A truth of Valor

SEVEN

"If we were going in, guns blazing…" "We have guns?" Ressk asked Mashona quietly. She slid the case of food into storage and smacked the top of his head.

"… that would be different, you'd be as welcome to join us as you would be in a war zone."

Werst snickered.

"If we could insert the team undetected," Torin continued, ignoring him, all her attention focused on convincing Presit she wasn't going in with them, "again, no problem. But the only plan we have to get Craig out alive is to pretend we're something we're not and you're too well known."

"I are not pretending to be something I are not!" Presit declared, drawing herself up to her full height.

"I wouldn't ask you to." Years of similar conversations with officers kept Torin's voice level. "You're our backup. Once we're in, if we run into trouble, we'll need a distraction. Something to keep them off-balance. That's when you signal the station, say you tracked my ship and…"

"And you are not telling me how to do my job," Presit snapped. "Why are we not being a ship you are having captured? We are tracking you and you are capturing us; that are proving you are being pirates."

"They could demand we kill you to prove we've crossed the line."

"As I are understanding it-as you are having been telling me," she added before Torin could interrupt, "the pirates are being more thieves than murderers."

"Other salvage stations may have lost personnel. These pirates may have been killing for some time."

"Then wouldn't the surviving salvage operators have been reporting them to the Wardens?"

"Maybe. But the odds are as good they didn't; Station 24 didn't report Jan and Sirin's deaths. You were there when…" Her nails were too short to cut into her palms, but Torin could feel them pressing against the skin. "You know the salvage operators are independent to the point of isolationist. We know one set of pirates kills without hesitation. We can't know how many more do."

"Fine." Presit combed her ruff with one hand. "I are holding back until you are needing a distraction. But you are carrying a camera." She thrust an imperious hand at Ceelin.

He shot an apologetic glance at Torin as he laid a disk about the size of Torin's smallest fingernail on Presit's palm. Matte black, if not for the gold edging, it would have been almost invisible against Presit's skin.

"It are having been designed to look like fasteners what are having been fashionable last season. In fact, it are looking like the fasteners on both tunics and the sweater I are having had Merik pick up for you."

"You didn't need-" Torin began.

Presit cut her off. "You are having only the clothing you are standing up in. Everything else are still being on the Promise. Also, I are knowing you. That are making me certain from the beginning that you are not allowing what you are seeing as a civilian to be going into danger. But you are also promising me a story, so I are being prepared. I are willing to have my ship be waiting at the edge of its range," she declared, holding the camera up to Torin. "But that are as far as I are willing to be from the action."

"A camera that size is against the law, and…"

Presit cut her off again. "Pirates are being very much against the law. Theft are being against the law. Murder are being against the law. I are willing to be your backup, but I are not taking a chance that you are being unable to be calling when you are needing me."

Torin heard one of the Krai move, heard Mashona murmur something, and tried to unsuccessfully look past her reflection in Presit's glasses. She looked like shit. After a long moment, she nodded, held out her hand for the disk, and flipped it over to Ressk.

"They'll monitor signals in and out of the station," he said, pressing the disk into his slate. "You don't successfully hijack a government station without being paranoid as all fuk. Question is, do they monitor all frequencies and, more importantly, are they monitoring this frequency? This thing has its own DSP with one fuk of a high compression rate and then it embeds the transmission steganographically in what looks like static, sending stored information out at random intervals."

"But…"

"Random is better," he interrupted, apparently getting the gist of Werst's protest from the single word. "A constant signal is more than likely to be artificially generated and therefore worth monitoring; it will attract attention. The question is…" He looked up at the reporter, nose ridges flared. "… why would you even have this technology?"

Presit flicked her ears. "If it are in a large enough case that are marked with a network signal, it are fully legal."

"So you pulled this out of his case?" Ressk demanded, glancing over at Ceelin, who was doing a good job of hiding his opinion behind his dark glasses and under the thick mask of his fur.

"Don't be being ridiculous."

"You happened to have it handy?"

"I are being in a very competitive business," Presit told him dryly.

"But…"

She cut him off. "Are I asking you to be telling me all your secrets?"

"If we carry this, you're going to know them," Ressk pointed out.

"No, I are going to know hers." She nodded toward Torin. "And if they are monitoring signals, then how are you thinking you are going to signal me without they are knowing? This way, I are knowing, they are not."

"Well?" Torin held out her hand, and Ressk tossed the camera back.

"She has a point." He frowned, hung up in the syntax. "I think."

"All right." Torin looked past Presit to Merik. "Err on the side of caution when adjusting your equations…"

"Wait!" Presit grabbed the front of her sweater. "Adjusting what equations?"

"There's a good chance the station will monitor Susumi portals. Even if Merik thinks he can tag in through the same portal…"

Merik waved a maybe, maybe not.

"… they'll pick up the second ship. You need to emerge outside their sensor range. If Merik believes he can bring you closer without discovery, that's up to him

Prest adjusted her glasses. "In the interests I are having of not being killed, I are willing to be sneaking up on the station until we are blazing in to be saving your collective asses."

"Good." Torin moved her toward the air lock. "Werst, inform the station sysop we're ready to release. Merik, you have the final word on how close you can safely move in. Don't let Presit pressure you."

"I are also interested in not being killed," the pilot told her as he followed Presit into the air lock. "Don't worry, I are more interested in surviving than I are in having a story."

"You are remembering you are working for me," Presit snapped.

He flicked his ears. "Not if you are being dead."

Torin hit the controls and realized she was going to miss, not Presit exactly but, at the very least, the reporter's annoying ability to drag her out of her own head. "You're part of this story, Presit. That changes things. Don't forget that."

"I are having downloaded some games for you!" Ceelin called out as Presit waved off Torin's comment and the air lock's inner door shut.

"Station says we have a green on go." His foot against the control panel because he couldn't reach the deck, Werst pivoted the second chair around to face the cabin. "When the air lock reseals, the docking computer will take control."

"You have a plan, Gunny?" Mashona asked from the bunk. "Something with a little more detail than the lot of us pretending to be pirates?"

Torin dropped into the pilot's chair, back straight, refusing to relax. She had no one to relinquish control of the situation to. "Not really."

"Well," Ressk said slowly after a long moment where the only sound was the muffled thud of the clamps releasing, "it has the benefit of simplicity."

"We've got a four-day fold to Vrijheid," Torin reminded them. The ship seemed significantly larger without Presit on board. Without Presit, she'd lost another connection to Craig. "We have time to refine it."

"And time for you to tell us why you're pink. Pinker," Werst amended. "But he was fine!"

"No, he was functioning. Not the same thing." Doc turned from the screen, folded his arms, and stared up at Nadayki. Who took a step back, his hair flattening against his head.

From where Craig lay on the examination table, it looked like the kid was actually scared-in spite of having an extra twenty centimeters in height and the di'Taykan pheromone advantage-rather than merely giving way to a stronger personality. He adjusted his opinion of Doc a little further toward the unstable end of the scary, bugfuk crazy spectrum.

"Well, if he was functioning before," the young di'Taykan all but whined, "can't he function again?"

"Depends. How fond are you of being puked on?"

Nadayki took another step back. "Not much."

"Then learn to get the hell out of the way," Doc told him, "because it's going to continue to happen at random intervals." He half turned toward Craig and indicated he could get up. "Short circuit, puke, collapse in pain. Rinse, repeat."

"Rinse?"

"Never mind. He'll also be unable to see yellow."

"Really?" Nadayki's eyes darkened as Craig searched the room for yellow and realized he could see it fine.

"No, I'm just fukking with you. You, Ryder…" Doc frowned as Craig moved carefully around the end of the table toward the door. "If your brain doesn't slag itself, you're likely to dehydrate so keep your fluids up."

"And how do I keep my brain from slagging itself?"

"Build a time machine, go back, and stay the fuk away from that poker game."

Considering how things had turned out, it wasn't bad advice. On the upside, random brain spasms were definitely going to slow things down. And how much shit was he in, that random brain spasms had an upside?

Nadayki wasn't happy about the pace Craig set leaving medical, but when Craig pointed out that a faster pace raised the odds of immediate puking, he decided to cope. He tapped a syncopated beat against the bulkhead as they moved and just as they approached the Heart's air lock, said, "There's a theory among the really out there experimental astrophysicists that, if the math is right, Susumi space can be used for time travel."

"Well, that's the trick, isn't it, kid; getting the math right."

"Stop calling me kid."

The air lock's inner lip seemed one hell of a lot higher than usual. Craig didn't so much step over it as lift one leg and then the other, maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the lock. He'd planned on exaggerating his condition as much as possible, but it looked like he might not have to.

"That's pathetic."

"Yeah, well, bitch to your thytrin. I didn't ask to have my brain scrambled."

"You tried to cut my leg off!"

"Don't rubbish me, mate, I'd just been shot and netted." Craig repeated the one leg at a time maneuver over the outer lip. "I'd have preferred to have cut your throat."

The expression on the kid's face suggested he'd never considered he might end up on the receiving end of the violence he helped dish out. "You fukking deserved to be zapped!"

"So live with the result."

They walked in silence for a few moments, about as long as Craig figured the di'Taykan could be silent. "I've applied your codes to the CSO's seal, but they only opened the upper levels. There's no pattern in the lower levels."

"No, you can't find a pattern in the lower levels."

"There is no logical pattern."

"You might be right. A CSO's seal is more art than science," Craig continued before Nadayki could protest the qualifier.

"That makes no sense."

"They tell me you're good with code."

"I hacked a defense satellite and had it burn Nadayki di'Berinango…"

Nine letters in his family name. Given that the Taykan social system favored those with the shortest names, it was no wonder the kid had turned to crime.

"… half a meter deep into the Prime Progenitor's lawn with a laser," he bragged.

Craig frowned. Didn't sound like much to be all big note about. "You signed your name?"

"I was making a point. They said it couldn't be done, and I wanted them to know who'd done it."

"And how'd that work out for you?"

"We got away," Nadayki pointed out smugly as they reached the storage pod and Nat stepped out of the shadows.

"About fukking time you got here," she muttered. "Cap says before you get started again, Ryder, you get to clean up the puke." She nodded toward the shovel leaning against the bulkhead next to a mop and bucket. "It's got kind of rubbery, so if you want my advice, start by scraping."

"I have to clean up my own chunder?"

Her brows rose, but she picked up the slang from context. "It's your puke, gorgeous. Who the hell else is going to clean it up? At least I opened up the maintenance station and got things ready for you. Deodorizer's already in the water."

Since his original plan of staying alive until Torin got him out had turned into the slightly more specific delay opening of the weapons locker until Torin arrived to neutralize the threat, Craig supposed that, on some level, he appreciated the delay involved in scrubbing dried vomit off the deck. But only someone stalling for time would accept the job without whinging. "Have Almon clean it up. His pathetic need to use the tasik as an auxiliary donger is the reason I chucked."

"Cap says you do it." Nat squeezed his shoulder, and he hoped it wasn't with the hand she usually used to scratch. "When you're done, get moving on those seals before he decides to encourage you by letting Doc take a pair of bolt cutters to your toes."

His toes curled under in his borrowed boots. She didn't sound like she was kidding. "In what universe is that encouraging?"

"The one where you don't want it to happen. So don't dawdle. Keep him up to speed, kid."

"Don't call me kid," Nadayki muttered.

"Oh, yeah. Put the larrkin in charge." Craig rolled his eyes as he picked up the plastic shovel and headed for the hatch leading into the pod. The shovel remained inert. If the fukking plastic aliens were still around, they had no sense of timing. "Kid's on the run for high-tech graffiti."

"He told you that, eh?" Nat sounded amused. "He tell you those lasers sliced and diced three people who just happened to be on the Prime Progenitor's lawn at the time?"

"No…" Craig glanced over at Nadayki who shrugged. "… he didn't skite about that."

Taykan noses were much more sensitive than Human noses.

Nadayki's reaction to the half-dried vomit nearly made the job worthwhile. The time he spent cleaning the chunky puddle off the deck was the longest Craig had ever spent with a di'Taykan without being propositioned.

"That wasn't exactly fast," he whined as Craig dumped the soiled water down the reclamation chute.

"Oh, yeah, because I like to take my time cleaning up puke."

Hand over his mouth and nose, Nadayki muttered, "Whatever. Can we get the fukking seal open now?"

"Don't get your panties in a knot, kid, I still have to wash the gear."

"Wash the… What the fuk for?"

"You want the smell to linger?" Ignoring the muttered response, he did a thorough job. Unfortunately, there was a finite time he could spend cleaning a shovel, a mop, and a bucket, slotting them back into their places, and closing the maintenance area down. Because the ore docks would be open to vacuum every time a carrier came up from the planet and loose items were dangerous, the lockers were built to withstand accidental decompression. Beside the maintenance area was a tool locker holding only a broken pipe wrench and seven identical screwdrivers. Beside that, an empty suit locker with space for six although only three hookups were live. Tucked into the far corner by the rear bulkhead was a hatch that led to an actual head.

If maintenance reclamation worked, then the toilet should, so Craig used it. And took his time.

Finally, after increasingly sullen reminders that toes weren't necessary to break code, Craig skirted the wet area of the deck and returned to the storage pod. Holding his borrowed slate up to the seal, he linked in. He gave half a thought to cutting the safeties in and blowing the armory, but he knew Torin was on her way and she'd be pissed if he died. His code opened the first level and slid them through the second. Then he watched the lines of new code scroll by and frowned.

"See!" Nadayki waved his own slate in front of Craig's face. "It makes no sense!"

"Sure it does. You can hack a defense satellite and slaughter three people, but you can't hack this seal."

Nadayki's eyes darkened as his lip curled. "What's your point?"

"Given that the point of a seal is to keep people out, an unhackable seal makes perfect sense."

After a long moment, the di'Taykan nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Yeah, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, you're right," he expanded reluctantly. "It does make perfect sense." His eyes had lightened but he still sounded sulky when he asked, "Can you get in?"

It came down to pulling out recognizable bits and building on them. Craig shrugged. "Won't be easy, but I know how CSOs think."

"They think? Really? I can get through the Marine seal, no problem," he muttered.

"Yeah, well…" Craig patted the dent in the armory. "… not to knock your code fu, kid, but in my experience, Marines are a lot less complex." "So we're disillusioned and pretending to be pirates." Werst took a long swallow of beer and shrugged. "Should work."

Stretched out on the bunk in the cabin, one arm tucked up under her head, the other holding a beer of her own, Mashona asked, "How many of these pirates are you planning to kill, Gunny?"

Torin thought about the way Page had died. "As many as I have to."

"I'm not sure I can kill other people. Not anymore," Mashona added as Ressk glanced up from his slate and shot her a look. "War is different."

"What if those people are trying to kill you?" Werst wondered, picking the label off the beer pouch.

"That's different, too," Mashona acknowledged.

Ressk nodded. "They try to kill me, all bets are off."

"You three shouldn't have to kill anyone," Torin told them flatly. Ceelin had found her the original schematics of Vrijheid Station. They'd use Susumi time to commit as much of them to memory as possible. "If there's any killing to be done, I'll be doing it."

The other three exchanged a glance that held a whole conversation.

Werst gave it a voice. "We've got your six, Gunny."

"Why?" She hadn't planned on asking, but now it was out there. "You had lives and now…"

"I wouldn't say we had lives." Mashona swung her legs off the bunk and sat up. "We were all kind of drifting. We're used to being a part of something bigger, you know, and not having that anymore was… Well, it wasn't. I guess what I'm trying to say is you give us…" Mashona looked at Ressk. Ressk looked at Werst. Werst half shrugged, making the usual Krai cock-up of the movement. "… grounding. Direction."

But Torin had heard, Something to believe in… in the pause. "It's difficult to make plans until we know what's actually in the locker," Big Bill said thoughtfully, indicating that Cho should sit. "But in order to expedite the eventual arming of the free merchants, I've made a list." He slid a piece of paper across the desk.

"A list?" Visitors to Big Bill's office deep in the center sphere of the station sat in chairs that were both closer to the ground than Big Bill's own and deliberately uncomfortable. Already fuming at being summoned like an erring ensign called before the officer of the watch, this lack of subtlety pushed Cho's mood further into the black, and he fought to keep his expression neutral.

"A list of who'll be willing to pay top dollar and potentially for what; where what is based on the content of the armories my boys remember from while they were in."

The Grr brothers had been in the Corps. Cho couldn't say he was surprised. "I've seen your type before, boy. You wanted Recon or Ranger, but you were too crazy even for those crazy fukkers." Page's voice in memory. "No one tried to convince you too hard to stay, after your first contract ran out, did they, boy? No, it was: so long, Private, have a nice life. Hell, have a shitty life, just have it away from us."

He wondered if that was where they'd met, brought together by sanctioned violence. Their own brutal tendencies honed and refined.

Well, as refined as a fondness for eating people alive got.

Rather than think about the screaming, Cho picked up the list. Big Bill was a manipulative son of a bitch but vested self-interest would see to it that Cho got the best price for his weapons. He attempted to think of the list as helpful instead of as an attempt to wrest away control. A really fukking annoying attempt. He frowned down at it.

"You can't hack paper," Big Bill told him, misinterpreting the frown. "Some smartass will find a way into the tightest system but that right there, you need eyeballs for that and eyeballs can be controlled. You remember not to leave it lying around where any idiot can read it, and it's about as secure as it gets. Helps, of course, that no one expects anything of import to be on paper these days. How much longer to get through the seals?"

Cho recognized the sudden change of subject as an attempt to throw him off his game. Yeah, like he'd let his guard down that much around a power-crazy fuk like Big Bill. "Ryder, the salvage op, is back at work."

"Good."

"Doc says his brain got a bit fried by the tasik when we brought him in."

"Doc would know." Even Big Bill was… maybe not cautious but definitely aware around Doc.

"It's slowed him down some," Cho continued, "but he's functional, and Nadayki reports they're making progress." Nadayki had reported nothing of the sort, but Cho had no intention of showing weakness of any kind. Even secondhand.

"Again, good." Big Bill's smile didn't reach his eyes. Didn't even reach his cheeks. Or any other body part. "But I asked you, how long?"

"No way of knowing."

"I see. As we have no idea what's in the armory, we have no idea how much you'll be paying me for the use of that storage pod. We don't know the specifics of my fifteen percent," he expanded when Cho frowned. "Given that, I'd like to know how long you plan on taking advantage of my generosity."

Slouching back in the chair, Cho hoped he looked like he didn't give a H'san's ass about eye lines or the unfortunate fact that his own ass was going numb. "Allowing me to use that pod is you minimizing the risk of blowing a hole in your station while still maintaining a certain amount of control over the contents of an armory you have no responsibility for. Length of time spent is irrelevant."

Big Bill stared across the deck at him, like he was actually seeing him for the first time in this conversation. "That's a valid point."

He made it sound like it was first valid point Cho had ever made in his hearing.

"Keep me informed." Eyes narrowed, Big Bill nodded toward the piece of paper. "Take the list with you."

Only a suicidal idiot would mistake that for anything but a dismissal.

By the time Cho had heaved himself up onto his feet, Big Bill had a channel open to what sounded like one of the shops in the Hub, enquiring about last quarter's drop in profits, and therefore a drop in his fifteen percent. As far as he was concerned, Cho had already left the room.

In the outer office the Grr brothers lay tangled together on a leather sofa, drinking sah and watching news vids, the big screen split into the top four networks. They'd been watching news vids when Cho went in to talk to Big Bill. And sure, he hadn't been in there long, but they'd been watching news vids every time he'd been called to the inner sanctum.

Could've been worse. Could've been a cooking show.

No surprise the little freaks didn't watch porn like normal people.

Craig could see that as far as di'Taykan went, Nadayki was a lime-green geek-and-a-half, but he was still a di'Taykan and di'Taykan were hardwired to default to sex. Sex seemed to be an obvious tactic to delay the opening of the seal, with the potential to be a repeat performer. As his stomach had steadied and the red-hot spikes were not currently being driven into his temples, Craig figured it made sense to get the initial encounter out of the way

"The thing with CSO codes," he said, looking up from his slate, "is that they're hard to put in and even harder to take out."

"Unless you know the sequence," Nadayki snorted, eyes locked on his screen, ignoring the potential for innuendo.

Craig fired off a second attempt. "Give us time and we'll get it off."

"Fukking right. There's no way some stupid scavenger is going to create a seal I can't break."

Any other di'Taykan would have made a proposition and started the foreplay by now. Raising his assessment of the kid to a geek-and-three-quarters, Craig upped his game.

The seal had been positioned in vacuum, which put it at an idiotically awkward angle with gravity applied. Upper body bent at about forty-five degrees, with the kid standing so close the movement of his hair kept Craig thinking of spiders and slapping at the back of his neck, it was easy enough to brush his ass to Nadayki's groin with every position shift.

And yeah, they still hadn't talked about where they stood with di'Taykan before the Heart of Stone had blown their lives apart, but Craig knew where Torin stood as far as staying alive went. She'd expect him to do what he had to. So, when Nadayki finally got with the program-and seriously, he had never expected to use the word finally when it came to a di'Taykan and sex-Craig responded with, if not enthusiasm, at least interest. First chance he got, he dialed the kid's masker back a couple of levels and enthusiasm became moot.

Then the kid decided to prove he could evoke the same response without the pheromone boost and Craig took back every disparaging thing he'd ever thought about geeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Nadayki muttered in Taykan against wet skin-maybe a description of the specific act or maybe bitching about the interruption, Craig had no idea and really, really didn't care-but kept going until Cho grabbed a handful of hair and yanked him back.

"No gods damned fukking on my time! I catch you again, and I'll have Doc cut your damned kayti off. And then I'll have Doc cut his off…" Half a dozen lime-green hairs floated to the floor as Cho released his hold and jabbed a finger toward Craig. "… and fukking feed it to you. Put your damned clothes on and get back to work!"

Craig had hoped Nadayki would argue, but the mention of Doc acted like a cold shower, and the kid complied without protest, his eyes pale, one hand rubbing at the side of his head. Di'Taykan hair wasn't actually hair. It was part of their sensory system, and losing some of it must've hurt like hell. Given three dead on the Prime Progenitor's lawn, Craig couldn't bring himself to care. Still… "You couldn't have taken another fifteen minutes to show up?" he grumbled, shooting the captain a disgruntled glare as he shrugged back into his overalls.

"You can fuk on your own time, Ryder," Cho snarled. "And your time is mine until that armory is open." He jerked his slate off his belt. "Huirre, get down to the locker."

"Now, Captain?"

"Yes, now!" Cho smiled unpleasantly. He jabbed a finger into Craig's chest. "I am warning you, do not fuk around on me. You forget why you're here while Huirre's watching and I'll let him pick a part to snack on." The jab became a shove.

Fingers curling into fists, Craig wondered how long it would delay things if he took a swing at the captain. Given the way he felt, he'd get the shit kicked out of him in any fight, but, hell, as long as he was alive when Torin found him, that only mattered in the short term.

Something in Cho's eyes stopped him. Something that said go too far and you'll be out the air lock wearing bruises and fuk all else.

Because the trick was to stay alive until Torin found him.

A second shove, to prove Craig wouldn't respond, then Cho backed up snarling, "Now, get back to work before I start carving bits off myself!"

"This is all your fault," Nadayki muttered sullenly as they bent over the seal again.

True enough. "Takes two to tango, kid."

"What the fuk is a tango? And stop calling me kid!" "What if Presit's little protege found the wrong Vrijheid Station," Mashona asked, saving one of Ceelin's games as the Second Star began her ten count before emerging into normal space.

"How many Vrijheid Stations that supposedly took a dirt dive during the war could there be?" Werst demanded from the second chair.

Mashona shrugged. "Space is big."

The stars reappeared.

"Ceelin found only one Vrijheid Station, and full disclosure laws give Presit access to government databases." Torin lifted her hands up off the control panel and started working the stiffness out of the fingers.

"She could be sending us on a fool's errand while she heads in to get the story," Ressk said thoughtfully, rubbing a thumb along the edge of his slate. "I mean, she said she knew you weren't going to let her join us. She could've set up equations to a different station and then faked her protests."

Werst shook his head. "You always this paranoid?"

He glanced over at Torin. "Just trying to cover all bases."

In the old days, being paranoid was a part of Torin's job. Now… "I trust her. I'm not one hundred percent positive she wouldn't screw me over, but she'd never risk Craig."

Mashona's brows rose and fell in exaggerated lechery. "You need to worry about her making moves on your man, Gunny?"

"Not everything crosses species lines, Mashona, di'Taykan excepted." Her response to Mashona's joking almost sounded normal. Under the circumstances, it was the best she could do.

"Gunny…"

Grateful for something to focus on, she gave Werst her full attention.

"At least some of the cark in this station will know you from Presit's vids."

"I'm counting on it. Me, and the three of you."

"Yeah." His nose ridges flared. "And they'll know Craig from that last vid."

"No, probably not. Like Presit said, he was behind the camera about ninety-five percent of the time, and when he wasn't, Presit was all but shooting up his nose. He had the beard then, and the edits…" Under the old adage of know thy enemy, she'd seen all the vids once. "… focus exclusively on the gray running out of his eyes." Sometimes she dreamed about the way the polynumerous polyhydroxide alcoholyde shape-shifting molecular fukwads had felt, slightly cooler than body temperature as they oozed out of her tear ducts. She'd wake up furious and have to leave the bunk before she took it out on Craig. Sometimes she wondered if it had felt the same to him, if he'd felt the same about it. After she got him back, she'd ask. Add it to the list of all the things they'd intended to talk about later. No more waiting for later. "Odds are good no one looked away from the emerging aliens long enough to identify him and, under personal privacy laws…" Which did not extend to members of the military under the full disclosure act. "… he was never identified by name."

"And Nat, the woman who…"

"The woman off the Heart who set us up for the ambush that took Craig," Torin growled. "I remember her."

"She saw you."

"Only for a minute, and she was paying no attention to me. Had her eyes on the game. The man who came into the bar with her, he might be a problem."

'The guy with the crazy eyes," Mashona put in.

"Yeah, him. But I'm not sure he saw me as an actual person-he threat assessed, he moved on. Who'd expect to see Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr on a half-finished OutSector station? I suspect that, as much as economic factors, was why Craig chose it. Here, at Vrijheid, who we are becomes the larger part of our reason for being here and being that obvious will act like camouflage; all they'll see is the obvious-not the people behind it and certainly not a specific person glimpsed for a few seconds in another part of space."

The three members of her assault team stared at her for a long moment. Finally, Ressk said, "Maybe you could change your hair?"

Torin closed her fingers around the plastic vertical that held the padded arm to the pilot's chair. "The only reason I'd go anywhere near that man is if he ends up between me and Craig. Otherwise, I'll avoid him. It's a good-sized station, I'm willing to play the odds."

"Make your bet, then, Gunny. Long-range sensors just picked up a station." Werst swept his palm across the board. "No details, though."

"Distance?" Mashona asked.

"If we can ping them, distance doesn't matter. Not everyone sends out a tourist brochure, but, if nothing else, we should be receiving information about docking and fees. And what's more, I'm reading ships, but their registries aren't coming up. There's no way to tell if the Heart of Stone is there."

"It's there." The Heart was there, and Craig was there. Because they had to be.

"If we can ping them…" Mashona began.

"They can ping us." Werst agreed.

"And they'll get what I want them to," Ressk said, smiling broadly. "Which is the same as what they're giving out."

"I wonder how close they'll let us get?"

They were still moving fast, riding the exit surge, maintaining their emergent speed until they knew where they were going.

"No point in talking to us until they can stop us," Werst pointed out, "and unless they've got some big fukking guns, we need to be a little closer for…"

"Hi there." The young di'Taykan male on the screen had hair so light a blue it was nearly white and his pale eyes looked paler still given the amount of black they were lined with. Makeup had turned his skin the same shade as his hair-Torin assumed it was makeup-and he had two black rings piercing the center of his lower lip. "I'm pulling sweet fuk all off your signal, so you've got three minutes to make your case before I blow you to kingdom come. Which, by the way, is not an actual place but an oldEarth term meaning up. So, three minutes before I blow you up."

Torin centered herself on the screen. "I heard Vrijheid Station was a refuge from government bullshit."

"Really." He leaned a little closer to the pickup and grinned. Torin had never see a di'Taykan with dimples. "Who'd you hear that from?"

"Krai named Firrg."

"I don't think so."

"I had my foot on her throat at the time."

"Well, that endears you to me, trin, but there's…" His hair stilled and he frowned. "Wait, do I know you?"

Torin smiled.

"Fuk me. I do know you. You're that gunnery sergeant who had the little gray aliens in your brain and then got captured and found out the little gray aliens were in the plastic and actually making us all run around like we were neivins or something. I saw the vids. You were like crazy kick ass. Seriously, fuk me."

"Little hard from way out here."

"Right." His hair flipped forward over his face, then back-like his whole expression had blinked. "Okay, there's a lock free on the delta arm. You're going to have to give control over to the docking computer if you want to come any closer. We can't risk you ramming the station."

"That happens a lot?"

"Hasn't yet. But if it did, Big Bill would fukking space me."

"How do I know I'll get control back?"

"We start randomly taking ships over and it's bad for business, isn't it? Big Bill doesn't like things being bad for business. You leave here in good standing, and you get control back about when you would be leaving any station. Your standing ends up being not so good, well, you don't leave and you don't actually care about who's flying your ship." He glanced down at his screens. "Okay, really, you have to give control over now or you're fukked. And not in a fun I think you're fukking amazing because you did that whole plastic alien thing in your underwear kind of way."

Teeth gritted, Torin sighed and surrendered control.

The Second Star shuddered as her forward jets fired to slow her approach.

"Wow, nice firewalls. I can't get squat off you." He sounded honestly impressed. "Look, when you get in, I'm pretty much guaranteeing Big Bill's going to want to talk to you, being who you are and all, so if it takes a while to get the lock open, that's why. Oh and don't forget…" He leaned closer to the screen, one hand dropping down off camera into his lap. "… seriously, trin, fuk me."

And the screen went black.

"They listening in?"

Ressk snorted. "They're trying to."

"Sounds like you've got a fan, Gunny." Mashona stretched out her legs, crossed her booted feet at the ankles, and grinned. "He's kind of cute in a slightly crazy way. What's trin mean?"

"Beats me. Must be new slang."

"Context makes it sounds like sweetheart, or babe."

"Yeah, well, he's all yours," Torin told her, keeping most of her attention on the boards. "My focus remains on Craig."

"But di'Taykan don't count. They're like drinking that watery Niln beer-you get to have the experience with none of the effects."

"And if I have to fuk my way past him to get to Craig, I'll consider it for as long as it takes me to snap his neck."

It took her a moment to realize it had gotten so quiet she could hear one of the Krai scratching through the bristles on the back of his head. She could feel their eyes on her as she turned the chair.

"We'll get him out, Gunny." Werst had his lips pulled back off his teeth. So did Ressk. Mashona nodded.

"I know." Because to think in terms of anything less than one hundred percent would send them in handicapped. On his hands and knees, expecting to see chunks of his stomach lining hit the deck at any moment, Craig was vaguely aware of Huirre telling Cho he'd lost it again. Huirre was wrong. He hadn't so much lost it, as deliberately thrown it away. The work they'd done on the seal over the last few hours had proved Nadayki was almost as good as he believed he was. Although Craig had been as obstructive as he thought he could get away with, the kid had connected a few too many dots.

With sex off the distraction menu-Huirre was a verbal cold shower at the slightest innuendo-Craig had used hard and fast contractions of his stomach muscles plus the sense memory of cleaning the vomit to force his already unhappy system to rebel. It was a trick he used to use to get out of mandatory early morning classes when hung over.

Let's hear it for… Holy fukking crap! The vomiting had driven the red-hot spikes back through his temples… higher education "What I wouldn't do for even a KC-7 with a scope," Mashona muttered, tucking a third sheathed knife up against the small of her back. "I mean, I'm a sniper, right? You'd think they'd let you take something useful with you when you leave."

"Guess they figured there's not much use for a sniper in civilian life," Ressk said thoughtfully.

"And apparently, they'd be wrong."

Torin noted that Mashona still considered herself to be a sniper in spite of months out. Given that all three of them were still calling her Gunny that was hardly surprising. She needed them to think of her as their gunnery sergeant if this was going to work, so she let it stand.

"Not much use for a sniper inside a station," Werst pointed out. "Nothing like a hole shot through the bulkhead at high velocity to remind you that pressurized atmosphere is a good idea. Station work is up close and personal."

"All right," Mashona allowed, "I'll give you that one. Gunny, what about demolition charges?"

Werst snorted. "They aren't exactly up close and personal."

"They are if you drop them down someone's pants."

"All right," he grinned, "I'll give you that one."

"We're not taking charges in because we'll lose them," Torin pointed out. "If I were running a refuge for people who live off violent crime, I'd make damned sure to control the amount of damage they could do. I'd be fine with them beating the shit out of each other, blades even, but no one wanders around with the ability to damage the station."

Ressk tapped his head. "Got my ability right here."

"I'm betting he's got his system protected against every attack he can think of. Of course," she added before Ressk could respond, "I'm also betting you can think circles around him."

"He's got brains," Ressk allowed. "Government records say this station doesn't exist. But living on a station that doesn't exist means he's been out of the data stream for a while." He patted his slate. "I can guarantee I have a few tricks he's never seen."

Ressk was a combination of tech support and a stealth weapon. She trusted Mashona and Werst to have her back.

Werst was right, and up close and personal meant hands and feet and head. Torin was bringing in a knife in her boot sheath, fourteen years in the Corps trained to fight a war that had turned out to be a lie, and the certain knowledge she wasn't leaving this station without Craig Ryder.

"Two things," she said as the docking clamps clanged against the ship. "One, expect some of the people we'll meet to have spent time either in the Navy or the Corps. They'll be the ones who joined for the sanctioned violence and won't have lasted more than one contract, if that, but they'll have had some training. Take that into account when you engage." Not if; when. "Second, sometimes the salvage operators find weapons."

"You mean small arms? You think they ever keep them?" Mashona wondered, left elbow hooked over her right arm as she stretched out her shoulders.

"Doesn't matter what they do." Torin's snort dismissed every salvage operator in known space but one.

"So you're saying there may be weapons on this station," Werst translated. "In the hands of people who think they know how to use them."

"Probably in the hands of the so-called authorities." If there was no honor among thieves, then force or the threat of force would be needed to ensure compliance with even the minimal rules thieves and murderers were willing to live by.

"So if we need to arm up, we know where to go."

Torin glanced over at Mashona, who shrugged.

Werst snickered. "Okay, not where you were going with that, Gunny, but still a valid observation."

The telltales showed that the ship had been secured to the docking arm, but the station hadn't released control of the air lock. "Now," she said, hands locked behind her back to keep from slapping down the override, "we wait for Big Bill."

"Gunny, if the man in charge is coming out to greet us, we could take him. Exchange him for Craig."

"You think he's going to be that easy to take?"

"I think we shouldn't dismiss the possibility out of hand."

She had a point. "What again?"

"Just started, Cap." It sounded as though Huirre had moved as far away from the watery, pale yellow puddle as possible. "One minute he was fine, the next puke city."

"How much of the seal have you got left to go through?"

"One level, Captain." Nadayki sounded smug. "But I don't need him anymore. It'll take longer without him, but with the base he's laid, I can work out the remaining pattern on my own."

"You're sure?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Because if you're not, you'll…"

Craig missed the rest of Cho's warning as he coughed out a mouthful of bile, his skull attempting to collapse in on itself. When the ringing in his ears cleared enough for him to hear, Nadayki was saying, "… plus he was breathing hard."

"Hyperventilating?"

"I guess."

Plus? Had Nadayki spotted the stomach clenching and realized he'd made himself sick? Was the little shit dobbing him out?

He could hear Cho breathing heavily through his nose, hear the scrape of his thumb through the stubble on the edge of his jaw. Hell, he could practically hear that stubble growing. Every little sound set off another spike of pain. This was a ripping new side effect he sure as shit hoped didn't last long.

"Take him to Doc," the captain growled at last.

Craig gave thanks he wasn't a screamer.

"Thought there was nothing Doc could do about this, Captain?"

"About this, no."

In Craig's experience, enigmatic was never good. He fell away from the puddle when Huirre kicked at his legs, taking the impact on his shoulder to keep his weight off the borrowed slate he'd instinctively snapped onto his belt as he dropped to his knees.

A smart man would have puked on the seal; that would have gained Torin some time. "Welcome to Vrijheid Station, Gunnery Sergeant Kerr. Please remove all weapons before entering your air lock. In the interest of not fatally disrupting business, we prefer our violence to remain at the hand-to-hand-to-foot-to-teeth level."

Torin bent and pulled the knife from her boot sheath. "You heard the man."

"But, Gunny…"

"He's clearly got more control over this place than I thought, but everything I said about weapons relates to hand-to-hand. Some of them will be trained, but you're better."

"I'm better," Werst muttered. Ressk elbowed him. Hard.

"Just stay away from anyone who works directly for Big Bill," she reminded them, checking that Presit's camera was in place as the telltales went green.

Big Bill was actually big. About a meter nine, Craig's height, and heavier. Fat over muscle, considering the way he carried his bulk. In spite of the name, that hadn't been a given; Torin had served with a man universally known as One Ball for no physical reason. Big Bill had thick brown hair combed back off a high forehead, gold-flecked brown eyes, and he smiled like a Krai.

The two Krai flanking him-also smiling-came as bit of a surprise. Not many people used the Krai as muscle-and Torin had no doubt that's what these two were. It explained the hand-to-hand-to-foot-to-teeth comment. Odds were the rules that governed Krai eating habits in most of known space weren't in effect here, and it was hard to win a fight with a Krai when they literally took bites out of their opponents.

Hard. But not impossible.

Given their size and the mottling on their scalps, she'd bet they were both male.

"Well, it really is Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr. I hate to call any of my people liars, but…"

Torin knew he'd examined the recording of the conversation. Knew that there'd been a recording of the conversation. Big Bill didn't seem like the type who'd appreciate secondhand news.

"… but Alamber, the little shit, is a chronic liar so you'll forgive me for doubting him." Big Bill beamed a smile just past Torin's shoulders. "And Corporals Mashona, Ressk, and Werst. I'm pleased to see you've recovered from your stay on the prison planet."

Confirmation that he'd seen the vids.

"And here you are. Running away from your old lives." He spread his arms. "Disillusioned by discovering that rather than fighting an honorable war against an implacable foe, you were being screwed over by a collective of plastic aliens. Is that what I'm supposed to believe?"

He reminded Torin of Harnett, the staff sergeant who'd called himself colonel and taken over one of the pods in the prison, building his power base with the lives of other Marines. Torin had no doubt that Big Bill's power base had also been built with death. With many more than the three deaths she personally knew of. She'd killed eight of Harnett's thugs and finished the day by snapping his neck and, now, with this man implicit in Craig's abduction, she fought to keep that memory from showing on her face. No problem if Big Bill thought her threatening, but for this to work, he couldn't consider her a personal threat.

As the pause lengthened, Big Bill's brows rose, barely breaching the breadth of forehead. "That wasn't a rhetorical question. Is that what I'm supposed to believe?"

Torin shrugged, and locked her gaze with his. "That's up to you. Me, I discovered everything I believed was a lie. That my whole fukking life was a lie. That almost everyone I knew died for that lie." Colonel Mariner. Major Ohi. Captain Rose. Lieutenant Jarret. First Sergeant Tutone. Sergeant Hollice. Private Gradon. The list went on. And on. This anger, it was safe to show. "You can believe it or not."

He stared at her, head cocked. The two Krai behind him shifted in place.

"I believe it," he said after a long moment. They continued to stare at each other for a moment longer, then by a silent and mutual decision, looked away. Big Bill looked over Torin's shoulder again. "And you three?"

"We're with her," Werst answered.

"Obviously." He brushed his palms together. "So this is a salvage operator's ship. I can see where the pens attach. How did you come by it?"

"So this is a mining station," Torin replied flatly. "How did you come by it?"

He stared at her again, then he laughed. "I like you, Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr. That may change, but right now, I like you. So if you're going pirating…"

"I'm considering the best use of our talents."

"Which are?"

"We're trained killers." It was the tone Marines learned not to argue with.

Big Bill made a noncommittal noise and dropped his hands to the shoulders of his Krai companions, moving them closer together. "The people who use this station call these guys the Grr brothers."

Behind her, Werst snorted.

Torin ignored him when Big Bill did. "Think you can take them?" he asked.

"Yes."

Both brows rose. "You're that sure."

Torin looked at them. They looked amused. They won as much on reputation as skill, then. She didn't give a flying fuk about their reputation. "One at a time or both together?"

"Always together." When she returned her gaze to Big Bill, he looked amused as well. "And you alone."

Of course. "I'm that sure."

"They've never lost a fight, and they prefer to eat my enemies alive. Around here, people believe they devour souls with the flesh."

Torin heard both Werst and Ressk shift in place, but they held their position. Before receiving her third chevron, Torin'd had to learn a number of obscure details about the three species who made up the Confederation Marine Corps. Belief systems, philosophies, religions-if people believed the Grr brothers were eating souls with the flesh, then it was because the Grr brothers had told them they were.

"Still think you can take them?"

Crackpot religious beliefs further warped by a pair of amoral believers didn't frighten her. "Are you asking me to prove it?"

"You have no gun. No blade. None of the means to kill that Marines are so fond of." Under Big Bill's hands, the Krai shifted, ready to prove a point. "I think you overestimate your…"

Eyes still locked on Big Bill's, Torin put a hand behind each of the Grr brothers' heads, twisted, and slammed their faces together as hard as she could, glad of the chance to spend some of the anger she'd carried since Craig had been taken. Krai bone was one of the hardest materials in known space. Krai faces, without warning enough to get their nose ridges closed, were a weak point.

Taking them on one at a time, she might have had a problem.

She didn't-Craig didn't-have time for extended posturing.

As expected, they pushed away from the source of the pain first.

By the time they turned to her, gasping for breath through the blood, blinking it out of their eyes-and, noted for later encounters, it was a short time-Torin grabbed the brother reaching for her and dug into the bundle of nerves at the base of his thumb. As he hit the deck, arm stretched up over his head, his brother wrapped a foot around her ankle and a hand around her arm just as she drove her fingertips in under the edges of the nose ridges he couldn't close.

He froze.

"Your choice how this finishes," Torin said quietly. The Krai could do Big Bill's dirty work with half his nose ridges destroyed, the scarring would add visual intimidation, but he couldn't win this fight.

Big Bill considered it long enough, she felt the grip on her arm tighten just a little. Finally, he sighed. "Stand down."

When the standing Grr released her, she pulled her hand away, stepping back as he did, freeing his brother. Stepping back until she felt a warm, solid body against her left side. Werst; the other unarmed combat specialist in the group, had moved to a support position.

Both Krai flashed bloody teeth as they moved to flank Big Bill.

Torin bit through the back of her left index finger, showed them the drop of blood, and rubbed it against her own teeth, saying in Federate because she didn't know the Krai, "Your defeat feeds me."

Part of the catechism.

When their eyes widened, she knew she'd gotten lucky. They were true believers, not crazy fuks using an unpopular religion to spread terror. Or, at least, not only crazy fuks using an unpopular religion to spread terror.

They clearly didn't like it, but they nodded and said in unison, "Zer ginyk satalmerik."

Based on the article Torin had studied, "We are tree-down" was the correct reply to her statement. For an arboreal species, it meant, "We are finished." If the cultural xenologist had it right, she'd symbolically just eaten their souls, and they wouldn't move on her or hers-an insurance policy against a random attack.

Unless Big Bill gave a direct order, in which case all bets were off. Commerce trumped religion nine times out of ten.

"So are we welcome here or not?"

Big Bill glanced down at the Krai and back up again, this smile purely Human. "If you can afford to breathe."

The rates were murderous, but they wouldn't be there long enough for anyone to discover the account Ressk had set up was imaginary.

"We can afford it."

"Good." He should have been furious that his bully boys had been defeated, but, if anything, he looked speculative. Behind the smile, he was clearly making plans. "All right. What are your immediate needs?"

I need to know if the Heart of Stone is docked here. If it is, I need you to stay out of my way while I take back what's mine.

Torin bit back the words, kept them from showing on her face. The price for Big Bill's cooperation would be far too high. She'd pay it if she had to, sell herself to save Craig, buy him and her people passage away from Vrijheid, but not until she'd spent everything else.

"Ship could use restocking," she said.

"Then let me escort you to the Hub. I'm going that way."

No one spoke during the sixty-meter walk down the arm to the Hub. Torin walked at Big Bill's right, the two Krai, still bleeding from their nose ridges, followed on their heels, Werst, Ressk, and Mashona behind them.

The arm was narrow, clearly a later addition to the station, and although there were other ships docked between the Second Star and the Hub, none of their crews were out and about. Either Big Bill preferred not to be approached in a confined space, or people preferred not to approach him-Torin didn't plan on being around long enough for the difference to matter.

A wave of sound hit as they stepped out through the decompression doors into the central cylinder on the lowest level. Torin could see four bars and half a dozen small businesses around the outer curve. Two large screens on either end showed sports and what looked like music vids-play-by-play and instruments competing for ears. There were people in the concourse-Human, di'Taykan, and Krai-talking, conducting business at small kiosks, moving from one place in the station to another. Torin thought she saw the bottom segment of a Ciptran disappearing into a vertical. A few people were drunk, and a couple of voices were raised in an argument heading for a fight, but they could have been in any one of a thousand stations.

Heads turned as they emerged, and although no one seemed to be overtly watching them, suddenly everyone was. Even the drunks.

No, not watching them. Watching Big Bill.

The ambient noise level dropped further when the Grr brothers emerged, still spattered with blood. Even the volume of the big screens seemed lower.

For a moment, Torin thought Big Bill was going to clap her on the shoulder. When she turned to face him, he thought better of it and let his hand fall back to his side. He made it look like it had been his decision. "If you need anything, Gunnery Sergeant, Mashona, Werst, Ressk," he said jovially, his voice carrying, "let me know. Good luck finding work."

"Good luck finding work?" Mashona repeated, coming in closer as Big Bill and his companions moved out of eavesdropping range. "What the hell does that mean?"

Torin watched people watching Big Bill and the injured Krai as they passed. "It means he's identified us, all of us, as his. No one will hire us, the cost of being here will put us dangerously into debt, and we'll have no recourse but to go to work for him."

"He wants us for something specific. You, anyway, Gunny," Werst amended.

"And that means no one will question us being here, so it works in our favor." As Big Bill moved off the concourse, all eyes turned on them. Lip curled, Torin swept her gaze around the space and noted reactions. Not as many ex-Corps as she'd feared.

"Gunny, about the… them." Ressk sounded worried, so she turned. "You ate their souls?"

"They believe, Ressk, I don't." Glancing between the two Krai, she exchanged raised eyebrows with Mashona and said, "And?"

"And they're lovers," Werst snorted. "Not brothers."

"Actually…" Ressk's nose ridges opened and closed. "They might also be brothers. Their scents are so tangled."

"Yeah, well…" Werst waved that off. "… consenting adults. Who the fuk cares. More to the point, no one smells like that living on protein patties and vat steak. Big Bill, he wasn't kidding about them eating his enemies."

"I doubt Big Bill kids about much," Torin pointed out. "Now, let's find the Heart of Stone, find Craig, and haul ass out of here before it matters."