Throne of Stars by David Weber, John Ringo

the trained war- civan Prince Rastar and his men favored, were much more intelligent than most humans might have thought upon meeting them for the first time. But what they most definitely were not was cute or cuddly. In fact, any civan tended to have the temper of an Old Earth grizzly bear with a bad tooth. The temperament—and training—of those selected as cavalry mounts only exacerbated that natural tendency. Which was why the civan stalled along the sides of Snarleyow ’s upper cargo deck were “tethered” (if that was the proper verb for it) not with halters or ropes, but with five-point chain tie-downs.
    Even so, the Mardukans charged with their care and feeding were extremely careful about how close they got to the beasts’ axlike jaws and razor-sharp, metal-shod fighting claws. For herself, Kosutic was delighted to have a training space, be it ever so hot, dank, and smelly, in which she didn’t have to worry about losing a limb because she strayed too close to a civan in a worse mood than usual.
    Of course, at the moment, she was in a worse mood than usual, and she shook her head, then gestured for the other two NCOs to follow her. She led them to the forwardmost end of the hold, then turned to face them.
    “Options,” she said quietly, and Julian wiped away a drop of sweat and shook his head.
    “He’s good, Smaj. Very good. But he won’t stay focused on defense.”
    “He’s too used to having us do that for him,” Despreaux pointed out. “He’s used to barreling through the opposition while we cover his back. Now you’re barreling through the course, and he’s supposed to cover your back.” She shrugged ever so slightly. “He can’t get used to it.”
    “Yeah, but a big part of it is that he’s one aggressive son-of-a-bitch,” Julian said with a quiet chuckle. “No offense intended to Her Majesty.”
    “There’s that,” Kosutic agreed, tugging at an earlobe. “I don’t really want to switch him out for somebody else, either. He’s got the moves to be better than just about anybody else in the company, if we can ever get them harnessed and coordinated, and only Macek might be able to equal him as it is. But I’m not going to get whacked because he’s not covering his sector.”
    And that was exactly what had happened, three times so far.
    When the helmet systems came on and their connection to the team’s toots kicked in, the hold became a virtual shoot-house, and Kosutic had set the difficulty level very high. That meant that enemies weren’t just in plain sight, on the route that the team took. Which, in turn, meant there had to be eyes turned in every direction . . . and Roger insisted on facing forward, along the line of assault. Not only did that permit the “enemies” he would otherwise have neutralized a clear shot at the team, but in one case he’d managed to “shoot” the sergeant major in the back.
    Something had to be done, and Despreaux furrowed her brow as all three of them considered the problem.
    “We could . . .” she said, then stopped.
    “What?” the sergeant major asked.
    “You won’t like it,” Despreaux replied.
    “I’ve done a lot of stuff I don’t like,” Kosutic sighed. “What’s one more thing, by His Evilness?”
    “All right,” Despreaux said with a shrug. “We could put Roger on point.”
    “Uh,” Kosutic said.
    “Hmmm.” Julian rubbed his jaw. “She’s got a point. I think he might do pretty well.”
    “But . . .” the sergeant major said. “But—”
    “‘But that’s my spot!’” Julian finished for her with a faint, humorous whine.
    Kosutic looked daggers at him for a moment, then shook her head sharply.
    “It’s more than that, Adib. Do you really think the captain isn’t going to use us? He put us together for more than just to show how it’s done. My guess is that he’s thinking of using us for something, as a team.”
    “What? His company’s sergeant major, two of his squad leaders, and the prince ?”