The Truth of Valor Read Online Free Page B

her previous career.
    “The pirates are going after salvage operators now because you’re . . . we’re,” she corrected when Craig’s grip tightened, “in small ships working independently. If they get away with it unopposed long enough, they’ll up their game and start going after more lucrative targets. Ore carriers, say.”
    “There’s a rumor unmanned ore carriers are going missing in statistically relevant numbers,” Pedro interrupted.
    “There you go. Presit tells the story, the mining cartels see the danger, they put pressure on their representatives in Parliament, Parliament pressures the Navy, and the Navy finally gets its head out of its ass.”
    “Just like that?” Pedro’s brows had risen nearly to his hairline.
    “It’s a fairly simple cascade of cause and effect.” Torin shrugged. “No guarantee, but we won’t hit anything if we don’t pull the trigger.”
    Pedro raised both hands in surrender. “I bow to your superior knowledge of violent responses.”
    When she shot him a pointed glance, Craig released her wrist.
    “Presit’s a big shot celebrity now,” he reminded her as she touched the screen of her slate. “You think she’ll even answer your call?”
    “Probably not. That’s why I’m using your account. Presit likes him,” she added to Pedro who grinned wide and white at the emphasis. “If he’d been shorter and furrier, I’d have had a fight on my hands.”
    Craig’s protests carried them the rest of the way into the center of the station and the large, open area Pedro called the market.
    Torin had seen variations on every station she’d ever been on. Social species liked to congregate, to see and be seen, to take comfort in knowing they weren’t alone. This particular market had clearly once been the shuttle bay of a large transport. The four individual bays across the narrow, inboard end had been turned into two sizable shops bracketing what looked like a popular bar.
    Torin exchanged a speaking glance with Craig about the amount of visible plastic, then stepped out of the way as half a dozen shouting kids—Human and Krai—charged past. The dominant scent seemed to be fried egg, and she wondered where the chickens were. Chickens had adapted remarkably well to space, and eggs provided a protein source that not even those Elder Races who professed to be appalled by the taking of life for food could get all more-evolved-than-thou about.
    Small kiosks, selling what looked like everything from body parts to engine parts, dotted the actual docking area although very few people seemed interested in the merchandise on display. The twenty or so people Torin could see stood around in small groups. The di’Taykan’s hair lay flat, and everyone’s body language shouted waiting for the other shoe to drop.
    Waiting to see if one of theirs had been attacked by pirates.
    No. Waiting to see if one of hers had been attacked by pirates.
    Because these were her people now.
    Given that, Torin took another look around. Used to be, she could pick her people out of a mixed group because they were part of a whole. Marines, for all the physical differences inherent in three separate species, had a similarity of movement written on bone and muscle by training and experience. Even in a crowd of civilians, they were aware of each other and could be pulled into a unit with a word.
    Their decision to take up the responsibility of defending the vast bulk of Confederation space and the nonaggressive species that lived there kept them a people apart.
    These new people had decided to live apart, their only connection that decision.
    As she followed Pedro across the docking area, she noted that Craig had been identified as one of them. A few greeted him by name, but as they were moving purposefully toward a destination, no one tried to pull him out of formation. In contrast, she had been identified as “other.” All of the children and most of the adults in the market stared openly at her. Most of