Judge (6 page)

“You think Shan's going to go ballistic at you for staying here, don't you?” Erica said. “Look, she's half a bloody galaxy away. What's she going to do about it?”

“You never met her, did you? And it's not that far.”

“I saw her a couple of times. But she's still a long way away.”

“That's the problem. I let her down.”

“Eddie, do you
really
want to be back there? With half the world waiting to start a war with the other? Oh, wait—that's just what you miss, isn't it? The good old days of watching someone else get their head blown off.”

“Okay.” Eddie waved vaguely, not sure if he was waving her away or waving her off. “Okay.”

Erica turned up the audio. The sound of studio chatter filled the room. “Promise me you won't rant about what an inane bunch of wankers young reporters are today. Just accept you feel left out.”

“No, I'll rant…it's a reflex when I see morons.”

The insets at the side of the screen were far more interesting than the main image. There was a studio discussion between political commentators, a feed from a green rally, and another aerial mapsat shot of the FEU carrier group patrolling along the edge of Australian waters. Eddie focused on the rally and opted for the image, making it fill the screen; it had that excited sense of people waiting to see a movie premiere, not cowering masses on the brink of apocalypse. He wondered if they had any idea that even the massive environmental efforts they'd made in recent years might not buy them time with the Eqbas. And if the Eqbas didn't start a shooting match, the FEU looked like it would.

Nothing like an excuse to start up old feuds. The Eqbas are coming to cull the herd, and all we can do is squabble over who gets to be first in the queue.

Eddie had played the game of working out just what level of human population the Eqbas would think was viable to give other species a place at the table. Two billion? One? It sure as shit wasn't going to be the current seven billion.

“I still think Shan was mad to go back,” he said. “I guarantee they won't be able to resist having a crack at grabbing her.”

“Which
they
?”

“All of them. FEU, Sinostates, even the Aussies.” Eddie had said too much at the wrong time about
c'naatat,
but he hadn't been believed by his news editor in the end. The FEU wasn't quite so quick to dismiss it; they wouldn't have sent Rayat to check it out in the first place. “They just need a sample. Nothing more. But that's Shan for you—she can't delegate.”

As he concentrated on the green rally, he watched a reporter doing a vox pop in the crowd. Whatever a reporter was these days, he had no idea: some wannabe twat gagging to do the job for free or even pay for the privilege, just to get some reassurance that they existed by seeing themselves permanently recorded in some news archive, so they'd be somebody. Next week, they'd be back to serving donuts. When did reporting get to be about the reporter? In his day, it had still been about the story, outward-looking, inquiring; now it was a karaoke night. Maybe he was better off out here after all.

At times like this, Eddie missed Shan. She understood the therapeutic value of a good effing and blinding session. “Too many citizen journalists,” he said. “Bloody amateurs. Shame the development of the human brain didn't keep pace with the expansion of self-publishing technology.”

“You're right, it
is
a reflex, isn't it?” Erica leaned over his chair and kissed him on the top of the head. “I'm going to be back by lunchtime. Olivier found a cave system and wants me to put an optic line down there to chart it.”

“But you're not going in, right?”

“No, that's what an optic line's for, poppet. Remember? White man's magic? The cam?” She paused at the door. “Why not go down to the exchange and see if Giyadas wants to watch this too?”

“Yeah. Maybe I will.”

“And don't forget you've got to pack for Jejeno. You've a lot to do.”

The door closed behind her as easily as she seemed to leave Earth's woes behind. This was a house full of memories today, because this had been Aras's home, the setting for so many painful, shocking and even wonderful times that Eddie had partly forgotten until now. The distance of years now lent a vivid relief to it all. Maybe the reality had been different, but he had—he absolutely
had
—seen Shan brought back like a mummified corpse from space, from the dead depths of absolute cold and airlessness, and he'd seen her breathe again. He hadn't imagined that. He knew exactly what
c'naatat
could do.

I bet Shan would be amazed at Umeh now. Another dead thing come back to life, at a price.

At sixty-eight, Eddie had a lifetime of headline memories to catalogue. The last years had been tame by comparison. But they had been spent living among aliens, and once again he was in a blasé period about that. Wonder waxed and waned.

What's it going to be like talking to you again, you old tart? You saw me a few months ago. I've missed you for a generation. The reunion's going to be very one-sided, doll.

How long had she been thawed out from cryo now? Maybe she'd call him soon, keen to share the experience with him. He envied her being in the thick of things, and if only he'd gone too, if only he'd been there right now—

“We're going to have to leave that report now and bring you breaking news—reports are coming in of an incident involving the Eqbas flagship and FEU fighters over European Antarctica,” said the anchorwoman. She seemed to have no footage to run, and it was frustrating her visibly. Her fancy hairstyle quivered as she fidgeted. They were all used to simply jumping from feed to feed now, rarely interpreting, offering nothing to guide the viewer. No wonder news ratings had fallen off in the last few years. “We don't have pictures yet…I'm being told that the alien fleet is simply too fast for our unmanned newscraft to follow. We'll bring you mapsat or cockpit images as soon as we can.”

“What incident, you silly cow?” said Eddie. “World war? Argument over a parking bay? Jesus H. Christ, this is the worst time to go with half a story…”

But his stomach was churning, and he knew how this would end, because he'd seen it all before. The last thing running through his mind right then were his fears for his buddies. He had complete faith—blind, even—in Eqbas might, but part of him, the largest part, felt a gut-churning dread for his world even if he'd never see it again. It was his son's future—and most of his own memories, which was all anyone was left with in the final days of life.

I'm only sixty-eight. This is insane. Stop the mawkishness.

Eddie grabbed a cup of tea, made from the bushes that Aras had planted for Shan, and settled in to be a very reluctant spectator for the rest of the day.

I should have been there, though. What a fucking story.

He thought of calling Shan on the ITX, but that was probably the last thing she needed right then.
Boy, I've got slack in my old age.
There was a time when he'd have called her on her deathbed and not felt a scrap of guilt, because the story came first, cold and pure. He waited a full hour before the first images began to show up, and as a blurred oval streak shot through a sky-colored frame—totally meaningless, minus scale, but the best they could do thus far—the ITX link chimed.

Eddie half stood, hand braced on the arm of the sofa, looking over his shoulder at the console to check the source. He didn't want a conversation right now, but it might have been Nevyan or Giyadas, and they didn't call for idle gossip. But the light showed the link was coming in from Earth. From
home.

At last, BBChan News Desk had remembered they actually had someone out here, someone who'd been under fire in an Eqbas ship, someone who'd had a front-row seat for the destruction of Umeh, their man in the Cavanagh system.

He'd try to be gracious. But they'd taken their fucking time. He got up and squeezed the
virin
in his palm, opening the link at his end.

“Michallat,” he said, trying to sound busy yet distracted. There was nothing worse than making 'Desk feel that you waited on their calls like some love-struck teenage girl. He patched the link through to the main screen, but the icon was blank, just faintly crackling dead air. “Who's that?”

“Mr. Michallat,” said the voice. “This is the office of President Michael Zammett. Can you talk? We'd like some independent input…”

For some reason, Eddie was disappointed that it wasn't News Desk.

 

Australia, Earth: St George landing site.

 

“That was just insane,” said Shan, but she seemed to be concentrating on the screen of her swiss and cursing to herself as she walked along the main passageway of the ship. Ade Bennett followed her with that fixed lack of expression that indicated he was agitated. “Jesus, why provoke them? You could have waited a few days before starting a shooting match. So maybe we could unload the bloody
Actaeon
crew without this becoming an international brawl.”

Esganikan had the feeling of being in a post-cryo haze from which she hadn't fully awakened; the present was there, but overlaid by an almost visible mesh of translucent images. When the hatch opened and the ship's ramp extruded from the bulkhead, she saw flash-frames of a city she didn't recognize, gray and square.

“I'm not bound by Earth's internal borders,” she said.

Is this dreaming? I thought humans did this in their sleep.

Eqbas didn't dream as such, but these images, a whole random sequence of them, had begun intruding on her thoughts within a day or so of the
c'naatat
organism entering her bloodstream. They were memories of experiences she was certain she'd never had, and she was beginning to feel real fear about what
c'naatat
was doing to her.

“There's such a thing as not making more trouble than you need,” Shan said, clearly angry even if her scent was suppressed. “It'll save you time in the long run.”

Children. Human children. Whose? No, I can remember
being
one…

“You're too attached to Earth,” Esganikan said flatly, making an effort to concentrate on the solid world in front of her. “I treat Earth no worse than Umeh, and you went along with that, did you not?” She turned to face Shan, and at that moment she couldn't tell if this was a woman with whom she had everything in common or potentially her worst enemy. “In fact, I showed much more caution. I merely flew over the European outpost and I fired no shots even when fired upon by that ship. If you recall, I destroyed a military base on Umeh for firing on us. That demonstrates my restraint.”

“Well, the bloody warning flare ruined the pilot's fucking day, I can tell you
that.
” Shan was furious, but totally devoid of scent. It always struck Esganikan as devious rather than diplomatic that Shan used her ability to suppress her signaling, even if she understood her unwillingness to emit
jask.
“The poor bastard had to eject. He's probably injured.”

“He flew too close. He clipped the shield.” Esganikan couldn't understand Shan's reaction. A vessel of war had behaved aggressively. Did she think humans would be treated any differently from isenj? “The FEU is not your ally, nor mine.”

“This is about using an appropriate level of force. Why the hell did you want me along for the ride if you're not going to listen to advice from your tame monkey?”

Esganikan didn't fully understand the retort, either, and had more pressing things on her mind. She couldn't seek advice from Shan about
c'naatat
: Shan didn't know that Esganikan carried it, and neither did the crew—yet.

It was an alien thing, this need to conceal facts. Wess'har didn't lie. But something in Esganikan said that she had to.

Shan will turn on you.

Your crew will not, but the Skavu will despise you for it, for being an abomination, and then you won't be able to command them.

Esganikan heard those thoughts almost like a stranger's voice whispering to her. This wasn't how she would have reacted in the past. She considered
c'naatat
, of the way it resurrected the attitudes and memories of previous hosts, and remembered thinking she would be better able to handle human deceit through the genetic memory of Mohan Rayat, an accomplished spy and liar.

I took on those traits. I have to be careful how I handle them. I have memories and characteristics from every host
c'naatat
has passed through.

It made sense to keep it from Shan, though. The woman was so adamant that the parasite shouldn't spread that she trusted nobody else with it.

This is how corruption begins. One small concession at a time. One thing you feel you have to do for a good reason.

Esganikan wondered what else
c'naatat
was going to change in her attitudes. Would she even know it was happening? That was what she feared. She'd been prepared for her body to alter out of all recognition, like Aras's, but not her mind. That was much more disturbing.

She walked down the ramp and onto the desert itself, through the defense shield that also maintained a habitable environment. Searing dry heat hit her in the face like something solid; she heard Shan puff out a breath. Ade Bennett fanned his hand in front of his face and said something about
redders,
which was incomprehensible, and the three of them stood looking at an undulating layer of air that warped the horizon into a hazy mass floating above the horizon.

“Home, Boss,” said Ade. He turned to Shan and gave her a quick display of his teeth, eyes darting over her, but he smelled agitated and distinctly wess'har. They were all chimeras now, all a ragbag of species. “Hey, it still feels like…well, we did it.”