The Better Part of Valor (12 page)

“Yes, sir.”

They walked a short distance from the clump of officers.

“Is it true you threatened Presit a Tur durValintrisy?”

Torin met his gaze levelly. “No, sir. She made a statement, and I asked her politely for an explanation, saying both ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ It’s all on record.”

“I’m not an idiot, Staff Sergeant.” He clamped one hand
down on a chair back. His knuckles whitened, his fingers sank into the upholstery. “I am well aware you’re capable of saying
please
in such a way as to blister the finish off a tank.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sighing, he released the chair. “Don’t do it again.”

“No, sir.”

“The scientists will want a day or so to interpret the data. See that our people are ready when they are.”

“Yes, sir.”

Recognizing a dismissal when she heard it, Torin waited until he’d rejoined the others, then she left the room. She was barely three meters down the corridor when she heard someone following, and a moment after that, Craig Ryder fell into step beside her.

“What?”

“Nothing. We’re just going the same way. It’s a free corridor. And,” he spread his arms, “it’s the only way…excuse me…” Spinning sideways, he allowed two of the
Berganitan
’s crew to go by. “…to the links.”

“What are you so happy about?”

“Well, I’m just basking in the knowledge that there’s now a life-form on this ship you dislike more than me.” He hit the link call a second before she could, but when the car arrived, Torin slid past him to claim it.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, as the door closed, “if you were also a reporter, I’d dislike
you
more.”

Staring at the closed door, Craig grinned and hit the link call again.

“She wants me,” he said conversationally to the crewman who’d arrived in time to hear the parting remark.

The crewman stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing.

*   *   *

The next afternoon, Captain Travik, having spent the morning stroking his own ego with Sector Central News, arrived at the enlisted quarters for a surprise inspection.

Torin managed to get him out before much damage had been done. “I want this place spotless by the time I get back,” she snapped, following the captain out the hatch. “And if it doesn’t pass
my
inspection, you’ll be doing it again.”

“First, I’m reporting this incident to the general and then
I’m putting them all on report,” Captain Travik snarled as she caught up. “Every last one of them. When I’m done, the corporals will all be privates and the privates will be…privates for longer!”

“It was an accident, sir.”

“Which was an accident, Staff Sergeant?” he demanded, cradling one hand against his chest. “The slammed locker or the spilled depilatory?”

Since Krai had minimal hair, the depilatory had been more of a waste of time in Torin’s opinion. “Both, sir. You took them by surprise. You were the last person they expected to see.”

“That was the point,” he sneered. “It was a surprise inspection, and they attacked me.”

“They
are
combat Marines, sir, and beyond that, they’re Recon. First in, always facing the unknown, hair-trigger responses; if they’d actually attacked you, you’d be in Med-op right now. But you know about that,
you’re
Recon.” Amazed she’d managed to get that last bit out without gagging, she checked his expression.

The sulky look had vanished.

“Hair-trigger responses…”

“Yes, sir.”

He tentatively flexed his fingers. “It was an accident?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right.” They’d reached the door to his office. He turned and drew himself up to his full height—which would have been more effective had that not put the top of his head at Torin’s collarbone. “For the sake of the team and because we’re all Recon together, I will overlook their behavior.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“This time.” His chin lifted, his nose ridges flushed. “But I’m still recording it, and if anything like it happens again, accident or no, I will not be so understanding.”

“Sir, if anything like it happens again, I will personally hold the air lock open while you kick their collective asses into space.”

*   *   *

Although she’d been gone only a short time, the enlisted quarters were gleaming when Torin returned. Standing just inside the hatch, fists on her hips, she swept her gaze up one
side of the compartment and down the other, allowing it to freeze each member of the team indiscriminately. She didn’t know exactly who’d done what, and she didn’t care.

“Captain Travik has been convinced not to bring the whole lot of you up on charges.” From the stiffening of certain shoulders, the fact that Captain Travik could bring charges hadn’t occurred to everyone. “You lot are luckier than you deserve to be, and if you ever again put me in the position where I’ve got to kiss up to an officer—any officer—to save your sorry butts, I am going to make your lives so goddamned miserable you’re going to beg to be dropped into the front lines stark naked and armed with a sponge just to get away from me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

It wasn’t exactly a unison response, but it was close enough.

“Something funny, Guimond?”

The big Human’s smile disappeared. “No, Staff Sergeant.”

“Good. The whole miserable lot of you are confined to the attachment tonight. No one goes into the
Berganitan.
Twenty minutes, simulation room, full HE gear.” She stepped back through the hatch and slammed it closed.

“Problems, Staff?”

Only with lieutenants who lurk in corridors!
Palm flat against the cool metal of the hatch, she counted to three before she turned. “No, sir.”

“General Morris sent me to tell you that you’re going in tomorrow morning.”

“Thank God.” It felt so good, she checked to see that Lieutenant Stedrin’s masker was on.

He actually smiled, eyes light. “Natives getting restless, Staff?”

“That would be the polite way of putting it, sir.”

“Well, they can keep busy tonight humping their gear to the shuttle. Navy’s moving it to our lock right ASAP. We should have full hookup in thirty,” he added glancing down at his slate.

“Do we have numbers on the scientists, sir?”

“We’re still trying to get them to agree to six, but you can assume eight; plus Ryder and the two Katrien from the news
vids. The general wants everyone on board and ready to go at 0830 tomorrow.”

Nice to get the chance to sleep in. There were benefits to traveling with civilians. “Should I tell Captain Travik?”

“I’ve already done it.” About to turn away, Lieutenant Stedrin paused, his eyes darkening. “You wouldn’t happen to know why he tried to get the drop on me as I came into his office?”

Tried. Torin grinned. “He’s Recon, sir. Hair-trigger responses.”

*   *   *

“Weren’t we supposed to be in the simulation room in twenty minutes anyhow?” Guimond wondered as the sound of the slammed hatch stopped ringing through the compartment.

“She’s not as pissed about what happened as she’s pretending,” Nivry told him, yanking her locker open.

“Oh, yeah?” Heer pulled a sheaf of crumpled schematic diagrams out from under his mattress and began reattaching them to the bulkhead over his bunk. “Then why the CTA?”

“We’re always confined to the attachment just before a mission,” she reminded him. “And besides, she
is
pissed about the sucking up. Today’s simulation is going to be fast and mean.”

“And that’s just the way Werst likes it.” Frii tossed his headphones onto his bunk and made exaggerated kissing noises at the Krai.

Who responded with a curt, “Fuk you.”

“Fast and mean.”

“You’ve still got seventeen minutes,” Guimond said helpfully.

The di’Taykan looked intrigued, but when Werst shot him an unmistakable gesture, he turned to the big Human instead. “What
were
you smiling about, Guimond?”

He shrugged, smiling again. “I just thought that whole naked with a sponge thing was funny.”

Werst snorted.

“You didn’t think it was funny?”

“Moron.”

“Corporal Nivry!”

Waving the others quiet, Nivry opened the channel on her slate. “Staff?”

“Simulation’s been scrubbed. We’re out of here tomorrow. I want the whole team in the armory in fifteen.”

“We’ll be there in ten, Staff.”

“No need to suck up, Corporal, I’m as anxious to get out of this tin can as you are.”

*   *   *

At 0820 Torin stared down at her slate, read the contents again, then looked up at the general. “Sir, I still think the civilians should be on a second shuttle. Our STS can back off, and they can attach the moment we’ve secured the immediate area.”

General Morris shook his head. “They’ve studied the coupling, and they’re afraid that once an STS has detached, it’ll need a complete overhaul before we attach another.”

“With all due respect, sir, what about being afraid of a defense system that suddenly activates while we’re inside and blows them into overeducated sticky bits?”

“Several factors indicate the need for an overhaul, but there’s been no data collected indicating a defense system. Their argument not mine,” he added hurriedly. “Bottom line, Staff Sergeant, if they get themselves blown up, no one’s going to blame you. And Captain Travik will be staying on the shuttle with them. For their protection.”

And will thus have died valiantly should something happen.

It hung between them, unsaid but acknowledged.

“Too bad Sector Central News will have blown up with him,” Torin muttered.

“I’m sure Lieutenant Stedrin will add a satisfactory obituary to his report.”

The lieutenant’s ears turned at the sound of his name. He crossed the compartment toward them, adding new information into his slate as he walked. “The pilot says they’re clear to go, sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Staff Sergeant…”

“Sir.” Torin took a step back, snapped her slate into position on her HE suit, turned on one heel, and headed for the air lock. When she turned to cycle the inner door closed, Lieutenant Stedrin raised a hand in farewell. Although he remained the least di’Taykan-like di’Taykan she’d ever served with, she’d much rather have been commanded by him on this mission than Captain Travik.

Although, since I’d rather be commanded by a H’san’s grandmother, that’s not saying much…

*   *   *

The personnel compartments on ship-to-ship shuttles went straight back from the pilot’s cabin. A double row of seats, back to back, ran down the center with a weapons station both port and starboard. Tsui and Jynett had proved to be the best shots during simulations, so Torin had assigned them the covering seats. With thirty seats to seat twenty-seven, they were almost at full configuration.

The scientists had filled the first ten. General Morris hadn’t been able to hold them to eight—let alone the original six. In typical Confederation fairness-before-all-else, they consisted of two Katrien, two Niln, two Humans, two Krai, and two di’Taykan. The Ciptran had probably been left behind because there was only one of him/her. Because Presit and her crew had claimed seats side by side—although Cirvan was still standing and shooting vid—there were two empty places between the last starboard-side scientist and Torin’s place in back of Captain Travik.

Military and civilians alike were wearing HE suits, helmets off, and the only one who seemed to be missing was Craig Ryder.

No loss. I’ve already got more deadwood than people I can use.

“G’day. Mind if I sit here?” He was suddenly at her left shoulder, nodding toward the empty seat next to hers.

Knew
that
was coming.
“What if I said yes?”

“I’d sit here anyway.”

“So why do you even ask?”

Ryder grinned up at her as he dropped into the seat and reached for his straps. “Just because you’re a grumpy gus is no reason for me to be rude.”

“I’m a what?”

Blue eyes gleamed. “But I’m sure you’re very good at your job.”

Torin opened her mouth and closed it again. There just really wasn’t any point. “Guimond, Orla; check to see that the civilians are belted in properly.”

The two Marines stood and clumped forward, their heavy
soles ringing against the deck plates. Torin stopped Orla as she passed.

“Special attention to the Niln,” she murmured. “They’re never entirely comfortable with their tails stuffed down a suit leg, so they never strap tightly enough.”

“Got it, Staff.” The di’Taykan glanced down at Ryder and her eyes lightened. “You want me to check him, too?”

“No need,” Ryder answered before Torin could. “The staff sergeant’ll do it.”

“Go on,” Torin told her.

Smirking, she clumped off.

Torin leaned down, one hand on each side of Ryder’s shoulders, their noses no more than ten centimeters apart. “You want me to check your straps?” she purred. His eyes widened as her right hand dropped between them. “They seem a little…slack.” A quick yank brought out a strangled yelp and a roar of laughter from the watching Marines. “That’s much better.” She straightened as he pawed for the release catch. “I wouldn’t want anything floating loose.”

“If it floats loose, it’ll only be because you’ve broken it off,” he muttered to more laughter as the straps released.

Torin figured his relieved sigh would be the last she’d hear from him for a while.

On the other side of the seats, Guimond had finished with his five scientists and was trying, unsuccessfully, to get Cirvan into his seat.

“I are just needing a few more things on record,” Presit explained. “It are so important to properly set the scene. Don’t worry, Private Guimond, I are sitting and strapped in before we are detached.” The reporter craned her neck and pointed toward the back of the compartment. “You are telling me, what are that back there?”

“That?” Guimond peered toward the green leather bunk built into the rear bulkhead. “That’s the Med-op, ma’am.”

“The Med-op?”

“It’s the medical station,” Captain Travik rushed to explain.