by Sara King
Libby glanced at the table. Her cheeks flushed. Then, to his amazement, she began to cry.
Joe reached out and touched her hand. “Libby? You okay?”
Libby jerked and her eyes found him, looking startled. To his surprise, she stood up suddenly. Without another word, she left.
“What’d I do?” Joe asked, glancing at Maggie and Scott.
Scott shrugged, but Maggie was staring after Libby. Sighing, Joe went back to eating. Maggie turned to him after a moment. “Do you like her, Joe?”
The question caught him mid-spoonful and a spray of baby-crap brown spewed across the table in front of him. “What? What kind of question is that? I like all of you. You’re my friends.” He felt himself blushing so hard his head felt like it would pop.
“You know,” Maggie said. “Like a girlfriend. A lover. You think she’s sexy, right? Don’t you know she wants to get you in bed?”
All around them, conversation had stopped, and Joe could feel the attention of a hundred nearby recruits, waiting for his answer. Joe’s mouth opened and closed, to no effect. He made a little strangled noise in the back of his throat. Finally, with a little whimper, he stood up and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“You just went,” Maggie pointed out.
“I think there’s something wrong with my food.”
“It’s the same exact stuff we’re eating.”
“I have to go.”
“Just answer the question, Joe. Why’s it so hard? You’re the oldest person here and you act like you’re just a shy little kid. If you want to bang her, just say so.”
“It’s none of your damn business!” At the sudden silence in the hall, Joe realized he had shouted the last loud enough to be heard back on Earth. Every gaze in the place was on him, and he heard several kids snicker. Feeling like he was about to throw up, Joe turned and left.
By the time he’d taken three steps, he was running. Behind him, he heard half the cafeteria break out in laughter. He hit the doors at full tilt, barreling into an Ooreiki Battlemaster on his way inside. He caught the startled Ooreiki by surprise and they went down together in a heap, to more laughter.
His cheeks flushing crimson, Joe thought he was going to die.
Then he saw the look on Battlemaster Nebil’s face.
“Zero, what the burning ashes was that? And why the burning hells are you jenfurglings laughing? You think this is burning funny? Get your furgling asses up. All of you! Burning giggling Takki ashpiles! Push-ups! Three hundred! Let’s go! You, too, Zero, you charhead. Everyone! One! Two! GET YOUR STOMACHS OFF THE GROUND! Three…”
More kids laughed, and by the time Nebil was finished with them, Joe was ready to die. He quickly escaped to Bagkhal’s tower to ‘lend further assistance,’ then just sat outside the Dhasha’s front door, trying to sort through the Takkiscrew that was his life.
A sound from within the Dhasha’s chambers startled him. “Zero,” Bagkhal grunted. “Thought I smelled you. What the hell are you doing sitting out here? I dismissed you for the day.”
Joe swallowed hard, the shame still leaving him sick. “Girls,” he managed.
Bagkhal made a clicking laugh. “Come inside. Let’s talk.”
CHAPTER 33: New Rules
“Rule One,” Battlemaster Nebil said, holding the electronic device Joe had given him. “You self-molesting furgs had better keep your burning dicks in your pants, cause if a girl so much as whispers a suggestion of rape, Bagkhal’ll cut them off. Got me?”
Several of the boys suddenly went pale.
“Rule Two,” the battlemaster continued. “Females, with one examination, medical can determine who you copulated with, how many times, and when…and whether or not you were distressed at the time. Bagkhal has ordered that any false accusers will be locked in a room for a day with their accused. Inside, normal Rules will no longer apply. Do you get me?”
This time, it was the girls who went white.
“Rule Three,” the battlemaster said, “One you’re already familiar with. There will be no killing. Congress values you as fighters, not as corpses. Any murderers will spend a day with Prince Bagkhal. Any repeat offenders will be executed.”
“What if we kill two at one time?” a boy asked stupidly.
The boy shrank back from the battlemaster’s slitted gaze. “Rule Four,” Battlemaster Nebil said pointedly. “No more infighting between battalions. That means you, Zero. Bagkhal’s sons will patrol the city every night. Anyone they catch outside the barracks after curfew will be considered a troublemaker and will be punished—since they don’t seem to enjoy their sleep, they can spend the next week running instead of sleeping.”
“That’s not possible,” someone snorted.
Battlemaster Nebil gave the boy a long, hard look.
The kid swallowed, hard.
“Rule Five,” Nebil continued. “No lying. Lying seems to be an unfortunate trait you Humans share with the Huouyt. For each offense, you will spend a day emptying chamber pots and scrubbing the baths.
“Six. No stealing. Another trait you and the Huouyt have in common. The next time one of you is caught taking something that doesn’t belong to you, you’ll be stripped naked and marched at the front of the battalion for a week.
“That’s all for now,” Nebil said. “Battlemasters, resume biosuit training.”
Fourth Platoon’s new battlemaster, Battlemaster Aneeir, stepped forward, looking much younger and more nervous than anyone else. Even his voice sounded jittery. “Fourth Platoon! Grab your biosuits and meet back here!”
While the other recruits had already unpacked their biosuits from the tight black bricks they had come in, Joe had to start from scratch. He fumbled with the odd alien clasp that released the lid of the lightweight chest, then struggled to pull the heavy black bundle from inside.
Instead of being a single piece, like a wetsuit, the biosuit came in two parts; one for the front of his body, one for the back. Joe just stared at it dumbly.
“You have to take your stuff off first,” Maggie said. “It won’t seal if you’re wearing anything.”
Joe sighed. He supposed being naked wasn’t a big deal anymore. Aliens, it seemed, did not put much stock in modesty. He stripped.
“Now put it on like this,” Maggie said. She spread one half of her suit out on the ground, laid down, and, starting at the feet, she touched the edges of the two halves of the suit together. They sealed immediately, molding to her body as tightly as some weird sort of living spandex. As soon as the feet sealed, the rest of the suit followed in a wave, like an invertebrate convulsing. Maggie didn’t even have to have her arms arranged perfectly for the suit to grab them and swallow them whole. The suit stretched over her skin like glossy black glue. Underneath, Joe could see the outlines of her body as clearly as if she were wearing nothing at all. Joe winced, trying to avoid recognizing how good she looked. Then he wondered what would happen to him if he did the same thing. The way the suit contracted hadn’t looked very gentle.
“So how do you get it off?” Joe asked, tapping Maggie on the shoulder. He yanked his hand back when his finger hit solid, rocklike rigidity. Tentatively, he touched it again, and found himself touching a piece of stone. Cold stone.
“You can still move?” Joe asked, marveling at the suit. “It’s like you turned into some sort of statue.”
Maggie giggled. “Isn’t it cool?” She turned around to show him her back. Along her back a long, wrist-thick bulge followed the indentation of her spine from the top of her buttocks all the way to the base of her skull. Two more ran on the outside of either leg and, when he looked closely, along the backs of her arms, as well.
“Now you try,” Maggie ordered.
Joe hesitated, giving the two halves of his suit a nervous look. “How do you get it off?”
“All you’ve got to do is want it to come off.” Maggie saw his look and laughed. “Don’t worry, Joe. It feels great. I bet you could sleep in this thing.”
“
We’re probably going to,” Joe muttered. Sighing, he followed her lead. The key to getting inside, he learned, was to make sure the seam at the toes was in the right place. As soon as Joe touched the seams together at his feet, the entire suit convulsed on him, catching him still half-seated. It did not crush his balls, as he half-expected, but it still delivered a brief jolt of panic, especially as it closed around his mouth and nose. Even as Joe was reaching up to claw at his face, the passageways opened and he sucked in a startled breath of air. He touched his face, stunned at the metallic tap when the suit came into contact with itself. Blinking felt odd—a layer of the suit actually melted to the surface of his eyelids.
Still, the comfort of the thing was amazing. It was heavy and made him have to exaggerate his motions, but as a whole, it actually felt a part of his body. It was also the perfect temperature…at least on the inside. On the outside, it felt like he was made of refrigerated steel. Glancing down at his hands, Joe was further amazed to see that, despite his fingers being covered with a thin layer of the black substance, he could still feel everything that his hands came into contact with. For that matter, his whole body continued to have sensation. He could feel the sharp gravel under his feet despite the fact that the suit was rock-hard on his soles.
The suit was, Joe realized, delivering normal sensations to the wearer without the normal consequences. Standing there, feeling yet not feeling the air around him, he felt awed and a little frightened of Congressional technology.
“This is the Human Biocasing I,” their new Battlemaster Aneeir told them once they were all fitted and standing back in formation like sleek black ants. “Obviously, since this is the first model, there will be improvements as Congressional engineers come to understand your body structure more completely. Until then, this is what you’ve got. You can eat, sleep, piss, and shit in this thing. Some of you furgs will probably even try to mate in it.”
Joe winced at the thought of that, but some of the other recruits gave Battlemaster Aneeir looks of fascination.
“Though the suit feels heavy to you, it is not. In fact, you will find that you are approximately eighty-one percent stronger. It feels clumsy because the suit is still adjusting to your body. Once you have spent three days in it, the suit’s biomechanisms will be fixed and, like your helmets, it will be so well adapted to your body that only you will be able to wear it.”
“Now,” Battlemaster Aneeir said, “As you can probably tell, these suits are very complex. What you don’t know is how complex they really are. For instance, to stop feeling the gravel beneath you, all you have to do is decide that you no longer wish to feel those stones and the suit will pick up your thoughts and desist. Try it right now.”
Joe did. As soon as he thought negatively of the sensations the suit was passing on to him, the feelings abruptly stopped.
“Cool!” Scott cried.
“As grounders, this suit is designed to save your lives in more ways than one. It takes over sixteen thousand pounds of pressure to crush the outer shell. The material itself is resistant to brief laser attacks, projectiles, some plasma, and even electricity. Of course, if a Dhasha attacks you, all bets are off.”
“So their claws can rip through this stuff?” Joe asked, surprised. The suit felt harder than anything he’d ever felt before.
“Like you were wearing nothing at all,” Battlemaster Aneeir replied. “Now, if an attack makes it through that does not cause instant death, the suit can save your life in several other ways. First off, it will seal itself over the wound. This does not necessarily help in a plasma attack, but it does with most other injuries. If something over sixteen thousand pounds lands on you and crushes a leg, then the suit will support you enough to walk, though it will probably hurt like hell. If you have taken a mortal wound, the suit will shut down and put you into a state of hibernation to give you time to reach a medical station. The suit protects against all types of chemical attack, but if something nasty somehow gets past your other gear, it will instantly put you out of commission until medical personnel can evaluate your situation.”
“That doesn’t sound smart,” Joe said. “Putting us out in the middle of a battle? What happens if we can still fight, even with a lungful of gas?”
Aneeir gave him a wry look. “Believe me, Human. You get a lungful of the stuff Congress’s enemies have in their arsenals and you will not be breathing, let alone fighting.”
“Oh.”
“Now,” Aneeir continued, “Caring for your suits: Congress supplies its ground soldiers with two types of meals. When you are not wearing your suits, it’s the green stuff you’re already acquainted with, also called RHCI, or Rudimentary, Human Class I. When you are using your suits, it will be called BNHCII, or Biocasing Nourishment, Human Class II, janja shit for short. Janja shit is a slightly yellowish color and it has a metallic taste to it. While on the battlefield, at least one meal a day should be of the Class II format. It will provide the sustenance your suit needs to survive.”
To survive? Joe glanced anxiously down at the thing covering his body. What the hell is it?
“Of course, this requires that you eliminate your wastes while still wearing the suit. It might feel uncomfortable, but believe me, you do not want to wind up buck-ass naked squatting out behind a rock when the enemy finds you.”
Joe grimaced at the image, knowing all-too-well how that could turn out.
Aneeir stopped and scanned his new platoon. “Any questions?” Once again, his sudah began fluttering nervously. Joe guessed this was probably his first time as Battlemaster, possibly promoted on the spot just for the occasion.
“So the ammo we use in the hunts won’t hurt us anymore?” Maggie asked.
Aneeir gave her an amused look. “No. These are just training suits. Real ones are immune to the poisons in the fake rounds. No more questions? Then everyone get to the barracks. You will need to wear your suits continuously for the next three days, including during sleep. Zero, you may begin your duties with Prince Bagkhal. Haagi.”
Joe looked down at himself and realized he looked like an onyx statue. A well-defined onyx statue. Rippling abs, outstanding pecs, biceps the size of grapefruits… At that revelation, he felt a tiny spark of satisfaction. If Congress had done one thing for him, it had certainly made him look good. Glancing up, he saw that several nearby girls had realized it, too. One of them was staring at his crotch with unabashed interest.
Blushing, Joe cleared his throat and covered himself. “Hi,” he mumbled, groping for his clothes with one hand. “Nice to meet you.”
They giggled and walked off.
You are a goddamn furg, you know that?
As he pulled on his pants, he noticed that Maggie was scowling after the trio with a look of Death. When she turned back, it was to give him an accusing glare.
“Don’t worry,” he said, grinning. “They only want my body.”
#
Joe was going to his first meeting with Bagkhal when he saw Libby sitting alone in the shadows behind the chow hall, staring into space.
“Lib?”
Libby jerked, getting to her feet in an instant. She wasn’t wearing any gear over her biosuit and Joe felt himself blush like a beet. Her long, lean body was outlined to feminine perfection, right down to her small, pert breasts and the subtle lines leading down to her groin.
He tore his eyes away from her.
“How’s that new tongue working out for you?” he asked, staring at his feet.
Sex Master Dobbs strikes again. Oh my God. Kill me now. “How’s your tongue working out for you?” Why not just ask her how her gun’s been firing lately? Or if her boots still fit. How did Dad do it? Mom must’ve taken pity on him. It’s the only way a guy in my family could ever—
“I could show you,” Libby said shyly.
Joe’s eyes jerked back to her face. Then, That’s not what she means you furg. You friggin’ wish. She’s just—
Libby’s biosuit peeled off and fell to the ground.
#
“This is really stupid, Joe.”
“Just shut up and watch, okay? That’s your sister down there, too.”
“Yeah, but… Joe, they’ve got guns. They killed your da—”
“Stop being a pussy, Eric. You weren’t pissing yourself back when we came up with the idea in your living room.”
“I was just fooling around, Joe.”
“I wasn’t. I’m getting him back. You don’t wanna help, I’ll tell Katie when I see her that you didn’t think she was worth it.”
“That’s not fair! They’ve got guns, Joe. Your stupid idea isn’t gonna work.”
“It will. Watch it.”
“Well I wanna be the one to light them, then. You can be the one to go down there and get killed.”
“Fine. Be sure you don’t light them all at once.”
“My dad was the pyrotechnic, Joe. Not yours.”
“Just do it. When I hit them with the truck, I want them looking up, not at me.”
“This is such a stupid idea. What makes you think they’ll care about fireworks?”
“You really think they’ve got fireworks on alien planets?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Let’s hope they don’t.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. Gotta talk to the guys with the trucks before the aliens get here.”
“Good luck, Joe.”
“Just be ready to run. As soon as they figure out what’s going on, they’re gonna come after you.”
“Get my sister back. That’s all I care about.”
“I will. Promise.”
“Joe?”
Joe opened his eyes. His skin was prickled in goosebumps where it was exposed to the air, but the ground beneath him was cushioned by his biosuit. Libby lay beside him, her elegant body partially covered in one half of her suit, her head nestled against his shoulder. Joe took a slow breath, praying he wasn’t dreaming.
“Joe?” Libby stroked his chest.
