The Truth of Valor (44 page)

The Grr brothers ensured a relative circle of calm, but the brawl was a mindless beast reputation would not affect. If they fought their way to a hatch, and Torin had to assume they could or they were shit bodyguards, they’d leave Big Bill undefended. No one would go after him deliberately, but in the heat of the moment,
accidents
happened. The space around them suggested a couple of accidents had already tried to happen. Given the amount of blood on the deck, an orange-haired di’Taykan would not be getting up.

One of the brothers licked his fingers clean. The other swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Enjoying yourself, Gunnery Sergeant?”

Torin pulled her lips back over her teeth. “I was just heading out to find you. I’ve finished the designs for training facilities.”

“So quickly?”

“Yes, well . . .” She swept a disdainful glance over the crowd, noted that Mashona had worked her way out of the fight and stood watching, drink in hand, with a group from one of the bars, Werst was happily dancing around a di’Taykan and two Humans directly in front of the decompression hatch leading toward the ore docks, and . . . Torin frowned as a vaguely familiar Human male caught her gaze. His expression lifted the hair off the back of her neck—it was recognition on a macro scale. Not of her personally, but of what he thought she was. What. Not who. When she turned toward him, he disappeared behind a clump of di’Taykan. Trained instincts said
follow him,
but the situation required her to remain where she was. “If this lot is any indication,” she continued, the pause lost in the continuing chaos, “then the sooner they begin training the better.”

“No argument,” Big Bill sighed, arms folded. “Can you stop it?”

“It? This?” Good question. If they were Marines, or even Navy, then yes. She could stop the fight and temporarily stop a few hearts. No one made senior NCO without having learned to sound like a lifetime of authority figures all rolled into one—parents, teachers,
jernil
, bosses,
sheshan
. No problem being heard either as Torin would bet high that Big Bill could patch his slate into the Hub’s screens. Unfortunately, this lot was not predominantly military.

However . . .

“Fights like this have a limited duration.” Turning a gesture into a signal for Werst to break it off, Torin snorted. “With no actual goal . . .” She frowned. “I assume they’re not fighting
for
something?”

One of the Grr brothers snorted.

The other one said, “Never are. Fighting for shits and giggles. Scoring points. An opportunity for cheap revenge. More assholes than usual, that’s all.”

Sounded like a definitive sitrep to Torin. “If that’s the case, then it won’t last much longer.”

Areas of the Hub had already devolved to groaning and bleeding and, given the number of slates out among the spectators, payoffs had clearly begun. Without Werst’s involvement, the Human and one of the di’Taykan had slumped down to the deck in front of the hatch, looking miserable. The second di’Taykan continued to yell something about family honor and, possibly, ducks, but no one paid any attention.

Torin could see two dead—besides the di’Taykan the Grr brothers had killed. There might be more among the sprawled bodies, but those three she was certain of. She’d given the order to start the fight they’d died in. Not the first time . . . but the first time she didn’t give a H’san’s ass.

“I think it’s safe enough now for you to move on.” She turned so that Big Bill got her full attention. In order to stop him from heading to the ore docks, she had to become his primary focus. “Do we go to your office or the smelter to discuss these plans?”

“I was on my way to the ore docks.”

Past tense. She had him. “Success?”

He seemed amused by her oblique question. Not a problem. He could be amused by whatever the hell he wanted as long as he continued to focus on her. “No, not yet. But I thought it best, given the contents, to do what I could to remove foolish temptation.”

“Because that kind of content changes things, and Cho might screw you over if you’re not there when it opens?”

His brows rose. “I have every faith in Captain Cho to keep to our agreement.”

Torin kept her tone matter-of-fact. “He’s a thief and a murderer, and you assume he’s not a liar?”

“Harsh words, Gunnery Sergeant, I begin to think you don’t like Captain Cho.”

“Thief and murderer,” Torin repeated. “That’s his business, but given his business, having you and the contents together in one isolated place might be more temptation than he could resist.” Were she doing the job she signed on for, she’d be telling him exactly the same thing.

Big Bill indicated the two Krai, now looking speculatively at the closest body. “I won’t be alone.”

“You don’t allow weapons on the station, but that’s no guarantee Cho won’t have weapons on his ship. If he takes out the three of you, who’s left to go after him?”

“You?”

Torin shook her head. “I just got here. Cho won’t assume I’m a sure thing.”

“She’s right, Boss.”

Big Bill stared at the Grr brothers in surprise. “If you’re taking her side because she owns your souls, remember who owns your asses.”

“Not taking her side,” said one.

“But she’s right,” said the other.

“All right, you two go down to the ore docks. The gunnery sergeant and I will go to my office and look over her designs. Happy?”

Torin wouldn’t have called the expressions the Grr brothers exchanged
happy
.

Craig got slowly to his feet as the hatch from the station into the ore dock opened. With only a maximum of two hours and seven minutes remaining, he was expecting Torin. He got Doc.

“And the level of bugfuk crazy rises to code red,” he muttered, watching the other man cross toward the ship. No way he could have been heard, but Doc paused, glanced over at the storage pod, then changed direction.

When he got close enough, Craig realized he looked weirdly peaceful.

“How’s your foot?”

“The one you cut the toe off?” Craig couldn’t stop himself from glancing down. “It hurts like fuk, thanks for asking.”

“If fukking hurts, you’re doing it wrong,” Nadayki called from inside the pod.

“He sounds chipper.” Doc dropped into a squat and gently angled Craig’s foot so that he could see the wound.

“Yeah.” Craig fought the urge to pull his foot free and plant it in Doc’s face. “Apparently, the Marine Corps can kiss the kid’s lime-green ass; he owns their code.”

“Good for him,” Doc said absently as he examined the place Craig’s toe had been. “I don’t approve of you removing the dressing, but the seal’s holding. Edges look good.” Strong thumbs barely skimmed along Craig’s instep. “There’s a lot of bruising . . .”

“It’s not bruising, mate. My foot’s always been purple.” He frowned. “And green.”

“Well, I apologize for the inadvertent damage caused by my grip.”

“You what? You cut off my fukking toe and you’re apologizing for inadvertent damage?”

“I intended to cut off your toe—Captain’s orders. I didn’t intend to bruise the rest of your foot.” Setting Craig’s foot carefully back on the deck, Doc straightened, tucking a strand of hair back behind his ear. “If there’s time, I’ll replace the sealant.”

“If there’s time? You going somewhere?” It had to be Doc leaving; there was no point in replacing the sealant if they intended to dump him out an air lock. Craig had
seen
the condition Rogelio Page had been left in.

“I don’t know. Hope so.” His mouth twisted into something that didn’t exactly resemble a smile, and as he turned, he said quietly, “It’s funny.”

Craig couldn’t stop himself. “What is?”

For a moment, it seemed Doc wasn’t going to answer, then he stopped and shrugged, the
why the fuk not
almost audible. “It’s funny where you find the things you’ve lost. Always the last place you think to look.”

“Well, yeah. Because then you stop looking.”

Doc stiffened, pivoted on one heel, his pale blue eyes flashing a more familiar, crazy-ass expression in Craig’s direction. But all he said was, “Good point.”

Craig watched until the air lock door closed behind the other man and the telltales were red again, then he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay,” he muttered. “That was weird.”

“That was Doc. He’ll lovingly heal you so that you’re in good enough shape for him to beat to death.”

Leaning around the edge of the hatch, Craig found Nadayki kneeling in front of the seal to give his back a break. “You don’t even know what I was talking about.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The young di’Taykan twisted just far enough to sneer at Craig, his eyes light. “It’s Doc, so weird only ever means one thing; it’s the point where medic and maniac overlap. Either/or, that’s one thing, but both . . .” His hair flicked out. “Both at one time is too fukking weird. Too weird for fukking,” Nadayki added with a snort. “I don’t think he’s gotten laid since me and my
thytrins
joined the crew. That explains a lot.”

It would to a di’Taykan, that was for sure. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Nadayki flipped him a very Human gesture and bent back over the seal.

The sound of the hatch opening pulled Craig out of the storage pod. He didn’t recognize the two Krai swaggering across the ore dock toward him, but he’d definitely got the impression this area wasn’t open to all and sundry, so they had to be down here for a reason. Something about them pinged, but they were almost to the pod before he realized what it was.

Doc moved like danger, barely contained. Like he had nothing to prove.

These two moved like they were more than willing to prove how dangerous they were. Doc’s movements blown large.

Craig grinned. Torin would say it was like the difference between an NCO and an officer.

When they stopped in front of him, he realized that not all the mottling on their faces was natural. He resisted the need to touch the purpling on his own face and waited. They looked at him. They looked around. One of them went around him and looked into the storage pod while the other seemed to be deciding how he’d taste with a nice red sauce.

Then Thing Two called Thing One away from the pod, pointed at Craig, and said something in Krai. Craig knew the same Krai most non-Krai did—the profanity—and recognized none of what had just been said.

Or any part of the reply. Although he knew better than to generalize with other species, it sounded like Thing One disagreed.

Thing Two reiterated.

Thing One stared at Craig for a long moment, nose ridges opening and closing slowly, and said something that sounded very much like a solid maybe.

And then they both gave him a look that involved red sauce.

Fuk it.

“Can I help you, mate?”

“Big Bill sent us,” smirked one.

“To keep an eye on things,” sneered the other.

And apparently, that was all they felt had to be said.

Given the choke hold Big Bill had on the station, it probably was. Either the captain’s paranoia was justified and Big Bill was up to something, or Big Bill suspected Cho was up to something. At first glance, the second option seemed more likely if only because Craig knew Cho
was
up to something. Upon reflection, the first was just as likely if less absolute.

Honor among thieves was a myth.

Apparently satisfied that Nadayki was doing what he was supposed to, they wandered off to examine the head and the storage lockers. They snapped the sink down out of the bulkhead then back up again. They opened every door, every drawer, stared at the HE suits, turned to stare at Craig.

Craig leaned back against the pod. He didn’t have to explain. Captain Cho had ordered the suits out onto the dock. They could take it up with him if they didn’t like it.

Then Thing One, looking right at him, lifted the sleeve of one of the suits and bared his teeth. Thing Two laughed.
Wouldn’t it be funny if I took a bite out of this?

“Be funny if you fukking choked on it,” Craig muttered, then nearly jumped out of his skin as Nadayki closed a hand around his arm and leaned in close.

“Shut up, you ass. You don’t know who they are.”

Barely audible in spite of proximity, he sounded truly freaked, the ends of his hair tracing short, jerky arcs against Craig’s cheek. Craig bit back his initial reaction and said at the same volume, “So tell me.”

“The Grr brothers.”

“The Grr brothers? You’re shitting me, right?”

“I wish. If Big Bill wants somebody eaten, and not in a fun way, they’re the ones who do it.”

“Eaten?”

“Yeah.” Craig felt as much as heard Nadayki swallow. “And I heard they like it better if the food’s still screaming.”

“That’s . . . unpleasant.” And over the top. And, frankly, trying way too hard. Maybe they were scary to a station full of losers who couldn’t live within the broad parameters of the law, but Craig had seen Torin’s face when she’d learned the polynumerous plastic aliens were using war as a social laboratory, and these two, they didn’t know shit about being scary.

“Big Bill’s sent them down here to keep an eye on things. He must know I’m going to be done early.”