Free Fatal Blade (Decker's War#3) by Eric Thomson

did.  No wonder you swabbies get fat in shipboard billets,” Decker commented around a mouthful of vat-grown beef.  “What now?”
    “I have us programmed to emerge in interstellar space.  When we get there, and the coast is clear, I’ll reprogram the identification beacon.  While I do that, you get to go outside and shift some of the hull panels to change our silhouette.”
    “And change the markings,” he added before shoving another forkful into his mouth.  “Great times will be had by all.”
    “Then I’ve got to think of our next steps.  I was hoping someone on Kilia might help us trace the Garonne rebels’ suppliers, so we could work our way to whoever’s behind the funding, but that’s no longer an option.”
    “We might find it just as challenging wherever we go. Considering they had goons breathing down the chandler’s neck, I’m not sure we’ll get lucky anywhere else along the Rim.”
    “That leaves me wondering whether there’s still a leak at HQ or whether some people are just extra paranoid, and I don’t necessarily mean about the things we’re after.  The Jackals might be in the Sécurité Spéciale ’s pockets, but that doesn’t mean they’re not running their own operations.  I can’t see government work, even if it’s for the SecGen’s pet spies, paying enough.”
    “What kind of a universe is this anyways,” he replied, picking a strand of meat from his teeth, “when honest gangsters get in bed with the secret police?  At least the Shrehari have enough honor to blow themselves up.  I’ll take boneheads over mobsters any day.”
    “You mean take on, don’t you?”
    “That too.”  He burped contentedly.  “How long is this leg?”
    “About ten hours.”
    “That means I have time for a nice cold one.”
    “I’ll join you.  It might help me figure out our next move.”
    “Good plan.  It always helps with my moves.”  He leered at her, then he reached into the cold box and grabbed two bottles.
    “I’ll bet, you incorrigible lecher.”
    “Ever heard the one about the hooker and the Marine?”
    “Yes, and I don’t want to hear it again.  Thanks,” she said accepting a bottle.  “Hanging around with you is giving me some atrocious habits.  I used to hate this stuff.”
    “Honey, hang around with me long enough, and I’ll make you love just about anything.”
    “That’s what I’m afraid of.”  She raised her bottle.  “Congratulations, Zack.  That was a half-decent Q-ship surprise you pulled on the Shrehari, for a Marine, I mean.”
    “I’ll let Admiral Dunmoore know next time we’re on Caledonia.  Mud in your eye, swabbie.”  He took a healthy swig and sighed.  “The water of life, this stuff.”
    ***
    “Fun, fun, fun,” Decker muttered under his breath, shuffling out the aft airlock.  Magnetic soles under his pressure suit boots made the spacewalk feel like a slog through a thick mire.
    “What was that?”  The radio crackled in his ears.
    “Nothing you need to worry about.  Just make sure you don’t accidentally go FTL while I’m outside.”
    “If I go FTL while you’re outside, it won’t be by accident.”
    “Nice to know you’ve got my back.”  He crept up the hull towards the superstructure where shifting a few panels would make a noticeable change to the ship’s silhouette.
    “Why is it me who gets to do the hard work anyway?”  He asked, contemplating the first piece of the camouflage puzzle.
    “Remember when this ship was still a floating brothel?  Remember the mirror on the deckhead in the main stateroom?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Remember seeing us side by side in bed, in our birthday suits?”
    “Of course.  Good times.”
    “Then I’m sure you didn’t fail to notice the size and musculature differences between us.  Big boys get to do big boy jobs.”
    “Sexist.”
    “I also outrank you.”
    “Hierarchist.”
    He attached a handling frame to the first panel and undogged the clamps holding it to the