The Better Part of Valor (20 page)

Of the ten scientists, there were eight dead. Plus Cirvan a Tar palRentskik. Nine.

“You said you bagged them, Nivry; what in?”

“Depends on the size of the piece.”

“Send someone down, I’m on my way up.”

She’d taken only a single step toward the hatch when Ryder’s hand on her arm pulled her up short.

“Are you going to tell them?”

“That they’ve designed this part of the ship around bits they pulled from your head? Yes,” Torin added when he nodded. “I don’t hold back information that might help keep my people alive.”

“You don’t think it’ll distract them?”

“They’re trained to stay focused while penetrating into enemy territory, Mr. Ryder. As long as it doesn’t pin them
down under a withering cross fire before calling in an air strike, I don’t think your head will offer them much of a challenge.”

*   *   *

“Bottom line, Staff Sergeant, if they get themselves blown up, no one’s going to blame you.”

Begging the general’s pardon
, Torin thought, staring at the dead,
but sure as shit someone’s going to blame me if I just leave them here.

“It’s not like you were under fire, Staff Sergeant.”
She could hear the Board of Inquiry as clearly as if she was standing before them.
“You took the time to make field rations.”

Field rations. That would certainly solve the problem. And they probably wouldn’t taste any worse.

“Staff?”

“What is it, Heer?”

“Werst and I would like to do ritual for the two Krai. They were spread around a bit, but if we run them through the mess kit, we can probably get four meals each out of them.”

She frowned down at the engineer. “Did I say field rations out loud?”

Seven bags.

Torin ran her thumb along the edges the explosion had ripped in the wall. If more than five Marines died on the way to that other air lock…

“No one dies.”

“Staff?”

“Bag them, Nivry. We’ll carry them out.”

*   *   *

“
Harveer
Niirantapajee.” Torin looked down at the scientist sitting slumped against the wall, noting three field dressings and, through a singed hole in her lab coat, a glistening blister on one shoulder that had turned gray-green skin a muddy yellow. “I’m Staff Sergeant Kerr. Do you think you’ll be able to climb down a vertical ladder or should we lower you?”

The elderly Niln got slowly to her feet and peered up along the line of her nose, nictitating membrane flicking across both eyes. “Not going to ask how I’m feeling, Staff Sergeant Kerr?”

All right. “Do you feel like you’ll be able to climb down a vertical ladder, or should we lower you?”

They stared at each other for a moment, then the
harveer
snorted. “How far?”

“One level. About three meters.”

“We’re making our way to the next air lock?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where’s your officer? Didn’t you lot have an officer when we came in here?”

“Captain Travik is unconscious.”

“And you’re in charge.” It wasn’t a question, so Torin didn’t bother answering it. “Just so we’re clear, you’re not in charge of me. It was agreed that the science team would operate independent of the military presence on this ship.” Her tail, which had been moving slowly back and forth, began to speed up. “Our investigations were not to be interfered with. I did not agree with Dr. Hodges’ procedure. Molecular unzipping…” Nostrils flared, her breathing had sped up to match the rhythm of her tail. “Dr. Hodges was a fine scientist. They were all fine scientists—although I believe the di’Taykan team’s structural fluidity theory was way off the curve. Way off the curve!”

Anger in the face of death, Torin understood. She pulled one of the seven cylinders from her vest and held it down to the Niln. “If you’d prefer to carry this,
Harveer
…”

“What is it?”

“Harveer
Ujinteripsani.”

“Harveer
Ujinteripsani?” Tail and breathing stopped together. An instant later, just as Torin was running through the little she knew of Niln physiology, breathing began again. Reaching out a trembling hand,
Harveer
Niirantapajee ran a vestigial claw down the length of the cylinder. “Returned to the egg. You did this?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Scooping it up, she slipped it into one of the many pockets in the overalls she wore under her coat, murmuring, “May the First Egg protect and enclose him.” Then she sighed and looked around, as though she were actually seeing the extent of the disaster for the first time. “May the First Egg protect and enclose them all. Well, then, about that vertical descent.” Leaning around Torin, she pointed an imperious
finger toward Guimond. “You can put the big Human at the bottom to catch me, but I expect I’ll manage.”

*   *   *

They moved the gear down first, and then the injured. Torin would have moved
Harveer
Niirantapajee first, but the Niln had wanted to stay with Gytha a Tur calFinistraven, the Katrien scientist. Torin wanted Gytha moved last. The longer they waited, the greater the chance that she’d wake up and they’d have a better idea of what was wrong—not to mention the best way to drop her down nine meters and do the least additional damage.

Both med kits carried stretchers, a rectangle of smart fabric with a handle at each corner. In the end, they snapped it out rigid, using it as a backboard and immobilizing her for the descent in a webbing of rope.

Recon packs carried fifty feet of near weightless rope as part of standard gear. Spun by Mictok—Torin had no intention of asking how, only partly because it seemed obvious to anyone who’d met a Mictok—the rope didn’t stretch, didn’t bind, and damn near didn’t tangle.

“How’s it going, Werst?”

Hanging from his feet above the stretcher, one hand steadying the edge—the only way a Marine and the injured Katrien could descend the shaft at the same time—Werst carefully moved his right foot a rung down. “Keep her coming.”

Braced on either side of the hole, Harrop and Jynett played out another bit of line.

A meter and a half from the bottom of the shaft, the stretcher came to rest across the inside of Guimond’s forearms.

“You know, there’s nothing to her under all that fur,” he murmured as Werst reached down and unhooked the ropes. “She’s so tiny and helpless.”

“And quiet,” Werst grunted. “I’ve never seen one quiet before.”

“She’s only quiet because she’s unconscious.”

“No shit.”

They tipped stretcher and Katrien slightly to get them through the hatch, then Guimond reclaimed her.

“Remember, sentient species; no scratching her behind the ears.”

“Shut up, Tsui.”

He carried her through the maze of cases, emerging in the temporary infirmary to see Huilin kneeling beside Captain Travik with a pouch of water. The captain swallowed and grabbed the di’Taykan’s arm. “It wasn’t my fault,” he said distinctly and slumped back down, head lolling to one side.

Huilin rocked back on his heels and caught sight of Guimond, “Just put her beside the other one,” he sighed, shoving his helmet back far enough to allow a few strands of turquoise hair to escape.

“Where’s
Harveer
Niira…Nyri…Where’s the Niln?”

“Staff’s got her and Ryder checking out packing crates on a ‘look, don’t touch’ basis. She wants to know how good this reconstruction is and if there’s stuff in here that couldn’t have come from Ryder’s memory, she wants to know if either of them recognize it. She says if we can get an idea of who else this barge has been in contact with, we can get an idea of where it’s been and we’ll have a better idea of whose side it’s on.”

“Okay, but what if they don’t recognize anything?”

“Then the civilians are still out of the way while we make ready to move out. Win win situation.” Tilting the helmet over one ear, Huilin granted momentary freedom to new bits of hair. “Fuk, I hate these things. She as light as she looks?” he added as Guimond squatted and set the scientist on the deck beside the reporter.

“Lighter.”

“Good. ’Cause the captain’s got that Krai bone density thing going, and he’s gonna be no fun at all to hump around.”

The rope holding the injured Katrien to the stretcher had been pulled tight enough that thick tufts of fur poked up through the spaces. It didn’t look comfortable. Guimond freed one edge, then frowned over a second set of knots. Unable to tell which way they went, he moved the scientist’s arm out from her body to allow him a better angle.

Her hand brushed Presit’s shoulder.

Two sets of black eyes snapped open.

Guimond barely got out from between them in time.

“Staff? Guimond. The Katrien are awake.”

“Good. Is that them I can hear?”

“Yeah, that’s them.”

“What the hell are they doing?”

“Uh, they were, I uh, guess…grooming?” He winced at a particularly high-pitched burst. “Now, they’re talk…”

A small black hand clutched suddenly at a handful of his uniform.

“Was that
you,
Guimond?”

“Yeah, Staff.” Ears burning, he tried to ignore Huilin snickering.

A second hand joined the first although about ten centimeters to the left and in a significantly less sensitive region.

“Why is Gytha a Tur calFinistraven tied down?” Presit demanded imperiously.

*   *   *

“We’re being tested.” Torin made the statement in a tone so flatly inarguable, her entire audience blinked in near unison. “When Mr. Ryder and I sank through the floor, we spent more time in transit than the depth of the floor would allow for. During that time, the ship clearly lifted information from Mr. Ryder’s mind.” A truncated jerk of her head directed their attention to the surrounding storehouse. “We don’t yet know if information was also taken from myself, Captain Travik, or Presit a Tur durValintrisy, but I expect we’ll find out soon enough.”

Perched near the top of the pile of gear, Orla shuddered dramatically, hair fanning out in a fuchsia halo. “No offense, Staff, but given your simulations, I’d rather not end up somewhere out of your head.”

“Better her head than the captain’s,” Tsui snorted.

Inclined to agree but not letting it show, Torin cut the general agreement off and continued. “Once we solved the communication problem, we got comm contact back. Mr. Ryder and I found our way through a seemingly solid wall…” She couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting toward him. One corner of his mouth quirked up in appreciation of the understatement. “Since then, we’ve been given hatches. The first hatch was locked. Mr. Ryder dealt with it, and the rest have been merely latched. If holing the wall caused the explosion, Johnston found a place where the wall could be knocked down conveniently over a shaft enabling us to join up.”

“That are all being coincidence,” Presit scoffed from the
edge of the group where she and Gytha were sitting so close their fur intermingled.

“No.” Torin shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like coincidence.”

“And you are being who so that what you are feeling means so much?”

“What?”

“She wants to know why
your
feelings should define the situation,”
Harveer
Niirantapajee sighed, shooting an exasperated look at the reporter.

“I are
speaking
Federate,” Presit snapped, actually showing teeth.

Torin caught Werst’s eye and he carefully covered his own.

The Niln slapped her tail against her leg. “You’re speaking the Katrien idiosyncratic version of Federate. If you’re going to learn a language, why don’t you learn the syntax, that’s what I’ve always wondered. Egocentric mammals.”

“Enough!” The whip snap of Torin’s voice sat both Katrien down again and cut off half a dozen other comments. “
Harveer
, thank you for the translation but there will be
no
interspecies conflict. And to answer the question, I’m defining the situation because I’m in charge.”

“Who are saying…”

“They are.” She jerked her head toward the twelve Marines.

Heads pulled almost reluctantly around, the two scientists and the reporter stared up at the mass of black uniforms.

Tsui waved.

“You want to wander around this vessel on your own,” Torin told them, pretending she couldn’t see Ryder grinning his stupid head off over on the other side of the team, “be our guest. You want a hope in hell of getting off this thing, you stay with us, you do as you’re told, and I don’t want to have to keep telling you that.”

“We are not Marines,” Presit muttered.

“That’s for damn sure.” Folding her arms, she swept her gaze over the remains of the boarding party, uniting them again. “Our mission objective is simple; we need to get to the next air lock as quickly as possible and pick up our ride back to the
Berganitan.
”

“You’re sure the
Berganitan
will still be there?”

“I am.” Which she was, and her certainty was all they needed. “The closest air lock is seven levels down, a little over four klicks aft, and about three and a half klicks starboard. Hatch one opens into a passageway that goes forward a hundred meters, then drops into a descending vertical with no bounce and no disruption of airflow that’d indicate an egress—not to mention standard gravity and no visible rungs. Hatch two opens into an identical passageway heading starboard for seventy-five meters, then turns ninety degrees to head forward. This passageway, now paralleling the first, shows no bounce, no egress. Either
could
, eventually, lead us where we want to go, but I’d just as soon not wander randomly around—we need a map.”

“Staff, what makes you think the ship’ll give us what we need?” Nivry’s hair was flicking back and forth. “I mean, maybe we’ll solve the puzzle in this room and it’ll give us…uh…”

“Piped-in music,” Frii offered.

Nivry shot the other di’Taykan an irritated look but let the suggestion stand.

“It’s given us what we’ve needed so far.”

“Yeah, after it exploded and killed most of the science team.”

“I don’t think it meant to do that,” Ryder said suddenly. “I think it saved your captain and the reporter because they were the only two not killed instantly. And I think it removed me and the staff sergeant because we were in danger. And now I think it’s trying to figure out who and what we are.”