The Better Part of Valor (10 page)

“No, sir. Squad Two challenged One to a boom ball game. I was going to watch.”

“Why?”

He’d mimicked her tone exactly. She didn’t bother hiding the smile. “You can learn a lot about people watching them play games, sir. Organized sports is like stylized warfare—only no one gets killed.”

The lieutenant snorted. “You’ve never played in my old neighborhood, Staff.”

He was standing a careful distance from the general, not so close he was crowding, close enough if he was needed. At best, half his attention was on the alien ship, the rest was on the general. He was still remarkably tight-assed—which was something Torin had never thought could be said about a di’Taykan—but he took his job seriously and did it well. Both were qualities she appreciated.

“I’ve never understood the Human attraction to the di’Taykan.” Torin began to stand, but Captain Carveg waved her back into her seat. “To the Krai, they’re too tall, too colorful, that pheromone thing is too annoying…” She rubbed a hand over her muzzle. “…and they’re far, far too skinny. We like a people with a little more meat on their bones. Just in case.”

Definitely, a way with words. “I’ll be starting my diet tomorrow, ma’am.”

Her smile showed no teeth. “I was glad to see you back on
board, Staff Sergeant. I feel like I owe you—and your people—an apology.”

“You were following orders, ma’am. Fortunes of war.”

“War is one thing,” she growled, “political expediency is something else again. I never heard exactly how things ended—I don’t suppose you can tell me—but I do know you were the general’s ace in the hole then and I suspect you’re here now because you’re his best bet at keeping Travik alive. Bottom line, the general’s only here—with all his hopes for promotion tied up once again in one mission—because he couldn’t trust Travik as senior officer. Now me, I run my ship and I don’t follow politics, but you wouldn’t believe the garbage I got sent when Captain Travik came on board. The Krai need to stick together and that sort of
serley
shit. A number of my people still think joining the Confederation wasn’t the best idea. Actually, a number of my people still think leaving the trees was a bad idea.” They turned together to watch the captain making a nuisance of himself with one of the Krai scientists. “And the good news is,” Captain Carveg observed dryly, “if those food wasters in Parliament insist on promoting the species, at least they won’t be taking a decent officer off the line.”

“I was thinking the same thing, ma’am.”

Carveg didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Thank you, Staff Sergeant. Now, I’d better get back before the general convinces my XO to stuff my ship up that thing’s bright yellow butt. I just wanted you to know that when you go in, I’m not going anywhere.” She waved off Torin’s thanks and headed back to the front of the room, pausing by Captain Travik to say a few words as she went. Torin would have loved to have known what those words were because they moved him back to Lieutenant Stedrin’s side PDQ.

Lieutenant Stedrin didn’t look very happy about it.

“G’day, Staff Sergeant. Is this seat taken?”

Torin glanced pointedly around at the empty seats between her and the clusters of people at the front of the room. Craig Ryder watched the motion, a smile creasing the corners of both eyes, and sat down anyway. She was pleased to see he had the brains to leave a seat between them.

“I wasn’t lurking around behind you or anything,” he said,
leaning back and making himself comfortable. “I was just waiting until you finished your conversation with the captain.”

Maybe if she ignored him, he’d stop talking.

No such luck.

“So, what are you doing way back here? No, wait, let me guess; General Morris told you to find yourself a seat where you could see everything and, for you, everything includes everyone. Am I right?”

“Does it matter?”

“Just wanted to prove I’m more than a pretty face, Staff Sergeant Kerr. Or can I call you Torin?”

She turned to face him. “You can call me Staff Sergeant Kerr. Or just Staff Sergeant if that’s too much for you.”

“The Marines call you Staff.”

“They’ve earned the right.”

“By doing a few simulations?” With exaggerated chagrin, he crossed both hands over his chest. “
I
did simulations.”

“They earned it the moment they put on this uniform.”

“Ouch.” After a moment, he added, “Is this where you hand me the three white feathers?”

“The what?”

“You know, for cowardice because I’m not a Marine.”

Torin sighed. “Mr. Ryder, you blind jump out of Susumi space in a vessel smaller than the average SRM. You secure potentially hazardous salvage in vacuum, with no backup, leaving you essentially screwed if something goes wrong. I do not think you’re a coward.”

He cocked his head and she could see a glint in the blue eyes. “You think I’m a scavenger who makes his living off the misfortune of people you call friends.”

“It’s like you were reading my mind, Mr. Ryder…”

“Call me Craig.”

“…but that doesn’t make you a coward.”

“Or a Marine.”

“What makes you think we’d have you?”

“Ouch again.”

“Lick your wounds a little quieter, please, they’re starting.”

“Are you smiling?”

She was. “No.”

“Okay.”

*   *   *

The two squadrons had set up in a grid pattern at one kilometer out. When the first flyby evoked no response from the ship, Captain Carveg had the flight commander bring Black Star Squadron in to five hundred meters while the Red Maces held their position.

“We might as well be circling a large yellow turd for all the notice it’s taking,” Sibley muttered, manually keeping his Jade an exact five hundred meters from every protrusion.

Shylin checked that the data stream was on its way back to the
Berganitan.
“Are we even sure this is a ship?”

“Scans say it’s hollow inside.”

“So’s your head, but that only makes you a vacuum jockey with bad taste in men.”

“Hey, did I know his family and yours have been feuding for generations? No.”

“Coming up on alleged air lock coordinates.”

“I’ve got it. Oy, mama.” He flipped his ship so they could get a look at it from another angle. “That alleged air lock looks just like an air lock. You copy, Command? We’ve got a docking collar and, eyeballing it from here, it looks like it’ll take a universal coupling.”

“We copy
, Black Star Seven.
Do you see anything that looks like external controls?”

“Negative. You think they left the key under the mat?”

“Could have. Find the mat.”

*   *   *

They found the rest of the air locks—one larger, one smaller, three the exact same size, now marked in blue on the screen in the briefing room. Opposite the single aft air lock, portside, they found a ripple in the hull of the ship. The scientists receiving the data were momentarily excited until a continuing scan showed the ripple otherwise identical to the rest of the hull. They found no fighter bays, no shuttle bays, and nothing they could identify as an exterior sensor array. Close up, the ship did have a number of protrusions that looked more extruded than built, and these were now marked in red. Readings at the dimpled end confirmed it was indeed part of some kind of a propulsion system, but until those readings could be analyzed, not even the propulsion engineers could tell what kind.

“You know, I’m not one to cast disparaging remarks about the vast sums spent on military equipment and training, but you guys haven’t found anything I didn’t find with my two rubber bands and a gerbil.”

That was just weird enough to merit a response. “What’s a gerbil?”

“Small rodent.”

“Okay. Two things: One…” Torin nodded toward the continuous stream of numbers rolling down one side the screen. “…they’ve barely started analyzing the incoming data. And two, those aren’t my guys, they’re Navy. You send in the Marines, you get an immediate response.”

“Someone tries to kill you.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“And good on that, since I’ll be going in with you.”

Torin twisted in her seat. “What if I promise not to touch anything—will you stay back with the science group then?”

“If you promise not to touch anything?”

“Yes.”

Smiling broadly, Ryder tucked his chin in and looked up at her through thick lashes. “No.”

“Very pretty. But it’s not going to get you anywhere.”

He blinked. Then laughed, loudly enough to turn a few heads. “Are you always this direct, Staff Sergeant?”

“No. Usually, I’m armed.”

“Am I in…”

Torin cut him off with a raised hand, her attention drawn back to the front of the room by the sudden agitated clumping of the Naval officers. Captain Carveg held a hurried conference with her flight commander who snapped a series of orders into her headset, one hand raised to cover the line of sight to her mouth.

Whatever it was, she didn’t want to panic any watching civilians—although as far as Torin could see, every scientist in the room but the Ciptran was involved in an argument of some kind. The big bug just sat holding his/her version of a slate in his/her hand, attention apparently divided between it and the screen—apparently because it was pretty much impossible for anyone to tell where any of his/her compound eyes were focused.

On the screen, six of the bright lights representing the
fighters peeled away from the ship and disappeared in a double wing formation off the edges of the screen.

Torin could feel Ryder watching her. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

“The ship’s sensors have picked something up. It’s nothing big, the flight commander only sent two wings and didn’t pull the others back in, but it hasn’t identified itself as a friendly or she wouldn’t have sent any at all.”

“Do you think it’s trouble?”

Captain Carveg was now speaking to General Morris.

“Always.”

The general turned to Lieutenant Stedrin who unhooked his slate from his belt.

*Staff Sergeant Kerr.*

From his slate to her implant. Whatever was going on, they wanted it kept quiet. She tongued in an acknowledgment.

*The general wants you to bring the Recon team up to combat readiness. You’re to slip out quietly and join them.*

So as not to panic the civilians.

She sent the affirmative, stood, and unhooked her own slate all in one smooth motion.

“What is it?” Ryder was standing as well, effectively blocking her way to the aisle. There’d be no trouble getting by him, but the result wouldn’t be considered slipping out quietly.

About to input Corporal Nivry’s code, Torin paused and adjusted her grip on the slate. “You’ll know when they decide to tell you,” she told him flatly. “I think you should get out of my way now.”

He studied her expression for a moment longer, then, with a grin, spread his hands in surrender—a gesture he seemed fond of, Torin noted—and turned sideways, leaving room for her to get by but not without close contact.

One long stride put her very close to his left shoulder, where she said, so softly he had to cant his head to hear, “I could kill you and not make a sound doing it. They’d find your body sitting in this seat, looking surprised and beyond revivification. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

For a big man, he could move quickly when he had to.

“Thank you.”

The grin was gone. “Staff Sergeant, I’m sorry I…”

“Attention
, Berganitan,
I are Presit a Tur durValintrisy of Sector Central News. I are needing immediate assistance!”

Captain Carveg looked like she was about to take a bite out of something, preferably Presit a Tur durValintrisy. “Sector Central News, this is Captain Carveg of the
Berganitan
, narrow your bandwidth! You’re jamming all ship’s frequencies!”

“I are saying again. I are needing immediate assistance. My ship are having difficulties upon exiting Susumi space!”

There was no mistaking Katrien syntax. The Katrien scientists seemed excited by the contact and more excited when the captain strode over to them. Actually, as far as Torin was concerned, the Katrien always seemed excited about something.

*Staff Sergeant Kerr, General Morris says that’s a negative on combat readiness. Stand down the team.*

Torin sent the lieutenant an affirmative and an expression that clearly asked,
It’s the media; are you sure?

After a moment’s exaggerated consideration, he nodded as a call code sounded from her slate.

Hitting audio only, she brought it up by her mouth.

“Staff Sergeant Kerr? What the hell was that?”

“That was exactly what it sounded like, Corporal Nivry. The media appears to have breached a class four security. When I know more, you’ll know more.”

“You think it was Captain Travik?”

The general certainly seemed to, although the captain appeared to be vehemently denying the possibility. Torin looked pointedly at Craig Ryder, standing barely an arm’s length away. “I think we have to consider all possibilities, Corporal. Find the best hacker on the team and have them go over the attachment’s security. I don’t want a further breach.”

“I’m on it, Staff.”

“You think I had something to do with this?”

Torin replaced the slate on her belt and, turning only her head, looked over at the salvage operator. “No. The more people who know about the ship, the better the odds someone’ll try to jump your claim—and you’re way too paranoid to let it slip.”

“But you said…”

“That we had to look into all possibilities.” She refocused her attention on the officers at the front of the room. “You are not the
only
possibility, Mr. Ryder.”

His sigh had force enough to move a strand of hair against her cheek. “And here I thought we were getting along.”

There wasn’t any point in responding to that.

He sighed again. “I shouldn’t have blocked your way, should I?”

“No.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I know.”