Valor's Trial (14 page)

Torin stopped him before he and Maekan could slide Harnett's body into the pit. “Strip him first. Strip all of them.”

“To the victor goes the spoils,” Terantowicz muttered as Edwards' body hit the floor.

Torin turned just far enough to catch her gaze. And hold it.

Terantowicz grinned. Her gaze flickered up and over Torin's left shoulder.

Torin's expression never changed. When Bakune charged her from behind, clearly intending to sweep her into the pit, she leaned away from his rush, grabbed the front of his uniform and directed his momentum.

They'd never measured the pit because matter entering it set off a charge.

Bakune managed a sound that might have grown into a scream had a flash of light and the sharp tang of ozone not cut it off as his head passed below the lip of the pit. One hand closed around the edge with a desperate grip, then the fingers spasmed and slid free.

There was surprisingly little smell.

“Too bright to see what actually happened, Gunny,” Werst reported from the edge. “But I'm betting the body was destroyed.”

“Odds are good,” Torin acknowledged, finally allowing a visibly shaken Terantowicz to look away. “I'm not happy about losing the tech the Corps built into Bakune's combats. Just because it's not working now doesn't mean it can't be repaired.”

The other bodies were stripped with impressive speed.

“Waste of meat,” Werst murmured beside her as Harnett's corpse was slid feetfirst over the edge.

“Take it up with the major, Corporal.”

He snorted. “Pass, Gunny. You notice there were no Krai among Harnett's
gertiv
.”

She wasn't familiar with the word, but the context sufficed. “Not a lot of Krai in the infantry, Werst, so don't get smug. He was choosing for size.”

“If I was di'Taykan, I'd have a response for that.”

“If you were di'Taykan,” Torin admitted, “I wouldn't have said it.”

“So, Gunny, about that guard post Harnett had out in the tunnels.” When she looked down, his nose ridges were opening and closing in a slow, rhythmic wave from top to bottom. “What are they keeping out?”

“Something that beat the crap out of one of his hunting parties. That seems to be all anyone knows. Kyster saw them go by; doesn't know what did it, though.”

“It'd be like the Others to drop a few surprises in here with us.”

“Can't see why,” Torin muttered. “It's not like the Others to take prisoners.”

Werst snorted. “They'd better take prisoners, Gunny. Because if this is the afterlife, I'm feeling a little fukked over.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” Later, she'd have to find the point where the tunnels intersected the lava flow, where Harnett had been mining his blades and . . . A sudden realization cut the thought off. “Where did the wood come from for the handles of the clubs?”

“It's not wood,” Jiyuu told her, shuffling closer. “It's the mush.”

Only years of experience kept Torin from reacting. “The mush?”

“If you form it when it's cooled but still wet and let it dry, it's almost unbreakable. You'd think that after eating it, you'd be shitting literal bricks, but you don't.”

That was good to hear.

“The leather ties came out of the pipe, though,” he continued before Torin could ask, “Sometimes it drops weird crap, Gunnery Sergeant. Like the fabric and the ties and once, once it dropped four black rubber balls. Harnett grabbed it all. The stuff he didn't use, it's all in where the food was.”

“There was stuff,” Werst acknowledged at Torin's look and added, “You're quite the ass kisser there, Private Jiyuu.”

The di'Taykan shrugged. “I like to be helpful. I can be very helpful.”

No mistaking the emphasis on the last word, particularly not when his hand rose toward his masker. Torin really hoped he wasn't stupid enough to think a shot of pheromones would make everything all better.

“Touch that masker, I'll have Corporal Werst take your hand off at the wrist,” she said calmly. Jiyuu might be a suck-up and no older than Kyster, but he'd been one of Harnett's goons, and she wasn't underestimating any of them, not when it came to blatant self-interest at least.

“How . . .”

Werst snapped his teeth together.

Jiyuu's eyes darkened and his hand dropped. “The hunting parties will be returning soon,” he offered, ignoring the black look Terantowicz shot him.

“Party,” Torin corrected. “What tunnel?”

His smile was about fifty-fifty ingratiating and unnerved as he realized what that had to mean. “I'm guessing one of the tunnels you didn't come out of.”

Terantowicz growled something under her breath.

Torin raised a hand to cut Jiyuu off and snapped, “What tunnel, Private Terantowicz!”

“Tunnel two, Gunnery Sergeant!” Eyes wide, she all but slapped a hand over her mouth when she realized what she'd done. Training had kicked in, and she'd responded instinctively.

“And tunnel two is where?”

Reluctantly, she pointed.

“Thank you, Private. All right,” Torin raised her voice slightly. “Terantowicz, Jiyuu, Maekan, Akemi, and . . .”

“Phillips, Gunnery Sergeant.”

“. . . and Phillips, go to Staff Sergeant Pole, have him assign you to platoons.”

“Platoons, Gunnery Sergeant?”

“Got extra food stored in your ears, Phillips?”

“No, Gunnery Sergeant. But aren't we . . .” He looked around at other four survivors. “. . . your prisoners?”

“No, like everyone else in this node, you're my responsibility. Most days, there's a difference. Now move. Lance Corporal Divint and Private Sergei, if you could see that they get there safely . . .”

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant.”

“What in this shithole is any danger to us?” Terantowicz muttered as they began to walk away.

“A hundred Marines you helped screw over,” Divint told her.

Torin read the realization of just what that could mean from the sudden stiffening in all five backs. There were only three platoons, but the di'Taykan, likely to be shunned by the rest of their species, would need to be kept together anyway. As for the hunting party still out and the two goons plus a runner at the barricade, well, six more would mean two more in each platoon—easy enough to keep apart and still under the minimum number necessary for them to begin to feel comfortable enough to plot. With so few Krai in the infantry, there'd been a lot of research done by the wetware squad into how many of a species were needed for them to feel secure. Right now, Harnett's group was essentially another species.

“You going to hit the hunting party before they get home?” Werst asked, falling in beside her as she started for tunnel two.

“That's the idea.”

“Not going to clear it with the major first?”

She should.

Before she could answer, Werst grunted a noncommittal addendum.
Never mind, stupid question,
probably came closest in translation.

If she waited to face the hunting party in the node, there was always the chance one of them would be smart enough to yell for reinforcements. Terantowicz, at least, would be right there. Stopping them out in the tunnels kept it between the four of them. Five, if Werst had to get involved although she hoped he wouldn't—these were her lives to carry out. With any luck, the hunting party would accept there'd been a change in the chain of command, and no one else would die. Torin wouldn't bet her pension on it, but a little optimism never hurt. Optimism backed by kickass hurt a lot less. Hurt
her
a lot less anyway.

Tunnel two looked exactly like tunnel four, the tunnel she and Kyster had entered the node through—ten meters with no small caves and then a corner. The corner seemed like a good place for an ambush; cut the hunting party off just out of sight of home.

As they reached the corner, the sound of six bootheels hitting rock told her she was just in time. They weren't in sight, not yet, thanks to the drunken worm layout of the tunnels, but they were very close.

“Stay here,” she told Werst.

“And if you need backup, Gunny?”

“I'll yell.”

His nose ridges flared. “Really?”

“Really. I've had a long day,” she added when he didn't seem to believe her. As he snickered, she rounded the corner.

The boots rang louder.

The sound was intended to strike fear into anyone listening.

Or would when they got close enough to the node for anyone to hear it.

It definitely sounded less cheesy when she did it.

This hunting party consisted of two females and one male although once again two Humans and one di'Taykan. Twice as many Humans out in the tunnels explained why there seemed to be a disproportionate number of di'Taykans with Harnett in the node—not that Torin really gave a shit about species, but she preferred to have that kind of discrepancy explained. They all wore knives. Two of them had clubs. One of them had removed her sleeves.

Pity she hadn't been around to see Edwards prove why that was a really stupid idea.

They were talking about their patrol, about how boring walking the tunnels was when they found no new Marines, about the things they wanted to find on the next new Marines they found.

“I would fukking kill for a pouch of coffee.”

“What, again?”

They didn't see Torin until she moved out from the tunnel wall and when they did, they stopped laughing. If she'd needed a reminder of why Harnett's people deserved to die, they'd just given her one.

“Who the hell are you?” the Human female snarled.

“I am Gunnery Sergeant Torin Kerr.” Her lip curled as she noted their collar tabs. “Who the hell are you, Corporal . . . ?”

“Honisch.”

“I'll have something to say about the state of your uniform later, Corporal Honisch.”

Honisch glanced at her bare arms, opened her mouth . . .

“Later,” Torin repeated, cutting her off. “Right now, I'm here to tell you that there's been a change in command at the node.”

“Colonel Harnett . . .”

“Staff Sergeant Harnett is dead, Private . . .”

“Thurman, Gunnery Sergeant!” His cheeks flushed above the edge of his beard as he snapped out the trained response. Then he shifted into a more belligerent stance. “So you think you're in charge now?”

“Major Kenoton is the officer in charge.”

Honisch snorted. “Major Kenoton is . . .”

The di'Taykan's hand on her bare arm cut her off. She stepped forward, looking young and uncertain, ocher eyes dark and locked on Torin's face. “I had a
thytrin
on Silsviss with you, Gunnery Sergeant Kerr.”

Torin waited. She lost sixteen of her people on Silsviss.

“Corporal di'Merk Mysho.”

Mysho had made it home.

“I saw her just before we shipped out to Gantry Three and then . . .” A graceful gesture managed to include the tunnel, the node, the entire concept of captivity. “She said no one would have survived the slaughter if it wasn't for you. She said you would have been willing to take on every giant lizard on the planet if it meant getting your platoon out alive. She said you were
der heen sa verniticna sa vey.
” Her companions stared as she drew in a long breath and came to attention, her eyes never leaving Torin's face. “I am Private di'Hern Darlys, Gunnery Sergeant. I surrender to your authority.”

Torin held out her hand. “Your weapons.”

“Hey,” Thurman began as Darlys handed over first her club and then her knife, but Torin silenced him with a look. It had become quite clear from the moment Darlys realized who Torin was, it was no longer three goons to one gunnery sergeant but even odds, and the type of people willing to follow a man like Harnett wouldn't think much of that.

“Go to Staff Sergeant Pole; tell him I said you're to be put into platoons. No di'Taykan will be left alone,” she added, answering the question before Darlys asked it. “Honisch! Thurman!” Her tone froze them in place as they started to follow the di'Taykan around the corner. “Weapons!”

“We're not giving . . .” Thurman's protest trailed off when he realized he was making it alone.

“Corporal Werst.”

He strode around the corner like a Marine off a training vid. “Gunnery Sergeant Kerr!”

She handed over Darlys' club and knife. “Take charge of their weapons.”

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant!”

Neither Thurman nor Honisch were happy about it, but they obeyed the order, and that was all that mattered. The whole lot of them had been just a little too happy for just a little too long.

Torin let the three walk far enough ahead of her she could watch their body language while keeping close enough they couldn't plot without her being aware of it. Not that there was any plotting going on—Darlys hushed both her companions when they tried to speak.

“What did it mean, Gunny?” Werst asked when the hunting party was safely with Staff Sergeant Pole and no longer immediately her problem.

“What Corporal Mysho said?” Eyes narrowed, Torin watched as the three platoon sergeants came forward to claim their new people. Pole had the di'Taykans grouped under a Human sergeant. Smart move. “Roughly, that I was fit to start a family.”

His nose ridges flared as he looked up at her. “That's it?”

“Roughly.”

The grunt suggested he'd ask around later, and that was fine with Torin; she hadn't lied to him.