Madge thought over his words. “Only if you let them, McEwan,” she whispered back. “I know I gave you a hard time when you stood up for me this morning. That was to make you angry. I mean, sure you were dumb to do what you did, but dumb is what you are. I was trying to give you the gift of anger, though Horden knows you don’t deserve any gifts after your serial frakk ups. Give in to your rage. Seethe at the injustice all around. Use that energy to fight your instincts and stay alive.”
“But do you have a blade? I promise it isn’t to use as a combat weapon against the monkey-vecks.”
Madge sighed. “You’d better be telling the truth, McEwan.” She lowered her voice to the barest whisper. “Springer and I had flexible las-blades sown into our underwear. We’ve got needle and thread too.”
Arun nearly laughed at that but cut himself off just in time. “Good old, Rekka. She always said a well-prepared Marine always goes into battle with needle and thread. Guess she was right. “Now, don’t be coy, corporal, it doesn’t suit you. When you said underwear, which piece? It’s not as if you’re actually wearing any.”
“First you tell me your plan.”
“It involves you making a great sacrifice.” Arun looked shamefaced: he’d not fully thought of what his idea meant for Madge. “I’m sorry. Really, but I want you to help me stay alive.”
“Stop vulleying around, McEwan, and tell me what you want me to do.”
“It involves taking off your clothes.”
The flicker of disgust on Madge’s face was swiftly replaced by the shock of understanding when she figured out what Arun was planning. She slid into the sexy pout she’d often worn in happier times when they’d still been novices. “For you, darling, anything,” she said. “You clever boy. You’ll find what you’re looking for in our bras.”
Springer had sensed the change of mood and woken. Hortez snored on. None of them offered to help Arun in his task of locating the undergarments in the room packed with sleeping Aux. So he set about his task, trying his best to ignore his two grinning comrades while he whispered apologies to the Aux as he jostled them awake. He rammed his hands underneath them in search of two items amongst the sea of nesting material.
His squadmates would be recording this. Of that he had no doubt. The data flow down their optic nerves would be copied into their auxiliary storage implants. If they ever made it back to hab-disk 6/14 alive, the story of Arun and his nighttime bra hunt would spread wide, and he would be a figure of fun for the rest of his life.
Couldn’t the girls see that this was important? Just for once he’d prefer them to be more like robots.
Eventually Springer and Madge tired of their fun and joined the bra hunt. A confused Hortez looked on, slowly coming to his senses.
Perhaps the relative freshness of the newcomers’ clothing was a highly prized luxury. Everything else placed next to their skin was greasy and stained. Their pants and shirts were in use as blankets, but the bras were more difficult to locate. They found Madge’s stuffed down the front of one Aux’s overalls. He said it was just insulation; they said it constituted wearing forbidden clothing. He gave up the bra without a fight.
Springer’s bra was the most difficult to find. In the end it was the look on Adrienne’s face that gave her away. By now, most of the Aux were awake and resentful, offering mumbled curses and scowls but not resistance. Adrienne’s expression was different. Underneath the annoyance was a defensive look. She had something to hide.
When Madge and Springer searched her, they found she was actually wearing Springer’s bra, even though it was so tight it must have been uncomfortable. Adrienne didn’t fight back as they stripped her of the garment, but they knew they had made an enemy there, and a dangerous one. The other Aux seemed afraid of Number 87.
Once they’d gathered the underwear, the Blue Squad comrades pushed their way to one of the walls, huddled together and set to work.
Adrienne spied on them. Arun began to wonder whether she was a snitch, spying for the Hardits in return for some pathetic scraps of food or favors.
Hortez and Arun shielded the girls by standing up, arms folded and glaring at Adrienne. She pretended to lose interest but kept throwing sly glances their way.
Arun caught a whiff of burning and then Springer swapped places with Hortez who was an expert with needle and thread.
You never quite knew what would happen next with Springer, which was one reason why she was so popular. One thing was for sure: she didn’t have the patience of Hortez.
The next time Adrienne spied on them, Springer gave a cry of rage and barged through the crush of people, aiming straight for her. Adrienne looked away. Then she looked back but Springer was still charging toward her. The Aux woman blanched, getting to her feet just in time for Springer to slam her down onto her butt. Springer sat down, straddling Adrienne’s lap.
Springer kissed her. She embraced the Aux girl with the same furious energy that had propelled her across the room like a missile. Springer never did things by half, which is why Arun both adored her and was scared of her in equal measure. Her hands roamed down Adrienne’s back, squeezing and kneading.
Arun looked on, astonished. Springer’s eyes blazed with violet, a light so intense that the glow lit up Adrienne’s face. He caught Springer glancing back at him. Her glowing eyes were like a laser range-finder searching for some reaction from him.
Then she was back in Adrienne’s face, drawn back by Adrienne herself who had pushed Springer away at first, but was now clutching at her hungrily.
“That’s quite a display,” said Hortez who had finished his task. He punched Arun on the arm.
“Please, Hortez. Give our Springer some respect. She’s not putting on a display for our benefit, and she’s not doing that for pleasure. She’s making a diversion to distract that snitch.”
“Sure, man. It’s that too.”
Before Arun could think of an answer, Springer gave one of her own. She broke off, shoving Adrienne against the wall. Number 87 looked on helplessly as Springer hawked up a mouthful of spit. But at the last moment, Springer changed her mind and didn’t unleash the gobful at the cowering girl.
From someone who a few moments earlier had shown more spirit than any of the other Aux, Adrienne now looked lost and fearful. Then she started to sob.
Springer left the weeping girl alone and rejoined her group.
Arun had no idea what that was all about but Hortez grabbed Springer’s arm as she walked past. “You’ve still got pity in you,” he said. “That’s good. Don’t let them drive it out of you. Don’t hate us, not even Adrienne Miller. It’s better that you pity us.”
“You always did deep-talk nonsense, Hortez,” said Springer. “I don’t hate you Aux.”
“Give it time,” said Hortez. “You have plenty left to see.”
—— Chapter 33 ——
“Step forward, 106,” ordered Tawfiq.
A ragged human figure detached itself from the roll-call lineup and stood, head bowed, before Tawfiq and Hen.
“Step forward, 109.”
A second figure emerged, equally cowed but distinguishable from the first by a blonde ponytail sneaking out the back of a standard Aux hat.
Tawfiq glanced across at Hen, rubbing tails as she did. “This one with long hair is an attractive female,” she explained in the growling Hardit tongue but keeping her translator on automatic to give the humans the full benefit of their humiliation. “The other is male. He understands consequences of defiance. Amusing query. Can he control his protective urge toward her?”
Tawfiq appeared to expect a reply, but Hen stayed silent. “He couldn’t help himself yesterday,” Tawfiq continued, “so I give him level 3 pain. Today I will use level 4 if he intervenes. Do you understand, human?”
106 gave a nod.
“Stupid though these human animals are, surely even they aren’t that stupid,” argued Hen.
“Query? Shall we wager?”
“Agreed. Ten credits.”
The two entwined tails.
“If you understood these creatures as I do,” said Tawfiq, “you would realize that the male has marked out this female as one of his harem. This means she has exchanged mating rights in return for his protection. His hormones will drive him to protect his female or die trying.”
“I’d like to see one of our males claim mating rights over me!” said Hen.
“Hah! Hah! Hah!”
Both Hardits doubled over and made retching sounds. Laughter, Arun assumed, because Tawfiq’s translator system accompanied the sounds with ‘hah’s. Hen’s translator was better than Tawfiq’s with normal speech. With laughter, it kept silent.
“Let us see,” said Tawfiq when she’d recovered. “Stand closer, 106 and 109.”
They obeyed.
“Stop staring at ground. I wish you look into each other’s eyes.”
They complied. There was the faintest of reactions from the crowd, but the Hardits showed no sign of noticing anything wrong.
Even Adrienne kept quiet, persuaded to keep that way by Springer and Hortez who were flicking threatening glances her way.
Tawfiq began to smack the female with her tail, while watching the male’s face, daring him to react.
What the humans all saw was the results of the newcomers’ activity the night before, the first part of Arun’s plan – not that he’d fully worked out the rest just yet.
Arun and Madge had swapped overalls. They’d used the secreted las-blades to cut off Madge’s blonde ponytail. Hortez’s expert needlework reattached the hair so that it hung down from Arun’s hat.
To the humans the disguise was farcically bad.
But their overseers were the products of a very different chain of evolution. Humans all looked the same to them. They suspected nothing.
Under the gaze of Madge and the Hardits, Arun endured a very mild beating that was more than made up for by knowing he was putting one over on the stupid, skangat monkey-bitch Hardits who thought they were beating Madge.
Best of all, Arun was showing them up in full view of every human there.
Eventually Hen grabbed Tawfiq’s tail in hers, bringing the beating to an end. “That’s enough,” she told Tawfiq. “You lose upon this occasion. Time to get to work.”
Tawfiq pressed some tokens into Hen’s hand, and watched as Hen walked off.
After glaring at the humans for a while, Tawfiq darted into the line-up and brought out Springer and Hortez. “I have a task for new ones and–” she tapped Hortez on his head “–this one who I know is your friend. You will go up top surface. Hen Beddes-Stolarz has a delivery waiting in Bay 32 to make to the fields scum in Alabama.” She paused, lips curling high about her teeth. “In fact that will be your task for rest of the week. You go to Alabama every day whether there is a delivery to make or not.”
She grabbed Springer’s face, squashing her cheeks together. “You do realize why, don’t you?”
“Yes, mistress. We will burn.”
“Correct. You will burn.”
Tawfiq increased the pressure on Springer’s cheeks until she winced. Satisfied, the overseer assigned the tasks to the other workers, and then stormed off.
As soon as she was out of sight, Adrienne was in Madge’s face, hands on hips and a sneer across her face. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t run after Tawfiq and tell her the stunt you just pulled?”
“Because you keep your life.” Madge didn’t put any aggression in to her voice, but she spoke with absolute conviction as if Adrienne’s death would be as certain as night follows day.
Adrienne gave a bitter laugh. “My life isn’t worth drent. Have you forgotten last night? Do I have to spell it out?”
“Yes,” said Arun.
Springer sighed. “I think what Adrienne means is that she–”
“Stop calling me Adrienne!”
Arun watched in silence as a tear came to Adrienne’s eye. She wiped it away.
“For a moment you reminded me of who I once was,” the Aux girl snarled, beaming hatred at Springer through slitted eyes. “You veck. Your touch reminded me. Once… once there was someone special. But now he’s dead and so is Adrienne. I’m Number 87 now.”
“That’s only what the Hardits call you,” said Springer.
“No, it’s what they have made me.”
“Well,” said Madge, “if your life has no value, how would you like more food instead?”
Adrienne pursed her lips, holding back her initial retort. “All right. How?”
“By taking it from Cliffie,” said Madge.
Adrienne snorted. “That didn’t work out too well last time, did it?”
“No?” Madge smiled. “Trust me. That was just reconnoitering.”
“Consider this,” said Hortez. “If we put Cliffie out of the picture permanently, what then?”
“Nothing,” spat Adrienne. “One of his gang will take his place.”
“Eventually,” said Hortez, “if left to their own devices. But they will be off balance. Destabilized. Vulnerable while they fought for succession. If there was a strong man–” he looked Adrienne in the eye “–or strong woman waiting to seize the initiative, to take Cliffie’s place, to stand up to them… What then? Don’t forget we outnumber Gamma by 3 to 2.”
Adrienne shrugged. “Perhaps. But we would need to get rid of Cliffie. I don’t see how.”
“Leave it to me,” said Arun. “I have powerful friends and I’m just only getting started here.”
Arun watched the changes come over Adrienne’s face. She wasn’t convinced, but just for a moment she looked away, her eyes glazing as she thought through possible futures. Better futures.
They’d given her hope.
——
Bay 32 was on Level 9 in an industrial zone of workshops and production lines where the throb and hum of motors and conveyor belts made the floor shake.
Arun’s face lit up when he saw their cargo was waiting for them packed into wooden crates and already loaded onto hover-trolleys.
Hover-trolleys! Carrying their load would be easy.
Once they had swung the trolleys out of the corner of the bay on hover power, Hortez spoiled the mood by explaining that the fuel for the hover motors wouldn’t be enough to get them topside, let alone all the way to Alabama, which was 17 klicks away through the Trollstigen mountain pass and out into the western plateau.
So they saved the hover capability for more difficult terrain, and had made their way up two levels of the nearest spine ramp before Madge called a rest halt.
Hortez was already tiring.
Let’s crack open the crates,” Madge suggested. “We’ll take out some of your load, Hortez, and redistribute between the three of us.”
“No,” said Hortez. “We keep going as we are.”
“C’mon, man,” said Arun. “We’re stronger than you. Don’t be a dumbchuck.”
“It’s not pride making me say no, it’s self-preservation. I don’t know what’s in these crates and don’t want to.”
“Why?” Arun asked. “What do you think we’re carrying?”
“I assumed they were machine parts,” said Springer.
Hortez shrugged. “They might be.”
“And they might not,” Arun finished for him. “Spill!”
“It’s just rumors,” said Hortez reluctantly. “Talk of black market smuggling.”
“Smuggling? Smuggling what?” Arun said. “We get everything we need. Don’t the Hardits?”
“Arun, Arun.” Springer slapped him on the back. She was laughing, the sound a balm for Arun’s bruised spirits. “It’s not that we have everything we need so much as you lack the imagination to want for anything.”
When Arun showed no sign of understanding, she added: “How did you think the corporal’s hair got to be that shade of blonde? There aren’t any hair salons in the hab-disks, you know.”
“There’s always a favor that can be done,” added Madge. “
A little surplus to be creamed off, help to be given. A thousand ways to make life a little more bearable. And all of that is tradable.”
“The Hardits are at the heart of it all,” said Hortez. “It’s in their nature. They’re natural traders. You gotta see it from their point of view. They were here for a very long time before the Jotuns and we humans showed up. We’re like unwelcome guests to them.”
“I kinda picked up on the unwelcome part already,” said Arun.
“Right,” said Hortez. “And guests don’t go nosing around in the hidden corners of someone else’s home. Not if they know what’s good for them.”
“All right, we’ll do it your way for now,” said Madge. “Now get off your butts and start moving. If we’re to keep down to Hortez’s pace, we can’t afford to hang around.”
—— Chapter 34 ——
On the far side of Trollstigen Pass, they came to a crossroads. To right and left the road hugged the foothills of the towering mountains. A simple track ran before them as straight as an energy beam, a gravel and dirt causeway leading to Agri-Facility 21, known by most of the humans as the Alabama Depot.
Although they were still in deep shadow, they could see the landscape opening up before them, the sides of the track sloping down into fields of wheat, maize and barley that waved in the gentle breeze like a golden greeting.
Indeed, it did feel as if the land were welcoming their return, even the fresh outdoor smells were inviting. All of them had been here before in happier times, as novices hiking with heavy packs or running in powered suits or unencumbered, running in nothing more than fatigues and peaked caps.
Arun knew the track carried on far beyond Alabama, as far as the timber plantations. The soil was richer there – or at least different, suitable for growing crops for Detroit’s non-human residents. There was Gloigas, long-haired, twisting brown columns crowned with lush purple leaves. And the lurid green, but apparently nutritious, roots of the Tarngrip, which snaked through the undergrowth, trying to ensnare slow-moving limbs, trapping them before slowly crushing the life out of them through hydraulic pressure. The Tarngrips were far too slow to trap a human, at least while you were awake. The carnivorous plants were native to the same homeworld as the Hardits, a planet that had little oxygen in its thin atmosphere, which meant most things moved in slow motion.
Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) Page 22
