Valour's Choice

by Tanya Huff

  “Webbing. We felt it would better hold her without impairing her circulation. Dr. Leor is quite concemed about her,” the ambassador continued, when Torin looked up. “We are watching her while the doctor sees to the other injured.”

  “Thank you.” Webbing... Standing, she pulled her helmet off and tucked it under one arm. “Madame Ambassador, I apologize in advance if this is insulting, but I’ve got Marines out on the wing attempting to bridge twenty meters of essentially bottomless mud and...” All eight eyes were focused on her. She stared down the multiple reflections accusing her of breaking every rule of protocol in the book. “...a little webbing might help a whole lot.”

  “We don’t see how.”

  Fortunately staff sergeants were stronger than a little embarrassment. If they weren’t, that incredible night spent with Lieutenant Jarret would’ve been truly unfortunate. Torin gestured toward the improvised cell. “It holds things together.”

  Two eyestalks turned. “Yes, it does.”

  A few moments later, one of the ambassador’s assistants was scurrying out to the wing followed by the slowly moving bulk of Strength of Arm. With the blessings of her ambassador, the Dornagain had volunteered her services. “If you think strength will be needed,” she’d added shyly.

  Torin stood once again by the hole in the barricade and watched Cri Sawyes watching her. “You’re taking this very well,” she said after a moment.

  The tip of his tail drew a figure eight in the air. “Thisss isss no more than a temporary inconvenience. You will need me out there to sssurvive.”

  “I can survive without you.” From the single flicker of his tongue, that seemed to amuse him. Next time he sticks it out, I’m tying a knot in it.

  “I have no doubt you can sssurvive, Ssstaff Sssergeant, but you have wounded and civiliansss, and for them to sssurvive you’ll need my help.”

  Torin glanced from Captain Daniels, lying too still by the hatch, to the Charge d’Affaires and her young assistant adding yet another container to their pile of gear and realized Cri Sawyes was not merely offering to help carry things through the mud. “We’re still in the wilderness preserve, aren’t we?”

  “Yesss.”

  “Your wild boys will investigate the crash.”

  “Yesss.”

  “Will we be in any danger from them?”

  “That dependsss on how you answer their challenge.” He leaned forward, claws digging into a seat back, face so close to the hole that she thought she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. “I am not your enemy.”

  Not her enemy. Which didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t the Confederation’s enemy, did it? “Stay there for now. I’ve got enough to worry about.”

  Nostrils flared, he reared back, throat pouch expanding. “I have told you thossse were not our misssilesss, I have told you I am not your enemy, and ssstill you worry about what I may do? I tell you now for the lassst time that unless sssussspicion wearsss away my ssself-control, you and your people are in no danger from me!”

  Half-turned away, Torin paused and came to a decision. “I believe you.”

  His throat pouch deflated so quickly he sneezed.

  “Even if it was a Silsviss missile, you certainly didn’t fire it. But there are another thirty-five Marines who may not see it that way,” she continued, “and, right now, I don’t have time to change their minds. You stay there, and I guarantee no one’ll take a shot at you. You start wandering around...” She shrugged.

  “I will ssstay here.” His tongue flickered again and her hand rose; she forced it back down before anything came of it.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She’d taken two steps toward the argument in the middle of the room when her implant chimed.

  *Lieutenant Jarret has regained consciousness.*

  *Contamination levels now at 3.1 and rising.*

  * * *

  Torin stepped into the troop compartment and stopped dead. Outwardly, she was surveying the activity, inwardly, she was drawing strength from being back where she belonged; no matter how bad it looked. I should have been here...

  The right wall had buckled. Impact had loosened one of the sleds and it had slammed through from the vehicle bay. There were four body bags lying beside the wreckage and three stretchers beside them. Not exactly encouraging for the three injured but the best use of the available space. Two of the three were clearly sedated; the doctor was bending over the third. One of the two corpsmen was finishing a wrist-to-elbow field dressing on the arm of a corporal from Sergeant Chou’s squad, and the other was putting together a second pack from the medical supply locker. There were field packs against the left wall and the armory hatch was open. She couldn’t see the lieutenant.

  She could see Corporal Conn, and she thanked any gods who were listening that she didn’t have to tell a four-year-old why her daddy wasn’t coming home.

  “Staff.”

  She took another step into the compartment and turned. “Mike.”

  Sergeant Glicksohn held out his slate. “You want to download the full report?”

  Reaching down she thumbed her input but didn’t bother actually looking at the screen. “Highlights?”

  “Sergeant Trey, Privates Drake...”

  Did he die with his dice in his hand, she wondered.

  “...and Damon...”

  Probably reading when it happened. Torin had approved extra memory for her slate so she could carry more books.

  “...and Corporal Sutton are dead.”

  She’d been planning on scheduling his sergeant’s exam the day General Morris had given them their new orders. With Sergeant Trey dead, he’d have probably gotten a field promotion. Except that he was dead, too.

  Torin added their names to the others she’d started carrying since she got her third hook. She knew there wasn’t anything she could have done even if she’d been in the troop compartment, but that knowledge made her feel no less responsible.

  “We had eight other injuries, three serious.” His lips pressed into a thin line, then he snarled, “Haysole got both legs caught, the stupid bastard.”

  The doctor shifted position and Torin caught her first sight of turquoise hair lying still and unmoving. Before she could ask for an explanation, Mike spat it out, the words growing louder and crowding up against each other as he spoke.

  “He was in the sled with Trey. They strapped in there, but that didn’t do them any good when we hit ground.” One fist slammed against the back of a seat. “Should have been in his seat. Goddamn di’Taykan, can’t keep it in their pants...” Torin laid her hand on his arm, and the diatribe cut off like she’d touched a switch.

  The sergeant drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Doc says he’ll get new legs and a trip home.” He lifted his head and met her gaze. “All we have to do is keep him alive until someone comes to get us. But the Berganitan’s gone and the Silsviss are shooting at us, so who the fuk is that going to be?”

  “It’s not our fault.”

  “He’s in my squad. I should’ve tied him to his seat.”

  “We’ll keep him alive.”

  “Goddamned right we will.” He drew in another deep breath and seemed to exhale his anger with it, his voice sounding no more than weary when he added, “Ceremonial duties, my ass.”

  *Contamination levels now at 3.5 and rising.*

  “You heard.”

  He nodded. “I heard.”

  “Get the stretchers topside before it gets any worse. Then I want half the able-bodied humping packs and the other half working on the bridge. Put the walking wounded on guard.”

  “The lieutenant’s awake.”

  “I know.”

  “He seems to think it might be a better idea to stay with the VTA.”

  “Does he?” Torin spotted lilac hair coming into the troop compartment from behind the ruined wall. “I’ll deal with him, you get moving on evac.”

  “Staff...”

&
nbsp; She began threading her way between the remaining seats. “Don’t worry. I’ll be polite.”

  * * *

  “Lieutenant Jarret.” When he turned toward her, Torin could see that the side of his face was badly bruised and she was willing to bet that his cheekbone had been broken. “I’m glad to see you back on your feet, sir. Has the doctor taken a look at you?”

  “No. I had the corpsman give me a pain block.”

  Only the unbruised side of his face moved when he spoke. If it was a side effect of the pain block, it was a new one. Given di’Taykan muscle control, Torin suspected he was still in pain and attempting to minimize it. “You should have the doctor rebond that bone, sir.”

  “There are Marines who need the doctor a lot more than I do, Staff Sergeant,” Lieutenant Jarret told her stiffly. “He can take care of this...” His hand rose and two fingers lightly touched his cheek. “...when he’s finished with them.”

  “Yes, sir.” It was the textbook “good officer” response—See to my men first—but there was a world of difference between those officers who made the declaration because they felt they should and those who meant it. The lieutenant seemed honestly insulted that she’d even made the suggestion, as though she should know him better than that. All things considered, she supposed he had grounds. “Sergeant Glicksohn has filled you in on the state of the platoon, sir?”

  “Yes.” He looked past her, eyes focused on the bodies across the room. “Four dead. Three badly injured. Seven others injured but mobile.”

  “Seven? I thought eight...”

  As he turned toward her, she realized he hadn’t counted himself among the injured, and she really hoped he wasn’t so young that he’d consider I’m fine to be the last word on the subject. “Sir...”

  “I’m fine.”

  Her expression provoked a smile on both sides of his mouth.

  “For now,” he added before she could speak. Then the smile vanished. “I hear you took command while I was unconscious.”

  “Yes, sir. Captain Daniels was badly injured and Lieutenant Ghard felt he should concentrate on the VTA. We lost one of the civilians, but the others have only minor injuries. Although contamination levels are rising quickly, we’ll be able to get all personnel clear of the ship before any irreversible damage is done. There’s a bridge being built from the ship to what passes for dry land in these parts, Hollice’s team is scouting a route out of the swamp, and the wounded are being evacuated topside before the leakage gets any higher.”

  “What?”

  She chose to misunderstand. “Topside, sir. We’ve settled so deeply into the mud that only the forward hatch topside is working.”

  “What I meant, Staff Sergeant, is why are you evacuating the wounded?”

  Under other circumstances she’d have admired the edge in his voice; under these circumstances she really hoped he wasn’t about to pull rank. “Sir, as I said, contamination levels are rising quickly.”

  He shook his head and didn’t quite manage to hide the pain the motion caused. “No. I’ve just had a look, and the engine room wall hasn’t been breached. If we’re under attack, the VTA is the safest place to be. The Silsviss haven’t the technology to get us out.”

  “With all due respect, sir, just because you can’t see a breach, doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” Her protest emerged as unchallenging as she could make it. The trick was not to sound as if she were talking to a three-year-old. “Your implant may not be functioning; we’ve been getting readings...”

  “My implant is functioning fine, Sergeant. The last reading was at 3.5. That’s still not enough of a threat for us to take civilians out into hostile territory.” His gaze focused past her shoulder again. “Corporal Mysho! Leave that stretcher where it is!”

  “Sir?”

  So much for being polite, Torin decided. This had to be stopped before it got messy. “Sir, the reading was 3.5 and rising...”

  He cut her off. “Still well within species tolerances. The Mictok can take levels as high as 9.2.”

  “Good for them. I can’t. Neither can you. Neither can any other Marine under your command.” His mouth opened, but she continued in the same low voice before he could speak. “The engine has been breached, there’s no telling how high the contamination will rise and, according to the ship’s long-range scanner, the only hostiles are a primitive band of male adolescents thirty kilometers away. Sir.”

  In this particular instance, sir meant: “These are the facts. I suggest you adjust your decision making accordingly.”

  Torin could feel the corporal waiting for new orders. With any luck, she was the only witness to this standoff. With any luck, it wouldn’t be the first of many.

  “Primitive band of male adolescents?” the lieutenant repeated at last.

  “We came down in a wilderness preserve.” As understanding dawned, she added, “Sir, I realize that shepherding a group of mixed species diplomats through a swamp fills you with justifiable aversion, but killing them slowly isn’t the answer.”

  For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to see the humor in that last statement, but then the uninjured side of his mouth twisted up into a crooked smile. “It isn’t?”

  “No, sir, it isn’t.”

  The smile twisted a little more. “You have everything under control, don’t you?”

  There were a number of ways to deal with that kind of incipient self-pity in a junior officer. “Thank you, sir,” she said brightly.

  “That wasn’t...” He paused.

  Torin met his gaze levelly. She could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

  His smile untwisted and turned to honest amusement. “All right, Staff Sergeant, you win. Upon considering all the options, I’ve decided to continue the evacuation. Corporal Mysho!”

  “Sir?”

  “Carry on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  By a mutual, albeit silent, agreement they ignored the relief in the corporal’s voice.

  “All right...” Lieutenant Jarret gestured at the rapidly emptying compartment. “The Marines are taken care of. What about the civilians?”

  “Two of them are helping build the bridge, the rest are packing.”

  “Packing? To march through a swamp?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On their own?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He began to shake his head but stopped, hair flat, before the motion really got started. “Send one of the walking wounded up to supervise their choices, or the doctor will want to take along his specimens and the Mictok will be packing art supplies.”

  “Yes, sir.” Half turning, she beckoned the last of the minor casualties away from the corpsman and passed on the lieutenant’s order. “Anything else, sir?”

  “I think we’d better go have a look at that bridge.” He swayed as he stepped forward, and without thinking, Torin reached out and slipped an arm around his waist, holding him until he steadied. When she released him, he stared at her for a heartbeat, eyes dark, and she wondered if she’d overstepped the line. It was one thing to keep him from making stupid mistakes—in fact, that was essentially her job description concerning second lieutenants—and another thing entirely to imply he couldn’t stand on his own two feet. Young males of any species tended to be overly proud and young male officers... Fuk it.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  Twitching his tunic down into place, he pushed past her. “I’m fine.”

  Ready to catch him if it came to it, Torin fell into step behind him. “Yes, sir.”

  EIGHT

  As they made their way up the central axis, Torin glanced over at the lieutenant and frowned thoughtfully. Although the bruising made it difficult to tell for certain, he seemed to be carrying what she called a “once more into the breach” expression on top of stiff shoulders and as close to a graceless walk as a di’Taykan could manage. From this point on, he’d do or die trying. And that had to be nipped in the bud before it was exactly what hap
pened.

  “Crisis of confidence, sir?”

  Anyone but a di’Taykan would have tripped. “What?”

  “You think you’re off to a bad start. Through no fault of your own, you were unconscious when you should have taken command, and when you finally joined the party, you think you made the wrong decision.” He had made the wrong decision, but reminding him of that wouldn’t help. “You’re determined to prove yourself because even though you’re a trained combat officer and not a diplomatic baby-sitter—no matter how perfectly your background prepared you for the latter—you’re afraid there’s nothing you can do that I can’t do better.” She timed the pause so that he barely got his mouth open before she continued. “And you’re beginning to wish that you’d had the doctor bond that bone because your head hurts like hell.”

  He’d stopped walking, so she stopped as well and turned to face him, counting silently to herself. If she got to twenty before he spoke, she’d begin an apology.

  At nine, his eyes narrowed.

  “There’s a reason telepathic races are universally hated,” he growled. “Do you always speak your mind so freely, Staff Sergeant Kerr? Because if this is some Human response to having sex...”

  “Not at all, sir. It’s part of my job description.”

  “Keeping me in my place?”

  “No, sir. Keeping good officers alive by not letting them get trapped inside their own heads.”

  This time she only got to five.

  “Good officers?”

  “Yes, sir.” She kept her answer matter-of-fact, as though he shouldn’t have had to ask, and was rewarded by a long exhalation, a visible release of tension, and a grateful smile.

  “Suck up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Staff, why do you think the Silsviss shot us down?”

  Torin shrugged. “They may not have, sir. Cri Sawyes was at the vid screen when it happened, and he says they weren’t Silsviss missiles.”