"Tanya Huff - Valor 1 - Valor's Choice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Huff Tanya)

The door slid back into the wall and a di'Taykan wearing the uniform of a second
lieutenant, Confederation Marine Corps, walked into the office, pheromone masker
prominently displayed at his throat. It could have been any di'Taykan; Torin was no
better than most Humans at telling them apart. Male and female, they were all tall,
slender, and pointy and, even when heavily armed, moved like they were dancing.
Their hair, which wasn't really hair but a protein based sensor array, grew a uniform
three inches long so they all looked as if they went to the same barber, and with their
somewhat eclectic taste in clothing removed by the Corps ...
It could have been any di'Taykan, but it wasn't.
The lilac eyes, exactly one shade darker than his hair, widened slightly when he saw
her and slightly more when he spotted the general. "Second Lieutenant di'Ka Jarret
reporting as ordered, Captain."
"Welcome to Sh'quo Company, Lieutenant. General Morris will begin your briefing
in a moment, but in the meantime, I'd like you to meet Staff Sergeant Kerr. She'll be
your senior NCO."
The corners of the wide mouth curled slightly. "Staff."
"Sir." There were a number of things Torin figured she should be thinking about now,
but all that came to mind was, so that explains why he folded his clothes so neatly, which
wasn't even remotely relevant. She only hoped she'd managed to control her
expression by the time Captain Rose turned his too perceptive attention her way.
"Sergeant, if you could start forming that platoon ... see if you can do it without
splitting up any fireteams. The three of us ..."
She had to admire how that us definitively excluded the general.
"... will go over what you've got this afternoon."
"Yes, sir." Turning toward General Morris, she stiffened not quite to attention.
"Begging the general's pardon, but if I'm to cancel liberties, I need to know exactly
how soon ASAP is."
"Forty-eight hours."
She should've known-a desk jockey's version of as soon as possible, or in other
words, no real rush. "Thank you, sir." Retrieving her slate from the captain's desk, she
nodded at all three officers, turned on her heel, and left the room.
The general's hearty voice followed her out into the corridor.
"Lieutenant, I've got a proposal, I think you'll..."
Then she stepped beyond the proximity grid and the door slid shut.
"Figures," Torin sighed. "Officers get a proposal and the rest of us just get screwed."
Technically, she could've worked at the First's desk in the small office right next to
the captain's. All Chigma's personal files had been deleted, every trace of his
occupancy removed-it was just a desk. Smarter than any other she'd have access to,
but still, just a desk. Which was why she didn't want to use it. Sometimes it was just
too depressing to contemplate how quickly the Corps moved on.
The verticals were crowded at this hour of the morning, so she grabbed the first
available loop for the descent down to C deck, exchanging a disgusted look with a
Navy Warrant one loop over; both of them in full agreement that their careful
progress represented an irritating waste of time. By the time she finally swung out
onto the deck, Torin was ready to kill the idiot in station programming who'd decided
to inflict insipid music on trapped personnel.
"'Morning, Staff."
The cheerful greeting brought her up short, and she turned toward the Marine
kneeling by the edges of the lock with a degrimer, turquoise hair flattened by the
vibrations. The grooves could have been scrubbed automatically, but on a station