The Better Part of Valour

by Tanya Huff

  The section of wall looked as gray and blank as any on the ship. “It can’t be a second air lock.” She pointed across the passage. “Not if that’s the hull.”

  “I don’t think it’s a second lock, I think it’s a...”

  A two-meter-by-a-meter-and-a-half piece of the bulkhead slid sideways. Behind it was a small access tunnel and a ladder leading down.

  Heer looked up at Torin and grinned. “I think it’s an access tunnel.”

  “And one without a bug in it. Nice change.” She dropped a perimeter pin. It stuck to the deck as it landed and registered no movement on the lower level. “Spatially, this ought to make Johnston happy.”

  “Staff?”

  “Never mind.” A half-turn checked out the available Marines. “Orla, Huilin, got a job for you.”

  Ryder shot her an indecipherable glance which she ignored. Not everything was about him. In fact, not much of anything was about him.

  * * *

  “Staff, Orla. You’ve got to see this.”

  “On my way.”

  The lower level had four hatches and four control panels built into the bulkhead defined as the hull by the air lock up above. “Escape pods?”

  “Well, they’re not like any we’ve ever seen, but it’s our best guess. Look.” Orla pressed her hand against one of the hatches and a section twelve centimeters by eight cleared.

  Torin leaned forward, staring through the window into a gray padded interior. It looked like no escape pod she’d ever seen either, but—in a weird way—it looked like all of them. They could probably fit both Katrien in it with no difficulty, but of the larger species there’d be room only for two di’Taykan and their total lack of issues concerning personal space. To get two Humans or two Krai into them, they’d have to be under heavy fire with no other chance of survival. In Torin’s experience, no other chance of survival settled issues pretty damned quick.

  Given the way the last twenty-plus hours had gone, too few escape pods to save all her people were high on the list of things she didn’t want to see. The one thing she knew for certain was that Big Yellow had an agenda, and this didn’t look good.

  “Should we get the harveer and see if she can open them, Staff? Just in case?”

  “No, not right now. She’s still working on the lock and after that. I’d like her to have her rest a bit before she has to face a vertical ladder. She’s old, and it’s been a long day. And, Huilin, put your goddamned helmet on.”

  He sighed deeply but obeyed. “It doesn’t fit under the HE’s helmet, Staff.”

  “When you’ve got the HE’s helmet on, you can take your combat gear off, but not before.”

  “We going to guard these things, so the bugs don’t get them?”

  “No, the air lock’s more important. They try to rush us and we’ll need all weapons. We’ll set 2Ps at twenty meters both directions keyed to my pin at the foot of the shaft. The bugs show up, we’ll know it.”

  “I’m out of pins, Staff.”

  “And this is my last.”

  “All right, hang on.” She flipped her mike. “Heer, drop a perimeter pin down the shaft.”

  “You not sure you’re moving, Staff?”

  “Just do it.”

  Nearly out of 2Ps, nearly out of MDCs. If the shuttle didn’t get there soon they’d be out everything but smart-ass remarks.

  * * *

  “The new thrusters are DK-7s, your old ones are sixes. The new ones are a fraction of a second more responsive. Try to remember that.”

  Sibley sealed his flight suit and grinned up at Chief Graham. “It’s on my list and I’m checking it twice.”

  “A fraction of a second means something at the speeds you’re traveling.”

  “I know that, Chief.”

  “I should be replacing all the sixes with sevens, but for some reason the FC wants to give you another chance to get your ass shot off.”

  “Well, you know what they say, ass not what you can do for the Confederation.”

  The chief sighed and folded his arms over a barrel chest. “No one says that, sir.”

  “I just did.” Sibley slapped the hatch release and motioned Shylin ahead of him into the docking bay, continuing the gesture and turning it into a jaunty wave back at the chief.

  “Try to bring your ride back in one piece this time,” Graham growled as the hatch closed.

  Because if the Jades came back in one piece, so did the crews flying them.

  * * *

  “Think we can catch the squadron, Sib?”

  His fingers danced over the thruster pad. “As easy as catching crabs on shore leave.”

  “And thank you for that image.”

  The rest of Black Star Squadron were nearly under the belly of the alien ship, having been sent to guard the air lock.

  “Why would the Others destroy the air lock?” Shylin muttered, eyes locked on her tracking screens. “They want to use it, too.”

  “Why did the Others invade in the first place? Why do the H’san and the Mictok keep getting themselves blown to rat-shit attempting a diplomatic end to the war? Why did I get that tattoo on my ass? Answer these and other skill testing questions, and you’ve solved the secrets of the universe.”

  “Just how many of those stim sticks did you have?”

  “Not enough. Looks like the rest of the team’s seeing some action up close and personal.”

  An enemy squadron had joined the Black Stars outside the air lock. Maneuvering under the four-kilometer breadth of the ship, both sides tried for a clean target lock that would keep them from blowing up their own fighters.

  “Sib! Unfriendly, starboard, four o’clock!”

  “Got her. Moving to engage. She’s not reading us yet.”

  “Target locked and... she’s firing!”

  A pair of missiles streaked out from the enemy fighter.

  “Taking evasive action!”

  “She’s not firing at us.”

  Both missiles raced toward the fight under Big Yellow.

  And then she fired again and there were four.

  “Fuk! She’s got as much chance of hitting her guys as ours! Can you get them?”

  Each missile split into three smaller warheads.

  “What, all twelve?”

  “Black Group, this is Black Seven! Disengage! Incoming ordnance! Repeat, incoming ordnance! Bugs are firing into melee.”

  “Black Seven, this is Black Leader. Bugs can’t be firing into melee; they’ll hit their own people.”

  “They don’t care, Skipper! You’ve got a dozen little bangers moving in fast. Get out of there, now!”

  “Black Group, this is Black Leader. You heard the man! Move.”

  “Must’ve looked out his fukking window,” Sibley muttered.

  “Evasive action, Sib. This time she’s aiming at us!”

  By the time they straightened out, most of the squadron had cleared out of the blast zone.

  “Boom Boom! Disengage!”

  “Don’t tell me, tell the bu...”

  * * *

  Something slammed into the hull and bounced. The double impact filled the passage with sound. The Katrien woke, shrieking. Fingers slid under trigger guards as bennys rose looking for an enemy.

  “What the fuk was that?” Werst demanded when the sound faded.

  All eyes turned to Torin. “That was opportunity knocking.” She shoved the last empty coffee pouch into her pack. “You didn’t answer, so it’s buggered off to find someone who appreciates it.”

  “Oh, I’ll fukkin’ appreciate it,” Werst growled.

  “And would the universe end if you just told them you didn’t know?” Ryder asked under cover of the snickering.

  Torin stared at him for a long moment. “Theirs would,” she said at last.

  * * *

  “We only lost one of the Jades, Captain. Black Star Eight.”

  Captain Carveg sighed deeply and drummed her fingers against the edge of the screen. “Good thing Lieutenant Co
mmander Sibley was where he was when he was.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And the enemy fighters?”

  “One of the enemy fighters was destroyed with Black Eight. Another took damage but got clear.”

  “So they can also thank Lieutenant Commander Sibley.” She looked down at her fingers as though she didn’t recognize them and forced them to still. “What did they think they were doing?”

  Those of the C3 crew who could look up from their screens exchanged uncertain glances.

  “Risking collateral damage to win,” a lieutenant commander offered when the continuing silence seemed to indicate it hadn’t been a rhetorical question.

  “Win what?” the captain demanded. “They destroy some magic number of our fighters and get their engines back? Have they got information about Big Yellow that we don’t? This makes no serley sense!”

  “This whole war makes no more sense than a H’san opera.”

  Captain Carveg spun around in her chair and glared at the general. He was smiling, and she had to work very hard at not taking it personally. “Have you spoken to your people, sir?”

  “No. I had an idea.” When he paused, the room paused with him. “The Promise. The CSO’s ship.” When no one seemed enthused, he continued more forcefully. “It’s using up one of your shuttle bays, I say we use it to get my Marines. Hell, we’ll use it to get Ryder, so he’ll certainly have no grounds for complaint.” Brows drawing in, his smile faded as he took a closer look at her face. “What? You’ve got to have pilots left; how hard can it be to fly?”

  “Flying it isn’t the problem. General.” And thank you for that sensitive assessment of my flight crew. “Craig Ryder’s got his ship locked down so tight we might not even be able to break the cipher to get the air lock open. And, if we could get in, preliminary investigation suggests we’ll blow the engines if we try to start them without his code.”

  “You’ve had your people working on it.”

  It wasn’t exactly a question, but since he seemed to resent the preempting of his idea, and the last thing she needed on top of everything else was a sulky general, she said only, “Yes.”

  “So have your ship override his system! Goddamn it. Captain, you’re sitting on a Confederation destroyer—use it!”

  “Ignoring for the moment. General, that you do not give orders concerning my ship while on my ship, the Promise is not hooked up to the Berganitan.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  She spun her chair around to face him full on and got to her feet, the dais giving her enough height to look him in the eye. “Why the hell should it be? I certainly didn’t anticipate having to use it and, frankly, sir, if you did, I wish you’d told me back when it would have done some serley good!”

  “Standard Operating Procedures...”

  “Do not cover civilian ships in military shuttle bays because civilian ships aren’t permitted to use military shuttle bays.” She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “If there’s any way we can use the Promise—and my people are continuing to work on it—we will. I no more want to leave, those Marines there than you do. And believe me, sir, it’s not because I give a fuk about what the Krai in Parliament will say about the loss of Captain Travik.”

  “I believe you, Captain Carveg.”

  Something had occurred to him. He couldn’t possible be looking so serley happy because she’d thrown in a sir.

  “And now, if your communications officer will see about raising Staff Sergeant Kerr, I’ll see what I can do about having her get those codes from Mr. Ryder.”

  * * *

  “Well?”

  Ryder shook his head. “The air lock and the control panel both need a retina scan as well as the codes.”

  “Yours?”

  “No, my mother’s. I keep her left eye in a jar under my bunk. You know, you ought to bottle that look, you could sell it to weapons manufacturers.”

  “Ryder.”

  “Yeah, mine.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.”

  “Your mother’s eye would be more useful,” Torin muttered, and passed the bad news on to General Morris.

  *We’ll keep working on it, Staff Sergeant. There has to be someone on this ship who can bypass a civilian security system.*

  Ressk’s voice rose out of memory. “You know there isn’t a sys-op I can’t get into. I could be useful on this kind of a mission.”

  Except he’d be trapped on Big Yellow with the rest of the team.

  *Staff Sergeant Kerr?*

  “Sorry, sir. I was trying to think of a way to get Ryder’s eye to you.”

  *Yes. Well. How’s Captain Travik?*

  The urge to ask “Who the fuk cares?” was intense. “He’s alive, sir.”

  *Good. We’ll let you know if anything changes at this end. Don’t worry, Staff Sergeant, I have complete faith in your ability to maintain discipline under these trying circumstances.*

  “Yes, sir.” Torin tongued off her implant and lifted an eyebrow in Ryder’s direction. “And they say I’m paranoid.” No point in mentioning that his paranoia had just got them killed; he knew it. She could see the realization on his face. “It’s not your fault; you couldn’t have anticipated this when you locked up.”

  He shrugged and a corner of his mouth curled up in a self-mocking smile. “I just don’t like people touching my stuff.”

  “Who does?”

  “Staff, we got bugs!”

  “On my way.” She hurried down the passage to the rhythm of weapons’ fire, wondering why the perimeter pins they’d left at the corner hadn’t given them more warning. “Frii.”

  He glanced up as she passed.

  “What the hell are you singing?”

  “It’s di’Taykan electro pop, Staff.”

  “Well, pop it back where you found it.”

  He grinned. “It sounds better with the music.”

  “Let’s hope.” She dropped behind the left barricade with Harrop. “Hold your fire until you’re sure you can hit them,” she ordered, loud enough to be heard by Dursinski as well. “We’re going to need more than bad language to stop them when they make their try for the air lock.”

  “So far they’re just keeping our heads down,” Harrop told her, checking the charge on his benny. “Letting us know they’re there.”

  “How many?”

  “Hard to say but two definitely; one shooting high, one low.”

  “They took out the perimeter pin,” Dursinski added. “We had no warning.”

  “They did or the ship did. It doesn’t much matter.” A sudden vision of a perimeter pin sinking into a previously solid deck flashed through Torin’s head. Lifting her hand, she rocked forward onto the balls of her feet, wishing she could lift those as well.

  “How long are we going to have to hold them, Staff?”

  “Good question.” Harrop shot her a questioning look and Torin switched to the group channel. “Listen up, people; Big Yellow has decided to prevent the Berganitan from launching her last shuttle. Which means they’re going to have to come up with another way to get us off this thing. Which means we’ll be here a while yet.”

  “Goddamned Navy.”

  “I doubt they’re happy about it either, Dursinski. Huilin, Orla; you two get up here and double our strength on the barricades. The rest of you, stay sharp.”

  “Staff, we got something going on back here, too.”

  “What is it, Nivry?” The other corporal was standing by the sealed hatch to the tank room. “We got bugs cutting through?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  Neither could Torin when she laid her hand against the hatch and felt the faint vibration. “Could be some kind of sonic cutter, I suppose. All we can do right now is keep an eye on it.”

  “Staff...”

  “Captain Carveg told me she wasn’t leaving without us,” Torin said, answering the question Nivry didn’t ask. “She’ll find a way.”

  “Why do you think Big Y
ellow let one evac shuttle launch but not the other?”

  “Probably took it that long to figure out how to jam the controls.”

  Or both ships only got one chance and they blew it. But although that felt more likely, she wasn’t planning to say it out loud.

  And who said they only got one chance?

  “Mr. Ryder, leave the benny and come with me.”

  She walked past, assuming that he’d follow, and the strength of that assumption pulled him to his feet.

  * * *

  “They’re escape pods,” Ryder said, studying the interior.

  “Yes, they are. And you’re going to get in one, get to the Berganitan, get into your ship, then come back and get us.”

  He straightened so quickly, he had to reach out and steady himself against the hatch. “You’re insane.”

  Torin folded her arms. “What makes you think so?”

  “What makes me think so?” When she made it clear she was waiting for an answer, he sighed. “Okay, to begin, there’s two stretchers, eleven standing Marines and three civilians—I have a one-man operation. You’ve seen the inside of my ship.” One hand slapped his chest. “I barely fit inside.”

  “You’re right, I saw inside your ship and there’s plenty of room for the stretchers and the three civilians.”

  Which wasn’t the problem and they both knew it, but they had a way to go before they needed to pick at psychological scabs.

  “And the eleven standing Marines?”

  “Grab enough HE suits from the Berg and we’ll ride in the salvage pens.”

  Ryder stared at her for a moment. Then he spun on one heel, walked six paces out, spun again, walked six back. “Okay, I was just talking before, but you really are insane.”

  “It’s one hundred and eighteen kilometers; a little under half an hour’s travel time in an STS. From what I saw of the Promise, you should be able to do it in an hour. We’ll be fine.”

  “No inertial dampers.”

  Torin shrugged. The space between Big Yellow and the Berganitan buzzed with enemy fighters; inertia would be the least of their problems. “You’ve got straps, don’t you? To keep the salvage from crashing around? We’ll strap in.”

  Six out, six back. He wiped his hands on his thighs. “All right, given that we’ve established your lack of sanity, what makes you think Big Yellow will allow me to launch? I could easily be locked down, just like the shuttle.”