The Privilege of Peace

by Tanya Huff

*They cut a piece off,* Craig pointed out. *So, yeah.*

  *They cut a piece off?*

  “Talk later, Boss, run now. They’re . . .”

  The Susumi portal klaxon cut him off.

  A ship appeared no more than fifty kilometers behind the two ships belonging to Humans First. Alamber knew the design, but this was the first time he’d ever seen a H’san ship in person.

  “I’m not registering a Susumi wa . . .”

  White light.

  And the Humans First ships were gone.

  “That was unexpected,” Orange observed.

  “You think?” Stars swam in and out of focus, and he opened and closed light receptors. “I don’t . . . I don’t even have the profanity to react to that.”

  *Alamber, talk to me!*

  “Humans First have been dealt with.” The scanners registered a rapidly expanding debris field. Where no piece of the debris read as larger than a centimeter square. How they had been dealt with could be left to a less . . . stressful time. He locked down the board and stood. “Preparing a new distraction. That’s your cue, Orange. Go do your thing.”

  He didn’t see Orange move to the airlock, but there they were.

  “We will not overcome the majority immediately,” they warned.

  “You don’t have to. No matter what you do, you’ll distract the majority so my people can get out.”

  “There will be even greater internal disruption,” Orange told him stepping carefully over the lip and into the airlock.

  “Yeah, but the majority will be concentrating on you, not them.”

  “They will have very little time before the remaining structural integrity collapses.”

  “Lighten up, for fuksake!” Alamber reached for the controls to close Promise’s inner hatch and open the outer. “They’ll have a chance!”

  At the bottom of the universal lock, Orange turned and looked back, directly into the lens of the security camera. The weird soft light in the flexible tube joining the two ships had increased the definition on their face. “We hope we’ll see you again, Warden Alamber di’Cikeys.”

  “It’s a big universe,” Alamber said softly. He frowned at the empty tube. Then he smiled. “You used a contraction. Go you.”

  * * *

  Torin braced herself on Werst’s shoulder as Zhou leaned past her, pointed down a long yellow chute, and said, “Hey, is that the airlock?”

  She squinted. It didn’t help. “Is what the airlock?”

  “The darker bit in the middle of the far end.” He activated his visor. Like Binti, he preferred to go without, so Torin assumed it was a sniper thing. “Yeah. That’s the airlock. And the inner door is open.”

  “I’d feel better about that if I hadn’t closed it behind us,” Elisk muttered. “Looks like they want us out.”

  “Oh, fuk . . . Gunny!” Tylen sounded close to panic.

  Pivoting in place, Torin saw the wall behind them close in, moving fast. It hit Yahsamus first, pushed her into Tylen, and kept pushing.

  “You said something about it expelling us, Gunny?” Yahsamus threw an arm around Tylen’s waist to keep her standing. And probably for comfort, Torin acknowledged. Tayken were better about both giving and receiving than Humans.

  *You’re now the distraction,* Alamber told them. *The majority has more important things to worry about and they want you gone. Orange said things would get hinky.*

  “Orange?”

  “Long story.” Craig cut in before Alamber could respond to Torin’s question. “Fill you in . . . Son of a fuk!”

  Even the Krai lost their footing as their end of the chute rose—two meters, three, four. Fortunately, the far end and the airlock remained a fixed point. Torin grabbed Craig’s arm as it rose out of the jumble of arms and legs and weapons. Swore as a KC swung forward and cracked against her shin. Flipped onto her back as they started to move.

  And pick up speed.

  “Fukker’s raised the gravity at the end of the slide,” Werst yelled.

  “If we hit the airlock at this speed,” Yahsamus shouted around a mouthful of Torin’s vest, “we’re going to break bones.”

  Using both hands and feet, Elisk squirmed out to the front of the pile. “Werst and I will hit first. We’re not as breakable!”

  “You’re also smaller than . . . Fuk!”

  The chute corkscrewed and ended, slamming them into the base of the wall.

  Torin’s cuff showed no debilitating injuries, so she slid out from under Craig’s arm and got to her feet. Zhou pulled a cold pack from his kit and applied it to his nose, his other hand holding a pad under it to catch the blood. Tylen carefully ran her fingers through her hair, straightening crushed strands, then crawled back two meters to retrieve her helmet. Elisk and Werst were muttering together in a dialect Torin didn’t know. When Werst burst into laughter, she ignored them. Craig stared up at her as though he was afraid she’d disappear again if he took his eyes off her. He cradled his right elbow in his left hand, but it wasn’t broken, so right now it wasn’t important. He recognized her expression, grinned, and mouthed, kiss it better later. Technical Sergeant di’Ahaski was also on her feet.

  The only exit was a new opening three point seven two meters up.

  “That’s not good,” Craig sighed.

  “More pheromones . . .”

  “Gods, no,” Zhou moaned.

  “Let me try something.”

  “Bennies . . .”

  “I know.” Torin aimed at the center of the wall. The energy burst sparked blue where it hit, and the center of the wall began to collapse. “Experimental brain charge disrupter,” she explained. “Needs a better name. I took a shot before I was engulfed . . .” The pause was barely perceivable. She had no doubt they’d all perceived it. “. . . but I didn’t see what happened.” She nodded toward the sagging wall. “Nice to know.”

  The exit was now two point four meters up.

  “Krai first,” Elisk said as he leapt up onto the sag and then through the hole, instantly disappearing. “I’m back in the chute,” he called. “No more than a twenty-degree slope heading for the airlock. Airlock pings at half a klick away.” His voice grew fainter. “Gravity at the lock is two percent above Confederation base. Surface is almost frictionless. Can’t stop the slide.”

  “Don’t try,” Torin told him, knowing he’d catch it on implant if he couldn’t hear her. “Werst.”

  “We’ll stand by the airlock to guide the rest of you in.”

  “You’ll get the fuk off Big Yellow.” She swept a gaze around the entire team. “This structure could collapse at any time.” Collapse. Engulfing them all. Had she not been holding Craig’s wrist, her fingers would have been trembling. But she was, so they weren’t, and this still wasn’t the time for a reaction. “If you can get out, you get out. Understood?”

  No one liked it, but everyone nodded.

  *Understood,* Elisk said firmly. Leading by example. Torin would bet her pension he’d wait at the airlock until everyone was out. He’d been that kind of an officer. He’d be that kind of a Warden if they survived this.

  “Werst. Up.”

  “Tylen and I will go last.” Yahsamus stepped back. “Once they get us out, they may stop trying to expel the rest of you.”

  “Good point. Zhou! You’re next.”

  Zhou grabbed the edge and heaved himself through, swearing as his KC caught.

  “Craig. I’d rather land on you than you land on me,” Torin told him when he hesitated.

  For a moment, she thought he was going to argue. Then he leaned in and kissed her before stepping up. “See you on the other side.”

  Bulkier than Zhou and the Krai, he tipped his right shoulder up to use the extra room the diagonal provided.

  “Is that thing getting smaller?”

  “Don’t even think abou
t it.” Teeth gritted, Torin threw herself into a hole in the side of Big Yellow, breathing a sigh of relief when it opened back up to chute dimensions as soon as her feet cleared. Flipping over onto her back, creating as much drag as possible, she watched for the di’Taykan. Tylen first. Then Yahsamus right behind her.

  *Werst and I are inside Big Yellow’s airlock. Outer hatch won’t open until the inner hatch closes.*

  Of course it wouldn’t.

  The chute tipped, tangling Tylen and Yahsamus together and dumping them both on Torin, keeping her from turning back onto her stomach. With their maskers off, the contact wasn’t unwelcome.

  *Zhou’s in.*

  The chute tipped again.

  “Seventy-seven degree angle!” Yahsamus threw open her legs, trying to dig her boots into the side walls, and opening a trench behind them as Big Yellow peeled away from the pressure.

  Another trench appeared under Torin’s heels. And Tylen’s braced hands.

  The walls closed in, preventing them from separating.

  Tylen tucked her head into the side of Torin’s throat, hair tight against her head, helmet lost again. Yahsamus covered them both. Torin wrapped her arms around them as tightly as possible.

  “Not how I wanted to get closer to you, Gunny.” Eyes dark, Yahsamus grinned.

  Torin returned it, closed her eyes, panicked about having them sealed closed, and opened them again. “I hear you, Tech.”

  “You’re fukking heavy, Tech,” Tylen complained.

  *Torin!*

  “Flatten against the bulkheads! We’re coming in hot!”

  “Hot.” Tylen licked a stripe up Torin’s throat and snickered.

  *Craig’s in!*

  In an impressive demonstration of flexibility, Yahsamus managed to get her helmet off and onto Torin’s head. “You’ll hit first. You need it more.” Then she pushed far enough back to press her face against Torin’s stomach.

  All three of them could’ve worked out approximately how fast they were sliding, but too damned fast was all Torin needed to know.

  *Throw your weight to the right!*

  “Whose right?”

  *Torin’s right!*

  They shifted.

  *Again!*

  It was almost enough.

  FOURTEEN

  CRAIG SWORE HE HEARD Torin’s collarbone snap like a piece of dry wood as she hit the edge of the airlock. He definitely heard Tylen scream as a hunk of brilliant pink hair was shorn off to flop against the deck, losing color.

  Yahsamus rolled over both of the other two, flipped up onto her feet, and began pulling Torin, still holding Tylen into the lock.

  “She broke . . .”

  “They’ll lose their legs if that hatch finishes closing!”

  Airlocks didn’t close around biological matter, but this was Big Yellow. He grabbed a handful of both vests and yanked as Torin shoved her legs under Tylen’s and lifted both sets up.

  Tylen’s boots banged against the hatch about a meter up as it locked.

  “Elisk . . .”

  “I know what I’m doing, Gunny.” He sounded amused and slammed his palm down on the outer hatch release the moment the light turned green. He’d dealt with NCOs during his military career, and Craig figured that only the military would be crazy enough to be amused while still in the midst of this shitshow.

  Using her good arm, Torin levered Tylen up into Craig’s grip. He passed her to Yahsamus, who immediately began applying sealant to the weeping stumps of hair.

  “Stretcher . . .”

  “It’s my shoulder. Not my legs.” Torin held out her left hand.

  Craig took it, but also slid his hand under Torin’s side and all but lifted her up onto her feet. Her face had paled, throwing the scattering of freckles on each cheek into sharp relief. He reached out and gently touched her nose with the tip of one finger. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

  “Ryder!”

  He caught the card without really seeing it, only wanting to keep it from hitting Torin.

  “Painkillers,” Zhou told him. “Human.”

  “Thank you,” Torin ground out through clenched teeth. “Now exit the damned airlock before Big Yellow proves how much of an asshole they are. And that, by the way, is why you wear HE suits into enemy ships.”

  Craig caught the silent exchange Torin had with Yahsamus, and realized in spite of injury, the two di’Taykan would be leaving last.

  “Painful, but not debilitating,” Yahsamus told him, her voice gentle enough he wondered about his expression. “Go.”

  “Gotta love endorphins,” Torin murmured as he tucked her good side against him and steered her into the tube connecting the ships. She didn’t need his help, they both knew it. She allowed him to help, and that meant more.

  Almost to Promise, where Alamber had the outer airlock door open, Craig remembered something and gently pushed Torin ahead before he turned, blocking the way.

  “Tech, Tylen. No farther until you turn your maskers back on.”

  “I don’t know,” Torin snickered behind him. “I’m getting used to living in a state of permanent arousal.”

  “I’m not. And you have broken bones.”

  “Bone.”

  “Close enough.”

  * * *

  Held motionless by the autodoc extensions binding her collarbone together, Torin stared up at Alamber. “A H’san ship blew up Humans First?”

  “They popped in close, bathed us all in Susumi radiation, blew them into their component atoms, and popped out again.”

  “Those fukkers!”

  “They saved our lives, Boss.” Alamber’s eyes were so dark the blue had almost disappeared. “I had scanners on the Humans First ships, and they had weapons on line. Weapons with the weirdest fukking energy signature I’ve ever seen—like someone ran a Susumi core through a chemical accumulator. And, weird or not, we saw them cut a piece off Big Yellow, so we know the weapons work. They’d have destroyed the plastic and the team, and taken out the Promise.”

  Torin curled a lip. “The H’san saving our lives doesn’t negate my earlier observation.”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Craig pointed out from where he sat holding her hand, one ass cheek propped on the edge of the bed. He needed to touch her and she was good with that—not only because the broken bone had kept her from showering before being sprayed with the pheromone neutralizer. “We . . .” He indicated the three of them. “. . . know the H’san have weapons.”

  “Locked-down weapons,” Torin interrupted. “Where the pertinent point is locked-down unlike every other species who signed the Confederation accords and destroyed theirs. The H’san made damned sure of that.”

  “Yeah, that’s not all of it.” He glanced at Alamber who shook his head. “Orange—you knew them as the data sheet—told Alamber that the plastic had contact with the H’san before Orange got locked up on Threxie.”

  Torin looked from Craig to Alamber and back again. “And?”

  Alamber shrugged his shoulders, a graceless up and down that told her how upset he was under the Warden costume they all wore. “Orange said the plastic learned about war from the H’san.”

  “And applied what they learned later while the H’san played dumb.” She blew out a lungful of air, anger a blaze of heat at the heart of her. “Go debrief the others. Everyone has the same information before we attach to the Berganitan.”

  “Torin.” Craig lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against the back, whiskers sharp pricks of sensation against the knuckles.

  Not hard to know what he was asking. “Still repressing,” she said, with half a smile. “First we deal with the big picture; I’ll fall apart later.” The beige walls behind the autodoc were too close to yellow. When they got back to Berbar, she’d talk to Craig about repainting.
“I have to center myself before we start dealing with this . . .” Was there a word that covered sentient plastic having an identity crisis, a species that had forsworn violence millennia ago destroying ships and all on board, deputized Silsviss, the probable end of a potential revolution, and pirates?

  “We’ve been using shitstorm,” Alamber offered, answering her silent question.

  “Shitstorm’s good,” Torin allowed.

  He shifted his weight, his hair flicking in counterpoint to the movement. “I would have come for you . . .”

  “I know. But someone with a functioning brain had to be left at the controls.” She beckoned him over with her good hand, then shoved him into Craig’s arms, saying, “Hug him for me, would you.” The hug released the last of the tension between them—she wasn’t blind, and she’d been repairing emotional damage on and off the battlefield for years. “Now, go. Both of you. Bring the rest of the team up to speed.”

  Since becoming a Warden, Torin had accumulated some Dornagain profanity. Once alone, the autodoc humming as it made repairs, she ran through it twice.

  * * *

  • • •

  Big Yellow had disappeared twelve minutes and twenty three seconds after Promise had detached.

  “Disappeared?”

  Werst surrendered the auxiliary controls to Torin, bumping his shoulder against her hip during the exchange. “Given what we know now, it likely slipped into Susumi space, so I’m good with disappeared.”

  “Hey, don’t forget the turning into half a dozen surreal shapes first.” Zhou had taken up Alamber’s habit of perching on the back of a chair, his feet on the seat. “One after the other, weird, weirder, weirdest, then . . .” He held his fingers up to his mouth and blew them open. “Gone.”

  “Can’t say that I’ll miss them,” Torin admitted, rubbing her thumb over the worn dent on the edge of the control board. Even with the break repaired, the whole upper right side of her body ached.

  “You think they’ll be back?” Elisk asked.

  Craig answered before she could. “Yeah, they’ll be back. But next time, they’ll have changed.”