Gears of War: Anvil Gate by Karen Traviss Page B

Just grow out of it before Sam does some special Kashkuri needlework on you.”
    “She’s not going to put any of her frigging tattoos on me.”
    “Not talking about ink, Baird …”
    “What?”
    “Ask Hoffman. A chat we had once, about some of the things he saw in Kashkur during the war. Nasty.”
    Baird was instantly consumed by morbid curiosity. “You’re just trying to freak me.”
    Dom shrugged and said nothing. One of the Gorasni crewmen diverted the conversation by greeting them with an outstretched grimy hand. Baird hesitated before taking it, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Sam.
    “And this is Private Byrne,” he said. “She’s here to cook and swab the decks.”
    Sam clenched her jaw. It wasn’t for effect; it was too brief. Baird could see that she didn’t want him to know he could get to her, but it was too late for that. Now he knew the trigger. He’d use it when he had to.
    It was just self-defense, nothing more. He wasn’t bullying her.
    “Corporal Baird likes hospital food,” she said. The Gorasni looked her over and didn’t make it to eye level. “And
you’ll
learn to like it if you check me out one more time, Indie boy.”
    The guy bowed with a flourish and indicated the foredeck. “Our humble ship is yours,
duchashka
. I shall keep my unworthy eyes to myself.”
    Baird reminded himself to stop assuming the Indies didn’t understand what was being said to them just because they gabbled away in their own language most of the time. Despite himself, he almost liked their attitude. And the trawlers weren’t going to spend weeks away like factory ships. Baird decided it wouldn’t be so bad being stuck in this tub for a couple of days if the Gorasni provided some amusement. It was a run-down boat. There’d be plenty of interesting new Indie stuff to dismantle and fix, and he could lose himself in that for hours. CPO Muller was in charge. He’d let Baird nose around even if the Gorasni crewmen didn’t like it.
    Yeah, a bit of diversion. But I’d rather be capping assholes back on the island
.
    The boat vibrated as it picked up speed and made its way out of the basin into open water. The sun was coming up, the overnightrain had stopped, and the thinning clouds showed all the makings of a nice day. In a couple of hours, they’d be on station in the fishing grounds to keep a watch on the small trawler fleet in case of another pirate attack. All in all, it was a routine day.
    Baird leaned on the control panel in the wheelhouse and scanned the horizon through binoculars. The Gorasni helmsman just looked at him, nodded silently, and went back to staring dead ahead at the bow with one hand on the wheel. Sam had taken up position on the gun mounted on the foredeck without being asked. Dom wandered up to chat with her for a while and then came back inside to check the radar.
    He leaned on the console next to Baird. “Don’t you think it’s kind of sick that we’re taking care of those Stranded guys until they’re fit enough for Trescu to beat the shit out of them? Because that’s what’s going to happen.”
    Baird shrugged. “Yeah. Total waste of medical resources. And are those assholes in the same ward as our guys? Now that
is
sick.”
    “I meant—ah, forget it.”
    “What? What did I say?”
    The Gorasni helmsman grunted. “Waste, all right. Better to ask them questions while they still
hurt.
”
    If Dom wanted a discussion on rules of engagement, he’d picked the wrong time. “Okay, I’ll leave you and your new buddy to discuss morality,” he said. “I just think it’s
wrong.
”
    “Don’t mind him,” Baird said to the helmsman. “He’s the nice guy. I’m the realist.”
    Some things had been a lot easier when the grubs were around. Baird hadn’t had the time—or the option—to think about anything beyond making it through the day alive. He’d been scared shitless. Now he was finding he missed that clarity. What else did he expect? Fighting Locust had