Human Legion: Marine Cadet Part 8

There was precedent.

The colonel halted at the top of the steps leading down from the upper part of the room, and delivered a roar that liquefied Arun's spine. Somehow Arun remained at attention, distracting himself with the way the colonel's earrings jangled as he folded his ear trumpets flat against his head.

Little Scar's mouth gaped wide. He did not speak, but the sounds of a male human came from his throat speaker. "You have seen footage from 32 years ago, from the last time my regiment suffered the dishonor of the Cull." He held up one upper limb. A single rubbery finger shot outward stretching as long as a human arm. And it was pointing straight at Arun. "I have had to explain to Supreme Commander Menglod why your image is posted throughout Detroit."

The colonel growled again. "Do I need to draw a connection between the two facts?"

Arun's sight glazed over. He couldn't breathe. He daren't.

The colonel retracted his finger. "The human cadets in the tunnel exercise are less than three years from graduation, from fighting in the war. Losing is a valuable lesson. It is best to lose at some point in your training. A warrior who has never been bested has never tasted the ash and tarnished mouth-feel of defeat. They remain untested and I do not wish for untested warriors in my regiment."

Arun breathed.

But then the Jotun extended his claws. They were serrated and so very sharp. "But to lose badly is unforgivable," he continued. "The stink of incompetence can linger forever. I must correct this now or execute the entire battalion. It wouldn't be the first time we had to discard a unit gone rotten. You humans have created this crisis and you are forever grumbling that you should run more of your own affairs. So you advise me. What should I do?"

Little Scar fixed his glare on Nhlappo. "You first."

She didn't hesitate. "Sir. Cadet McEwan is the source of the embarra.s.sment. He should be executed immediately."

Nhlappo looked as if she had more to say but Little Scar pointed to Rekka. "You!"

"Sir. I agree with the senior instructor, sir."

The Jotun narrowed his eyes, glaring at Rekka. Arun allowed himself a little inward smile when he imagined how Rekka must feel under that attention.

Alistair and Hortez were next. Each took full responsibility upon himself, but evaded suggesting what punishment they should suffer.

Then it was Arun's turn. What could he say? He was trapped by his predatory superiors. So he spun the line that Nhlappo had ordered him to back in her office, dragging out the toxic words with as much dignity as he could manage. "Sir, you should remove the source of our shame by executing me."

He tensed his neck, expecting Little Scar to leap down the stairs and slash with those claws.

But the alien appeared satisfied and settled his attention on the sergeant whose name Arun still didn't know. "You are senior human sergeant for 'C' Company, 8th battalion. What would you do?"

If he was the senior veteran then he must be Staff Sergeant Bryant. He answered calmly. "Sir. It is the leader's responsibility to preserve the honor of his or her unit. To have lost a unit's honor is a catastrophic loss of authority after which no leader can function. So if a unit has dishonored itself, then its leader should be punished as an example. Even if the punishment isn't fatal, before the leader can return to the same position he or she must not only wait for a suitable period of atonement, but must also earn that position to the satisfaction of the unit."

"Quite so," said Little Scar. He nodded, a gesture of agreement, although with his p.r.o.nounced brow ridge and bony skull crest the motion looked very much like an armored headb.u.t.t. "Of all of us, Staff Sergeant Bryant has most recently been tested in battle. It shows."

He pointed to Alistair and Hortez. "You are no longer Marine cadets."

A third finger extruded from his hand toward Nhlappo. "You! Ensure these failures are out of my regiment by the end of the day. Then hand over your remaining duties to your junior instructors. From midnight you are demoted to the rank of Marine private. Gold Squad has lost its veteran to resuscitation attrition. You will fill the gap. Pray that you are never presented to me again. I shall not be so lenient next time."

The merest hint of a protest sounded in Nhlappo's throat, but she cut it dead just in time.

"I have..." started Little Scar but stopped suddenly. He growled, flicking his ears wildly. "I have discussed your company's performance with Commander Menglod and we have agreed a unit-wide punishment for the 8th battalion. Examine your screens."

Arun looked down at the image of the Totalizer showing the leaderboard of battalions vying with each other to keep out of the Cull Zone. 8-412/TAC was 7,000 points ahead of the cut off. Arun steeled himself to see that safety margin diminish.

The screen refreshed.

8-412/TAC had disappeared. No it hadn't. It had s.h.i.+fted position. They were bottom!

"We have deducted 25,000 points from 8-412/TAC. This year's graduates will be Culled."

The colonel looked from one human face to another, daring them to protest. They were too stunned to speak.

"There is to be no further punishment of the cadets over this issue. Dismissed."

A mix of horror and relief flooded through Arun as he about-heeled to leave. He'd escaped but his friends had not. It should have been the other way around.

"No, not you, McEwan," said the Jotun. "You shall remain here."

Little Scar waited until the other humans had marched away before switching from his thought-to-voice system to speak in his own gravelly words.

"I want a chat with you."

* Chapter 12 *

With a wave of the rubbery tubes that pa.s.sed 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 a.s.signed 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 sixlegged 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 a.s.sumed an att.i.tude 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 s.h.i.+vered. 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 precognitive 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 a.n.a.lysis 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 s.h.i.+vered 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 t.i.tle. All we know is that she is purple." He laughed, the artificial sound accompanied by a ba.s.s 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 s.e.xual 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 s.e.xual 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?"