Moderately refreshed by four hours of sleep, Chu-sa Hadeishi swung onto the bridge of the Cornuelle, weaved his way past two engineering technicians replacing padding on the shockchairs at number two Weapons and number three Comm and settled himself into his own station. The bridge crew was currently standing half-strength to make room for the repairs. Midshipman Smith nodded to the captain and switched over primary command.
"Captain on deck!"
"Ship's status?" The v-panels making a half-circle in front of the command chair came alive, showing summaries of ship's status, local space and the greater Bharat system. Mitsuharu registered his identity code and let main comp recognize him.
"Repairs underway on all decks, kyo. Traffic control is light today – a handful of shuttles are in-atmosphere and several merchantmen are unloading, all registered and verified. Nothing's made transit in the last six hours. The threat board is clear."
Hadeishi nodded, lips pursed in consideration. He fixed Smith with a sharp look. "Time to hyper for the Cornuelle?"
Smith blinked in surprise, then his hands were active on his own panel. The Chu-sa ignored him, reading through the latest groundside status reports culled from the Legation and public press.
"Ah, kyo, baseline time to spin to hyperspace gradient and reach minimum safe distance for transit is one hour, sixteen minutes." Smith held his voice steady, but he was twitchy and rattled. "Are…are we going to need to make transit today, sir?"
Hadeishi grunted, then looked at the young officer. Smith, being in comm section, did not stand senior officer on duty watch very often. The Chu-sa considered him for a moment, face impassive, and then decided there was nothing to be gained by reprimanding the boy. Not this time.
"Unlikely, but not impossible Sho-i. Keep this in mind at all times."
"Hai, kyo!" Smith shrank into his chair. Hadeishi turned back to the departmental status reports. Repairs were indeed underway on all decks. Isoroku and Kosho are not wasting any time… Every hand not already ripping up worn-out nonskid or cutting out damaged plating was unloading cargo shuttles as fast as they arrived in the number two and number three boat bays. The Chu-sa allowed himself a tiny smile. Real food for a change. Yejin will be pleased, and the crew will swoon with delight to eat something with unfamiliar molecules.
"Smith-tzin? You're on duty for the next half-watch?"
The boy stiffened as if shot. "Yes, sir."
Hadeishi tapped a glyph to transfer a recording of the midnight comm call to the Sho-i's panel. "Review this. The situation on the planet is deteriorating, but no one at the Legation can put their finger on the cause – I wonder if someone is stirring up the locals. Do what you can to verify these reports. If you find anything unusual, strange or simply out of place, let me know immediately."
"Hai…kyo? Do you think there are, ah, separatist agitators active on Jagan?"
"Swedish or Danish terrorists, you mean?" Hadeishi smoothed his beard, considering the prospect. "If so, they're a long way from any system sympathetic to their cause. Difficult to support operations out here without a fleet…but not impossible."
Smith nodded and turned back to his panel. Hadeishi frowned, wondering if the outlawed 'Swedish Naval Research' or its Danish equivalent might have changed their operational patterns. No. There's nothing here to invite their interest…wait a moment! There is one target of opportunity for them here. Not one whom anyone would miss, but still…
"Smith-tzin, find the Imperial Prince Tezozуmoc and keep track of his locator. Just in case the long arm of the gaijin has reached out here to do him mischief."
Sweat ran freely from Senior Engineer Isoroku's bald head as he knelt on the floor of the officer's dining room, a metal saw howling in his hand. Showers of red sparks burst around him as he cut the last of the damaged panels free from the underfloor supports. The saw whined back to silence and the engineer shuffled back on his knee-pads. "Done," he coughed, and then cleared his throat of hexacarbon dust with a long swallow from his water bottle. "Take it away."
Two Marines privates – seconded to Engineering for the duration of repairs – ducked in and hefted the heavy panel. Grunting, they duck-walked out of the mess and stacked the partially melted chunk of metal on a grav-lifter in the corridor outside. Isoroku spat to clear his mouth and then thumbed the cutting blade on his saw over to a finishing surface.
Deftly, he ran the blade over the jagged edges, burring them down to a smooth bevel. The elderly Nisei abhorred sloppy work, even in locations – like the sub-floor supports – where no one would see his care and attention. This particular project was very relaxing too – a far cry from trying to clear and seal compartments shattered by battle damage, while alert horns blared in your ear and Khaid cluster bombs shook the ship like a rat in a Kochi terrier's mouth. Isoroku was fond of carpentry, particularly making cabinets and furniture. The chance to rebuild this whole suite of rooms brought a faintly pleased expression to his habitually impassive face.
"Kyo? Do you want the new flooring in now?" One of the Marines, sweat making his face shine like polished mahogany, leaned in the doorway. Most of the corridor was filled with stacks of pre-cut floor panels. Isoroku had arranged a very sweet trade, he thought, with the Development Board warehouse. All of the hexacarbon floor plating – even the sections gouged and damaged by combat – for four times the amount of highest-grade native lohaja, cut and planed to his specifications. The wood was incredibly wear resistant and took varnish to a truly beautiful gloss.
To his even greater delight, the lohaja was too hard to cut with the paltry set of woodworking tools aboard, so he'd been forced by circumstance to dig into the departmental budget to acquire – again through the sources Helsdon had found on the planet – a complete, matching set of Sandvik power tools designed to cut, finish and fit the native woods. Isoroku was itching to try them out. The tools themselves were works of art.
"Not yet. Not yet. Let me finish edging these support s…"
His personal comm chimed and the engineer sat back, turning off the saw and locking the safety cover in place. "Hai?"
This is Hadeishi. How are repairs progressing?
"Very well, sir!" Isoroku plucked a hand-comp out of his toolbox and thumbed up the current status display. "We're on schedule for repairing all the non-critical battle damage we've accrued in the past nine months. I'm in the dining room now, replacing the flooring. Crews are replacing the passageway vent filters by alternate decks. We've got one water recycler down while we flush and scrub the tanks before refilling with fresh supplies. The other will get the same treatment the day after tomorrow. Supply replenishment is underway – though you'll have to ask Sho-sa Kosho about her time-to-complete."
There was silence on the link, and Isoroku started to frown. When the captain started asking for status reports, something was going on. The engineer's forehead furrowed and he rubbed his pug-nose vigorously, trying to clear the metallic bite of ozone away.
Thai-i, I want you to scale back your repair schedule. A situation might be developing on the planet and we can't go to combat acceleration if you've got the corridors filled with unsecured construction materials.