Wasteland of flint

covering his palms. 'But I have learned – at cost, Anderssen, at cost! – this is not true. There are limits to human perception and human science – but those limits do not correspond to the limits of the universe. Not at all.'

The old Mйxica looked up, gauging the progress of the sun against the dome of heaven.

'Time is passing, Anderssen. Consider this, while we are in flight: We – by we, I mean humans like you and I – exist within a bubble of the known. What we can see or hear or taste or feel. From this we have derived a description. This description is your science. Within the known, we build tools, live our lives, raise our children. Those tools let us manipulate the known, the material.

'But what of the unknown, Anderssen? What about the things we do not perceive? There is a universe of ghosts and shadows just beyond our living sight. Do you doubt the presence of the unseen?'

Gretchen shook her head. 'No – I get your point. A human being doesn't even live in the same perceptual universe as a cat. Not without tools to extend vision, sight, smell, hearing. Are you saying your training lets you perceive the infrared or ultraviolet? See as a baleshrike sees? Smell as a truedog smells?'

'No.' Hummingbird stood up and shook out his cloak. 'I am bound by my physiology, just as you are. My nose – for example – does not have the physical receptors to capture the wealth of molecules a beagle may.' He grasped the offending organ between thumb and forefinger. 'Anatomy limits me. But laziness…laziness blinds men.'

'Then what are you talking about?' Gretchen stood and swung open the Gagarin's cabin door. 'What do you mean?'

'Did your eyes physically change between the time you first walked out onto that soccer field and today?'

'No.' Gretchen climbed into the cockpit of the Midge and squirmed into the lumpy seat. 'They're probably worse. All right, so I know what to look for. I can recognize patterns -'

In the other aircraft, Hummingbird shook his head sharply. 'Not so. The enemy of clear sight is accepting patterns in the world around us. To see clearly, you have to let your eyes take in what is truly before you, not allow a lazy mind to fit things into a familiar shape.'

Anderssen closed the cabin door and began running through a preflight check. She started to speak and then looked closely at the control panel. Most of the Gagarin's instrumentation was held in a v-pane, but there were certain systems served by archaic-looking dials and switches. Everything you need to fly without the comp being live, she realized. Gretchen ran a hand over the console, feeling smooth metal and rubber under her gloved fingertips. Most of the dials had cream-colored backgrounds with red needles or indicators. Flecks of rust were visible where the enamel covering the metal had worn away.

For the first time, she actually saw the console and all the minute, tiny details of wear and use. Not the sketchy, abstracted impression she'd had of the control panel before. Almost immediately, Gretchen felt her mind try to draw back – an almost physical sensation – and the sense of limitless clarity faded. She blinked and concentrated, trying to see the numbers on one of the dials. Now they were blurry and she started to squint.

'Focus is an enemy,' Hummingbird said softly over the comm. 'You're trying to limit your field of view in hopes of gaining clarity. Forcing sight won't work.'

'How do you train, then?' Gretchen blinked furiously. Her eyes hurt. Her brain hurt! 'How do you reach an objective without pursuing a goal?'

'You've already started – in the cavern – when I guided you to a natural posture. When you found a comfortable place to sit.' The nauallis was starting to sound a little irritated. 'We will talk of this again, later. Are your engines warmed up? We should lift off.'

'Wait. Why are you showing me these things? Telling me these secrets?'

Hummingbird smiled, white teeth barely visible through the scarred canopy of his ultralight. 'My other option is to kill you. But you are alive and a human being and your presence aids me. The universe is connected in odd ways and you might tip a balance in my favor. Besides, if things come to violence, you can get in the way of the enemy for a few seconds.'

'Oh my,' growled Gretchen, 'that is nice. Very nice. Very Imperial sounding.'

Aboard the Cornuelle

Hadeishi entered a briefing room sandwiched in between the bridge and the officers' mess. His senior officers stood to attention beside their chairs. Kosho turned sideways and nodded as the chu-sa reached the head of the table and set down a v-pad and some printouts.

'Good evening,' he said, unsealing his collar. 'Sit, gentlemen, sit. We are off duty.'

Everyone sat down, though he couldn't say any of them were 'at ease.' Sho-i Ko- hosei Smith, at the end of the table, was sitting at parade attention, hands clasped tight on an engineer's workpad. Hayes and Engineer-second Yoyontzin were equally stiff. Just to his right, Kosho was watching him evenly, her face expressionless.

'This is not traditional,' Hadeishi said, shrugging out of his uniform jacket. 'But I think it is necessary.' A little old man in a leaf-green-and-brown kimono appeared and took the jacket away. Hadeishi spread out the v-pad and several papers. He looked around the table and pursed his lips. 'We have to find this refinery ship swiftly. I fear our current approach will take too long to yield results. So – we need to try something different. Do any of you have any ideas?'

The officers looked nervously at each other, then back at the chu-sa. No one spoke. Hadeishi hid an expression of dismay, but he understood their wary surprise. He had served in the Fleet for nearly twenty years, on a dozen ships. In all that time, he'd never attended a staff meeting where the agenda, problems and solutions presented had not been decided in advance. A commander might consult with his exec or with senior department heads about specific technical issues but he did not discuss problems in an open forum. Meetings were a venue for the command authority – be he a ship's captain or an admiral – to issue orders, perhaps make a small speech and show honor to the Emperor.

Kosho, in particular, looked as if she'd sat on a porcupine. Hayes was surprised and Yoyontzin was petrified. Only young Smith-tzin – who had finally worked through Hadeishi's reference to being 'off duty' – had relaxed at all, allowing himself to sit back in the chair.

'Does anyone want tea?' Hadeishi turned away from the table and lifted his chin at the attendant. The little old man blinked in surprise and then scurried off down the corridor to the officers' mess galley. When the chu-sa turned back, Kosho and Hayes were staring at him in amazement. 'I am having tea,' Hadeishi said, emulating Smith and leaning back in his chair.

'Here is our problem,' he said, spreading his hands. 'We are hunting for a relatively small object in a huge volume filled with a great deal of obscuring debris. Our objective is to find the refinery ship quickly and quietly and remove it, by one means or another, from this system.'

The attendant sidled up to the table, attempting to be unobtrusive, and Hadeishi paused. The little old man froze, staring at him in something like horror, as the chu-sa gathered up the porcelain cups from the tray and handed them around. Kosho took her cup reflexively, then stared icily at her own hand, which seemed to have betrayed her.

'I'll pour,' Hadeishi said to the attendant and waved him away. Clutching the tray to his chest, the little old man backed out of the room, eyes wide in fear. 'Patrick, you take a great deal of sugar, I believe?'

'Hai,' Hayes said weakly, goggling at the chu-sa. Hadeishi filled his cup, then pushed a fat green bowl toward him.

'Help yourself.' Hadeishi turned politely to Kosho, who had frozen into complete immobility. 'This is a particularly good bancha,' he said, guiding her cup – still clutched in a tight grip – to the tabletop. Hadeishi caught her eye. 'Not the nasty stuff I drink in the morning.'

Both of the sho-sa's cheeks were suddenly suffused with two pale rose-colored spots. Hadeishi – though he felt tremendously cheerful – ignored her blush. He filled her cup halfway.

Neither Smith nor Yoyontzin wanted tea. The engineer was hunched down in his seat, trying to hide behind Kosho. The communications officer had finally realized there was a queer tone to the meeting, so he was trying to make himself as small as possible. Hayes had nearly emptied the sugar bowl into his cup before taking a long sip.

'How do we find the refinery quickly?' Hadeishi posed the question again and looked around at them expectantly.

'Not by poking around in the dark with a sharp stick,' Hayes muttered, then froze. Kosho had turned her head to