House of Reeds

caustically. 'If this world becomes unruly. Or the pochteca cartels need a few extra quills at end of quarter.'

Thai-i - none of these things are fact, to my knowledge. Have you heard differently?

No, sir. The sound of aerocar fans in the background changed. Itzpalicue could tell they were shifting into vertical landing mode. Unbidden, a v-pane opened in a relatively clear section of her panel, showing a video-feed from the Legation. A late-model aerocar, splashed with angular Jehanan script in vivid green paint, was setting down on the staff landing stage. Legate Petrel has been very, very strict about keeping a low profile, adapting to native customs, treating fairlywith the princes… I don't know who is spreading this…it's not us, not the Fleet or Armystaff…

How many, Hadeishi said slowly, in a thoughtful tone, Imperial citizens have business on Jagan?

I don't know, Sagamish replied and the sound of venting fans whined down to nothing. What kind of merchant or tourist is going to spread those kinds of rumors? Be bad for business, I think…

True. The Chu-sa did not sound convinced. Let me know if anything else happens.

Hadeishi closed the connection and stood with a grimace. Even with the unobtrusive assistance of his medband, two hours of sleep was just not enough to clear his head. He yawned and wrapped his robe tighter. Like everything else on the ship, the flannel-lined silk was threadbare. Old Yejin was a deft hand with needle, thread and a fabric sealer, but all things – even high-quality cloth – gave way in time to wear. He sat on the bed, trying to marshal his thoughts, but he was too tired. The best he could do was key himself a note for Sho- i Smith to review local comm traffic in case someone was stirring up trouble on the planet.

Then he fell back into bed and was instantly asleep.

'Lachlan, what did he hear?' Itzpalicue turned her fierce dark eyes on the Йirishman.

Lachlan shook his head slowly, unkempt hair falling into his eyes. 'We've…nothing scheduled on the Flower Priest agitation plot for his district. Must be either the darmanarga-moktar or locals copying what they've heard has happened elsewhere.'

'Coordinated action? Or is the lid starting to come off? Did the attachй provoke something with his neighbors?'

The young Йirishman shrugged, spreading his hands. 'If a local animosity cell has triggered, they're not organizing by comm. The build-out schedule for the wireless network won't even reach this suburb for another two years. So any organization will be face-to-face and we've no tap on that.'

Itzpalicue nodded in understanding. These kinds of operations were always much easier on planets with pervasive comm networks. Here, hoary old rumor had legs like Painal and leapt from city to city with a speed rivaling a t-relay. 'Re-route a Flower Listener into his neighborhood today. See what they can pick up. And have analysis section pull an incident map for the last two days for the whole land of the Five Rivers. This feels…'

She stopped, shaking her head. The agitation pattern running up to the outbreak of hostilities was still quite clear. All of her data sources – both from the Flower Priests, her own comm intercepts and groundside informants – pointed in the same direction. Another week of steadily rising tension would rupture equilibrium somewhere – indicators were good for the shantytown districts of eastern Parus to erupt first, followed by the noble cabal and the princedoms trying to capitalize on the wave of popular hatred. There seemed little need for the Flower Priests to try and ignite the tinder themselves. The xochiyaotinime were past masters of this kind of exercise. The right kind of wind always seemed to blow hot enough to strike sparks.

Itzpalicue squinted at the young Йirishman, who was staring bleary-eyed at one of his displays. His medical readout on her panel indicated he was running on stimulant fumes.

'Lachlan – take yourself off duty for the next ten hours. Take a sleepyhead and rest. Nothing is going to break today. But soon, very soon, we will be quite busy.'

He nodded, stretching, and Itzpalicue closed the comm herself. Almost time to send my Arachosians out hunting, waiting for a break in the clouds hiding my prey.

A nagging feeling stole over her, though the old Mйxica tried to ignore the concern that her opponent – if there was indeed a subtle force acting against Imperial influence – might have stolen away from the field of heroes. She had drawn an empty net from dark waters before.

Itzpalicue pricked her upper arm, letting the stabbing pain clear her mind of such phantoms.

Moderately refreshed by four hours of sleep, Chu-sa Hadeishi swung onto the bridge of the Cornuelle, weaved his way past two engineering technicians replacing padding on the shockchairs at number two Weapons and number three Comm and settled himself into his own station. The bridge crew was currently standing half-strength to make room for the repairs. Midshipman Smith nodded to the captain and switched over primary command.

'Captain on deck!'

'Ship's status?' The v-panels making a half-circle in front of the command chair came alive, showing summaries of ship's status, local space and the greater Bharat system. Mitsuharu registered his identity code and let main comp recognize him.

'Repairs underway on all decks, kyo. Traffic control is light today – a handful of shuttles are in-atmosphere and several merchantmen are unloading, all registered and verified. Nothing's made transit in the last six hours. The threat board is clear.'

Hadeishi nodded, lips pursed in consideration. He fixed Smith with a sharp look. 'Time to hyper for the Cornuelle?'

Smith blinked in surprise, then his hands were active on his own panel. The Chu-sa ignored him, reading through the latest groundside status reports culled from the Legation and public press.

'Ah, kyo, baseline time to spin to hyperspace gradient and reach minimum safe distance for transit is one hour, sixteen minutes.' Smith held his voice steady, but he was twitchy and rattled. 'Are…are we going to need to make transit today, sir?'

Hadeishi grunted, then looked at the young officer. Smith, being in comm section, did not stand senior officer on duty watch very often. The Chu-sa considered him for a moment, face impassive, and then decided there was nothing to be gained by reprimanding the boy. Not this time.

'Unlikely, but not impossible Sho-i. Keep this in mind at all times.'

'Hai, kyo!' Smith shrank into his chair. Hadeishi turned back to the departmental status reports. Repairs were indeed underway on all decks. Isoroku and Kosho are not wasting any time… Every hand not already ripping up worn-out nonskid or cutting out damaged plating was unloading cargo shuttles as fast as they arrived in the number two and number three boat bays. The Chu-sa allowed himself a tiny smile. Real food for a change. Yejin will be pleased, and the crew will swoon with delight to eat something with unfamiliar molecules.

'Smith-tzin? You're on duty for the next half-watch?'

The boy stiffened as if shot. 'Yes, sir.'

Hadeishi tapped a glyph to transfer a recording of the midnight comm call to the Sho- i's panel. 'Review this. The situation on the planet is deteriorating, but no one at the Legation can put their finger on the cause – I wonder if someone is stirring up the locals. Do what you can to verify these reports. If you find anything unusual, strange or simply out of place, let me know immediately.'

'Hai…kyo? Do you think there are, ah, separatist agitators active on Jagan?'

'Swedish or Danish terrorists, you mean?' Hadeishi smoothed his beard, considering the prospect. 'If so, they're a long way from any system sympathetic to their cause. Difficult to support operations out here without a fleet…but not impossible.'

Smith nodded and turned back to his panel. Hadeishi frowned, wondering if the outlawed 'Swedish Naval Research' or its Danish equivalent might have changed their operational patterns. No. There's nothing here to invite their interest…wait a moment! There is one target of opportunity for them here. Not one whom anyone would miss, but still…