Human Legion: Marine Cadet Part 38

The newcomer continued. "Name's Umarov. I'm Blue-6's replacement for the guy who got himself promoted out into command section."

"Arun," said Springer, "Umarov is a veteran."

Umarov snorted. "Hardly. A few days after making Marine, they shoved me into the ice store. According to my body clock's reckoning, I was iced only yesterday. You could say I've been a Marine for five days, or ninety years, depending on how you count it. Either way, you lizards are still cadets, which means I outrank all of you. For now. That's why inspection is canceled permanently. Sergeant Gupta says it's a waste of his valuable time to schedule nursemaiding you like kids, now that I'm here. If you fall out of line, he'll kick my b.u.t.t into the next star system. Simple. I like him."

None of the other cadets disputed this. Zug gave a tiny shrug. It was all true, then.

Arun saluted. "Congratulations, Marine. Days or decades makes no difference. Graduation is a proud achievement."

A frown came over Umarov. He hesitated, chewing over his next move. "You have no idea how much has changed. But this gung-ho att.i.tude is worst of all. The others told me you don't fit in, McEwan, but you're just like the rest of them, acting as if you're proud to be in the Marines. Do you really believe it is an honor to serve in the Corps family?"

"Of course, Marine Umarov."

"No, don't call me that. And don't even think of calling me sir. That's for instructors and officers collaborators and murderers, mostly. You call me by the rank I earned. Carabinier. It's the basic rank - was - and it's called that because our primary weapon is the SA-71 carbine. It's a t.i.tle that makes sense, unlike your c.r.a.p. I mean... he glanced at Madge... corporal. And - he gestured at Del-Marie - Lance corporal. Where the h.e.l.l did those names come from? And lance! In the name of Horden's Hairy Hindquarters what is a fragging lance? Can any of you filthy skangats tell me that?"

No one answered.

"Didn't think so. Morons and lizards, the lot of you. Seems like while I was on ice they discovered the off switch for the human brain. So long as I'm still your superior, you will address me as Carabinier. Understand?"

"Yes, Carabinier," said Arun.

"As I was saying, we obeyed orders because my generation was too cowardly to face the consequences of disobedience. To be born in a Marine farm was to be sentenced to a h.e.l.lish servitude. Are you not slaves?"

"Wait," said Madge. "You were raised on the farms? You grew wheat and barley and all that drent?"

Umarov's eyes narrowed. "It's been nine decades since I walked these pa.s.sageways. I expected a few words to change. I didn't expect you to butcher the entire English language."

"With respect, Carabinier," said Madge, "we speak Human, not English."

"Jeez." He grimaced. "This is a prime slice of awkwardness. You'll be my NCO sooner than you expect, but for a little while you're just a spotty little kid who doesn't know s.h.i.+t. Let me tell you for a fact, you're speaking English. Badly. If you don't know that, it's because of the Jotuns' eternal messing with our heads. They probably want to stamp out any sense of loyalty to the various groupings of old Earth. They didn't bother in my day. All we knew of Earth were fairy tales so corrupted in the retelling that they no longer made any sense. To us, English was just the name of a language. I'm guessing it means something more, now that you can read the history books."

"Carabinier," interrupted Del-Marie, but Umarov cut him dead with a cut of his hand.

"No, Sandure. Don't tell me your history lessons. I don't want to know. Not tonight."

"I wasn't. I was going to warn you. Your words could be considered... verging on disloyal."

"Good for you, kid. You might be a lizard, but at least lizards have backbone. The rest of you sorry lot are just worms."

Del-Marie brightened under the praise.

"But you score zero for intelligence." Arun nearly laughed at the look of disappointment on Del-Marie's face. "In my day the regime was so tough you had to think carefully before taking each breath. You could even be punished if you didn't go to sleep lying in your bed according to regulations; on your back, dead center, head pointing up with arms by your side palms down. For those of us who survived that c.r.a.p, they loosened up a few months before graduation. They gave you back a little of your humanity to make you a better soldier, just in time for you to use it on the front line. It's obvious that hasn't changed."

"But, Carabinier," said Madge. "We aren't nearing graduation. Your words could be dangerous for us to hear."

Umarov shrugged. "Another fair point, but still wrong. I'm not the only one to get thawed out. I just got the short straw and ended up with you freaks. There's whole companies of my cla.s.s forming up. Don't you get it? They're calling up the reserves. I don't think you gotta worry about being years off graduation.

"Anyway. c.r.a.p! Give a guy a chance to think, why don't you? I only started thawing out this morning. Brain's still running on anti-freeze. Keeps getting distracted. Farms. Did I plow fields of dirt or something? No, I did not! I was raised on a Marine farm. They tell me this place is called Detroit now. Before that it was Alpha Base. Can't have been that very long 'cos in my day this stinking hole was called Marine Farm #3 and I was crop 167. If you come from the persuasion that the simplest explanation is the one that's most likely to let you survive one more day, then you'd interpret that as meaning we'd been farmed for 166 years before my crop. Me? I'm cursed by a sprinkling of intelligence. Enough to see this world of lies for what it is, but not clever enough to do squat about it." He looked across all the cadets in the room before sniffing with disdain. "So they've prettied the words and now you love the Marine Corps. I hope there's more to this change than bulls.h.i.+t because from where I'm sitting, you look a right bunch of prize chumps."

Confused looks pa.s.sed between the cadets.

"Chumps! Shees.h.!.+ I mean you're idiots. Fools. You've all got a vacancy between your ears. They've gilded your cage and suddenly the Human Marine Corps isn't your sentence, it's your proud family! Jeez!"

"I don't think so, Carabinier," said Zug, trying to put deference into his voice.

Umarov nodded at him to go on.

"I am sure you are correct that our officers have realized that fear and brutality are neither the best ways to instill fighting spirit, nor to train Marines who act intelligently. But I believe there is more to it than that. Our veterans and instructors give us such different explanations about our place in the galaxy. I guess it depends on when they were raised and where they have been stationed. But I do see a pattern. The more recently they have fought, the more likely they are to believe that we are fighting for a worthwhile cause. We fight for Earth's dignity. For humanity's right to be taken seriously by a hostile galaxy that regards us as the ultimate undercla.s.s. And it isn't just the fighting. If I were called on to carry out the Cull on my comrades, I would do so without complaint because that is just as much a part of fighting for our dignity as rus.h.i.+ng an enemy strong point."

Umarov shook his head. "Just nine decades ago, we were farmed. I like to think we were a more specialist crop than wheat, for instance, but still a crop to be grown, harvested and s.h.i.+pped out to meet demand. Does a blade of wheat have dignity? Eh? Even if it did, would it make a blind bit of difference to its fate?"

Del-Marie gave his most expressive Gallic shrug. "Perhaps, Carabinier, the truth does not matter. If we act as if we have a purpose, if we pretend that we have dignity, then our lives as soldier-slaves are more bearable. Perhaps we are living a lie, perhaps we are... chumps, but surely that is better than the truth if that truth is unbearably h.e.l.lish?"

Umarov closed his eyes. "You're no longer human, are you? I mean, you're probably right, Sandure, but G.o.d help me, you've moved on and left humanity behind. You're all built like the back end of a destroyer, and other than you, Sandure, with your silly shrug, there's barely a hint of expression on any of you except..."

Umarov pointed at Arun. Except that one. He thinks too deeply. And she..." He pointed at Springer. "She cares too much. Thinks she's the great Earth Mother. And the rest of you? It's like they cloned the most unimaginative drones of my generation, fed them super growth hormone, and have been interbreeding them ever since. What's wrong with you? We're in our dorm! h.e.l.lo? It's where you let off steam? I expect a little stupid banter, the stronger reminding the weaker ones who's in charge, and I expect grumbling. A lot of grumbling. Soldiers should always grumble. It's one of the basic laws of the universe."

"Les grognards, Carabinier," said Zug.

"Laygronyards? That's the modern word for grumbling is it? What kind of dumba.s.s word is that? One you never use, I'll bet, because you're all like machines on standby mode, waiting to be fully activated in the morning." He shook his head. "Laygronyards? s.h.i.+t! You fragging scare me more than the Jotuns."

What was Zug playing at? He'd talked of these grognards before. It was a French word - meaning grumblers - that had been the nickname for a corps of elite French soldiers. Arun liked the name, though. It sounded very human.

Umarov grabbed a softscreen and started to figure out the controls. The rest of the room remained silent and motionless.

"What? Oh, for crying out loud," groaned Umarov. "You're dismissed. Go do whatever robots do in their free time. Just leave me the h.e.l.l alone."

Arun considered helping the Carabinier struggling with his softscreen, but decided to wait a while. He grinned. Like him, Umarov was an outsider, and one who saw immediately that there was something screwy about the att.i.tude of the cadets.

Arun thanked Fate for bringing him a natural ally. Change was in the air, and that meant the next time he left his Scendence training, he might have something worth coming home to.

* Chapter 54 *

Striding along the curved corridor of sector F7 on his way to the shower tunnel, Arun grinned when he thought back to how Umarov's arrival last night had shaken up the frigid atmosphere in his dorm.

Ever since that stupid tunnel exercise, his life had gone from drent to drenter. Zug and the guys could go vulley themselves for thinking Arun had brought it all on himself. So what if all their cold-shoulder drent was due to them being drugged? That wasn't a good enough excuse.

Arun had made his choices but he stood up for them. Why shouldn't he? He wasn't a loser. It was just the universe trying to make him look bad by conspiring to trip him up all the time.

Well, nuts to the universe too, because he was feeling good right now. It was 06:42 and he'd just finished his solo morning workout: three circuits of Ring 7 the second-longest ring in the hab-disk followed by a half hour pus.h.i.+ng and pulling against resistance channels in the gym.

Even being an engineered freak, courtesy of centuries of White Knight tinkering, had its plus points. Did the humans on Earth feel such a flare of unquenchable energy first thing in the morning? From what he'd heard, they mostly fell reluctantly out of bed in a semi-torpor that would hold them for hours. Whereas, thanks to his augmented body, Arun felt not just that he could climb a mountain before breakfast, but that he needed to, or else his body would explode from all the pent up energy inside his muscles.

He walked into the F7 shower room, giving a vague wave of greeting to the other cadets stripping off on their way in, or on their way out, putting on fresh underwear and fatigues from the bins provided by the Aux.

Arun had his s.h.i.+rt off and was about to tug down his gym pants when he saw Zug and Osman up ahead, naked and about to enter the shower tunnel. When they spotted Arun, they glanced at each other and then grabbed gym pants from the bin and put them on.

"What's up?" asked Arun. He spoke carefully, not wis.h.i.+ng to antagonize them.

Zug and Osman faced off against him.

Osman folded his arms. "You'll have to wait," he said. "Springer's in there."

Arun shrugged. "So?"

"So you wait till she's dressed. The tactical order chart says you're a member of our squad, but you aren't part of our team. You'll need to give our women their privacy."

"Your women? You're crazy, Osman. What, you think you own Springer? That she's stripping off for your pleasure? She's just getting clean, man. Stop being such a... chump."

"Yeah, I'm with Bryant's blue-eyed boy," said a voice from behind: Lance Corporal Yos.h.i.+oka from Gold Squad. She threw her gym clothes in the bin. "I don't care about your lovers' tiff. Stupid Blue Squad guffoons. I do care about whether I stink. Get out the frakking way!"

Osman stepped aside.

Yos.h.i.+oka strode into the shower tunnel, giving Osman a shove for good measure on her way in. She still blamed Blue Squad for letting the combat bots shoot her from behind in that frakked-up boarding exercise on Fort Douaumont.

Arun dove for the gap she had opened between Zug and Osman, but they were waiting for him. Osman pushed him back so sharply that Arun slipped on the wet floor and fell onto his backside.

"It would be best for you," said Zug, "that you make an effort to be polite, whether or not you believe our request for privacy is justified."

Arun felt the anger boil over inside him. Anger directed at Zug. It was Osman who'd pushed him, but Osman had always lived life to binary extremes. You were his mortal enemy or greatest friend, sometimes both on the same day. Back before he became a cadet, any unresolved disagreements would torment Osman such that he couldn't sleep, but the next day, Osman would shrug and forget whatever had troubled him so badly the day before That was what made Osman such fun to be around, or used to. It also made him the exact opposite of Zug. Calm, considered, consistent, it was Zug's disapproval that had really turned the squad against Arun.

He couldn't get his revenge on Zug here. But he would. Oh, yes. Zug - Zhoog as he insisted it was p.r.o.nounced - would get his just deserts soon enough. But for now...

"Fine," said Arun, still sitting on his b.u.t.t. "I'll wait."

"Make sure you do," said Osman, his anger burning so hot that he could barely speak.

Osman and Zug threw their clothes in the bin and followed Yos.h.i.+oka into the shower tunnel. Arun hovered just outside, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as a steady stream of cadets entered the shower room, or emerged naked at the other end.

The F7 shower room wasn't reserved for Blue and Gold Squads, but it was nearest to their dorm rooms, and so Arun knew most of the cadets coming into the room and giving him some hard stares.

No one said anything. They didn't have to. He was acting like some kind of deviant, lurking in the shower to steal glimpses of nude flesh.

Arun shut his eyes and clenched his fists. How had it come to this? Only moments ago he'd been buzzing.

Now Zug and Osman had ruined his morning.

Skangat lizards!

Arun stripped off and walked into the shower tunnel.

As he lifted his arms to accept the spray of foaming detergent, Arun felt eyes watching him warily. One of the girls from Gold Squad turned her back on him.

This was getting ridiculous.

Arun yelled through the spattering noise of the shower jets. "Hey! Hey, Zug!"

The big guy turned around.

"This is all your fault, man."

"No, my friend," said Zug. "It is your own doing."

"I'm not your friend."

"Yes, you are."

"You're wrong. And I'll tell you one thing, Zug the Perfect Zug the Frakking Aloof. You'll know what it feels like one day. Maybe right now the universe is stacking the deck to deal you a frakked-up hand. Sooner or later you'll have a run of bad luck"

"I am certain you are right. One day."

"One day? Nuts to that. I don't want bad luck to happen to you one day. I want it now. Do you hear, Zug? I hope today is the worst frakking day of your life."

But the cadet who still called himself Arun's friend had already turned away and was lost behind the steam and spray of water.

Arun was on his own.

On his way back to the dorm room, someone leaped out of a side pa.s.sageway and grabbed him by the shoulders.

Arun was about to deck his a.s.sailant when he recognized something in that touch. That scent.

He turned and stared wide-eyed into Springer's face.

Her eyes glowed violet with emotion.

Well, Arun was emotional too. He was furious at Zug and disappointed at Osman. But his anger was all jumbled up with regret and loneliness, and he'd never been angry with Springer. Everything inside churned into such a confused mess that his jaw moved up and down but he didn't know what to say.

He didn't think he needed to. Springer looked into his face and seemed to understand what he was feeling better than Arun did himself.

"Help me?" he whispered.

"I heard what happened in the shower," she said. "You need to sort this."

Arun bellowed in rage. His pulse raced, his limbs shook. "How the frakk can I do that?" Arun couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. His shoulders slumped. He hadn't wanted to bark at Springer.

Springer didn't scream back; she laughed as if this were all a game. "You're not alone, Arun." She shook her head in mock pity. Which was weird. Arun had never seen her act like that before. "It's you boys. It's your testosterone making you into idiots. I was talking this over with Majanita last night. She said she thought they give you Marine boys added testosterone to bulk you up, make you fight better. But they give you too high a dose. If not testosterone, then they must be giving you something similar."

Arun nearly missed Springer's emphasis. She wasn't talking about testosterone. "I'm surprised Madge bought into your theory," he said, a flash of understanding connecting them as he looked into her eyes.