A truth of Valor

TWELVE

"Out of my way!"Cho pushed past Huirre and slammed both fists down against the air lock's inner hatch. Once. Twice. "Get this thing open! Now!"

"I'm trying, Captain!" He could hear the whine of excuses in Dysun's voice. He should never have brought her and her thytrins on board. "But with it slaved to the outer hatch…"

"I don't fukking care! Get. It. Open!" He couldn't hear anything from the ore docks. Not fighting. Not her boots against the deck coming closer.

"You okay, Captain?"

He turned on Huirre, pleased to see his nose ridges snap shut as he backed up. "Where the fuk were you?" he snarled.

"She killed Doc! I wasn't fukking facing her unarmed. I was going to bring you the tasik Doc dropped, but it wasn't working. I tried to get it working." Huirre glanced over his shoulder and pounded on the hatch, but Cho wasn't falling for that we're in this shit together crap.

"Liar! Coward!"

"You ran!" Huirre's lips drew back off his teeth. He glanced back toward the outer hatch. "Is she coming after you? The gunnery sergeant?"

"Shut up!" She wanted him dead. She was hurt, but that wouldn't matter. People like her, people like Doc, they just kept coming. "Dysun! Every second I'm in here, you lose ten percent of your share!"

The inner hatch opened.

Yeah, that lit a fire under her ass. "Close everything and get to your board. You, too!" Cho turned far enough to see Huirre slinking out of the air lock. "And later, when this is over…" He layered enough menace into the pause to keep Huirre's nose ridges closed, then he pivoted on one foot and ran for the control room. "Move, damn it!"

Behind him, he heard Dysun ask about Doc.

"Dead," Huirre told her.

Dead. Big Bill thought he was winning, but he was wrong. There was an oldEarth saying, the bigger they were, the harder they fell and every species Humans had run into since hauling their asses into space had a variation on it. These sorts of sayings became universal for a reason, and Cho was going to fukking prove it.

Big Bill was going down! "Marines, we are leaving." Arm pressed against the broken rib, Torin struggled to match Craig's stride. He was making good time using the heel of his left foot, but pain of impact was easier to ignore than a potentially punctured lung.

Not a competition, Torin reminded herself silently. It didn't matter if Craig ended up carrying her the rest of the way to the lockers as long as they both got there while breathing remained an option. "Werst, take the Star out; rendezvous by the ore docks!" *She's locked down, Gunny!*

Of course she was. "Ressk, you said if you took her out of Vrijheid's operating system, the station would kick her clear?" *Yeah, but when we detach from the station, proximity protocols will have the docking computer try and take control whether it has a record of us or not.*

And that would give Big Bill control of the Star. "Can you lock it out?" *Not without closing down communications.*

"What does… never mind." Torin raised a hand Ressk couldn't see. Explanations she wouldn't understand were explanations she didn't need to hear. "All right, shut down the comm. Then the gravity. Open the loading doors. Blow the Star free, then get in as close to the ore dock as you can. Mashona, get the grapples on the armory…" Mashona had never used a grapple gun, but she could blow the eye out of the Queen of Spades with anything else, so Torin had no concerns about her being able to fake it. "… and shoot one our way. We'll use it to get back to the lock."

"Roger, Gunny.* *Gunny,* Ressk broke in. "The Heart is armed.*

"Mashona, you're cleared to return fire." *With the cutting tool, Gunny?*

"No, open a window and throw empty beer pouches at them. Yes, with the cutting tool! It's a just a bennie with delusions of grandeur." *Roger, Gunny.*

"All right, people, you know what you're supposed to do. Get your thumbs out of your asses and do it!" *Meet you outside, Gunny.*

Torin lost the ping of the implants going off-line in her labored breathing. Civilian life had left her appallingly out of shape, but she managed to sound almost normal when she said, "Looks like we're on our own."

"About time," Craig snorted as they limped to a stop at the lockers. "Cramps my style when the kids listen in."

"You have a style?" Torin reached past him for the latch, but he stopped her, fingers closing around her jaw.

"Your head's still bleeding."

"It's a head wound. They do that."

"We need to…"

"Rip a piece off my sleeve."

"What?"

"We just need to stop it from dripping in my eye. Running out of time," she added when Craig opened his mouth to protest.

"Later," he muttered, grabbing the edge of damaged sleeve and tearing a strip free.

At this point, Torin figured later referred to enough that there was no time to expand on it. When Craig raised the fabric tentatively toward her face, she took it from him and pressed it down over the cut, the blood on the surrounding skin tacky enough to hold it in place.

He rolled his eyes and yanked the locker open. "This one was Nadayki's. This one… Doc's." His tone said he thought she'd have trouble wearing the latter suit.

She felt closer to Doc than she had to anyone since Craig had been taken.

"You're too tall for Doc's." Torin yanked the suit out of the fill niche and let it pool to the deck, the torso held more or less upright by the tanks. "Fuk. My boots…" Bending was pretty much out of the question.

Craig dropped to one knee and unfastened them. Torin resisted the urge to run her fingers through his hair.

She had hold of the locker, mostly to help her stay standing, when the gravity cut out. Anchored, she folded her legs up and shoved them into the rising suit. Teeth clenched, she started to twist, but Craig's hand crossed in front of hers, reached into the collar, and magged her boots to the deck. After that, it was as simple as getting into an HE suit with a cracked rib and four useless fingers.

At least no one was shooting at her, which made suiting up significantly more fun than on three previous attempts.

Just before she slid her good hand down the sleeve, she reached into the locker and touched the gray plastic suit mount. Her fingers brushed against Craig's as he did the exact same thing.

It felt like the first time she'd smiled in… several lifetimes.

Given the smile, their teeth cracked when Craig leaned forward and kissed her.

Emergency klaxons didn't so much shatter the silence as bludgeon it flat.

"Because I'm just that good," Craig murmured as he pulled away.

Torin bit her lip. Laughing now would shatter the tenuous grip she had on the gunnery sergeant, and her work wasn't done.

The crack of seals breaking, of atmosphere beginning to vent, caused a hindbrain response, but training kicked in before panic, and Torin had her helmet flipped up and sealed before the currents started pulling. Craig may have been born dirtside but he was station raised and had lived his life in space-odds were high he'd sealed his helmet even faster.

The inside of Doc's suit smelled like hartwood, a popular scent for men's toiletries back home on Paradise. At one time or another, both Torin's brothers had used it. She hadn't smelled it on Doc when she'd killed him.

The rush of escaping air had already begun to pull on the outside of the suit when Torin released one boot, twisted, bent her knee, and remagged it to the wall. It was a fight against the equalizing pressure to get the second up, but she managed. Body parallel to the deck, helmet pointed toward the opening doors, she turned her head to see Craig had assumed the same emergency position.

The boots were designed to hold even against an atmospheric pressure of 1.06 kilograms per square centimeter suddenly leaving the station.

Leg bones were not.

The decompression doors were about five centimeters apart, and there was still enough atmosphere in the ore docks that the slam of the wrench across the break rang out loud enough to be heard in spite of the rush of air and helmets. Eight centimeters apart when the first of the Grr brothers hit, nine for the second, ten by the time enough bones had broken to fit them both through the space. When Doc hit a moment later, there was almost no delay-Human bones being so much easier to break than Krai.

Torin felt the bulkhead shake as the armory slammed against the inside of the storage pod. Given that it was nearly as tall as the pod and taller than the door, it was, unfortunately, going nowhere without help.

"Should we be worried about that?"

It seemed Doc had been a little hard of hearing. Torin lowered the volume on his suit comm. "The ship it was on blew up around it. It should be able to survive this."

"Should?"

The doors were at the two-meter mark, and most of the atmosphere had vented. Torin released her boots, used her hands to push off gently, folded her feet under her as she came up on the vertical, and used her legs to shoot toward the ceiling and the cargo runners.

Craig was no more than a second behind her.

Unable to get to them from within, Big Bill would send ships. That was a given. He wouldn't let the armory go without a fight. What was also a given was that venting the volume of atmosphere in the ore dock was enough to force the station computers to make orbital corrections. While that was happening, the docking computer would lock down the clamps to minimize the variables. They didn't have much time; hopefully, they had enough.

Reaching the cluster of cables, Torin grabbed one and turned so her boots hit the ceiling. "Where the hell are the controls?"

"Here." Craig flipped the ten-centimeter disk on the end of a cable so Torin could see the controls on its top. "There's a manual fail-safe on each cable in case something takes out the central controls."

There was-had been-a war going on. Stations were prime targets.

"Flick the release," he continued, adding action to words, "Then push off toward the pod. The cable will scroll out with you."

"What happens if Big Bill cuts the power?" Torin asked as she followed him down.

"We're screwed, so let's hope he doesn't think of it." "Captain!" Huirre had both hands and a foot working his board. "The docking clamps won't release!"

"The docking computer is in lockdown, Captain. We can't access it."

We, Cho growled silently. Spreading the blame. He wanted to scream at Dysun to keep her fukking hair still.

"There's no way to get free of the station," she added.

"There fukking well is!" Cho slapped his palm down on his board. "Krisk! How much explosives do we have?"

"Why?"

"Why? So I can stuff them up your ass and detonate! Do we have enough to unlock the docking clamps?"

"We do." The engineer sounded bored. When they got out of this, Cho'd give him bored! "You could always use the emergency blow."

When Cho looked up, Huirre shrugged. "Use the what?" he demanded.

"It's a last resort in case the station gets attacked and is-oh, I don't know-falling out of orbit. It blows the ship away. Of course, it blows a fukking hole in the station and the atmosphere plus anything lying around loose vents right at the ship, so, like I said, last resort."

"Doors are almost all the way open, Captain." He could see from where he was sitting that Dysun had called up a new screen. So she wasn't completely useless. "The dock has lost atmosphere."

"Well, fuk it, if that's the case, use the blow. I'll send the command to your board. Hang on… Should be showing now."

"How do you know this?" How did he not know this? The Heart of Stone was Cho's ship. His. Not Krisk's.

The engineer snorted. "I helped design the fukking ship for the Navy, didn't I."

After this was over, he was going to have a talk with Krisk. Pry him out of his engine room and find out why he'd been hiding…

"Captain!" The hatch slammed against the bulkhead, and Almon charged into the control room. "Nadayki's not on board! He's still on the ore docks."

"Then he's dead," Cho said bluntly.

Almon's eyes darkened. "You left him there to die!"

Cho ducked the first wild swing, and then Nat appeared, nose streaming blood, and jabbed a trank into Almon's neck. He staggered sideways and hit the deck hard.

"Bastard slammed a pointy elbow in my face when I tried to stop him." Nat rolled him over with the toe of her boot. "My best guess is he'll be out for a couple of hours. What do you want me to do with him, Cap?"

"Drag him to his quarters and lock him in." Cho stared past Nat at Dysun. If he'd thought her fukking hair had been annoying before, now it was so agitated it seemed every hair moved independently. Her eyes were so dark no orange showed. "Big Bill vented the docks," he said. "Not me. You want to get back at him, avenge Nadayki, you stay at your station and we grab that armory and we come back weaponed up and kick his ass!"

Her hair slowed and her eyes lightened. "Your word that we come back."

"William Ponner thought he could take what was mine. Thought he could tell me what to do. No one does that."

Dysun stared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath and slid back into her seat. "Ready to blow the clamps, Captain."

"We'll make a pirate of you yet," Huirre snorted.

"Fuk you."

"In three, two, one!" Cho sent the codes.

The Heart of Stone shuddered, jerked… "What the hell?"

Torin dove behind the armory as bits of metal and plastic shot toward her. "The Heart just exploded the docking clamps and ripped away from the air lock."

"Last resort blow. So as not to go down with a damaged station."

Craig lived on his ship. He should know.

Torin ducked behind the armory, legs drawn up, as pieces of debris ricocheted back and found herself shoulder to shoulder with Craig. "You okay?"

"So far."

Yeah. She fukking hated zero G shrapnel in an enclosed space. "Question." They headed back to opposite sides as things cleared. "Is the Heart making a run for it, or lining up with the hatch to grab the armory?

"The Heart's armed, Torin. And Cho's got to be pretty pissed."

"So the odds are high he'll come back shooting. Let's get this thing clear!"

They'd had to tip the armory onto its side to get it out of the storage pod-the cables, fed around a rod lowered from the runners, were attached at the lower edge of the armory with magnetic pads, and then the cables retracted. It was bit like threading a needle with explosives. Once out, Craig began moving the rod, and the horizontal armory tucked up against it, toward the doors.

Torin would have been happy to just fling it toward open space, but neither the runners nor the cables were set up for that. Nor for speed, she growled silently emerging from yet another duck and cover. Ressk might be able to remove the safety protocols that kept them at a sedate crawl-weightless or not, the usual loads through here had sufficient mass to crush mere flesh and bone-but without Ressk on call, they needed to come up with another solution. "Leave the cables attached so that we have something to hold, but let them run free."

"Let the cables run free? You want us to drag this thing out of here by hand?" Craig sounded incredulous. "I know you hate to hear this kind of shit, babe, but we're neither of us in great shape."

Torin no longer felt an urge to comment on the endearment. "Cables have got it moving. Overcoming inertia, that's the hard part. Right now, we could both be missing a leg and still be able to move faster."

"Yeah, but…"

"The Heart's armed, Craig. And Cho's got to be pretty pissed."

"You're a hard person to argue with."

She could hear the smile in his voice, and her lips twitched in response. "You're not the first to say it."

It was going to hurt. Craig's foot. Her ribs. Not to mention assorted mutual bruising. But it was going to hurt a lot less than having either Cho or Big Bill reclaim the armory.

Hurt a lot less than being hit by one of the remaining chunks of blown docking clamp.

Running was an acquired skill in zero G, and the armory skewed slightly sideways as Craig struggled to keep up. Torin adjusted her rhythm, matched her pace to his, and noted silently that the exit was about three times wider than the height of the armory, so even if they went through spinning on the long axis, there'd be room. It'd be the next thing to a clusterfuk, but there'd be room.

"I'm not going to be happy if you puncture a lung."

"Me either."

Craig was panting. Or she was. The sound of labored breathing filled her helmet, hard to separate into his or hers. Hers might have been a bit wetter. In a military suit, like the one that had saved her life, she'd have hit the foam the moment they cleared the dock and immobilized the broken rib. Unfortunately, without that option, all she could do was clamp her arm against her body and tell herself she'd survived worse. Her right hand, swollen to fill the glove, had immobilized itself.

"Release the clamps on three," she called as they approached the edge of the ore dock. "One. Two. Three!"

As the cables retracted, Torin, Craig, and the armory shot out into space.

"There's the Star!"

"And there's the Heart." Twisting to look back at the station, Torin could see the flares of half a dozen ships. "Looks like the docking clamps have unlocked." "Captain! Seven-no nine-ships are launching!"

"ETA?" Cho snapped, hand clamped white-knuckled around the edge of his screen.

Huirre turned to stare. "ETA? They're right there!"

"Coat of Brown and Thegris Tay are powering weapons! No lock on us yet," Dysun added. "But it's a matter of minutes."

"Nat! Grapples out!"

"Almon was…

"Almon's unconscious, thanks to you! Get the fukking grapples on that armory!" Craig caught the line from the Star with one hand and Torin with the other as its movement whipped him past her. "Hang on! You can't do this with one hand!"

"Want to bet?" But he felt the tug as she grabbed his tanks and gave thanks she favored practical over posturing. "We're in Mashona's shot! Move!

"Mashona's is not the shot I'm worried about!" What looked like a Navy shuttle retrofitted for Susumi had a line on the Star, the armory, and, more importantly, the two of them. "Do not let that bastard get the armory!"

Confused, Huirre frowned. "What bastard?"

"Big Bill fukking William Ponner!" Cho snarled, on his feet. How the hell was he supposed to just sit there? He could slave the weapons screen to his board, but a good captain knew when to delegate to those who were more skilled. Who could blow those fukkers into their component atoms! "The ships out there are working for him, but right now, they're all yours!"

Huirre's nose ridges flared. He grinned and danced the fingers of both hands and the toes of his foot across the board. Instinct had Torin duck her head down in her helmet as the first energy burst flashed by. "I hate being shot at when I can't shoot back!"

"Good thing they're crap shots!"

"They're trying too hard not to hit the station." Well, Big Bill's ships were, she amended as a shot from the Heart left an elderly cargo vessel floating dead in space and another sent a di'Taykan design tumbling sideways. Problem was, no matter how good the gunner on the Heart might be, more and more ships were pulling away from Vrijheid and, in the end, numbers would tell.

Now she had more points of reference, Torin could see that they were moving toward the Star too quickly to be depending on Craig's pulling them in hand over hand. "The line…?"

"Is being rewound, yeah."

Unable to look back over her shoulder because of the suit, or twist because of her ribs, Torin searched for other lines coming from the ship, other lines that should be hauling in the armory, and couldn't see them.

"Brace for impact!" "Holy fukking shit, Cap! I got it! I got the fukking armory! First try!"

Cho's lip curled. It was a little fukking big to miss. "Roll it into the cargo bay while we move! Dysun, take the helm and get us out of here! Huirre, keep firing!" he yelled over his helmsman's protests. "Do not let those sons of bitches line up to get a shot at us!" "Because I was a little busy trying to keep this ship in one piece." Hands still working the board, Mashona glanced toward the air lock just long enough for Torin to see she wasn't going to apologize for not grappling the armory. "I could get you or the armory, Gunny. I chose you."

"Thank you." Craig already had his helmet down, lying against his tanks while Torin was still unsealing hers one-handed.

When it finally dropped, she shuffled toward the board, gravity making the suit one hell of a lot harder to drag around.

"There goes the Heart of Stone." His suit abandoned on the deck, Craig slid into the pilot's chair as Werst slid out, his hands dropping automatically to the controls. "They've got the armory."

Torin had seen Craig pilot the Promise through a swarm of enemy vacuum jockeys with pens extended and full of Marines. Seeing him at the controls now made her believe they still had a chance. "Go after them." "Captain! In another hundred meters, we'll be far enough out for them to target us with the station's gun!"

The station only had one gun, but it was a big one. Originally from a battleship, rumor was Firrg had taken it from a salvage operator in Krai territory and sold it to Big Bill for enough to rebuild her engines and supply her ship for a year. Cho didn't give a fuk about the rumor, but he'd seen a battleship's guns in action and a ship the size of the Heart would be vaporized by that kind of firepower. "Nat!"

"I'd like to not slam a big metal box full of weapons through the fukking ship, Cap!"

"Captain!" Dysun's voice had sharpened to near hysteria. "Fifty meters!"

"Speed it up, Nat. We can survive a few dents!" He dropped back into his chair and pulled up the Susumi equations. "Get ready," he snarled at Dysun and Huirre. "You'll lock your boards on my signal. The moment the armory is on board, we'll fold."

And if the Susumi vortex pulled apart the nearer half of Big Bill's fleet, then that would teach the son of a bitch to try and bring down Mackenzie Cho. "He's got his Susumi engines on-line!" Craig's fingers danced over the board and, under the touch of an experienced pilot, the Star responded by leaping forward and closing the distance to the Heart.

"Gunny!" Mashona shifted the aft screen up where everyone could see it. "We're in range of the station's guns… right… now!"

Torin stepped out of the HE suit, leaving it lying on the deck like another body. "Fortunately, in order to hit us, they'd have to shoot through a crowd of their own ships."

One of the ships directly between them and the station's guns flared and disappeared.

"I think they're good with that, Gunny," Ressk pointed out.

Star fields tipped as Craig took evasive action. "We need to get out of here."

"Not without the armory." Teeth clenched, Torin shouldered her way into the crowd around the board and pulled up the long-range scanners. "The Heart's grapples have pulled the armory to the cargo doors." She slid her thumb across the board, shifting programs between the dedicated stations. "I've slaved the scanners to the cutter. Mashona, can you hit it?" Mashona had been the best sniper Sh'quo Company had ever seen.

"Hit the armory with a cutter this size? Gunny, it'll…"

"I know." Torin met Mashona's eyes. "Can you hit it?"

"Yes, Gunny."

"Do it!" She snapped the order out with all the force of Gunnery Sergeant Kerr behind it. Her responsibility.

Lower lip caught between her teeth, Mashona bent over the controls. Training had her draw in a deep breath and hold it, settling into a moment of perfect stillness before she fired. "Cargo doors are closing, Cap!"

"Ha!" Cho entered the Susumi equation and sat back. "We…" The front port polarized as the Heart of Stone exploded, but it wasn't quite fast enough to keep the sudden blast of light, white in the center and blue around the edges, from burning into Torin's retinas. Hand gripping the back of Craig's chair, she blinked away afterimages and tried to keep from feeling triumphant.

Because the feeling had very little to do with keeping the armory out of the hands of pirates and a great deal to do with the knowledge that Mackenzie Cho had just been reduced to his component parts.

"I'm not reading debris!"

"There is no debris!"

"What the fuk was in that thing?"

Mackenzie Cho had just been reduced to his component parts on a subatomic level.

Torin felt Craig's hand cover hers and squeeze. He thought he understood. Maybe he did. One more thing on the list of things they should probably talk about.

He snatched his hand away as the view suddenly went completely opaque. Before he could get his hand back on the board, the radiation wave hit.

And the board died.

"On the bright side," he muttered, hooking his thumbnails under the inert edging and popping it off. "There's no debris. Torin, my…"

"Tools." She nodded her thanks to Werst and passed them forward.

"What are the odds the blast took out the ships behind us?" Werst growled.

The Star bucked forward.

"Fuk!" Craig spat the word out. "Feels like we just lost one of the lateral port thrusters!"

"You can tell that from the feel?" Mashona had her hands in place to turn the cutter and fire the moment the board came back.

Craig twisted far enough to grin up at Torin. "Not the first port thruster I've lost in a firefight."

"At least Werst and I are inside this time."

"View was better outside," Werst muttered.

"And you're insane. Move," Ressk added to Mashona. He shoved her out of her seat and slapped his slate down on the board.

"We can't fly with a slate!" Mashona protested, reaching over the chair to keep her hands by the cutter's dead controls.

"But when Ryder has the power back up, I can reroute past damaged parts of the board with it!" Ressk told her.

The Star shuddered. Inertial dampers went off.

"Helm's back. Ressk get the rest. I need eyes aft!" Craig dropped the ship straight down. "I can't avoid what I can't see."

Werst ducked under Torin's arm to hold Ressk in place as he worked his slate with his hands and the board with his feet.

Pieces of metal rang against the upper hull.

This time when Craig twisted to look up, Torin reached out and twisted him back toward the board. "What the hell…?"

"Missile debris," she told him.

"Detonated early," Werst added. "Someone's mounted an XR779 externally."

"Sounded more like a 778," Torin said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, well, either way, Navy needs to keep better track of its toys."

"Not arguing."

"You two are fukking nuts," Craig muttered.

"Comm's back!" Ressk yelled, all four extremities still working.

"Screens or weapons, Ressk." Mashona bumped him with her shoulder. "Why the hell were you working on communications?"

"I wasn't. Came back on its own."

"Nav would be useful." Craig swept two fingers across the screen, fast to the right. "Hang on…"

Torin nearly landed in his lap as the Star swung hard to starboard and up on a forty-five-degree angle. The front port was still too dark for stars, but she thought she could see the streaks from an energy weapon move diagonally past. Past was good.

Wait…

"If nav isn't up, and you can't see forward, how are you steering this thing?"

Craig shrugged. "Space is big."

"Yeah, and remarkably full of shit. Ressk!"

"Working on it, Gunny! Nav is… shit!" He slammed his fist down on the board. "Life support is out!"

"What?"

"It's okay! It's back." The first two toes of his right foot tapped out a syncopated rhythm, and a screen popped up. "There's the aft view."

"Screen's got to be burnt!" Mashona protested as everyone stared at the clusters of lights. "Because if those are all ships…"

Torin snorted. "Big Bill offered a station discount to whoever takes us out."

"Fifteen percent off," Craig added, throwing an arm around her hips and pulling her against his side.

Mashona frowned at the scrolling data. "At least the station seems to have stopped shooting."

"Yeah, well, I imagine it's bad for business to blow up too many of your customers."

Nose ridges flared, Werst had a hand cupped around the back of Ressk's head, thumb scraping small circles through the bristles. "We are so screwed."

"This is the Confederation battleship Berganitan. Stand down!"

"Or not." Ressk scrambled for the volume.

Mashona expanded the aft screen. "They're scattering."

"But they are not going to be going far, so I are suggesting you are getting yourselves the hell out of here!"

"Presit!" Torin touched the camera still attached to her tunic with the heel of her injured hand.

Craig felt his brows rise pretty much free of any conscious involvement in the motion. "Presit?"

"You are thinking Torin are able to save you alone? Well, you are being wrong.

"Wait. You and Presit?"

Torin's smile looked almost fond. "Turns out we had something in common."

He was fond of the little furball himself, but Presit didn't… Right arm still holding Torin close, he reached across his body and wrapped his left hand around Torin's wrist, pulling her hand away from one of the fasteners on her tunic. "That's a camera? That's an illegal camera."

"So not the time to worry about that," Mashona murmured.

Craig ignored her. "You were filming for Presit? On the station?"

"Although I are not getting visuals when she are wearing the suit," Presit answered before Torin could.

Torin sighed, and Craig suddenly realized just how much of her weight she was resting against him. Her eyes, or at least the one eye not swelling shut, looked as tired as he'd ever seen them. "It's a long story."

"And there are being no time to tell it now. Merik are sending equations to station where Wardens are waiting!"

"Oh, I just bet they're still waiting," Torin growled. "God forbid they should actually do something."

"I are still recording."

"I are not giving a crap."

Smiling, although damned if he knew why because they were deep in crap whether Torin cared or not, Craig let his left hand fall back to the board. "Ressk…?"

"Diagnostics are back. I've adjusted the parameter equations for damage taken."

Hoping Merik was Presit's pilot and not her PR flunky, Craig added the equation for the destination to Ressk's adjusted equation for the Second Star and brought the Susumi engines on-line.

"Merik are saying it are being a good idea to get your thumb out. Although everyone who are watching my vids are knowing that where Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr are being, the Berganitan are being, too, we are not exactly looking like a battle cruiser if they are running long-range scans"

Resisting the urge to cross his fingers, Craig punched it.

"Five-day fold," Ressk announced.

"Then I think you'd better sit down, Gunny."

Craig glared Werst away from Torin's other side. "I've got her, mate."

"You're not exactly in great shape yourself," the Krai snorted.

The reminder made everything ache as he stood. "I'm good for this."

"She's got herself," Torin muttered but Craig noticed she didn't fight him as he half carried her across the cabin. They needed this. Needed the contact. He eased her into the bunk-a temporary measure, he'd be commandeering the Star's three-by cabin for the two of them as soon as he had looked at her injuries.

"Ow." She caught at his hand as he tried to pull the piece of fabric off her forehead.

"Fine. I'll get a damp cloth and soak it free, you big baby."

Ignoring their audience-Ressk, at least was trying to look like he wasn't watching them-Craig limped across the cabin and opened the hatch to the head.

The young di'Taykan sitting on the closed toilet blinked pale eyes, yawned widely, and muttered, "It's about fukking time. Who the sanLi are you?"

Backing up a step, Craig closed the hatch again. Took a deep breath and turned toward the bunk. "Torin, why do we have a di'Taykan in the head?" "… and while it is true that you have gathered enough information that the Law.."

Years of practice allowed Torin to remain expressionless at the Warden's emphasis. If the Law hadn't been sitting on its furry ass, the pirates would have been dealt with and Craig would never have been taken.

"… has now moved forward and, working with the both branches of the military has all but eliminated this threat to peace and security in the sector of space shared by Vrijheid Station and, in point of fact, regained Vrijheid Station itself and prosecuted the one who created the false impression it had been destroyed…" One Who Examines the Facts and Draws Conclusions frowned. Torin suspected he'd gotten lost in his own rhetoric. He shifted slightly, highlights rippling across red-brown fur, and continued before the Niln sitting to his left could interrupt. "It is, however, undeniable that you, in the process of rescuing Civilian Salvage Operator Craig Ryder and preventing a certain criminal element from gaining control of a Marine armory, broke a number of Confederation laws. While the deaths of ex-Private Reerir, ex-Private Tirrik, and ex-Lieutenant Commander Doctor Christopher Stephens could be considered self-defense…"

"And have been judged to be self-defense," Colonel di'Gui Salarji pointed out.

One Who Examines shifted his gaze off Torin and onto the lawyer the Commandant of the Corps had assigned her back before the judgment began. "Yes," he agreed ponderously although, in all honestly, Torin had to admit that ponderously was the Dornagain default so she shouldn't read anything into it. "These three instances have been judged to be self-defense, but there remains the assault of the civilian di'Carnibi Nia, abetting the illegal system tap…"

The colonel snorted. "An illegal tap in order to bring down an illegal system."

"Breaking the law to assist the law is still breaking the law, Colonel," Nawazinkah Huerzah pointed out, inner eyelid flicking across both eyes. "If the end is permitted to justify the means, chaos results."

Lanh Ng, the first Human Warden, appointed to ensure Torin's species rights were represented during judgment and clearly less than thrilled by One Who Examines' need to recap the entire proceedings, seemed revitalized by Nawazinkah Huerzah's interruption. He straightened and said, "Look, the decision of the Tribunal's been made, so can we stop arguing about the minutia and get this over with?"

One Who Examines turned and stared down at him. "Minutia makes up the Law."

Ng settled back in his chair and sighed. "Carry on, then."

"As we have not yet completed our business, I will." One Who Examines faced front, opened his mouth, and paused.

"Abetting the illegal system tap," Nawazinkah Huerzah prodded, perfectly deadpan.

"Yes. Also in the issuing of the order to fire on the armory that resulted in the destruction of the Heart of Stone and the deaths of ex-Lieutenant Mackenzie Cho, di'Berinango Dysun, di'Berinango Almon, Natalie Forester, Huirre…"

For a moment, it seemed he might continue with the Krai's full name. Krai family names were declarations of lineage and could go on for hours. Torin wasn't the only one relieved when he continued.

"… and the engineer, Krisk."

Colonel Salarji stepped forward, putting herself between Torin and the Tribunal. "The Confederation Marine Corps takes responsibility for those deaths as ex-Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr was acting on the Corps' behalf in keeping a sealed armory out of the hands of the criminally insane."

One Who Examines spread his hands, blunt claws clicking against the table. "And yet ex-Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr was not a member of the Confederation Marine Corps at the time."

"The Corps allows there is no such thing as an ex-Gunnery Sergeant."

Nawazinkah Huerzah's tongue flicked out, Ng covered his mouth, and One Who Examines sighed. "So I have heard. It is then the judgment of this Tribunal, particularly considering the extensive evidence presented by Presit a Tur durValintrisy, that all but the destruction of the Heart of Stone may be dismissed under the weight of extenuating circumstances. The destruction of the Heart of Stone is a matter for the Confederation Marine Corps to deal with as it, as a body, sees fit. This inquiry is complete."

Torin waited, standing at parade rest a pace behind the colonel's left shoulder as the Tribunal filed out. Then she waited a little longer as the colonel turned and stared, her eyes dark. Torin resisted the urge to reach out and touch the plastic stylus clipped to the side of the colonel's slate.

"Well, that's that," the colonel said at last "I'd advise you not miss any of your sessions with the Corps' psychologists. And not just for legal reasons."

"Yes, sir."

"Say the word, and the Commandant of the Corps will put you back in uniform."

"My regards to High Tekamal Louden, sir, but my vest is full."

Deep-green hair flicked forward as Colonel Salarji frowned, but after a long moment, she merely said, "Take care of yourself, Gunny."

"Thank you, sir."

Torin waited until she heard the hatch close behind the colonel before relaxing her position. She touched the place a casualty cylinder would rest in a combat vest and closed her eyes. She'd carry Doc out, but the others could go to Hell on their own.

Craig and Presit were waiting for her in the corridor.

Presit made high-pitched clicks as Torin moved into the circle of Craig's arms. Approval, disapproval-Torin neither knew nor cared. She hadn't exactly been under arrest while the Tribunal made its judgment, but with Craig under a separate judgment-that took about fifteen minutes to clear him of any responsibility-the Wardens had insisted they be kept apart.

All things considered, Torin figured she was entitled to a moment, so she buried her face in the curve between Craig's neck and shoulder, breathed in his familiar scent, and hung on tight.

"You okay?" His mouth against her hair, his voice was a soft burr of vibration she felt as much as heard.

"Got offered my old job back. Didn't take it," she added when he stiffened. "And the colonel warned me not to skip out on any therapy."

His laugh held a touch of bittersweet. They'd actually crossed a number of things off the we need to talk about this list during the five-day Susumi fold to the MidSector station. "That's one smart colonel."

"Are you two being done with the touching?" Presit snorted, poking Torin in the hip with a claw. "There are still being more documentation to be signing, and I are having better things to be doing than waiting around here to be acting as your witness. I are having awards to be winning."

When Torin turned, Presit had her muzzle raised, teeth very white against the black of her lips. "You got the interview with Big Bill."

"I are having the exclusive," Presit bragged as the three of them started down the corridor. By the time the Navy had reached Vrijheid, most of the pirates had scattered. William Ponner had refused to leave the station, his station, and had been taken. "He are being most cooperative and are being willing to identify those who are have been using his station."

"Fifteen percent of them, anyway," Craig said dryly.

"You are not being funny," she snapped. "Remember, I are having to be turning over to the Wardens everything Torin are having shot for me on the station…"

"It was an illegal camera."

"It are having been an illegal station!" Presit extended her protest all the way down to the station's financial office, covering the failures of media law, media ethics, and the personal failure of Sector Central News to defend genius.

"You sure about this?" Craig asked, thumb running along the inert plastic trim of the desk as the financial officer sent the final numbers to their slates.

Torin shook her head. She didn't know how Craig had got the idea she didn't want to be paid for risking her ass for the greater good. It was how she used to make a living after all. "I'm sure."

The mining cartels that had lost ore drones to the Vrijheid pirates had put together an obscenely large reward. Presit had skimmed a little off the top, but the rest was Torin and Craig's to divide as they saw fit.

"And you're sure that's all you want?" Torin asked the reporter, thumb over the screen.

"Any more," Presit sniffed, indicating that Torin should close the deal, "and I are being in danger of losing my status as being an objective observer."

"And you've already made close to this by licensing an interview you haven't shot yet," Craig pointed out.

"I are having to overpay staff," Presit told him, silvered claws glittering as she waved him off. "It are not like I are spending it all on manicures."

Craig added his thumbprint beside Torin's, then Presit added hers to the master file, and a sizable portion of the reward disappeared to cover bills already incurred.

"Easy come, easy go," Craig sighed as they stood.

"You think that was easy?" Torin snorted. Craig grinned, and they both let their fingers linger over the plastic switch cover as they left the office.

"You are letting me know the next time you are riding to the rescue," Presit said as they walked her to the first vertical. "I are being there."

Torin closed her hand around Craig's. "There won't be a next time."

Presit paused at the hatch, head cocked, Torin's reflection in her mirrored glasses. "Not like this, I are hoping for that, too. But…" She waited until a pair of Rakva exited, chattering about yeast cakes, then her ears flicked forward. "I are not doubting that there are being a next time of some kind. You two are not being destined for having a quiet life."

"You think Presit's right?"

"About us not being destined for a quiet life?" Torin shrugged. "I think precedent agrees with her. I'm not sure I do."

None of the verticals in Admin went all the way to the docking level, so they found one that descended as far as the atrium, shared one strap, and ignored the glances and giggles from rising office workers. Given that more rumors had been generated in verticals than in bars, they maintained a companionable silence until they flipped out into the three-story open area at the center of the station.

A few people might have recognized them, but the size of the station and the crowds granted a certain anonymity.

"If Presit is right," Craig said thoughtfully as they crossed to the vertical that would take them to the lower levels. "I don't want to be seen as the victim next time."

"You got grabbed and tortured by pirates," Torin pointed out.

"Sure, but I delayed the opening of the armory. You might not have gotten there in time if I hadn't."

"True."

"So let's not do that again."

"Deal."

They walked another couple of meters in silence, then Craig let out a breath Torin hadn't realized he'd been holding and said, "You know, I was thinking just before Presit showed up pretending to be the Berganitan that we needed a miracle, and I half thought that…"

When his voice trailed off, Torin had no difficulty finishing the sentence. "You half thought that Pedro and the rest would have realized they were wrong, that they should have listened to me and come after you, that at the last moment, a ragtag fleet of salvage ships would blast out of Susumi and wreck vengeance on the pirate fleet that dared to go after one of their people."

He half laughed as they detoured around a cart selling fake H'san ceramics. "Yeah."

"Me, too."

"I figured, given your reference to a ragtag fleet and all." After another half dozen steps, he added, "That's not who they are."

"They?"

Craig threw an arm around her shoulders. "Seems like it might be who I am. And don't worry, I'll get your pension back from Pedro when we return the Second Star."

Torin hadn't been worried. She looked forward to facing Pedro and the rest with Craig at her side.

As they reached the verticals, he turned to face her, mouth twisted. "I would have gone after him."

"I know."

Werst, Ressk, Mashona, and Alamber were waiting for them in the Legless Worm.

"Did they just randomly cram two words together to name this place or what?" Torin muttered, sliding into a seat. She picked up the six-centimeter plastic KC-7 that had clearly come out of Alamber's glass and had probably once skewered a piece of fruit. She thought about asking what the hell he was drinking, and decided she didn't want to know.

"Promise is almost ready to go." Torin's slate pinged as Ressk sent over the specs. "All the damage has been repaired, and the new quarters have been added where the pens were. Just the new converter to hook up, and we're good."

She scrolled through the schematics and turned to look at Craig in the chair beside her. "So we're really going to do this?"

It hadn't been that long ago that sharing the limited resources of a tiny one-man ship had given Craig panic attacks. Space was unforgiving, and he was used to being alone. But then, the Promise wasn't a tiny one-man ship anymore. And he wasn't alone.

He took a long swallow of the beer just set down in front of him, and nodded. "We're really going to do this."

The Wardens had brought the Promise to this MidSector station as evidence. It had been pure dumb luck that the station included the sector's second largest dockyard. The Wardens had been convinced to pay to have the aft end of the Promise extended and a shuttle pad added because the Wardens had decided to put them to work.

"It appears to be obvious, ex-Gunnery Sergeant Kerr, that the end of the actual hostilities with the Primacy, regardless of how much fighting continues to occur, has created social voids that we as a government organization are not equipped to investigate. Speed of investigation appears to be becoming essential when gathering certain facts for later deliberation. When you are finished with this inquiry, we have an offer for you and your companions."

"And we're really going to do this," Craig continued, "because I got the impression it wasn't an offer any of us would be permitted to decline."

"Good point," Torin admitted, raising her glass.

"Any of us?" Alamber leaned back, all loose limbs and promises, but Torin could see the insecurity under the more di'Taykan than thou posture. He had no family, they'd destroyed the life he'd managed to find for himself, and he desperately needed somewhere to belong. Someone to tell him what to do.

For her own peace of mind, Torin planned to wean him off the latter need as soon as possible. "I'm not turning you loose, Alamber. So, yeah, any of us."

Craig's shoulder bumped hers. "Are we ready for children?" he sighed.

Alamber's eyes lightened even further. "I was thinking three-some."

"They're really not ready for that," Werst snorted.

Torin threw the plastic KC-7 at him.

He snatched it out of the air with a foot and threw it back. "Your round, Gunny."

Torin beckoned the server over but kept the little plastic gun when he cleared the glasses. Her assigned Corps therapist would probably have a field day about how much more comfortable she felt having even a pretend weapon close to hand.

"So…" Alamber took a long swallow of his new drink, the same pale blue as his hair. "I keep meaning to ask, back on Vrijheid, I know Big Bill had the docking clamps locked, so how did you really break your ship free of the station?"

"Easy." Ressk looked pleased with himself, but Torin figured he had the right. "First, I disabled the proximity alerts, then I removed her from the sysop, and the station kicked us free."

Alamber shook his head. "Uh-uh. I know that story, but you're totally talking through your ass if you expect me to believe it. Big Bill had sleeper programs in place to prevent that." Generally, it wasn't easy to spot a di'Taykan rolling his eyes, but Alamber made the motion obvious. "Come on, seriously, it's not like you were the only ones there with brains. Big Bill was an ass but a clever one."

"Yeah, but…"

"No but." Alamber pulled out his slate. "Link up. I'll sketch out the defense programs, then you tell me how you got past them."

They all watched silently as Ressk stared down at his screen. "That isn't…"

"I'm not done," Alamber sighed. "Keep your boots on." He sketched with the back of a painted fingernail instead of a stylus. "There. You know, roughly."

Ressk's nose ridges actually fluttered as they opened and closed. "He's right."

"Of course I'm right."

"I didn't even see that code. The docking clamps shouldn't have released." Ressk didn't look pleased with himself anymore. If Torin had to name his expression, she'd say freaked covered all bases.

"Yeah, but they did," Werst reminded him.

"So the question becomes how did they release?" Mashona drained her glass and added, frowning, "Or maybe the question is why."

"Way I see it…" Alamber snapped his slate back onto his belt. "… the only way you…" He paused, his hair flicked forward. "… we could've gotten free was if there was what amounted to a physical failure of a part of the clamp at exactly the time you needed it to give way. Exactly. Bottom line, you guys… us guys…"

"We." Mashona held his gaze until he nodded.

"Okay. We were either a part of the biggest fukking coincidence ever or we have the kind of luck that says we're loved of the gods."

"What gods?" Werst wondered.

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Torin looked down at where the little plastic KC-7 had been. Then she checked the floor in case she'd knocked it off the table. "Alamber, what were those docking clamps made of?"

"What were they made of? Same thing every other docking clamp is made of. Metal. Ceramic. Plastic." He looked around the table, eyes darkening. "What?"