Hard Corps

by Paul Mannering

  The blanket was pulled aside and the white-haired girl slipped out to stand in the twilight gloom. “You are to take me to the main gate,” Noshi advised.

  “Is that right?” Calzon had the same instructions, but he would be damned if a scrap of a kid was going to tell him what to do.

  “Yes,” Noshi replied.

  Her calm confidence unnerved Calzon. He would make her afraid of him. She needed to be afraid of him. That was the source of his power.

  “Get your ass down to mud,” he growled.

  Noshi pulled a ragged shawl tighter around her shoulders and stepped lightly across the bridge. “You brought Jimin, Kalus, Morgy, and Depa?” Noshi turned her clouded eyes on each of them as she spoke their names. “I am flattered.”

  Calzon raised a hand and waved it in front of the girl’s eyes. She didn’t blink or react. “Blind as a cabbage,” he said.

  “I have always been blind, Calzon. Yet I see far more than you.”

  “You talk a lot of shit,” Calzon sneered with a confidence that could not hide his unease.

  “The Diorites are waiting,” Noshi reminded him.

  “The what now?” Jimin asked.

  “Slugs, spider brain. She’s talking about the slugs.” Calzon pounced on easier prey. “Hey!” Noshi had slipped past them and was climbing down the scaffolding to the walkway with a casual poise.

  “Move, you fucks,” Calzon snarled and followed her.

  II

  Noshi sensed the people around her. Their breath, the rustle of their clothes. The spectrum of scents that clung to everybody. It created a unique perception more detailed than sight.

  People moved out of her way, and she walked directly to the airlock gate. The scents here mingled with the low-frequency thrum of the Diorite machinery. She waited for Calzon and his gang to catch up.

  The men at the airlock were gone, returned to their hovels until needed again. Noshi inhaled the cold steel smell of the heavy door. She had no idea what lay beyond. If anyone did, they never spoke of it.

  At a control panel, Calzon keyed in a code, secret to anyone who didn’t rely on their ears as their primary sense. Noshi re-played the beeping sound in her head—seven buttons, seven tones. The door slid open, revealing the glistening wall of pulsing gel. Noshi hesitated. The smell was new to her and for the first time in her life, she felt unsure of her next step.

  “Go through,” Calzon said behind her. “That’s the orders.”

  Noshi extended a hand until her fingers passed into the gel, which pressed against her touch like warm flesh.

  “Ain’t got all cycle,” Calzon growled and shoved Noshi forward. She stumbled and passed through the barrier. The airlock hissed shut behind her.

  Noshi coughed, spitting the mouthful of gel that threatened to choke her. The surface under her feet was metal, a lattice grille of intersecting panels. The air was warm, wet, and odorless. It flowed like breath over Noshi and she waited, taking everything in, orienting herself in this new, strange space.

  Noshi. The voice from her dream echoed around her.

  “I am here,” she replied, her voice bouncing off the steel walls.

  Pizak continued, The section you are in is an extension of the containment unit. The atmosphere is controlled and suitable for your biochemistry.

  Noshi did not understand most of his words, but the Diorite’s voice in her head sounded friendly. “What do you want me for?”

  For the future, Pizak replied.

  “I don’t understand,” Noshi said after a moment of silence.

  You are not required to understand. You should only accept that I have a requirement and you are the first human recorded who meets certain specifications.

  His words remained meaningless to Noshi; she understood that he had something for her to do. She could wait to see what that was.

  Move forward, Pizak commanded. Noshi did not move for a count of three. Then she took a step.

  Her feet described the pattern of the floor and she followed it to the other side of the chamber. Another door slid open and she passed through.

  Pizak’s voice rolled through her. Remove your clothing. You

  will be cleaned and new attire provided.

  Water flowed from a spout. Noshi moved toward it and felt the air temperature rising. She removed the ragged cloth of her dress and let the shower pour over her, filling her senses.

  Something in the water lifted the dirt from her skin and she felt clean for the first time in her life.

  The clothes provided felt softer than any fabric she had known before. They had a soft scent she could not place. She dressed, working out how it fitted by the shape and sleeves.

  There is no one I can assign to assist you, Pizak said.

  “I never had any help before,” Noshi reminded him. She knew nothing about Diorites except the sound of their voices through the broadcasts. The other humans called them slugs, and Noshi had always wondered if slugs were beautiful.

  “Is this right?” Noshi stood, arms at her sides, ready for inspection.

  You are correctly attired, Pizak said. Move forward, through the door.

  Noshi found herself in what felt like a larger space. The slight sounds did not return to her as quickly in here.

  Associate yourself with your surroundings. You will be housed in this space.

  “For how long?” Noshi spoke to the darkness and it remained silent.

  She explored the room—soft furnishings, a chair, a bed. Things she had only heard of from other’s descriptions. Food smells around a slot in the wall. Her fingers brushed over a panel of recessed buttons. The gentle pressure made something beep. “Select food option,” a voice said.

  “I can’t see,” Noshi whispered.

  The voice recited a menu of unknown items. Noshi made a couple of selections. The panel opened, and a tray slid out. Noshi took it to a table and found a seat. Exploring the tray, she found soft mush, something that had the texture of bread, and other objects she couldn’t recognize.

  It was the best food she had ever tasted.

  III

  For Noshi, the transition from sleep to wakefulness meant a return of sensation. It always took her a moment to confirm she was no longer dreaming.

  Noshi. Pizak’s presence spoke to her in a way she felt more than heard.

  “Yes?” She sat up, ears straining to detect any sound out of place.

  Adorn yourself. Then eat. Today we begin.

  Breakfast had different textures and flavors than her previous meal. Noshi ate more than she had in her life. If this all ended today, she would treasure the memories.

  Pizak’s presence washed over her. Follow this sound. A tone called to her. Noshi stood up and moved in that direction.

  Access the cabinet, Pizak instructed. Noshi extended her arms, feeling nothing but space for several steps. Then her hands found a shape in the wall. It slid open under her touch.

  Adorn yourself. The garment will provide you with atmosphere.

  The clothes inside were different to the one-piece bodysuit Noshi currently wore. She found boots attached to the ends of the trousers, gloves at the ends of the arms, and a close-fitting helmet with a bulbous, blank face.

  Noshi struggled into the unfamiliar suit. It was thicker and fit easily over the clothes she currently wore. The helmet clicked into place, making Noshi take a deep breath in near panic. Then air flowed over her face and she breathed easily. “I can’t feel anything.” For the first time in her life, she felt truly blind.

  Activating sensors.

  Sensation rippled through Noshi’s fingers and feet. She felt the floor as if she were barefoot, and the textured surface of the enclosed suit as if the gloves were gone.

  Can you feel my presence, Pizak asked, his enunciation strange, the question phrased as flatly as a statement.

  “Yes.” Noshi almost laughed with relief. She could hear everything. The gentle hum of the machinery in the walls. The slight movement of her body and the qui
et passage of her breath.

  Bring yourself to my current location, Pizak instructed.

  “Where are you?” Noshi replied.

  Find me. It is the first lesson.

  “I don’t understand.” Noshi hated the weakness of her words. She stood in silence, a growing sense of frustration and embarrassment filling her until she thought the suit might explode.

  ”Think,” she scolded herself. “You are wearing some strange machine. It gives you air. Protection like the dome. Pizak wants you to go out into his world. Into the open air. Where you will die.”

  Life in the dome had been a constant struggle for survival for everyone. Noshi’s reputation had kept the worst assaults at bay. She lived with the constant fear that at any moment, someone might see through her mystery and she would become a slave to someone stronger. Someone like Pizak.

  Noshi moved around the room, marking off the food dispenser, the cabinet where the suit had come from, and the door that led back towards the dome. On the opposite side of the

  room she found a second door. This one had a panel on it that did not respond to her touch.

  She explored the door and found a circular disc with rods radiating from it. Noshi moved her hands and gripped the rods, she twisted the wheel until it loosened and then spun easily.

  The door slid open and Noshi moved into a new space, close and confined. A small, box-like room. Reaching out she felt the walls and with a stretch, her gloved fingers brushed the ceiling.

  The door closed behind her, startling Noshi into a moment of panic. She fumbled at the door. Finding the same spoked wheel on the inside, Noshi tugged on it with no effect.

  A shushing sound swirled around her. The suit pressed tight and then expanded as the internal atmosphere adjusted to the change in pressure. With tentative steps, Noshi walked out of the tiny chamber and into infinity.

  IV

  The limits of Noshi’s universe had always been defined by the dome; it gave scope to everything. Now she sensed no walls, no curving dome that shaped the acoustics of her surroundings. Instead, there was only absence. A strange emptiness that filled her with vertigo. Sinking into a crouch, Noshi pressed her hands against the ground, a hard surface with lines in regular patterns. In a crouch, she walked on hands and feet, tracing the lines, learning the pattern and regaining her composure. Standing tall, she took a step, relying on her feet to guide her, to follow the pattern.

  Her hand found a rail a moment before her feet; turning, she walked its path. Her left-hand skimmed over the surface, the certainty of it reassuring in this strange world. Noshi had wondered how she would know she had found Pizak, or if she was going in the right direction. Let him make contact if she strayed from the correct path.

  Something curled around her extended hand. Something more pliable than fingers, like the tip of a rope. Noshi froze at the strange touch. “Pizak?”

  Know me as Mukari. The voice in her head sounded similar to Pizak’s but different.

  “Noshi.”

  Pizak has ordered you.

  To Noshi, it should have been a question, but like Pizak’s voice in her mind, it lacked the essentials of tone.

  “Pizak invited me to find him.”

  Invited…

  “Asked me to find him.”

  Explanation for action. Again, a question delivered as a statement.

  “Pizak spoke of, uh, Kartharis.”

  Ka’tharis. You will need to be prepared. Ka’tharis indicates uncertain probabilities.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Ka’tharis does not require comprehension. Perception comes with memory.

  “Can you tell me where Pizak is? I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

  Your sensory organs are inefficient. You have congenital defects.

  Noshi didn’t bother asking what that meant. “I need to find Pizak.”

  Affirmative.

  “Pizak,” Noshi stated.

  Continue on your present path. Enter structure. Ascend to the fourth level. Pizak is located.

  “Thank you.”

  Gratitude acknowledged.

  The tentacle withdrew and Noshi continued her journey. The rail and the marks in the tiled floor guided her until she walked into a wall. Exploring the flat surface, she found a door, which opened. Reminding herself that she was being tested, Noshi stepped through and felt the door slide shut behind her.

  “State required level.” This voice lacked the inference and tonality of a living voice.

  Noshi wondered who or what spoke. “Ascend to level four,” she replied.

  The space around her moved. Noshi pressed her hand against the wall, disorientated by the sudden sensation of rising. By the time she remembered to breathe, the motion stopped and the door opened.

  “Level four,” the flat voice said.

  “Thank you,” Noshi stepped out. “Pizak,” she said.

  Noshi. Welcome. A warm familiarity engulfed her.

  “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

  You are unique among your species.

  “Aren’t we each unique?” Noshi had been told that there were no other humans left except those in the dome. Their species was nearly extinct, one of millions of life forms in the Galaxy that had flared brightly, spread like an outbreak of disease and then had been crushed by a stronger force, their own greed, or a stop in reproduction.

  By what qualification are you all unique.

  “We are few.”

  Your species utilizes only five senses. You detect light on a short spectrum. You detect vibrations in atmosphere. You have sensory nerve cells across the surface of your bodies. You taste with the same orifice you use to communicate and you detect molecules with a limited sensitivity through your respiratory system.

  “I can’t see,” Noshi reminded him.

  Yes. In this you are unique. You are the only human born with a sensory deficit of this degree who has survived beyond infancy.

  “They died as… babies?”

  Yes.

  “How?”

  Your statement has no identifiable purpose.

  Noshi tried again. “How did they die?”

  We do not record the specifics of the instances. Just the numbers.

  “How many?” Noshi asked.

  Eighty-seven. Since the establishment of the reservation.

  “Is that a lot?”

  It is not a significant number, Pizak replied.

  “But… one survivor is?” Noshi breathed through the silence that followed. The audio system built into the suit told her ears that Pizak was still nearby. Even inside the suit, with its own air supply, she could smell something different through the filters. A specific scent that she associated with the strange presence of Pizak.

  Move forward until advised to cease, Pizak said.

  Noshi did so.

  Extend your right hand. The furniture you feel has been crafted to fit your body form. Recline in a manner comfortable for you.

  Noshi slid into the seat. Softer than anything she had ever felt, it molded around her, and she had a strange flash of memory from the womb.

  We will now begin, Pizak said. Rope like tendrils touched her helmet and then, to her shock, she felt them caress her face, exploring her features with light brush strokes similar to how she discovered details in anything new. It felt oddly familiar to be on the receiving end of such an inspection.

  The tendrils spread over her forehead and temples. To Noshi it felt like a fist opening, spreading fingers pressing against her skin. The contact pulsed and her world filled with light.

  Chapter 4

  During the first month, every daylight cycle began with the braying of an electronic alarm. Erik and the other volunteers from the dome had less than a minute to roll out of their cots, straighten and stow the beds, pull on their one-piece bodysuits and boots, and be standing ramrod straight in precisely marked positions.

  At fifty-five seconds, the door at the end of the barracks room opened and Ki
ll-Sergeant Crysto marched in screaming about how useless they all were.

  Like everyone else in the barracks, Erik hated Crysto. She was one of five kill-sergeants who screamed at the squad from the first alarm until they passed out on their cots at the end of the day.

  Crysto kicked the cot panel behind the recruit stationed next to Erik. The bed unfolded from the wall and the kill-sergeant tore the bedding off the foam base and sent it flying across the room. “What the fuck is this shit?!” Crysto screamed. You think this is stowed? You shit-eating fuck.”

  “No, Kill-Sergeant!” the young recruit bellowed.

  “Stow this shit! Stow it like you mean it! The rest of you dumb-fucks! Get the fuck out of here!”

  The squad stampeded for the door, bursting out of the barracks shed and forming up on the dusty ground outside.

  Kill-Sergeant Mosan barked at them while they fell into line, yelling until they were straight and standing to his liking.

  “Today you learn to live in your own portable atmosphere!” The armored suit stood on a metal frame. It was fitted to a human shape with dark armored plates on the torso, arms, and legs. “The self-contained atmosphere apparatus will be your entire world. You will live and die inside this suit. You will traverse the yellow deserts, the green mountains, and the forests and plains of this world and a hundred others with your pasty asses packed inside one of these suits!”

  Mosan pulled an armored helmet off the back of the rack. It had a clear face plate of curved plastic and a dark, close fitting helm that connected to the suit’s collar. “This is your new face! After today this is the only head I ever want to see. It will be your fucking window on the world. Through this you will see your enemy. You will kill your enemy and you will emerge victorious on the field of battle.”

  The kill-sergeant’s demonstrated how to don the suits and yelled at the squad while they struggled to get the unfamiliar armor on and locked in position. On Erik’s slight frame the armor weighed a ton. He felt a rising sense of panic as the suit contracted to fit him. He would never be able to move in this fucking thing.