Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) (26 page)

A couple more trips later and Arun’s sense of smell had been so violated that it finally shut down in protest.

He might not be able to smell his own stench any longer, but it became clear that other people could. They chanced across two novice boys skulking in the passageway outside at the end of a return trip back to the vats. The lads – Arun put them at about 14 – made a show of wrinkling their noses in disgust.

One of the boys placed himself in the middle of the tunnel, barring their way. “Apologize,” he ordered.

His friend joined him. “Yeah, say sorry for offending decent people with your Aux stink.”

Arun and Hortez halted their carts a short distance away from the roadblock.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Hortez. “Please let us pass.”

Arun looked in horror at his friend. Then he turned his attention to the boys. Could he pick up these novices and shove them into the vat of dung? Probably. He started thinking through the consequences.

“You!” The first boy pointed at Arun. “You have to apologize too.”

Arun scowled back.

“C’mon, man,” Hortez whispered to him. “We’ve got more to worry about than your stupid pride.”

“Sometimes it is only pride that keeps us fighting through adversity.”

“You can cut that Marine Corps drent out right away,” hissed Hortez. “That doesn’t apply to me anymore, or had you forgotten?”

“We’re waiting,” said the second boy. “Do we have to report you?”

“Do it for my sake,” Hortez insisted.

Arun clenched his jaw in fury. He was going to do it. He really was…

Gazing blankly into the middle distance he said vaguely: “I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough,” said the first boy.

“Yeah, like that would convince anyone,” said his friend. “Kneel down and kiss my boots. No, you stink too much. Kneel down five paces in front of me and… and lick the floor.” He laughed. So did his little veck of a friend.

That was too much! The stupid skangat was going headfirst into the collection vat and damn the consequences.

Arun had only taken one step toward the nearest boy when they were interrupted by the sound of laughter. Another two novices emerged from farther up the corridor, a boy and a girl, also about 14. When they saw what was happening, the laughter stopped. The new boy shook his head sadly and put his hands on his hips. “What do you think you’re up to, Rammy?”

The two bullies looked crestfallen as they glanced at each other, trying to work out how to play the situation. They withered under the disapproving glare of the other novices.

Arun was convinced he knew what he was seeing now. These kids had arranged to meet up for a little privacy. A double date during a gap between classes.

“Well?” demanded the girl. “Why are you causing trouble, Stephan? You know you’re already on a warning.”

“We’re punishing these Aux,” replied Stephan without conviction.

“They deserve it,” said the other boy, Rammy. “For olfactory offenses.” He couldn’t help laughing.

“It’s not funny,” said the unnamed boy. “Leave them alone. They can’t help being Aux.”

“Can’t they?” said Stephan. “I reckon they can. You’re not born an Aux. You become one because you’re a loser.” He addressed Hortez and Arun. “You are losers, aren’t you?”

Hortez answered without hesitation. “Yes, sir.”

“Why’re you a loser?” Rammy asked him. “What didja do?”

“No, don’t answer that,” the girl told Hortez.

“Why shouldn’t he, Ibri?” asked Rammy.

“Because I don’t want to hear any of the ways in which we could end up like them. Besides, you’re an utter skangat, Ramdas Tammaro. I expect Stephan put you up to this and you were too pussy to stand up to him. You’re better than this.”

“I don’t plan on being a loser,” said Ramdas. There was steel in his voice. Arun reckoned he’d already worked out that his date was a wash out.
Tough luck, you veck.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t expect those two did either,” said his date, “but look where they ended up all the same.”

“I still say they’re frakking losers,” said Ramdas.

His date glared back, daring him to retract.

Then the other boy upped the stakes. “Apologize to those poor guys,” he demanded.

Arun glanced at Hortez. His friend was wearing a glazed expression as if he weren’t entirely there. Arun was beginning to see how that worked. Here was an argument going on right in front of their faces. On the surface, at least, the argument was about the two Aux, but the truth was that they weren’t really part of the exchange. As Aux, they were expected to wait there in silence until their betters permitted them to go about their business.

Only yesterday, if he’d come here wearing his cadet’s fatigues, the novices would have stepped politely aside out of his way. Well, he decided, he was still the same person as the day before. And so he spoke up.

“There’s no harm done,” Arun said. “Let us go on our way.”

“Stay where you are,” ordered the girl. She redirected her glare at Arun, if anything, intensifying it. “You’re not going anywhere until these two idiots say sorry.”

Eventually, after much sighing and rolling of eyes, Stephan and Ramdas made grunting sounds that their dates decided to interpret as apologies. Hortez and Arun were allowed to get back to the collection vat.

They didn’t speak for a long time, the only sound the squeak of the dung cart wheels and the slurp and plop of shoveling slurry.

“At first I didn’t know what was worse,” said Hortez eventually, “the novices who try to grind our face in the dirt, or the ones who pity us. Now? There’s no contest. The ones who pity us sometimes throw us scraps to eat. I gulp down every morsel and thank them with every mouthful.”

Arun couldn’t think of a reply. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t special. It was only the hope that they would let him back into the hab-disks in a few days that separated Arun from Hortez. If he had to stay here forever, he had no doubt he would soon be begging for scraps himself.

And worst of all, it had been him who had gotten Hortez kicked out of the battalion in the first place.

He wracked his mind, trying to think of a way to help out his old friend, hoping his subconscious had worked its planning magic.

But he couldn’t. Hortez’s plight was hopeless.

The only question was whether Arun and the girls would be joining him.

That evening, Arun, Springer and Madge joined the roll call of 52 Aux workers, lined up in the back row. They were short one worker, Number 47 having gone off to the kitchen to fetch the evening meal.

Instead of Tawfiq, another Hardit took the roll call. From the faded blue dye in her mane, Arun identified her as Hen Beddes-Stolarz. Hortez had explained before Hen came in that she was as bored by dealing with the human workers as Tawfiq was thirsty for cruelty.

No words were spoken. The Hardit simply stood in front of the lineup, sniffing the scent markers smeared onto the breasts of the humans, and glancing from time to time at the softscreen she was holding.

All of them, Hen included, waited in silence for Number 47, who eventually returned wheeling a catering trolley bearing two metal buckets. One contained stale bread, the other held scraps left behind by the novices from their evening meal.

It wasn’t much for 53 people. It wouldn’t even feed 10.

Springer cleared her throat. “Mistress, I beg permission to speak.”

Hen flicked her ears. Whether that meant interest or anger was something Arun had yet to learn. But when the Hardit walked over to Springer and gave her a sniff, she said in her artificial voice of a human male: “114. A new one. Yes, human, you may speak.”

“Forgive my ignorance,” said Springer, “but that food is insufficient nutrition for 50 humans, and by adding our mouths to your team, it is even less adequate. I can see that the workers of Auxiliary Team Beta are malnourished. May we please have more food rations so that we may work harder for you?”

Hen closed her eyes but said nothing.

What was Springer playing at?
They’d agreed not to wind up the Hardits, to get out of here in one piece. Arun couldn’t help admiring Springer, though, even if she was one stupid shunter.

If Tawfiq had been here, Arun had no doubt that she would have activated the pain function in Springer’s suit. But Hen Beddes-Stolarz was different. She opened her eyes and waved her ears from side to side in a motion Hortez had told him indicated pleasure.

“You ask a valid question,” Hen replied through her voice box, the artificial voice sounding so reasonable. “You argue that we overseers provide ineffective care for our work team. Your reasoning is not at fault, but your error is to start with the assumption that Work Team Beta consists of 53 individuals.”

“Mistress, I do not understand.”

“That is obvious, 114. Obvious and to be expected. It is your ignorance and stupidity that makes humans inferior. Team Beta’s workforce consists of 22 humans. And yet I see 53 bodies when I include you new ones. What we have here is not an insufficient supply of food but an
over
-supply of workers. No, that is not quite right.
You
are suffering from oversupply. Team Beta has work for 22 individuals. We have accommodation and food for 22. The law of supply and demand is universal. Demand is fixed and so eventually supply must reduce to match demand.”

“We don’t even have food for 22, mistress,” said 47 angrily. “Five thugs from Team Gamma – Cliffie’s team – were waiting for me on the way back from the kitchens. They stole four of our food buckets.”

“Excellent.” Hen wiggled her ears. “Number 47 adds a well-timed additional dimension to this matter. We prefer our work teams to have the strongest individuals. Transferring workers between teams is simple. If you want the food back then prove you are strong enough to deserve it. Steal it back.”

Springer didn’t hesitate. “Team Beta!” she yelled. “Who’s with me?”

To hear such fire in a human belly sent a jolt of surprise shooting through the Aux.

Arun and Madge were by Springer’s side in an instant. Hortez hesitated for a moment before joining them.

A flicker of fire lit up the eyes of the other Aux.

“Don’t forget, they’ll be gone in a week,” sneered Number 87 – the worker who’d stolen their clothes.

Her words snuffed out the Aux spirit, making them turn their heads and look away.

Hortez whispered into Springer’s ear. “You’re insane. And I don’t mean that in a good way.”

Madge ignored him and led the little team out of the room.

The Hardit made no move to stop them. Instead, she called out: “I do so love the spectacle of you humans fighting over scraps of food like flea-ridden, starving animals. Which, of course, is all you are.”

The humans marched proudly away until they were out of sight. Then Madge halted.

“First question,” she said. “Who the frakk is Cliffie?”

Arun took point as they stormed into Team Gamma’s room. They identified Cliffie immediately. He was fat and clean shaven, the opposite of the males in Team Beta. Their room had the same discarded human clothing, except here the collection was much larger and had been neatly arranged into a crude staircase leading up to a seat. A throne, Arun realized, of tight rolls of clothing bound together by loose fabric strips.

Sitting on his throne was Cliffie.

The Gamma Aux were enjoying their meal. Arun counted eight buckets of food and 35 Aux. Team Beta outnumbered the bullies. It should be them dominating the smaller group, not the other way around!

Arun charged up the textile steps toward Cliffie. Before he reached the throne, Gamma proved their worth, dropping their meals to crowd the invaders. The four Aux who had been eating at Cliffie’s feet now formed a protective wall between Arun’s group and their leader.

So Cliffie had guards, and his team had discipline and full bellies. None of that was enough to stop Arun feeling this was ridiculous. The enemy was defending the crest of an artificial ridge constructed from dirty shirts and underwear. Insane! But Arun didn’t doubt the look in their eyes that said they would defend this position to the death.

Madge had discussed tactics before they moved in. Success, they’d agreed, depended on speed. It was essential they overpowered Cliffie before his team could react.

This wasn’t going well.

From the perspective of a full Marine, or even a cadet, the Aux were all failures for one reason or another. But as Arun felt the gaze of angry eyes pierce his body, he was well aware that everyone here was at least partially combat trained.

“We have guests,” Cliffie said. He gestured at the crowd to back away. “Give them a little space to speak their piece.”

Arun halted halfway up the steps, just outside of punching range of the guards. It had been Madge’s idea for him to take the lead, to brutally pummel Cliffie into submission. She argued that one primal male brute ousting another would make the message clear in this primitive world. But the assumptions of macho brutishness crumbled in the face of reality. Three of Cliffie’s guards were women, and Cliffie himself was clean and groomed, his voice soft and playful.

“Please,” said Cliffie to Arun. “Speak.”

Arun snarled his reply: “You took food that belonged to Team Beta.”

“Yes.” There was no malice in Cliffie’s voice. He spoke as if explaining a simple truth to a child. “Did you come to inform me of this,” he added while Arun was still thinking of a reply, “or did you want to ask me something?”

“Give us our food.”

Cliffie tutted. “This is a grim place, to be sure, but there is no need to coarsen it with rudeness. Do I hear a please?”

“Are you mad? No, you don’t get to
hear a please
. Politeness went out the door when you stole what wasn’t yours.”

Cliffie scratched his chin, making a play of chewing over Arun’s words. “I’ve heard of you. Here on a forced vacation after making some ill-advised threats. Threats you did not follow up properly. But…” He stretched out his arms in a welcoming gesture. “There is no need for unpleasantness. Let me educate you. You speak of
stealing
. That is a legal term. The rule of law is very strong in the Auxiliary camps, my new friends, and our law is called
Natural Law
. Our law says that the strong must take from the weak. Team Gamma is stronger than Team Beta, and that gives us the right to take your food. There is no crime committed here. Permit me, if you will, a demonstration.”