The Better Part of Valour

by Tanya Huff

  Oblivious to any potential danger. Dr. Hodges carried his sensor band to the inner door. “We’re making history, Harveer.”

  He was also making himself an obvious target, but that wasn’t Torin’s problem. She moved the squad forward as first the shuttle’s and then the ship’s outer door cycled closed. They were now inside the alien air lock. It was also yellow.

  “Don’t touch the walls, people. Defense systems could be on a contact trigger.”

  “Amazing,” Dr. Hodges murmured, crouched over almost familiar controls set into the floor. “Equalizing pressure.”

  Torin thought she could feel the slight purr of working machinery through her soles.

  The inner door of the alien ship opened as easily as the outer.

  “They knew we were coming, so they baked a cake,” Johnston muttered.

  There was a general consensus in the following silence. Frozen in place, they stared into a dull gray corridor approximately three meters wide. The light levels were low but bright enough, Torin decided, not to have them switch on lights. Frii was on point and di’Taykans could adjust their vision to handle anything but total darkness.

  Benny ready, Torin motioned for Corporal Nivry to grab the doctor—who’d made a try for the interior. She counted to ten, slowly, then checked the microfiber readout in her left sleeve. “Johnston, get your arm over here.”

  The engineer’s readout was identical.

  The atmosphere in the alien ship seemed to be exactly the same mix as the atmosphere in the shuttle had been. The temperature was off by point four of a degree, but that appeared to be correcting itself as they watched.

  “What do you think, Staff?”

  The corridor was empty.

  “Scanners?”

  “Readings show more empty corridors, Staff. No movement. No life signs.”

  “I think,” Torin sighed, straightening, “that this is remarkably anticlimactic.”

  SIX

  When it became clear the shuttle was in no immediate danger, Torin sent a protesting Dr. Hodges back to his colleagues and brought the other squad into the ship, splitting the entire team into pairs. Even numbers stood with weapon ready. Odds dropped to one knee, giving the evens a clear shot as they followed the scans downloaded from Torin’s slate to theirs.

  “All right, people, we’re going to set up perimeters here,” Torin tapped her screen, “here, here, here, here, and here.” The points indicated flared green. “And just because our scanners have picked up nothing but empty doesn’t mean we... what the hell are you doing?”

  Helmet hanging down his back, Ryder scratched at his beard with both hands. “Air’s breathable, I didn’t see any reason to stay sealed.”

  “The air may be breathable here, but we don’t know what’s around the next corner.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not going around the next corner, am I?” When she continued to scowl, he sighed. “Look, Staff Sergeant, someone had to be first. You do consider me expendable, don’t you?”

  “I don’t consider anyone expendable,” she snapped, “but you’re as close as I’ve come in a while.”

  “Staff, should we...?”

  “No. We stay sealed until this area is secure.”

  * * *

  “Is this great or what?” Guimond asked, staring down another hundred meters of gray and empty corridor identical to the hundred meters of gray and empty corridor just in from the air lock. “My whole battalion’s been on station duty for two months now and I was so bored I almost requested a transfer to a sector where the Others were on the offensive.” He glanced down at Werst, who was deploying a perimeter guard. “Good thing I didn’t, eh? I’d have hated to miss this.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Werst grunted, securing the guard to the deck. “It’s a thrill.” He adjusted the sensors to take in the full width of the corridor, then activated them. If anything turned on, if anything changed, if anything moved—they’d know about it.

  “What do you think? The crew’s abandoned ship or they’re hiding deep, waiting to see what we’re going to do?”

  “What crew?”

  “Well, come on,” Guimond swept the point of his benny from side to side, “you don’t build these kind of halls in a drone, it’d be a waste of space.” He switched back to group channel. “Staff, this is Guimond. Ready to test.”

  “Roger, Guimond. Test on my mark. Three, two, one, mark.”

  A small capsule tossed out in front of the guard hit the deck and shattered.

  The area covered by the guard’s sensors shimmered briefly blue and, had both Marines not been suited up, they’d have caught the faint smell of ozone.

  “Guimond, this is Staff Sergeant Kerr. Perimeter test registered as capsule four; nitrogen and a nine-volt pulse.”

  “Roger, Staff. Perimeter point is secure.”

  “Head on back to the lock. Keep your eyes open.”

  “Roger, Staff. Guimond out. Not that there’s anything much to see,” he added, switching off as another pair began their test. “No doors. No panels. No light fixtures. Still, can’t complain.”

  “You can’t?” Werst checked the settings one last time and straightened. “Come on.”

  “You’re expecting trouble?” Guimond wondered, shortening his stride to match the Krai’s. “No, wait, let me guess.” His smile gleamed inside the curve of his helmet. “You always expect trouble.”

  “Only when things are too fukking good to be true.”

  “Like this ship.”

  Werst glanced up at the big Human. “Yeah. That, too.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Can I stop you?”

  “Who’s Roger?”

  “What?”

  “Why does the Corps use Roger to mean, ‘I hear and understand’? Why not Angela? Or Fred? Or Werst even?”

  “How the fuk should I know? It’s a Human thing.”

  “It is?”

  “It’s not a Krai thing. Humans joined first; we got it from you.”

  “So maybe it’s a di’Taykan thing.”

  “Only if it starts humping your leg.”

  As their footsteps faded in the distance, the floor on the other side of the guard quivered and the remains of the test capsule disappeared. Nothing registered on any of the sensors.

  * * *

  “...because you haven’t given me any reason to keep them here, Staff Sergeant. Empty corridors can hardly be considered a danger.”

  “Sir, scans show the walls are full of things our engineers can’t identify. We can’t even tell where the light is coming from.”

  “But it is light, and warm, and breathable over there?”

  “Yes, sir. And that’s what concerns me.” Torin nodded as Nivry indicated the last pair had appeared around the corner. “Alien ships don’t maintain life support identical to that in a Confederation Navy shuttle. It doesn’t happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Sir, a Krai ship and a Human ship don’t maintain identical life support.” Years of practice kept the implied, “you idiot” out of her voice. “Something had to have created this for us.”

  “A friendly gesture.”

  “Or a trap.”

  “You’ve secured the area around the air lock?”

  “Yes, sir. But...”

  “No ‘buts,’ Staff Sergeant. I am the officer commanding. I believe there’s no danger and I’m bringing them over.”

  “Yes, sir.” Torin switched off the command channel. “He’s bringing them over, people! Johnston, Heer; I want you free to hook up with the scientists. Tsui, Jynett; pair up.”

  “Should we desuit, Staff?”

  Torin glanced over at Ryder who was leaning against the wall, arms folded, smiling broadly enough that fine lines bracketed both eyes. “No. And keep your helmets on. We’ve got two more species coming over. We’ll see how the ship reacts to them.”

  “Ship’s not reacting to anything, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Then what’s that you’re br
eathing, Mr. Ryder?”

  He checked his sleeve. “Appears to be predominantly an oxygen, nitrogen mix—22.3 and 76.6 percent respectively. The remaining 1.1 percent is made up of...”

  “No one likes a smart ass, Mr. Ryder.”

  “You’d be surprised, Staff Sergeant.”

  Fully aware that any possible response would only serve to further amuse their audience, Torin beckoned for Nivry. “Corporal, I want you to take three Marines out to the T-junction. I want one of you in sight of the air lock and the others wandering no more than two meters down either corridor. I want actual eyes and ears out there, just in case.”

  Nivry studied the hundred meters of featureless passage leading to the junction. “In case of what, Staff?”

  “Of whatever, Corporal. Move.”

  “Moving. Guimond, Werst, Frii—you’re with me.”

  “We just got back,” Werst protested, as the other two fell into step with the corporal.

  “Yeah? Well, nothing changed while you were gone. Come on.”

  As the four Marines started down the corridor, Torin moved the rest of the Recon team away from the air lock. If anything happened, she wanted them to have maneuvering room.

  “And where would you like me, Staff Sergeant?”

  The salvage operator’s question had a distinctly mocking undertone. “In the Berganitan. Failing that, stay out of the...” She frowned. Was that music? “Frii, if you’ve brought your player with you and if you should have an earphone in, I’d like to remind you about the regulations concerning the wearing of players while deployed and I’d like to point out that the captain’s really got me in a bad mood.” Silence. An absence of music.

  “Uh, it’s turned off, Staff.”

  “Good. Keep it that way.”

  And the lock still hadn’t opened.

  “What’s taking them so long?” Dursinski muttered, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  Beside her, Tsui snorted hard enough to momentarily fog the inside of his helmet. “Reporter’s probably trying to set up the best shot.”

  “That’s enough, people. Telltales are green; they’re...” Torin frowned. What were the odds of an alien ship using the same color codes as the Human-organized Confederation Marine Corps?

  “Staff?”

  “Private Huilin, what color do those telltales look to you?”

  Out of the corner of one eye, she saw him turn his head to look at her, turquoise hair spread out so that each blunt end touched the inside curve of his helmet.

  “They’re green, Staff.”

  “And that doesn’t strike you as strange?”

  “Telltales are always green.”

  “Human; yes. And because the Confederation found us first, so’s the Corps’ and the Navy’s. di’Taykan telltales are orange...”

  “Yuin.”

  “Orange to Human eyes.” di’Taykans saw a much broader color spectrum although less fine detail.

  “Staff, are you saying this is a Human ship?” Corporal Harrop asked as the inner doors began to open.

  “I’m saying this ship is more than it seems. Odd numbers turn around and face down corridor.” Torin could tell by the way they moved, they thought she was being overly cautious. She didn’t care what they thought, as long as they did what they were told. If nothing happened, it’d give them something to bitch about later in the barracks.

  Ryder, who’d been standing about two meters down corridor, hurriedly shifted position. “You know,” he murmured, having moved closer to Torin’s external pickups, “you’re giving paranoids a bad name.”

  Several snappy comebacks went to waste as Cirvan backed out of the air lock closely followed by Captain Travik looking heroic for the benefit of Sector Central News. Heroic quickly turned to surprise.

  “Staff Sergeant Kerr, why are these Marines still in their suits? The HE does stand for Hazardous Environment, doesn’t it?” He gave the camera a three-quarter shot, chin slightly lifted and continued before Torin could answer. “And I believe this is not a Hazardous Environment.”

  Neither the captain, nor the reporters, nor any of the scientists now spilling excitedly—and in the case of the Katrien, noisily— into the corridor were still in their suits.

  “Sir, I have reservations about this ship.”

  “Reservations?” Presit pushed her way past the two Niln and wrinkled her muzzle at Torin. “Then I are wanting a corner suite with an extra deep nest and full links.” When Torin stared down at her blankly, she sighed. “It are a play on the word reservations, Staff Sergeant. Reservations as misgivings and as a promissory booking for a room. Human humor. It are important I are appealing to many species,” she added, stroking her whiskers.

  Torin stared at the reporter for a moment longer, then she switched her gaze back to the captain. “Sir, I can’t help feeling that this isn’t all there is.”

  “I understand your disappointment, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Sir?”

  “You’re a Marine, and we prefer action.”

  Which was when she understood he was still performing for the camera.

  “Not only that, but it’s your job to be cautious, Staff Sergeant. As an officer, it’s my job to see the big picture. And the big picture says, you don’t need those suits. Take them off.”

  “Sir...”

  “That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir. Respectfully request permission to maintain suits until all gear has been removed from the shuttle.” Given what the scientists had brought from the Berganitan and what they didn’t seem to be carrying with them as they spread out from the air lock, that ought to take some time. By then, the other shoe might have dropped.

  * * *

  It hadn’t.

  * * *

  Sealing up the front of her combats, Torin watched the two Niln scientists spraying what smelled like cheap Scotch on a section of wall delineated by what looked like a single fiberoptic strand. She shrugged into her vest, snapped her slate into place, reached for her helmet, and paused.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  Did the man not have anyone else to bother? And did he have to stand so damned close? Her brows drew in, and he took half a step back but maintained his smile as he continued.

  “You’re thinking that if they—whoever the ‘they’ on this ship are—can’t show up with a welcoming committee they can at least take a shot at you, just so you know where you stand.” Before she could respond, he held up a pouch. “Corporal Nivry’s got the mess kit up and running; I brought you a coffee.”

  “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?”