House of Reeds

'Smith-tzin, find the Imperial Prince Tezozуmoc and keep track of his locator. Just in case the long arm of the gaijin has reached out here to do him mischief.'

Sweat ran freely from Senior Engineer Isoroku's bald head as he knelt on the floor of the officer's dining room, a metal saw howling in his hand. Showers of red sparks burst around him as he cut the last of the damaged panels free from the underfloor supports. The saw whined back to silence and the engineer shuffled back on his knee-pads. 'Done,' he coughed, and then cleared his throat of hexacarbon dust with a long swallow from his water bottle. 'Take it away.'

Two Marines privates – seconded to Engineering for the duration of repairs – ducked in and hefted the heavy panel. Grunting, they duck-walked out of the mess and stacked the partially melted chunk of metal on a grav-lifter in the corridor outside. Isoroku spat to clear his mouth and then thumbed the cutting blade on his saw over to a finishing surface.

Deftly, he ran the blade over the jagged edges, burring them down to a smooth bevel. The elderly Nisei abhorred sloppy work, even in locations – like the sub-floor supports – where no one would see his care and attention. This particular project was very relaxing too – a far cry from trying to clear and seal compartments shattered by battle damage, while alert horns blared in your ear and Khaid cluster bombs shook the ship like a rat in a Kochi terrier's mouth. Isoroku was fond of carpentry, particularly making cabinets and furniture. The chance to rebuild this whole suite of rooms brought a faintly pleased expression to his habitually impassive face.

'Kyo? Do you want the new flooring in now?' One of the Marines, sweat making his face shine like polished mahogany, leaned in the doorway. Most of the corridor was filled with stacks of pre-cut floor panels. Isoroku had arranged a very sweet trade, he thought, with the Development Board warehouse. All of the hexacarbon floor plating – even the sections gouged and damaged by combat – for four times the amount of highest-grade native lohaja, cut and planed to his specifications. The wood was incredibly wear resistant and took varnish to a truly beautiful gloss.

To his even greater delight, the lohaja was too hard to cut with the paltry set of woodworking tools aboard, so he'd been forced by circumstance to dig into the departmental budget to acquire – again through the sources Helsdon had found on the planet – a complete, matching set of Sandvik power tools designed to cut, finish and fit the native woods. Isoroku was itching to try them out. The tools themselves were works of art.

'Not yet. Not yet. Let me finish edging these support s…'

His personal comm chimed and the engineer sat back, turning off the saw and locking the safety cover in place. 'Hai?'

This is Hadeishi. How are repairs progressing?

'Very well, sir!' Isoroku plucked a hand-comp out of his toolbox and thumbed up the current status display. 'We're on schedule for repairing all the non-critical battle damage we've accrued in the past nine months. I'm in the dining room now, replacing the flooring. Crews are replacing the passageway vent filters by alternate decks. We've got one water recycler down while we flush and scrub the tanks before refilling with fresh supplies. The other will get the same treatment the day after tomorrow. Supply replenishment is underway – though you'll have to ask Sho-sa Kosho about her time-to-complete.'

There was silence on the link, and Isoroku started to frown. When the captain started asking for status reports, something was going on. The engineer's forehead furrowed and he rubbed his pug-nose vigorously, trying to clear the metallic bite of ozone away.

Thai-i, I want you to scale back your repair schedule. A situation might be developing on the planet and we can't go to combat acceleration if you've got the corridors filled with unsecured construction materials.

'Kyo!' The engineer sat upright, horrified. 'We reviewed the schedule just yesterday! You and the Sho-sa approved the whole list – we've already torn out everything designated first phase! We can't…we can't just put everything back.'

We're still on a combat duty station, Thai-i. Adjust your schedule to pull and repair a compartment at a time. You must assume we are always a moment's notice from battle alert. The comm-band beeped cheerfully, signaling the channel had closed. Isoroku stared in horror at his wrist.

'One at a time?' Isoroku's voice rose violently and then, with a massive effort of will, he closed his mouth, swallowed a bellowing shout of disgust, and ground both palms into his eyes. 'One at a time…oh, mother Ameratsu, save me from flight officers of all kinds.'

His thick, muscular fingers separated and he peered at the comp pad on the deck beside him. 'My beautiful, perfect schedule…' The thought of having to stand down all of the extra hands he'd been given and having his technicians concentrate on one compartment at a time, rather than addressing entire decks at a go, made him want to weep. 'What a waste of able hands and hours. What a waste!'

For once, Itzpalicue was not in her darkened bedroom, surrounded by the pervasive hum of comps and the sullen glare of v-displays, when a system alert sounded. Instead, the old Mйxica was sitting on the covered veranda running along the southern side of the rented house. Elaborately carved wooden screens blocked out most of the sun's glare, leaving the porch dim and quiet. Some kind of a vine with petite white flowers climbed the roof supports and exhaled a thick, heady fragrance. Her bare feet were in sunlight, and her head was in cool shadow.

Her comm-band chimed again. She opened one eye and regarded the turquoise and silver bracelet sitting on a side table at her elbow, alongside a tumbler filled with the local equivalent of limonata. She had been trying to write a letter to one of her nieces, but the effort of putting pen to paper – the old woman did not send recorded messages – had lulled her into a drowsy nap.

'Ah, Lachlan must still be asleep,' she said when the band chimed for the third time. 'They will wake him if I'm not properly responsive.' Sticking out her tongue at the device, she picked it up and tapped the channel open. 'Yes?'

Your pardon, mi'lady, a tentative voice answered. We've registered a system trace alert. The communications officer of the Cornuelle has begun a planet-wide scan of the local comm networks, including our own and the ship-to-shore traffic control system.

'Has he noticed our cell tap?' Itzpalicue shifted in the chair, sitting up straight, her mind waking slowly from its comfortable doze. 'Are our secure relays compromised?'

We don't believe so, replied the voice. He's only just started. Shall we shut him down?

'No! There's no need to draw attention. Use the relay tap on the Cornuelle to monitor his progress. If he finds any data we don't already have, shunt it to my message queue. If he impinges on our surveillance network, or seems likely to come across the time-delay interfaces on the military and diplomatic comm channels, dial back our presence and let him find the Flower Priest operation instead. The xochiyaotinime can deal with Fleet for us.'

Yes, ma'am. The operator went off-line and Itzpalicue shrugged her shoulders, a little annoyed at being disturbed. 'Lachlan needs to ease up on his staff, I think,' she mused aloud. 'They're far too timid for my taste.'

A private channel glyph started to wink on Hadeishi's command display and the Chu- sa coughed, interrupting Isoroku, who was in the midst of an impassioned speech regarding the sacred and infallible nature of engineering repair schedules. 'We will discuss your concerns later, Thai- i,' Hadeishi said smoothly as he terminated the call. 'I have an incoming call from Sho- sa Kosho.'

'Hello, Susan. How is resupply going?'

Ahead of schedule, kyo. The executive officer's voice was a cool, confident breeze after Isoroku's affronted tirade. Shuttle two has just finished unloading – three months' supply of local firewater, fresh bed linens and a hundred cases of hand-milled soap. Assorted local flavors, but none of them will make you gag.

'I see you and Heicho Felix see eye-to-eye on certain critical matters, Sho-sa. When is the water supply coming aboard?'

Shuttle three is downbound now with the reinforced bladder in place. They should be back in about sixteen hours. I'm preparing to take shuttle two down as well – Helsdon's managed to find us three to four tons of