He hoped he had been sufficiently polite to deflect retribution away from Hortez, but he felt anything but deference for the foul monkey-veck.
You haven’t seen the last of me, Tawfiq Woomer-Calix.
—— Chapter 23 ——
“It is a caste thing,” said Pedro, after Arun had recounted his meeting with Hortez on his way over. “It is like our guardians. Our people go through many phases as they progress through their lifecycle from hatching to enriching the soil with their rotting flesh. The phases are more than just different roles, there are profound physiological and mental changes too. At the end of a long and useful life our people become a burden on the nest. We can no longer support them. They must give way so others can replace them. It is no different from your brief human lives giving way to the next generation.”
“You’re wrong,” said Arun. He got to his feet and started pacing the hard-packed dirt floor, clenching his fists. Pedro had learned not to become alarmed by Arun’s displays of anger and gave Arun time to collect his thoughts.
“We’ve all got to go sometime,” said Arun. “I get that. But Hortez and the kids who failed school? That isn’t right. It’s like we toss them into a deep well of despair. Then we turn our backs and pretend to forget all about it, because if we ever peered into that well, we would be so consumed by grief that we would throw ourselves in and drown in that despair.”
“You are young,” said Pedro. “Mortality and youth do not sit together comfortably.”
“That’s what I mean. Hortez and the kids who failed school are just teenagers. They aren’t spent husks like the guardians of your people. They’re only just starting out in life. A caste thing? No, we humans don’t have castes.”
“Don’t you? Tranquility is a complex multi-species planet, and part of an even more complex star system that is itself part of the White Knight empire. You humans are the lowest caste of all. And these Aux the lowest human sub-caste. You do not like this but it is the truth. You are in a caste system whether you like it or not.”
Arun chewed that over. He sat down, embarrassed by his need to pace in front of the alien. “Okay – so we’re bottom of the heap. How do the Hardits fit in? Are they the next layer up?”
“It is more complicated. They see themselves as equal or superior to the Jotuns but the White Knights gave the Jotuns the responsibility to run system defense and the supply of Marines. Your Marine base is a relatively recent addition to our star system. It was a mining system for millennia before that. Hardits dislike all other species, but those who share our planet reserve a special level of hatred for the Jotuns for disturbing their star system, as they see it, and for you humans for being the cause of the Marine base’s expansion. What makes it worse for the Aux is that there are many levels in Hardit society. The Hardit you spoke to will be one of the lowest of all Hardits, probably a criminal. From their perspective, to be tasked with overseeing human Aux workers is a humiliating punishment.”
“I always thought they looked perpetually angry. The Hardits I see are failures who take out their frustration on the one group even lower than them – their human workers. Figures. But if they’re such losers, why hasn’t Hortez stood up to them more? He was a Marine cadet, if only for a few days. That counts for something.”
Intoxicating thoughts of freedom and rebellion swirled around Arun’s mind. “Tell me more about the Hardits,” he asked his friend.
Pedro answered without hesitation. “The species you call Hardits originate on the planet Iradis 3. First contact with the Tans-Species Union was 0.73 million years ago. Unlike most primitive species, the Hardits initiated that contact. They are a sexual species, the sexes barely tolerating each other except during mating season. Their principal sense is smell, and the average lifespan without longevity treatment is 172 years.”
The Trog gave no sign of consulting a softscreen or any other gadget. How did he know all those facts? “That’s not what I’m after,” Arun told Pedro. “Give me more than dull facts. Something that marks them out as different.”
Pedro thought a moment. “Sometimes they are said to be able to see through solid rock. In fact they have a highly developed sensitivity to changes in gravity. In practice that means they know exactly how far they are below the surface of their planet. If two groups of Hardit miners began tunneling toward each other at opposite ends of a planet, you could be confident that the two teams would meet at precisely the same point without needing any technology more sophisticated than picks and shovels.”
Arun frowned. “No, that’s still not it. Tell me their weaknesses. Give me something I can exploit.”
“Since we became friends, human McEwan, I have studied your planet of origin. Your Earth and the Hardit planet are unremarkable except for one aspect you both share: magnetism. Your planet has an iron-nickel core that operates as a dynamo, producing an extremely powerful planetary magnetic field. The Hardit planet’s core has more sulfur than iron, and even more significantly, their planet’s mantle is highly metalized. This destabilizes the dynamo effect of their core resulting in a remarkably weak magnetic field.”
“So? They never grew up knowing about compasses.”
“The significance is rather more than that, human. A planet’s magnetic field is like a force field, shielding the surface of the planet from the high energy particle stream emitted from the local star. Stellar flares from Earth’s star cause power blackouts and damage to unshielded electronics but this has not been enough to place evolutionary pressure on your species’ development. With such a weak magnetic field on the Hardit planet, their star has blasted away most of their planet’s atmosphere, and left the surface a sterile husk.”
“Hold on a minute. If there’s no life on their planet, how did the Hardits evolve there?”
“I did not say the planet was lifeless, only that the surface is.”
“So they’re delvers. They live underground, like you in your nests.”
Pedro spiraled his antenna in amusement. “They hardly resemble us, but yes their habitat is below the planet’s crust. Vast natural caverns extend for depths of many miles beneath the surface. Which is why they are used as miners. Give them a little gravity, and dirt or rock overhead, and they will be happy, whether on a planet, moon, or asteroid.
“Aliens 101 is all very well, but I asked you to give me the lowdown on their weaknesses. Do they go catatonic when you shine a bright light in their eyes? See that’s something I could use. Maybe a common human cooking ingredient is a powerful narcotic? Like garlic. That’s it! They go wild for garlic because it gives them such a mega-high and leaves them so blissed out they don’t know what they’re doing. That would work. C’mon, you gotta give me something.”
Pedro flattened his feelers in disdain. “As if a human cooking ingredient would be a narcotic for an alien species. Do you realize how incredibly unlikely that would be?”
“Lay off, Pedro. It’s just an example. I need to understand how to beat them, is all.”
“If you had listened then you would already understand.”
“Do what?”
“I have already been telling you what you asked for.”
“About magnetic fields and stuff?”
“Yes.”
That brought Arun up short, but he couldn’t get his head around what the overgrown insect meant. “This is what our inter-species chats are all about, isn’t it? Mutual incomprehension. You tell me something alien that makes no sense. Then you give me an explanation that makes even less sense. You love it. You’re conducting an experiment. How much alien drent can you fill my poor human head with until my brain melts? Is that it?”
“Your words do not make sense,” said Pedro through his voice box. “But I am learning your tangential ways now. I interpret what you just said as the following. One: I am angry. Two: I fear for my friend, Hortez. Three: I am too ignorant to understand your advice.”
Arun shrugged. He was learning too – learning that there was no point in getting angry with aliens
. “I figure that about covers it.”
“Then allay your concern. It is my calling as a scribe to address the shortcomings of the ignorant. That is why I enjoy our conversations so intensely.” Pedro gave a little jump. He did that sometimes when excited. “The significance of their evolution is that Hardits are agoraphobic – they do not like large open spaces in general and planetary surfaces in particular. This is not merely psychological, they are very prone to cancers caused by exposure to Tranquility’s sun. Ultraviolet radiation is lethal to them. They are easily dazzled by bright lights. Tranquility’s air, even the pumped and filtered air we two are breathing in this lovely chamber, is heavy and oxygen-rich to them. You humans call them lazy. They are actually an industrious species, but they find the dense atmosphere very tiring. If they exert themselves, they hyperventilate easily. You think you see them dozing but they are not asleep. They are slowing heartbeat and breathing in order to regulate blood-oxygen levels. They do not acknowledge you because you are beneath their notice.”
“Yeah, I got it,” interrupted Arun. “We gotta use flash-bombs.” He was about to go but paused. The big insect had helped him. He hated to admit it – after all the trouble his contact with Trogs had caused – but he owed Pedro. Rewarding the big lug was child’s play.
“Thanks,” said Arun. The insect’s antennae circled lazily, indicating his pleasure at Arun’s word. “Thanks… friend.” Pedro’s antennae circles grew larger.
Arun reckoned he’d done enough alien chat for one day not to earn Colonel Little Scar’s displeasure. “Gotta go now. Hortez needs me. Gonna get myself a posse.”
“What does that word mean?”
“Look it up, Pedro.”
“But you cannot go yet,” said Pedro, his circling feelers flopping to an abrupt halt. “Our inter-species learning has not progressed enough in this session.”
“You reckon? I’m gonna raise a posse and I’ve just explained why. That’s enough to keep your feelers wriggling for a bit.”
“A poss-ee…?” The voice box raised up the last syllable, indicating Pedro’s confusion. Pedro must have been mulling over the word, looking it up probably, because when Arun grabbed his bike, the alien said: “You mean an affectionate term for the species Felis catus, especially those kept as a domesticated emotional symbiont?”
“No, I don’t mean a frakking cat. P-O-S-S-E. Look it up.” As he set off along the nest tunnel on the long journey back to his hab-disk, he called over his shoulder. “You wanted to learn something about humans. We have a saying: No Marine left behind. Watch and learn what that means, pal.”
—— Chapter 24 ——
The cadet posse finally cornered Tawfiq, the Hardit bully, in a deserted passageway off Corridor 710 on Level 5, not far from their old novice school.
Only Springer and Majanita had joined Arun. As a posse it was pathetic, but at 3-1 odds they didn’t fear the lone Hardit as they closed in, blocking her and forcing her to acknowledge their presence. Arun still felt dangerously exposed, and kept glancing back over his shoulder.
When he’d returned from his talk with Pedro, Arun had scoured the hab-disk and battalion chow halls, looking for allies he could trust.
Most of his squad had been in gunnery practice, but Springer and Majanita had been studying in their dorm. Cristina had been there too, and tried to convince them of the insanity of their plan. But once Madge had heard what they’d done to Hortez, nothing would stand in her way. Not reason, that was for sure.
She’d listened to Arun for about three seconds before going to the dorm armory and helping herself to three flash-bombs. Then she went back and brought out six more, which she divided between Springer and Arun.
And now, here they were in a tense standoff with the murdering alien overseer.
Arun felt the pouch on his hip that bulged with the flash-bomb within.
He undid the pouch flap.
“I saw you earlier,” he told the alien. “You’re Tawfiq Woomer-Calix, aren’t you?”
The Hardit gave no indication that she had heard Arun speak. She was looking up at the ceiling as if inspecting a dirty patch.
“We apologize,” said Springer hurriedly.
What? Arun looked wide eyed at his friend.
“We do not have experience of interacting with your people,” Springer continued. “Please accept our apologies. May we beg permission to converse with you?”
Arun was all for begging permission with his fists, but maybe Springer’s way would yield results faster.
The Hardit slowly lowered her head and looked at Arun. “This one thinks I should recognize him,” she growled in Hardit speech, a toneless voice translating at the same time into human words through a collar-mounted speaker. Unlike the clanking gears of Pedro’s box, this translator was silent and hidden. It wasn’t as convincingly human, though.
“All of you look identical,” said the Hardit, “and that stench humans have of rotting cheese – you stink worse than nest insects. I refuse to accept apologies. I speak with you because I want you gone and this best way to make you…” There was a pause as the alien selected the optimum translation. “Frakk off!”
“We have questions,” said Arun. “About rumors we have heard concerning the human Aux. We would like to know whether they are true.” He paused, but the alien gave no acknowledgment. She didn’t give a refusal either, so he pressed on. “Is it true that your Aux team is given insufficient food to stay alive, their quarters so cramped that they cannot lie down to sleep, and that you sometimes kill your workers for reasons other than disobedience or treachery?”
It was hard to tell, but Tawfiq seemed to concentrate, to work through the translation. Then she reacted, bringing itself fully erect and confronting Arun.
The alien was a head shorter than the cadets but she yielded nothing to her taller accuser as she raised her head so that her snout almost rubbed on his chin. She breathed out through a wall of teeth, blowing a smell his way that was rich and meaty, and beginning to choke the back of Arun’s throat.
The cadets hadn’t thought this through. Arun was acutely aware of that, but he couldn’t back down in front of this arrogant murderer. “Are the rumors true?” he pressed.
“I do not deny them.”
Arun was trying to work out whether that meant yes or no when Madge took over. “We want assurances,” she insisted. “The humans are to be well treated. Enough space to sleep properly as becomes our species. Enough food for them to be healthy. A shower once a week and an end to the killings.”
Tawfiq breathed again into Arun’s face. He got the feeling it was meant as the ultimate insult. The Hardit ignored Madge’s words.
“We have ample food and shelter,” said Springer, “and we can share what we have. Let’s work something out. If your workers were healthier and happier they would be more productive. Surely that would be to your benefit.”
Tawfiq stepped back. “I have indulged your foolishness.” She wrinkled her nose. “And your stench. Now stand aside or face the consequences.”
That was it! Arun snapped. He brought his flash-bomb out of his pouch and brandished it in front of the murdering veck. “Do you know what this is, alien?”
“We wish no confrontation,” said Springer.
“What my comrade says is still just about true,” added Arun. “But the prospect of confrontation is feeling better by the second.”
“Our two species are allies,” said Springer. “But we humans are trained to kill, Hardit. It is what we have been bred for. I think with these flash-bombs we can fight and hurt you without killing. But we might not be able to control our violent nature.”
“Yeah,” said Madge. “Shall we find out?” She drew out her flash-bomb. “These devices stun enemy soldiers. They give out such noise, light and radiation that they can fry unhardened enemy targeting systems. Show us your human workers. Show us where they live. Let us talk with them, or we shall find out what these bombs do to you.”
“You would n
ot dare, human.”
“We give you ten seconds,” said Madge.
The Hardit folded her arms and looked at the ceiling.
“Nine,” said Madge
Was this an enormous mistake?
“Eight.”
Madge sounded impatient to finish her countdown. But she hadn’t experienced the glare of an angry Jotun. Arun was in no hurry to explain to Colonel Little Scar that he’d attacked a Hardit.
“Seven.”
Arun glanced at Springer. He could see she wasn’t sure either, but she was bringing out her own flash-bomb.
“Six.”
He’d like to think they were a band of gallant adventurers, living up to the Marine motto.
“Five.”
Never leave a Marine behind.
“Four.”
But they’d been flung into this confrontation on the crest of a wave of bluster and indignation.
“Three.”
Where would that wave spill them when it broke?
“Two.”
Was it too late to back out now?
“One.”
Madge’s hand twitched but she did nothing. She must have had the same doubts all along. Springer stayed her hand too.
“You are as weak as you are stupid,” sneered the Hardit. “It is your cowardice that enables us to exterminate you like the vermin you are.”
Arun grabbed the flash-bombs from Springer and Majanita, and dashed all three to the ground.
—— Chapter 25 ——
The flash-bomb was so loud that the noise reached inside Arun’s ears and twisted his poor brain into knots, squeezing out his awareness like sweat wrung from a sodden shirt. Arun had turned his head away from the blast just before it went off. Even so, the flash was bright enough to bore through the rear of his skull and sear a white patch onto the back of his retinas.
Unlike the Hardit veck – hopefully – the cadets had experienced flash-bombs many times before. After a few seconds, Arun’s brain untwisted and the after-image of the flash began to flake away. Only a high-pitched wail continued, rising in pitch and volume to unbearable levels.
Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) Page 17
