An Ancient Peace (48 page)

“Don't,” Torin pointed at Alamber, who closed his mouth and looked innocent, “say it.”

“Hey, Boss.” Torin took her feet off the second chair so Alamber could sit, but he waved them back and leaned on the pilot's chair instead. He nodded toward the window. “Staring out at a mathematical construct?”

“Working on my sitrep for the tribunal.” She'd left Craig in their quarters, sleeping, satiated, and snoring.

“You should've recorded yourself convincing us and played it for them.”

“They weren't there, they're going to need more detail.”

“I guess.” She could feel his fingers in her hair. “So, Boss, when you said we were going to be Wardens, you meant all of us, right?”

“I did. Although if anyone doesn't want to . . .”

His fingers stilled. “It's not that.”

“They take all of us or none of us, Alamber.”

“And we stay together?”

“Our value to the Justice Department is as a team, not as individuals. Yes, we stay together, or we don't stay.”

His sigh sounded a little shaky, but his fingers began moving again, fingernails scratching lightly at her scalp, the heightened sensuality distracting from any hinted weakness.

It felt good, so Torin didn't stop him.

“Boss, you know how you're always saying we could use another di'Taykan?”

“Yes.” Not entirely an unexpected conversation given that they now had another di'Taykan.

“The whole pirate thing aside, we could use one who hasn't slaughtered six people and not given a crap.”

“He told you?”

“He bragged about how he did it. If he's my only option, I'd rather be alone.”

“He isn't and you're not.”

“I know.” A finger stroked the top of her ear. “So can we . . .”

“No.”

“You are being close to having run out of time.” Presit folded her arms and glared up at Torin.

When they exited Susumi space, her ship had been waiting . . . not where they left it, but five hundred kilometers back of the jump point, safely away from the energy wave.

“My pilot are not being entirely stupid. He are knowing you are having the equations to be jumping back where you are leaving from if you are returning Jamers to me as you are having promised. I are not wishing to be changed on the molecular or any other level, so we are having moved.”

Craig and Torin had taken the shuttle over and once hooked in, Presit had come to them.

Torin smiled at her reflection in Presit's mirrored glasses. “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

“I are not having the faintest idea of what you are talking about.”

“I'm not entirely certain myself.”

Presit threw up her hands, metallic nails glittering, and stomped over to Craig, the silvered ends of her fur flicking up and down with the force of the movement exposing her darker undercoat. “Why are you putting up with her again?”

“Must be love.” He met Torin's eyes over Presit's head and winked.

“It are certainly not being good sense,” Presit muttered. She sighed, combed her claws back through her whiskers, and turned to face Torin. The social aspect of the meeting had clearly ended. “So, I are not seeing Jamers with you.”

Torin opened her hand and shifted the metal cylinder until she held it between thumb and forefinger. “Jamers was dead before we landed. Alamber found her body.”

“She are being in that?”

“She ar . . . is.”

Toenail ticking faintly against the deck, Presit walked over and held out her hand. The cylinder was large enough, her hand small enough, she couldn't close her fingers around it. “Her death are being an accident?”

“No.”

Presit growled low in her throat. “And you are not being able to tell me the details?”

“If you knew the details, you'd have to tell them to your
strectasin,
” Torin reminded her.

“And she wouldn't be happy,” Craig added.

“And when she are unhappy, she are being all about taking it out on the messenger. So I are giving up this story in order to be getting out with my pelt intact.” Her sigh suggested she'd given the potential loss of her pelt some consideration. Then her grip tightened on the cylinder and her muzzle rose, white points of teeth showing. “You are having brought whoever are having caused her death to justice?”

Torin remembered her only sight of Sergeant Toporov, his body moving to ancient H'san programming. “He paid for it.”

Presit tapped her nails against the cylinder. “That are not what I are asking, but I are allowing it to be your answer.”

“Thank you.”

“I are not needing your sarcastic
thank you
, Gunnery Sergeant Kerr.” She tipped her head up, and although Torin couldn't see her eyes, she knew Presit was studying her face. After a long moment, the reporter nodded. “So. Now what are happening?”

“You'll take Jamers to your
strectasin.
We'll go back to work.”

“Vortzma!
”

Torin had no idea what the Katrien word meant, but the delivery hurt her ears. From Craig's reaction, she guessed it wasn't a nice word.

“That are not what I are asking, and you are knowing it.”

“Change,” Craig said softly. “Change is happening,” he repeated when she turned to face him.

Presit nodded. “Well, that I are not doubting if you are insisting on remaining with her.”

“She's stuck with me.”

Presit nodded again. “Good.”

Torin folded her arms and didn't ask what she meant.

Lanh Ng met them at intake when the
Promise
, her registration reset, arrived at Berbar, Justice's station in MidSector Seven.

“He doesn't look happy,” Binti said behind Torin's left shoulder.

“He never looks happy.”

“I don't look happy,” Ng snapped, “because, as the only Human Warden, I'm stuck dealing with you lot. Who, I might add, are more trouble than the other three special operation teams combined. And don't . . .” He pointed at Alamber. “. . . tell me it's because you're that much better than the other three teams combined. It's true, but I don't want to hear it. Intake forms.”

Torin touched her slate to his.

Ng studied the forms—perfectly filled out—and then studied the three prisoners—Alamber had wanted to list them as two and three quarters prisoners, but had lost the vote. “Process them,” he said to the Warden on duty, then pointed at Torin. “My office. Now. The rest of you, when Meticulously Records Every Detail is done with you here, stay out of trouble and keep your mouths shut. You're in the air lock, the lot of you, don't give me a reason to open the outer hatch.”

Torin followed him to the vertical. They rode up to the admin levels in silence. She nodded at his assistant and followed him into his office and stood at ease in front of his desk. Ng hadn't been military, he'd been a lawyer with Justice when he'd made his lateral career move, and he didn't require military bearing. She didn't exactly require it, couldn't decide if her posture was habit or comfort, but fell into it automatically.

He finally put down his slate and studied her face. She stared over his left shoulder.

“You broke your face again. You should stop doing that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why didn't you come to me with this in the beginning?”

She'd included her reason in the sitrep. “Because I believed Colonel Hurrs when he said that taking it to the Justice Department, allowing the Elder Races to know what was going on, could lead to a civil war.”

“Okay . . .”

“We also had no idea of the grave robbers' time frame, we only knew they were close. There was a chance that while the Justice Department deliberated over what should be done, they'd have weapons off world and begin another war.”

“That wasn't in your report.”

“It only just occurred to me.” Meticulously Records Every Detail was not the only Dornagain in the Justice Department. The entire species seemed to be natural bureaucrats, and when they deliberated, they took enough time to analyze every possible option. Every potential option. The lunch order.

“You do not know better than the entire Justice Department. You can't go charging off on your own because you think the Confederation needs saving.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What does
yes, sir
mean?”

“I do better work within a structure.”

“Like the Marine Corps.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Or the Justice Department.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when you do better work, your team does better work.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Although your definition of
within a structure
seems to be interestingly nuanced.”

“Sir?”

“Stop doing that, you know it pisses me off.” He looked down at the report, now on his desk, and flicked through the pages. “You broke the law when your team cracked those buoys. You know that, right?”

“In the pursuit of lawbreakers when speed is of the essence, if there is no danger to any citizen of the Confederation, laws may be set temporarily aside as long as a full report is made of each instance.”

Ng stared at her. “Are you quoting the manual at me?”

Torin stared back. “Yes, sir, I am.”

“I'm amazed you even realized there was a manual.”

“I make myself aware of anything that'll help me do my job and bring my people home.”

“And cover your ass. Well, done.” He sighed. “You confuse the rest of the department. You know that, right? From Meticulous right up to the minister in charge. As a result, they've kicked your report, and everything it means and implies and insists on, back to me. And I am giving you and your team three tendays to pass the first-level Warden's exams. You're right, you're not weapons.” His mouth twisted. “
We're
not weapons, and if we reinforce the separation between the Younger and the Elder Races, that's how they'll continue to see us. Not all of them, but enough to cause significant problems.” He tapped the screen and the report flipped through to the final page. It took a while; Torin had been thorough. “In the end, I can essentially guarantee that you and yours will be treated as requested because, however you accomplished it, by stopping the sale of those weapons, you saved millions of lives and very probably stopped, if not a war, any number of armed conflicts.”

“Those were our orders, sir.”

“Were they? I'll see that whoever has words with Colonel Hurrs mentions you followed them.” His lips lifted off Human teeth in a very Krai expression. “And someone
will
have words with Colonel Hurrs.” Head cocked, he leaned back. “As Wardens, you'll have an entirely different relationship with the military.”

“I thought you'd be happy about that.”

“Oh,
I
am. Now, here's the fun part.” He leaned forward again, elbows on his desk. “While I talk the Justice Department through the mess you've dumped in my lap, using small words and probably pictures, someone gets to tell the H'san all about trespassing and destruction of monuments and adventure time with their dead. Guess who that's going to be, ex-Gunnery Sergeant Kerr?”