But Lindsay knew she was responsible for something terrible, and the wess’har were right. She had to take the blame.
The wess’har she passed simply glanced at her. There were no stones thrown or abuse hurled.
“They’re very restrained,” said Rayat.
“Shan always said chilled or punching. This is chilled.” Barencoin glanced over his shoulder at her as if to shut her up. “I think we all know what punching is going to be like.”
“And yet you’re not on their wanted list, Mr. Barencoin,” said Rayat.
Barencoin walked on, oblivious. Jon Becken, right behind them, responded for him. “Yeah, it’s our boyish good looks and smart uniforms. Everyone loves a Royal Marine.”
“We had friends in high places,” said Webster.
At the Exchange of Surplus Things—a big hall with doorless side rooms and absolutely no trappings of grandeur—Ual and Eddie stood talking like old chums while Nevyan and Esganikan watched them with that odd display of head tilting. Wess’har wandered in and out with crates and mesh bags of unrecognizable produce, pausing to stare at the activity in the main hall, but it seemed more curiosity than anger. The place smelled of soil and sandalwood and indefinable vegetable scents. Lindsay felt that she was standing trial in a supermarket.
Serrimissani broke from the discussion and scuttled towards Lindsay, but she slid in between her and Rayat, cutting out the scientist like a sheepdog. “Do you have virin’ve? Communications devices? If so, we require them.”
“Yes.” Rayat hesitated but Lindsay held out hers. There was no harm they could do with them. “There you go.”
“What do you want it for?” said Rayat.
“To determine culpability,” said Serrimissani.
Rayat stared down at Serrimissani and she drew back her lips ever so slightly, just enough to reveal a mouthful of close-packed little teeth. He fumbled in his jacket and pulled out his handheld. She took it and he flinched when her paw brushed his hand.
Rayat looked at Lindsay and shrugged. “A show trial, perhaps?”
“Not their style. And they’re not taking them because they think we’re going to call in air support.”
Serrimissani and Aitassi were conferring, brandishing the two handhelds while Eddie watched the exchange with a slight frown of concentration. He didn’t look her way, perhaps deliberately. Esganikan Gai drew herself up and covered the ten meters to where Lindsay and Rayat were sitting in a few strides. There was something about her manner that reminded Lindsay of Shan, and that wasn’t reassuring.
She stared into Lindsay’s face and then into Rayat’s, head tilting, pupils flaring and closing, and trilled. Serrimissani trotted up beside her.
“She says she needs to understand who is to blame for the events on Bezer’ej so that appropriate action may be taken—no more, no less.”
Lindsay really didn’t like wess’har eyes. It was the way the four pupils constricted to a hairline cross: it made them look like the blind voids of a statue’s eyes, soulless and unfathomable. Her interrogation resistance training enabled her to simply look through the Eqbas, but it wasn’t easy.
“That’s simple enough,” said Lindsay. There was nothing else left to say. “It was me and him.”
Esganikan warbled. Serrimissani appeared to be struggling with the translation and summoned Aitassi. Eventually an English version was extracted.
“She says that fact is not at issue,” said Serrimissani. “You did not bring weapons of this kind with you in Thetis. So another generation was complicit. The Eqbas need to know who authorized or ordered you to take these actions, and then who took steps to right these wrongs, or did not, because they must be held accountable when we reach Earth.”
Reach Earth.
“But half the people you want to punish could be dead and gone in twenty-five years’ time,” said Lindsay, hearing the words reach Earth and desperate to shut out their true meaning.
“Thirty years,” said Serrimissani. “And what your people do between now and then will be added to the reckoning.”
Ade stood at the door, a new mug in his hand.
Shan swallowed her embarrassment and steeled herself for an apology. Being wrong was easy, and so was admitting error. But real regret—regret at lashing out at someone prepared to give their life for you—was hard. She was sorry for very few things in her life, but every one of them ate away at her.
Something in the back of her mind said she had done something particularly unforgivable to Ade.
“So, you got me killed, and I gave you a dose,” she said, saving him the trouble of finding the first words. “I think we’re even.” No, that wasn’t good enough. “Okay. I started the shooting. Sorry.”
He looked up without raising his chin. After twenty-five years of nicking guilty bastards she was utterly immune to appealing contrition, even in a man she fancied, but he wasn’t putting it on.
“No, I’m sorry, Boss. If you think you can hate me any more than I hate myself, you’re wrong.”
“If I hadn’t been about to blow Lin’s brains out, would you have fired?”
Ade chewed his lip. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you stopped her turning me into hamburger. Even c’naatat couldn’t have put me back together again after that.” He was a good meter from her and clearly still too scared to hand her the mug. Her voice sounded like an old woman’s, hoarse and cracking. “Shit, Ade, I’m sorry. I should never have said those things to you.”
“It’s okay, Boss. I know you’ve been through hell.” Hell.
She thought again about the moment the shuttle’s bay opened to space and she pushed herself off the edge of the coaming into the most profound emptiness a human could conceive. The first minute of dying had been hell, yes. They said you could last maybe twelve seconds in space. But that was for regular humans.
The brief episodes of consciousness that followed, with no sense of duration or frequency, were far worse. She couldn’t feel a thing: she was isolated in her own head, a place she had never much liked being. The blind, all-consuming panic when she opened her eyes and realized where she was had been worse than the pain. She fought it.
Do your worst. You think you can break me? I can handle this. I can do anything. Fuck you, I’m going to stay sane because there’s nothing more you can do to me.
She remembered thinking that like a mantra; fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. She realized she’d been railing against God just in case she’d been wrong, and there really was a deity out there somewhere to hear her contempt and defiance. But there wasn’t. There was just her, a scrap of dried meat fueled by anger, and she’d still held on to her sense of self. And she had come back. Nothing, absolutely nothing could ever touch her inner core now.
“Want to talk?” asked Ade. “I mean, it—”
“Maybe later,” she said. The detail could wait. “Not yet.”
“Okay.”
“Is it true you looked after me? Read to me?”
Ade nodded. “Too little too late, eh?”
“I’ve had my tantrum. The slate’s clear.”
“Stop trying to spare my feelings.”
“I can’t be arsed to spare anyone’s feelings, Ade.” Spare mine. Stop being kind. Get angry, for Chrissakes. “Do I get that tea or what?”
“I was so sure I knew what I was going to say to you.”
Ade’s face fell a little more. He didn’t look any different: no claws, bioluminescence or any of the visible retro-fit improvements that her own c’naatat colony had added. She’d been devastated when she found out that Aras had deliberately infected her. The fact that he’d done it to save her life was lost in the brief, raging, utterly desolate realization that she would never be able to leave.
“Ade, do you realize what I’ve given you? Look at me, Ade. You can’t go home. Ever. You can’t have kids. You can’t even sleep with a woman again. Do you understand what all that means?”
His lips moved and she wasn’t sure if he was
forming a reply or trembling. “I know. But I’m alive, and the bezeri aren’t.” There was a long pause. “So, serves me right, eh?”
“Did you object to your orders?”
“Not enough.”
“Well, you probably did all you could.” Shan looked longingly at the mug of tea beyond her reach. She would have told Lin to stuff her orders, but then she had never been a soldier. Police had their own way of ignoring instructions they didn’t fancy obeying. She had never been in Ade’s position so she had no right to judge. And I can’t expect everyone to be me. “If an officer and a spook order you, I don’t think you have a lot of choice.”
“No, everyone has a choice.”
“And having a choice, you must make it.”
“Sorry?”
“Targassat. Those who can act, must.” She held out her hand to him. She knew what it was to be a leper. “You did choose, actually. You stopped her fragging me.” Perhaps the next question was one too many. “What did you feel when you shot me?”
Ade took her hand reluctantly. It must have felt repellent, skeletal, but he closed one hand around it and then the other. “Nothing. The second the firing stared I went on auto. Just reflex. I’m sorry.”
“It’s what we all do. Or we end up dead.”
“I don’t even know how to say this. I’m not Eddie.”
“What?”
“When you—when you just stepped out.” His eyes filled with tears: she was shocked by his emotion. Adoration shone out of him. “You’re the…you’re… sod it, Boss, you’re a fucking hero. A real fucking hero.”
“Bollocks.” She couldn’t meet his eyes any longer. “Can I have that bloody tea now?”
She couldn’t quite manage the weight of the mug, not even with both hands. He held it while she drank. She was so desperate for the comforting taste that she didn’t mind the humiliation of being fed like a child. It was bliss.
“They’re here, you know,” said Ade.
“Who? The World Before?”
“Yeah. EqbasVorhi.” He wiped her chin. She didn’t protest. “Their second ship’s just shown up. They don’t look like the local wess’har and they don’t speak wess’u. And they—well, Nevyan can tell you. She’s with them now.” Ade shut down. His gaze dropped and he lowered both his chin and his voice.
“And what? Come on, Ade, what?”
Aras strode back in to the room, emitting the acidic scent of agitation. He loomed over Ade. “You eat first, isan,” he said, and put a bowl down a little too hard on the nearby table. It steamed alluringly, wafting that spicy scent she’d noticed earlier. “And when you’re able to walk unaided, you can involve yourself in public life again. Until then, you stay put and eat.”
Nobody gave Shan orders. Her normal reaction would have been to walk out and investigate for herself. But she peered under the covers and she could see her ribs, and not just the lower ones like any fit individual might. It was the whole rib cage, top to bottom, with no visible sign of abdominal muscle or pectorals or breasts. It looked as if some zealous medical student had removed every scrap of fat and muscle from a cadaver and then replaced the skin as an afterthought, just to keep everything tidy. She couldn’t begin to imagine what her face looked like. At least she hadn’t had any looks to lose.
“Okay,” she said, swallowing hard. For all the feeling of renewed confidence, a voice inside her reminded her she wasn’t that far the other side of dead. Get a grip, girl. You’ve come through a lot worse than looking like shit. “Here’s the deal. I eat, and you find me someone to teach me eqbas’u.”
“I’ll do it,” said Ade. “No problem, Boss.”
Poor sod. Her anger had burned out. They were three freaks of nature; they had to stick together.
A vague memory of needing to run and hide—not hers—intruded and dissolved again. She settled back on the pillow and decided to pursue it after Aras had finished feeding her.
She didn’t enjoy being helpless. Not at all.
Language was frustrating Nevyan. Esganikan was learning wess’u rapidly but Ual was happier with English; ironically, it was the one tongue that appeared to unite them. Mart Barencoin was a welcome oasis of familiar language even if it was an alien one.
He took a few cautious steps towards her in the Exchange of Surplus Things, his two comrades watching him carefully.
“What are you planning to do with us, ma’am?” He was a little taller than she was, and fascinatingly dark: she remained intrigued by the exotic variety of color in human hair and eyes. “We can make ourselves useful.”
Nevyan wasn’t sure if she should mention Shan to him. “Do you really want to go to Mar’an’cas? It’s not very hospitable.”
Barencoin shrugged. “Chaz and Izzy could do with some help.”
“You have no need to punish yourselves just because I won’t do it for you.”
“I do feel responsible, actually. In human law, I would be.”
“It was Neville, Rayat and the two colonists who took them to Ouzhari who set and detonated the devices. They had the choice not to use them; you transported the devices, which was foolish, but no more foolish than carrying a tilgir and then not using it to kill someone.” She paused to see if there was any comprehension on his face. “Aras has already executed Joshua Garrod. We will locate his companion in due course.”
Barencoin reacted visibly to the mention of Garrod with a small jerk of the head; he smelled agitated. Nevyan was never sure whether to check what humans didn’t know, another problem in dealing with a species that had such a bizarre and proprietorial attitude to information. They told each other some things and not others. She knew now why they needed people like Eddie Michallat.
“What did Josh do that I didn’t?”
“He helped Neville set the bombs and activate them.”
“I transported them. Ade and—”
“Can you not see the line?”
Barencoin’s bewilderment made him look much more like a human child. “I don’t think I’m going to get the hang of this culpability thing, ma’am.” He kept glancing at that light grown into his palm, his bioscreen. All the marines had one: so did Lindsay Neville. Nevyan understood why Shan found the device repellent. “Can we visit Mar’an’cas and assess the situation? And can we see Sergeant Bennett?”
So they still clung to their old identities even after their government had discharged them. Nevyan found that sad. They had no other community, not even in the displaced Constantine colony. “Later.”
“Just tell me if he’s okay. I know there’s something wrong.”
“He’s well.” Secrecy was very hard work. She didn’t like it at all. “He’s had unexpected news, as have we all. When he’s ready, you can see him.”
Barencoin made that shoulder-hunching gesture and raised his eyebrows, indicating he didn’t understand, and she fought a natural urge to explain to him as she would to Giyadas. “We’ll wait,” he said, as if he had another option.
The Exchange of Surplus Things was becoming what Eddie called a circus. He’d explained what that was and she couldn’t see the comparison at all. Shapakti and his crew were moving equipment and Esganikan was taking great interest in Ual while Eddie hovered at his side. Fersanye had volunteered to keep Rayat and Lindsay under control in her home because her clan was accustomed to aliens, having provided brief lodging for Shan Frankland. And many wess’har were simply turning up to deposit and collect produce, stare at the extraordinary tableau, and wander off about their business.
Nevyan wanted quiet order again. This was all her doing. You invited them. It was an uncomfortable time, but something had changed: Shan was back. She felt her confidence growing. She wasn’t alone out in front any longer.
“Hey, Ade!” said Barencoin suddenly. “Where you been, you daft bugger?”
Ade Bennett had come into the hall as if looking for someone. The other marines moved towards him and he came to a halt, smiling, but folded his arms awkwardly and tightly across his chest in
that characteristic keep-your-distance gesture she’d seen Shan use so often. Wess’har parted conspicuously to let him pass and Barencoin glanced at them.
“Waiting for you tossers to show up,” said Ade, clearly with affection.
“You look bloody well. They treating you okay?”
“Like royalty.”
“We brought some guests.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to kick seven shades of shit out of them.”
“I’m a bit busy.”
“Why didn’t you go to Mar’an’cas?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I came back, all right?” There was that slight edge to his tone that said he was the dominant male. Nevyan watched, waiting for the fight. “Look, I have to sort something right now. See Eddie. He’ll get you something to eat.” Ade turned to Nevyan. “Is that okay, ma’am? Can they go to your place?”
Nevyan felt she was collecting stray humans. It would amuse Giyadas, though. Her adopted sons didn’t share the isan’ket’s fascination with the gethes language, but they would watch them for amusement anyway. “I’m sure Eddie is happy to share his food.”
But Barencoin didn’t appear interested in a meal. He exhibited rare tenacity. He had spotted something. “Ade, there’s something well weird going on. What’s up?”
“Later,” said Ade. “And I fucking mean it, okay? Later.”
Then Barencoin reached out towards Ade’s shoulder. Nevyan expected it to be an aggressive gesture and prepared to intervene, but Ade took a step back.
“I thought as much,” said Barencoin, suddenly red-faced. “Oh shit, Ade. You’ve got it, haven’t you?”
“It’s not a dose of clap. And for Chrissakes keep your voice down.”
“Shit.” Barencoin backed off and turned to his two comrades, evidently appalled. He was still glancing back at Ade and muttering shit while he herded them towards Eddie.
“They can keep their mouths shut,” Ade reassured Nevyan. “God knows how he’ll react when he finds Shan’s alive.”