Free The Better Part of Valor by Tanya Huff

shrugged. “He’s an engineer, who the fuk knows?”
    “I, myself, am wondering,” Dursinski put in from her place by the pool table, “if Staff’s so worried about our asses, why’s she not doing the inventory check?”
    Nivry glanced up from her slate. “She got invited to dinner in the Chief’s and PO’s Mess.”
    “How do you know that?” Dursinski demanded.
    “Harrop and I were going over squad assignments with her when the invite came in from some warrant officer. He’s a friend from other trips on the
Berg.
Human, so, after dinner,they probably won’t…” She dropped her attention back to her slate. “…have dessert.”
    “She doesn’t really mean dessert, does she?” Guimond asked as he and Orla left the room. The hatch cut off the di’Taykan’s laughter.
    “What a fukking moron,” Werst grunted.
    Nivry caught Harrop’s eye and shrugged. When making up the squads, the two corporals had decided to keep Werst and Guimond together—the Human’s size and good nature making up for Werst’s lack of either—and Nivry had drawn the short straw. “What do you have against him?” she demanded.
    “You’ve got the double hooks,” the Krai snorted, “you figure it out.”
    “Let’s assume I got them for good looks—not brains—and you tell me.”
    “Whatever. Fine.” Werst drained his mug, crushing it in one hand as he stood. “August Guimond’s a big, sweet guy, good-looking by Human standards, and everyone likes him—why don’t we just paint a fukking target on him now and get it over with? You all know he’s exactly the sort of guy who gets shot first when his squad hits combat.” His voice rose an octave. “They shot Guimond! That lousy
serley chrika
shot Guimond!” And dropped back down to a growl. “Then we spend the rest of the mission winning one for poor August. No, thank you.” He slammed the crushed mug into the recycler hard enough for its bounce to be clearly audible then, growling inarticulately, stomped out of the room.
    “What was that all about?” Harrop wondered.
    Nivry shook her head. “I have no idea.”
    *   *   *
    Chief Warrant Officer Dave Graham waited for the heckling to stop before raising his stein. “Thank you. And here’s to the riggers of Black Star Squadron, the best in the fleet!”
    Torin raised her stein with the rest. As Dave sat down amidst renewed noise, she leaned toward him and said, “Should I be grateful a brand new, high and mighty chief warrant lowers himself to eat with a lowly staff sergeant?”
    He grinned. “You should be grateful I lower myself to eat with a Marine.”
    “You know, I’d heard you were drinking accelerant again.”
    “How’s the steak?”
    “Great, thanks.” She cut off another hunk of meat and chewed happily. The Navy ate well, that was for damned sure. “If I was your master chief, I’d be watching my back. You keep getting promoted at this rate and you’ll have her job in five.”
    “I dunno, master chief’s job gets pretty political. I think I’d rather keep my hands on the machinery. You can trust a thruster to be a thruster.” He washed down a mouthful of braised
tabros
with a swallow of beer. “But people…”
    “Speaking of, I think I met one of yours on the way in. I got a ride from MidSector with a Lieutenant Commander Sibley and I’m having a vague memory of black stars on his Jade.”
    “Yeah, Sibley’s one of ours. Good pilot, but a little too fond of bad puns, if you ask me.”
    “I seem to have escaped unscathed.”
    “He must’ve been on his best behavior.”
    Torin remembered the multiple accelerations and angles as they left the station. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
    “Well, he’ll be out scouting for you when we reach the ship. Black Star and the Red Maces pulled flyby duty—orders came down this afternoon.”
    “Two squadrons?”
    “It’s a big ship. Brass wants to know as much as they can before they send you lot in.”
    “We lot appreciate