by Tanya Huff
She almost asked into what before she realized what he meant.
* * *
• • •
Reattachment to the Berganitan involved only the docking computer—no word from the docking master, no word from the OIC.
“You think they’re ignoring us?” Craig asked as he checked the stats on each individual band.
Torin shrugged, just to prove she could. “I think they have a brig full of pirates, three attached ships, half a dozen paroled Silsviss, and a pissed-off Dornagain. They’ve got a lot going on.”
“Captain Carveg requests the crew of the Promise make their way to the Berganitan.”
“Or not.” She raised her voice. “ASTL Warden Kerr would like to know where on the Berganitan. It’s a big boat.” After two full minutes of silence, she shrugged again. “Probably shouldn’t have said boat.”
* * *
• • •
The docking arm exited into a secure compartment painted a sterile and neutral white.
“Identify yourselves and state your business on board the CS Berganitan.”
Torin assumed the hatch on the far bulkhead—the one that led into the ship—was locked. She also assumed boarding party protocols either hadn’t been shut down at the end of the war or had recently been reinstated. BPPs were usually fatal. “Crew of the Promise, here on the captain’s invitation.”
“Registering implants.”
“No reason for that,” Yahsamus muttered as all eight implants buzzed. Tylen and Zhou, who hadn’t had theirs for a full ten/ten, visibly twitched.
The sound of bolts slamming back probably would’ve echoed had the room been emptied. With eight Wardens filling the space, the slam became a muffled thud.
“Proceed to the far hatch and exit.”
“Not a BPP instruction,” Werst growled.
“First time you’ve entered a Naval vessel from the docking arm rather than the Marine compartment?” Elisk asked.
“Yes, but . . .”
Craig tucked up against Torin’s left side, close enough she could feel the air warm between them. “I think Elisk is trying to say we’re not going to die here.”
Captain Carveg waited on the other side of the hatch.
“Ma’am.”
“Kerr.” She indicated Torin should keep moving and matched her stride. Torin immediately shortened it. The rest of the team fell in behind them. “I thought I’d walk you to the briefing room. Don’t want you lot getting lost.”
“We’d rather not be lost, ma’am.”
“Good.”
The interiors of battlecruisers were designed to confuse boarders and the shortest distance between two points wasn’t. That said, the path Captain Carveg took seemed unusually random. When they reached a ten-meter passageway with no bulkhead hatches, the captain said, “Our orders were to remain stationary, to not engage. Observe only. Mop up when it was over.”
A valid explanation for the Berganitan’s lack of involvement. And yet . . .
“You’re sure the orders came from Command?”
“I’m sure.”
“And who gave Command their orders?”
“This order? The timing says this order was Command all the way to the bottom. We got a return packet almost immediately after sending them the new information about the data sheet. They had no time for consultation with the Ministry.”
Torin made a noncommittal sound. There might not have been time for consultation, but there was always time for a strongly worded suggestion from the people in power. There was a H’san at every Parliament. “The data sheet says the plastic was in contact with the H’san pre-Confederation. They took what they learned about war from the H’san and applied it as part of their social experiment.”
“That doesn’t make the H’san responsible for the war. There’s a very good chance modern H’san have no idea their ancestors were ever in contact with the plastic.”
“No H’san died during the war.”
“The H’san don’t . . .” Captain Carveg huffed out a breath. “Except, apparently, the H’san do. You know about the ship?”
“I do.”
“I have no idea what’s up with that, but I do know the H’san didn’t fight in the war.”
“Neither did Katrien or Niln or Dornagain or Rakva, and yet members of those species all died. There were no H’san on any of the stations or planets or ships that were attacked. There were no H’san involved in the early fatal attempts at diplomacy.”
“And you know this how?”
“The Promise has extensive historical data stored.”
“Clearly.”
“Only the Berganitan could have stopped the H’san warship. The only way to prevent that was to remove the Berganitan from the equation.”
Captain Carveg’s teeth snapped together. “There’s no H’san conspiracy, Gunny.”
“But there’s H’san saying we know best. And H’san saying do as we say, not what we do.” Captain Carveg had seen only one warship. She had no idea of the weapons the H’san had stored. “And H’san saying for your own good.”
“They’re the H’san.” The captain reached to open the hatch at the end of the passageway. “Keep your eye on Command, Gunny. They sent the order.”
* * *
• • •
Ressk and Werst sat three rows up, foreheads together, nostril ridges open, breathing each other’s air. In a corner of the briefing room, A Lie is a Bad Defense boomed out a description of how Ozborz had flown after the pirates, heavy, curved claws clacking together as she waved long arms, Craig and Alamber shifting position when necessary. Beside her, Ozborz ducked and laughed. The other five Silsviss, who were old campaigners, watched indulgently. Or possibly hungrily.
“So, engulfed by Big Yellow.” Binti pressed close along Torin’s left side. “Have the screaming heebee jeebies yet?”
“I’m repressing until I have more time. Screaming heebee jeebies?”
Binti grinned. “Hollice.”
“Of course.” She looked across the room at Ret Tyroliz. Hollice had survived the attack on Silsviss and died with the rest of Sh’quo Company. And that reminded her.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Binti glanced down, and Torin realized her hand had closed around the cylinder that held Lorkin’s remains.
“Thanks, but no.”
“You know where I am if you need me.”
She did.
Elisk stared down at the cylinder as though he’d never seen one before. He’d been Navy, not Corps, so maybe he hadn’t. Had never carried one, two, eight off a battlefield. He knew what had happened on the station above Silsviss because Nicholin had told him. Told him why Lorkin hadn’t returned on the Baylet. Although Elisk had been on the team who’d gone onto Big Yellow for her, although Torin had been on the Promise with him, she hadn’t mentioned the loss. He hadn’t asked, but that wasn’t the point. She’d seen Lorkin as her loss, not as U’yun’s loss, or even the Justice Department’s loss.
Seemed her therapist was right. It was past time for her to stop carrying the dead.
“He lived well.” Elisk closed his fingers. “Keer senhar see jurorik ah ron dye kraiteen.”
“And the tree will grow strong.” When Elisk’s eyes widened, Torin smiled and nodded toward Ressk and Werst. “I spend a lot of time with those two.”
Elisk smiled back at her. Lips curved, teeth covered. “Sympathies.”
“Thanks.” She turned to go, to leave him to grieve with his team, with Lorkin’s team.
“Gunny.” He reached out and touched her wrist, as though one of them had been di’Taykan. “Does it get any easier?”
She didn’t know him well enough to know what he wanted to hear, so she told the truth. “Yes. It does. Unfortunately.” This time when she turned, he let her go.
A double ping from her implant raised a brow in Craig’s direction.
*Look who just came in.*
His expression was so completely neutral, Torin had no idea what to expect when she turned.
General Morris stood just inside the hatch, glaring around the room; the glare likely habit as much as mood. He focused on her as she crossed toward him, eyes narrowing.
“I’m sorry for your loss, General.”
“Damned pirates!” His lip curled. “That was a prototype weapon they blew. There’s nothing left of it. Nothing. We’ll have to rebuild from scratch.”
She waited. But it seemed that was all he had to say. “And the squad of Marines who died?”
“The Marines? The Mu’tuv? They knew the risk. They like the risk. Adrenaline junkies, the whole lot of them. Good Marines, though. The best. Now . . .” He came down hard on the word, making it an order. Now. Not later. “I need to know everything that piece of orange plastic said to your di’Taykan.”
Her hands curled into fists. “To Warden di’Cikeys?”
“Yes, to Warden di’Cikeys,” he snapped impatiently.
She showed teeth. “We’ll see that you get a copy of the final report.”
“That’s not . . .”
“We need to begin debriefing.” He stepped back as she stepped forward, holding his gaze. “You’ll have to leave.”
When he found himself in the passageway outside the conference room, he stopped, cheeks purpling, and leaned toward her. “You can’t . . .”
“Justice Department business, General.” Torin shut the hatch in his face.
She hadn’t heard Craig arrive to take his position behind her left shoulder, but she wasn’t surprised to find him there.
“You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked as they walked together to the front of the room.
Craig shrugged. “You and Morris, you two have history. I was surprised you didn’t punch him this time.”
Torin was surprised she hadn’t wanted to. “I punched him in the pride.”
“Ow. Is that going to cause trouble later?”
“He was part of the designing and building of a new weapon.”
“So?” He turned to face her.
“Parliament wouldn’t approve new weapons while we were at war.” She spread her hands. “No chance they approved one after the war ended. General Morris is going to need to keep a low profile for a while.”
“So . . . the military was acting alone? Building the weapon?”
“They’re also faking skirmishes with the Primacy.”
Craig’s brows drew in and he folded his arms. “You know, I don’t think I like the military acting without oversight.”
“You’re not alone.” Two fingers in her mouth, she whistled. Three Silsviss throat pouches swelled in response. “Listen up, people. We’re not going into Susumi until we’ve sent a full debrief of this multilayered shitstorm back to Commander Ng, so let’s get started.”
* * *
• • •
“The agreement between the Silsviss and the Confederation has been signed. It was the only way the Confederation diplomats could keep Cyr Tyroliz and his people alive,” Commander Ng expanded when both Torin’s brows rose. “The governing council offered us their deaths.”
“The diplomats couldn’t say thanks, but no thanks?”
“The deaths were nonnegotiable. But, as members of the Confederation, a crime against the Confederation is dealt with by Confederation law and they can go into rehabilitation.”
“So we got their lives instead?”
“After their rehabilitation, we may have to hire them. The council doesn’t want them back.”
“Not because they attacked the station, but because they failed.”
The commander paused, hand frozen in the midst of flipping files. “How did you . . . ?”
“I have a skull on my wall,” Torin reminded him.
“Yes, I’m sure that makes you an expert.” Commander Ng returned at least half of his attention to his desktop where cascades of files were stacked six- or seven-deep over the entire surface. “Cyr Tyroliz has already contributed genetic matter to a clutch and none of the others are breeders. I doubt they’ll set any records finishing rehab, so there’ll be time to work something out.”
“Something?”
“Something for them to do, Kerr. Pay attention.”
“Yes, sir.” A new Strike Team on the old budget. She could work with that. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Not your job. di’Rearl Stedrin will be here in a tenday. He can develop a proposal when he arrives.” He opened a new file. “A Lie is a Bad Defense has expressed interest in becoming a pilot. And chasing pirates. I assume the latter will wear off and the former means a refit of one of the control rooms on a C&C ship. Do you have any idea how much that costs? While you were gone, two young di’Taykan led Strike Team Delta to the Humans First base developed and equipped by Anthony Marteau. Between the loss of all three cruisers and the records we found in the base, we’re down to rounding up stragglers. Humans First is not a viable movement . . .” He paused. Frowned. “. . . rebellion any longer.”
“So, about two of those ships.” When the commander waited silently for her to continue, Torin smiled. “Are we not going to address the H’san in the room?”
“They saved your life.”
“Not the point.”
He locked his gaze on her face, his own expression unreadable. “The Humans on those ships were truly despicable people and the universe is better without them.”
“Not arguing but again, not the point. The H’san, after ensuring that all member species of the Confederation destroyed their means to make war have a hidden arsenal.”
“Yes, I read your heavily redacted report.”
“It was a military intelligence mission, sir.” The odds were very high that Marteau had been the money behind the expedition to find the H’san weapons. As MI’s concern about how Parliament would vote on the Younger Races bill was still valid, Torin felt justified in leaving out some of the less immediately pertinent background information. She also had little doubt that information would eventually need to be addressed.
“Military intelligence,” Ng repeated so neutrally Torin couldn’t miss the sarcasm.
“Given their involvement, I believe it was the H’san who instructed Command to immobilize the Berganitan.”
“Conspiracy theory, Kerr. We need evidence. Do better.”
A muscle jumped in her jaw. “They killed the crews of those ships.”
“Your word against theirs.”
“My word?” She got to her feet, unable to remain still. “What are we, twelve? Sector Central News was there!”
“Yes.” He pulled up a new file. “Unfortunately, in a freak simultaneous accident, both the entry and exit Susumi buoys put in place by Sector Central to transmit the story as it happened, were damaged. Everything was lost.”
“A freak accident?”
“An energy burst.”
Torin paced to the hatch, paced back, and fell into parade rest, hands crossed behind her back, the familiar posture bringing a cold calm. “The source of this energy burst?”
“Unable to be determined. Thus, freak.”
“Backups on the news ships?” Because Sector Central would have backups.
“Lost.”
“Another freak energy burst?”
The commander made a noncommittal noise then added dryly, “They were fortunate it didn’t affect navigation.”
“And we in the Justice Department don’t find the destruction of this data even a little suspicious?”
He sighed, the sound weary as much as exasperated. “Did you see the ships destroyed, Warden Kerr?”
She hadn’t. “My team and I
were attempting to exit Big Yellow at the time. But Alamber saw it.”
“Is he positive it was the H’san and not the plastic imitating an ancient H’san warship?”
Torin blinked. “Sir?”
Commander Ng leaned away from his desk, cracking his back. “Would it not make significantly more sense for the plastic to destroy Humans First to protect itself?” he asked.
“That’s the official opinion of the Minister of Justice?”
Torin had made it a question; she hadn’t needed to, but the commander answered anyway. “It is. The Baylet and the Blue Robinasit were on the other side of the Berganitan at the time, unloading prisoners.”
“The reporters . . .”
“The reporters won’t speak on the record without evidence to support their statements.”
Evidence that no longer existed. “Then how are we explaining the missing Humans First ships?”
He spread his hands. “Explaining to who?”
* * *
• • •
Craig fell into step beside her outside the commander’s office. “Well?”
“The official decision is plastic pretending to be H’san.”
“It’s possible.”
“Craig . . .”
“I’m not saying that’s what happened, Torin, but you have to admit it’s possible. We know there’s sects within the plastic and we have no idea how many of the little fukkers there actually are.”
“You sound like a Warden.”
“Apparently, it’s my job.”
“I don’t believe it’s the plastic.”
“Evidence.”
“I know.” She didn’t ask him what he believed, took a deep breath, and reminded herself that punching the bulkhead would hurt her more than the bulkhead.
Alamber was waiting for them when they crossed into the Strike Teams’ personal territory. “Boss, can I talk to you?”
She felt Craig tense beside her, wondered why Alamber hadn’t waited for them in their quarters, and said, “Always.”
“I want to go do some actual training and then come back and work in the forensic arm.” It all came out in one breath.