Judge

by Karen Traviss

  “Okay.”

  “I promise I’ll drag him out soon. Shukry’s given me a list of places he can take us so Aras can see animals.” Ade lowered his eyes for a second. “I thought I might take him with me when I visit Ankara, too. Dave’s grave. Is that okay?”

  Shan still felt as if she was abandoning Aras, and now guilty that she found herself ready to just walk out of this bizarre situation—a disused refugee hotel full of alien invaders, which included her—and sit down with a drink where nobody knew anything about her.

  “Of course you can, sweetheart,” she said. “You don’t have to ask me.”

  “Did you know they’ve got a memorial to Actaeon in Leeds now? If I could trust the FEU not to play silly sods and try to detain us, I’d want to go.”

  Shan wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet. The FEU warship Actaeon had been blown apart by wess’har missiles in retaliation for its role in events that led to the destruction of Ouzhari, and to her apparent death. Deserved fate or not, the news made her uncomfortable when she finally heard it. She felt worse about it as time wore on.

  I wasn’t dead. Okay, that wasn’t the plan, and I really meant to die, but I wasn’t dead. And a bit of me thinks that Nevyan destroyed Actaeon more out of vengeance for my death than for that bloody island.

  But wess’har didn’t think like that. Did they? So Actaeon ’s fate wasn’t her fault.

  Shan ran her fingers through her hair to tidy it as best she could and gestured to the doors. “Okay, let’s go, then. Let’s fantasize about being normal and drink beer that can’t possibly get us drunk.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

  “You’re a cheap date.”

  “And better hide the sidearm. If locals see it, I think they’ll get overexcited.”

  “Good point.” She slid the 9mm from the back of her belt into her jacket. “But I think they’ll still know who we are.”

  It was funny how she could embark on an extrasolar journey at a moment’s notice, convinced by a subconscious briefing that it was a noble mission, but walking half a kilometer down a coastal road to a bar felt like a leap into a terrifying void.

  You’ve trod vacuum, girl. You’ve drifted in space. Try, just try, to see things in that context.

  The cordon around the hotel was manned, and at the perimeter there were ADF troops patrolling who didn’t seem to be expecting anyone to be entering and leaving on foot. Uniforms hadn’t changed that much, but they had no visible body armor. Shan resisted the urge to ask the corporal who stepped cautiously into their path if she could see what he wore for ballistic protection. This was no time to covet new kit. It wasn’t as if she and Ade would be staying, or even needing it.

  “We’re just going for a walk,” she said.

  The corporal looked around him. “How far, ma’am?”

  “The town, or whatever those buildings are over there.”

  “Okay, that’s within the outer cordon. You shouldn’t get any unwelcome attention there.”

  “It’s not derelict, is it?”

  “No, ma’am. It was easier to leave the locals in situ, so they’re inside the cordon too. It’s a tiny place. Couple of hundred people.”

  “No passing trade, then,” Ade said cheerfully. “We’d better do our bit to keep the local economy going.”

  There were tables outside on the paving; a couple of people looked at them when Ade went to the bar to get a couple of bottles, but nothing was said. Shan tried to shut out the intervening years, the century and more between leaving for Mars Orbital and the moment she felt the sunbaked seat burning the backs of her legs through her pants.

  Mundane routine was liberating, if she could keep it up.

  “Cheers,” Ade said, placing the bottle in front of her. It was already running with condensation. The sensation of ice-cold liquid in her mouth and the near-frozen glass in her hand was almost as good as orgasm. “I think we ought to get married. Legally.”

  She wasn’t expecting that, but it was Ade all over. “Only legally on Earth. Wess’har rules are different.”

  “That’s a no, then.”

  “It’s a yes. I love you. You didn’t really expect me to refuse, did you?”

  “Not really. But I don’t pick up your memories any longer, so I’m not sure if you’ve changed your mind about me.”

  “Shit, no. Why would I? You’re what a bloke would be if I’d designed Mr. Perfect to order.”

  It was hard to tell if he was blushing in this heat, but it was the point at which he usually did. “Thanks. It means a lot to me.”

  “You get to choose the venue and all that guff, then.”

  Ade took a long pull at the bottle and they gazed out to sea and let the sounds and scents wash over them. And she worked out what the quay was: it was actually part of massive flood defenses that looked as if they extended along the entire coastline. The small detail of climate change brought things home to her even more than the unfamiliar coastline.

  The unfamiliar environment made Shan hyperalert, and it was never going to be a regular night out. It was a brief interlude that she might look back on in a hundred, two hundred, even a thousand years and recall with mixed feelings. That upended her more than anything. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad about it, just that she felt it intensely to the point of feeling her eyes sting with suppressed tears.

  “If the memory thing bothers you, Ade, we can ditch the gel,” she said. “You know. Old-fashioned unprotected sex.”

  “I’m not putting you through that again.”

  That was never spelled out. “I check myself daily with the ultrasound on the swiss, you know that. Nothing’s grown back. No uterus. I can’t conceive again.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Just a matter of checking, that’s all. It won’t sneak up on me again.”

  “I just didn’t realize how much I’d come to need to know what goes on in your head. And Aras’s, come to that.”

  Sharing memories came from a strange fusion of two different genetic systems, the wess’har transfer of DNA between male and female—oursan—and the genetic memory of the isenj. Maybe there were no other creatures alive who had evolved a system like that: c’naatat was the element that made it possible. Shan felt Aras had the measure of c’naatat now, and whether it had conscious purpose or not, it behaved like Toxoplasma gondii, influencing the behavior of its host for its own ends. She was still grappling with it.

  C’naatat, like God, moved in mysterious ways, and Shan wasn’t submitting to either’s whim.

  So where did Esganikan get Prachy’s name? Better ask Eddie to ask Rayat…the bastard.

  She drained her bottle. “I need you to know what I think, too, Ade,” she said. “Let’s forget the gel for a night and see what happens. Okay? You know I’ll run the checks first.”

  “As long as you tell me if something goes wrong this time, Boss. Don’t ever go through that alone again, will you?”

  Ade was the most decent human being she’d ever met. She wanted to take every pain from him and put his life right—breathe for him, even. She felt that about Aras, too, but sometimes Aras was harder to reach. It was comforting simply to take Ade’s hand and mesh her fingers with his.

  “If Esganikan looks you over one more time, I might even punch her,” Shan said.

  “I’m irresistible, Boss. Maybe she heard about my novelty lightshow.”

  It was worth seeing if Ade had any suspicions. “Does she strike you as acting strangely?”

  “She’s a long way from backup without the resources she expected to get, she’s got trigger-happy Skavu, she’s pulling back-to-back tours of duty, and she has to work out a whole new plan in theater because the situation on the ground keeps changing. Been there, Boss. It makes you sweat at night.”

  That was true; the planning for this mission was still sketchy. A million years’ head start on humans and a much more sensible outlook didn’t solve every problem.

/>   When do I decide it’s time to pull out and go home? When I see some environmental progress? When I’m sure the Skavu aren’t going to lose it and trash the place?

  The more she looked, the more she found elements that she could—should—deal with.

  If Aras was right about c’naatat and Toxaplasma, then the bloody thing had made her anxious enough to come on this stupid mission in some hope—whatever that meant in terms of microorganisms—that she might give it a lift to new hosts. She couldn’t get that thought out of her head.

  Bad call, Germ Boys. You didn’t realize whose arse you crawled up, did you? I’m wise to you. I’m here because I need to be.

  Ade stretched luxuriously, distracting her for a moment. It was turning into a balmy evening; a refreshing breeze had picked up, laden with interesting scents of seaweed, hot metal and frying food. Chips.

  “Another beer, Mrs. Bennett?”

  “I’ll force one down if you insist, Mr. Bennett. Shall we see if there’s anything safe on the menu?”

  “I’d really fancied a fried egg,” said Ade. “Until the memory popped up of what Aras thinks of them and where they come from.”

  Wess’har were vegan anyway, but the prospect of eating items that emerged from an animal’s backside seemed to horrify them on a whole new level. She recalled an embarrassing mealtime explaining human eating habits to a wess’har. “I do smell chips, though. Let me inquire.”

  Damn, she hadn’t been this person in years, and not just chill-sleep years. This was the relatively carefree days of her time as a detective sergeant, and a few laughs in the police social club bar after the shift finished.

  Just a few hours’ break. The Gaia contacts are seeing what they can dig up. You’ve got time for this, at least.

  Chips. She inhaled and followed the aroma.

  Yes, it was definitely turning into a nice evening. She pushed Esganikan to the back of her mind, and got a strange look from the barman. It was obvious that she and Ade weren’t local.

  “You security?” asked the barman.

  Nobody got into the area without authorization. Shan indicated the pistol-shaped bulge in her jacket pocket. “Do I look like an alien?”

  “Nah,” he said. “I can spot a cop at ten klicks. Tell all your mates we could do with the extra custom.”

  It was strangely comforting. She could never shed that Detective Superintendent persona “I’ll do that,” she said, a carried a big plate of fat, oil-glazed steak fries back to the table. It was the most wonderful meal she could imagine.

  Ade closed his eyes and placed a chip in his mouth with perfect accuracy. He chewed, a slight frown creasing his nose.

  “No offense, Boss,” he said at last, “but this is as good as sex. I swear.”

  “Yeah.” Shan was transfixed by the perfection; crisp skin, meltingly fluffy interior, and the optimum sprinkling of salt. Back home—yes, home was still F’nar—chips never turned out quite this good. It was the oil, or the way the soil influenced the taste of the spuds or something, but F’nar chips would never be Earth chips. “I’m with you on that, Ade.”

  “Shukry said he could get us legal clearance for a civil wedding ceremony,” he said. Rare delicacy or not, the chips hadn’t distracted him from tidying up his life. “You can wear a dress.”

  “I’d look like a gorilla in drag.”

  “You’d look lovely.”

  “You really want me to?”

  “Only if you’re comfortable in it.”

  Shan wouldn’t be, but it was only for a matter of hours at most, and she found she’d do pretty well anything to make Ade happy. Like Aras, he hadn’t had enough harmless joy in his life. She was considering the possibility of a smart dress, nothing frothy or girly, the Prachy issue still in her forebrain but dulled by the bliss of a plate of chips, when her swiss chirped.

  “I never get junk messages now,” she said, flipping open the screen and inserting an earpiece. She didn’t want the few drinkers at the far table to hear her.

  F’nar ITX.

  It was Nevyan. Shit. She hadn’t called her. It was still just days ago in Shan’s mind, not twenty-five years. “Nev, I’m sorry, I haven’t called Eddie either—”

  “It’s Giyadas.” The voice was tinged with overtone, but it was Eddie’s accent, perfect English. Little Giyadas had grown up. Shan wasn’t quite ready for that. “I remember you, Shan. You must speak to my mother later, but first I have bad news for you.”

  “Eddie?” It was her first thought. “Is he okay?”

  “Eddie’s fine, and you have to speak to him too. But first, listen—Esganikan Gai is carrying c’naatat. She infected herself with Rayat’s blood, but I don’t imagine she told you, or else you and I would be having a very different conversation right now.”

  “Oh shit…”

  Shan’s evening was suddenly heading downhill fast. Ade paused in mid-chew, listening intently to Shan’s side of the exchange.

  “You’re a citizen of F’nar, Shan,” said Giyadas. “A matriarch—an isan.”

  “I know.” Shan struggled to work out a plan on the fly, and stood by for a bollocking from Giyadas for not spotting Esganikan’s ruse already. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll work out how we tackle this.”

  “No need,” said Giyadas. “The matriarchs of F’nar have asked that you kill her. In fact, we order it.”

  7

  The Holy Prophet Muhammad was asked by his companions if kindness to animals was rewarded in the life hereafter. He replied: “Yes, there is a meritorious reward for kindness to every living creature.”

  BUKHARI

  Immigrant Reception Center, south of Kamberra: next morning.

  Aras could see uniformed police on the road leading to the center’s outer perimeter fence, building another barrier with posts set in cement and a brightly colored gate that folded neatly into the upright sections on both sides. They’d begun work just as it was getting light and the air was still relatively cool.

  He found that staring out of the window helped. They’d been discussing Esganikan for hours now. Shan had paused to argue about the time scale with Giyadas, who seemed to have grown into an even more formidable matriarch than Nevyan.

  “Yeah, and I’m saying that we have to get another credible commander in place before I do it,” Shan whispered. It was a ferocious hiss, as loud as she dared speak in case she was overheard beyond this room. The ancient device had its limitations. “Or the whole thing goes to rat shit, and I’m not taking over this fucking mission, okay? I’m not competent to run an army and an environmental remediation team. I’m a bloody copper.”

  Ade watched Shan getting more agitated and considered taking the swiss, telling Giyadas to mind her own business, and destroying the ITX link for good. He’d also considered taking a device and removing Esganikan himself, but that had been pure anger, and it would only have made Shan’s situation worse. He could hear Giyadas’s voice very faintly. She seemed in a hurry.

  Shan waited, listening, but she was blinking rapidly, jaw muscles twitching. “Okay, so Rayat might find a way to tip off Kiir…so? Well, I’ll take that risk. I’m the one on the ground here…no, I can’t do that. You have to trust me on this. I have to have her second-in-command in place first. Laktiriu Avo. She needs to get up to speed.”

  The argument slowed to a weary series of grunts, then Shan shut the link and sat down at the small table again.

  “I’m doing this to my time scale,” she said, as if they needed convincing.

  “Okay, Boss.” Ade put his hand on her arm. “I still think you should leave Prachy to me and the lads.”

  “No, because if I pull out of that, Esganikan will wonder why.” Shan shook her head. “We go ahead with that. Here’s the op order, then. I get Eddie to do a BBChan piece outing Prachy, and if that doesn’t get the FEU to give way by the deadline, we go after her. Then I concentrate on Laktiriu as Esganikan’s successor. Then, when I think she’s up to it, I do the job.”

  “T
hen,” Ade said quietly, “we get married, and then you, me, and Aras go home. Yes? Because if you stay after that—if any of us stay—then I don’t think we’ll ever be able to go.”

  Shan stared at Ade for a few seconds before she did that little adoring frown at him, as if she’d hurt him and regretted it. Aras seldom seemed to evoke that in her these days. It didn’t trouble him, but he did take note of it; Ade was indulged like a child, and Aras was expected to be an adult. That seemed fair, given that he was the senior house-brother.

  “Why do you agree to assassinate one woman and yet go to great lengths to stop the killing of another—who’ll be killed anyway?” Aras asked.

  Shan looked fixed and grim. It was her don’t start with me look. “Because one is a serious biohazard, and the other isn’t.”

  “That wasn’t the answer you gave Esganikan about Prachy.”

  “Okay, Aras, maybe I’m getting wess’har about things. The two are not related. One target fits in one ethical framework, and the other fits in a different one.”

  “Human rules for humans, wess’har for wess’har.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it’s one possible explanation, yes. All I know is that they look like different situations to me.”

  “Motive doesn’t matter.”

  “And they’ll both end up dead. But yes, motive still matters to me most of the time.”

  Shan was very pale now, pumped with adrenaline. She wasn’t a woman who took the easiest path through life; she agonized over what was right, and frequently did what was least convenient for herself, an unusual thing in a human. The only surrender she had made to expedience was to let him and Ade live. They were bio-hazards too, just like Lindsay and Rayat—and Esganikan.

  Ade kept squeezing her arm, almost as if he was reassuring himself she was still there. “How do we work out if she’s infected any of her crew?”

  “That worries me, too.”

  “Wess’har are poor at feigning reactions,” Aras said. “If the Eqbas crew show caution about physical contact with me, it’s a fair assumption that they aren’t carriers.”