The Heart of Valour by Tanya Huff Page B

hair flipped in the general direction of the recruits’ common room. “…I’d better get back in there; Connie’s alone with the horde. Gunny.”
    “Staff.” Since she had no reason to watch him walk to the common room hatch, Torin entered her own quarters, crossed the room, and frowned down at the matte black surface of the desk. She’d never had a conversation with a di’Taykan so devoid of innuendo. Staff Sergeant Beyhn hadn’t reacted with as much as a raised brow to either the major being overheated or the prospect of Sergeant Jiir having enough to do to keep warm. And, as disturbing as it might be when it concerned her old drill instructor, Humans always felt a low level of attraction to the di’Taykan, even with the maskers. Since the di’Taykan were doing everything they could to neutralize this, susceptible members of the Confederation learned to ignore it.
    There had been nothing to ignore with Staff Sergeant Beyhn. There was nothing there.
    Dropping into the chair, she called up all available medical files on the di’Taykan. If the staff sergeant was coming down with something, it would be best to catch it before he was dropped into a Crucible winter with thirty-two recruits, a convalescent major, and a civilian doctor.
    She found nothing that listed lack of overt libido—hers and his—as a symptom and had to assume that his masker was just more efficient than most. If it was blocking enough of the pheromones to drop them under the levels even his own species could scent, then it was no wonder that Jonin had gotten upset. To the younger male’s senses, it would be as if his senior DI had become a walking, talking mannequin.
    Although…
    None of the other di’Taykan recruits seemed affected—or, more accurately, none of the other recruits had come to her with the problem. The best solution seemed to involve taking a closer look at the rest of the platoon before she came to a decision about approaching the sergeant. Facing down a thousand Silsviss had less potential for disaster than coming between a senior DI and his platoon right before Crucible.
    * * *
    There were a group of Krai working the ropes over in a corner, but, otherwise, Torin had the
NirWentry
’s larboard gym to herself. She didn’t much like treadmills, but 0530 of day two in Susumi space had seen the Marine packet filled with recruits pounding along the corridors and up and down ladders over the convoluted five k course their DIs had worked out. A few moments’ observation had shown no di’Taykan, including Jonin, having any obvious difficulties as they passed Staff Sergeant Beyhn and yelled out the nine-digit core of their seventeen-digit ID number, so she headed off-packet for a little peace and quiet.
    Not even vacuum jockeys ran through the convoluted corridors of the big destroyers and either the starboard gym was the more popular or not many members of the
NirWentry
’s crew worked out this early.
    She’d just hit the three k mark and was starting to pick up speed when Major Svensson stepped through the hatch followed by a yawning Dr. Sloan. They both acknowledged her. Then, to her surprise, as the major headed for the resistance machines Dr. Sloan claimed one of the other treadmills, docking her slate and slipping on a visor. Had she been asked, Torin would have said that the doctor was there only to observe the major’s workout. Just as well she hadn’t been asked since she hated to be wrong.
    She also hated not being able to see where she was actually putting her feet, but, given the new contours of her treadmill, the doctor had no such problem and preferred an environment that involved goat tracks corkscrewing up the side of mountains.
    A fast two kilometers later, dripping sweat onto the deck, Torin crossed to see if the major needed a hand. He’d set his weight station into an ergometer configuration. As he sweated and swore and struggled to complete his last few reps, she checked the data pad.
    “Sir, these