The Heart of Valour (42 page)

Fortunately, Platoon 71 didn’t know that and had accepted her Sitrep at face value.

Alien. Amputation. All clear.

Torin dropped to one knee beside Major Svensson’s bedroll and frowned at the stump of his arm. The sealant was semipermeable—if the alien wanted out, she had a strong feeling that the sealant wouldn’t be able to keep it in.

“Gunny…”

“Major.” She turned her attention from the stump to his face. He still looked like shit and didn’t smell much better. Because the room couldn’t have fallen more silent if someone had flipped a switch, she could hear the rough rasp of breath moving slow and shallow through his mouth.

Peering up at her through a sedative haze, he managed to pull his brows into the approximation of a frown. “You had my arm cut off.”

“The artificial bone turned out to be an alien life-form, sir. Just dealing with a foothold situation.”

“Just?” It might have been a snicker, it might have been a cough. She lifted his canteen to his mouth, and he drank gratefully. When he finished, and she tried to move the canteen away, the fingers of his right hand closed loosely around her wrist. “The headaches and the memory lapses? The alien?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did I…?”

She thought about deliberately misunderstanding but only for a moment. “No, sir. The alien did.”

“In my body.”

Torin snorted. “At the risk of sounding overtly di’Taykan, Major, you’re not responsible for the actions or reactions of another species while it’s in your body.”

That time, definitely a snicker. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

She glanced at the body bag and decided not to mention the exodus happening under his skin. “You may this time, sir.”

* * *

“You cut off the major’s arm. With
my
ax.”

Only Kichar’s emotional emphasis on the second statement kept Hisht from flinching. He peered through his scope, swept his sector for drones and said, “It is a good ax. Sharp. I was impressed by the edge.”

She leaned out just enough to see him around Bonninski. “Thank you. I take care of my tools.”

“It shows.”

“Well, there’s no point in carrying something if it’s not in the best condition possible. And you,” she added to Sakur, “you said I’d never use it.”

“You didn’t use it,” Sakur snorted, eyes pale in the glare off the snow. “Hisht did. Obviously, the best man for the job.”

“Still, if Gunnery Sergeant Kerr had counted on the contents of your pack, she’d have had to gnaw the major’s arm off.”

“No,” Hisht sighed, his mouth flooding with saliva at the thought, “I’d have done that, too.”

The snowball slammed into his torso, nearly knocking him over. The drones took a couple of shots at the movement, one/one sent a few rounds back at the drones, and when silence fell again, Bonninski muttered, “Let’s not talk about eating people. That’s just gross.”

“Eating officers,” Kichar corrected.

“Grosser,” the other woman snorted.

“What happened to the arm?” Sakur wondered.

Hisht shrugged. He thought he was getting better at it. “Sergeant Jiir told me not to eat it.”

The second snowball missed.

* * *

“High Tekamal Louden…” The major had clearly not expected Craig to be in the room with the commandant. She slid to an undignified halt and dramatically lowered her voice. “…we have a situation.”

“Go ahead.”

She glanced at Craig, who smiled and waved. Mostly just to see that vein pop on the major’s forehead. “Commandant, it’s…”

“If it’s about the alien,” Louden snorted, “then speak up. As Mr. Ryder had to tell us it was here, I don’t think we’re in any position to keep secrets about it from him, do you?”

“No, sir.” Although she clearly did. “The plaque that was in General Morris’ office? It’s…” A deep breath and a visible girding of metaphorical loins. “It’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared.”

It wasn’t a question, but the major answered it anyway. “Yes, sir.”

“How?”

“Probably broke into its component molecular parts, skittered away, and re-formed into a couple of dozen new and exciting things a few seconds later.” As both the major and the commandant turned icy gazes in his direction, Craig shrugged. “Just a guess.”

“High Tekamal Louden, we…” The colonel came to a halt just inside the door, his expression as identical to the major’s as differing physiognomies could make it.

“We have a situation?” the commandant suggested. “What is it, Colonel?”

“Some of those who have the marker indicating they’d been tampered with… they’ve sent coded messages into space.”

“Break the code.”

“We’re working on it, sir.”

“And track the messages.”

“We can’t, sir. They were sent into
space.
No actual coordinates.”

“That’s going to complicate the search.” Three pairs of cold eyes this time. Craig shrugged again. “Space is big.”

After a moment, Louden nodded. “He’s right.”

The major made a sound that could have been a protest. The colonel, with a few more years’ experience, managed to remain both silent and expressionless.

“If we’re going to stand even a chance of finding all the pieces of that escape pod,” Louden continued, “we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

* * *

“Gunny!”

Torin straightened, held McGuinty at the door with a raised hand, and crossed the common room to his side.

Nearly bouncing in place, he started talking as soon as she was close enough. “I’ve isolated the code Major Svensson used to access the satellites, and I think I can figure out how to patch it through your implant…”

“You think?”

“It’s a little funky.” He tapped the screen. “I wouldn’t have recognized it, but the major had the actual ObSat codes in a separate file, and I recognized the sequencing. I can’t do it the way he did it—the way the alien did it—I don’t think that way because you know, it’s alien, but it’s also sort of Marine codes like I thought at the beginning, so I’m pretty sure I can work something out.”

“You don’t need to tell me that you’re working, McGuinty. I know you are.” Years of practice kept her from patting him on the head. “Just let me know when you’ve got something.”

“I’ve got something. Okay, I
found
something, Gunny. On his slate.” He waved it.

Torin snorted. “If you found the major’s porn, McGuinty, I don’t need to know about it.”

“He has porn?” Thin cheeks flushed. “I mean, no. I didn’t. I found messages that weren’t going to the Obsats, they were just going out into space.”

“Missing the ObSat?”

“Well, yeah, but on purpose. There was no destination; he was just jacking them off.” Torin had never actually seen anyone turn that red, that fast. “Uh…”

Another time she might have let him muddle through an explanation, but his skills had a good chance of saving their collective butts, so she took pity. “It’s all right, McGuinty. I understand the reference.” A sudden spat of weapons fire from the south wall while she considered the new information. “Okay, wrap the messages and everything to do with them as securely as you can and transfer them to your slate and Piroj’s.” Storing them in a couple of other places might ensure they actually got back to the geeks at Command. “Concentrate on putting together that uplink. Once we shut this shit down, we can concentrate on the less-than-immediate danger.”

“How?” He stared up at her like she’d have an answer.

Having the answers were part of her job.

She grinned. “If I told you, I’d ruin the surprise. Backups, upload, then the fun stuff.”

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant.” He half turned, then turned back again. “Is it okay if I work on the roof? It’s just easier if I’m already up there if another flier gets spotted.”

“Do I look like your mother, McGuinty?”

“Uh…”

Suddenly suspecting she might, Torin cut him off. “Do your job and don’t get shot. I don’t give a H’san’s ass about where you do either. Got that?”

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant!”

She hid a smile as he started toward the stairs and then remembered something. “Hey, McGuinty, I thought you worked better with a ceiling.”

“Kind of smells in here, Gunny.”

After only three days? It was a good thing for McGuinty’s station-born sensibilities they weren’t going to be there for the full two tendays, then. Torin had heard of station-born Marines who, with adrenaline fading, had passed out from the combined odors in the retrieval VTA. Possibly apocryphal, but even with wastes sealed into empty food pouches and stored in the useless latrines, the anchor was beginning to hum a bit.

“Gunny?”

“Sir.”

Nothing like thirty-six unwashed Marines to make a place smell like home,
she thought returning to Major Svensson’s side.

He closed his eyes when she told him of McGuinty’s discovery. “What have I done?”

“Not a damned thing, sir.”

“You think the Corps is going to see it that way, Gunny?”

“Yes, sir.”

Opening his eyes, he fought the painkillers to focus on her face. “Why?”

“We have the alien, sir.”

“And we have my scans identifying it as an alien consciousness within your body.” Dr. Sloan crouched at Torin’s left. “Privates Bynum and Stevens want to know when they can return to duty.”

Major Svensson dropped his head to the right and frowned through the shadows at the young Marines, both of them standing with one arm held immobile by their combats and strapped up against their chests. “He has a broken arm, and she got shot in the arm.”

“That’s right.”

“Broken arm. Shot in the arm.” A small wave of the stump. “There’s some kind of smart-ass comparison kind of remark to make about that, but I just can’t get hold of it right now. Remind me to try again later, Gunny.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell Bynum and Stevens that the Corps has a policy on letting Marines doped up on painkillers fire live rounds.”

“Yes, sir.”

“As a general rule,” he added sotto voce to the doctor, “we try to discourage it.”

“I’d be happier to hear that if it didn’t imply it occasionally happens anyway.” Reaching for her slate, Dr. Sloan bent over the stump. “They’re starting to pile up at the edge of the… at the edge. Pile up being a relative statement, of course, given their size.”

“The aliens remaining in your body appear to be trying to leave,” Torin explained to the major.

“If they make it out, don’t let them get away.”

Torin wasn’t entirely certain how she was supposed to stop a molecular-sized, shape-shifting alien but something would probably come up. “Yes, sir.”

Sitting back on her heels, Dr. Sloan ran a hand up through her hair. Something about her looked…
off
, although Torin couldn’t pinpoint what. “Look, Staff Sergeant Beyhn is stable, my other two patients are sulking, and you two would probably be happier if I was elsewhere, so you could discuss this, fighting person to fighting person. As I’m an accommodating person just generally, I’m heading up to the roof for some air.”

“You don’t have to go, Doc…”

“I won’t be gone long, but I need to…”A quick wave at the sealed wall of windows. “…look at the sky for a moment or two. I promise I’ll stay out of everyone’s way. And besides, you’d have to wrestle me to the floor and clap me in irons to stop me.”

“Got irons, Gunny?”

“Not on me, sir.”

“Guess we can’t stop you, then, Doc.” His eyes tracked her as she stood and Torin was reminded again of how long he’d been under the care of the medical profession. For a man who’d been as severely wounded as he had, Doctor Sloan’s presence probably helped him feel secure now he was wounded again.

“McGuinty seems to think things are getting a bit whiff,” Torin offered as the doctor disappeared up the hall.

The major made a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh. “This? We’re here for another five days until the
NirWentry
returns. His delicate sensibilities are in for a shock.” His mouth twisted as he stared at his stump. “Did we have fighting person talking to do, Gunny?”

“I was thinking that after McGuinty gets the upload specs worked out, and we shut the drones down, he can cannibalize the desk and try to give the alien a voice. We can find out where…”

There was a small gray square on the center of the stump.

“Gunny?”

She bent forward, gently slipped a fingernail behind it, and pulled it free. A small line of gray plastic came with it, but whether it was going into the major’s arm or coming out, she had no idea. As the square elongated and curled around her finger, stroking it in a way that almost seemed content, she realized what it was.

Doctor Sloan’s noncombatant chip.

The
something
that had looked off.

* * *

The sky looked close enough to touch. The clear, cold blue of the morning had become pale gray clouds hanging over the settlement promising more snow. The way Stone saw it, more snow was a good thing. The drones weren’t infinitely adaptable, so eventually they had to bog down. He checked his snowman, fired back at the drone that had exposed itself to fire at him, rolled back up onto his feet, and realized his scanner had gone hinky.

He turned, saw McGuinty fiddling with something by the access hatch. Wondered if he’d screwed up his jamming thing. Saw Dr. Sloan emerge, blinking in the thin light. Saw her speak to McGuinty and laugh… and fuk, McGuinty wasn’t much taller than the doc. Heard a whistle off over the settlement.

Turned.

Frowned at a point of darkness against the pale gray.

Watched it grow.

Realized what it had to be about the same time he realized his scanner wasn’t working. At all.

“Incoming!”

Torin started up the stairs three at a time. “Sergeant Jiir!”

“Gunny?”

“Get Dr. Sloan off the roof!”

* * *

McGuinty heard Stone yell. Took a moment to save the final bit of code. Looked up. Saw the flier, three-dimensional against a two-dimensional sky. Had to be an optical illusion that it was heading right for him. He snapped the major’s slate onto his vest and yanked off his own, fumbling the amplifier into place.