The Better Part of Valor (17 page)

But all he said was, “No, thanks.” He pulled a screwdriver out of a pouch on his belt. “I’ll use this.”

*   *   *

“What a fukking mess.” His upper body sandwiched between the top of the barrier and the ceiling, Werst waved a hand to clear the smoke from his face. “Primary damage is at the far end of the corridor but the entire area between the barrier and the air lock’s filled with rubble. I see no survivors, but I can smell blood.” His facial ridges spread slightly behind the translucent filter covering the lower part of his face. “Human, di’Taykan, Krai, Niln…everyone took damage. I’m going down.”

Feet holding a convenient piece of pipe, he dropped over the inside edge. “This side’s warmer, all right.”

“Hot enough to block the scanners from picking up a thermal signature?”

“Probably. Air temp reads 33.4°C, and the barrier’s warmer than that.” He grabbed a protruding corner, tested the stability, swung around, found another hold, swung again, and dropped to the floor. Facial ridges clamped shut, he froze, counted to ten, and slowly straightened, glancing down at his sleeve. “Nothing’s moving.”

“Sensors show nothing’s moving.”
Corporal Nivry’s correction was a quiet buzz in his ear.
“Sensors gave no warning of the explosion or of what happened to Staff Sergeant Kerr. Be careful.”

“Always.”

“And no snacking.”

“Up yours.”

Joining a multispecies military had forced the Krai to change their battlefield eating habits.

A soft thud and Orla crouched beside him. “I don’t care what Johnston says, Guimond’s never going to fit through there.”

“Not my problem. Go left.”

They found
Harveer
Niirantapajee and one of the Katrien
scientists alive but unconscious in a sheltered triangle made by their half-slagged piece of equipment and the mess kit.

*   *   *

“Clear to casualties, Corporal.”

Nivry nodded at Tsui and Dursinski who were carrying the patrol med kits. “Go.”

As they reached the top, she sent the next two then waved ahead the four Marines needed to move the scanners.

“We should leave the scanners,” Harrop murmured, watching Heer follow Jynett over the barrier at the wider of the two points. “We can come back and get them.”

Nivry shook her head. “No. If that air lock’s been blown, we’ll need them to find our way out of here. I don’t trust this place enough to leave gear where we can’t see it.”

“If that air lock’s been blown, we’re fukked.”

Neither corporal mentioned that the shuttle pilot would have contacted them by now had she been able to.

Harrop nodded at the barrier. “Command should be on the other side. I’ll watch the rear.”

The situation’s serious
, he thought as Nivry slid through the narrower point,
when that gets no comment from a di’Taykan.

Too bulky to be worn, the scanners were passed over the barrier from hand to hand, most of the weight on both sides held by the augmentation worn by Johnston and Heer. Once the scanners were safely on the deck, Guimond climbed to the same space, looked dubiously through it, then back at Harrop.

“Hey, Corporal, maybe we should widen this.”

“There’s a three-centimeter difference between you and that space, Guimond. Now move.”

Arms, head, shoulders…

Heer grabbed a double fistful of Guimond’s combats while Johnston shoved from behind.

“Son of a…”

Chest.

Most of his descent was headfirst, then he swung in Heer’s grip, and dropped.

Heads turned at the impact.

*   *   *

“Air lock’s gone. Although Heer’s still scanning it, looks like the shuttle went with it. There’s a six-by-four-meter hole in the wall likely caused by the
something
Staff Sergeant Kerr mentioned. We’ve got two casualties—both unconscious—one dead Katrien and a whole lot of body parts that may or may not add up to the other civilians. What we don’t have is either of our two missing personnel. Captain Travik wasn’t in vest and helmet, but both the captain and Staff Sergeant Kerr were in combats and we’ve found no trace of uniforms. We all know this,” Nivry’s gesture took in the destruction, “was not enough to obliterate…”

“Big word.”

“Shut up, Tsui. This…” She repeated the gesture. “…was not enough to obliterate two MCCUs. Have I missed anything?”

There was a negative response around the circle.

Nivry stared down at the one clear section of floor, her eyes so dark they’d lost almost all color. “So, considering one of Staff’s last transmissions said, and I quote,
’We’re being sucked into the goddamned floor!’
does anyone have any better ideas about where the staff and the captain are?”

No one did.

Nivry bounced a piece of wreckage off the area in question. Then stepped out onto it. And back. And took the time to breathe before saying, “Johnston, start scanning.”

“If they’re more than a meter and a half down, I’m not going to find them,” the engineer warned, squatting and setting the scanner facedown on the cleared bit. “We haven’t been able to go more than a meter and a half through any of these walls.”

“Good thing this is a floor.”

“But what happens if they’re more than a meter and a half down?” Dursinski demanded.

“We start digging. Johnston?”

“Give it time. It can’t interpret half the data coming back and that…Got it! Just over a meter of something solid—same organic metal combo that the walls are made of—then some open space, then two thermal sigs. Except they’re both Human. Captain Travik should be showing three to four degrees higher.”

“Maybe he’s wounded and his body temp has dropped.”

“No. These are Human—and look at that hot spot there, and there.” He tapped the display. “That’s a slate and that’s a helmet PCU. I’d say we’ve found the staff sergeant and one of the civilians but not Captain Travik.”

“No
serley
loss.”

“Werst.”

He snorted unapologetically.

“What now?” Johnston asked, straightening.

“We make contact.” Nivry stepped out beside the scanner. “Staff Sergeant Kerr, this is Corporal Nivry. Acknowledge.”

The only sound in the ruined corridor was the hum of the mess kit turning the remaining food into field rations and the hiss of
Harveer
Niirantapajee’s labored breathing.

After a moment, she stepped back. “I can’t get through to her slate either. Can we adapt the scanner to signal her?”

“Sure. I could hit her with a couple of different things, and if she’s running a scan protect, she’ll even know I’m doing it. Other than that…” Lifting his helmet, Johnston ran a hand back over his scalp. “We could probably burn through with the bennys.”

“It’d drain the lot of them,” Dursinski pointed out. “We’d be disarming ourselves. I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nivry told her dryly. “Given what happened the last time, we’re not putting holes in these walls.”

“How about a low-tech solution?”

Heads turned as Guimond slapped a metal bar into one palm.

“You’re going to try and beat your way through?” Johnston asked, eyebrows nearly at his hairline. “Through a meter of a substance the entire science team couldn’t get a scraping of?”

“No.” Flipping the bar around, he tapped it against the floor. Three short. Three long. Three short.

Over the ambient noise came the sound of realization dawning.

Werst shook his head. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”

*   *   *

“Do you hear something?”

One ear cocked toward the ceiling, Torin frowned. “Tapping.” They listened for a moment. Her frowned deepened. “It almost sounds like there’s a rhythm to it.” She snapped her slate off her vest.

Ryder snorted and began walking again, around and around the perimeter of their prison. “Vermin dancing in the pipes.”

“Unlikely.” Recording the ambient noise onto her slate, she boosted the gain and played it back.

“That was in the way of being a facetious observation.”

“I know. Shut up.”

Three short. Three short. Long short long.

“Son of a bitch…”

Her smile stopped Ryder in his tracks. “What?”

Smile broadening, Torin looked the civilian up and down. “You’re what? A little taller than one point eight meters?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a little shorter and I need to reach the ceiling.”

“We already threw stuff at it,” he protested. “It’s solid.”

“Yes, but we have a new situation.” Slipping the strap of her benny off her shoulder, she uncoupled the ends. Holding the lighter piece, she whipped the heavier up against the ceiling. The thud sounded loud in the cube, but it wasn’t enough to stop the pattern still tapping out of her slate. “Damn. They can’t hear it.”

Charging across to her, Ryder grabbed her shoulders and kept her from making a second attempt. “Who can’t hear us?” he demanded. “Who?”

“The Recon team banging s-s-k, Staff Sergeant Kerr, into the floor up above.”

“They’re tapping out letters?”

She had to admire a man who didn’t need a long explanation. “It’s Morse code.”

“They’ve found us?”

“Yes.”

“They can get us out!”

No room for doubt, in spite of explosions and alien technology. Marines didn’t leave their own behind. “Yes.” He still had hold of her shoulders. She shrugged to remind him.

“Okay.” Ryder took a deep breath, wiped his palms on his thighs, and started pacing again. “Okay,” he said again, a little more calmly. Then he frowned. “What’s Morse code?”

“A primitive communication system the anal retentives in the Corps have dragged through the last four centuries.”

“Why?”

Easy answer. “For situations like this. I need you to get down on your hands and knees.”

Ryder looked startled, then he grinned, blue eyes gleaming even brighter amidst the unrelieved gray. “What?”

“They can see us; that message is aimed at me. They’re probably scanning energy sigs with one of the engineering units. The PCU in my helmet has a noticeable signature.” While Ryder connected the dots she’d given him, Torin flipped up the microphone and took off her helmet. “If I hold it under your body, they can’t see it. When I bring it out again, they can.”

“Visual tapping.”

“If you like.”

*   *   *

“These vibrations aren’t doing the scanner any good,” Johnston grumbled as a sweating Guimond stopped pounding and the gathered Marines waited for a reply. “And we don’t know that she can hear us.”

Nivry glanced up from the scanner’s display and frowned at the engineer. “A few more minutes.”

“There’s a good meter between the top of the staff sergeant’s head and the ceiling. What’s she going to do to answer, stand on the civilian?”

The corporal ignored him. “Guimond try a…wait, something’s happening.”

Crouching, Johnston fiddled with the scan. “Looks like the thermal signals are joining.”

“Now we know who the civilian is,” someone snickered.

“Sig for the helmet PCU keeps disappearing and reappearing. There.” He pointed. “Now you see it, now you don’t.”

“She’s answering.”

“Well, if she isn’t, I’d like a closer look at what they
are
doing.”

*   *   *

The tapping changed.

“Sounds like they got your message.” Craig shifted his weight from one knee to the other and back and tried not to think about how ridiculous this had to look. “What’re they saying?”

“Give me a minute, Mr. Ryder, it comes through one letter at a time.”

The situation had clearly stabilized if she was Mr. Rydering him again. He had to hand it to the Marines, they had an interesting idea of a stable situation.

*   *   *

Air lock gob? No, gone
…Torin reminded herself to send an apology to the gunny who’d taught communications back on Ventris.
Who knew I’d ever actually need to use this crap?

When Ryder rose up onto his knees, she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He twisted out of her grip, the muscles across his back tight enough to march on.

“I need you for a few more minutes.” She slid the words between the letters being pounded out above.

“No, I’m done…”

Torin understood his desire to do something, to not sit by and wait passively for rescue. Unfortunately, his options were limited, and if he started pacing again, she was going to have to break both his legs. “I can’t do this without you,” she reminded him.

“I don’t…”

The tapping stopped.

Protest cut short, he looked up at the ceiling, then back at her, one corner of his mouth curling up. “Well?”

“Air lock’s gone and the shuttle with it. And they’ve lost Captain Travik.”

“Nice to get some good news with the bad.” He stared down at his hands resting on his thighs and, exhaling with some violence, abruptly dropped forward. “What are you going to tell them?”

Torin forced herself to concentrate as he arched his back. “To look for another clean bit of floor.”

*   *   *

“Found it.”

Marines and the second scanner converged.

After a moment, Harrop straightened. “Nivry, ditch the small talk and tell the staff sergeant we’ve found Captain Travik and what could be another civilian.”

“Could be?”

“Heer’s reading five small separate sigs beside him.”

*   *   *

“Four meters on the other side of that wall?”

Torin rocked back on her heels and stood. “That’s what they tell me.”

“On, that’s just fukking great!” Ryder surged to his feet. “He might as well be four fukking kilometers away.” He threw up his arms and spun around. “There’s no way we can get to him. There’s no way he can get to us. And even if your people up top had cutting tools, they couldn’t get to us, so…” A thick finger jabbed toward Torin. “…don’t bullshit me that they can because structural components around here don’t seem to want…” He shouted a word at each wall. “To. Be. Fukked. With.”

Settling her helmet back on her head, Torin walked forward. An arm’s length from the wall, she paused and shouted.

By the time the noise faded, Ryder was at her side, arms folded. “What did you do that for?”