The Better Part of Valour

by Tanya Huff

  “Why won’t he just fukking die,” Johnston muttered, inching backward, both hands at shoulder height gripping the forward stretcher handles. The captain sagged forward against the net. “Then we could bag him. Dust him and he’d be a lot easier to carry.”

  “A good officer would die,” Heer grunted agreement at the other end of the body. “Fukking figures Travik would linger.”

  “You call that an abquin?”

  Johnston jerked and narrowly missed hitting his head on a random “u” of yellow pipe. “Staff! Captain Travik’s awake.”

  The captain’s eyes rolled around in their sockets independent of each other while the two engineers lowered him carefully back to a horizontal position. “Sergeant, put that Marine on report.”

  “Captain?” Torin waved the stretcher carriers forward so the rest of the march could get around the corner then bent and wrapped one hand around the captain’s chin. His skin felt cold and slightly clammy. “Sir? Can you hear me.”

  For an instant, his eyes focused on hers. “I won’t,” he snarled, upper lip curled. “And you can’t make me.” Then he blinked twice and his features sagged back into oblivion.

  She sighed and straightened. “He’s gone again, let’s move on.”

  “They are wishing he is dead,” Presit declared, emerging into the new length of passage. “I are hearing them.”

  “Ma’am, fair warning.” Torin waved the engineers and their burden forward. “No one likes a snitch.” Rather than waiting for a response, she turned and shuffled sideways past the captain, shooting Johnston and Heer both a silent warning as she passed. Griping was a grunt’s right, but they needed to keep their voices down unless they wanted every word repeated on Presit a Tur durValintrisy’s “Voice from the Front.” The torrent of chittering that followed her to her previous place in the march sounded less than complimentary even given the language barrier.

  “Staff! Dursinski. We got bugs cutting us off!”

  According to the map, the switchbacks opened up into a wide passage that would take them the remaining 1.79 kilometers aft. Which would do them no good at all if they couldn’t get to it.

  “Dursinski, which direction are they coming from?”

  “Both directions. I think they know we’re in h...” The sound of weapons fire sounded clearly over Dursinski’s PCU. “That’s a big affirmative on them knowing we’re here! We can’t get out!”

  Fuk. Only one thing to do. “Fall back. We’ll retreat to that last vertical and head back up a level.” Provided Big Yellow hadn’t changed the floor plan, they’d have room to maneuver up there.

  “Roger, Staff. Falling... Goddamn it, Huilin! Cover your left side!... back.”

  “Staff.”

  “What is it, Johnston?”

  “We sealed the hatch at the bottom of the vertical.”

  “I know. Now, you’ll have to unseal it because they could hold us indefinitely at these goddamned angled corners. You heard what’s happening, people. Nivry, you’ve just moved from tail end to point.”

  “Roger, Staff.”

  “So, now we are walking back,” Presit sneered. She pointed an ebony finger up at Torin with such force the thick fur fringe folded back off her wrist. “You are having no idea what you are doing!”

  “Shut up, you idiot. I’m so tired of hearing you complain.” The scales on the Niln’s throat began to flush a deep gold. “In fact. I’m just generally tired of hearing you.”

  Presit whirled on her, teeth bared. “You are not silencing the media!”

  “No, I’m not. I’m silencing an annoyance with more hair than brains.”

  “We are needing to get along,” Gytha began, but Torin cut her off with a touch on the shoulder and a quick shake of her head. When the Katrien stepped back, Torin stepped between the two combatants, her relative bulk impossible to ignore. “I’ve run out of dead targets to shoot in order to make a point,” she said quietly.

  “You are not meaning...” Presit’s voice trailed off as she met Torin’s eyes.

  Torin raised a brow.

  “Fine. We are walking back.” She spun around and stomped off in a cloud of shed fur. “But I are registering a complaint with General Morris the instant we are rescued.”

  “You know,” the harveer murmured to Gytha as they passed, the younger scientist having given an arm to the elder. “I’m thinking freshmen would be a lot easier to control if they let us carry weapons.”

  Ryder wanted to say something, she could feel it in the air, but a pointed look got him moving after the others. Grinning, Guimond followed.

  “And what are you two smiling at?”

  Johnston and Heer exchanged essentially identical expressions as they carried the captain back to the corner.

  “Nothing, Staff.”

  She stepped back as Harrop paused by her shoulder. “Go on, Corporal. I’m going to beat my head against a bulkhead for a moment.”

  “The general’ll stand by you, Staff. No matter what the little hairball says.”

  “Thanks.” Given their history, Torin figured the odds were about even that he wouldn’t. “Now, get moving.”

  “Staff, Nivry. We got bugs at this end, too!”

  As all eyes turned toward her, Torin allowed only mild annoyance to show.

  They’d maneuvered their way back around three corners. If the map was right, and if the ship hadn’t decided to rearrange the architecture, they were exactly halfway between in and out.

  No way to avoid a firefight.

  “How many bugs, Niviy?”

  “Can’t tell. Tsui took a hit trying to get around that last corner for a look.”

  “Is he bad?” Torin ducked around a pipe looping down from the tangle up above, paused, flipped down her helmet scanner, and tilted back her head.

  “He’s bleeding, but he’ll live. We can hold them here indefinitely, Staff.”

  “Just like they can hold us.” At maximum magnification, the light she’d spotted became a recognizable pattern. “Everyone fall back on my position.”

  “Roger, Staff.”

  “Dursinski, you copy that?”

  “Roger, Staff. Falling back.”

  “Harrop. Take a look up there and tell me what you see?”

  “Lotta pipes. No way out.”

  She reached over and thumbed an adjustment into his scanner. “Look again.”

  “It’s a... well, it could be an access grille.”

  “Let’s find out, shall we? Werst!”

  He stepped back from the corner, benny remaining in firing position until Frii stepped into his place. By the time he reached Torin’s side, he’d already slid his pack down off his shoulders. “Fukking obvious,” he grunted at her raised brow. “We’re trapped, and you’re looking up. Where do I climb to?”

  Torin pointed.

  “Right.” He wrapped a hand around the pipe Torin had ducked and swung himself up. Yellow, to blue, to red, to yellow to...

  “Serley chrika!”

  “Werst? You okay?”

  “Yeah. Mostly. This pipe, it’s fukking cold!”

  “Which pipe?” Torin snapped. All she could see was the lower half of his right leg.

  “Pinky-purple one.” His tone suggested he was as much insulted by the color as hurt by the cold. “I’m moving on.”

  He disappeared and reappeared a moment later, a shadow against the light. “You were right, it’s an access grille. Double toggles holding it in place. Should I go in?”

  “Carefully.”

  Since she wasn’t supposed to hear his grunted “No shit,” she didn’t.

  After a few moments, he returned and dropped as much as climbed back to the passage. “You’re not going to fukking believe it, Staff. Tube comes out in one of the Ventris Station wardrooms. Pool table, bar, big comfy chairs—and the door’s been barred from the inside.”

  “And the bugs?”

  “Not a whiff.”

  The door barred from the inside suggested a sanctuary—or
would have were they not running around the changeable guts of a whacked alien ship. Still, it had to have taken the wardroom from Captain Travik’s mind—there was nothing to say it hadn’t taken the symbolism as well.

  “Staff!” Dursinski threw herself into the passage after Huilin. “We got bugs one corner back.” She wiped a dribble of sweat off her face and shook her head. “We’re trapped. Trapped like rats.”

  “Cork it, Dursinski.” Torin decided she didn’t need to see the quick glances directed at the Katrien—who looked nothing at all like rats but were the only fur-bearing species present. “Nivry, where are you?”

  “Two corners out. We’ll be there in a... Tsui!”

  “Got her!”

  Up was their only option.

  Although their hands and feet looked uselessly tiny poking out from the bulk of their fur, the Katrien, like the krai were natural climbers. Harveer Niirantapajee was not.

  “And I’m old. And I’m exhausted.”

  “We’re not leaving you behind,” Torin told her, indicating that Guimond should lift her to the first pipe.

  “Who asked you to?” she snapped. “You there, Worst! Don’t just hang there. Give me your hand.”

  “It’s Werst.”

  “Worst, best... what difference does it make? Just give me your hand!”

  “You’re going to be just like her when you’re old.” Ryder had moved back into place by Torin’s shoulder.

  Torin snorted. “Except I’ll be taller. And tailless.”

  “And not half as smart.”

  “Ma’am, just climb.”

  Guimond was already halfway up, blocking the view but not the steady stream of sound.

  “Is that the pipe you were burned on? It’s considerably more pink than purple to my mind. How well does your species see that part of the spectrum? An educated guess says it’s transporting some kind of liquid gas and... Young man, get your hands off my tail!”

  The Katrien were strangely silent.

  Maybe they just need someone to be talking, Torin reasoned as Werst took a rope attached to the captain’s stretcher up over a pipe and dropped the free end back down into the passage. Heer took up a position only a Krai could hold, approximately halfway between the passage and the hatch.

  Captain Travik remained unconscious while they hoisted him up into the access tunnel.

  “Staff! He’s jammed!”

  “Unjam him!” Bruises would heal. Or he’d be dead before they had a chance to. Either way, no one else could make the climb while the captain remained stuck between two pipes.

  “Staff!” Nivry’s voice had picked up a shrill edge. “They just tossed a smoker! I think they’re going to try to rush us this side.”

  “Both sides!” Dursinski yelled.

  “Maintain a continuous fire along the floor! Frii, Huilin, steady bursts at a meter!”

  “I can’t see!”

  “You don’t need to see, the passage is only a meter wide!”

  “What are they trying to prove?” Ryder demanded. With no room to pace, he stood shifting his weight from foot to foot. “They hold us here and they keep themselves from getting to the air lock. It makes no fukking sense!”

  “Welcome to war. Start climbing.”

  “Tsui’s hurt, he should...”

  Torin grabbed his arm and shoved him toward the pipe. “Go!”

  When the smoke cleared, Dursinski’s passage held a small clump of still twitching legs.

  “Nivry?”

  “I don’t know, Staff. They were making so much noise we must’ve hit something, but they’ve cleared any bodies.” The corporal adjusted her grip on the vid cable and waved a hand under her nose. “Smells like roasted nuts.”

  “Do bugs have nuts?” Huilin wondered beside her.

  “Maybe they roasted yours.”

  He laughed but made a fast, one-handed grab for his crotch. Just in case.

  The packs went up quickly, Orla to Heer to Werst to Guimond. Once they were clear, Torin called the two Krai down and sent Tsui and Orla up.

  “You’re the fastest climbers. You’ll be the last two on the corners. If I put Huilin by the liquid gas pipe, can you get by?”

  Heer looked dubious. “It’ll be tight.”

  “Just tell him not to grab anything,” Werst grunted, “and we’ll manage.”

  As Johnston, Harrop, and Jynett made the climb, the Krai replaced the two di’Taykan on the corners.

  “Frii, up. Huilin, seal your helmet; you’ll be covering our tracks.”

  “You want me to laser a hole in that pipe?”

  He was smarter than he looked, but then most di’Taykan were. “No, I want you to use your cutters on that pipe. We’re not using lasers on an unknown gas.”

  “Okay, but why not just use a grenade? I mean, you made us carry them all this way.”

  “Because it’d be a waste of a smoker and we don’t use the gas if we’re not all in suits. We’re in a closed environment, and I don’t want us running into it later. Besides, it’d be rude not to use the free alternative kindly provided.”

  “Yeah, but. Staff, my cutters went up with my p...”

  Torin held out the pair she’d pulled as the packs went by. “I’d do it myself, but you’re in the suit. Nivry, Dursinski; now!”

  Nivry squeezed off two more shots, but Dursinski whirled and ran for the pipes.

  “What’ll keep them from following us?” she demanded, as Torin boosted her to the first handhold.

  “They don’t climb for shit. They don’t like the cold. And they’ve chased us up a level away from the air lock. Pick one.”

  She half twisted to stare down at Torin. “It’s not cold.”

  “Yet. Climb!”

  Nivry’s foot had barely left the pipe when Torin grabbed it. “Huilin, right behind me. Heer, Werst, wait for my word and then haul ass.” She squeezed her shoulders through between a red and blue pipe, wondered how Guimond and Ryder had fit, and pulled herself up to the pipe above the gas line. It was, indeed, a pinky-purple regardless of the harveer’s contrary opinion.

  “In there, Huilin.” Leg wrapped around a vertical, she bent and checked his seals as he wedged himself as far out of the way as possible. “If you’re not through the pipe by the time Werst and Heer are at the access tunnel, leave it. This is just insurance; like I said, bugs don’t climb for shit.”

  He grinned at her through his faceplate. “What happened to the rule about not putting holes in the ship?”

  “It got beat by the desire to not have bugs put holes in us. Werst, Heer! Now.”

  She could feel them on the pipes as she dragged herself into the tunnel, two pairs of hands and feet slapping out a staccato rhythm. Benny across her back, she crawled forward on elbows and knees. It was a familiar means of locomotion— join the Marines, crawl around the universe. Uncountable sums budgeted for tech and somehow it always came down to that. Usually, it also came with mud.

  “Blade’s not making much of an impression.”

  “Then leave it.”

  “No, it’s cutting. It’s just slow.”

  “And on a flat surface the bugs aren’t.” She could hear Werst and Heer in the tunnel behind her. “I said leave it, before they start shooting at you.”

  “Almost got...”

  It was a small explosion, strangely muffled. A ripple ran down the length of the tunnel.

  “Huilin! Goddamn it, Huilin, answer me!”

  “I’m okay. Mostly okay. I’m in the tunnel.”

  Torin’s heart slowed closer to its normal rate as she crawled off the metal onto carpeting, rolled to one side, and stood.

  Heer and Werst crawled past; then, a long moment later, the top of Huilin’s helmet appeared. Torin helped him the last meter with a white-knuckled grip on his tank, hauling him up onto his feet and popping his seals before he was fully standing.

  “First, what the fuk does mostly okay mean?”

  His eyes were as pure a turquoise as his hair—every lig
ht receptor closed tight. “I got caught looking at the flash.” His arm trembled under her hand.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you’re di’Taykan then; it’s a better ocular system for stupidity.” She tightened her grip and shook him gently. “They’ll open up again, just give them time. And until then, you’ve got an excuse to grope your way through the team.” His hair started to lift but before he could reach for her, she snapped, “Second, what happened?”

  “Gas started to pour out. It split the pipe and flooded down into the passage just when one of the bugs got off a shot.” He shrugged. “Boom.”

  “Yeah. I got that part. And third...” This time when she shook him, it was a lot less gently. “What part of leave it did you not understand?”

  “I wanted to get the job done.”

  “Admirable sentiment. Except when I’m telling you to do something else.”

  “Sorry, Staff.”

  “You’re just lucky you didn’t get yourself killed ’cause that would have really pissed me off.” Still holding his arm, she turned the two of them toward the room. “Come one, let’s... H’san on fukking crutches.”

  It really was one of the wairdrooms on Ventris Station. It said so over the door. Ventris Station. Wardroom Three.

  It held a bar big enough for captains to drink at without having to rub elbows with lieutenants—although the bottles of booze behind it seemed to be part of the wall. There were a dozen big comfy chairs and four sofas. A pool table. Carpeting. Soft, indirect lighting. Deep burgundy curtains covered the wall opposite the bar.

  “Don’t tell me there’s a window behind there,” she sighed.

  “Okay.” Grinning broadly, Ryder opened the curtains instead.

  They were looking out toward the Berganitan, impossibly tiny one hundred and eighteen kilometers away. Could Human eyes even see one hundred and eighteen kilometers? Torin wondered. Even through empty space? Space... She ran over the distance they’d traveled. “It can’t be a window, we’re nowhere near the hull.”

  “It doesn’t seem to matter.”

  A Jade spun by, one of the Others’ fighters in close pursuit. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve had just about enough of this crap. Has anyone taken a look at what’s outside that door?”