Free Valor's Trial by Tanya Huff Page A

gentled her voice. “We’ll sleep here tonight and start for the pipe at your best speed first thing tomorrow.”
    â€œMe? With you?”
    â€œYes.”
    Wiry muscle tensed in her grip. “He threw me away.”
    â€œHis mistake. Now, he pays for it.”
    If Harnett killed her on sight, he won, but Torin was willing to play the odds that power had made him cocky. It was a good thing Kyster couldn’t see her smile. He was Krai and he’d know a show of teeth for what it was.

THREE
    THE TUNNEL COMPLEX SEEMED TO have been laid out completely randomly. The pattern of turns and cross tunnels leading toward the pipe made no logical sense and more than explained Kyster’s difficulty in sketching her a map, rock against rock, on the tunnel floor.
    It was alien.
    Random, therefore, was no real surprise. One species’ random was another species’ logical progression.
    Any contact the Confederation had managed to have with the Others over the long years of the war had resulted in either dead diplomats or combat situations. Neither allowed for the kind of familiarity that would give Torin any insight into how they built prisons. Particularly since, until yesterday, she’d believed they didn’t take prisoners.
    That belief was either a lie by politicians who didn’t want to commit the resources necessary to retrieve said prisoners—for varying values of retrieve —or the Others were a lot slicker than anyone in either branch of the military had ever given them credit for. Following Kyster through the tunnels toward the pipe, Torin decided that the second option was the better choice. She had no emotional investment in the enemy being smarter than anticipated, but believing her own government had thoroughly screwed over their military would make her so furious she wouldn’t be able to think straight, and dealing with Colonel Harnett would require a clear head.
    If things went well, she’d have a go at cursing the government later.
    Kyster paused at the next corner, and Torin dropped to one knee, putting her head by his—a necessary move given the height difference. “Hunting parties come out this far,” he whispered pointing across the t-junction.
    Recon glyphs. Torin’s lip curled. The last hunting party had passed this point two days before. Nothing found.
    â€œThey don’t go careful,” Kyster continued, looking up and locking his gaze on hers, trying to convince her of the importance of his words. “You hear them, you get into the closest cave and climb up. Be out of sight.”
    The small caves had been dug out of the tunnel walls at random intervals—or the pattern was too large for her to recognize it. “Don’t they check all the caves for incomers?”
    â€œYeah.” The edges of his mouth curled up. “But they never look up.” On a Krai, what looked like a happy smile added the stupid serley fukkers to the statement.
    Torin’s answering smile said much the same thing.
    She’d woken that morning just before he had. The cave remained dark, but something told her the lights were back on in the tunnels—a subliminal hum of power, perhaps. Although planetborn, she’d spent enough of her adult life on stations and ships that she found comfort in the background noise of things actually working—things like lights and air scrubbers. During the night, Kyster had moved close, tucking his hand up under the edge of her vest and hanging on, his grip desperate enough she couldn’t break it without waking him. Young as he was, he was still a Marine and being caught exhibiting that kind of need, no matter how justifiable given what he’d been through, would embarrass any of the three species in the Corps. So she waited, her own comfort the salvage tag clutched so tightly that the edges pressed into her palm on the edge of pain.
    Pain was good. It meant she was alive.
    Craig would have been