Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) (11 page)

“I want a chat with you.”

With a wave of the rubbery tubes that passed for fingers, the colonel beckoned Arun to stand next to him at his workstation.

As he mounted the steps to approach the Jotun, Arun tried to guess what the alien was about to tell him. He had no idea.

Once Arun was standing next to the alien’s chair, and had cast his gaze to the ground, Little Scar asked using his own awkward voice: “Would you like to see your brother?”

Not ‘you will be executed at dawn’ or ‘you will be permanently assigned to the punishment battalion’.

Arun was so stunned that he let his pause drag on until Little Scar drew his ears back in annoyance.

“Sir. Yes, sir,” Arun said quickly.

Little Scar smiled. There was little about the six–legged Jotuns that was human-like, but when they wanted to, Jotuns could smile just like the most endearing human child. And at that moment, the commander of the 412th Marines chose to smile.

“He is not here,” said the Jotun, back to speaking through his artificial voice.

Inter-species familiarity sessions with the Jotuns often went this way. The exchanges mixed boredom on the part of the Jotuns with the terror of the young humans, blending them into an uncomfortable mutual incomprehension.

The worst part was that if you didn’t understand, you were expected to ask.

And find a way to do so without having your face sliced off for insulting a superior.

Arun swallowed hard and then cleared his throat, trying to remember whether doing so meant a polite interruption or an insolent invitation to be decapitated. “Sir, I beg permission to ask a question. Sir.”

“Speak.”

“Why did you ask whether I wanted to see my brother?”

The Jotun narrowed his eyes and stared at Arun, who flinched under this intense scrutiny. “Your incident in the tunnels. I was concerned it might affect your morale.”

What?
“Sir, that’s… very touching, sir.”

Arun cringed at his familiarity but the alien looked more puzzled than angry.

“Touching?” Little scar digested the word. “Ah. You mean you are overwhelmed by my emotional succor. Is that correct?”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

“Hah hah hah!” The voice simulator was stumped by human laughter. You couldn’t tell whether the laughter was hearty, ironic, or uncertain. “You are right to think I care about your wellbeing, Cadet McEwan.”

Arun couldn’t quite believe what was happening. The commander of the regiment was talking to him like an indulgent uncle. Whenever he had spoken to Jotuns before, they had always assumed an attitude that humans were indistinguishable from each other. Little Scar was talking not only as if Arun were an individual sentient being, but an important one too. One that the regimental commander wanted to know better.

What the frakk was happening?

“I care about you…” said Little Scar, before pausing.

“Sir?”

“I care because the Night Hummers say you will be important.”

Arun shivered. Floating in their tanks of churning yellow liquid, deep in the bowels of the base, the Night Hummers were bloated gas-sacs, prized for their pre–cognitive ability. Arun struggled to believe that anyone could actually see into the future – though he tried hard to keep an open mind about Springer’s ability. Given the fuss the Jotuns made about them on behalf of their masters, the White Knights surely believed that Night Hummers could.

“I don’t know why you are special,” said the Jotun. “They won’t say. Or can’t.” Little Scar flicked his ears back and bared his teeth, serrated little gray daggers that gleamed in the light from the artificial sky. “Perhaps you will betray us all.”

Arun stood rigidly under the lashes of the Jotun’s harsh stare.

“Only one other human has ever aroused the Night Hummers’ interest. Strange how after several hundred years in which they never saw fit to even mention your species, here you are, both in my regiment at the same time.”

Who was the other?
Arun burned with the question but he didn’t dare speak. It took all his courage to even breathe under the Jotun’s withering gaze.

“And maybe a third human of interest is due to arrive in the system soon. Or… maybe not.”

Little Scar moved his ears in circles, each rotating in a different direction. His training told Arun this indicated indecision, deep thought, or a sign of abdominal discomfort.

“Learn this, human. Night Hummers hint at their predictions. Forever they tell us: ‘Act now to avert this disaster that will happen… or maybe it will not.’ ” He growled. “It is not a question of – what is your expression? –
hedging bets
. It is simply how the Hummers perceive the future – and sometimes the present. They allude, imply, and prattle. A collective of Hummers can be noisy, utterly tiresome. It is only by having a troop of Hummers, and keeping them under constant surveillance and analysis by AIs, that we ever realize when there is a temporary consistency to the Hummers’ ramblings. Sometimes the pattern dissipates like mist and wind. Occasionally their minds march in lockstep and they all tell the same story, repeating their words over and over. We know then that they want us to listen.”

Arun shivered as his pictured the Hummers in their yellow tanks, screaming Arun’s name in unison.

“Human, your posture indicates inquiry. Did you want to ask questions?”

“Sir. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“You may ask only one more.”

“Sir. Who are the other humans the Night Hummers spoke of?”

Little Scar thought over the answer. “The one who maybe is to come and maybe is a misinterpretation has only the simplest description. No name, rank, scent, or title. All we know is that she is purple.” He laughed, the artificial sound accompanied by a bass rumble from the alien. “Purple!”

Little Scar found the whole idea hilarious but Arun felt something else flooding him with sparkling warmth: hope.

Instructor Nhlappo had described the entire Marine Corps presence on Tranquility as nothing more than a rounding error on a White Knight fleet strength report. What if humans were important after all? And not in the mega long-term species survival plan some veterans talked of – but right here and now.

And
, thought Arun,
Little Scar had referred to the purple human as a she…

The laughter coming through Little Scar’s speaker continued as he spoke. “I have seen pink and brown humans. Hrmph. Seen a few red ones too in battle – your species does bleed so energetically – but never a
purple
one.”

Little Scar cut the laughter. “Now we discuss your brother.” He brought out a mid-limb from where it had nestled in his deep chest hair, and pointed it up to the sky. “He’s out there.”

“Sir? You mean he’s out there in the galaxy?”

“Yes. No.” Little Scar thought it over. “He is in orbit. A lucky coincidence. I could let you meet if you would like.”

“Sir. I would like that, sir.”

Having written off the idea of family long ago, to meet a brother would be a curiosity. But it would also be fascinating to meet someone who had been out there, fighting between the stars.

“You would like,” said Little Scar. “I would
not
like. But I may enable this in any case.”

O-kay
. That didn’t exactly make sense. When Little Scar made no sign that he was going to elaborate, Arun asked: “Sir, is there something I must do first?”

“Yes. The insect scribe in your tunnel encounter showed sexual interest in you…”

“Not really, sir,” Arun blurted out. When the officer didn’t react to his interruption, he added: “Sir. The creature was academically interested in my unfortunate physiological reaction to the combat drugs. That’s all, sir.”

Little Scar showed his teeth again. He was not happy.

“Sir. Sorry, sir,” Arun added quickly.

The Jotun allowed Arun’s discomfort to continue for a few more seconds before slowly lowering his lips over his fangs. “Only speak when spoken to, human.”

Was Arun supposed to acknowledge that? He decided to keep silent.

Little Scar sniffed at Arun, but then relaxed somewhat. “McEwan, you might dismiss your accomplishment, but such a display of sexual interest is unprecedented. These
Trogs
, as you call the hive creatures, run several mining operations here on Tranquility and on moons around the outer planets. They also service the cryogenic facilities, dig the network of defensive warrens, and form the bulk of the planetary defense force. The hive creatures are vital, yet we know very little about them. We need to aid each other to strengthen our defenses and add new contingency plans.”

The first question that instantly struck Arun was why had they felt the need to strengthen their defenses. To ask, though, would be madness. He reckoned he had pushed his freakish familiarity with the colonel as far as it would go.

But Arun wasn’t renowned for common sense.

“Sir. Permission to speak, sir?”

“There. Politeness was not so difficult, was it?”

A buried memory surfaced. The Jotun colonel sounded like his mom. He shook the thought away. “No, sir. Why are we needing to–?”

Little Scar hissed a warning. Arun had never heard that sound before. It sounded like human flatulence, but it came through the Jotun’s teeth.

“I did not offer permission to speak, human. I merely commended politeness. Yes. We need to work more with the hive people. You have this connection with them. Therefore I want you to be our liaison.”

Arun blinked repeatedly so that his emotions wouldn’t show. His heart fluttered at the memory of the scribe’s red flanks puckering…

“You may speak now,” said Little Scar.

“
Liaison
. What does that mean, sir? What must I do?”

“Liaison means you will represent the interests of all humans and Jotuns in our dealings with the insect hives on the planet of Tranquility. Learn from them. Learn about them.”

“Sir. But what are you expecting me to do?”
Surely he didn’t mean…

Little Scar hissed through his teeth – more a cross between heavy breathing and sighing than the flatulent growl of real anger. Arun interpreted this as irritation.

“Are you a child?” asked the Jotun.

“Sir. I’m 17,” Arun replied. “No, sir, I’m not.”

“Then you decide what liaison entails. I care nothing for means, only ends. Your first encounter is set for tomorrow.” He paused. “Your honor is tarnished, Cadet McEwan. Combat drugs had taken control of your body. I understand. That is why I permit you to live. But the stink of failure hangs around you, makes me want to retch. How sweet it would be if you could take the cause of your dishonor, and transform it into a sweet-smelling triumph that will be celebrated for centuries.”

“Sir. I understand, sir.”

“Good. Understand this too. If you fail then I shall execute you personally. Dismissed.”

MESSAGE SUBJECT: Table of Organization & Equipment. Blue Squad, ‘C’ Company, 8th battalion, 412th Tactical Marine Regiment.

Additional instructions from Squad Leader, Sgt. Gupta:

Attention, Blue Squad.

Memorize the contents of this TOE. It sets out our initial structure, effective immediately. This includes semi-permanent NCO ranks.

‘Semi’ means that if you screw up, or if you don’t look at me in a way I care for, you get demoted.

‘Permanent’ means you lower-ranked cadets had better get used to addressing your seniors by their new rank.

To cadets newly assigned non-commissioned ranks: do not let your heads bloat! If any cadet NCO affords even the most junior full Marine with any less respect than that due a god, don’t expect sympathy from me when I have to scrape up your pulped remains off the deck. Since graduating from novice school, you have risen in status within the Corps family. To a Marine, that now raises you to about the same level as pond scum.

We have yet to meet. Even the most dimwitted among you will therefore realize that I have set out this TOE mostly on the advice of your instructors. Those of you who impress me sufficiently to still hold NCO positions in six months’ time will be sent to NCO training camp. There you will begin to understand that NCOs earn their privileges a hundred times over.

I understand that not all of you want to be a leader.

Tough shit.

Notwithstanding the ranks I am assigning today, you will all take turns to train in every role, including specialist, leadership, and those technical roles where your incompetence isn’t likely to blow us all to hell. You are all of you only a few casualties away from being squad leader.

Sgt. S. GUPTA, 412th Marines.

Table of Organization & Equipment

==Blue Squad== [Sergeant Gupta]

Current strength: 1 Marine, 28 cadets

Command Section [Sgt. Gupta]

Sergeant Suresh Gupta

Cadet LSgt. - Edward Brandt [responsibility: ammo logistics]

Cadet LCpl. Puja Narciso [chief medic & casualty evac]

Cadet Christanne Cusato

Cadet Stok Laskosk [specialist: missile launcher]

Cadet Vilok Altstein [specialist: Fermi cannon]

Alpha Section [Cdt. Cpl. Hecht]

~~Fire Team Blue1~~

Cadet Cpl. Menes Hecht

Cadet Laban Caccamo

Cadet Giorgio Yakubov

Cadet Marcus Ballantyne

~~Fire Team Blue2~~

Cadet LCpl. Rozalia Naron

Cadet Kamaria Cimini

Cadet Rahul Bojin

Cadet Fadl Vallario

Beta Section [Cdt. Cpl. Khurana]

~~Fire Team Blue3~~

Cadet Cpl. Uma Khurana

Cadet Cheikh Okoro

Cadet Martin Sandhu

Cadet Johannes Binning

~~Fire Team Blue4~~

Cadet LCpl. Mbizi Sesay

Cadet Norah Lewark

Cadet Bernard Exelmans

Cadet Adeline Feria

Delta Section [Cdt. Cpl. Majanita]

~~Fire Team Blue5~~

Cadet Cpl. Estella Majanita

Cadet Osman Koraltan