Read Online The Better Part of Valor by Tanya Huff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tanya Huff
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what difference does it make?
Torin demanded silently.
You don’t have to figure him out, you merely have to endure him.
“Okay, you know how to work in a suit. I’d still like to see you come out for the team simulations, if only to get my people used to having you hide behind them.”
“When?”
“Day after tomorrow. In the afternoon.” That would give them the morning to run the course without him, to shake down the squads, and make necessary changes to both personnel and equipment. She refocused to find him watching her from under the edge of thick lashes.
“So, what’s happening tomorrow?”
“The remaining individual simulations—the ones you’ve convinced me you don’t need.”
“Maybe I’ll come by anyway.”
“You’d be a distraction.”
“You find me a distraction, Staff Sergeant?” The question was almost coy.
“I find anything outside the mission parameters a distraction, Mr. Ryder.” Weight back on her heels, Torin folded her arms and met his gaze. “You rank right up there with hangovers and hemorrhoids.”
The skin around his eyes creased into laugh lines as his smile broadened. “You know, I was starting to think you didn’t have a sense of humor.”
“I don’t. Day after tomorrow, afternoon; if you don’t want to bring your own equipment, I’m sure we can find a suit to fit you.”
* * *
Craig Ryder stood at the top of the ramp and took a couple of long steadying breaths before he stepped into the
Promise
and punched the inner hatch closed. That had been too close. Staff Sergeant Kerr had been one long stride away from being inside.
In his personal space.
His.
Bunk, bench, table, screen, dishes; he touched each in order, then spun the control chair once around and sat. The familiar sink and sway in reaction to his weight helped, but he still drifted a hand over each of the controls in turn before he leaned back and swung his feet up onto the precise place he’d rested them a thousand, a million times before—the place where his heels had worn the finish off the edge of the control panel.
His place.
After a long moment, he leaned back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t quite made up his mind about attending the simulation although he suspected he’d go if only for the pleasure of continuing to annoy Staff Sergeant Kerr.
And to keep her from making a return visit.
“All right, then.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to say.
* * *
“Hey, Werst, Staff’s sending me down to the armory to make sure the guys back at MidSector actually loaded whatinventory says they loaded.” Guimond grinned down at the top of the Krai’s head. “She says I should take someone with me; you up?”
“No. I’m busy.”
“Come on, you’re sitting on your ass drinking
sah
, how busy is that?”
“I’m busy resting.”
“Right, ’cause you’ll be first through the sim in the morning, which is at least ten hours away.” He slid a long step to his right, just far enough to bend and peer into Werst’s face. “Come on.”
Werst’s attention remained on the contents of his mug. “Fuk off.”
“I’ll go with you, Guimond.” Orla stood and tossed her empty beer pouch into the recycler in one lithe move. She crossed to the big Human’s side and rubbed her shoulder against his. “Maybe we can find something else to count while we’re down there.”
“I’ve still got the same one I had yesterday,” Guimond grinned. “But we have to do the inventory check first. Staff says MidSector’s not used to loading for Recon and she doesn’t want us going in with our asses hanging out.”
“Staff said that?”
“Those very words.”
Johnston glanced up from the circuit board he’d pulled out of the food dispenser, magnification lenses silvering his eyes to a di’Taykan monochrome. “Who’d have thought Staff would be so articulate?”
Golden brows drew in as Guimond turned to Orla, looking confused. “What’s he talking about?”
She
Torin demanded silently.
You don’t have to figure him out, you merely have to endure him.
“Okay, you know how to work in a suit. I’d still like to see you come out for the team simulations, if only to get my people used to having you hide behind them.”
“When?”
“Day after tomorrow. In the afternoon.” That would give them the morning to run the course without him, to shake down the squads, and make necessary changes to both personnel and equipment. She refocused to find him watching her from under the edge of thick lashes.
“So, what’s happening tomorrow?”
“The remaining individual simulations—the ones you’ve convinced me you don’t need.”
“Maybe I’ll come by anyway.”
“You’d be a distraction.”
“You find me a distraction, Staff Sergeant?” The question was almost coy.
“I find anything outside the mission parameters a distraction, Mr. Ryder.” Weight back on her heels, Torin folded her arms and met his gaze. “You rank right up there with hangovers and hemorrhoids.”
The skin around his eyes creased into laugh lines as his smile broadened. “You know, I was starting to think you didn’t have a sense of humor.”
“I don’t. Day after tomorrow, afternoon; if you don’t want to bring your own equipment, I’m sure we can find a suit to fit you.”
* * *
Craig Ryder stood at the top of the ramp and took a couple of long steadying breaths before he stepped into the
Promise
and punched the inner hatch closed. That had been too close. Staff Sergeant Kerr had been one long stride away from being inside.
In his personal space.
His.
Bunk, bench, table, screen, dishes; he touched each in order, then spun the control chair once around and sat. The familiar sink and sway in reaction to his weight helped, but he still drifted a hand over each of the controls in turn before he leaned back and swung his feet up onto the precise place he’d rested them a thousand, a million times before—the place where his heels had worn the finish off the edge of the control panel.
His place.
After a long moment, he leaned back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t quite made up his mind about attending the simulation although he suspected he’d go if only for the pleasure of continuing to annoy Staff Sergeant Kerr.
And to keep her from making a return visit.
“All right, then.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to say.
* * *
“Hey, Werst, Staff’s sending me down to the armory to make sure the guys back at MidSector actually loaded whatinventory says they loaded.” Guimond grinned down at the top of the Krai’s head. “She says I should take someone with me; you up?”
“No. I’m busy.”
“Come on, you’re sitting on your ass drinking
sah
, how busy is that?”
“I’m busy resting.”
“Right, ’cause you’ll be first through the sim in the morning, which is at least ten hours away.” He slid a long step to his right, just far enough to bend and peer into Werst’s face. “Come on.”
Werst’s attention remained on the contents of his mug. “Fuk off.”
“I’ll go with you, Guimond.” Orla stood and tossed her empty beer pouch into the recycler in one lithe move. She crossed to the big Human’s side and rubbed her shoulder against his. “Maybe we can find something else to count while we’re down there.”
“I’ve still got the same one I had yesterday,” Guimond grinned. “But we have to do the inventory check first. Staff says MidSector’s not used to loading for Recon and she doesn’t want us going in with our asses hanging out.”
“Staff said that?”
“Those very words.”
Johnston glanced up from the circuit board he’d pulled out of the food dispenser, magnification lenses silvering his eyes to a di’Taykan monochrome. “Who’d have thought Staff would be so articulate?”
Golden brows drew in as Guimond turned to Orla, looking confused. “What’s he talking about?”
She
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