Judge (25 page)

“Izzy? Where the fuck's Izzy?”

Barencoin must have caught something in his scope; he opened up at a position right of the tower that was well inside the perimeter. Ade ran at a crouch to Becken and tripped over Qureshi.

“
Oh shit.
Oh shit, shit, shit…”

It was all over in thirty or forty chaotic seconds.

The airfield was silent for a moment before the sirens started. Ade, still running on adrenaline, checked who was alive and who wasn't; one Skavu was down and so were three of the Canadians, two of them with visible burns from Skavu energy weapons. The civvies were squatting or lying flat on the tarmac, too scared to move, and Prachy's head rested in a pool of tarry blood.

So did Jon Becken's.

Chahal was checking Becken's pulse, fingers on the man's neck. It was a waste of bloody time. Becken was an ordinary bloke, not
c'naatat
like Ade, with miraculous powers of recovery; a chunk of his head was gone, and he wasn't going to regain consciousness a few days later and carry on as normal like Shan did back on Bezer'ej. Ade shut down at that point. If he let himself feel anything right then, he'd slot the next bastard who moved. He ignored the sudden noise around him—ambulances, shouting, recriminations, the noise of vehicles screaming into position—and concentrated on Qureshi.

Barencoin leaned over him.

“Fucking idiots.” Barencoin spat out the words. Ade felt the spray on his face. “Fucking amateurs.” He started yelling, but his voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. “
Medic!
Get a fucking medic over here!”

Qureshi lay on her side with her legs bent awkwardly behind her, blood spilling from her mouth and spattered over her jacket, but still alive. She was making a gurgling sound. Ade's emergency first aid kicked in. He checked the wound; a ballistic round had penetrated her neck below the larynx and she was choking in her own blood.
Airway, get the airway clear first
—

“Mart, help me keep her neck stable. Izzy? Can you hear me? Don't you dare bloody well die on me.” The blood was frothy. Her eyelids fluttered. Barencoin pulled off his jacket as used it as a pad to cover the wound while he held her head steady. “You're going to be okay, Izzy, hold on.”

It was a lie; Ade knew it.

He tried to clear her mouth of blood with his fingers. Then a hand grabbed his shoulder and he batted it away before he realized it was the ambulance crew taking over.

“About fucking time,” said Barencoin. “What's the matter, you got stuck in traffic or something?”

Ade watched numbly as the paramedics clustered around Qureshi and tried to stabilize her. But she stopped making that awful rattling sound and went limp. They worked on her for what seemed like a long time; it was probably minutes, no more, but Ade had lost all sense of time. Barencoin tried to haul him away.

“Come on, mate, nothing we can do now—”

“Is she dead?” He pulled away from Barencoin and caught one of the paramedics by the arm. “I said,
is she dead?
”

“I'm afraid so, sir,” said the paramedic.

Ade knew the words had sunk in, just as he knew Becken was dead too; but it was all still unreal and distant, as if events were so fresh that he could change what had happened if he tried hard enough. It had all gone to shit in moments. That was how big the gulf was between life and death: not hours of battle, but a fucking stupid stray shot after some bastard got spooked and started firing.

The ambulance crew started to move Qureshi's body. That was the final straw for Ade. They weren't going to take her, or Becken. Ade was suddenly aware of Webster holding him back and telling the paramedics that they'd deal with the bodies. He hadn't even seen where Webster was during the shooting.

“Who started it?” he said. Like it mattered: it hadn't been a Skavu weapon that had killed either Qureshi or Becken, but his money was on those fanatical bastards. “How did two fucking snipers get inside the cordon?” He turned, not sure if he was going to take it out on the Canadians or the Skavu first, and found himself in Barencoin's arm lock. He railed at the Canadian cops anyway. “Jesus Christ, don't any of you bastards have proper
procedures?
”

“Easy Sarge.” Barencoin was close to breaking his arm. “Time for that later. I promise you. Now's not the time.”

Ade didn't give a shit about looking controlled and professional. Two of his mates had been killed in a simple handover. People got away with friendly fire incidents all the time, but not on his watch.

A section of Eqbas ship had already plummeted to the ground in shuttle format. By the time it crossed Ade's mind that he could have sliced a chunk out of his hand and got some
c'naatat
blood into Qureshi or Becken, and let Shapakti sort out the infection when they were well again, Shan ran down the ramp of the shuttle with a couple of Eqbas and grabbed him.

“Get the bodies inboard,” she said. One of the Skavu made a move as if to help. “Not
you,
you arsehole.”

In that stupid way of firefights, Ade now panicked about
not taking biohaz precautions,
stupid bastard, stupid
stupid
bastard, and started gulping in air, transfixed by the sight of two bodies being wrapped in something like a translucent body-bag. The Skavu tried to board the shuttle. That was the point at which Shan snapped.

“Get fucking out!” she yelled. She had her 9mm in her hand and she smashed it across the face of the first Skavu who put a boot on the deck. “Not in here. Just fuck off.”

She wouldn't let them board. The shuttle lifted and Ade found himself in what felt like a bubble filled with the smell of blood. Shan was the only one talking, saying something to Webster that the FEU had slotted Prachy to stop her giving embarrassing evidence, and shot one of the Canadians too, just to spread confusion. It had done that, all right. Once the Canadian cops went down, nobody stopped to work out who was firing.

“Bastards,” said Barencoin in his ear. Who? Canadians, Skavu, FEU? All of them. Ade couldn't take his eyes off Qureshi's face, all that was Izzy gone for good leaving just this blood-smeared frozen mask looking at nothing. He couldn't see Becken's face from this position. “Fucking idiots. Why didn't we armor up?”

I should have got them all armored up, helmets, the works.
But it was just a handover inside the defense shield, and so they hadn't. Ade wanted to go on the rampage, and then he realized why Shan had forced the Skavu out of the shuttle, because she knew him so well.

“Jesus, I should have known the FEU would do this,” said Shan. “We got back all this way, all alive, and I get them killed in this poxy fucking waste of a place.”

Ade was certain right then that had he not reverted to training, he would have said sod the consequences and saved them both, like Aras saved Shan. Later, when his adrenaline started to ebb on the way back to base, he thought that he wouldn't have. He swung between if-only and I-couldn't-have for a couple of hours in complete silence. He just didn't think of it first.

Esganikan had her “balance,” though. Prachy had been executed, and the matter was closed.

If she ever said that to him, though, he'd kill her.

Reception Center's landing area: six hours later.

 

Shan wasn't sure how she was going to last another hour on this shithole of a world without killing Esganikan where she stood.

She found herself almost hammering the shuttle's bulkhead with the heel of her hand to get the bloody thing to extrude a ramp. Aras set the vessel down. There was a second or two of numb silence, and then Barencoin got up and stood beside her. She couldn't even look at him.

All she could feel, over and over again like a vid loop, was the splash of something warm against her face. It was a flashback she had far too often: Ade's memory of Dave Pharoah's brain tissue spraying him at Ankara. But the guilt that went with it was fresh and all her own.

“Aras,” she said. The voice wasn't hers; it was Superintendent Frankland taking over and handling the incident, pure reflex. “Aras, leave the—leave the bodies for me to deal with, and get the detachment to their rooms and
keep
them there.” She didn't want to yell at them at a time like this, but she knew what they'd do: they'd go after any Skavu they could identify, or even one that just looked at them the wrong way, and someone else would end up dead. She knew that urge all too well herself. She didn't care what happened to the Skavu, but she was damned if she was going to lose one more marine. She didn't care if the whole planet was destroyed; she would
not
lose one more Bootie. She'd got them home after all that shit, all that insane
shit
trillions of miles from home, and now two of them were dead because she'd fucked up and not seen trouble coming.

Of course
the FEU would kill Prachy before she could stand trial and embarrass them with her revelations.
Of course
they'd shoot one of the Canadians to muddy the waters. They probably didn't even realize it would tip a tense situation with the Skavu over the edge. And no inquiry would ever identify the gunmen as FEU agents.

That's how it works. Always has. And you should have seen it coming.

The two deaths weren't Esganikan's doing, even if the Skavu were the wrong troops for the job, and they weren't even the FEU's. It was down to Shan. If she'd stopped the marines going, the outcome at the air base would have been the same, but Qureshi and Becken would be alive.

“I don't want anyone going near the Skavu for the time being,” she said. “I'll deal with Esganikan.”

“Ma'am, we'll take care of Izzy and Jon.” Barencoin's voice was quiet, a different man's entirely. “They're our own. No offense, but we want to do it. Not you.”

“Okay.” Shan managed a glance at him, burning with shame and grief.
I got your mates killed. “
I don't even know where to start saying sorry, so I'll do what I have to and see that bitch.”

Ade caught her arm. For a moment Shan thought he was going to take her handgun from her, even though the bloody thing wouldn't have done any lasting damage to Esganikan now. “Don't do it, Boss. Wait a while. Let's all calm down and think.”

For once, Shan didn't
want
to think. She wanted to kill Esganikan Gai
now,
buoyed up on pure clean hatred, because the fucking cow deserved it: she deserved it for lying about
c'naatat,
and sending Skavu in, and probably for a lot of other things Shan didn't even know about yet. But most of all she wanted to kill her because Qureshi's and Becken's lives were over before they'd even had a real chance of living them. If she felt this grief, she dreaded to think what was happening to Ade. His anger had now collapsed and left him quiet and spent.

“Look,” she said, taking slow breaths to calm down. Her anger tended to build after an incident, not ebb. “I have to see her. So get out of way, and let me do what I have to.”

“I'll go with you,” said Aras.

“You will
not.
Look after Ade. I'll be right back.”

“I don't need looking after,” said Ade. “Please, Shan, if there's any scores to be settled, we do it cold, right? We do it
later.
”

She didn't know what to say, so she left. The worst moment was stepping out of the shuttle and leaving the marines with their friends' bodies. It seemed the ultimate act of callous abandonment. It had been a long time since Shan had lost anyone close to her, and her mind was an explosion of assorted bereavement: her own memories of being told that Baz had wrapped the area car around a tree, Ade's numb horror more times than she realized, and Aras mourning his comrades. It was an eruption of grief and guilt.
Jesus, is this how they felt when they were told I was dead?
She had to get a grip. Ade was right. She had always yearned to stop her automatic shutdown of strong emotions and to be able to chase the pain or love to its ultimate expression, but now she knew how the floodgates could be opened again, it was the wrong time and place. If she didn't slam the door on that emotion now, it'd overwhelm her when she most needed to function.

As she walked up to the center, a big black official cruiser was parked right outside the doors; Bari was already here. So he had political flak to handle. Tough shit.

What was it now? Five days? Six? It wasn't even a week since they'd landed, and it was already falling apart. Maybe Esganikan had another definition of
according to plan
that she didn't know about. By the time she had sprinted up the stairs and reached the fifth floor where the Eqbas officers had set up camp, Bari was walking slowly downstairs, head lowered, with his bagman trailing him.

“I suppose you'll be wanting an explanation from me, Prime Minister,” Shan said as she passed them. They stopped. “Because I doubt you got one from Commander Gai.”

He looked into her face. He was dark, mid-forties, with a tight mouth that hinted at a bad temper kept in check. “What happened? The Canadians are going nuts. I'm getting stories about a sniper.”

“The FEU slotted her and a Canadian, I'm bloody sure. The rest—someone drew, the Skavu reacted, and my people got caught trying to stop it. Tell the Canadian ambassador to shove his head up his arse.”

“Commander Gai, believe it or not, is satisfied. She's
satisfied
because Prachy's dead.
Outcomes.
”

And that's why I've got to hang in there and have an orderly handover of power. That's why I've got to get Laktiriu ready to step in, and make sure she's up to the job.

“If it's any comfort,” Shan said, “I'm going in there to slap the shit out of her because two good people got killed.
My
people. I'm doing everything I can to manage this, too.”

“But you're human. This is
your world.
Can't you bring some pressure to bear?”

Shan considered telling him things would be changing before too long, but thought better of it. “That's what I'm doing. Maybe now you realize you're dealing with people who don't think like we do.”

Bari and his assistant carried on down the wide stairway. Shan found Esganikan sitting at the desk in her room with the door wide open like it was a regular day at the office. The walls were covered with displays that seemed to be the same as those in the ship.

“I think the usual opening line is
‘
What the fuck are you playing at,'” said Shan. She had to check that she wasn't reeking
jask
everywhere. The effort of containing it was almost painful. “Two of my people are dead. Your Skavu didn't exactly help matters, either.”

Esganikan never reacted. That was what made Shan really want to punch her face in; the complete lack of anything to come back at. “I told you to let us deal with it in our own way. But you wanted to follow some pointless ritual. Prachy is dead, but your marines needn't have been there, nor you. In the future, you might be better employed sticking to the liaison role, which is your reason for being here.”

Two people weren't supposed to matter more than a whole planet, but right then they did. Shan would never know how she did it; but she kept her
jask
under control, and yet totally lost her temper. She lunged forward and sent Esganikan flying backwards on the stool, crashing flat on her back, and jumped on her chest to pin her down with one arm across her throat. Her 9mm was in Esganikan's face before she even thought twice about it.

It won't kill her. She'll hurt like hell. But then she'll know that I know what she is.

“You keep your Skavu shit under control,” Shan hissed. “You've got five years before the main fleet arrives. And the only reason you're still in command is because
I allow you.”
Esganikan's pupils were snapping open and shut at an incredible rate. She was taller than Shan, but she wasn't any stronger, and that realization gave Shan a massive burst of adrenaline.
I can take the bitch, I really can.
“You know I can depose you, don't you?” She leaned harder on Esganikan's neck. “
Don't you?
You want to smell it?”

Esganikan didn't struggle. Shan—animal Shan, not Superintendent Frankland—wanted to lose control and get it over with. She couldn't, though, not yet. She eased back an inch or two. Esganikan seemed to be playing along with the idea that the gun could kill her. She had to know that it couldn't. The act just made Shan angrier, because this wasn't like any wess'har she knew.

“If you depose me, the Skavu won't answer to
you
,” said Esganikan. “And then you'll have to use the Eqbas personnel to put down any rebellion in the ranks, which I'm certain there'll be, and then the mission will be a disaster.”

It was another good reason for getting Laktiriu in place first. Shan knew she'd have to find another outlet for her rage and grief, which was what all this scuffle was about. But she'd shown Esganikan that she could give her serious personal trouble, and that would have its uses.

“Maybe I don't give a shit about that,” Shan said. “Maybe it's worth it to—”

“Commander!” Laktiriu stood in the doorway, head cocked on one side. Matriarchs didn't brawl on the floor. It stopped her dead. “Commander?”

Shan got to her feet and put the 9mm back in her belt.

“Your boss and I had a difference of management opinion,” Shan said. She hadn't planned this moment, but it was there to be seized as an excuse for her next move. “You'll excuse me if I avoid her for a while. I'll deal with you instead, Lieutenant, or I might be tempted to blow her fucking head off.”

Shan had no idea what rank Laktiriu went by, but now she had a good reason for spending time with her and steering her into a coup. Her own cold opportunism while Qureshi and Becken were lying out there in pieces suddenly disgusted her. As she ran down the stairs, pulse pounding in her throat, random thoughts hit her: What would Eqbas Vorhi do when they found out that Wess'ej had ordered her to execute of one of their people? How many more
c'naatat
were there now? Had Esganikan infected anyone else?

Laktiriu had to be Shan's focus. Right now, though, she had to support Ade and the others.

When she got back to the shuttle, Barencoin and Chahal were securing a body bag. Ade knelt over another, busy with a cloth and a bottle of water.

Webster wandered across to Shan, arms folded across her chest. They'd rarely chatted; Webster was one of those scrubbed, cheerful women who looked as if they belonged on a farm or at the church fete selling cakes, and Shan knew very little about her background.

“Ade was very fond of Izzy,” she said. “He wanted to make her look as nice as possible.”

“Is there anything remotely useful that I can do now, Sue? Other than shutting the fuck up or apologizing?”

“We've got it all under control. And the last thing we do is start throwing blame around. We all volunteered to do this.”

That still didn't get Shan off the hook. “What do we do about burials?”

“Shit, they can't even have a military funeral,” said Barencoin, straightening up. He kept taking deep sighs as if he was having trouble holding back tears. “We didn't get as far as enlisting with the
ADF
.”

“There's somewhere they can both be buried,” said Aras. “The Muslim town where Deborah's taken the colonists. That would satisfy both their final requests, I think.”

“Yes. That's nice.” Ade nodded. He pulled Qureshi's collar into a neat shape and stood up, a small chain dangling from his hand. “They'd have liked that.”

Maybe Ade was getting too used to digging graves for people he cared about. He just seemed quiet. Shan put her arm around him and wished that he hadn't had to see yet another image that would haunt him.

“Okay, let's move them inside.” It would have to be in the food store again, just like it had been on Bezer'ej when they needed to store cadavers from
Thetis
. “I'll give you a hand.”

Shan had dealt with a lot of bodies in her police career and she could always switch off, in some cases more easily than others. This time, she didn't want to.

In a few days' time, Becken would have been best man at her wedding. Qureshi was going to do her hair.

And both of them—she could have saved them, just as Aras saved her. She could have saved Lindsay Neville's kid. But Ade, unlike Lindsay, would have the good grace never to remind her.

 

PM's briefing en route to the UN hub.

 

“You can't suspend parliamentary questions again, sir,” said Persis.

The sky was filling with clouds as the cruiser emerged above ground level, a warning of the severe storm forecast for later that day. The display screen in front of Bari, set in the blast-proof partition between the driver's cab and the passenger seats, laid out too many news feeds and messages for him to take in. But as they all said the same thing, that he'd plunged the world into deep shit, he didn't have to worry that he was missing anything.