"Everyone figures the military broke him…

Torin shifted her weight. This would not be a long fight, and only one of them would survive it. She noted the minor damage she'd already suffered as potential weak points she'd have to guard. Her heart began to beat faster. In all honesty, she was just as glad he hadn't backed down.

Unfortunately, time was on his side. She couldn't wait for him to make the first move.

Doc blocked her kick, dropped, and slid under her leg. Torin twisted on the ball of her foot and the side of his fist slammed into the meaty part of her thigh instead of the joint. When she pushed off his shoulders in order to flip around and face him again, he dropped further. She used her weight to drive him into the deck, but he tucked his feet under his body and threw himself backward.

She kneed him in the kidneys. Rolled clear.

He rolled with her, crushing the fingers of her right hand against the deck.

Her kick knocked him back just far enough to free her hand, spraying the deck with blood from the split along a cracked cheekbone.

They scrambled back up onto their feet and Torin blocked a body blow. He lunged sideways and her stiffened left hand jabbed into his shoulder instead of his throat.

His arm spasmed. His other hand closed around her wrist.

Lubricated by the blood from the earlier bite, she twisted in his grip, negating most of the torque, and slammed her forehead into his nose.

His knee came up, hard. Torin felt a rib crack, but she moved with the blow and slammed the point of her other elbow into the thinner bone at his temple.

He staggered and released her but got an arm up in time to stop her from taking out his right eye-a blow actually intended to distract from the hard one, two, three jab to the solar plexus. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged and, fighting for breath, he fell to the deck.

Swiping at the blood dripping from her forehead, Torin gasped, "Stay down."

Doc didn't have breath enough to laugh, but he tried it anyway.

Teeth bloody, he surged forward, curve of his shoulders tucked under her knees, weight slamming her to the deck. Torin wrapped her legs around his neck, rolled up, and wrapped her right arm around, his chin nestled in the cup of her palm, her fingers curled uselessly against his cheek. She ignored the blow that broke the damaged rib and twisted.

The crack was loud.

Doc grunted. And exhaled.

And went limp. "Okay, the atmosphere's a match so I'm slaving the outside hatch to the inside and seeing if working them in unison will…"

Both hatches opened.

Ignoring Dysun's self-congratulatory babbling, Cho pushed past Huirre and charged out into the ore dock.

Doc would…

Doc wouldn't.

Doc dropped to the deck like a useless piece of crap, body collapsing into the boneless sprawl of the newly dead. Big Bill's gunnery sergeant stood.

Cho rocked to a stop. Wiping away the blood that continued dripping from her forehead, right arm pressed against her ribs, right hand cradled against her chest, Torin turned toward the sound of running footsteps.

Mackenzie Cho stood staring, eyes wide, mouth open, about five meters from his air lock.

Torin smiled and started toward him.

Doc had done the damage, but Cho had given the orders. Time to make Cho pay. The look the gunnery sergeant had been shooting him earlier in the storage pod had been Doc's crazy under control look. This look, this matched Doc's crazy out of control on every point-only Cho had never seen it directed at him. This look didn't say, I'm going to kill you. It said, You're a dead man.

No doubt. No question.

Absolute certainty.

He needed to run. Run now.

He couldn't move, held in place by the awareness of his approaching death.

Where the hell was Huirre? Huirre had the tasiks. Huirre should be here, beside him. He shouldn't be standing alone, that's why he had fukking crew!

"Torin!"

Ryder. Still closer to the hatch than the gunnery sergeant but quickly closing the distance between them. To Cho's surprise, the gunnery sergeant jerked to a reluctant stop. Craig hadn't expected Torin to stop. He'd hoped. If he'd had time, he'd have prayed, but he hadn't expected it.

When she turned, he wished he was closer. Wished he was far enough away he couldn't see the look on her face.

"Don't." No need for him to elaborate. They both knew what he meant.

Torin spat a mouthful of blood out onto the deck. "He deserves…"

"Not arguing." Almost to her now, Craig cut her off. "But what he deserves and what you should do about it… Torin, it's not who you are. It's not what you are."

Her expression was pure Doc. Her mouth twisted into something that in no way resembled a smile. "I've killed before."

"I know." Here and now, there were three bodies on the deck. Although he'd killed one of them and wasn't going to think too hard about that until they'd come out the other side of a Susumi fold and were safely away. "But there's a difference between killing and…" Fuk! He sketched meanings in the air. "… killing." Torin knew what Craig meant. Probably better than he did. The differences between killing officers and murdering officers had come with Humans into space. Had come with the Krai and with the di'Taykan. Professionals recognized the difference.

Cho was the latter.

He'd used Doc, used the broken pieces of the man as a weapon.

Cho had taken the chance Craig had offered, turned, ran for the Heart. Torin could order Ressk to secure the air lock. Hell, she could probably use the rage still sizzling under her skin and catch the son of a bitch before he reached the air lock. Make him pay for… for everything. For Sirin and Jan. For Sergeant Rogelio Page. For the destruction of the Promise.

For Craig. For taking him. For everything that had happened to him.

For Doc, when it came down to it. *Gunny!* Werst sounded like he'd been trying to get her attention for a while.*Ressk has control, but it won't last. What do you want him to do?*

That depended on what she was going to do, didn't it?

"… you give us…" Mashona looked at Ressk. Ressk looked at Werst. Werst half shrugged, making the usual Krai cock-up of the movement. "… grounding. Direction."

But Torin had heard, Something to believe in, in the pause.

All those years at war and she'd never hated the enemy. She'd done what she had to in order to complete the mission and get her people out alive. What she had to. Not what she wanted to. Not even what she thought she needed to.

This wasn't what she was. If she let rage make her into a weapon, however justified the rage, where would it stop? And, once over the line, how much easier the second time? And the time after that?

How many times could she cross the line and still be able to cross back?

How many times had Doc?

Craig had been freed, but the armory was still in enemy hands.

She had a mission to complete and people to get out alive.

When she let the rage go, her knees nearly buckled.

"Turn off the gravity." Another mouthful of blood spat away from the implant. "Open the doors." *Gunny, you're not suited up. Neither of you.*

Craig had reached her side. Torin sagged against him, breathing shallowly. "Give us three minutes…"

"Five," Craig corrected. And she remembered that Ressk had patched both implants into the ship's signal.

"Five," she agreed. "If we can't get suited up in five minutes, we deserve to blow out with the armory."

Cho reached the air lock.

Torin's good hand closed into a fist around a handful of Craig's overalls. On their way to the lockers, she paused, reached down, and closed Doc's eyes.

In her experience, the dead did not look at peace. They looked dead.