“You would like,” said Little Scar. “I would not like. But I may enable this in any case.”
O-kay. That didn’t exactly make sense. When Little Scar made no sign that he was going to elaborate, Arun asked: “Sir, is there something I must do first?”
“Yes. The insect scribe in your tunnel encounter showed sexual interest in you…”
“Not really, sir,” Arun blurted out. When the officer didn’t react to his interruption, he added: “Sir. The creature was academically interested in my unfortunate physiological reaction to the combat drugs. That’s all, sir.”
Little Scar showed his teeth again. He was not happy.
“Sir. Sorry, sir,” Arun added quickly.
The Jotun allowed Arun’s discomfort to continue for a few more seconds before slowly lowering his lips over his fangs. “Only speak when spoken to, human.”
Was Arun supposed to acknowledge that? He decided to keep silent.
Little Scar sniffed at Arun, but then relaxed somewhat. “McEwan, you might dismiss your accomplishment, but such a display of sexual interest is unprecedented. These Trogs, as you call the hive creatures, run several mining operations here on Tranquility and on moons around the outer planets. They also service the cryogenic facilities, dig the network of defensive warrens, and form the bulk of the planetary defense force. The hive creatures are vital, yet we know very little about them. We need to aid each other to strengthen our defenses and add new contingency plans.”
The first question that instantly struck Arun was why had they felt the need to strengthen their defenses. To ask, though, would be madness. He reckoned he had pushed his freakish familiarity with the colonel as far as it would go.
But Arun wasn’t renowned for common sense.
“Sir. Permission to speak, sir?”
“There. Politeness was not so difficult, was it?”
A buried memory surfaced. The Jotun colonel sounded like his mom. He shook the thought away. “No, sir. Why are we needing to–?”
Little Scar hissed a warning. Arun had never heard that sound before. It sounded like human flatulence, but it came through the Jotun’s teeth.
“I did not offer permission to speak, human. I merely commended politeness. Yes. We need to work more with the hive people. You have this connection with them. Therefore I want you to be our liaison.”
Arun blinked repeatedly so that his emotions wouldn’t show. His heart fluttered at the memory of the scribe’s red flanks puckering…
“You may speak now,” said Little Scar.
“Liaison. What does that mean, sir? What must I do?”
“Liaison means you will represent the interests of all humans and Jotuns in our dealings with the insect hives on the planet of Tranquility. Learn from them. Learn about them.”
“Sir. But what are you expecting me to do?” Surely he didn’t mean…
Little Scar hissed through his teeth – more a cross between heavy breathing and sighing than the flatulent growl of real anger. Arun interpreted this as irritation.
“Are you a child?” asked the Jotun.
“Sir. I’m 17,” Arun replied. “No, sir, I’m not.”
“Then you decide what liaison entails. I care nothing for means, only ends. Your first encounter is set for tomorrow.” He paused. “Your honor is tarnished, Cadet McEwan. Combat drugs had taken control of your body. I understand. That is why I permit you to live. But the stink of failure hangs around you, makes me want to retch. How sweet it would be if you could take the cause of your dishonor, and transform it into a sweet-smelling triumph that will be celebrated for centuries.”
“Sir. I understand, sir.”
“Good. Understand this too. If you fail then I shall execute you personally. Dismissed.”
— Urgent Info Message —
MESSAGE SUBJECT: Table of Organization & Equipment. Blue Squad, ‘C’ Company, 8th battalion, 412th Tactical Marine Regiment.
Additional instructions from Squad Leader, Sgt. Gupta:
Attention, Blue Squad.
Memorize the contents of this TOE. It sets out our initial structure, effective immediately. This includes semi-permanent NCO ranks.
‘Semi’ means that if you screw up, or if you don’t look at me in a way I care for, you get demoted.
‘Permanent’ means you lower-ranked cadets had better get used to addressing your seniors by their new rank.
To cadets newly assigned non-commissioned ranks: do not let your heads bloat! If any cadet NCO affords even the most junior full Marine with any less respect than that due a god, don’t expect sympathy from me when I have to scrape up your pulped remains off the deck. Since graduating from novice school, you have risen in status within the Corps family. To a Marine, that now raises you to about the same level as pond scum.
We have yet to meet. Even the most dimwitted among you will therefore realize that I have set out this TOE mostly on the advice of your instructors. Those of you who impress me sufficiently to still hold NCO positions in six months’ time will be sent to NCO training camp. There you will begin to understand that NCOs earn their privileges a hundred times over.
I understand that not all of you want to be a leader.
Tough shit.
Notwithstanding the ranks I am assigning today, you will all take turns to train in every role, including specialist, leadership, and those technical roles where your incompetence isn’t likely to blow us all to hell. You are all of you only a few casualties away from being squad leader.
Sgt. S. GUPTA, 412th Marines.
Table of Organization & Equipment
==Blue Squad== [Sergeant Gupta]
Current strength: 1 Marine, 28 cadets
Command Section [Sgt. Gupta]
Sergeant Suresh Gupta
Cadet LSgt. - Edward Brandt [responsibility: ammo logistics]
Cadet LCpl. Puja Narciso [chief medic & casualty evac]
Cadet Christanne Cusato
Cadet Stok Laskosk [specialist: missile launcher]
Cadet Vilok Altstein [specialist: Fermi cannon]
Alpha Section [Cdt. Cpl. Hecht]
~~Fire Team Blue1~~
Cadet Cpl. Menes Hecht
Cadet Laban Caccamo
Cadet Giorgio Yakubov
Cadet Marcus Ballantyne
~~Fire Team Blue2~~
Cadet LCpl. Rozalia Naron
Cadet Kamaria Cimini
Cadet Rahul Bojin
Cadet Fadl Vallario
Beta Section [Cdt. Cpl. Khurana]
~~Fire Team Blue3~~
Cadet Cpl. Uma Khurana
Cadet Cheikh Okoro
Cadet Martin Sandhu
Cadet Johannes Binning
~~Fire Team Blue4~~
Cadet LCpl. Mbizi Sesay
Cadet Norah Lewark
Cadet Bernard Exelmans
Cadet Adeline Feria
Delta Section [Cdt. Cpl. Majanita]
~~Fire Team Blue5~~
Cadet Cpl. Estella Majanita
Cadet Osman Koraltan
Cadet Phaedra Tremayne
Cadet Arun McEwan
~~Fire Team Blue6~~
Cadet LCpl. Del-Marie Sandure
Cadet Cristina Blanco
Cadet Serge Rhenolotte
==1 Replacement Requested==
MESSAGE ENDS
—— Chapter 13 ——
Arun’s leg still felt fragile, as if it were knitted together with spent carbine sabots. But as they jogged past the passageway that led from the hab-disk to Helix 62, that meant he’d now managed a full circuit of Ring 3 without his leg giving way.
“Let’s pick up the pace, boys,” he said, grinning. He felt indestructible.
“Take it easy, McEwan,” said Del-Marie.
“I’m fine,” Arun replied.
“Arun wouldn’t have suggested it, if he didn’t mean it,” said Osman, who pulled away.
“I know,” said Del-Marie as he accelerated to catch up. “But you’re forgetting somethi
ng crucial about McEwan.”
“Go on,” said Osman. “Tell me.”
“The stupid skangat is afflicted with chronic idiocy.”
“C’mon, fellas,” protested Arun. “Quit joking around.”
“I wasn’t joking,” said Del-Marie. “And I’m not your ‘fella’. You saw the message from the sergeant. As of this morning, I’m a lance corporal. Lance Corporal Sandure. Still sounds kinda mutated, but you two had better get it right.”
“Sorry, lance corporal,” they chorused.
Arun refused to let Del get him down. His leg was healing – good enough to put in a few miles before breakfast. He’d even survived the fallout of Little Scar’s displeasure. Nothing was going to spoil his good mood, so he changed the subject. “This rendezvous with the Trog I have to make at 14:00, you’ll never guess what he’s gone and done.”
“He?” queried Osman.
“Yeah. ‘He’. Referring to the insect as ‘it’ all the time is way too tedious. Anyway, he’s suddenly changed the rendezvous point. We’re to meet up in orbit.”
“Why?” asked Osman.
“Search me. I tropied a lot of his friends. He might want to tip me out the airlock without a suit.”
“You think too much, Arun,” said Osman.
“Wouldn’t you in my situation, pal? Allow me my thoughts because I might be dead this time tomorrow. I don’t suppose Del would be too bothered if I didn’t survive. Would you, lance corporal?”
“Stop your whining, McEwan. I don’t like you. You’re too soft, too distracted by childish emotions. Since the rest of us became cadets we’ve moved on and left you behind. I’m beginning to think someone else deserved your berth more.”
“Finished yet?” Arun quipped.
“No. I also think you’re an idiot, but I’ve got your back all the same because you’re part of Blue Squad. So, no, I don’t want you to be killed tomorrow.”
Arun turned to Osman. “You see, Lance Corporal Sandure does love me! Bernard will get jealous if he carries on like that.”
Osman frowned. “Look, I’m your friend, Arun. But Del’s right. You’re drifting away. Toughen up, man. Get serious.”
Arun glared at his friend. Get serious? This from the same Osman Koraltan who two years ago converted his training rifle into a water gun and soaked the neighboring dorms in a water fight that spread throughout the company before the instructors shut it down.
“Oh, look at you!” Osman shook his head sadly. “It’s all tantrums and emotions with you. You’re supposed to be a Marine, for frakk’s sake. You’re meant to take your orders and then act. Marines don’t sit down and debate an order, exploring how it affects their feelings. Sometimes I think the others are right about you.”
“Right about what?”
“Frakk!” exclaimed Del. “You and your fat mouth, Osman.” To Arun he said: “We’re your squad mates. If you stay loyal to us, we’ll cover your back, come what may. The rest of the battalion doesn’t feel so generous.”
Coldness suffused Arun. Del didn’t have to spell it out. “I appreciate you two keeping down to my pace,” he said, “but I’m slowing you down. Why don’t you speed up and I’ll meet up with you at inspection?”
A curt nod from Del-Marie and Arun’s two jogging partners shot off like a starship engaging zero-point drive.
As he watched his comrades disappear around the curvature of Ring 3, Arun’s good mood returned. Even at his slow speed, the rhythmic pumping motion of his run energized his body and cleansed his spirit.
Osman was right. Much of Arun’s life felt abnormal. In unguarded moments, the others would agree that life as a cadet was cruel, even pointless. But none of that bothered the others – well, possibly Springer sometimes. Arun had always worried constantly, but he’d been able to keep that well hidden. Until these last few weeks. Now he couldn’t even decide whether the Human Marine Corps was a proud family he was privileged to belong to, or a tyranny that should be smashed in the name of freedom.
But jogging… He loved jogging because it felt so natural. The books from ancient Earth said the human body had evolved adaptations specifically for long-distance running. He believed them.
The sound of pounding feet advanced on him from behind. He pulled over to let the faster runners overtake. To reduce congestion, joggers always pounded the rings in an anti-clockwise direction. He was surprised none had overtaken him earlier.
Two runners drew level with Arun, keeping pace with him. He glanced across and saw two cadets, heavy set, good looking, with cold eyes that hid a hot temper. They could almost be twins. Arun knew them: Chao and Burgamy, senior cadets from Checker Squad.
Whatever they had planned couldn’t be good. He weighed his chances of sweeping their legs away and burying his fist in their faces before they realized he wasn’t ready to be a victim. But with his bad leg, that was never going to work, and fighting was theoretically forbidden, although incidents were usually reclassified as over-exuberance. So instead he nodded a respectful acknowledgment and maintained his speed.
Chao gave a gesture of command to more runners arriving from behind who raced to take up positions in front. They were all from Checker Squad. Horden’s Children! It looked as if the entire squad were here.
Some of the Checker cadets pushed between Arun and the wall, boxing him in entirely. Then they slowed, forcing Arun to slow with them until they halted altogether.
If they were trying to intimidate him, they were doing a grand job. Arun’s muscles prickled with the need for action but all he could do was clench his fist and bite his lip.
Cameras would be recording everything, every word spoken, every action taken were constantly assessed by security AIs. It was vital that Arun didn’t throw the first punch. He couldn’t risk being blamed for starting a brawl.
Arun lowered his gaze, took a deep breath, and asked Chao: “Is there anything I can help you with, lance sergeant?”
The intensity of Chao’s scrutiny heated the side of Arun’s face, but Arun refused direct eye contact.
“I’m proud that my Checkers get first crack at you, McEwan. And in case you think we’re some kind of rogue squad, let me assure you of one thing.” Chao leaned in close enough for Arun to feel his breath warm his ear. “Every squad in every company throughout the 8th battalion… we’re all lined up waiting for a piece of your ass. What do you think of that, loser?”
“Injuring other cadets is a serious offense, lance sergeant. You can be as much of a bullying veck as you like, but if you beat me up, you’ll be executed. That’s the one advantage of being a thing, owned by aliens. If you damage me, you damage someone else’s property. That someone else is a White Knight. Are you big enough to take on the White Knights, Lance Sergeant Chao?”
“Ohh!” Chao sprang back in mock horror. “I’m a bully. Gosh, the shame.” He laughed, the rest of the squad joining in on cue. “I’ll spell it out for you, alien-faggot. It’s not me. It’s every last member of Checker Squad wanting to have a quiet word with you about why we’re suddenly in the Cull Zone. Look around. Don’t see everyone here? That’s because the rest of the squad are up the corridor running interference so our little chat isn’t interrupted. We’re all equally involved. Who will the senior NCOs value most? An entire squad or one insect-loving loser? And if not Checker Squad then the next squad, and the next one. They’ll have to choose who they want most – you or the rest of the battalion. They’re odds I’m willing to stake my life on.”
The world seemed to fall away from Arun. Chao was right. Actually, no… Not quite. “You forgot one thing, Chao. You aren’t all equally to blame. You’ve acknowledged yourself to be the ringleader.”
“Oh, yes.” Chao gave a predatory grin. “Thanks for reminding me.” The lance sergeant cried out in agony, clutching his ankle, scattering his squadmates in all directions – but not enough to leave an opening for Arun to escape.
Chao rolled around on the ground, pretending without much conviction to be in extreme pa
in. He sat up, still clutching his ankle. “I seem to have suffered a severe ligament strain. I will have to sit here for a short while to recover. Follow whatever course of action you see fit, Checker Squad. In my incapacitated state, I am unable to guide you.”
A sinking feeling came over Arun as he waited for his beating to unfold with grim inevitability. He prepared to curl into a ball and bring up his arms to protect his skull.
It did no good. He felt two cadets behind him grab his arms. His legs were kicked away and Lance Corporal Burgamy lined himself up for the first kick.
“Vulley you, Chao.” Arun spat in the direction of Checker Squad’s leader.
“Really?” said Chao, still sitting on the floor. “Funny. I thought you only wanted to vulley aliens.”
Then Burgamy landed the first kick and the breath was knocked from Arun’s body.
He felt a burning need to curl over and reflate his lungs, but with his arms restrained he had to take the pain without the slightest respite.
Burgamy and the two cadets holding Arun’s arms waited until the first wave of pain had subsided before running off down the passageway, resuming their jog as if nothing had happened.
Cowards!
Red hot anger exploded through Arun. He wanted to punch, kick, and bite. But being on his knees meant he couldn’t throw his weight.
His arms were grabbed again and pinned against his back sharply enough to draw a yelp from Arun. As a tall girl, Schimschak, readied to throw a punch, Arun saw a line queue up behind her and sensed more cadets behind him, waiting to take their turn to restrain him.
Schimschak’s punch smashed into his face. Arun twisted at the last moment. It was only a glancing blow to his left eye, but still enough to make him see blinding flashes until he shook them away – just in time to see Hardy land a roundhouse kick into his flank.
After that, the blows came in too fast for Arun to tell them apart. He was alone in a sea of pain that roiled with frustrated anger.
Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) Page 9