The Better Part of Valor (34 page)

Poor little thi…
Torin cut the thought off short. They were not poor little things, they were adult members of a sentient species both of whom had considerably more formal education than she did.
And if even
I’m
falling into the cute furry darlings trap, it’s no wonder they get away with being so obnoxious.

Although in all honesty, Gytha was a sweetheart and Presit wasn’t any more obnoxious than any other reporter Torin’d had the misfortune to meet.

You’re doing it again.

If the shuttle wasn’t there in half an hour, she was taking one of the three stims provided to sergeants and above. She’d need a clear head if the bugs attacked and fuzzy thoughts about the Katrien indicated anything but.

Leaving the civilians, Torin moved out to check the perimeter. Emptying out the remaining food and water, the ropes and the med kits, they’d snapped all the packs together into two barricades three packs wide and two high coming out from both bulkheads twenty meters down the passage from the air lock. Made of the same fabric as the combats, they were a small but psychologically necessary protection. Harrop and Dursinski had pulled the watch. The hatch leading back to the tank room had been welded shut.

Laser charges were holding; MDCs were nearly spent.

Ryder sat, back to a bulkhead, talking quietly with Orla
and Huilin. Given they were di’Taykan who’d been forced to go twenty-three whole hours without sex, Torin could guess the content of their conversation.

Directly across from the air lock, Heer was patting the wall with one hand, and holding his slate up to his face with the other. “There’s something here,” he said when Torin asked. “The
Harveer
copied one of her programs to my slate and had me running auxiliary scans around the lock. When I turned with the scan still running, I got one strange reading off this wall.”

“A
strange
reading? What would you consider a normal reading on this ship?”

“Not strange in that way, Staff. Strange in that it resembled a piece of the code defining the air lock.”

The section of wall looked as gray and blank as any on the ship. “It can’t be a second air lock.” She pointed across the passage. “Not if that’s the hull.”

“I don’t think it’s a second lock, I think it’s a…”

A two-meter-by-a-meter-and-a-half piece of the bulkhead slid sideways. Behind it was a small access tunnel and a ladder leading down.

Heer looked up at Torin and grinned. “I think it’s an access tunnel.”

“And one without a bug in it. Nice change.” She dropped a perimeter pin. It stuck to the deck as it landed and registered no movement on the lower level. “Spatially, this ought to make Johnston happy.”

“Staff?”

“Never mind.” A half-turn checked out the available Marines. “Orla, Huilin, got a job for you.”

Ryder shot her an indecipherable glance which she ignored. Not everything was about him. In fact, not much of anything was about him.

*   *   *

“Staff, Orla. You’ve got to see this.”

“On my way.”

The lower level had four hatches and four control panels built into the bulkhead defined as the hull by the air lock up above. “Escape pods?”

“Well, they’re not like any we’ve ever seen, but it’s our
best guess. Look.” Orla pressed her hand against one of the hatches and a section twelve centimeters by eight cleared.

Torin leaned forward, staring through the window into a gray padded interior. It looked like no escape pod she’d ever seen either, but—in a weird way—it looked like all of them. They could probably fit both Katrien in it with no difficulty, but of the larger species there’d be room only for two di’Taykan and their total lack of issues concerning personal space. To get two Humans or two Krai into them, they’d have to be under heavy fire with no other chance of survival. In Torin’s experience, no other chance of survival settled
issues
pretty damned quick.

Given the way the last twenty-plus hours had gone, too few escape pods to save all her people were high on the list of things she didn’t want to see. The one thing she knew for certain was that Big Yellow had an agenda, and this didn’t look good.

“Should we get the
harveer
and see if she can open them, Staff? Just in case?”

“No, not right now. She’s still working on the lock and after that, I’d like her to have her rest a bit before she has to face a vertical ladder. She’s old, and it’s been a long day. And, Huilin, put your goddamned helmet on.”

He sighed deeply but obeyed. “It doesn’t fit under the HE’s helmet, Staff.”

“When you’ve got the HE’s helmet on, you can take your combat gear off, but not before.”

“We going to guard these things, so the bugs don’t get them?”

“No, the air lock’s more important. They try to rush us and we’ll need all weapons. We’ll set 2Ps at twenty meters both directions keyed to my pin at the foot of the shaft. The bugs show up, we’ll know it.”

“I’m out of pins, Staff.”

“And this is my last.”

“All right, hang on.” She flipped her mike. “Heer, drop a perimeter pin down the shaft.”

“You not sure you’re moving, Staff?”

“Just do it.”

Nearly out of 2Ps, nearly out of MDCs. If the shuttle
didn’t get there soon they’d be out everything but smart-ass remarks.

*   *   *

“The new thrusters are DK-7s, your old ones are sixes. The new ones are a fraction of a second more responsive. Try to remember that.”

Sibley sealed his flight suit and grinned up at Chief Graham. “It’s on my list and I’m checking it twice.”

“A fraction of a second means something at the speeds you’re traveling.”

“I know that, Chief.”

“I should be replacing
all
the sixes with sevens, but for some reason the FC wants to give you another chance to get your ass shot off.”

“Well, you know what they say, ass not what you can do for the Confederation.”

The chief sighed and folded his arms over a barrel chest. “No one says that, sir.”

“I just did.” Sibley slapped the hatch release and motioned Shylin ahead of him into the docking bay, continuing the gesture and turning it into a jaunty wave back at the chief.

“Try to bring your ride back in one piece this time,” Graham growled as the hatch closed.

Because if the Jades came back in one piece, so did the crews flying them.

*   *   *

“Think we can catch the squadron, Sib?”

His fingers danced over the thruster pad. “As easy as catching crabs on shore leave.”

“And thank you for that image.”

The rest of Black Star Squadron were nearly under the belly of the alien ship, having been sent to guard the air lock.

“Why would the Others destroy the air lock?” Shylin muttered, eyes locked on her tracking screens. “They want to use it, too.”

“Why did the Others invade in the first place? Why do the H’san and the Mictok keep getting themselves blown to rat-shit attempting a diplomatic end to the war? Why did I get that tattoo on my ass? Answer these and other skill testing questions, and you’ve solved the secrets of the universe.”

“Just how many of those stim sticks did you have?”

“Not enough. Looks like the rest of the team’s seeing some action up close and personal.”

An enemy squadron had joined the Black Stars outside the air lock. Maneuvering under the four-kilometer breadth of the ship, both sides tried for a clean target lock that would keep them from blowing up their own fighters.

“Sib! Unfriendly, starboard, four o’clock!”

“Got her. Moving to engage. She’s not reading us yet.”

“Target locked and…she’s firing!”

A pair of missiles streaked out from the enemy fighter.

“Taking evasive action!”

“She’s not firing at us.”

Both missiles raced toward the fight under Big Yellow.

And then she fired again and there were four.

“Fuk! She’s got as much chance of hitting her guys as ours! Can you get them?”

Each missile split into three smaller warheads.

“What, all
twelve
?”

“Black Group, this is
Black Seven
! Disengage! Incoming ordnance! Repeat, incoming ordnance! Bugs are firing into melee.”

“Black Seven,
this is
Black Leader.
Bugs can’t be firing into melee; they’ll hit their own people.”

“They don’t care, Skipper! You’ve got a dozen little bangers moving in fast. Get out of there, now!”

“Black Group, this is
Black Leader.
You heard the man! Move.”

“Must’ve looked out his fukking window,” Sibley muttered.

“Evasive action, Sib. This time she’s aiming at
us
!”

By the time they straightened out, most of the squadron had cleared out of the blast zone.

“Boom Boom! Disengage!”

“Don’t tell me, tell the bu…”

*   *   *

Something slammed into the hull and bounced. The double impact filled the passage with sound. The Katrien woke shrieking. Fingers slid under trigger guards as bennys rose looking for an enemy.

“What the fuk was that?” Werst demanded when the sound faded.

All eyes turned to Torin. “That was opportunity knocking.” She shoved the last empty coffee pouch into her pack. “You didn’t answer, so it’s buggered off to find someone who appreciates it.”

“Oh, I’ll fukkin’ appreciate it,” Werst growled.

“And would the universe end if you just told them you didn’t know?” Ryder asked under cover of the snickering.

Torin stared at him for a long moment. “Theirs would,” she said at last.

*   *   *

“We only lost one of the Jades, Captain.
Black Star Eight.
”

Captain Carveg sighed deeply and drummed her fingers against the edge of the screen. “Good thing Lieutenant Commander Sibley was where he was when he was.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And the enemy fighters?”

“One of the enemy fighters was destroyed with
Black Eight.
Another took damage but got clear.”

“So they can also thank Lieutenant Commander Sibley.” She looked down at her fingers as though she didn’t recognize them and forced them to still. “What did they think they were doing?”

Those of the C3 crew who could look up from their screens exchanged uncertain glances.

“Risking collateral damage to win,” a lieutenant commander offered when the continuing silence seemed to indicate it hadn’t been a rhetorical question.

“Win what?” the captain demanded. “They destroy some magic number of our fighters and get their engines back? Have they got information about Big Yellow that we don’t? This makes no
serley
sense!”

“This whole war makes no more sense than a H’san opera.”

Captain Carveg spun around in her chair and glared at the general. He was smiling, and she had to work very hard at not taking it personally. “Have you spoken to your people, sir?”

“No. I had an idea.” When he paused, the room paused with him. “The
Promise.
The CSO’s ship.” When no one seemed enthused, he continued more forcefully. “It’s using up one of your shuttle bays, I say we use it to get my Marines. Hell, we’ll use it to get Ryder, so he’ll certainly have no
grounds for complaint.” Brows drawing in, his smile faded as he took a closer look at her face. “What? You’ve got to have pilots left; how hard can it be to fly?”

“Flying it isn’t the problem, General.”
And thank you for that sensitive assessment of my flight crew.
“Craig Ryder’s got his ship locked down so tight we might not even be able to break the cipher to get the air lock open. And, if we could get in, preliminary investigation suggests we’ll blow the engines if we try to start them without his code.”

“You’ve had your people working on it.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but since he seemed to resent the preempting of his idea, and the last thing she needed on top of everything else was a sulky general, she said only, “Yes.”

“So have your ship override his system! Goddamn it, Captain, you’re sitting on a Confederation destroyer—use it!”

“Ignoring for the moment, General, that you do not give orders concerning my ship while on
my
ship, the
Promise
is not hooked up to the
Berganitan.
”

“Why the hell not?”

She spun her chair around to face him full on and got to her feet, the dais giving her enough height to look him in the eye. “Why the hell should it be? I certainly didn’t anticipate having to use it and, frankly, sir, if
you
did, I wish you’d told me back when it would have done some
serley
good!”

“Standard Operating Procedures…”

“Do not cover civilian ships in military shuttle bays because civilian ships aren’t permitted to use military shuttle bays.” She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “If there’s any way we can use the
Promise
—and my people are continuing to work on it—we will. I no more want to leave those Marines there than you do. And believe me, sir, it’s not because I give a fuk about what the Krai in Parliament will say about the loss of Captain Travik.”

“I believe you, Captain Carveg.”

Something had occurred to him. He couldn’t possible be looking so
serley
happy because she’d thrown in a
sir.

“And now, if your communications officer will see about raising Staff Sergeant Kerr, I’ll see what I can do about having her get those codes from Mr. Ryder.”

*   *   *

“Well?”

Ryder shook his head. “The air lock and the control panel both need a retina scan as well as the codes.”

“Yours?”

“No, my mother’s. I keep her left eye in a jar under my bunk. You know, you ought to bottle that look, you could sell it to weapons manufacturers.”

“Ryder.”

“Yeah, mine.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.”

“Your mother’s eye would be more useful,” Torin muttered, and passed the bad news on to General Morris.

*
We’ll keep working on it, Staff Sergeant. There has to be someone on this ship who can bypass a civilian security system.
*