The Better Part of Valor (30 page)

Panting and swearing softly in three languages, Tsui struggled to get down.

Left arm between his legs, Torin tossed her benny to Nivry
and smacked him on the ass with her right. “Stop it! Or you can walk to the painkillers.”

“Fukking hurts…”

“I know.” Shifting his weight across her back, she started for the passage. Three steps to get her balance and then she was running. As she passed the column, she snapped, “Dursinski, Jynett; give me a ten count and then smoke them.”

“Roger, Staff.”

Torin counted strides. One, two…Nivry fired at something behind them.
Goddamned bugs just don’t give up.
Under normal circumstances, she appreciated tenacity but this was becoming too fukking much. Five, six…Tsui’d stopped swearing, but he was holding fistfuls of her combats tighter than he needed to keep from falling. Seven, eight…
Where the hell is that passage?
Nine, ten….

The smoke canisters hit and blew.

Firing ahead of her now and behind, the sound of HE boots slapping deck.

She almost stumbled on the lip of the hatch but caught herself and Tsui at the last moment, then straightened and rolled the injured Marine into waiting arms. Breathing heavily, she slumped back against the wall, one hand held out to Nivry for her benny.

“We have a way out of here?” she demanded of no one in particular.

“Passage conforms to the map, Staff.”

“Perimeter pins set?”

“At the first corner.”

Nice thing about working with Recon, they had the right answers to those kind of questions.

Dursinski and Jynett pounded by a moment later, then Werst and Guimond backed into the passage in a swirl of smoke.

“Close it.”

Facial ridges shut tight, Werst shoved Guimond behind him and slapped the hatch controls.

Torin half expected the doors not to work, but with a familiar purr they slid into place. Big, open spaces in stations made people nervous, so builders always set decompression doors into the exits. Big Yellow had reproduced them here and,
dogged down from inside, they provided a barrier the bugs didn’t have the ordnance to get through.

Probably didn’t…

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as the adrenaline buzz of combat began to die. Her gaze slid over the captain—any relevant change meant he was either conscious or dead. The former would be obvious, the latter…He was a Marine and she’d fight to get him out alive because of that, but only because of that, and General Morris could just deal. She continued scanning down the passage. Kneeling on the deck beside the med kit, Frii had Tsui’s stump up over his thigh and was applying painkillers directly to the raw tissue. The rest of the team were checking their weapons, changing charges if necessary—still edgy, still psyched. Huilin had his benny a little close to his eyes, but his hands snapped the old charge out and the new one in with confidence. The Katrien had rushed for Guimond as soon as he came in and were both pressed up against his side grooming with short swipes of curved fingers and chattering almost quietly to each other.
God help me, it’s becoming a comforting sound. Harveer
Niirantapajee appeared to be asleep. “Anyone else hurt?”

Harrop shook his head. “The plant life did more damage than the bugs.”

“I’m sweating like a pig in this thing, Staff.” Dursinski pulled at a fold in her HE suit. “Can I take it off?”

“No. If Jynett hadn’t been in hers, that chemical burn would have taken off her arm. Be thankful for the extra protection.”

“I’d be more thankful if I wasn’t sitting in a puddle,” she muttered as Torin dropped down by Tsui’s side.

*   *   *

Ryder watched Torin murmur words of encouragement to the wounded Marine and shook his head. Back against the wall, he slid down until his ass touched the deck, then he stretched out his legs. “Okay,” he muttered, just loud enough for the Marines on either side of him to hear, “first she ran across open deck to the column. Then, having set up cover for our retreat, she took out a bug in hand to whatever the hell those things the bugs have are.
Then
she set herself up as a sniper target, ran toward the sniper, and carried that man
pretty much the length of the park, saving his life. And yet, no one seems too impressed.”

“She’d say she’s just doing her job,” Harrop grunted, draining the charge from a nearly empty power pack into another.

“That’s what she says. But what do you guys say?”

“About her doing her job?”

“Yeah, about that.”

Orla exchanged a glance with the corporal and shrugged. “She’s pretty good at it.” Her eyes suddenly lightened as a thought occurred. “You like her, don’t you?” The accompanying gesture made the di’Taykan’s definition of “like” obvious and mildly obscene.

*   *   *

“Staff?” Tsui wet his lips, and Torin braced herself for one of the “what’s it all mean” questions that always seemed to follow a major injury. “How come whenever we meet up with the bugs we’re in a configuration out of one of our heads?”

It took her a moment to regroup. “Configuration?” She smiled down at him. “Big word.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re stoned on painkillers.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s still a good question. How come?”

“I don’t know. Those switchbacks may have been made by the bugs or, since they’ve got the advantage of numbers, maybe Big Yellow’s giving us the terrain.”

He sighed. “I don’t think I want to play this game anymore.” Dark brows suddenly snapped in, and he clutched at her arm. “Staff, where’s my foot?”

She closed her fingers over his. “Totally disintegrated. Not even a toenail left.”

“Good.” Muscles visibly relaxed. “It’s just, I don’t want this ship to have it. You know?”

“I know.” And with any luck it was a lie that wouldn’t come back to haunt her. Torin had no idea where Tsui’s foot was. Finding it hadn’t been high on her to-do list at the time, and she sure as hell wasn’t going back out to look for it.
Let’s just hope it’s not waiting for us at the air lock.

As his eyes began to unfocus, she lifted his hand off her arm and laid it on his chest. His fingers were warm, his injury not as bad as it looked. He’d spend a few weeks with a regen
tube around his leg, and then brand new foot. Thing was, she had to get him to a regen tube.
And to do that, I have to get him to the air lock and off this fukking ship.
Fourteen Marines. Two of them on stretchers. Four stretcher carriers. Thank God, Tsui was Human and not another Krai. Eight Marines. Against thirty bugs, give or take.

Coming to a decision, Torin picked Tsui’s weapon off the deck where Nivry had left it and stood. With the amount of painkillers careening around his system, he wouldn’t be using it any time soon.

Ryder was sitting between Harrop and Orla about twelve meters from the closed hatch. There were deep circles under his eyes and a few lines she hadn’t noticed earlier.
So. We’re all tired.
Stepping over Orla’s outstretched legs, she held the benny out toward the CSO. “I want you to learn to use this.”

He looked startled. “The gun?”

“Yes, the gun.”

Orla snickered—no surprise, di’Taykans could turn a court-martial inquiry into innuendo—but even Harrop looked amused. Torin decided she didn’t want to know.

“Isn’t it against the law for a civilian to carry a Marine Corps weapon?” Ryder asked scrambling to his feet.

Torin stepped back to give him room. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He seemed a little taken aback by the blunt response. “I figured I’d be carrying a stretcher.”

“You will be, but if we’re in another firelight, I want the weapons with the people who can use them. Tsui’s out, and even if the other three were bigger, I couldn’t ask them.” Her lip curled slightly as she glanced over at the pair of Katrien and the Niln. Funny how easily those species who’d evolved past violence had been convinced to allow the less evolved to commit violence for them the moment diplomacy had failed with the Others. “Which leaves you.”

“Me?”

“Unless I’m talking to myself and Orla…” Her gaze slapped down on the di’Taykan. “What’s so damned funny?”

“Nothing, Staff.”

“Harrop?”

“It’s him.” The corporal jerked his head toward Ryder’s back, implication clear:
It’s him, it’s not you.

“I see. Well, as much as I hate to remove Private Orla’s source of amusement…”

Orla suddenly became very interested in her boots.

“…I think maybe we should talk over here.” Grabbing Ryder’s arm, she pulled him diagonally across the passage to the other wall, which didn’t put enough distance between him and the di’Taykan but did, at least, mean she could ignore whatever it was they had going on. “Have you ever fired one of these?”

“No. Not going to ask me if I’m willing to?”

“No. I think you’re smart enough to realize that reaching and holding the air lock is going to take every weapon we’ve got, and if it came to it, you’d rather be unevolved and alive.”

An eyebrow rose at
unevolved
, but all he said was, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t let it give you a swelled head.” She shoved the benny into his hands and twisted the barrel. “This is the laser, it functions pretty much like every cutting tool you’ve ever used.” Reaching out, she tapped a small screen. “This is your remaining charge. The MDC is point and shoot.” She twisted the barrel again. “This is your charge for that.”

“MDC?”

“Molecular Disruption Charge.”

“I can see why you use the short form. What’s it do?”

“Simple explanation?”

“Yeah, please.”

“It causes organics to explode at a cellular level. We use them in situations like this, so we don’t inadvertently hole a bulkhead and die sucking vacuum.”

Ryder frowned down at the benny, then up at Torin. “Isn’t Big Yellow partly organic?”

So it was. And it had definitely been hit on a number of occasions. She had a sudden flash of her benny spread out over the “workbench.” “The ship found out what we were shooting—us and the bugs—and did something to protect itself.”

“What?”

“How the hell should I know? Can we continue?” When he nodded, she lifted her weapon and thrust a finger through the trigger guard. “Same trigger works for both. If it’s locked, and that one is, press on the pad just ahead of the trigger guard; it’s species-keyed to Human, di’Taykan, and Krai. Don’t
forget to check the lock, don’t forget to cheek the charge; empty, these things make crappy clubs. This is how you change the power pack.”

Ryder snapped his pack in and out, gave the barrel a couple of experimental turns, and stared at the data stream. “That’s it?”

“Essentially.”

When he looked up, his eyes had crinkled at the corners. “How come they spend so much training you lot if that’s it?”

“How to shoot’s the easy part,” Torin snorted. “They train us to know when.”

“Okay. When?”

“When I tell you to.” Body still squared off against Ryder, she turned her head. “Frii?”

“We can move him now, Staff.”

“Then let’s go, Marines. Air lock’s not getting any…”

She was looking at Heer, saw his facial ridges clamp shut an instant before she smelled the cinnamon. When the panel popped out above her head, she’d already pivoted more than halfway around. The grenade came as a bit of a surprise—it didn’t look like a smoker.

She caught it one-handed, swore at the heat, saw Ryder go to one knee, stepped up on his raised leg, and threw it back down the vent. It hit the retreating bug in the face and rolled under her thorax.

Good guess that
Oh, fuk
in bug smelled like lemon furniture polish.

Torin dropped, grabbing Ryder’s shoulder, taking him to the ground with her.

“FIRE IN THE HO…”

The deck lifted, slamming them together. Then it lifted again, throwing them against the bulkhead. Teeth clenched to keep from biting her tongue, Torin felt the bulkhead buckle under her shoulder. Then she was falling. They were falling.

A bounce. A hand grabbed at her arm. A blow against her helmet canted it forward over her eyes.

She landed without ever being totally out of contact with the ship—or engulfed by the ship. Both were an improvement on the last time.

A feather touch against her cheek made her think of antennae, but grabbing for it, she stubbed her fingers through
Ryder’s beard. Which explained the yielding surface she’d impacted against.

Her helmet was jammed tight. Torin jerked her head back out of it and shifted around, ignoring the grunts from beneath her until she was sitting half astride Craig Ryder’s hips. She could just barely make out his face in the spill of light from above. He seemed to be grimacing. “YOU OKAY?”

The ringing in her ears drowned out all but the question. When he nodded, she stood. The wall or possibly the deck had fallen in after them, leaving a jagged hole half the diameter of her head about four meters up. An easy climb but nowhere to go.

Harrop’s face appeared, plunging the area into total darkness. Before Torin could use several choice words she’d been saving, his helmet light came on. His eyes were wide, and his lips were moving.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Touching both ears, Torin shook her head. “WAIT!” Bending around Ryder, who chose that moment to stand, she braced one boot on a twisted support beam and yanked her helmet free. Most of the photoelectric coating would have to be replaced, but the PCU seemed to be working fine. She cranked the receiver’s volume and tried not to shout.

“What’s the situation, Harrop?”

“Orla’s nose is bleeding and Tsui slammed his stump into the deck—no other casualties.”

“And the civilians?”

“Gytha’s having hysterics, but Presit’s calming her down.”

That didn’t change Torin’s opinion of the reporter, but it was a nice surprise. The universe had been short of those lately. “No sign of the bugs?”

“None.”

She heard him that time around the PCU, so she took off her helmet and blew out her ears.

“You guys are never going to make it out this hole, Staff. Hang on; Johnston wants to scope it out.”