An Ancient Peace Read Online Free PDF Page A

regular schedule—but he preferred to be sure before he walked away.
    And not only because of the “court appointed” part of the sessions. They all joked about it, sure, but Werst had seen the changes in Torin after Vrijheid Station, had seen the shadows behind her eyes, and, since she wouldn’t talk about it with the team, Dr. Ito became a necessary evil.
    Gunnery Sergeant Kerr had been one of the best Marines Werst had ever served with. With the weight of the Corps behind her, she’d been able to be as practical and as ruthless as needed to bring her people home alive. Leaving the Corps hadn’t worked out quite the way she’d expected; the life she’d tried to build with Ryder had been kicked apart by some Grade A assholes—currently space particulate thanks to Mashona’s aim. Without the weight of the Corps behind her, Torin had been searching for definition, and whatever had happened in the shuttle bay on Vrijheid, whatever made that fight, that death different, had skewed the way she saw herself.
    Werst knew
not quite right
when he saw it.
    The others didn’t see it. Ryder, for all Werst generally approved of him, didn’t have the context to see the differences. Mashona saw better from a distance. Ressk was better with code than people.
    Gunny said she was fine.
    For fuk’s sake, she was Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr. Of course she was fine.
    â€œShe’s fine,”
echoed Ryder and Binti and Ressk.
    Alamber . . .
    To give the little shit credit, Werst acknowledged, heading back toward the vertical, Alamber had noticed something was off. He was probably trying to take advantage of it, but at least he’d seen it.

    â€œAnd you don’t think it might be better if you made a clean break from the Corps?”
    â€œAnd what exactly might be better, Doctor?” Torin raised a brow and the doctor smiled. Her first court appointed psychologist—after the exploded pirates and the destroyed station—had been brand new to the job and that had been a disaster. Dr. Ito, however, had a streakof cynicism Torin could relate to and he almost understood. About the war with the Primacy. About how the war had more or less ended once she’d discovered it had been a lab experiment run by sentient, polynumerous molecular polyhydroxide alcoholydes—hive-mind organic plastic. Granted, the war had “ended” more on some days, less on others. About what she’d done and what she’d been willing to do when Craig had been taken and tortured by pirates. About the weight of all the small metal cylinders she still carried, the ashes of all the Marines she hadn’t been able to bring home alive, although the cylinders themselves had long since been returned to family and friends.
    When she got around to mentioning it, he might even understand how it had felt as though she’d been fighting herself in that explosives locker.
    â€œYou haven’t actually been a Gunnery Sergeant for some time now, Torin.”
    â€œYou never stop being a Gunnery Sergeant, Major.”
    Dr. Ito’s left eye twitched. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he preferred to be addressed by the medical honorific. “I think you’ve just made my point for me.”
    â€œI notice you don’t have any visible plastic in your office.” Torin smiled. In the year since the hyper-intelligent shape-shifting organic plastic had been exposed and had admitted to manipulating both the Confederation and the Primacy into a centuries-long war, natural fibers had started to make a comeback. “Is that for my benefit or for yours?”
    â€œAre you still angry that you haven’t been sent out to hunt for the plastic aliens?”
    Torin stared across the room at the psychiatrist. Dr. Ito stared back at her. They’d spent one whole session like that, Dr. Ito silently waiting for Torin to answer, Torin wondering how long he’d wait.