Judge (17 page)

“She thinks the world of you lot,” Ade said at last. “She was still trying to lean on the FEU to get a result. I think it mattered to her more than it did to me in the end.”

“Not a problem,” Barencoin said, checking his watch. “The Corps is gone, the government shat on us and would shit on us again if we stood still long enough, and we're welcome
here.
Job done. Bring the old cow up here for a beer when we've accomplished our mission.” He leaned a little further out over the balcony. “See? Buildings. Town. Beer. We'll be back in an hour, even if we leave the transport here and yomp it.”

Qureshi held her transfer chip in her hand, the first time she'd had to think about a bank transaction for years. At least they'd been able to keep their accounts open. “Yeah, it's a bit much going into town with a spaceship…”

“Do these chips still work?”

“They promised that they would. The FEU can't legally block them, not that they give a toss about the law. Why would they want to, anyway?”

“Because they're shit-houses,” said Barencoin. “And they think we don't notice. Of the two, I hate them more for the latter.”

“Well, that'll teach 'em to bin us before they worked out if they might need to debrief us…”

They
remained unspecified, but it didn't matter. Ade would reassure Shan that she hadn't made the detachment make an impossible choice. You could never go back, they said, and it was one of those insultingly stupid reassuring noises people made—like
we can still be friends
and
time's a great healer
—but it was one that also happened to be painfully true.

Everyone needed a fresh start. He had his; now they would have theirs.

While they were calculating the optimum amount of beer in self-chilling bottles that six Royals could fit in bergens and carry in temperatures of more than 40 degrees, Ade caught a whiff of sandalwoodlike scent and turned to see Aras wheeling in a trolley.

“I know you too well,” he said, grim as ever, and took off the cover.

The trolley was laden with packs of beer, wine, and some cartons that looked like snacks of some kind. It didn't actually matter if it was shit: it was
Earth
shit, things they hadn't seen for years and sometimes thought they'd never taste again. It was ambrosia by default.

There was a moment of breath-holding silence that really was genuine shock. Then they started laughing.

“Aras, old mate, you're a fucking
king
among baron stranglers,” Becken said, a real note of adulation in his voice. “You sure you haven't got any Royal Marine in you?”

“That's more than we really want to know,” said Barencoin, and for once he had the grace to stop there. “Thanks, Aras.”

The sense of relief in the room seemed to lower the temperature by several degrees. As the impromptu party got under way, Ade felt a door close on him, and settled for grasping the solid, settled feeling in his gut that said he'd done what he had to, and got his mates back in one piece with their self-respect restored. They could take a short leave and enjoy a brief time being civvies for a change before the ADF processed them. The Aussies would want extensive intel debriefs too, but nobody had any illusions, and so far the ADF hadn't crapped on them. Ade's job was done.

“One more task before we put on the old bush hat and corks,” Barencoin said, tipping his bottle in the direction of the ocean as if he was toasting it. “Prachy. Extraction and retrieval.”

“Come on, Mart…”

“I mean it. Just to clear the books. If we hadn't helped Commander Bloody Useless Neville land the beano bombs in the first place, then Ouzhari would still be a nice beach resort.”

“Don't I know it.”
I should have said no. I should have refused Lindsay's order. It's not like I didn't know she might use the bloody things.
“It's
my
job.”

“It's
our
job, Ade. Come on. For old time's sake. A bit of blowing shit up and causing mayhem. Haven't done that in a bloody long time.” Barencoin spread his arms to canvass opinion from the others. “Who's in? Snatch squad. Grab a granny.”

“That's your sex life in a nutshell,” said Becken.

“Come on, grow a pair. Once Shan gets a location from her paramilitary bunny-huggers, we could be in and out like a greased weasel.”

Qureshi, ever the big sister, took a ladylike sip of her beer and wiped her lips on the back of her hand. Her pronouncements carried weight. “I'm in. Can't turn back the clock, but at least we can avoid the crazy parrot-woman nuking Brussels to find her.”

They made it sound like a lark. They were bored; the last couple of years had been boring by Royal Marines' standards, by
any
military standards. But this was their way of saying they still felt guilty about Ouzhari and that they had to claw back a little self-respect and decency.

“We're all in, then,” said Chahal. “Right, Sue?”

Webster nodded, bottle to her mouth, and swallowed. “Beats building lavatories, mate.”

Ade had no choice. He would have done it anyway. Shan might have been a terrific cop and as hard as they came, but she still wasn't a commando, and he was. It was nice to be the best at something.

All he had to do now was talk Shan into persuading Esganikan to let them do the job.

Kidnapping old ladies wasn't how he thought he'd finish his special forces career, and it probably wouldn't make much difference to Earth in the long run.

But some things were
right,
and had to be done.

 

Reception Center, fifth floor.

 

Shan stopped in her tracks. “Oh, for fuck's sake,” she said. “Tell me you're just reading that for research.”

Esganikan was kneeling in her comfort position—which still made Shan's eyes water at the thought of the pressure on her knees—and reading a battered Bible. She looked up with a jerk that made her crest of red hair bob alarmingly.

“I want to know what Deborah Garrod believes is taking place,” she said. “I found this book in the cupboard by the bed. This is Revelations.”

“Oh.”
Thanks, Gideons. Whatever crazy ideas she gets now will all be your fault.
“There was never a sequel, was there? Just a happy ending.”

Esganikan did her angry parrot impression, crest of hair quivering as she tilted her head. It was actually curiosity, moving her head to get a sharper focus with those cloverleaf pupils, but it didn't send that message to humans. “Why is this bad? Your disapproval is obvious.”

“I didn't say it was
bad.
” Shan helped herself to the jug of water on the table and poured a glass.
Human room: human stuff.
It might have been an abandoned hotel, but it did feel good and familiar. There was a lot to be said for decent upholstery and plumbing. “I just have a recoil reaction to people who base policy on noncontemporaneous reports written long after the incident and translated through a number of languages. It's a cop thing. Personally, I'd wait to take a statement from God if I were you. Get him to sign it, too, in case he retracts.”

Esganikan either didn't understand the references and wasn't going to stop to ask for explanation, or she didn't think it was an incisive analysis. “But much of this work says that you have to treat your fellow beings with consideration, as you would want them to treat you. I can find nothing to object to.”

“It never caught on,” Shan said. “They usually skip that bit and concentrate on the smiting, destruction, and vengeance.”

“But not Deborah's people.”

Shan gulped down the water and teetered on the brink of challenging her. “Chances are,” she said, “that half the faithful out there think this is the Second Coming. Not just the Christians, either. Lots of religions say their deity will come back one day and mete our judgment to the sinners, and then make things all better again for the good guys. I'm sure you can join up the dots on that one.”

“They ought to welcome necessary but harsh measures on this planet, then.”

“We've always had lunatics who wanted wars to happen so the apocalypse could take place. Funny way to love Jesus.” The nearest wess'har had to a religion was the doctrine of Targassat, an economist with a noninterventionist, eco-friendly outlook. It was also the philosophical rift that made some wess'har leave Eqbas Vorhi and settle on Wess'ej for a simpler lifestyle that didn't involve policing the galaxy. Shan thought it was a good example. “Look, you might agree to differ and move to a new planet rather than fight over Targassat, but humans have slaughtered each other over their imaginary friend. Get it?”

“Should I explain things to humans in those terms? Would that make things run more smoothly?”

Shan nearly choked on her water in her rush to kill that idea stone dead. “Whatever you do, don't drag religion into this. It'll happen anyway. You won't like it.”

“Very well. But I understand human reactions better now.”

“Not all humans believe in god.”

“Religion has its roots in the human way of thinking, though.” Esganikan closed the Bible like a kid being told to turn off the light and go to sleep, as if she couldn't put it down. Shan decided she preferred the cliché where aliens got the wrong idea about human culture from watching TV instead. “If there is no deity, then they imagine it. That must come from something fundamental in their minds. If not, then the deity exists.”

“Eddie is better at analyzing this than I am. Aras, even. Look, I haven't come to discuss theology. There's some stuff we need to get straight.”

“Very well.”

“Why didn't you tell me that Shapakti had worked out how to remove
c'naatat
from humans?”

Esganikan seemed unmoved, as Shan expected. “Does it matter to you? You don't want yours removed.”

“No, but it's rather
relevant
when you think that the FEU is frigging well herniating itself to get a slice of me, isn't it? And when it means you could have a countermeasure for the bloody thing.”

“You're angry.”

“I like to be kept in the loop. Especially where my personal parasites are concerned. If you don't keep me in the loop, I get worried and think you're hiding things from me, and then I'm a real pain in the arse, I promise you. It's a cop thing.”

“And an Eddie thing.”

“Level with me in future, okay?” Shan's gut said that Esganikan wouldn't, but wess'har really did have different ideas of relevance from humans. Nevyan had failed to tell Shan things, too, and Nev was as straight as a die. Maybe she was being too hard on Esganikan. “The other thing is that I'm now talking to greens in Europe, indirectly, and pinning down Prachy's location. I'm going to extract her, probably with the marines, and bring her back here for trial.”

Esganikan didn't bat an eyelid. “You must shoot her.”

“Well, this is Earth, and I'm still a copper one way or another, and this time we'll do it my way. Quietly. No flattening cities. Okay?”

“You're foolish.”

“You're welcome.” Shan hadn't expected approval. Her gut told her, as it had told Ade, that they really ought to do it by the book, or as far by the book as an obstructive FEU would make possible. “And you're going to give me the speech that she'll be dead in the end, and so will half or more of Europe, so why do I bother with the pantomime. Well, I'll save you the speech, and tell you that I stuck to wess'har law on Bezer'ej with Parekh, and now I'm sticking with human law on Earth.”

Esganikan picked up the Bible again and flipped through the pages to near the end. “I shall kill Prachy anyway. The laws of Eqbas Vorhi are in operation.”

Shan's moral compass rarely let her down. It was a stupid gesture, maybe, but the alternative was to stand back and do nothing, or take part in something that rankled with her.

“I've stepped way outside the law,” Shan said. “Beating up prisoners. Making bastards disappear for good when the courts couldn't or wouldn't. Using terrorists to do my dirty work, even. I'm not saying I'm right, but I know what I can sleep with and what I can't. Okay? Illogical, but true.”

Esganikan stared at her for a while. “If you fail, I shall have to do it.”

“I better not fail, then.”

“You think Prachy is in your former homeland, don't you? You fear for England.”

“I'm not doing any special pleading for home. I know the score. But I won't enjoy thinking of the Skavu being there.”

Esganikan didn't answer.

“Okay, Commander, I'm going to be putting pressure on the FEU via Eddie Michallat, on the off chance that they'll give in to our demands, and then I'll let you know when we're going in. Okay?”

“Agreed,” said Esganikan, and went back to reading.

Shan left before she began venting useless anger and walked down the stairs, listening to the echoing cacophony of Eqbas voices and ussissi, and wondering what the Skavu found to live on in the desert. Most were still camped out at St George, thank God. The thought of thousands of them swarming around here made her shudder. At least she could delay their deployment in Europe until the FEU got the picture.

You seriously think Earth can be
adjusted
without it ending up like Umeh, a global war? Bioweapons?

But as Eddie was fond of saying, every little helped. And adding a pebble to the avalanche was still adding a pebble that wouldn't otherwise have been there.

Shan found Ade waiting in the lobby, stretched out in a chair with his eyes shut. He was wearing new clothes, a major development in itself. It was just plain blue pants and a white casual shirt, the current style with a turned-up collar, but he might as well have been wearing a tuxedo. She'd only ever seen him in some variation on his uniform, and—very rarely—light brown wess'har working clothes. He owned nothing else. It made him look very different.