“ Chu-sa?” Oc Chac looked up from his own console, his chiseled face gleaming as the overheads flashed three times. “Battlecast needs an update on our course correction. Should I-”
She shook her head, no. “Let’s see what we’ve beaten from cover, first, Sho-sa. Then I’ll report to the various admirals.”
The Naniwa cut in quite nimbly, Susan was pleased to see, using the particle storm kicked up by the Tlemitl ’s passage as a hunting screen, and Juarez’ combat teams had dropped alongside the tiny ship with two shuttles before there was any indication the intruders realized they’d been seen.
Kosho listened intently, a constellation of v-feeds from marine armor cameras unspooling on her main console, as the Socho and his men cracked two airlocks simultaneously and secured the ship. There was some chatter from the inhabitants, but by then the engines were locked out.
She raised an eyebrow, looking questioningly at Oc Chac.
“Registry, Sho-sa?”
“The Moulins, kyo. A ‘merchanter for hire’ out of Denby 47. No more than an asteroid with a hydrogen cracking station and fueling gantry. If memory serves, Denby lies within the jurisdiction of New Malta.”
“A Templar ship?” Kosho was intrigued. “Or even Norsk?”
Oc Chac grimaced. “The Europeans would be mad to meddle in the Prince’s affairs, kyo. But the knight- priests? They might find it amusing to trick about at his tail, all unseen.”
Susan folded her slim arms and stared apprehensively at the multiplane view afforded by the threatwell. This place is drawing far too many players. All for a hazard to navigation? No-the Mirror must think they can gain control of the weapon, or whatever it is, and turn it to our use. But why did the Prince arrive so late? He was never late to any affaire or affray before… curious. Very curious. She tapped open the Marine command circuit.
“ Socho Juarez, what do we have for passengers?”
His report, brisk and efficient as it was, was not what Kosho wanted to hear. Her expression turned quite remarkably sour, as though she’d bitten into a rotten persimmon. Oc Chac waited, his curiosity obvious, while the Chu-sa stared distantly at the threatwell. When she turned to him, he straightened, hands clasped behind his back. “ Kyo ?”
“Loading bay one between the engine ring and the main holds-do we have something stowed there?”
“ Iie, Kyo, Fleet regulations indicate the exterior bays are only for-”
“ Sho-sa, prep the bay to tether that ship. I want it inside our coil field as quickly as we can.” She looked away. “ Socho Juarez, we’re bringing you inboard, but I want a squad on-board at all times, and bring in some Zosen to tear it apart-hidden compartments, look for everything…”
“ Hai, kyo! ”
On the bridge of the Moulins, Hummingbird watched with equanimity as the gaping maw of the battle- cruiser’s rear cargo hold enveloped them. He was keeping an eye on his comp, which chirped pleasantly a moment after they were fully inside the Imperial ship. Anderssen frowned-her hands were clasped on the top of her head, just like Captain Locke and the pilot-and she was staring down the barrel of an Imperial shipgun. The nauallis’ comp was sitting on a side console, still plugged into the freighter’s shipnet, and seemed to be quite busy.
“Who are you talking to with that thing?” she hissed out of the side of her mouth.
“There has been correspondence with the battle-cruiser’s navigational system,” the nauallis said. “Are your bags packed?”
“Of course,” she growled, and then fell silent. One of the marines-his black-on-black nameplate seemed to say Juarez-had noticed their conversation and came over, expression grim.
Before the Imperial could say anything, however, Hummingbird nodded pleasantly and said: “ Socho, please consider my credentials before doing anything rash. I am an Imperial Tlamantinime -a Judge-on official business. This woman is my assistant and we appreciate your commander’s efforts in picking us up.” He twisted his wrist, exposing a comm band, and then submitted quietly as the marine scanned his various forms of identification.
“Huh.” Juarez pursed his lips, looked the motley set of them over, and then turned away, speaking into his throatmike.
Gretchen snorted in disgust, knowing full well there was no way the old Mexica had planned this. “You know, Crow, you remind me of my first field instructor. She really didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t plan. She was clumsy and forgetful. Disasters followed her everywhere, but something always happened to make her look great. She eventually wandered up a pyramid on Go-Long in the rainy season and was struck by lightning.”
Socho Juarez returned, his expression thunderous. “The Chu-sa will speak with you.” He jerked an armored thumb at two of the marines. “ Heicho Gozen, Chayle, the captain is waiting for them in the loading bay overlook.”
“We’ll need our luggage,” Hummingbird interjected, radiating an aura of perfect reasonability. “It will only take a moment, and save time later.” Juarez just stared in bafflement. The nauallis slowly lowered his hands, gathered up his spare mantle, the hand comp, and gestured for Gretchen to precede him out of the control space. Both marine corporals-shipguns at the ready-followed along, a little nonplussed themselves.
Behind them, Juarez shook his head, finger to his earbug. “Are you sure, Chu-sa? This whole ship stinks of an infiltrator… Hai, hai. They’re on their way.”
Clattering down the gangway from the Moulins, half-blinded by the brilliant glare of the spotlights illuminating the enormous hold, Gretchen shifted her duffle and backpack, feeling the straps dig into her shoulder. “But the native people that lived nearby said they had seen a bright angel escape from her body. So they built a shrine so they could pray to her for good luck.”
Hummingbird said nothing, breath frosting in the chill air, his attention fixed on a petite figure in dress-whites looking down upon them from a glassite window halfway up the side of the bay. His two travel bags-made from some heavy synthetic and badly worn, some holes patched over with dozens of transfer stickers-hung heavy in his hands as he walked.
“I like that story,” he replied, after a moment. The marines keyed open a passenger door and they stepped aboard the Naniwa.
The overlook was entirely lacking any amenities-no chairs, no soft couches, no dispenser filled with cold drinks. No heat to speak of, as the cargo hold was actually part of the exterior hull of the warship, which carried the shipskin, weapons, boat and cargo bays, and so on. The secondary hull-probably twenty meters inward from their current position-would be warm and toasty. Gretchen looked around, sighed, and parked her duffle and backpack against the foot of a control console. Then Anderssen leaned back against the metal, arms crossed, and nodded politely to the Imperial ship captain. This one looks very familiar, where… ah now, it’s Captain Hadeishi’s second! I haven’t seen her since that embassy reception on Jagan.
Kosho’s attention was wholly upon Green Hummingbird, and she radiated an icy distaste which matched the room temperature. The strength of her animosity was refreshing to Gretchen, for the Nisei woman evinced not the slightest fear, respect, or deference for the old Crow. That is more like it!
“I see,” the Chu-sa said, lifting her chin slightly. “Now everything is perfectly clear to me.”
“Excellent,” Hummingbird replied, setting down his own luggage. “Then I need not explain. We require a private room with bath, shipnet access, and transport to the science station I believe the Mirror Which Reveals is operating not too far from here. And quietly, too,” Hummingbird said. “This is a privy matter.”
“Is it?” Kosho gave him a steely glare. “I am entirely familiar with my operational orders, Hummingbird- tzin. Your… faction… is not welcome here-your presence forbidden.” The faintest smile threatened to disturb the cold perfection of her lips. “I could have you both shot, buying myself the favor of the Mirror with the same flechette. A bargain, I think!”
Hummingbird became very still. Gretchen watched, wide-eyed, wondering if the sense of sharp, coiled fury
