Tanya Huff - Valor 1 - Valor's Choice

Valor 01

Valor’s Choice

Tanya Huff

E-Book Version 0.9

Most formatting & spelling errors rectified

Scanned by Bodafon

21st April 2004

If your like this book, please buy it.

The author deserves the royalties.

Cover art by Jody Lee. For color prints of Jody Lee's paintings,

please contact: The Cerridwen Enterprise

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DAW Book Collectors No. 1148. DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Putnam Inc.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead

is strictly coincidental.

If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and

reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received

any payment for this "stripped book."

First Printing, April 2000 5 6 7 8 9

DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

-MARCA REGISTRADA

HECHO EN U.S.A.

PRINTED IN THE U S.A

This one's for Sheila, 'cause she was willing to take a chance.

And for Gord Rose and David Sutton and Leslie Dicker and all the other men and women

who actually do the work in military organizations worldwide.

Also for my father who, during the Korean War, made Chief Petty Officer. Twice.

Prologue

A writer and philosopher of the late twentieth century once said, "Space is big." There

are three well-known corollaries to this. The first is that the number of planets where

biological accidents occurred in the correct order to create life is small. The second is

that the number of planets where life managed to overcome the odds and achieve sen-

tience is smaller still. And the third is that many of these sentient life-forms blow

themselves into extinction before they ever make it off their planet of origin.

If space is big and mostly uninhabited, it should be safe to assume that any life-forms

who really didn't get along could avoid spending time in each other's company.

Unfortunately, the fact that said life-forms could avoid each other doesn't necessarily

mean that they would.

When the Others attacked systems on the borders of Confederation territory,

Parliament sent out a team of negotiators to point out that expansion in any other

direction would be more practical as it would not result in conflict. The negotiators

were returned in a number of very small pieces, their ship cleverly rigged to explode

when it would do the most damage.

The Confederation found itself at a disadvantage. Its member races had achieved an

interstellar presence only after they'd overcome the urge to destroy themselves or any

strangers they ran into. Evidence suggested the Others had flung themselves into

space without reaching this level of maturity. Clearly, in order to survive, the

Confederation would have to recruit some more aggressive members.

Humans had a bare-bones space station and a shaky toehold on Mars when the

Confederation ships appeared. Some fairly basic technology by Confederation

standards, combined with the information that the Others were heading Earth's way,

convinced humanity to throw its military apparatus into space where they took to

interstellar warfare the way the H'san took to cheese.

Some one and a half centuries of intermittent war later, borders had shifted, and

Humans had been joined by first the Taykan and then the Krai. Much of the military

terminology introduced into the Confederation's common tongue remained Human

although, as the three races became increasingly more integrated, Taykan and Krai

words began creeping in. The Krai, for example, had sixteen useful adjectives

describing the impact of an antipersonnel weapon on a soft target.

Although the induction of younger and more aggressive species had undeniably

solved the problem presented by the Others, it had also irrevocably changed the face

of the Confederation. Feeling just a little overwhelmed,- many of the original species

spent their spare time sighing and reminiscing about the good old days.

One

Reveillie was not the best thing to have reverberating through one's skull after a night

of too much and too little in various combinations. Making a mental note to change

the program to something less painfully intrusive, Torin tongued the implant and tried

to remember how to open her eyes during the five blessed seconds of silence before

the first of her messages came in.

*At the chime, it will be 0530.*

The chime set up interesting patterns on the inside of her lids. What had she been

drinking?

*Your liberty will be over at 0600.*

Which might be a problem, considering how much trouble she was having with basic

bodily functions. Groping for the panel beside the bed, she applied what she hoped

was enough pressure for dim lighting and cautiously cracked an eye. From the little

she could see, these were not her quarters. The less than state-of-the-art wall utility

suggested station guest quarters-for a not particularly important guest.

Finally managing to sort current sensation from memory, she turned her head toward

the warm body pressed up against her side. The di'Taykan's short lilac hair swayed

gently in response to her exhalation, the pointed tip of an ear covered and uncovered

by the moving strands.

Adi'Taykan.

That explained things. It wasn't a hangover, she had pheromone head.

Sliding out from under the blanket, Torin stood, stretched carefully, and filled her

lungs with air that hadn't been warmed by the di'Taykan's body heat. As memories

returned, she smiled. Not only did Humans find the Taykan incredibly attractive but a

Taykan in the di' phase was one of the most indiscriminately enthusiastic life-forms in

the Galaxy and offered the perfect and uncomplicated way to chase the memories of

that last, horrible planetfall right back to the galactic core.

*Captain Rose wants to see you in his office at 0800.*

There were two piles of clothing on the room's one chair, both folded into neatly

squared-off piles. He must've been raised by one strict sheshan, Torin thought, grabbing

her service uniform and ducking into the bathroom. It had taken most of her nine

years in the Corps to achieve that precise a fold, regardless of distraction.

When she emerged a few moments later, fully dressed, all she could see of her

companion was a lithe lump under the blanket and a moving fringe of uncovered hair.

Relieved, she moved silently toward the door, pausing only long enough to turn off

the lights. A di'Taykan considered, "Once more before breakfast?" to be a reasonable

substitute for "Good morning." and, with no time to spare, she was just as happy not

to have to test her willpower.

Outside in the corridor, the familiar "something's leaking somewhere" smell of the

station's recycled air drove the last of the pheromone-induced haze from her head.

*0547* her implant announced when she prodded. Thirteen minutes before her liberty

ended and her flasher came back up on screen. Thirteen minutes to get to a part of the

station that wouldn't incite prurient speculation among the duty staff.

"I should've reset wake-up for five. What was I thinking?" she muttered, diving into

the vertical- fortunately empty at this hour-and free-falling two levels. Grabbing a

handhold, she swung out onto the lock level. Easy answer, actually. She'd been

thinking that she needed to forget the carnage, forget those they lost limping back to

the station on a ship that had won its battle but nearly lost its own little slice of the

war, forget the messages she'd sent to family and friends, and forget that new faces,

always new faces, would soon be arriving to replace those they'd lost.

And she had been able to forget. For a while.

A di'Taykan wouldn't feel used. She didn't think they could.

Considering the time, it was a good thing station guest quarters were on the same side

of the core as the barracks. Another vertical, another lock, and she was in NCO

country.

*0600*

Heading for her own quarters, Staff Sergeant Torin Kerr had her implant scan the

night's reports for any of the names she kept flagged. Apparently, no one had died and

no one had gotten arrested.

Things hadn't fallen apart while she was gone.

No harm done, and it wasn't as if she'd ever see that particular di'Taykan again....

At 0758, showered, changed, and carrying her slate, Torin approached the captain's

door, turning over the possible reasons he'd moved their morning meeting up an hour.

As senior surviving NCO, she'd been his acting First Sergeant since the battered

remnant of Sh'quo Company had arrived back at the station. Clearly that wasn't going

to last, but it was unlikely Battalion HQ would send out a new First before the recruits

needed to bring the company up to strength-unlikely but possible, she admitted after a

moment's reflection. Battalion HQ had shown what could only be called unique

leadership in the past.

It was also possible that they were promoting her and the captain needed to tell her in

time for her to make the 1000 shuttle. With a war on, it didn't take long to make

sergeant, but after that, promotions tended to slow down, common wisdom suggesting

that by the time a grunt got that third chevron, they'd learned to duck. Still, with the

company losing their First, there'd be a Gunny moving up and that'd leave room for

her.

She'd have rather had First Sergeant Chigma back. The few Krai who went into the

Marines usually opted for armored platoons or air support- their feet just weren't built

for infantry-so those few who not only chose to be grunts but rose in the ranks left big

shoes to fill in more than merely the literal sense. Unfortunately, since Chigma had

ended up on the wrong end of an enemy projectile weapon their last planetfall...

*0759*

Maybe Med-op had scheduled the captain for new treatments at nine.

Look at the bright side, she reminded herself, laying her palm against the sensor pad

centered in the door, we're in no condition to be sent back out.

The presence of a two star general in the captain's office did not come as a pleasant

surprise. In Torin's experience, when generals ignored the chain of command to speak

directly to sergeants, it was never good news. And smiling generals were the worst

kind.

"You must be Staff Sergeant Kerr." She nodded as he stepped forward. "Sir." "Staff,

this is General Morris." The regeneration tank around the lower half of his left leg

kept Captain Rose from standing, but his voice, unexpectedly deep from such a small

man, was enough to stop the general's advance. "He has new orders for you."

"Say rather an opportunity. But don't let me interrupt." He gestured at the slate under

Torin's arm.

"I understand you've been acting First. We'll talk once you've finished your morning

report."

"Sir." Her face expressionless under the general's smiling regard, she crossed to the

desk and downloaded the relevant files. Right now, with no more information to go

on than his smile and two dozen words delivered in an annoying we're-all-in-this-

together tone, she'd be willing to bet that, first of all, General Morris had never seen

combat and, second, that Captain Rose liked him even less than she did. As the

captain appeared to know what was going on, her sense of impending disaster

strengthened.

"Doctorow's no longer critical?"

"Regained consciousness at 0300. Woke up and demanded to know what..." Given the

general's presence, she rephrased the quote. ". .. idiot had taken his implant off line."

"Good news." Quickly scanning the rest of the report, the captain looked up, brows

rising. "No one got arrested?"

"Apparently some vacuum jockeys off the Redoubt got into a disagreement with some

of our air support in Haligan's, and betting on the fight provided a sufficient

diversion."

"Wait a minute," the general interrupted, one hand raised as if to physically stop

further discussion. "Am I to understand that you expected your people to get

arrested?"

Together, Torin and the captain turned, Torin shifting position slightly, unable to

move to the captain's side but making it quite clear where she stood as he answered.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell the general what kind of planetfall we had. After some-

thing like that, I expect my people to need to blow off."

The general's broad cheeks flushed nearly maroon. "You've been on station for six

days."

"Half of us have. Sir." Like many combat officers, Captain Rose had come up through

the ranks and he'd retained the NCO's ability to place inflection on that final sir.

The two men locked eyes.

General Morris looked away first. "They say another company wouldn't have got that

many out," he admitted.

"I have good people, sir. And I lost good people." The quiet reminder drew Torin's

gaze down to the captain's face, and she frowned slightly. He looked tired; his fair

skin had developed a grayish cast, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Had

they been alone, she'd have asked how the regeneration was going; as it was, she

made a mental note to check his condition with Med-op as soon as possible. As acting

First, he was as much her concern as the company.

"Yes. Good people." General Morris straightened and cleared his throat. "Which leads

us nicely into what I'm here for."

Oh, shit. Here it comes. Torin braced herself as he aimed that I'm looking for someone to

get their tail shot off smile directly at her.

"I need a platoon for a special duty, shipping out ASAP."

"I haven't got a platoon, sir."

He looked momentarily nonplussed, then the smile returned. "Of course, I see. I

should have said, I need you to put together a platoon out of the available Marines."

"Out of what's left of Sh'quo Company, sir?"

"Yes."

"Out of the survivors, sir?"

"Yes." The general's smile had begun to tighten.

Torin figured she'd gotten as much satisfaction from that line of inquiry as she was

likely to. "A lot of them have leave coming, sir, but we should have new recruits

arriving shortly."

"No. Even if I had time to wait for new recruits, I couldn't use them." Folding his

hands behind his back in what Torin thought she recognized as parade ground rest-it

had been a long time since she'd seen a parade ground-the general fixed her with an

imposing stare. "I'm fully aware of your situation, Staff Sergeant Kerr, yours and

Sh'quo Company's, and I wouldn't be canceling leaves if it wasn't absolutely

necessary. The problem, Sergeant, is this; I'm putting together a very important diplo-

matic mission intended to convince a new race, the Silsviss, to join the Confederation

and I need an honor guard. A military escort is absolutely essential because the

political leadership of the Silsviss is dominated by a powerful warrior caste that we

most certainly do not want to insult. After careful consideration, I've decided that

Sh'quo Company is the best available unit."

"As an honor guard?" Torin glanced from the gen-

eral to her captain-who looked so noncommittal that the hope it was some kind of a

joke died unborn-and back to the general again. "We're ground combat, sir, not a

ceremonial unit."

"You'll do fine. All you have to do, Sergeant, is have the troops apply a little spit and

polish and then stand around and look menacing. You'll see new worlds, meet new

life-forms, and not shoot at them for a change." He paused for laugher that never

came, then continued gruffly. "If s a win/win situation. I won't have to pull a company

out of their rotation for planetfall-which means Sh'quo Company won't be rotated in

before it's their turn. As there's no need for heavy artillery, company equipment can

still get the overhaul it requires."

"A full platoon makes quite an honor guard, sir."

"It's essential we make a strong impression, Sergeant." For less than an instant, an

honest emotion showed in the general's eyes, but before Torin could identify it, he

added, "Besides, it'll give you a chance to break in your new second lieutenant."

"My new ..." Unable to think of anything to say to the general that wouldn't get her

court-martialed, she turned to Captain Rose. "Sir?"

"He arrived yesterday afternoon. I asked him to meet us here at 0900. The general

thought you should receive your orders first and then he could give the lieutenant the

overview."

Officers handled the big picture, NCOs handled the minutia. Part of a staff sergeant's

minutia was handling new officers in charge of their first platoon. This would be

Torin's third, staff sergeant having a slightly longer life expectancy than second

lieutenants.

The captain's door announced an arrival just as her implant proclaimed 0900.

"Open."

The door slid back into the wall and a di'Taykan wearing the uniform of a second

lieutenant, Confederation Marine Corps, walked into the office, pheromone masker

prominently displayed at his throat. It could have been any di'Taykan; Torin was no

better than most Humans at telling them apart. Male and female, they were all tall,

slender, and pointy and, even when heavily armed, moved like they were dancing.

Their hair, which wasn't really hair but a protein based sensor array, grew a uniform

three inches long so they all looked as if they went to the same barber, and with their

somewhat eclectic taste in clothing removed by the Corps ...

It could have been any di'Taykan, but it wasn't.

The lilac eyes, exactly one shade darker than his hair, widened slightly when he saw

her and slightly more when he spotted the general. "Second Lieutenant di'Ka Jarret

reporting as ordered, Captain."

"Welcome to Sh'quo Company, Lieutenant. General Morris will begin your briefing

in a moment, but in the meantime, I'd like you to meet Staff Sergeant Kerr. She'll be

your senior NCO."

The corners of the wide mouth curled slightly. "Staff."

"Sir." There were a number of things Torin figured she should be thinking about now,

but all that came to mind was, so that explains why he folded his clothes so neatly, which

wasn't even remotely relevant. She only hoped she'd managed to control her

expression by the time Captain Rose turned his too perceptive attention her way.

"Sergeant, if you could start forming that platoon ... see if you can do it without

splitting up any fireteams. The three of us ..."

She had to admire how that us definitively excluded the general.

"... will go over what you've got this afternoon."

"Yes, sir." Turning toward General Morris, she stiffened not quite to attention.

"Begging the general's pardon, but if I'm to cancel liberties, I need to know exactly

how soon ASAP is."

"Forty-eight hours."

She should've known-a desk jockey's version of as soon as possible, or in other

words, no real rush. "Thank you, sir." Retrieving her slate from the captain's desk, she

nodded at all three officers, turned on her heel, and left the room.

The general's hearty voice followed her out into the corridor.

"Lieutenant, I've got a proposal, I think you'll..."

Then she stepped beyond the proximity grid and the door slid shut.

"Figures," Torin sighed. "Officers get a proposal and the rest of us just get screwed."

Technically, she could've worked at the First's desk in the small office right next to

the captain's. All Chigma's personal files had been deleted, every trace of his

occupancy removed-it was just a desk. Smarter than any other she'd have access to,

but still, just a desk. Which was why she didn't want to use it. Sometimes it was just

too depressing to contemplate how quickly the Corps moved on.

The verticals were crowded at this hour of the morning, so she grabbed the first

available loop for the descent down to C deck, exchanging a disgusted look with a

Navy Warrant one loop over; both of them in full agreement that their careful

progress represented an irritating waste of time. By the time she finally swung out

onto the deck, Torin was ready to kill the idiot in station programming who'd decided

to inflict insipid music on trapped personnel.

"'Morning, Staff."

The cheerful greeting brought her up short, and she turned toward the Marine

kneeling by the edges of the lock with a degrimer, turquoise hair flattened by the

vibrations. The grooves could have been scrubbed automatically, but on a station

designed to house thousands of Marines, manual labor became a useful discipline.

"Maintenance duties again, Haysole?"

The di'Taykan grinned. "I was only cutting across the core. I figured I'd be there and

back before anyone noticed I wasn't wearing my masker."

"You crossed the core on a Fivesday evening unmasked-and you're only on

maintenance?"

"I kept moving, it wasn't too bad." Turquoise eyes sparkled. "Unfortunately, Sergeant

Glicksohn was also crossing the core. Uh, Staff..." He paused while a pair of Human

engineers came through the lock, waiting until they'd moved beyond their abil-

ity to overhear. "... I heard you were seeing stars in the captain's office."

Torin folded her arms around her slate. Many di'Taykan worked in Intelligence-most

species had to make a conscious effort not to confide in them. She had no idea how

need-to-know General Morris had intended to keep the status of his visit, but it was

irrelevant now. "What else have you heard, Haysole?"

He grinned, taking her lack of denial for confirmation. "I've heard that the general's

looking for a chance to be, oh, let's say more than he is."

"A promotion?"

"No one used that exact word, but..." His voice trailed off suggestively.

Torin ignored the suggestion. "Thaf s it?"

"About the general. But I've also heard that the new trilinshy is a di'Ka."

She frowned, and his grin disappeared as he realized she'd translated trilinshy to

Tanya Huff - Valor 1 - Valor's Choice

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