House of Reeds

restraints. The Arachs with rifles circled the truck carefully, searching for survivors. Itzpalicue's spyeye drifted into the covered cargo bed, lingered on three more plastic crates and she dialed up the magnification on the 'eye enough to read the stenciled lettering.

'Albanian work,' she muttered, thumbing a translator glyph on her display. The angular Slavic letters were familiar, though she hadn't bothered to learn the little-used dialect.

Orkan anti-mobile-armor tactical missile, type three, export restricted, the comp declared.

'Mobile armor?' Itzpalicue frowned thunderously. 'Lachlan?'

The Йirishman's head, dark beard entirely foul with bits of food, turned in the v-pane. The xochiyaotinime did not authorize any restricted imports. Only the outdated KГ¤rrhГ¶k anti-tank missiles. He pursed his lips, consulting a secondary display. This model of the Orkan is designed to neutralize a Fleet powered armor suit, or one of the Tonehua APAC's the 416th has in service. Very nasty – fires a cloud of self-tracking hypervelocity composites with reactive warheads – crew of two, integrated ammunition canisters, low-firing profile…

'Expensive. Someone has been spending freely to entertain us.' Itzpalicue tapped her comm back to the Arachosian ground channel. A second team of highlanders had arrived and the apparently abandoned houses around the wagon-yard were being searched. 'Put your prisoners to the question – who sold them these weapons, where were they going?'

The Arach durbar hissed in reply and knelt over one of the Parusian soldiers. The lowlander soft-scale hooted miserably, eyes fixed on the gleaming edge of the kalang- knife. The glittering point descended and Itzpalicue watched with clinical interest, sound muted on the channel, as the creature writhed and whimpered and finally, when the mud was puddling crimson, she heard what she had been waiting weeks to hear.

The durbar turned, catching sight of the translucent spyeye hovering at his shoulder and exposed many serrated, blackened teeth. The pretty softscale says these weapons came from a light-scaled asuchau. He has brought them many such devices in the last two weeks. This light-scale made many promises of help from 'friends far away.'

'A blond human? Lachlan…' The old NГЎhuatl woman growled, feeling her blood quicken.

I've dispatched a collection team to scope the equipment cases. Perhaps we can recover some skin flakes or hair or something to let us match to known humans on the planet.

'Are any of the Flower Priest agents lighthaired? Is someone playing a double-game?'

Lachlan tilted his head to one side, listening to his earbug. There is one, he replied, a Finn. He's used for high-level contacts with Jehanan elements sufficiently educated in Imperial politics to understand he might represent the HKV. His name is Timonen. His Mirror jacket says he's entirely reliable…

'Bring him in anyway.' Itzpalicue shifted her attention back to the durbar. 'Seal the truck and make sure nothing happens to the contents. Dispose of your captives as you please, but hold position until a pickup team reaches you.' She smiled wickedly. 'You've done well with this capture, durbar. You and your clan will be well rewarded.'

The Arachosian flashed teeth again and saluted the drifting mote with his kalang. His forearm was drenched in blood.

Itzpalicue shifted the feed, eager for news.

Forty-five minutes later, Lachlan interrupted her scanning. His entire face was impassive and tight, which immediately warned her the Йirishman bore poor news.

Our Timonen is dead. A retrieval team has been checking the safe houses the xochiyaotinime provided for his cover as a purveyor of medical supplies, hoping to pick up a fresh DNA trace. They found an unusually high concentration in a bathroom in his Yellow Flagstone district flat. The team leader got suspicious and they tore the place apart. Looks like Timonen was murdered, dissolved with a bio-acid and flushed down the lavatory. Whoever did it cleaned up – the team found bleach and antigen foam residue in the tile cracks – but Jehanan toilets don't flush clean.

'Hmm…' Itzpalicue's white eyebrows made a V over her sharp nose. 'How long has he been dead?'

Decay rates on the remains in the sewer line indicate a week or two.

The old NГЎhuatl woman blinked. 'Strange…that's not much time to make so much mischief… Do we have a track on 'Timonen' afterwards?'

Yes, Lachlan smiled grimly. He's been lead on nearly every contact with the inner circle of the cabal, in dispersing weapons to the factions, in providing intelligence, planning and other supplies. Right at the heart of their whole effort in Parus.

'This is the one,' Itzpalicue snarled, feeling fate gelling around her. 'This is the creature I've felt moving at the edge of perception. Find him! Retask every team in the city, in the whole district. Arachosians, our men, the Whisperers, everyone!'

The old woman sat back, the tips of her fingers running along the rows of maguey spines piercing the sleeves of her mantle. The spines felt hard, smooth and glossy under her touch, like polished bone.

As you say, mi'lady. Lachlan began calling instructions to his subordinates. Then he said: Should I pass this intel about the Orkan to Regimental command?

'No.' Itzpalicue displayed a cold smile. 'Yacatolli and his men are managing. Let them show their true abilities – both the Mirror and Army command will be interested in the results.'

The Cornuelle

A Decaying Orbit Over Continent Four

Clinging to the aft boat bay access door, Hadeishi coughed violently. The cutting tool in his hand flew loose, but was almost immediately stopped by a lanyard cinched to his equipment belt. The Chu-sa tried to breathe normally, felt the cool tickling of more coagulants and stabilizers flooding his body and opened his eyes. Reddish spots confused his vision for a moment, until he realized they were on the inside of the face- plate.

Not a good sign, he thought ghoulishly, keenly aware of a crystalline layer of pain suppression narcotics insulating fragile consciousness from the pain wracking his body. I must be getting tubercular.

He forced his hand to grasp the cutting tool, oriented the microscopic plasma beam emitter towards the emergency access plate cover and thumbed the control. A blue-white flare answered the motion and the beam resumed cutting away the damaged plate. The access door itself was undamaged, but the layer of shipskin covering the mechanism had been mortally wounded, stiffening into a hard, steel-like consistency. The flood of heat from the x-ray laser had distorted the fabric of the shipskin as well, occluding parts of the door and the access port.

Hadeishi completed the cut and the fold of shipskin came loose. Reaching in, he found the recessing bolt, drew it back and the entire cover came loose. Hadeishi felt a surge of relief. Something had gone his way at last, if only finding the green 'ready' light gleaming inside the cover. He punched an override code into the panel and let the Fleet transponder in his suit discuss security matters with the door.

Idle, his stunned mind fixed on the explosion which had obliterated the launch. A point-defense railgun must have targeted us. Ship's ident processor has been damaged.

An unusually long period of time passed as the two systems chattered to one another. Hadeishi managed to keep both hands flat on the door, letting the suit grippers hold him to the hull. He tried sucking some water from a tube in the neck ring of his suit, but his whole chest throbbed painfully and he abandoned the effort. He was very thirsty.

At length, the access door shivered, the bolts retracted and a darkened airlock opened before him. Wary – the emergency lights should be on – Hadeishi drifted inside and spun the locking wheel to rotate the outer door closed. As he did so, a single emergency illumination panel woke to life, strobed intermittently for a few moments and went out.

Hadeishi punched his access code into the inner lock door. Nothing happened, though the ready light was shining green on the panel. Feeling a cough coming on, the Chu-sa braced himself against