of the data captured by Konev’s shuttle before its destruction, along with everything else flowing into their limited set of radiation-hardened sensors.
Chu-sa Kosho, who seemed to have taken up permanent residence in Main Command, had directed the technical team to modify one of the remotely controlled bots used for hull repairs and use the resulting “probe” to plumb the convoluted architecture of the structure without loss of life.
Xochitl found it interesting, in a nasty way, that the Nisei officer was concerned for the life of even the least of her crewmen. Yakka won’t last long in the Fleet, he decided, without someone to sponsor her. I wonder… He paused a moment, half expecting his exo to kick in and present a list of advantages and disadvantages accrued by his patronage. When nothing happened, Xochitl felt the absence as a kind of unquenchable hunger, twisting his stomach into emptiness. He had not realized, having the exo present his entire adult life, how heavily he relied on the device.
My eyes are flawless, the Prince reminded himself, but how do I see when the world around me is not annotated, described, outlined? It was difficult for him to even navigate the hallways of the ship-no map presented itself, directing his steps, and the kanji -lettered signs and warnings were unreadable. Xochitl was a little stunned to realize that he did not actually know the meanings of all of the rank badges, flashes, and glyphs which informed the knowing observer of all of the hierarchies and authorities within the Fleet. Exo had always been whispering in his mind, guiding his interactions with the military, with the provincial governors, with-with everyone in his life.
I’m a cripple. The thought was bitter ash in his mouth. While the Hjo remains in my proximity.
This, Xochitl realized, was both the core of the problem and the obvious solution. He stood up abruptly and paced over to the xenoarchaeologist at the comm station.
“Follow me,” he said before turning away, scanning the doors leading off of Secondary Command for a room which would suffice. There! Thank Yacatecuhtli, Guide of the Lost, that someone’s put up a sign in Nahuatl!
Xochitl gestured for Anderssen to enter the conference room, and then closed the door lightly behind them. She sat on the edge of a fine-looking red mahogany table which made a hollow circle. The base apparatus for a holocast projector filled the center of the room. Gretchen looked the Prince up and down with open interest, wondering what was on his mind. Something is, for certain. Then she narrowed her eyes, trying to gain a sense of him, wondering if her gift-if it was a gift, and not the product of drugs or the unknown influence of the Adh’atr - would work on a person as well as a potsherd.
Xochitl said nothing, leaning against a cedar-paneled wall ornamented with recessed watercolor paintings of flowers-they looked like pansies to Anderssen’s eye, but she was no expert on the flora of old Earth-and scowling at her with a disturbingly unblinking gaze.
This is very strange, Gretchen thought-but she played along, saying nothing, idly kicking her feet and trying not to fidget. She felt the desire to be back at her console, digging through the reams of 3-v data, or the spatial model, or measurements of the enormous structure, as a physical pain. But still, she waited.
After quite a long time, the door recessed into the wall with a soft chuff and Chu-sa Kosho stepped in, her white dress uniform as immaculate as ever, her fine-boned face perfectly composed.
Seeing her, the Prince snorted rather rudely in amusement and then lifted his chin at Anderssen.
“This is the one who led you through the Barrier?”
Kosho paused at the edge of the conference table, regarding him levelly, and then nodded slightly.
“Then we have a problem,” he declared. “The Naniwa must leave this area immediately. My noble guest, the sian-fengh, has made his desire to flee very clear. I cannot refuse him. Yakka, I need you to keep a close eye on him for me. He’s truculent, difficult and, as you saw-unexpectedly dangerous, but I don’t think he’ll give you much trouble if you put a nargile and some opium back in his hands.”
“Where are you going?” Kosho clasped both hands behind her back, falling into an easy parade rest.
Xochitl smiled, showing a large number of perfectly formed white teeth. “I’ve been thinking about what you said before, about my father-I’m going to do exactly as he asked. I’m taking that little merchant ship in the rear cargo hold and staying behind, while you return to the Barrier wall. I understand she’s well shielded, and won’t cost you something off your manifest if we suffer the same fate as that cargo shuttle.”
He tapped the side of his head sharply. “Find us a way out, Yakka. We have to get out of here before we starve or are baked inside the shipskin, and there’s no sense in you wasting time here while we poke and pry.”
“Thus your problem,” Kosho said coolly. “I’ll need Anderssentzin and her comp models to find a way out, but you can’t get inside the artifact without her. She can’t be in both places at once, can she?”
The Prince nodded, clapping his hands lightly together. “That would seem a puzzle, save I have an answer.” He smiled tightly at the Chu-sa, an expression which made the little hairs on Gretchen’s neck rise.
“That pale, nervous Anglishman you’ve got stowed away in Engineering-yes, I know where he is-give him the telemetry from your passage through the Pinhole and he can reconfigure your sensors to reveal the spiderweb trapping us.”
Beyond a slight nostril flare, Kosho showed no reaction. But Gretchen could feel the woman’s entire body stiffen from across the room, and the answering surge of pleasure in the Prince. What a foul dog he is, she thought, watching the two of them as from a great distance.
“Helsdon is not wholly himself-”
“All the better,” Xochitl snapped, “near-mad as he is may prove to your advantage! I am taking Anderssen here into the artifact, Chu-sa, while you find us a way out of this hole. Is that perfectly clear?”
“ Hai, Gensui.”
Anderssen felt an enormous surge of delight, like golden honey welling up within her, suffusing her arms, legs-even her thoughts-with anticipation.
Two hours later, Kosho looked up at a soft tapping at the door to her private office. “Enter.”
The door slid open and Green Hummingbird stepped in, his feet bare, attired in a simple Fleet undershirt and off-duty trousers. Without his usual cloak and hood, he seemed surprisingly small-until one met his dusky green eyes and then his true stature asserted itself.
“ Chu-sa Kosho,” he said politely. “A word with you, if I may.”
“I believe,” she said, rising and stepping to the door, “that you were confined to the brig, by order of the Prince Imperial himself.”
No one was in the corridor, though Susan was unpleasantly aware that nearly every centimeter of the Naniwa was under surveillance by some kind of recording device.
The old Nahuatl nodded. “I am. Thank you for your concern for my comfort. Your hospitality has been most adequate, but I am on my way to pay respects to the Esteemed One and shall not keep you further.”
With that, he made a polite bow and then slipped out the door again. Kosho stared after him, wondering if she should summon the marine ready squad, have the nauallis clapped in chains and then, perhaps, locked in a room for which there was no key. But then, she thought, starting to feel rising amusement at the thought of seeing the Prince’s face when the escape was discovered, he would wrinkle his way out of that, too. I wonder… Another thought brought her up short. Does Hummingbird believe he will cheat death, too, in the end?
Juggling the possibilities in her mind, Kosho came to the unpleasant conclusion that letting the nauallis go about his business without interference was less dangerous than following the Prince’s orders. Particularly since she was quite certain that Hummingbird knew what he was doing, even if she couldn’t stand him personally. However, she thought, I do need to keep an eye on the future.
Susan then went to her console and tapped open a channel to the brig. The marine officer on duty responded immediately, his young face intent and dutiful.
“ Heicho Adamsky, has someone thought to provide the prisoner in cell one with something to eat?”
Then while she waited for the alarms to sound, most of her attention was on the supply manifests Thai-i Goroemon had forwarded up from Logistics for her review. They were desperately low on every kind of munitions, and only marginally better off for parts, meds, and food. Six months of supplies left, eh? Only if you don’t get a quarter of your stowage vented by a penetrator.
