Wasteland of flint

and plastic permeated the air. The atmosphere recyclers in Engineering had been operating over capacity since the Cornuelle had launched from the Teotihuacбn Fleet contract yards sixteen years ago. A packet of schematics were crammed under his left arm, while his right fumbled for a fresh tabac. Spying Master's Mate Helsdon and his crew swarming over a box-shaped structure in the middle of the bay, the engineer turned their way, scowling furiously.

'Helsdon – come down here.' Yoyontzin ignored the other machinists, most of whom were packing up their tool bags or doing fine finishing work on the sheets of hull fabric plated onto a big open framework of hexacarbon pipe. The Nбhuatl lit the tabac and puffed furiously, feeling his nerves settle slightly, while the master's mate pushed up his work goggles and shut off a sealing torch.

'There's an addition to this platform,' Yoyontzin said when Helsdon had climbed down, rubbing his face clean with a very dirty cloth. The engineer opened the packet on a nearby work table. Like every other square meter of the engineering ring, the metal surface was discolored, scored, chipped and pitted. It was also antiseptically clean. 'Chu-sa Hadeishi just called down. He says to disable the broadband and laser comm on the platform. He wants a wire-spool instead.'

Helsdon knuckled his chin, looking over the schematics. 'How far from the ship to the refinery? Ah – six k – that's a bit of wire. Do we have that much comm wire?'

Yoyontzin nodded, his nervousness fading a little bit. 'Of course – first thing he asked me. I've got a crew bringing it up from stores. So – you'll need to mount it underside, I think, keep the spool out of the way of the gas exhaust.'

'And a patch to local comm. Wait – how is the assault team going to interface with a wire-based comm system?'

Yoyontzin grunted, exasperation plain on his face. 'One of the Marines,' he said in a rather disparaging tone, 'is going to run a second wire roll from the platform into the refinery. We have…' He dug a glossy sheet covered with cutaway views and a picture of a combat trooper standing in a field out of the bottom of the stack. '…a field relay unit, Marine code 'Snorkel', which runs off the wire and handles short-range, scrambled comm. Backpack-sized unit.'

'Sure.' Helsdon shrugged. He didn't have the time or energy to worry about what the Marine assault squad was going to do once they were inside the refinery ship. His concern was refitting a maintenance platform to get them there and back again. 'Do you have the unspool speed for the wire? Oh, good. Yeah, we can mount this – take a couple hours.'

'Get on it.' Yoyontzin's brief moment of good humor faded, remembering the rest of his discussion with the chu-sa. 'There are some other…things.'

Helsdon made a questioning motion with his hands. The engineer stubbed out his tabac on the edge of the table and then ground the rest out under his boot. The master's mate said nothing, but his mustache twitched in surprise.

'The platform needs to be ready to go at a moment's notice. We have the refinery ship on visual now, so as soon as the Marines are ready and command has double-checked their scan data, we'll be standing by for the order from Hadeishi-tzin.'

'Right,' nodded Helsdon, separating out the diagrams he would need for mounting the wire spool. 'We're going to move the EVA platform up to boat bay two. The Marines usually assemble there and the lock doors are facing the right direction. What else?'

'Double-check everything.' Yoyontzin's fingers were trembling and the look on his face made Helsdon stare in mounting concern. He'd never seen the engineer second in such a nervous state. 'I mean it. The chu- sa is going in with the Marines.'

'What?' Helsdon rubbed his ear, refusing to believe what he'd heard. 'You're drunk.'

'Wish I was.' Yoyontzin tapped another tabac out of the pack and jammed it into his mouth. Pinching the lighting paper from the end and taking a deep drag seemed to steady him. His deep-set eyes narrowed in amusement. 'I'll bet Heicho Felix is going to faint when she hears.'

'I'll take that bet,' Helsdon said, rather sharply.

Yoyontzin was surprised. 'You're on – how does five quills sound?'

'Twenty.' Helsdon crossed his arms, squinting at Yoyontzin. 'If you're giving money away.'

The pressure door to Hadeishi's office recessed with a hiss and then slid out of sight into the bulkhead. Susan Kosho stepped down into the comfortably-cluttered space. Her white duty uniform glowed in the dim light, sharply distinct from the dark-hued books and paintings covering the walls. Both of her hands were tightly clenched into fists.

'Chu-sa?' She looked around with a compressed, mostly-hidden expression of distaste. The untidiness of the commander's personal space always made her nervous, though the old man in charge of Hadeishi's quarters kept them scrupulously clean. There were just too many things here.

'Over here,' Mitsuharu's voice came from a side compartment.

Susan trod gently across deep-piled rugs and paused in the inner doorway. Hadeishi had folded a table down from the wall of a narrow room lined with cupboards. The exec glanced around, puzzled, and then recognized the area as a servant's laundry station. The clever table was an ironing and mending board.

'What are you doing?' Susan stared at the combat suit laid out on the table with something like despair in her almond-shaped eyes. Hadeishi failed to suppress a small, polite smile. He was in an old, rather worn-looking short- sleeved kimono of dark blue silk. The back and shoulders were covered with a delicately stitched wading crane and cattails in golden thread. He turned his attention back to checking the suit seals with a microscanner.

'Prepping my suit,' Hadeishi said. 'Heicho Felix reports her squad has finished gear- check and is now ready to go, so I would be holding things up but Engineering is still mounting our hardline comm system.'

Susan looked around for a seat, found nothing apparent – though she suspected some of the cupboards might slide out or fold down to make one: they had in her grandmother's house – and settled into parade rest instead. 'You are determined to carry through with your…plan.'

Hadeishi nodded, turning over one of the black, metallic sleeves of the suit. The surface was formed of overlapping, flexible ceramic plates. 'Those skilled in war subdue the enemy without battle. If I go myself there is a chance of such success.'

'Or you may be killed. This is a very risky maneuver.'

Mitsuharu looked up, his narrow face grave. 'I know. The art of maneuver is the most difficult – but in this tiny moment of opportunity, we do have some room to move. We hold a positional advantage. Given such an opening, I will risk myself for the best outcome. If we are killed or captured, you know what to do.'

Susan nodded, staring at the combat suit with ill-disguised disgust. 'You should not have loaned Fitzsimmons and Deckard to the civilians. They are our most experienced assault troopers.'

'Water flows.' Hadeishi replaced the sleeve and took up the other. 'Felix will do.'

Susan made a grunting sound and her pale, smooth forehead gained a sharp vertical crease. 'Her performance in the combat sims has only been marginal. If there is resistance -'

Mitsu raised a hand and the sho-sa fell silent. 'If you,' he said quietly, trying to catch her eye, 'are commanding the defense of the refinery with the vigor you showed in the sims, then I expect we will all die. But you are here, not there. Felix will be fine.'

'Very well.' Susan clasped both hands behind her back. Her gaze was fixed on a point somewhere over his head. 'Navigation informs me our best-path return course to the planet will now take eleven days. I believe the tlamatinime Hummingbird requested we retrieve him from the surface in only ten days.'

'We will not be returning to the third planet until our business here is concluded, Sho- sa. But I appreciate your diligence in bringing this matter to my attention.'

'Kyo, the tlamatinime and the archaeologist could easily have encountered -'

'They are in some danger, true,' Mitsuharu interrupted gently. 'But they will be fine. Hummingbird will be fine. He always is. Our business is here, with the refinery. And it will be resolved very soon, one way or another.'