The Shorter Parts of Valor by Tanya Huff

Author:Tanya Huff [Huff, Tanya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781625675934
Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

To Dust We Shall Return

My story for the Zombies Needs Brains anthology Apocalyptic required…something suitably apocalyptic. But an apocalyptic story has to be dark. I couldn’t see a way around that, and I just don’t write a lot of dark. Well, not that dark, anyway. Fortunately, in the Valor-verse I’d set up an intergalactic war, and the way I figured it, if you have an intergalactic war then at some point you're going to have a planetary apocalypse and the only big question remaining concerns the timing of Torin’s arrival.

The ending of “To Dust We Shall Return“ is intended to be a “The Lady or the Tiger” ending (Do they still teach that story? Well, never mind, Google knows.) but if you've read the last Torin Kerr Peacekeeper book (The Privilege of Peace) you'll have a better idea of which door to open.

“Where’s Dr. Alison?” Nostril ridges clamped shut, Dirnir leaned out around Bogdan’s bulk and squinted toward the barely visible sled.

“She wouldn’t leave her lab.” Bogdan shrugged, large enough the movement made visible ripples in the blowing dust. “I had a choice: pick her up and carry her, or assume that as an adult she could make her own decisions.” He brushed his gloved hand over his filter, clearing away the layer of dirt. “Who knows, maybe she can find a way to stop the storms.”

The winds dropped and, just for an instant, Dirnir thought she could see a patch of blue. The high, dry plateau where the three colonies had been dropped had been chosen because of the ore, but it hadn’t been a bad place to live. Not a great place perhaps, too few sizable trees for that, but not a bad place.

And then, eleven point two tendays in, the first storm had hit. It had lasted four days. Wind lifting dirt and pushing it into noses and machinery both.

Then the second hit.

Then the third.

The fourth storm had lasted two weeks. By the time it ended, they were nearly out of full-face filters—and as mining colonies, they’d arrived with enough filters to keep the ore coming regardless of conditions underground. The constant abrasion had stripped gardens down to bare stalks. The local wildlife had disappeared.

When the fifth storm rolled in, Voice of the Company had finally admitted this was more than they could handle on their own and had sent a message back to headquarters.

Sixth.

Seventh.

The storms got longer and the time between them shorter.

Eighth.

“Dirnir?”

She started and shook her head, adjusting her grip on the cable they’d strung between the mine and the anchor so she could turn around. “Let’s get inside.”

“Any word from…”

“No.”

* * *

“I can see you’re broken up about the delay, Sarge.” Private First Class Mari Opizzi grinned up at Torin. “I bet you’ve been looking forward to those eight weeks in Ventris, all spiffy in your Class Cs, minding your manners and learning how to do a job you’re already doing.”

Torin glanced down. The shorter woman wore a black T-shirt, ancient combat trousers, and a pair of boots with a gouge across the right toe—the RECON default uniform.

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