An Ancient Peace (49 page)

“You, sir?”

“I'm amused you think that.” He frowned at the report. “We need
to find out who hired Major Sujuno. We,” he added pointedly. “Not you.”

“I was only going to mention that her ship's still in orbit around the H'san planet of origin. She could have left information on board.”

Ng shook his head. “Thank you. We've never held an investigation before. Drop by the housing office, Wardens get quarters on station. Three tendays, level one. We'll let you know when the H'san are available and there may still be a tribunal in your future. Now get out. And tell your di'Taykan to stop trying to suck up to my assistant, or I'll do a more thorough background check on him.”

With a jaunty wave to the Niln at the desk, Alamber fell into step beside her as they left the outer office. “So, how did not defaulting to war work out for us?”

“Surprisingly well.”

“Good.”

“So far.”

Torin gave Dion's cylinder to the Justice Department, but she sent the DNA samples for the three Marines back to the Corps. She trusted them to do the right thing.

Wardens' quarters weren't large, but they were larger than the quarters on the ship and, because everyone got the exact same amount of space, Torin and Craig, like Ressk and Werst, had both a bedroom and a sitting room.

“Good thing. I don't want that staring at me while I sleep.”

“Him,” Torin corrected, adjusting the way the Silsviss skull hung on the wall.

“Doesn't make it better, luv.”

“We don't have to . . .”

“No.” Craig cut her off. “You agreed not to put him on the ship, I agreed he deserved better than a storage locker. I'll get used to it.”

He wasn't just talking about the skull. “We'll be on the ship more than we're here.”

“Torin . . .” He tugged her around to face him. “. . . we have rooms on a station. Rooms that are a damned sight nicer than rooms we'd be in on the salvage station. I never planned for the two of us to live on
Promise
.” When she raised a brow, he smiled. “I know, but not full time. As long as you're here with me, I'm good.”

A few minutes later, on their way to the bedroom, his hand warm against the skin of her hip, Craig leaned back far enough to see the skull and said, “Wipe that smile off your face.”

Yeah. They were good.

All six of them had passed the first-level Warden's exams before the H'san made time to visit the station.

The meeting was to take place in the station's park. The H'san preferred to be surrounded by living things and apparently living Wardens, lawyers, and support staff didn't cut it. Torin arrived first, as ordered, stood on the mark Ng had shown her, and waited.

The H'san had been appraised of the situation. They, or at least
this
H'san had read her report and she therefore, in spite of Ng's threat, had no need to fill in any background details.

Eventually, the doors hissed open again and a single H'san walked through, pausing just over the threshold to inhale and exhale.

A living H'san looked a lot less like a zombie H'san than Torin had anticipated. She fought the urge to tug at her cuffs as they approached. She kept her thumbs interlocked, her shoulders squared, and her weight evenly distributed. She thought of Alamber's hair, still not grown all the way in, remembered his pain, and Binti's and Ressk's, and found her desire to punch the first H'san she saw—amended to first living H'san—hadn't waned.

Alamber had made her get new clothes for the meeting.

“You need an outfit that doesn't look like it's designed for ease of mayhem.”

“That's got nothing to do with what she's wearing, mate.”

The new clothes went with the scarf she'd bought on Abalae, currently draped loosely around her neck and falling to both sides of her left shoulder. Werst had helped her test the tensile strength of the fabric and, if she had to, she could use it to restrain someone.

As the H'san settled in front of her so they were eye to their ridiculously large eyes, they folded their face into an expression of joy—Torin had spent the days before this meeting learning H'san expressions. “Please, relax.”

She moved from parade rest to at ease, noting the warm and fuzzy feelings everyone in known space insisted they had around the H'san were absent. Fighting off a necropolis full of zombies seemed to be a game changer.

Their expression sobered. “You fear I am here to punish you? It is true the Justice Department suggested we, through my speaking, be the ones to deal with what occurred on . . .”

The planet's name buzzed in her ears, not recognizable as a word.

“. . . and to an extent, that is why I've come. Your report was very enlightening. We wanted, through my speaking, to thank you. All of you, through your hearing. By preventing Major Sujuno and the mercenaries she employed from removing our ancient weapons, you've prevented their use in a great many deaths. There is, after all, no other reason for weapons, is there?” The expression looked anticipatory.

Torin stuck with the safe response. “No, there isn't.”

“And you and yours would know that. Thank you for lifting that responsibility from us.”

“You're welcome.
Zegazt
 . . .” It was a title. Learning to pronounce it correctly without spitting had taken almost a full day. Ng wasn't sure what the title meant.

“The H'san liaison to Justice doesn't use it, that's all I know, Kerr.”

“. . . have you, through your species . . .” Close enough syntax for government work. “. . . ever considered destroying those weapons?”

They blinked at her, inner lid first, then the outer. “No.”

“Why not?” She hadn't been told she couldn't ask questions, and she wondered what answers the Justice Department expected her to get.

Another blink. Inner. Outer. “It's our past. We maintain it, through our holding. It remains ours, through our holding.”

And that reminded her of her purpose at the meeting. “I'd like to apologize for the disorder we left behind when we prevented the
weapons you won't destroy from being removed and sold and used.” The disorder had been all she'd been willing to apologize for. One Who Examines the Facts and Draws Conclusions had supported her wording during the protocol meetings. The Dornagain were realists. Insanely methodical, but realists.

The H'san's face wore confusion momentarily on the way back to joy. “You have nothing to apologize for. We've already begun to take care of the disorder, and we'll make certain that no one judges the entirety of the Younger Races based the actions of those few who tried to break our peace.”

“It's sad you have to.”

An appendage waved. “Have to?”

“It's sad that you have to make certain that no one judges the entirety of the Younger Races based on the actions of those few who tried to break your peace.”

That was definitely the confused expression. Torin maintained “speaking to a senior officer” neutrality as the H'san worked their way through her repetition to, “Yes. Sad. And it was a shame . . .”

That expression wasn't shame. Or sorrow.

“. . . the scholar died.”

Torin shifted her expression just enough to meet the H'san's gaze and hold it. “It was a shame,” she said, as the inner eyelid slid halfway across and stalled, “that they all died.”

“Of course.” Inner. Outer. No expression Torin had learned. “I only meant we'd have appreciated knowing one who put so much work into learning about our past.”

Was she imagining undertones around
appreciate?
“
Zegazt,
if you could tell me, why hide the coordinates of your planet of origin only from the Younger Races?”

“Ah. So what has happened won't happen, of course.”

“And now it has happened?”

“Better it not happen again. I'm afraid there is no time remaining; so many calling.” They rose until Torin stood eye to sternum. Noting the point where the power source would go in, she didn't feel intimidated if that was their intent. “We've accepted your apology, however little reason we feel exists for it, as you've accepted our thanks. I think
I have come to know the Younger Races a little better through this, through your living, student Warden.”

Torin came to attention as they inclined their head. “
Zegazt.
”

She stayed in place, as ordered, until they were gone. They undulated a lot more when they were alive.

The entire team waited outside the park when she emerged. “Where's Ng?”

“He left with the H'san liaison and an assortment of assistants. According to a lingering assistant, you talked them into spending more time with the Younger Races. She ran off when we said we'd meet you.” Craig fell into step on one side of her, Werst on the other.

“I didn't talk them into anything.”

Craig bumped his shoulder into hers. “You can be unintentionally persuasive. How did the apology go?”

“They agreed I didn't need to make one.”

“Really?”

She smiled. “Essentially.”

“Did you ask why they refuse to destroy their weapons?”

The smile slipped. “It's their past, they want to hold it.”

“So, they refuse to destroy their weapons because they don't want to destroy their weapons?”

“Pretty much.”

“And the rest of it?”

“Honestly, I don't know. I suspect I was speaking to a politician.”

Ressk leaned out around his bonded. “Were they male or female?”

“No idea.”

Binti shook her head. “You got
anything
for us, Gunny?”

“They smell a lot better when they're alive, like puppies and pie.” She thought about that for a moment. “Sequentially.”

“So, Boss . . .” Alamber walked backward down the corridor, still relatively empty after the passage of the H'san, “Something occurred to me. The Younger Races don't know where the H'san planet of origin is, right? And they think it's lost, so they don't know to ask, right?”