by Huff, Tanya
The corporal’s pupils were dilated, and she was breathing in short, terrified bursts.
Torin shook her one more time, hard enough for her to flop within her combats like a rag doll, and released her. “We will not have this conversation again.”
There was the sudden, sharp smell of urine as the corporal pissed herself in fear. Torin ignored it, turning to touch the young private gently on the arm. His head ducked down as if he were bracing for a blow, but he opened his eyes. “Walk with me, Private . . . ?”
“Graydon, Gunnery Sergeant, 6th Division, 3rd Recarta, 2nd Battalion, Sierra Company.” His voice had been roughened by the pressure on his throat, the vowels softened by a soft drawl she couldn’t place.
“Private Graydon . . . we need to talk.”
He was taller than she was, broad shoulders, much of his height in his torso rather than his legs. Like Craig, she realized and forced her thoughts in another direction. He walked with a limp, curled in on himself, trying to make his size seem less of a threat. He was so damned young it hurt her to look at him. “You came off Crucible, your unit was deployed, and you were taken in your first fight?”
“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant.” He sounded surprised. Not the question he’d expected.
“You need to bring the surviving Marines who served Harnett up on charges.”
“I what?”
“I killed them to stop them from doing what they were doing, but I can’t just kill them because of what they did.” Although she found herself wishing she’d slammed Corporal Zhang’s skull into the rock so hard his brains had painted the tunnel. “We’re all Marines here; we have to remember that and, when Marines do what they did, they’re dealt with by the Corps. You, and the others, bring them up on charges, and Major Kenoton will see that they’re dealt with.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
Her hands were curled into fists so tight that, within them, her fingers ached. “I wasn’t here.”
They walked halfway around the node, slowly, quietly. Graydon was thin, flesh skimmed over bones, but he’d clearly been getting at least some supplements.
“I’d have to tell what they did,” he said at last.
“Yes.” It wasn’t a question, but Torin answered it anyway.
“It was easier when the di’Taykan turned their maskers down.”
She’d never heard of a di’Taykan taking an unwilling partner, but she supposed there were bastards in every species.
Something of the thought must have shown on her face because Graydon gave a short, humorless bark of laughter. “You’re not unwilling, then, and you enjoy it. We were grateful to the di’Taykan.”
“But they weren’t always there.”
“No.” His turn to answer what wasn’t a question.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“And I’d tell you it wasn’t your fault either, Gunny, but we both know you’d believe that here . . .” One hand pressed against the fabric over his heart. “. . . as much as I do.”
“Charges, Gunnery Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
The major shifted slightly on the folded pallet as though searching for a spot where he still had enough flesh to cushion his tailbone. “And when they are found guilty, how do you expect me to punish them?”
Torin took the moment she needed to keep from saying, You could drop them in the disposal pit and said, “That’s not for me to say, sir.”
“As I just asked, I think it is.”
“You could begin by reducing their rank.”
“I’m sure that will make a huge difference while we’re imprisoned.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t be deliberately obscure, Gunnery Sergeant, it’s annoying. Say what you mean.”
“Marines have a clearly defined rank structure, sir. If we’re Marines while we’re imprisoned, then to knock Harnett’s survivors down to the bottom of that rank structure is at least a beginning.”
“But where do we go from there, that’s the question.” Major Kenotan sighed, and his hair swept languidly from front to back. “Still, it will give everyone something to focus on, something to keep us from slipping back into . . .” The pause extended almost too long. “. . . bad habits. Captain Allison was a lawyer before he got his commission. I’m sure he can convene a disciplinary court.”
“You might consider asking the three Marines who’ll be laying the charges what they’d consider a suitable punishment, sir.”
The major looked up at her, and for the first time since Torin had handed over the command, his eyes changed color, darkening slightly as he studied her face. Not for the first time, Torin wondered how much he could actually see. “You think I might consider that?”
“Yes, sir.”
He drained his bowl and very nearly smiled. “You’re an extraordinarily bloody-minded individual, Gunnery Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The question now becomes: What do we do with you?”
She’d been half expecting this.
“Although Corporal Werst seems to have a fairly balanced opinion—and whether that’s in spite of or because of your history I have no idea,” he continued—“the Krai seem to be following young Kyster’s lead. Most of the di’Taykan . . .” A quick glance toward Lieutenant Myshai, who wasn’t even pretending not to hover just beyond eavesdropping range. “. . . expect you to begin that family line here and now. As far as the Humans are concerned, well, you’re one of theirs. And, over all, you’re Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr—you defeated the Silsviss, you outwitted Big Yellow, you exposed a new alien threat, and you marched in here and single-handedly saved us from starving to death under Harnett’s gentle care.”
He hadn’t known about Big Yellow or the new alien threat three days ago.
“I’ve been hearing stories, Gunny.” His eyes lightened again although the difference was minimal. “There’s quite the cult of personality developing around you.”
Force of personality had put Harnett in power.
The warning came through loud and clear.
“I think we need to get you out of here, Gunnery Sergeant.” More than anything, he sounded weary.
“Yes, sir.” Torin was one hundred percent behind getting out. “There’s a rockfall out the end of tunnel four. We need to find out what’s on the other side of it.”
The ends of his hair flicked back and forth, the movement dismissive. “More tunnels.”
“That’s possible, sir. But my gut tells me it’s also the way out.
“Your gut tells you?”
Maybe not the best body part to bring up to a man who’d just been more than half starved. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you planning an escape, Gunny?”
“Yes, sir.” Although, so far, there wasn’t much of a plan beyond clearing the rock away.
“Not what I meant when I said we need to get you out of here.” The major stared down at the back of his left hand for a moment, watching his right thumb stroke across the loose skin. “These are your orders, then,” he said when he finally looked up. “You’re to go out to the barricade with the next group. As part of the next group,” he amended before she could speak. “Food for three is quite enough to skim.”
“Sir?”
“Go beyond the barricade,” the major continued as though they’d been discussing a trip to the barricade all along. “Make contact with the other group of Marines. If they’re in the situation we were in, well, you can use your overabundance of personality to save them. If, however, they’re having as pleasant a time as is possible under the circumstances, let them know that our situation has changed. I will want to speak with their CO; however, there’s no rush. It’s not as if either of us are going anywhere. Return with your group if you can, if not . . .” He shrugged.
“Sir . . .”
“Yes. Your escape plan.” He went back to staring at his hands. “Who knows, they may have escape plans of their own. Or,” he added quietly as the skin folded under hi
s caress, “you can refuse a direct order and do what you want. I’m sure Corporal Werst and Private Kyster and all of Harnett’s surviving di’Taykan will go with you to help clear rocks.” It didn’t sound as though he cared.
The question was, did Torin?
“I’ll leave for the barricade in the morning, sir.”
Apparently, she did.
Torin fought the urge to tell Werst that he was in charge while she was gone. Not because she didn’t believe Staff Sergeant Pole was doing his best, but because Werst was carrying a lot less baggage than anyone who’d been in the node under Harnett’s care—although starvation-induced lethargy seemed to be keeping a lid on what should have been a powder keg.
“Why take Kyster?” Werst demanded as she adjusted the rope holding the sleeve full of kibble on her shoulder.
“Fuk you,” Kyster muttered, close enough to hear.
“Fuk you, Lance Corporal,” the older Krai corrected smugly. “What about his foot, Gunny?”
“Didn’t slow us down walking here.”
“You think he’ll follow you if you don’t take him?”
Kyster’s body language made it obvious that was exactly what he’d do.
“He’ll follow you over the fukking barricade,” Werst pointed out.
“I’ll deal with that at the barricade.” It was a long walk; she had a whole day to come up with something.
Harnett had assigned six of the eight two-liter canteens he’d retrieved off incoming prisoners to the hunting parties on the barricade. Torin had found the other two in Harnett’s stores, both bloodstained but intact—four liters meant two days out, two days back. She had twelve biscuits tucked into the pockets of her vest, traded for the biscuits she’d be missing while she was gone.
“So why do you have to go?” Werst asked.
“Major’s orders, Corporal.” Torin looked out over the prisoners— Marines—and shook her head, although at what, exactly she wasn’t sure. “And if I don’t, well, I’m just a little concerned I’m going to kill someone.”
His nose ridges opened and closed, and his expression suggested that her killing someone would be no surprise. That was one of the things she was concerned about.
“Still plenty who need killing,” he reminded her.
“It might not be one of them.”
That was the other.
“Ah.” He stood quietly for a moment, arms folded. “Why not me?”
“You were one of them, if only for a short while, and besides, Terantowicz will likely try something the moment I’m gone. You can . . .”
“Wer tayner chrick ca keeteener amick.”
She snorted. “If you can find a nice red sauce, go for it.”
They left just after the morning meal, Watura and Kyster to remain at the barricade while she went on. In another three days Divinit and Sergei might be strong enough to make the trip, but for now she was still forced to rely on Harnett’s di’Taykan.
Who had been complicit in the abuse of three Marines.
Just like the hundred who did nothing, her subconscious insisted on adding. Intellectually, she understood why force of numbers didn’t apply. There had been thousands of Silsviss surrounding that supply station. Thousands of Silsviss against most of one platoon and half a dozen diplomats. Numbers had not given the Silsviss the victory. Emotionally, however . . .
In an effort to keep her thoughts from circling around and around like scavengers over a battlefield, she worked out the logistics of clearing the rockfall. Worked out how much food she’d need if she used Harnett’s survivors in shifts. Manual labor was a traditional Corps punishment.
She’d consider conscripting a few heavy gunners had they come through with their exoskeletons, but with nothing plugged into their implanted contact points, they were no more capable of moving rock than any other Marine.
Traveling through the tunnels screwed with Torin’s time sense. The light never varied, and the rock had very little gradation in color. Number seven tunnel had fewer of the minor caves than number four, and she mentally mapped them against the positions of the equally smaller number of cross tunnels. Watura and Kyster had a small argument at each cross tunnel concerning where it went and how it got there. About half the time they were unable to come to an agreement, and Torin sided with Kyster. Survival was a better teacher than the occasional patrol.
Otherwise, they didn’t talk much; Kyster had grown used to keeping his own counsel, and Torin didn’t feel like chatting. Watura was either too much in awe of her progenitor status to attempt conversation or, hopefully, smarter than he looked. Since he didn’t seem to be in awe, she reluctantly granted him the second option.
They ate mush when Kyster said it was midday. When Watura demanded to know how he knew, Kyster showed his teeth and said, “Half the light is gone.” Since they had no other way of judging time besides their bellies, and bellies were notoriously inaccurate, Torin took his word for it.
A couple of hours, give or take, after mush and Watura waved at a cross tunnel. “Last one, Gunnery Sergeant Kerr.”
“ ’Swhere I saw the hunting party come back. Beaten,” Kyster added cheerfully.
“Tunnel goes straight after this,” Watura continued, ignoring him.
“So the prison is set up as two separate territories with a link between them. Maybe more than two,” Torin corrected thoughtfully. “There could be an infinite number of nodes strung out like beads on a necklace.” The string had broken at the rockfall by Kyster’s water supply. Were there more nodes beyond? “Why did Harnett send you out this far?”
“He was extending his perimeter to the limits of the canteens— one liter for the day out, one for the day back. Edwards said they got jumped on the second day. Other than that, I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
Didn’t matter, Jiyuu was at the barricade, and if she needed more details than he’d already spilled, she had no doubt the youngest di’Taykan would be happy to oblige.
“How long ago did it happen?”
“Damned if I know, Gunnery Sergeant.” Watura raised his left arm with its dead cuff. “My calender’s completely fukked.”
“Kyster?”
“More than thirty days, Gunny. Less than sixty.”
He sounded so definite she didn’t smile at the thirty day margin of error. “The other group only approached the barricade that one time?”
“Yeah, just once.” Watura’s hair flipped back and forth. “Some say they’ve seen people moving in the distance, but I never have. It’s pretty fukking creepy at night, though.”
The barricade had been made of rock pulled from the smaller caves and piled across the tunnel. More of a territorial statement than a deterrent against a determined assault—particularly when the only missile weapons were more rocks—it was waist-high on Torin, a little lower on the di’Taykan, and about eye level for Kyster. He peered over it, grunted, and backed up to sit against the tunnel wall and rub his bad foot.
Darlys, Jiyuu, and Akemi seemed pleased to see her and would have included her in the welcome they gave Watura had she not raised a warning hand.
Later, over bowls of mush and supplement, she looked toward Jiyuu tucked up tight against Watura’s side, jerked her head over the barricade, and said, “I want a full report on what happened the day you met the others . . .” She frowned. “The other Marines. I want the details. Everything you remember.”
“I told you . . .”
“Your report was short on detail.”
He sighed and turned his bowl between his hands. “We stopped just past here; maybe another hour, it’s hard to tell.” His eyes lightened to pale pink as he glanced around the tunnel and shrugged. “It all looks the same. After dark, we decided not to get entirely naked because Edwards . . .”
Torin raised a hand. “Skip those particular details.”
“But . . .”
Her patience had frayed beyond allowing for species idiosyncrasies. “You know how to give a sitrep, Private. Stop screwing ar
ound.”
The hair of all four di’Taykan momentarily stilled. When Jiyuu began speaking again, his voice had lost some of its ingratiating tone.
“Next morning, Edwards figured we should go a little farther before we turned. Even if we got caught in the dark, we’d be nearly back to the node and we could easily go the rest of the way without light.”
Possibly but not easily; not unless they’d reached that last ten meters of straight tunnel.
“We got just past where the tunnels started to twist again . . .”
On the other side of the barricade, the tunnel looked like it ran straight for about a kilometer.
“. . . and at the first small cave . . .” Jiyuu paused, his hand rising to his masker.
“Lower it,” Torin snapped. “Making me horny won’t make me any less angry about this. At the first small cave you found a new Marine.”
“We heard moaning,” Jiyuu admitted. “Edwards went in, and a while later he came out wiping his hands . . .”
“Killed him or robbed him. Left him to die,” Kyster growled when the di’Taykan paused again. “Not too fukking gentle about it, neither. I found some of the guys you left. I was one of the guys you left!”
“We didn’t leave you . . .”
Kyster snapped his teeth together, and Akemi jumped. “Fukking dumped me!”
Darlys shook her head, ocher hair spreading with the motion. “If we hadn’t done what Harnett said, someone else would have.”
“Do not give me that crap.” Torin’s voice slapped the di’Taykan’s hair flat, even as she closed her hand around Kyster’s arm and held him in place. They stared at her, all four of them breathing hard, their eyes dark. “Let’s be clear about this. There are no excuses for what you did. Young and stupid isn’t an excuse. Fear isn’t an excuse. If I had killed you all when I took the node back from Harnett, I would be feeling no remorse.” She took a deep breath. “You did what you did. All you can do now is take responsibility for it.”
