reached-”
“But I have no ship,” he said, blinking, trying to take in the abrupt end of his career as a plain envelope pinched between thumb and forefinger. “No duty, no… no…”
He stopped, lips pursed, dark eyebrows narrowed over puzzled, wounded eyes. Susan could feel his mind whirling-imagined touching his brow would reveal a terrible, fruitless heat-and her own face became glacially impassive in response to his distress.
After a moment, Hadeishi’s eyes focused, found her, remembered her words, and his head tilted a little to one side. “What of the others? Or am I the only one small enough to be caught in the net of accountability?”
The corners of Kosho’s eyes crinkled very slightly. “Great care was taken that no Imperial agency be found at fault. The Fleet Book shows you fought the Cornuelle against vicious odds-”
Hadeishi stiffened, astonished. “Fought? Fought! I was taken unawares by a weather satellite network -our ship crippled, our crew decimated-our only struggle was to stay alive while repairs were underway and the ship kept her nose up!”
Susan nodded, saying. “Representatives of the Mirror-Which-Reveals-The-Truth mentioned this on several occasions-as a mark against you. But the Admiralty has no love for spies and informers, or for the clumsy Flower War priests who sparked the Bharat revolt. They would not let you hang for a botched Mirror project. Not when it meant a smudge on their own mantle!”
“But-”
“They cannot give you a ship, Chu-sa. Not with so many powers quarreling over the blame.” Susan frowned, then allowed herself a very small sigh. “Colonel Yacatolli fared no better-he’s been posted to a sub-arctic garrison command on Helmand-while Admiral Villeneuve was actually reprimanded, with a black mark struck on his duty jacket for failing to provide Cornuelle with munitions resupply-and Ambassador Petrel has simply left the diplomatic service.”
Hadeishi’s eyes flickered briefly with anger, before he snorted in cynical amusement.
“Did the tribunal assign any blame in this wretched turn of events?”
Susan nodded. “HKV agitators have been blamed for inciting the local population to rebellion against the Empire.”
“The-they are blaming the Europeans for this?” Astonishment flushed Hadeishi’s countenance with a pale rose-colored bloom. “There has not been a European resistance movement in extra-Solar space for nearly fifteen years! Not since-”
“I know.” Susan’s voice was gentle. “Nonetheless, the tribunal has declared a Finn named Timonen ringleader of the whole sorry affair-and he is conveniently dead, his body disintegrated.”
Mitsuharu snorted again, dismayed. “Do they even care what actually happened?”
Susan shook her head. “They are overjoyed with the Prince’s performance.”
“The P- No, you make a poor, poor jest, Sho-sa. Not-”
Kosho-at last-let her properly impassive countenance slip, showing a flash of dismay. She dug into her jacket and produced a carefully folded tabloid. The busyink lay quiescent while Hadeishi unfolded the paper, before flashing alive with colorful diagrams, animated graphs, tiny low-res videos… all the appurtenances of modern news.
A sallow-faced youth with unmistakable Mexica features popped out, pockmarked walls visible behind his shoulder, smoke coiling away from hundreds of bullet holes, the glossy black of his Fleet shipskin spattered with blood, a heavy HK-45B assault rifle slung over one shoulder. The boy-he must have been in his late twenties, but he seemed much younger-was grinning triumphantly.
“The hero of the hour,” Kosho drawled, “savior of the legation, captor of the native ringleaders… Tezozomoc’s public image is shining and bright this week. Someone, somewhere, is very pleased with themselves for this bit of… editing.”
Hadeishi stared at the picture, impassive, eyes hooded, and then turned the tabloid facedown on the mat beside the parchment envelope. For a moment he pressed both palms against his eyes, head down, breathing through his nose. Kosho waited, wondering if her old captain would react as she had. I should have brought a sidearm, a ship-pistol, something… to stun him with. When he becomes violently angry. When he threatens to “All this…” Mitsuharu did not look up. “Our dead-our broken ship-the wreckage on the surface-my career-it was all for him? To polish his reputation, to give this dissolute Prince some respectability in the eyes of the public?”
“The Four Hundred families cannot allow a Prince Imperial,” Susan replied, voice carefully neutral, “to seem the buffoon, to be known as a wastrel, a drunkard, a party-addict… the Emperor is no fool. Even the least, most laughable member of the Imperial Clan must be seen by the general populace as a potentially terrifying warrior of unsurpassed skill. Particularly when Temple of Truth runs a popular weekly featurette detailing his latest lewd binge…”
Hadeishi rocked back, eyes still closed, fists clenched white to the knuckle. Susan waited, feeling a tight, singing tension rise in the pit of her stomach. After ten minutes had passed, the man’s eyes opened and his shoulders slumped. Hastily, Kosho looked away, giving her old commander the illusion of privacy, though they were no more than a meter apart.
“So I am the last, least fish caught in this flowery net.”
Susan did not reply, her gaze fixed on the rear wall of the teahouse.
“And I am left with nothing.” There was the crisp rustle of parchment. “You are to await the pleasure of the Emperor,” he read, “should he have need of your service.” Hadeishi sounded utterly spent. “How long, Sho-sa, do you think I will wait? A year? Two years?”
Forever, she thought, feeling the tension in her stomach turn tighter and tighter. You will be forgotten, like so many other disgraced captains before you.
“There is nothing to say, is there?” Hadeishi lifted a hand and scratched slowly at the stubble on his chin. “There are never enough combat commands for all those who desire them… who need them. Not without some great war to force the hand of the Admiralty and inspire a new building program.” A tiny spark of anger began to lift the leaden tone from his words. “Not when political favor can be exchanged to see some well-connected clan-scion at the helm of a ship of war-”
He stopped abruptly. For the first time, Mitsuharu focused fully on Kosho’s face. A clear sort of penetrating light came into his eyes, wiping aside the despair, but leaving something far more tragic in its place.
“You’ve your fourth zugaikotsu,” he whispered, lifting his chin at the gleaming skulls on her collar. “At last.”
Hadeishi bowed in place, as one honorable officer might to another. “ Sho-sa, I regret the words just spoken. I do not impugn the nobility of your birth. Of any man or woman in the Fleet who has borne my acquaintance, you- you are worthy of a ship.”
The cable of tension in Susan’s stomach bent over on itself, wire grating against wire.
“The Naniwa, I hope,” Mitsuharu ventured, recalling a dim memory. “She should be out of trials by now… did they hold her for you?”
Kosho nodded and felt a sharp pain in her gut, as though the imaginary cable had frayed past breaking and steel wires spun loose to stab into her flesh. “They did. She is waiting at Jupiter for me right now.”
There was the ghost of a smile on Hadeishi’s lips. “She is a fast ship, Susan, new and bold… tough for her size, but still no dreadnaught! I pulled her specs months ago. A sprinter she is, not a plow horse, not a charger… you’ll need to keep her dancing in the hot of it-no standing toe to toe-not with the armor she lifts. In and out, missile-work and raids…” The momentary surge of energy failed, and his eyes grew dull again. “You’ll do well… a Main Fleet posting, I’d wager… something where you’ll be seen, noticed…”
Where my family connections can lift me up, Kosho thought bitterly as he fell silent. Where my advantage of birth can show its strength. Where the son of a violin-maker and a shop clerk would not even be accorded the time of day by his fellow officers.
“ Chu-sa -”
“Say nothing, Sho-sa. Say nothing.”
“No. You are the finest combat commander I’ve ever met. All of my skill springs from your example. You will be wasted on the List, waiting for some… some scow to need a driver. Let me…” She struggled to frame the proper words, failed, and blurted out: “Enter my service, Sensei. You’ve the heart of a samurai; let me make you one in truth. Then you will command a ship again! Come with me-”
Hadeishi stiffened, almost recoiled, and a quick play of emotions on his agile face exposed-just for an
