by Tanya Huff
Even without adjectives, enough time passed that Alamber had sagged against Binti’s shoulder by the time Commander Ng began filling in the details external to the team’s report.
“Robert Martin approached Commander Yurrisk on Corlavan Station and told him his employer wanted a rumored weapon retrieved. Once the commander had the weapon in hand, Martin’s employer would pay more than enough to refit his ship.”
“And keep his people safe,” Werst grunted. “I guarantee those exact words were used.”
“Martin and his people would come along to take care of any necessary intimidation. Martin has admitted to Presit a Tur durValintrisy . . .”
“I are a celebrity. People talk to celebrities.” Presit combed her whiskers. “I are also very good at my job.”
“Martin admitted to Presit a Tur durValintrisy . . .” Commander Ng tried again. “. . . that his orders as a member of Humans First were to secure the weapon, then have the Polint kill the hostages.”
“He paid for their services,” Vertic said as attention shifted to her. Bertecnic fidgeted on her left, Dutavar—who’d rejoined them when the Warner-Lalonde transferred his brother to medical on Berbar—stood motionless on her right. “They’d have honored the contract.”
“A culturally difficult position,” Ng replied, saying, as far as Torin could tell, nothing at all. “We can assume Humans First intended the eventual discovery of the bodies to destabilize the peace.”
“I thought they were tired of Humans dying for the Elder Races?” Binti muttered, shifting Alamber into a more comfortable position.
“War would restore the status quo. Make them feel powerful again.”
The room smelled suddenly of chili. “Humans,” Firiv’vrak declared, “are weird.”
The commander spread his hands. “Not arguing.”
Craig leaned his chair back—theoretically impossible given the design, but he always found a way—and folded his arms. “A return to war would require an increase in weapon production. And we can all dux out who that benefits.”
It certainly gave Marteau motive, Torin acknowledge silently. “Fair point,” she said aloud. Craig’s brows rose. “You were right.”
He grinned. “Damned straight.”
“And we should dig deeper.”
Ng cleared his throat.
“We the Justice Department should dig deeper. Not we personally,” Torin clarified.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Martin had a pistol.” Hands flat on the table, Ressk leaned in. “We’ve taken down only one other person with a pistol, and he also had stolen guns.”
“And what dung beetle makes guns,” Craig muttered.
“Still very circumstantial, but . . .” Ng raised a hand, before Craig could protest. “. . . it’s adding up. I’ll put in the request.”
“Request?” Freenim steepled his fingers. “I understood you to be in command of the Strike Teams.”
“Justice needs to consider if there’s evidence enough to warrant an invasion of privacy,” Torin explained.
“We can’t kick the door down and force a confession,” Craig added when Freenim blinked.
Vertic nodded. “Because the door is steel and most likely trapped.”
“That’s . . .” It had been a long day. “. . . close enough.”
Alamber made a very Polint-sounding hum, clutched the edge of the table, and pulled himself upright. “What are the odds Humans First intercepted a message sent from an archaeological site to a university by accident?”
“Higher odds that they’re searching for specific terms,” Ng allowed. “Why?”
His hair flicked slowly back and forth. “That means a meat network. It’s harder to hack people.”
“You think a network of people searching for information relative to Humans First could keep the search a secret?” Torin asked him.
“No one has more than one piece, Boss. They don’t know about each other. They don’t know enough of the secret to tell.”
The front legs of Craig’s chair hit the deck with a crack. Half the people at the table flinched. “Shite. Sorry. It’s just, paying for that kind of a meat network . . .”
“Stop saying that,” Werst grumbled. “I’m starving.”
“. . . would take a lot of money.”
“You’ve made your point, Warden.” Ng was too self-possessed to glance at Presit, but the implication was there in the angle of his head. The last thing they needed was Presit digging into Marteau Industries before the Wardens could. “Martin also admitted that if the Wardens found out about the situation on 33X73, the presence of members of the Primacy there with him would ensure Strike Team Alpha would be sent to intercede. This is why Martin chose the Polint. They had the best chance of defeating you. It didn’t occur to them that you’d have Polint of your own.”
Nothing they hadn’t worked out themselves. Torin caught Vertic’s expression and bit back a smile.
“It should have occurred to them,” Freenim said, throwing up both hands. “You don’t bring . . .” The translator paused for the first time in days. “. . . jelly to a knife fight.”
Jelly?
“They had a lot on their minds,” Torin told him while the commander coughed. Craig was the only Confederation member trying not to laugh, but then his poker face was that good.
Werst snorted. “Humans First aren’t very smart even without the apostrophe.”
“They’re narrow-minded,” Torin corrected. “And bigoted. And . . .”
“Assholes,” Werst declared.
“Granted. But that doesn’t mean they’re stupid. If we keep thinking of them as stupid, we’re going to have trouble.”
“More trouble.” Freenim met Torin’s gaze.
She nodded. “More trouble.”
“According to Martin, Humans First believed Commander Yurrisk would understand the Primacy killing Strike Team Alpha where he might have objected to Martin’s Humans doing it.” Ng tapped Martin’s file closed as though he were tired of looking at it. “Leftover emotional connections from the war.”
“Would Commander Yurrisk understand killing the scientists?” Vertic asked.
“Unless the commander is willing to speculate, I assume we’ll never know.”
Werst drummed his fingers against the table until Ressk closed a hand around his wrist. The scientists had been shot with Werst’s weapon.
“Why did they need the DeCaal?” Binti wondered. “Humans First has ships. I mean, not a lot, not anymore, but why involve someone from outside the club?”
“We assume they were trying to keep their involvement less . . . traceable.” The file Ng threw up into the air listed times and ship registrations. “Jump buoys keep records.”
“Jump buoys.” Craig leaned back again, his opinion of those who feared Susumi space clear. Torin resisted the urge to keep tipping his chair until he landed on his ass, but only because she’d need him unbruised if they ever finished debriefing.
“What about Commander Yurrisk?” Ressk asked.
Ng squared his shoulders. “Rehabilitation will give the commander and his people the help they need.”
“He has a lot of people,” Torin pointed out.
“Four. Gayun didn’t survive his injuries.”
Torin raised a brow.
Everyone at the table looked at the commander. At Torin. And back at the commander again.
“Justice is not concerned . . .” He closed his eyes as though suddenly aware of what he’d said. “I’ll request we look into it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“I doubt that, Warden. I very much doubt that.”
• • •
“Alamber . . .”
He stepped further into the bedroom, turning from a silhouette in the open hatch to a pale, dark-eyed, emotion
ally compromised teammate. “You were captured.”
“Technically . . .”
Craig cut her off with a kiss on the back of her neck and slid toward the far edge of the bed. “He has a point.”
Torin sighed and moved with him, beckoning to the di’Taykan. “Get in.”
• • •
Nine hours later, after too little sleep, Torin found herself back in DA8 with her entire team—minus Dutavar who’d already boarded with his brother. Grouped together at the edge of the arm, they watched a Ciptran disappear into the Primacy’s lock followed, two at a time, by eight Dornagain.
“That’s just mean,” she muttered as the pairs of Dornagain slowly undulated forward, highlights gleaming in rippling fur, heads ducked low so as not scrape the upper deck.
She felt Craig shrug, his shoulder bumping against hers. “It’s an official delegation.”
“Not very balanced.”
“They’re balancing against the entire Primacy, not merely a single team. Pile enough Dornagain on one end of a lever and you can move a galaxy.”
“That’s . . .” She bumped back into him. “. . . pretty accurate actually.”
Both Ciptran and Dornagain were too large to intimidate and almost impossible to enrage.
“I’m surprised they’re not sending your military species.” Vertic had moved almost silently to stand beside her. “I’m surprised they’re not sending you.”
“I don’t think Parliament trusts Humans right now,” Torin told her.
Craig snickered. There was no humor in the sound. “You don’t trust Humans right now.”
“My people will be pleased about the Ciptran.” The scent of cherry candy wafted up from knee level.
Keeleeki’ka snapped her mandibles together. “Our people.”
The cherry scent grew stronger. “Whatever.”
As the outer hatch closed behind the last pair of Dornagain, Representative Haminem took three steps away from the air lock and huffed out an impatient lungful of air. “Well, come on, you lot. We’re already behind schedule.”
“Better get used to that, mate.”
He blinked at Craig. “I’m sure we’ll be able to accommodate their speed. We manage quite nicely with the Lindur.”
“Lindur?”
“Trust me . . .” Firiv’vrak rose up until her head was even with Torin’s waist. “. . . you don’t want to know. They squish.”
“Most people squish compared to the Artek.” Torin held out her hand, and Firiv’vrak stroked both antennae tips across her palm. Proof of trust. The antennae were fragile, and Firiv’vrak’s outer mandibles could take Torin’s hand off at the wrist.
Keeleeki’ka had the beginning of a new design carved around the edges of the triangular break in her carapace. “Presit won’t allow me to hold your story, but I would if I could.”
“Thank you.”
Firiv’vrak reached back and tried to push Keeleeki’ka over. “It’s not that great an honor, trust me. She’s like nits under your belly plates.”
Until Firiv’vrak’s story was complete, Keeleeki’ka’s people, whom the government wanted to appease, would protect her. Torin didn’t trust governments either, so she found that reassuring.
Vertic stepped forward as Haminem shooed the two Artek into the air lock.
“The politician . . .”
“Ouch. Medic,” Werst muttered.
“. . . has assured me Camaderiz and Netroovoens will be released to the Polint in a very short time.” Her ears pricked forward. “In turn, I assure you they’ll be punished for what they had a part in. I have offered to hold them in my honor.”
“All of them?”
Vertical pupils dilated slightly. “Perhaps not Dutavar as he plans to continue in the military. Tehaven, however, wants to be as far from his mother as the law allows.”
“Still, four . . .” Binti nodded like she knew what she was talking about. “. . . decent beginning of a family.”
Metal protested as Vertic drew her left front claws along the deck. “If I get them all back.”
Torin touched her tongue to her implant. “Alamber.”
A hatch opened down the corridor and Alamber emerged, his hair waving languidly back and forth, one hand dragging Bertecnic out behind him, the other adjusting his masker. “Just saying good-bye, Boss.”
On his way down the corridor, Bertecnic lurched into the bulkheads. Twice.
Vertic sighed and gave him a shove toward the ship. “We may not see each other again, Gunnery Sergeant Kerr. Stay safe.”
“I’ll do my best, Durlan Vertic. You, too.”
Merinim stood with Craig as Torin and Freenim stepped slightly to one side. “Any idea of what’s going to happen when you get back?” Torin asked quietly. If their government had been willing they not come back at all . . .
“Arguments. Extended discussion.” Freenim blinked. “Yelling. The usual.”
“If there’s trouble . . .” He had her codes.
“Don’t be a stranger.” She had his.
If two senior NCOs, retired, couldn’t hold things together, it didn’t deserve to be held.
Twenty-seven hours later, Presit fell into step beside her as she crossed the common. Torin shortened her stride.
“Qurn are having disappeared into the halls of Justice. Her existence are being dealt with government to government.”
“Her existence?”
Presit waved a dismissive hand, nails glittering gold under the artificial light. Torin wondered where she’d gotten a manicure on Berbar. “Apparently, her existence are not a sure thing. I are not finding anyone leaking, but I are not saying I are not having noticed ripples in the smooth flow of information.”
It took Torin a moment to parse that. “You’ll keep investigating.”
“I are not investigating.” Presit wrinkled her muzzle showing small, white teeth. “I are, as Keeleeki’ka would be saying, looking for a story.”
“The plastic is gone,” Torin said, two steps later. “Our R&D wanted a look at it and didn’t get one before the Ministry of Alien Interference grabbed it. Better the military’s all over them than us.” The news had been filled with high-level military staff officers demanding they be given access to 33X73 and just as many scientists demanding they be kept away. Torin had already received two communications from General Morris and passed them both on to Commander Ng unopened. “I was a little surprised they didn’t want either Craig or me to touch it.”
“Maybe they are wanting to translate the data first, before it are becoming a being capable of further communication.”
The emphasis on communication made it sound like lying. “Maybe. Werst told them the pattern he thought he recognized looked like infantry maneuvers. They weren’t impressed.”
“Are you wanting to impress them? Is that why you are wanting to be touching it?”
“No. That’s not why.”
“Maybe they are not wanting to risk that much plastic coming to life. It could be becoming a very large being capable of communication.”
“Maybe they had political reasons I’m not aware of.”
Presit snorted. “Maybe water are wet.”
Arniz watched the insects swarming over Dzar’s body, wings flashing in the sun as they fed. She’d be sunwarmed bone in no time. Finally at rest. Hyrinzital lay on a bier next to her, but Katrien burial rites had called Lows and Mygar home.
She brushed her fingers lightly over the force field the Wardens had raised to keep the animals away, tasting ozone on the air. The largest Dornagain, Analyzes Minutiae to Discover Truth, had physically moved between members of the Ministry of Culture and the Ministry for the Preservation of Pre-Confederation Civilizations and had talked them around to allowing the platforms—her argument slow and ponderous enough that both ministries had surrendered more t
han agreed.
There was another anchor on its way and more scientists, funding easy to get when a potential plastic civilization had been uncovered. No one spoke of the potential weapon. She doubted anyone had forgotten it. The military had become strident about gaining permission to land. There was rumor of a H’san joining the new team.
Potential plastic civilization sounded ridiculous.
Harveer Salitwisi and Dr. Ganes were gone as well. One too broken to continue, one promising he’d be back. How long did it take to regrow a hand? Arniz had no idea. She vowed to be kinder to him and wondered if she’d remember.
She was staying until the end.
The first plastic had been found in a latrine and the Ministry of Alien Interference didn’t know the difference between a feces and a fragipan.
He allowed the Wardens access to his system without argument. With grace, even. They had a warrant, but he had nothing to worry about; he knew the limits of the law and what they could find.
The di’Taykan with the pale blue hair and the dark lines painted around his eyes was a bit of a surprise. He knew they’d allowed the Younger Races to try their luck beyond the harnessed violence of the Strike Teams. There was one in each of the C&Cs, but he hadn’t been informed of any in data forensics.
“It’s all yours, Warden di’Crikeys.” The Rakva stepped away from the desk, bright yellow crest displayed.
Alamber di’Crikeys. In person, in the flesh, he didn’t look much like the publicity pictures.
His presence explained why the Rakva Warden had been pleased to surrender the console.
He had nothing to fear from the Justice Department. They had no idea of where to begin. Of what to look for. Warden di’Crikeys, on the other hand, had learned his skills from criminals and this was, quite possibly, the only legitimate job he was qualified to hold.
He watched the di’Taykan settle into the very expensive chair and sigh happily as it formed around him. “Do you need me to stay here while you work?”