“Yes, but you’re applying common sense,” Bainbridge said. “And common sense is, alas, very uncommon.”
He gave me a long considering look. “One of the things they weren't allowed to tell you was how the levers of government actually work,” he added, after a moment. “Or, perhaps, how politics overshadow everything outside the Marine Corps and the Imperial Marshals. It isn't an exaggeration, Stalker, to say that you’re much more qualified for the Earth Guards than anyone who comes out of their academy. Your training was actually focused on fighting and winning wars.”
“I don’t understand, sir,” I admitted. “What does that have to do with my schooling?”
“The Earth Guards gets a crop of well-connected officers who have the collective military experience of a pea - or a grape,” Bainbridge said. I wasn't sure that actually answered my question. “They need other officers who actually have some better training, because they’re not allowed to train their officers properly. Yes, they can commission you as a lieutenant right from the start. They might even be able to give you a higher rank if you prodded. I imagine that Colonel Weise is desperate to ensure he doesn't have to do anything that resembles work.”
He shrugged. “Take the offer, if you like,” he added. “You’ll probably find yourself serving as a captain, perhaps even a major, whatever rank you formally hold. There may well be some excitement. Or you may discover that you’re doing nothing more exciting than marching around on the parade ground, watching helplessly as well-connected officers steal all the credit.”
“Just like school,” I said. “Why don’t they teach us these things?”
“Because they’re not allowed to teach the truth,” Bainbridge said. He shrugged at my expression. “Knowledge is power, Stalker, and those in charge do their level best to keep power away from everyone else. How can you resist if you cannot even understand what is being done to you?”
I thought I understood, then. A punch in the face was blindingly obvious; you might hit the puncher back, or drop to your knees begging for mercy, but you’d know what had happened to you. You could think of ways to avoid it. But a more subtle attack, worked out over generations, might be impossible to comprehend. A primitive tribe, with no knowledge of radiation, might be wiped out without ever understanding a neutron bomb, let alone why one might be deployed against them. They would have no hope of fighting back.
And if someone comes up with an excuse that makes it impossible for you to learn, I thought, you won’t ever be able to stand up for yourself.
“Shit,” I said.
“It’s your choice, Stalker,” Bainbridge said. “You might find that it’s a worthwhile post, if you’re lucky. Or you make your own luck.”
“I’m down for the Slaughterhouse, sir,” I mused.
“Yes, you are,” Bainbridge said. He made a show of checking his watch. “You have a week before the next ship leaves for hell. If you want to go, make sure you’re here to catch it. Until then ... you have a travel warrant, if you want to use it. Go play tourist and see something of the Solar System.”
He turned and marched out of the room, leaving me alone. I knew he wouldn’t tell me what to do. The corps only wanted people who wanted to be there. If I decided to cash in my chips and join the Earth Guards instead, no one would object. Hell, they’d probably be pleased to have a marine-friendly officer in a position of influence. I could get a lot done while my nominal superiors partied ...
But it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted the camaraderie I’d shared with Joker and the rest of the squad. I wanted ... I wanted a family.
I felt a stab of envy so strong it shocked me. Joker had a family, people who loved him; Viper, wherever he was now, had a family, even if his father was an asshole. But me? My family was dead. Self-pity was unlike me - there was no time for it in the Undercity - and yet I just wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Angrily, I shoved the thought to the back of my mind and locked it away, mentally throwing the key out of the window. The universe wasn't fair and if I wanted to change it, I’d have to keep that in mind.
And ...
The thought struck me as I started to walk back to barracks. I could go anywhere within the Solar System, anywhere at all. It wouldn't be hard to see the sights of Mars, or Jupiter, or the giant forests of Venus ... but I wanted to go back to Earth. I wanted to see my birthplace through new eyes.
I sat down at the terminal as soon as I reached the barracks, then did two things. First, I accepted the offer of a place at the Slaughterhouse. I’d go there and become a marine or die trying. And second, I booked a ticket to Earth. How much did it say about my education, I wondered, that I would have had problems booking a ticket before I’d gone to Boot Camp? I barely knew anything about the datanet.
And then, reluctantly, I started to pack. There wasn't much; the bedding and everything else belonged to the camp. My towels would be washed, then passed to the next set of recruits. I would have to leave my pistol and rifle behind, but everything else ...
I wasn't looking forward to the trip, not really. But it was something I felt I had to do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
There were, of course, other problems in the military training academies. The toxic combination of political correctness and bureaucracy had practically eliminated anything more than very basic training; by the time a cadet graduated, he or she might only have fired a dozen rounds in training. (By contrast, a marine recruit could expect to fire off thousands of rounds during the first month of Boot Camp.) Grades were assigned on the basis of rank and family connections, not actual ability. The handful of graduates who proved to be genuine military geniuses were heavily outnumbered by the uniformed fops.
-Professor Leo Caesius
Earth stank.
It wasn't something I’d noticed, back when I’d been a child. People can get used to anything, if they don't know any better. Now, though, I’d lived on Mars, in Boot Camp. There, the air had been clean; here, it smelled of burning hydrocarbons and too many humans in close proximity.
I hadn’t been able to take a marine shuttle, this time. Instead, I’d boarded an in-system ship at Wells, which had transported me to one of Earth’s giant orbital towers. It - and the halo of asteroid stations and industrial nodes surrounding Earth - had been impressive, but the interior was a vast disappointment. It was dirty - grime lay everywhere - and the people ... dear god, the people! They were awful!
The long line of people waiting to pass through customs gave me ample opportunity to observe Earthers from an outside perspective. There were men so overweight that their clothing kept threatening to burst open, escorted by women so thin that they looked suspiciously like beanpoles. One of them had a son who had been surgically modified to look like an elf; beside him, his older sister had breasts so large they couldn’t possibly be real. Once, perhaps, I would have stared at her openly; now, all I could do was look away in disgust. But all I saw were more and more examples of the absolute grossest of humanity; men who’d deliberately enhanced their muscles, women who’d enhanced their bottoms until I thought they’d need to sit on cushions and children who had been shaped - and reshaped - to meet current fashion. It was utterly revolting.
You were born here, my thoughts reminded me.
Shut up, I thought back.
The inspector eyed my travel warrant carefully, clearly angling for a bribe. I glared at him when he started making the traditional sign, my eyes promising bloody violence if he even thought about delaying my trip. He looked down, stamped my warrant and then waved me through, without even bothering with a close inspection. I rolled my eyes - I could have smuggled several of the more interesting weapons through without problems - and headed to the elevator. Maybe if I got drunk fast enough ...
I pushed that thought aside, then found a quiet seat and waited for the elevator to start its descent to Earth. I’d never have dreamed of reading in public before - only nerds did that - but now I dug one of my books out of my bag and started to read. I
f someone had tried something stupid, I could have given them a nasty shock. A girl who would have been pretty, if she hadn't dipped her face in make-up, sat down next to me and tried to make small talk, claiming to be on her first trip to Earth. I had no trouble in recognising a pickpocket when I saw one and glared at her, keeping one hand on my wallet, until she got the hint and sauntered off to sit next to a teenage boy who was remarkably fat. He beamed at such a pretty girl paying attention to him. I just hoped he wasn't carrying too much money.
It only got worse as we reached the bottom of the shaft and walked through the concourse and into the giant CityBlock. There were hundreds of thousands of people all around me, pressing in so tightly that I almost had a panic attack. Small children - some of them with their parents, some learning how to beg or steal from travellers - were running everywhere, getting underfoot. I picked out their masters effortlessly, wishing I could do something about them. It wasn't right that children should have to steal to live - and be exiled to various colony worlds, if they were lucky when they were caught. But I knew there was no point in trying to do anything. I could kill every one of the masters within sight and a hundred more would take their place within days.
“Hey, soldier,” a girl called. “Looking for a room to spend the night?”
A year ago, I knew I would have accepted. She was pretty enough, with long dark hair that drew attention to her breasts and probably a year or two older than me. It wouldn't be long before she looked old enough to be my mother, begging on the streets after she lost her looks and her pimp dumped her. A combination of drugs and abuse - both physical and mental - would drain her of life well before she actually died. Her pimp wouldn't give a damn. The hell of it was working up here, servicing a dozen men a day, was still better than life in the Undercity.
“No, thank you,” I said.
The girl shrugged - she was probably rejected all the time - and turned her attention to the next potential customer, who looked a little more interested. I hoped he was smart enough to use protection - prostitutes tended to pick up all sorts of unpleasant surprises for the unwary - and then shrugged, dismissing the problem. He could probably take care of himself.
Unless she’s really luring rich customers into a trap, so they can be mugged, I thought, sourly. I’d seen that game in the Undercity, although it was relatively rare. No one had anything worth stealing. Besides, the cops would take some kind of action if visitors to Earth were mugged the moment they stepped off the elevator. Or would they, on Earth?
I pushed that thought aside too, then found an airbus heading to my CityBlock. It struck me I could spend my time seeing the sights, such as they were, instead, but the urge to visit my home was overwhelming. Earth’s atmosphere looked far more dangerous than Mars, I decided, as I peered through the porthole. Mars might have regular storms that grounded aircraft and even threatened shuttlecraft, but at least it didn't rain acid and pollution on a daily basis. For all the ranting and raving about preventing pollution and cleaning up the Earth, the situation was getting worse and worse by the day.
No one even looked at me as I disembarked from the airbus, then walked towards the shafts leading down to the Undercity. It looked worse, far worse, than the scenes that had greeted me when I left the elevator. We'd known that the upper-blockers were wealthy, but I understood now that they weren't much richer than any of us. They’d only been luckier, perhaps, to live in a place where the gangs weren’t so strong. They had a slightly more peaceful existence.
At the cost of being raped by the government, my thoughts mocked me. The government dictated the lives of every last person in the upper block. They couldn't buy extra toilet paper without some bureaucrat asking questions. That’s the biggest gang of all.
I frowned as I saw the gang signs painted in the shaft, marking their territory, then shrugged to myself. It shouldn't really be surprising that they were unfamiliar. Gangs formed, then fell apart with terrifying speed. Every gang I’d feared and hated as a child was probably long gone by now. I kept walking, entering a long corridor that led towards my old apartment and school. The kids were just coming out of the security gates; the nerds running, as fast as they could, in hopes of escaping the bullies, while the stronger ones sauntered along, some clinging to the girls they protected in exchange for sex. I’d known girls who were grandmothers by the time they turned thirty. No wonder, if a strong man was their only hope of protection ... but it never actually lasted.
When society breaks down, I recalled from one of the lectures, women always get the worst of it.
I didn't want to look at them. Most of them looked beaten, broken, downtrodden ... it was horrifying to think that I had been one of them, once. The junior school wasn't much better; the kids were younger, not even entering their teens, yet there was a hardness in their eyes that I had once accepted as normal. Even the ones lucky enough to have a stable family who didn't beat or abuse them had that bitter look, the awareness that their lives were already over before they were born. They’d grow up at the mercy of the gangs ...
They could leave, I thought ...
... But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. I’d been lucky; I’d found the marines and then planned to join them even before my family died. Everyone else ... they’d get killed, or broken, or addicted to drugs, or join the gangs and prey on their fellows. The wolves would eat the sheep, while there wasn't a single sheepdog amongst them. What sheepdog would risk his life for such awful sheep?
I couldn't bear it any longer. Gritting my teeth, I turned and walked towards my former apartment. It had been months, but I knew the way like the back of my hand. I’d half-expected to see the door still open, the bodies still on the floor, even though I knew it was silly. I shouldn’t have been surprised to realise that a new family had been moved into the apartment, presumably after the bodies had been removed. They should have been taken to the recyclers, but I knew they might have been dumped down a shaft or simply eaten by whoever had found them. Cannibalism was far from healthy, quite apart from any moral objections one might have, but the Undercity rarely saw fresh meat. My family might have ended their days in someone’s stomach. I hoped, bitterly, that they’d given the cannibals indigestion.
There was a sound, just down the corridor. I blinked tears away from my eyes as I saw a door open and a young girl peeking out. She took one look at me, then jumped back and slammed the door closed. I didn't blame her. The Undercity might be infested with rats, cockroaches and other small creatures, but the most dangerous animal of all walked on two legs. No one with the power to do anything about it gave a damn.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Edward,” I said, as I turned and started to walk back towards the shaft. “What did you expect to find down here?”
I’d definitely been an idiot. There wasn't anything for me here, but validation. I’d made the right choice when I’d fled, no matter what Trevor had said. If I’d stayed, I would have compromised and compromised again until I was a monster - or worse. I wished, bitterly, that I’d been able to take my sisters with me, instead of having to watch them die, but leaving had been the right choice. There was no future in the Undercity.
Bainbridge would have kicked my ass. I was so lost in my own thoughts as I walked back past the schools that I didn't realise I was being tracked until five men - boys, really - moved out of the shadows to block my way to the shaft. They looked intimidating enough, to someone who knew no better, but I didn't feel particularly impressed. Three of them were clearly on a cheap battle drug - we’d been warned not to use them - while the other two were carrying makeshift weapons and trying to look tough. I felt a sudden surge of hatred as I pulled myself up into a combat stance, then deliberately overdid it. They’d think I was faking everything ...
“Give us your wallet and everything else you’re carrying and you can go,” the leader said, in a thick accent I hadn't heard for six months. I knew, of course, that they wouldn't let me go so easily. They had a reputation to keep. “Now.�
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“Come and take it,” I said. They were armed, but I was dangerous. I was more worried about the handful of children staring at the impending fight, as if it was a form of entertainment. Watching a beating was always amusing in the Undercity, at least as long as you weren't on the receiving end. “If you think you can ...”
I stuck out my tongue, deliberately. One of the druggies snarled and lunged forward, the drug overriding his common sense. His companions followed a moment later. They do enhance aggression, true, but they also tend to dampen any possibility of calculated violence. No one in their right mind gives out battle drugs unless they don’t give a damn about either their troops or the local population. The last time anyone ever tried deploying a drugged-up regiment, the enemy were brutally slaughtered before the troops turned on the locals and committed enough atrocities to make even the Civil Guard blanch.
“Idiot,” I said, coolly. Viper had been a better fighter than any of the drug-addled morons. “I can take you like this.”
I slammed my fist into the leader’s throat. He stumbled to a halt, his companions crashing into him and shoving his body aside ruthlessly. I caught the next one as he threw a meaty fist at me, stepping aside and kneeing him in the balls. He doubled over; I kicked him in the head, hard enough to crack his skull, then turned to the third. The drug had overridden his rationality so badly that he seemed to have forgotten his target, his gaze flickering from face to face as if he was trying to decide who best to attack. It was quite possible he’d go after the children ...
First To Fight (The Empire's Corps Book 11) Page 21