The Better Part of Valor Read Free Page B

and over time they’d grown almost organically.
    “Like a tumor,” Torin muttered, heading for the nearest transit node. OutSector stations had been designed for the military after the start of the war and were a lot more efficient. She hoped that when informed of her arrival her pilot had kept right on with whatever it was a vj did when he wasn’t flying or fighting with Marine pilots because they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.
    At the node, she wasn’t really surprised to find a link had just left. Given the way her day had been going, she wouldn’t have been surprised to have found the links shut down for unscheduled maintenance and that she was supposed to cover roughly eight kilometers of station on foot.
    Ours is not to question why.
    A trite saying rapidly on its way to becoming a mantra.
    By the time the next link arrived, the platform had become crowded. A trio of di’Taykan officers at the far end—pink, teal, and lavender hair—provided a visual aid for anyone who wondered why the Corps had switched to black uniforms and about forty civilians filled the space in between, including four representatives of a species Torin couldn’t identify.
    There were also a number of Katrien. Hard to count because they were shorter than many of the other species but easy to spot since every single one of them appeared to be talking—sometimes to other Katrien, who were also talking. MidSector was close to their home system, which explained the numbers. Torin watched only the occasional broadcast coming out of the Core but she seemed to remember a Katrien news program announcing that their Trading Cartel had taken over a significant number of both X- and Y-axis routes.
    When the link finally arrived, Torin took a center seat, plugged her slate into a data console, and ran “alien ship dead in space,” then “ship of unknown origins,” paying a little extra for a secure search. Nothing.
Great, the one time I could use a little help from the media, General Morris managed to keep the lid on.
    Impressive if only because the Marines had arrived in more than one contested system to find the media there first.
    At her final node, Torin had her link to herself and at the end of the line stepped out onto an empty platform. Four Katrien bounced out of the link behind her and one out of the link behind that. Although she hadn’t paid much attention to fur patterns, the dark glasses on the single Katrien, now hurrying to join the others, seemed familiar.
    I’m in friendly territory
, Torin reminded herself.
No reason to assume I’m being followed. Two different people could easily be wearing the same expensive eyewear.
    But she crossed the platform toward them anyway—paranoia and survival instinct were two sides of the same coin when the job description involved being targeted by projectile weapons. The single Katrien cut off a high-pitched and incomprehensible flow of sound as she reached the group, and all five turned toward her.
    She scowled down at the source of her disquiet. “Do I know you?”
    A heavyset individual—Torin didn’t know enough about the Katrien to assume gender—spread hands that looked like black latex gloves extending from the sleeves of a fur coat, and replied in a friendly sounding torrent of its own language.
    *Translation not available.*
    “Do any of you speak Federate?”
    A second torrent, even friendlier sounding than the first.
    *Translation not available.*
    All five were now smiling toothily, the Katrien who might or might not have been following her a little toothier than the rest. Torin knew better than to make cross-species generalizations, but it looked smug. If they were living on station, they spoke Federate; no question they were being deliberate pains in the ass. Maybe they disliked the military on principle. Many of the Elder Races were pacifists—to the point of extinction when the Others showed up which was, after all, why the Humans, di’Taykan, and Krai had been