Galactic Arena Box Set

by Dan Davis

  “What about the others?” Ram asked. “My team.”

  Cassidy’s mouth twitched. “Same as you. Different reasons, of course. They have truly demonstrated their lack of worth and no Marine on this planet is going to want one of those people watching their backs. Tseng is quarantined and is going to lose his leg, probably. That’s on you. Cooper is so badly concussed that his brain damage may be permanent. That’s on you, too. Sergeant Stirling had some psychological problems in the last year or so but now, thanks to you, he stole a drone and, more importantly, two vital military vehicles and he will be court martialed. Flores never should have been here and she’s proved that now. Corporal Fury’s petty thieving has escalated into full blown larceny. I always hoped that Harris would learn to keep his unconventional behavior under control but, thanks to your influence, he has become openly insubordinate and there’s nothing more I can do. I know you thought you were doing something to help. Frankly, you were lucky that pilot was crazy enough to pick you up. If not for that, you would all be dead and we would be without our two ETATs.”

  Ram had to stand up for himself somehow. “Be that as it may, we saved one of the abductees. We got an enemy prisoner and we—”

  “You see how he says we, now?” Zuma said to Cassidy. “Hoping to spread the blame.” She glared at Ram. “If you hoped to impress us with your rescued physicist, I’m afraid you have returned him in a poor state.”

  “He’s raving fucking mad,” Cassidy said. “A broken man.”

  Zuma wafted a hand. “That remains to be seen. But he is extremely traumatized. I would never say this but some people might believe Dr. Arthur might have been better off left where he was.”

  Ram shifted in his tiny chair and began to argue.

  “Save it,” Cassidy said. “You will report to Medical in the morning and they will give you some things to take. These will help you to control your aggression and your paranoia. It is non-negotiable. Then you will be assigned to guard duty over the wheeler prisoners in the normal rotation. That will free up one proper Marine for perimeter duty for one watch per day, so you will continue to serve a purpose. But if you do anything to risk the people here, I will have you sedated and chained up, do you understand?”

  Ram nodded. “I understand that you unofficially ordered Tseng to assist us so that you could get rid of us. I just don’t understand why you would throw away resources like that. A significant portion of your forces. Surely, it can’t all be incompetence?”

  Behind the Captain, Sergeant Gruger stood straighter and flexed his shoulders.

  But Cassidy’s face fell into blankness. “Whatever lies Ensign Tseng told, you should disregard.”

  “Were you trying to provoke the wheelers into attacking the outpost again?” Ram asked. “Are you trying to win victory on the ground before the real soldiers show up on the Sentinel? If you are, that’s insane. You’ve seen the images of them chasing us as we escaped. There are at least dozens of wheelers out there, probably hundreds and maybe thousands.”

  “Get some rest,” Zuma said. “Then report to Medical, then you will be on guard duty. Unarmed. But you’re used to that.”

  “I’m confused,” Ram said. “Am I still a Marine Corp officer or not? Are you ordering me in that capacity or is this, like, a favor you’re asking?”

  “Just get out, smart ass,” Cassidy said. “While you still can.”

  Ram stood, hunching under the low ceiling but doing it suddenly enough to startle Sergeant Gruger and make Cassidy wary. Ram looked between the three of them, gave them his best grin, saluted and strolled out, squeezing through the door.

  Those dirty bastards.

  ***

  “I’m sorry, Sergeant,” Ram said to Stirling.

  The big man was out on the perimeter, shoveling a heap of pulverized stone into sand bags. The trenches and walls all around the outpost had come a long way in just the day or so since he’d last seen them. Civilians and Marines worked with the bulldozer, drones and old-fashioned picks and wheelbarrows. The remnants of the wrecked enemy tanks had finally been removed, chopped up and dragged away by the drones.

  “Not your fault, sir,” Stirling said, without stopping. His armor was covered in fine black dust.

  “You don’t have to keep calling me sir. I think they’ve run me out of the Marines. If I ever was one in the first place.”

  “Far as I’m concerned, sir,” Stirling said, “you confirmed you were a Marine when you carried Ensign Tseng out of that cave on your shoulder.”

  “Well, thank you, Sergeant. But I would have done that for anyone. I had a civilian on the other shoulder.”

  “Exactly, sir,” Stirling said. “Exactly.”

  “It makes no sense that Cassidy has you digging. You’re one of the most experienced veterans here and if the wheelers do come again, we’re going to need you fresh and ready. You should be in a weapons team. I mean, come on. You should be in the CIC, advising the Captain.”

  Stirling chuckled. “He doesn’t want me anywhere near him. Even with that bastard Gruger to cover his ass. No, my fighting days were numbered when I knocked him out.”

  Ram hesitated. “You what? When? What are you talking about?”

  “Yeah. I knocked him out.” Stirling stepped back while a drone delivered another bucket of crushed stone to his pile, then he started shoveling again. “He’ll never tell you, or anyone, I bet but that’s why he threw me out in the first place. Gruger put the word out that it was about disobeying an order and my removal from duty was due to mental health issues because I lost Maria. And yeah, I had been depressed for weeks and everyone knew it. Cassidy was chewing me out for not doing my duty, for not looking out for the people in my team, for Flores’ performance being shit. And Cassidy was mad because someone kept stealing his shit. Taking his personal effects from his quarters. It was Fury but he didn’t know. Anyway, so he was in my face, screaming at me, with his spit flying out of his mouth like he was a drill sergeant and I was a recruit or something. He’d really lost his mind. I don’t know what came over me but I just clocked him one, right under the ear. Caught him sweet and he was out like a light.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then nothing. I checked he was breathing, put him in the recovery position and went back to work. Then my next psych eval? I’m pulled from active duty and transferred to the Spaz Squad.”

  “Cassidy never pressed charges?”

  “Too embarrassed, I guess. The man’s sort of a legend in the Corps. He probably didn’t want his rep tarnished. I never said anything to anyone before. Think I’ll tell everyone when I finish my watch, though.”

  “Why was he so angry at you? For performance issues?”

  “It’s never about the thing it seems to be about, have you noticed that, sir? My relationship with Maria was against regs, sure. But Sergeant Major Gruger squealed to Cassidy. Any normal sergeant would let it go. We weren't bothering anyone. But Gruger never liked that I wasn't scared of him, wasn’t scared or cowed by Cassidy. When Gruger found out about us, he was so happy. For days, grinning when he saw me. I didn't know why at the time. But it was because he had found a way to hurt me. Something to finally use against me. And Gruger has always been pouring poison into Cassidy’s ear. I don’t know, neither of them could stand any hint of disloyalty.”

  "Why are there so many people like that on the mission? What was the selection criteria?"

  Sergeant Stirling laughed, bitterly. "Two reasons. One is the nature of our dominant political ideology. TechPrimitivism says that conflict within groups should be minimized through conflict, or competition with, out-groups and other groups. What happens when we're isolated out here? There's no other group to join and no one to compete with. A splinter group can't break off and start our own tribe or company. Second is the selection process. We are hundreds of people. We all held it together, were on our best behavior during selection. But no one is a paragon of virtue all day, every day and some unsavory people got through. We're on our
best behavior most of the time in life, right? They look back at our personal histories and they can't see what shit is in our hearts. Conflicts start small and build up. The interwoven relationships became labyrinthine. Did they know Zuma was a megalomaniac? I guess they did. And Zhukov was put here to keep her in check, which he did for a long time. But she's played the long game. She wants to be top dog. As does Cassidy. He's making a career move. Those people could be kings out here. Imagine being in command of an outpost all the way out here. Years from Earth. No one here to challenge your authority. How can this not attract megalomaniacs? How does it not bring the latent dictator out? In spite of a lifetime of service, a lifetime of following orders.”

  “Is that really what you think they’re up to?”

  Stirling shrugged. “I’m willing to bet that’s what you saw, too. Before they screwed with your memories. I wonder if the two things are related? Strange sentence for murder, sir, ain’t it?”

  What had Sifa said? You are being lied to? He’d thought she was hinting that he had been awake for ten months but was there more to it? Some plot he had uncovered?

  Did it even matter anymore?

  Ram looked around at the people and drones working hard on the defenses. Above, a few specks circled against the cloudy turquoise sky. Surveillance microdrones, keeping watch against incursion for kilometers all around. “Do you think the wheelers will attack again? Tseng was convinced they’re tactically naive. That the ones on the planet are just civilians or maybe amateurs. You know, like militia units. That make sense to you?”

  “Tseng is a twat but he’s no dummy. We know these guys are slow on the uptake but when they get rolling, they turn into a right shower of bastards. Know what I mean?”

  “I think I get the gist.” The plain stretched off to the close black hills and, beyond, to a jagged horizon. “When it all kicks off, we will have to look out for each other.”

  “We, sir?”

  “You, me, Harris, Cooper, Flores, Fury. If the others won’t watch out for us then we need to rely on each other.”

  “Sounds good to me. Tell you what, sir. I’ll find the others and then I’ll find you.”

  Ram nodded, looking up at the hills. “They took my weapons, Sergeant.”

  “Aye, sir. I reckon you should get them back.”

  ***

  “Come in here,” Dr. Rothbard called, poking his head of his lab door.

  “Me?” Ram said, even though there was no one else in the corridor where he was standing, hunched beneath the ceiling in his armor. “I’m on guard duty, Doctor.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Rothbard said. “The aliens you are guarding are within this very room.”

  “I know that but I’m not supposed to leave…” The doctor disappeared back into the lab with the door ajar. “Leave my post.”

  Why do I care? I’m not a real Marine. What’s Cassidy going to do to me?

  Ram ducked in through the open door. One half of the laboratory was sectioned off with floor to ceiling steel bars, 3cm thick, shining puddles of welding on the floor where the bars touched it. It looked like a sloppy, rushed job but then, of course it was. Still, he was sure the engineers and scientists knew what they were doing and that it was perfectly safe.

  Behind the bars, two wheelhunter prisoners.

  One large and the other smaller.

  The small one was the very same alien that Ram had brought out of the wheeler lava tube and held onto during the wild escape from the horde of mad wheelers and their vehicles.

  Dr. Rothbard and his team gathered in the other half of the room.

  “Rama, please.” Rothbard led Rama away from the humans and the aliens. “I need to talk to you about your sample.”

  “My what?”

  Rothbard cleared his throat. “When you returned from your recent excursion and delivered that—” he pointed at the small wheeler, “—you had a biological sample in your medical pouch.”

  “The blood I scraped from armor I found in the wheeler base. You tested it? Do you know who it was?”

  “It was disgustingly contaminated but yes, I’m afraid it is a match for Milena.”

  His legs wobbled and he leaned on the edge of a bench with one hand.

  I failed. She is dead.

  Ram took a shaky breath. “I knew it would be.”

  “That’s an illogical thing to say,” Rothbard said, appearing to be confused. “Purely pessimistic thinking. You had a one-in-five chance of being correct about who the suit belonged to, assuming you were telling the truth about your inability to judge its overall size or any distinguishing features due to the enormous volume of blood and other tissue contained within.”

  “Shut up, Doc.”

  Rothbard scowled up at him. “I’m sure you’re quite upset but we’ve all lost friends to these creatures. There’s no need to be rude.” The xenobiologist placed a hand on Ram’s arm. “May I ask you some questions about your guest, here?”

  They approached the prison, the other scientists making space for Ram. “You haven’t taken their suits off.”

  “Why would I? That might kill them. I don’t want anything to happen to these wonderful creatures.”

  “They’re killers,” Ram said. “You just said so yourself.”

  “Aren’t we killers, also?” Dr. Rothbard asked, waving a hand airily.

  “No. They attacked the outpost first. All we’ve done is defend ourselves.”

  The smaller wheeler crouched in the corner, legs and arms folded in to the central hub.

  “Is my one injured?”

  “We don’t know. We were hoping to ask you some questions about its behavior prior to being admitted into our custody.”

  “Alright.”

  Rothbard escorted Ram a few steps back to the other three people in the room, who were pretending they hadn’t been listening.

  “Ram, I don’t know if you know my colleagues Grahams, Soules and Marshall?” Ram vaguely recognized them all and nodded greetings. Rothbard continued. “As you know, our attempts at deciphering their language is progressing well. We believe we have hundreds of words of vocabulary already.”

  “Well,” Dr. Marshall said. She was a stocky woman with a jowly, old face. Her eyes were a beautiful bright blue. She looked like someone you should not mess with. “I disagree that we have hundreds. Dozens probably but we—”

  “Dozens?” Dr. Soules said. He seemed young and was very animated. “The AI has confirmed—”

  “The AI confirms or denies what we ask it to,” Dr. Grahams said. He had a hard look about him, like he was a thug who had thrown on a lab coat. “If our methodology is wrong then the AI will just be confirming our errors. We can’t rely on it to do our thinking for us, all it can do is process the—”

  “Oh, here he is,” Dr. Marshall said, turning on him, “explaining things to me like I’m an infant. You know what you can do with your criticisms? You can shove them up—”

  “Okay!” Rothbard shouted and clapped his hands together. “I am sorry, Rama Seti. This is not how we do things. But we have not slept much for many days and we are running out of time to get results. You two, please calm down. Are we professionals or not?” Rothbard shook his head. “Listen, we have been showing the alien objects and recording its electromagnetic emissions. And—”

  “Show him,” Dr. Soules said, grinning up at Ram. “Just show him.”

  They demonstrated the device they had constructed. A small, flat black box with a couple of apertures. They took it to the cage with the wheelers inside. The large one edged forward in response.

  It made Ram’s skin crawl to look at it. Everything in him said it was wrong. He wanted to kill it or run from it. Was that why they had not given him weapons? They could not trust him to control himself?

  The stocky Dr. Marshall held the box while the thuggish Dr. Grahams flicked open a telescopic pointing stick and pointed it at Dr. Soules.

  The box spoke, in a stock male voice. “Human.” Grahams po
inted the stick at a coffee mug. “Receptacle,” the box said.

  “You see,” Rothbard said. “We considered correcting that to say cup or drinking vessel but they have no mouth or anything like it so we want to avoid the connotations of consumption that go along with such words, do you see? Continue.”

  Grahams pointed to printed 3D objects that the others brought over. “Sphere. Pyramid. Cube.”

  “I can’t hear anything or see it doing anything,” Ram said. “How is it saying this stuff?”

  Rothbard nodded. “Specialized nodes on the skin, I believe, emitting radio waves.”

  “Radio?” Ram said. “Naturally?”

  “Try to keep up, young man,” Rothbard said. “The translator analyses then converts the radio emissions into English words. And vice versa.”

  “You’re talking back to it?” Ram said. “What are you telling it?”

  Rothbard waved his hand. “Nothing. We’re just using feedback to test our translations.”

  “Is it listening to us right now?” Ram asked, glancing at the huge wheeler, squatting and still. As if it was waiting. As if it was paying attention.

  Rothbard shrugged. “It’s always on, gathering data. We’re getting closer all the time, every hour. But we struggle with two-way conversation so we want to have as much data going back and forth as possible.”

  “But we have cracked numbers,” Soules said, grinning.

  They brought clusters of sticks and took groups and held them out while the wheelhunter correctly stated how many there were. The scientists seemed particularly pleased by that demonstration.

  “Very impressive,” Ram said to the expectant, upturned faces. “I’m still not sure why you need my help.”

  “Well,” Rothbard said, “we are trying to discuss more complex concepts with it but we’re not sure what commonalities we have with the creatures. We are attempting to understand their psychology. Their outlook. You see? Their social organization.”

  “And you think I have a special insight because I was inside their base?”