Valour's Choice Read Online Free PDF

give me a hand with this? I can’t get the jacket to hang straight.”
    Nearest the hatch separating the staff sergeants’ quarters from the NCO Common, Sergeant Mike Glicksohn stood and beckoned Torin closer. “And aren’t you just the picture of martial elegance.”
    “Aren’t I just,” she agreed handing him her belt. “I can’t remember the last time I got this tarted up.”
    “When you made Staff?”
    “No, that was a field promotion—I was covered in Staff Sergeant Guntah’s guts and the only thing black on me was my fingernails where frostbite had started to set in.”
    “I remember.” Anne Chou looked up from her slate. “Planet was barely habitable—we’d have ignored it if the Others hadn’t tried to set up a mining base.”
    “So now we have a mining base there, and someday we’ll have to go back to the frozen hole in the ass end of space to protect it.”
    “War is progress,” Glicksohn muttered, stepping back. “That’s got it.”
    “Thanks.” Moving to the wall, Torin polarized the vid screen. “You think there’s a reason they make these collars so uncomfortable?” she asked, checking her reflection. “Does it seem hot in here?” Working her shoulders under the black cloth, she wondered why she suddenly felt so... “Trey!”
    The three Humans turned toward the other end of the room where the di’Taykan sergeant had just come through from the showers.
    “Give me a break,” she sighed, as she walked naked to her room. “What am I supposed to clip it to? Besides, you’re Human, repression’s good for you. And you,” she continued, pausing to grin at Torin, “should thank me because before the Corps absorbed the di’Taykan, you would’ve had to wear a hat with that.”
    “Thank you,” Torin told the closed door. “And thank you,” she added as Chou turned the air recyclers on high. “Speaking of maskers, anyone know where Haysole is? I’ve barely seen him since we locked.”
    “Zero gee bubble. He said something about trying to work his way through the Berganitan’s crew.”
    “Vacuum jockeys, too?”
    “Not all of them.” Glicksohn settled back in his chair and picked up the pouch of beer he’d discarded earlier. “I’ve got a game set up at 2130, and a few showed interest.”
    “Playing on neutral ground?”
    “Close as you can get on this flying fish tank.”
    “Who’s going with you in case the vjs get ugly?”
    Glicksohn snorted. “Is there any other kind?”
    “Mike...”
    “Sam Austin’s going and Esket from the aircrew. Happy?” When she nodded, he grinned. “You worry too much.”
    “It’s my job. And speaking of my job, did either of you... any of you,” she corrected as Trey came out of her quarters, “manage a species check on the diplomats?”
    “Dornagain and Mictok,” Trey told her dropping into a chair.
    Glicksohn tossed her a beer. “I thought the Silsviss were reptilian; why not send Raszar or Niln? Let them know they’re not the only lizards around before they join up.”
    “Or why not H’san?” Chou wondered. “Everybody likes the H’san.”
    “I’m guessing that they’re not sending reptilians because they don’t want to suggest competition.” Torin flicked a bit of lint off her campaign ribbons. “And there was a H’san on the first contact team; the Silsviss kept remarking on how much it smelled like food.”
    “That’s what I said, everybody likes the H’san.”
    “I know the Mictok are supposed to be these great diplomats,” Glicksohn muttered, “but every time I see one, this little voice inside my head keeps screaming, Get it off me! Get it off me!”
    Before she could answer, Torin’s implant chimed.
    *Lieutenant Jarret is waiting for you in the corridor.*
    * * *
    Before the di’Taykan, both the Marine Corps and the Navy had worn dress blues, but the induction of a race with pastel-colored hair and eyes had demanded a change. The Navy chose gray— dove gray for their pilots, slightly darker for