The Better Part of Valor (15 page)

“A coffee?”

“Nothing like a little caffeine to put the day in perspective.”

Maybe he wasn’t so bad. “Thank you.”

He fell into step beside her as she crossed the section of corridor the Marines had claimed as their own. “I notice you didn’t disagree with me—about the shooting.”

“You brought me a coffee. I’m not totally unreasonable.”

“Good.” Ryder dropped his voice to a low purr as they drew closer to other ears. “In case you’re curious, the captain has made a preliminary report to the general saying that the Recon team has found this section of the ship deserted but that he’ll be sending two patrols out beyond the established perimeter as soon as everyone’s eaten.”

“A civilian has no business listening to a military…” And then she realized and sighed. “He said it on vid, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And the general’s reply?”

“Came through loud and clear. ‘Good work, Captain. Carry on.’ I expect Presit will do a couple of cutaways with the general later. She’s really very good at her job. You should give her a break.”

“Oh, I should break something,” Torin muttered under her breath. Fortunately a screaming match between the two Katrien scientists had drawn the news team away, leaving the captain standing by the mess kit, sucking down coffee and looking bereft.

“Everything all right, sir?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he demanded, ridges flushing.

“No reason. You looked…”

“I looked like this is a colossal waste of my time, Staff Sergeant.” He flapped his half-empty pouch toward half a dozen scientists sitting and staring at monitors. “That lot’s accomplishing nothing much, and if the scans we took are right…”

“They are.” Although Torin had no idea where the “we” came from.

“…then this place is going to be
serley
boring to explore.” Finishing his coffee, he stuffed the pouch in the kit’s recycler and pulled another. “I’m going to make major after this trip and, oh, aren’t kilometers of gray corridor going to look exciting on the vids. It’s not fair.”

Okay, we’ve reached today’s limit.
“Don’t whine, sir, it’s unattractive in an officer.”

Nose ridges moving through red to purple, Travik glared up at her, coffee pouch dangling from one corner of his mouth. “What?”

“Sets a bad example for the enlisted personnel. They’re looking to you for leadership, sir.” It took an effort but she managed close her teeth before adding,
not that I should have to tell you that.

“General Morris will hear about that insubordinate comment, Staff Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

Travik stomped away, jerked his slate up off his vest, and turned his back before he began talking. From the angle of the bristles on the back of his head, he was seething. From inside the ship, contact with the
Berganitan
was patchy at best, so all communications were routed through the shuttle’s system; Lieutenant Czerneda monitoring in case anything else attempted to make contact. Right about now, she was getting an earful.

“Was that wise?” Ryder asked. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but he seems like he could be an officious little prick.”

Torin shrugged. “You’re right. It’s none of your business.”

“Looking on the bright side, you seem to have cured his boredom.”

“All part of the job.” Bending, she slid a tray out of the section marked with a big red H. Unlike field rations, designed to satisfy the nutritional requirements of all three military species, the mess kit’s prepared meals were species specific. “I assume we’re feeding you?”

“I tried to get my mom to pack me some sandwiches, but…thank you.” He took the tray out of her hands and peered through the clear cover. “Mystery meat and vegetables in a pita. Cup of soup—best not to look too closely at the puree. Pouch of juice and a pudding cup. All maintained at their intended temperature provided their intended temperature is lukewarm.”

Torin snorted. “You sure you’ve never been a Marine?”

“I picked up a surplus mess kit a couple of years ago,” he explained, dropping down to the floor beside her. “I can load it at any station and this stuff’ll last indefinitely as long as it’s sealed.”

“Just one of the differences between us,” Torin noted, toasting him with her soup. “You pay to eat like this, I get paid to do it.”

*   *   *

“Looks like Staff Sergeant Kerr and the civilian are getting along,” Orla murmured speculatively, eyes darkening as she leaned past the Marine next to her in order to get an unimpeded look.

“Who else is she going to hang with?” Tsui asked. “If she hangs with us, we feel like we’re being watched all the time, and I doubt she wants to hang with Captain Asshole. Besides, Ryder’s okay, as long as you don’t play cards with the son of a bitch.” He poked a finger into his pudding, and the reaction by the di’Taykan took the conversation into a biologically unlikely direction.

*   *   *

*STAFF SERGEANT KERR.*

The bounce from the shuttle threatened to overwhelm her implant. Torin adjusted the volume then tongued in an acknowledgment.

*You’re pissing Travik off on purpose. Stop it. I don’t want to hear any more complaints from him for the duration. Is that clear?*

“Yes, sir.” Not much point in subvocalizing since she
didn’t intend to say anything that couldn’t be overheard. She glanced up at the captain. From his smug expression, he’d been expecting the general to contact her. “Sorry, sir.”

*Any problems?*

“No, sir.”

*Good. Keep it that way and keep him alive. Morris out.*

“Talking to yourself?” Ryder wondered, glancing from her to the captain and back again.

Corps business was none of his.

“Sometimes it’s the only way to have an intelligent conversation,” Torin told him.

*   *   *

“Corporal Harrop.”

“Staff?”

“Take three Marines and relieve Nivry. I’ll call you in as soon they finish eating. Captain wants to send out the entire team in two patrols.”

“If we’re coming back in so soon, why are we even going out?”

“You’re going out because I told you to go out.”

“But…”

“And in a minute you’ll be cleaning out the recycler in the latrine because I told you to.”

“Orla, Jynett, Dursinski, you’re with me.”

*   *   *

“This are Presit a Tur durValintrisy for Sector Central News reporting from a corridor inside a ship belonging to no Confederation species. With me are
Harveer
Niirantapajee, head of the Xeno-engineering department at Jinaffatinnic University on the Niln home world of Ciir.
Harveer
Niirantapajee, please tell our audience what you are discovered about this alien ship.”

“Bugger all,” the elderly engineer grunted, her nictitating membranes flicking across the golden orbs of her eyes.

Presit’s smile tightened. “Could you elaborate?”

“We got in okay. Having established a door, there is, after all, a limited number of ways you can get a door to open. Once in, nothing. Scans show there’s working parts in the walls but we can’t get to them. We can’t find panels, we can’t make a hole. We can’t even get a really good picture. The only
thing we’re fairly certain of is that the ship is at least partially constructed of PHA—polyhydroxide alcoholydes.”

“Which are?”

“Essentially organic plastic. Certain bacteria use PHA to store energy much the way mammals use fat.”

“So, you are saying bacteria are building this ship?”

“No. I’m not.”

Her tone moved the reporter on. “Are you being discouraged,
Harveer
?”

The membrane flicked across her eyes again. “As you said, the ship belongs to no Confederation species. It doesn’t belong to the Alliance…”

“The Alliance, that are being our allies, the methane breathers.”

“Right. Given that and given that we’ve only been working at it…” Her tongue touched a spot on the shoulder of her overalls. “…a little under two hours, don’t you think it’s early yet to be discouraged? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to beating my tail against this
scrisin
wall.”

*   *   *

“Captain Travik, we’re ready to send out the patrols.”

“Well?”

“Well, what, sir?”

“Well, send out the patrols, Staff Sergeant. Do I have to do everything?”

“No, sir.”

*   *   *

“Corporal Nivry, you’ll take your patrol to perimeter point six. Harrop, to perimeter point five. You’ll be running parallel to each other and pretty much parallel to the hull. Logically, there should be compartments of some kind between you, so both teams will run deep scans on the walls every three meters. Don’t let your guard down.”

“Uh, Staff, what are we guarding against?” Tsui asked, his smile a millimeter from mocking.

“Right now?” Her smile flattened his. “Me. Tomorrow, we’ll see how much corridor we can map and still make it back before the shuttle leaves. Today, we’ll concentrate on protecting our specialists while they pull data for the science team.”

*   *   *

“Hey, Johnston.” Tsui poked Squad One’s other lance corporal in the thigh with the butt of his benny. “You wish you were still back with the eggheads instead of getting ready to hump that thing through never-never land?”

The engineer snorted and flexed the exoskeleton supporting most of the scanner’s weight. “Oh, yeah, I’d much rather be listening to a pair of frustrated Katrien argue about solitons. Sounds like a fukking cat fight.”

*   *   *

Arms folded—which had to be a human posture he’d adopted as Torin had never seen another Krai use it—Captain Travik exposed most of his teeth. “You don’t make plans about future assignments without consulting your commanding officer.”

“General Morris made it clear he wasn’t to be bothered, sir.”

“I was referring to
myself
.”

“Yes, sir. When I spoke of tomorrow’s plans, I was referring to the boarding plan you downloaded and approved on the
Berganitan
.” Torin brought up the file and read from her slate. “Day one, secure the area and, should no hostiles be encountered, support the science team. Day two, should no hostiles be encountered, map as much of the ship’s interior as possible. Day three…”

“I want you to consult with me before you implement!”

“Yes, sir.” Hooking her slate back on her vest, Torin calmly met the captain’s apoplectic gaze. “Tomorrow—before I implement tomorrow’s plan—I will consult with you.”

Travik stood there for a long moment, as the blood gradually drained from his facial ridges. “Good,” he said at last. Then he spun on one heel and strode purposefully away.

“You’re armed,” noted a quiet voice at Torin’s shoulder. “How do you keep from killing him?”

She watched the captain head straight for the news team. “Captain Travik is the officer commanding, Mr. Ryder. Marines are not in the habit of killing their officers.”

“Okay.”

“It’s an acquired skill.”

“Mind if I ask you a question?”

“I don’t seem to be able to stop you.”

“Why the helmet? We’re not under fire.”

“Among other things, my helmet contains a PCU—personal communications unit. I use it to maintain contact with the patrols.”

“But doesn’t the whole unit snap out so you can just shove it in one ear? I’m not saying the helmet doesn’t look good on you.” He met her frown with a grin. “I just wondered why. Does it give a feeling of security?”

Torin’s tone would have told even a raw recruit that the conversation was over. “I don’t like things shoved in my ears, Mr. Ryder.”

“Okay.”

Unfortunately, Craig Ryder was not a Marine. “Stop saying that.”

“Why?”

Also unfortunately,
because I said so
, wasn’t good enough for a civilian.
More’s the pity.
Before Torin could come up with a suitable reply, a sudden shout from Dr. Hodges froze everyone in place and a moment brought most of the other scientists running to his workstation just inside the air lock.
Harveer
Niirantapajee and both Katriens, who were working closest to the Marines, glanced up from their equipment but continued working.

“I’m too old to go scampering off every time his analyzer farts,” she muttered in answer to Torin’s silent question. “And these two won’t leave me alone with their pretty new toy. But don’t let us stop you from joining the fun.”

“Fun,” Ryder repeated, matching his stride to Torin’s. “Fun would be blowing through the walls with explosives.”

She considered discouraging him from dogging her footsteps, but since there wasn’t anywhere else for him to go…“The di’Taykan are planning that for later.”

“That’s because the di’Taykan know how to have fun.”

They reached the edge of the group a moment later to see Captain Travik installed at Dr. Hodges’ elbow looking as though he were personally responsible for any successes. Cirvan had climbed up onto a crate trying to get more in his shot than the elbows of the taller species, and Presit was asking questions of the scientist—who ignored her as he dealt with the incoming data.

“What’s he actually doing?” Ryder asked, sidestepping a stack of packing crates to get a better look.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Torin pulled her helmet forward and flipped the microphone down. “Nivry, Harrop, hold up. Something’s happening here.”

“You want us to head back?”

Torin glanced at the display on her slate. Both patrols were in the corridor designated NS2, separate but still in sight of each other. “No. Wait there until we know what’s actually going on.”

“Roger, Staff. We’ll wait.”

Straightening, Dr. Hodges thrust both hands over his head in triumph. “I have the numbers!”

“And that means?” Torin muttered.

“Seems to mean something to them.” Ryder nodded toward the excited scientists. There was hurried movement away from the younger Niln’s uplifted tail.

Waving off questions, Dr. Hodges aimed two beams of blue light at the wall, then caught up a strip similar to the one he’d used on the air lock door and rushed around his apparatus, accepting congratulatory pats from his colleagues as he ducked between the beams.