Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) (12 page)

Cadet Phaedra Tremayne

Cadet Arun McEwan

~~Fire Team Blue6~~

Cadet LCpl. Del-Marie Sandure

Cadet Cristina Blanco

Cadet Serge Rhenolotte

==1 Replacement Requested==

MESSAGE ENDS

Arun’s leg still felt fragile, as if it were knitted together with spent carbine sabots. But as they jogged past the passageway that led from the hab-disk to Helix 62, that meant he’d now managed a full circuit of Ring 3 without his leg giving way.

“Let’s pick up the pace, boys,” he said, grinning. He felt indestructible.

“Take it easy, McEwan,” said Del-Marie.

“I’m fine,” Arun replied.

“Arun wouldn’t have suggested it, if he didn’t mean it,” said Osman, who pulled away.

“I know,” said Del-Marie as he accelerated to catch up. “But you’re forgetting something crucial about McEwan.”

“Go on,” said Osman. “Tell me.”

“The stupid skangat is afflicted with chronic idiocy.”

“C’mon, fellas,” protested Arun. “Quit joking around.”

“I wasn’t joking,” said Del-Marie. “And I’m not your ‘fella’. You saw the message from the sergeant. As of this morning, I’m a lance corporal.
Lance Corporal Sandure
. Still sounds kinda mutated, but you two had better get it right.”

“Sorry, lance corporal,” they chorused.

Arun refused to let Del get him down. His leg was healing – good enough to put in a few miles before breakfast. He’d even survived the fallout of Little Scar’s displeasure. Nothing was going to spoil his good mood, so he changed the subject. “This rendezvous with the Trog I have to make at 14:00, you’ll never guess what he’s gone and done.”

“He?” queried Osman.

“Yeah. ‘He’. Referring to the insect as ‘it’ all the time is way too tedious. Anyway, he’s suddenly changed the rendezvous point. We’re to meet up in orbit.”

“Why?” asked Osman.

“Search me. I tropied a lot of his friends. He might want to tip me out the airlock without a suit.”

“You think too much, Arun,” said Osman.

“Wouldn’t you in my situation, pal? Allow me my thoughts because I might be dead this time tomorrow. I don’t suppose Del would be too bothered if I didn’t survive. Would you, lance corporal?”

“Stop your whining, McEwan. I don’t like you. You’re too soft, too distracted by childish emotions. Since the rest of us became cadets we’ve moved on and left you behind. I’m beginning to think someone else deserved your berth more.”

“Finished yet?” Arun quipped.

“No. I also think you’re an idiot, but I’ve got your back all the same because you’re part of Blue Squad. So, no, I don’t want you to be killed tomorrow.”

Arun turned to Osman. “You see, Lance Corporal Sandure does love me! Bernard will get jealous if he carries on like that.”

Osman frowned. “Look, I’m your friend, Arun. But Del’s right. You’re drifting away. Toughen up, man. Get serious.”

Arun glared at his friend.
Get serious?
This from the same Osman Koraltan who two years ago converted his training rifle into a water gun and soaked the neighboring dorms in a water fight that spread throughout the company before the instructors shut it down.

“Oh, look at you!” Osman shook his head sadly. “It’s all tantrums and emotions with you. You’re supposed to be a Marine, for frakk’s sake. You’re meant to take your orders and then
act
. Marines don’t sit down and debate an order, exploring how it affects their feelings. Sometimes I think the others are right about you.”

“Right about what?”

“Frakk!” exclaimed Del. “You and your fat mouth, Osman.” To Arun he said: “We’re your squad mates. If you stay loyal to us, we’ll cover your back, come what may. The rest of the battalion doesn’t feel so generous.”

Coldness suffused Arun. Del didn’t have to spell it out. “I appreciate you two keeping down to my pace,” he said, “but I’m slowing you down. Why don’t you speed up and I’ll meet up with you at inspection?”

A curt nod from Del-Marie and Arun’s two jogging partners shot off like a starship engaging zero-point drive.

As he watched his comrades disappear around the curvature of Ring 3, Arun’s good mood returned. Even at his slow speed, the rhythmic pumping motion of his run energized his body and cleansed his spirit.

Osman was right. Much of Arun’s life felt abnormal. In unguarded moments, the others would agree that life as a cadet was cruel, even pointless. But none of that bothered the others – well, possibly Springer sometimes. Arun had always worried constantly, but he’d been able to keep that well hidden. Until these last few weeks. Now he couldn’t even decide whether the Human Marine Corps was a proud family he was privileged to belong to, or a tyranny that should be smashed in the name of freedom.

But jogging… He loved jogging because it felt so natural. The books from ancient Earth said the human body had evolved adaptations specifically for long-distance running. He believed them.

The sound of pounding feet advanced on him from behind. He pulled over to let the faster runners overtake. To reduce congestion, joggers always pounded the rings in an anti-clockwise direction. He was surprised none had overtaken him earlier.

Two runners drew level with Arun, keeping pace with him. He glanced across and saw two cadets, heavy set, good looking, with cold eyes that hid a hot temper. They could almost be twins. Arun knew them: Chao and Burgamy, senior cadets from Checker Squad.

Whatever they had planned couldn’t be good. He weighed his chances of sweeping their legs away and burying his fist in their faces before they realized he wasn’t ready to be a victim. But with his bad leg, that was never going to work, and fighting was theoretically forbidden, although incidents were usually reclassified as over-exuberance. So instead he nodded a respectful acknowledgment and maintained his speed.

Chao gave a gesture of command to more runners arriving from behind who raced to take up positions in front. They were all from Checker Squad. Horden’s Children! It looked as if the entire squad were here.

Some of the Checker cadets pushed between Arun and the wall, boxing him in entirely. Then they slowed, forcing Arun to slow with them until they halted altogether.

If they were trying to intimidate him, they were doing a grand job. Arun’s muscles prickled with the need for action but all he could do was clench his fist and bite his lip.

Cameras would be recording everything, every word spoken, every action taken were constantly assessed by security AIs. It was vital that Arun didn’t throw the first punch. He couldn’t risk being blamed for starting a brawl.

Arun lowered his gaze, took a deep breath, and asked Chao: “Is there anything I can help you with, lance sergeant?”

The intensity of Chao’s scrutiny heated the side of Arun’s face, but Arun refused direct eye contact.

“I’m proud that my Checkers get first crack at you, McEwan. And in case you think we’re some kind of rogue squad, let me assure you of one thing.” Chao leaned in close enough for Arun to feel his breath warm his ear. “Every squad in every company throughout the 8th battalion… we’re all lined up waiting for a piece of your ass. What do you think of that, loser?”

“Injuring other cadets is a serious offense, lance sergeant. You can be as much of a bullying veck as you like, but if you beat me up, you’ll be executed. That’s the one advantage of being a thing, owned by aliens. If you damage me, you damage someone else’s property. That someone else is a White Knight. Are you big enough to take on the White Knights, Lance Sergeant Chao?”

“Ohh!” Chao sprang back in mock horror. “I’m a bully. Gosh, the shame.” He laughed, the rest of the squad joining in on cue. “I’ll spell it out for you, alien-faggot. It’s not me. It’s every last member of Checker Squad wanting to have a quiet word with you about why we’re suddenly in the Cull Zone. Look around. Don’t see everyone here? That’s because the rest of the squad are up the corridor running interference so our little chat isn’t interrupted. We’re all equally involved. Who will the senior NCOs value most? An entire squad or one insect-loving loser? And if not Checker Squad then the next squad, and the next one. They’ll have to choose who they want most – you or the rest of the battalion. They’re odds I’m willing to stake my life on.”

The world seemed to fall away from Arun. Chao was right. Actually, no… Not quite. “You forgot one thing, Chao. You aren’t all equally to blame. You’ve acknowledged yourself to be the ringleader.”

“Oh, yes.” Chao gave a predatory grin. “Thanks for reminding me.” The lance sergeant cried out in agony, clutching his ankle, scattering his squadmates in all directions – but not enough to leave an opening for Arun to escape.

Chao rolled around on the ground, pretending without much conviction to be in extreme pain. He sat up, still clutching his ankle. “I seem to have suffered a severe ligament strain. I will have to sit here for a short while to recover. Follow whatever course of action you see fit, Checker Squad. In my incapacitated state, I am unable to guide you.”

A sinking feeling came over Arun as he waited for his beating to unfold with grim inevitability. He prepared to curl into a ball and bring up his arms to protect his skull.

It did no good. He felt two cadets behind him grab his arms. His legs were kicked away and Lance Corporal Burgamy lined himself up for the first kick.

“Vulley you, Chao.” Arun spat in the direction of Checker Squad’s leader.

“Really?” said Chao, still sitting on the floor. “Funny. I thought you only wanted to vulley aliens.”

Then Burgamy landed the first kick and the breath was knocked from Arun’s body.

He felt a burning need to curl over and reflate his lungs, but with his arms restrained he had to take the pain without the slightest respite.

Burgamy and the two cadets holding Arun’s arms waited until the first wave of pain had subsided before running off down the passageway, resuming their jog as if nothing had happened.

Cowards!

Red hot anger exploded through Arun. He wanted to punch, kick, and bite. But being on his knees meant he couldn’t throw his weight.

His arms were grabbed again and pinned against his back sharply enough to draw a yelp from Arun. As a tall girl, Schimschak, readied to throw a punch, Arun saw a line queue up behind her and sensed more cadets behind him, waiting to take their turn to restrain him.

Schimschak’s punch smashed into his face. Arun twisted at the last moment. It was only a glancing blow to his left eye, but still enough to make him see blinding flashes until he shook them away – just in time to see Hardy land a roundhouse kick into his flank.

After that, the blows came in too fast for Arun to tell them apart. He was alone in a sea of pain that roiled with frustrated anger.

Then, suddenly, it dawned on him that the beating had paused. The sounds of a scuffle broke out around him.

Arun marshaled his strength and peered out through his right eye – his left wasn’t cooperating. Around him, facing down the Checker Squad cadets, were Madge, Zug, and Springer. Others too, just out of sight.

Arun felt tears threatening to break to the surface. He hadn’t cried for years – didn’t want to now – but he’d felt so alone. So unwanted.

He collapsed to the floor and groaned. But the vibration of running feet came loud to his ears as he heard Checker Squad run off, hurling curses at Arun as they withdrew.

Arun didn’t care. He gathered his strength as rapidly as he could and put everything he had into his dwindled power of speech. “Thank you.” He propped himself up on one elbow and looked up at his rescuers.

He’d expected smiles and concerned expressions. Instead, many of the faces of his rescuers were as cold as Checker Squad’s had been.

Madge seemed to be in charge. She stood over him, hands on hips, regarding Arun struggling on the ground as if he were something she’d puked up. “Don’t get all dewy-eyed on me, loser.” She curled her lip. “If you weren’t in my section I’d be the first in line to give you the kicking you deserve for putting us in this drent. Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I like you. And don’t give me that crap about it not being your fault that you embarrassed the colonel. I don’t give a damn whether it’s fair or not, I’m still blaming you. Do you understand?”

Arun nodded.

“Frakk you, cadet. I asked you a question. I expect a respectful answer.”

“Sorry, corporal. Yes, I understand, corporal.”

Hands reached for Arun, helped him to his feet. But they weren’t the corporal’s. Cadet Corporal Estella Majanita, the friend he’d called Madge until yesterday, turned her back and walked away.

She did not look back.

The auto-shuttle docked with the unmanned orbital defense platform. Its two passengers alighted and made their way to the platform’s observation room, the young human managing this with far more grace than his insect companion.

Arun tried to keep the hive creature in his peripheral vision. He didn’t want to acknowledge the unwanted alien by looking directly at it –
him
, he reminded himself. Nor did he want to look completely away in case doing so was interpreted as a gesture of weakness.

Arun’s alien masters had felt accurate timekeeping was important enough that they had augmented all human Marines with a range of time-keeping capabilities. So even though it felt like an age, he knew it took only 412 seconds before the alien broke the impasse by speaking through the voice box hanging around his neck.

“Look out the porthole,” said the alien. “Tell me what you see.”

Until that episode in the tunnel exercise, Trogs hadn’t featured much in the lives of Arun and his comrades. The giant insects were grotesque fairytale monsters whose purpose, as far as the cadets were concerned, was to be an ingredient of the most indecent kind of insults. As to why they were really here, Arun had never heard any more than wild rumor until his interview with Little Scar. And who knew what truth lay behind the words of the Jotuns?

More to the point, Arun had been raised since crèche to know whom to salute and whom he could order around. The Trogs simply did not fit into that neat order. He resented this disruption.