officer.
"Thanks to the generous hospitality of the Fleet, Sho-sa, we are all in excellent health and spirits."
"Good." Kosho nodded to the others, then stepped aside, hand on Gretchen's elbow. With a meter of polite space between them and her subordinates, the Sho-sa's expression changed. "Chu-sa Hadeishi requests a favor," Kosho said, watching her intently. "A common acquaintance is waiting, a little ways away, and would like to speak to you again."
Gretchen frowned. "Need I guess who? Will he offer me an apology?"
"What passes for one from his mouth would not be acceptable in polite society." Kosho's calm face did not reflect the venom implied by her tone. "I will inform him you had already left when I arrived."
For a moment, Anderssen groped to speak, stunned into silence by the angry glitter exposed in the Nisei officer's eyes. After a moment, the sho-sa stepped back and settled into a pose of polite attention. The movement broke Gretchen out of her paralysis and she managed to squeak out a "No."
Clasping both hands in front of her body, Anderssen made a small bow. "I – we – are in your debt. I would be happy to speak with the chu-sa's acquaintance."
Not very far away proved to be a conference room around the corner. Kosho ushered Gretchen into the rectangular room – cold gray walls, recessed lighting, tatami mats – and closed the hatch firmly behind her. Within, Hummingbird was kneeling beside a low teak-colored table. A leather jacket worked with subdued glyphs lay over his usual civilian attire. Gretchen's attention, however, was not fixed on details of his dress, but a massive gypsum panel covering the rear wall of the room. A low-cut bas-relief showed a pair of short-bodied lions leaping at a crowned man standing in a chariot. The king held a bow raised, one arrow already lodged in the throat of the first lion. Every line of the ancient carving gleamed with meticulous, superbly carved life.
How did that get here? Gretchen was nonplussed by the sight. Then she focused on the nauallis instead of the graven slab.
The old Mйxica inclined his head in greeting, but said nothing. As usual, his face was composed and expressionless. In this clear, directionless lighting, his eyes were flat chips of jadite. In comparison, Hadeishi's face – the chu-sa was standing a polite distance away – positively gleamed with welcome, though a 3v would not have captured the warmth in his eyes.
Gretchen set down her bag, removed her shoes and watched with mild curiosity as Hadeishi made a careful circuit of the room, and then placed a small black box on the table in front of the nauallis. The Fleet captain retired to the far corner of the room and knelt with his back politely turned.
"Anderssen-tzin." Hummingbird seemed to relax, though he remained as straight-backed as ever. His mouth was tight. "I must…apologize for speaking impolitely on the ship."
Gretchen did not bother to hide her surprise and she saw Hadeishi jerk minutely. "Apology accepted."
Hummingbird nodded and the grooves beside his mouth grew deeper. Gretchen stared at him in interest. Words were trying to come out, but the old man was having a hard time giving them breath. "Is there something else?"