Valour's Choice Read Online Free PDF Page B

the engineers who made Susumi space possible, and charcoal gray for everyone else. The Corps wore black. Regardless of trade or rank or designation, a Marine was first a Marine.
    Fortunately, those with low tolerances for pastel over camouflage didn’t tend to go into combat units.
    Lieutenant Jarret was waiting for her by the ladder that connected the platoon to their air support, one deck up. The Corps prided itself on the flexibility of its packaging as well as its people and could snap together transportation units to match any configuration of troops. As Torin joined him, pilot and copilot slid down the ladder from above.
    “Captain Fiona Daniels, Second Lieutenant Ghard, this is Staff Sergeant Torin Kerr. The sergeant will be joining us tonight at the request of Captain Carveg of the Berganitan .”
    “Glad to have you with us, Staff. The vjs are going to have us severely outnumbered.”
    Torin returned the captain’s smile. “Happy to be providing backup, Captain.” Fiona Daniels had the kind of rakish good looks that showed up on Human recruiting posters. Dark hair, green eyes, one deep dimple punctuating straight white teeth— only someone who’d seen Med-op reconstruction up close could tell from the slight difference in tone that the skin over the entire left side of her face had recently been replaced. She’d been one of the pilots who’d got Sh’quo Company off the ground after that last disastrous planetfall and if backup extended to smacking around a few vacuum jockeys for her, Torin would be more than happy to oblige.
    On the other side of the lock, the walls changed to Navy colors and their implants simultaneously asked their destination.
    Lieutenant Jarret’s hair flattened slightly in irritation, but he answered politely. “Wardroom.”
    *At the end of this passageway, take the vertical to deck seven. The wardroom is three doors from the vertical on the left. Please proceed.*
    “Don’t let it bother you, Jarret,” Captain Daniels advised as they began walking. “It’s a Navy thing. The vjs can’t find their ass without a homing beacon.”
    * * *
    “What’s going on?”
    “Ressk’s tapping into that fancy party Staff’s going to.” Juan ducked as Binti swung at him. “Well, I’m not going to fukking lie.”
    Corporal Hollice shouldered in beside Mysho and leaned over the curve of the Krai’s head. “Those are... okay, were... Navy security codes.”
    “He’s in?” someone at the back of the pack demanded.
    “I’m in.” Ressk reached out and very carefully shoved his slate into the port on the wall vid. The screen went black, then gray, then slowly focused.
    Hollice sighed. “I’d just like to go on record as being out of the room the whole time this access was being forced.”
    “Seduced,” Ressk corrected, fiddling with the contrast.
    “Hey, look, Mictok.”
    The Humans present suppressed a racial shudder as a trio of Mictok accepted drinks from one of the commissariat.
    The camera angle changed.
    “I see Navy all over the fukking place,” Juan complained. “Where’s our team?”
    “There, at the hatch.”
    * * *
    As the two pilots led the way into the room, Torin glanced over at Jarret. Given the constant movement of his hair and the way he carried his weight forward on the balls of his feet, he was nervous. She didn’t blame him. Most second lieutenants learned how to command with their platoon hidden in the midst of a battalion planetfall—not out in full view of a ceremonial mission. It couldn’t help that every chest in the room but his and the diplomats carried a rainbow of campaign ribbons.
    “Remember that the Navy’s on our side, no matter how it sounds,” she murmured as they crossed toward Captain Carveg. “We’re sort of like siblings; bottom line, we stand together. As for the civilians, the older races think we’re savages because we’re willing to fight to maintain the Confederation, so the most rudimentary of social skills impresses them.