“Partying!”
“No, I mean, like, what did we tell the Hardits we were doing?”
“Oh. Something about a fire, I think.”
Arun took a moment to understand Springer’s slurred speech. He remembered now. He looked up at the fake fire in the roof and frowned. He didn’t remember anyone applying the smoking gel for a long while.
“Getting dark,” said Springer. “D’ya think they’re getting worried ’bout us?”
She and Arun looked into each other’s eyes, trying to keep a straight face. They erupted into giggles.
Arun retrieved the communicator from where Adrienne had last left it. With a flourish, he activated the device.
There was the briefest of pauses before Tawfiq’s voice screamed through the speaker. “Report. Report. Report!”
“Tawfiq. How’re you, my fine, furry friend?”
“Who is this?”
“197. 222?” Arun scratched his head. “I don’t recall. I never forget a name but with numbers… I’m hopeless.”
“What occurs? Report!”
“Keep yer fur on. What’re we doing, eh?” He looked around at the buzzing party. The dance floor was heaving to the percussive rhythms struck from upturned metal drums. “Umm, we’re busy, I guess.”
“What is that noise I hear?”
“People. People doing stuff.”
“Stunted imbecile. Where is 87?”
“87? Oh, you mean Adrienne? Let me see…” Arun scanned the warehouse and spied Adrienne on the dance floor, grinding out some raunchy moves in front of an eager young buck with his shirt off.
“87 is engaged in an encounter with an Agri-worker.”
Springer stifled a laugh.
“I think,” said Arun. “Think she’s trying to go undercover to discover his secrets.”
Springer exploded into laughter, bringing Arun with her in fits of giggles.
“Give it here. Silly veck-ek-eks.” Arun looked up to see Madge standing over him with an open palm thrust in his face. She was bathed in sweat having just returned from an expedition to the dance floor herself, bringing back a gaggle of male admirers with her.
Arun handed over the comm.
“Corporal Majajazazaa here, ma’am.” Madge’s words were slurred worse than Springer’s. “Firefighting party will return to home to you–”
“Do so, immediately.”
“–as soon as conditions permit. Mazazeeta out.”
Madge cut off the sound of Hardit protest, took aim, and threw the device 10 meters into a pan of warm stew.
Madge was so drunk she could barely stand or talk. But she could dance and – it seemed – she could throw. The communicator landed dead center in the pan and disappeared to contribute its favors to the stew.
Springer whistled in admiration. “Your targeting skills are impressive, corporal.”
Arun was impressed too, but was relieved to see Madge return to the dance floor. Her hostility to him had reduced, but only by a hair’s breadth.
He pulled Springer closer to him. She fitted so perfectly, snuggled under his shoulder, as if they had been engineered to complement each other.
Basking in the warmth of her embrace, he took a gulp of beer and recorded onto his implants the sights and sounds of the party, from the clumps of strangers in conversation to the pounding beat from the ever-changing lineup of drummers. He tried to memorize the scents too, though he had no means of digitally recording them: the smell of fresh perspiration, freshly-baked bread, and sticky beer spills. He nuzzled Springer’s neck, drawing in her scent, the most precious of them all.
Then he settled into the simple pleasure of watching everyone else have fun.
Other than a few of the male Agri-Aux who had stripped to the waist to show off muscled torsos, everyone there was dressed alike in loose white underclothes. Arun looked from one happy human face to another, and whether they worked the tunnels and passageways of Detroit or the fields of Alabama he could not tell.
They were all of them human
And just for a little while longer. Being human was all that mattered.
—— Chapter 46 ——
It was Adrienne who eventually rounded up Team Beta and herded them back into the dung trucks for the trip back to Detroit. She even managed to bully them back into the Aux overalls they’d left behind in the cargo pod.
After a few hours of blissful cleanliness, persuading the drunken Aux to don their stinking rags took such impressive leadership that even Arun noticed.
She’s the one with the keenest eye on the future, he thought, but he kept his assessment to himself. Thoughts of what awaited them on their return pressed everyone into a somber silence as the trucks drove through the night.
Madge had driven them here but she was in no fit state now, so Adrienne took the wheel of one truck, with Springer driving the other. Arun kept Springer company in the cab while Madge slept with their passengers in their dung pod.
The drive back was bumpy and the track somehow seemed narrower because the drivers continually slipped down the bank, raising groans from their passengers.
Eventually they gave up and drove through the fields, paralleling the track.
At the topside vehicle park back at Detroit, they found a detachment of Marines waiting for them, accompanied by Sergeant Gupta, their guns leveled at the cabs of the dung trucks.
No one said a thing. There was no need. The Marines grabbed Arun, Springer and Madge and propelled them down the main ramp of Gate Three and down into the tunnels of Detroit.
“Take these,” said Gupta, handing them each a capsule.
Arun swallowed his and immediately felt a blinding flash of agony followed by terrifying clarity. All the comforting fuzziness brought on by the Agri-Aux beer vanished, to be replaced by a crystal clear understanding of just how utterly flekked they all were.
As they were marched down to the battalion administrative section on Level 4, they encountered cadets, novices, Marines, Aux and Hardits. The Hardits paid them no attention, the military humans gave them wary acknowledgment, but some of the Aux recognized them. There were tears in the eyes of some Aux onlookers, despair in their hearts.
That was the hardest thing for Arun to bear, that the hope he’d encouraged in the slave workers had unraveled so rapidly. Before the day was out, the whole of Detroit would know his fate.
To give false hope to the hopeless is the cruelest deed of all.
What have I done?
——
Gupta deposited them back where their Aux escapade had begun: at attention in front of Staff Sergeant Bryant’s desk.
He glowered, making them sweat for a long while before he spoke.
“I have a request from your Hardit hosts. No, not a request. It is a demand, barbed with the most hideous threats. Do you worms realize how dirty it makes me feel to be ordered about by those flea-bitten monkey-vecks? They demand your termination. I thought it advisable to have you escorted here directly upon your return. At least that way I’m spared the further indignity of our monkey colleagues implementing the termination of human cadets themselves.”
Arun fought against the temptation to slump. He succeeded in keeping himself absolutely still, not even breathing until the shock eased. Not that he’d expected anything different, but to hear the death sentence passed… it wasn’t easy.
Bryant watched with interest as Arun’s dismay played out over his face.
“Staff sergeant,” said Arun. “This cadet begs permission to speak.”
“Go ahead.” Bryant’s words were filled with subtle poison, as if inviting Arun into a trap.
“I found something out there I need to report.”
Madge gave a warning growl, deep in her throat, but that only steeled Arun to his purpose. He would tell about the drugs and the guns. It was a hell of a risk for everyone, but sometimes you had to take a chance. Arun didn’t expect to get another one.
Then Springer gave an identical growl, and Arun’s r
esolve melted away.
“Stop that at once,” boomed Bryant. He slammed the table and then shot to his feet, his muscular bulk towering over the cadets. “It’s bad enough that you stink like Hardits. To growl like them too is an insult to the Corps. Six days you’ve been away. Six fucking days, and you’ve already lost every shred of dignity.” He took his seat, his face still livid with contempt. “I pity you, Gupta, to have such sniveling cowards in your squad.”
Arun didn’t dare to glance over at Madge, but he knew dismay would be etched into her face. Being called a coward would have hurt her more than any Hardit shock torture. To have growled like that, she must be utterly convinced that they shouldn’t be talking about gun-running.
Bryant turned his stare onto Arun. “Continue.”
This was Arun’s big moment.
He took a deep breath… and then danced away from the truth. “I reckon my time has been up for a little while now, staff sergeant. Been dodging incoming drent so much it feels like I’ve cheated death a dozen times. What I mean is that it’s all my fault, not the other two.”
Bryant’s eyebrows shot up. Arun’s did too. The staff sergeant had sent them off to the Aux with a lesson about justice ringing in their ears. Arun added quickly: “I don’t mean it isn’t fair, staff sergeant. Justice and fairness are irrelevant. Please let me take all the blame and spare the others. That’s not justice, it’s efficiency because these other two have shown through their initiative that they could make good Marines one day. It would be a waste to throw them away now.”
“You’re wrong,” said Bryant. Arun had given the most impassioned speech of his life, and Bryant had instantly crushed it with two crisp words.
But then Arun noticed a twinkle in Bryant’s eye… the staff sergeant was laughing at him! “You’re wrong,” repeated Bryant, “because there is a place in the Corps for justice, even compassion. Though they are luxuries that are not often possible, we should never forget them or we will cease to be human.”
Arun’s heart beat faster.
“Nonetheless, request denied.”
Arun couldn’t keep it up any longer. He slumped, physically and mentally. This was the end.
“Unlike the Hardit request,” continued Bryant. “That we cannot refuse, whether we like it or not.” Why was he grinning? “They request termination and I agree. You three were sentenced to serve one week as Aux because your overactive sense of justice caused you to make grave errors of judgment. I believe you have learned your lesson. I am therefore terminating your Aux sabbatical with immediate effect. Report to the medical facility ASAP for anti-radiation treatment. You restart cadet training tomorrow.”
Arun couldn’t keep the smile from his face.
“We all turned a blind eye to your little adventures,” said Bryant, “but no more escapades that might draw the attention of our betters. On the other hand, if I were to fish through the communal laundry shelf one morning and my fingers happened upon a packet of biscuits hidden amongst the shirts, I might put that down to one of life’s little mysteries. I might. But don’t push it too far. Understood?”
“Yes, staff sergeant,” answered the cadets.
“This cadet begs permission to speak, staff sergeant,” requested Madge.
“Hell no. Of all your sorry little band you are the one who should keep your mouth most firmly shut, cadet corporal. As senior cadet, your task was to keep the other two out of mischief. You failed.”
It was Arun’s turn to ask. He wanted to ask permission to contact the Aux, to let them know they hadn’t been executed, to prevent their morale from shattering. Madge had probably been trying to ask the same thing. But as Arun’s mouth moved to speak, Bryant stopped him dead with a flinty glare.
Bryant’s face colored red. “You cadets have far too much to say for yourselves.” He pointed an accusing finger at Arun. “You most of all.”
Arun kept his eyes front as the staff sergeant’s scrutiny played over him. He hated that having lifted Aux morale it would be crushed by rumors of his death. But he was too scared of Bryant to even think of crossing him.
“You’re trouble, hero,” said Bryant. “And you other two are only one step behind him. If you study your military history you will learn that sometimes the awkward few win finely balanced battles with their different ways of seeing things. But this is a Marine Corps unit. I do not tolerate dissent. I can maybe afford to give a few nanometers of leeway to a handful of exceptional Marines, to pander to their unconventional thinking, because one day they might make the difference between victory and death. However…” Bryant’s face went as hard as poly-ceramalloy armor. “You are not exceptional! All I can see in front of me are three silly little teenagers. Nothing more. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, staff sergeant,” they all replied.
“I hope so because you’d better pray to whatever gods you hold dear that you are never brought before me again. Now get the hell out of my sight!”
The cadets gave a crisp salute, turned and marched away.
Fifty paces down the passageway they stopped, looked each other in the eye and whooped with delight.
Level 4 echoed with the sounds of gleeful high fives.
—— PART III ——
The
Prophecy
Human Legion
—— INFOPEDIA ——
Military Concepts
–Introduction to ships, boats & platforms
Marines will encounter a wide range of ship and boat types while on active service, as well as orbital platforms and other void-based facilities. The term ‘ship’ is widely use in a generic sense in the Human Legion Infopedia, but a stricter nomenclature differentiates between ships as vessels that have interstellar range, boats as vessels designed for maneuver but are not capable of interstellar travel, and platforms to mean space stations and other essentially static facilities.
Ship design has changed little since the development of the bacterium bomb about six thousand years ago. The ease with which this bomb — small enough to be carried by a Marine — could penetrate outer hulls made capital ships more vulnerable. This led to an emphasis on smaller vessels and on much greater numbers of Marines skirmishing in an attempt to disable enemy ships and to shield friendly vessels from the enemy’s Marines. Indeed it is probable that the very existence of the Human Marine Corps, and consequently the Human Legion, owes its existence to the bacterium bomb.
Battles between warships typically occur when an invading fleet contests a defending force for control of a star system. Ships will tow warboats to strike range in the outer system, and then leave the boats to take the fight to the enemy who will defend with a mix of boats, orbital defense platforms and many hidden defenses. Some ships have high maneuver and offensive capabilities and may accompany the warboats in an attack.
Although to a Marine the distinction between ship and boat may seem arbitrary and of little interest, this is not true of navy personnel. It is vital that you learn and employ the correct terminology for any vessel to which you have been assigned. Entire Marine complements have been executed for insulting their warboat captain by suggesting she or he commanded a ship. To warboat crew, ships are flown by plodders and cowards who wait in safety while the boats do the real fighting. To ship crew, boats are minor craft, mere passengers whose crew spend most their lives in cryogenic sleep while the ship navigates the deep void between the stars.
By whatever name they are known, the vessels to which human Marines are assigned tend to be less powerful models and toward the end of their active life, many craft already having seen millennia of service.
The ship type a Marine will be assigned to depends to some degree on the regimental specialism, although Marines train for all potential roles.
Assault Marine regiments are trained for assault against a defended planet. Assault regiments can be assigned to almost any ship type. In fact, the ship or boat is unimportant, being merely to tow self-contained Marine pods, which contain habita
tion, cryogenic, supplies, and dropboats for an approximately company-sized unit of marines to deploy in orbit and launch an assault. The Marine pods have limited maneuver and defensive capability and will detach from the parent vessel before attack.
Void Marine regiments are specialists in vacuum and zero-g warfare. A ship’s Marine complement will form a defensive screen and add offensive options against enemy ships.
Tactical Marine regiments are also trained in void combat, but are allied to a small tactical warboat to make a single combined operations unit. The most common warboat type is called a Tactical Unit (often shorted to ‘TU’), a roughly spherical craft that is agile and well-armed. A TU will typically have a Marine complement of two squads and be ferried into combat by a sleeve ship. The sleeve consists of a command and propulsion sections attached to a hollow tube. The TU boats — and other modules such as engineering and supply pods — are stacked within the tube during interstellar travel.
Another distinction between void and tactical Marines is that the former will egress their ship through an airlock, or through a hanger opening inside a small boat. A tactical Marine will typically egress through an EVA chute which uses amniotic gel to shield the marine from physical trauma while the TU jinks at high gees to avoid enemy fire.
— Some information on this topic has been excluded as you have insufficient access privileges —
—— Chapter 47 ——
Nestled within the pattern of brilliant jewels embedded in absolute black, the precious gleam from Earth’s star pulled at Arun across nearly 50 light years.
Sol was not far away, easily reached by transport ship, but no ship would ever take Arun there. Not even to one of Sol’s neighbors.
Throughout novice school, the instructors had rammed home that the Human Marine Corps was a joke in the eyes of other species: plasma fodder equipped with third-rate cast-offs and so stupid that they were sent off to die actually believing they were genuine warriors.
Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) Page 29
