Thomas Harlan - House of Reeds

"What happened to you?" Susan brushed greasy hair out of his eyes, her fingertips gentle on the patches of gel covering burns on his face. "What happened to our ship?"

Slowly, Hadeishi's eyes turned towards her. They seemed empty, as if his soul had fled already, leaving only a pale, drained husk behind. Weary, he swallowed to clear his throat. "I made a terrible mistake, Susan. I thought we would be safe once the ship was home – once we were in Imperial space."

"A mistake?" Kosho's forehead wrinkled with a single sharp crease. "A saboteur rigged the satellites in orbit as mines – Helsdon and Felix found the power plants had been replaced. No one could have -"

"Months ago." Hadeishi said. "Months ago. Do you…do you remember the day the malfunctioning message drone reached us?"

"In the dead G-4 system beyond Kahlinkiat? Yes, radiation had damaged the -"

"I wiped the drone message store," Hadeishi said, so softly she could barely make out the words. "Or most of it, anyway. The common news, the things the men look forward to, those I left intact…but not the personnel and fleet orders. I erased them all."

"That is impossible." Susan pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. He was icily cold. "Only the ship's political officer has…" Her eyes widened and horror crept into her expression. "Hummingbird gave you the control codes when he left us at Mimixcoa?"

Hadeishi nodded, making the thin, worn linen on the pillow rustle.

"I wanted…the orders…" He stopped speaking for a moment, gathering his strength. "We were ordered home, Susan, to report to Toroson as soon as possible."

"Mitsuharu!" Kosho cupped his pale, worn face with her hands. "That was nine months ago! We've been living on dregs and scraping from system to system…" She drew back, comprehension slowly dawning in her face. Her expression softened minutely. "What did the orders say?"

"We had a good ship," Hadeishi said, eyes distant, staring through her at the overhead. "A good crew. All these years of training and learning how to act as one…moving so smoothly, so effortlessly, without the slightest hesitation…the best crew I've ever had. A fine ship."

"Mitsuharu," Susan tried to catch his eye. "What did the orders say?"

"They were…we were recalled to Toroson to deco mmission the Cornuelle , Susan. They were going to break her up, use her for maintenance parts for other Astronomer -class cruisers. They're…the whole class is being retired from service, or sold, or parted out."

"Oh." Kosho sat back, nostrils flaring, her face perfectly still. "The ship."

"You…" Hadeishi's face twisted and his eyes filmed with tears. "You're a captain now, Susan. A Chu-sa yourself. You deserve the honor, I must say, more than any officer I've ever served with. And Hayes – he…he…made lieutenant commander. And Smith…ifthey're still alive. If any ofthem are. You're bound for the Naniwa – and she's a fine, fine ship – fresh from the yards. You'll…" Tears began to leak up from his eyes in tiny silver droplets and Susan had to turn away.

Imperial officers did not cry. Susan herself did not remember Hadeishi ever showing such raw emotion before – oh, he was fond of laughing and making sly hints and poking fun at her when he thought no one was looking – and he treated the junior officers very gently, by Fleet standards, but this…this was too much for her. She held herself very still, hands white at the knuckles as they clenched on the edge of the fold-out bed.

"You were all being taken away from me," he rasped, barely able to speak. "I was left with nothing. No ship, no crew, no purpose. You see…" He stopped, racked by a gasping heave. "There was nothing for me. No promotion. No new ship. Only orders to proceed to Jupiter to wait on The List. Hayes…Hayes is for the Taiko , Smith for advanced school…Huйmac and the Marines for a training cycle at Syria Planum on Mars. You will all do so well."

Susan closed her eyes, forcing herself to ignore the dreadful sound of his voice. His exhaustion was creeping into her as well, filling her heart with a cold emptiness.

"I just wanted a few more months of your company, Susan. A few more days to have a purpose."

Kosho turned, pressing her hand across his mouth. Her eyes were very bright. "Don't say anything. Nothing. No more." She shook her head slowly, appalled and anguished in turn. "We were out too long, Chu-sa ! Worn down to nothing, spent, exhausted…did you think we were ronin in some old tale? Wandering from town to town, helping the peasants, fighting bandits…"

She stopped, her skin turning the color of fresh ash. "You should have told me. We are Imperial officers, Mitsuharu. We have an honorable duty to attend. We can't just ignore orders…even if…even if they're painful to consider. And the ship…" Kosho looked up at the dead lights on the overhead. "She is dying despite all you've done…we're badly damaged, kyo , they won't even bother to haul her back to Toroson."

Hadeishi closed his eyes, turning his head away.

"Oh," Susan said, the brief flare of anger dying, falling away into darkness. She put her hand on the quilt over his heart. "I don't know what will happen to you…"

The room remained cold and quiet, even after he had succumbed to a fitful, weary sleep.

Kosho watched him for a long time, checking his medband now and again. At last, she stirred and forced herself to stand up. The little washroom lacked water pressure or lighting, but she managed to repair her makeup, now badly streaked and smeared, and make herself look presentable.

Then Chu-sa Kosho let herself out and headed for the secondary control bridge. There was work to be done, and – if she could manage to placate the gods of the Fleet – save the careers of her junior officers. Those who lived, at least.

The dead will keep their honor. They will be remembered at the Feast of Spirits as heroes.

Clouds of exhaust fogged Gretchen's view of the city as the Tikikit bus slowed to a crawl. A huge crowd of Jehanan townspeople blocked the street, voices raising a huge, frightened murmur, claws scraping alongside the vehicle and clattering against the windows. Anderssen stared out in alarm, barely able to make out the stone awnings over the bus stands through the moisture on the windows. Torrential rain poured down, turning the street into a muddy river.

" Hoooo… Taste the fear in the air!" Malakar leaned at her shoulder, long snout pressed against the glass. "Such a crowded city this is!"

"This is much worse than last time," Gretchen said, feeling the bus shake from side to side as the crowd surged against the vehicle. A clamor of hooting and warbling made it hard for her to hear. "Everyone is trying to flee -"

"Should we leave the bus?" The gardener folded one claw over the other, eyes wide. "Where will we go? How will we pass through such a throng?"

"Our hotel isn't far," Gretchen said, wondering if they could manage to move through such an enormous press of people. A wild face appeared momentarily at the glass, a young Jehanan trying to scramble up onto the roof of the bus. The window made a splintery sound as his clawed feet scrabbled on the sill. "What else can we try? If we stay here, they'll push the bus over."

Anderssen took a breath, readied herself to plunge into the fray and patted Malakar on the shoulder. "Come on."

Chuffing exhaust, the Tikikit bus inched into one of the quays in the station. Hundreds of Jehanan, nearly every one of them laden with baggage, pots and pans, bedding, and wicker baskets filled with personal effects, overflowed from the waiting ramps into the road and packed the open floor of the station itself. Gretchen pushed down the stairs from the bus, shoving aside a Jehanan matron trying to claw her away aboard while shrilling wildly in an unknown tongue. Malakar tried to apologize, but had to stiff-arm a frantic male to keep from being thrown to the ground.