Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) (18 page)

Arun looked into her face. She looked unsure of herself. Other than that time after the tunnels, he’d only really seen her from a distance or through a camera feed. She’d always looked so perfectly beautiful, so fired up with determination that he thought of her more like an unstoppable force of nature than a flesh-and-blood girl. Seeing her up close like this… he wanted to stroke her straight black hair away from her face, look into those dark eyes, and tell her everything would be all right.

He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t. How could he when his hands were enormous clumsy lumps resting on his hands, barely capable of holding his drink cup? His tongue wasn’t much more nimble, but his mind must have kept some of its sharpness because he found himself finishing off the implications of what he’d just said –
what Xin had led him to say
.

“And I would rate Moscow Express about the same,” said Arun. “We won’t win immunity either. So what you’re proposing is to merge the strongest members of each team. That way we win more merit points for the battalion and start the climb out of the Cull Zone. We might just win immunity for ourselves too. That is what you’re proposing, isn’t it?”

“Congratulation, McEwan. You’re not as dumb as you look. Don’t you agree that playing in my team makes the most sense?”

“In terms of cold logic? Yes, I suppose it does. But there are other things beyond logic. Morale, loyalty. They count too.”

“That’s easy for you to say, McEwan. You’re only G-2, this is only just becoming real to you. I’m a year further ahead. The Cull is much closer to reality for me. Much too close.”

“Okay, I get that.” Arun shuddered. He remembered the softscreen Little Scar had showing the last Cull of the 412th. The looks of resentment on everyone’s faces. The dignified silence of the victims made even more poignant by the few who screamed for mercy. But there was no mercy in Arun’s world.

“I can see you do,” said Xin kindly. She laid her hand on his thigh. “I’ve witnessed a Cull too, don’t forget. We see one at the end of every year.” She shuddered, almost retching. “I don’t want to be on the sharp end of one, but I don’t think my class can escape the Cull Zone. The climb is too high.”

“No one does,” said Arun. “But I can’t see my Moscow teammates going along with your idea. Do you think you can convince your team to bring me in?”

“Team? What team? Olmer quit. And without her, Pardi’s thinking about walking too. I reckon I can persuade Lindet to stay, but I need reasons. You are reason number one.”

Arun shook his head. The way Del-Marie had reacted after he’d been caught out watching Xin instead of Springer – he didn’t even want to even think about how they would react if told them he was joining Xin’s team.

“Hey! I’m still here,” snapped Xin. “Stop thinking. It’s not your strong point.”

“Easy!”

Xin sighed. “I’m disappointed. That’s all. I thought you’d like to spend more time with me.”

“Well, yes of course.”

“But you won’t even consider my suggestion.”

“Well, I–”

“All you need to do is play just one round with us. Then we’ll see where we go from there. Just one. It’s not much to ask and I’ll make it worth your while… you
do
like me, don’t you?”

“Like you? I do, I…”

“Oh, for frakk’s sake, dunkchunk. When I say,
like
, I’m not talking about modest affection. Let me spell it out. You find me desirable. I find your Scendence talents to be desirable. Let’s make a fair exchange.”

“No. I can’t.”

“
Can’t
. There’s that loser word again. Won’t is just as dumb in this case. Listen up, twinkle eyes, if I don’t win immunity, I might wind up dead. And, oh, let’s think for a moment… A year later, so might you. Bundle up all those soppy love tales you read as a kid, and fire a tac-nuke at them, ’cos this is the adult world you’re living in now. I’m not some frakking fairytale princess. I’m not the villain either. I’m just a flesh and guts girl who wants to live long enough to get off this planet and I’ll do whatever it takes to survive that long.”

“Horden’s Children! You’re so romantic.”

“Romantic? Listen up, McEwan, you’d better sort your drent out fast if you believe in frakking
romance
. Dumb veck. Romance is for… I don’t know. People in stories, I suppose. Real people on Earth, even. We’re not real people, McEwan. Don’t you get that? We’re slaves, you dongwit. Some of us are Culled every year. If we survive that, we’ll die anyway, fighting out there in the void, warring on behalf of those skangat White Knights who probably don’t exist anyway. But that doesn’t matter anyway because I’ll take my chances in any war. All I’m focused on right now is living long enough to earn my chance to die out there.”

In the multitude of conversations with Xin that Arun had dreamed of, there had always been at least an undercurrent of steamy romance, often more like a flood to be honest. All he felt now was pity mixed in with disgust.

He felt mostly pity for Xin.

And mostly disgust at himself because he was actually thinking of joining her.

But then he pictured the disappointment on Springer’s face.

“No,” he said. He’d had to drag the word out but now he’d turned her down… he felt relief.

Xin cast him a withering look that made him feel two inches tall. She sniffed disdainfully. “There’s a chance that if you do exceptionally well, your G-2 class might escape the Cull. For my class that chance is vanishingly small. I will be up for a 1 in 10 chance of being put to death. I have that hanging over me and why? Not from anything I’ve done. It’s not my fault.” She leaned in closer. “But it is yours.”

Arun shook his head. “That’s not fair.”

“You’re damned right it’s not fair. Doesn’t mean it isn’t true. You put me in this situation, McEwan.” She gripped his face, forced him to look her in the eye. “You owe me, man.”

Arun’s world blurred.

He’d heard that some Marines had been altered to allow messages and mood-altering hormonal packages to be passed through skin contact.
Gifting
they called it. Perhaps Xin had gifted him. Maybe the hurt, disappointment and vulnerability she’d beamed through her dark eyes had enchanted him. Or perhaps he was simply weak willed.

Whatever she’d done, or he’d allowed her to do, Arun’s mind shifted someplace else for a moment, a place he recognized: a noisy world of whirring brass cogs and hot oil where the planner part of his mind was yelling at him to join her. When he blinked and found himself back in the 8-412th’s mess hall he realized he’d done it. He’d agreed to join Xin.

“I’ll help out,” he added hastily. He paused. Gods, his head hurt. “But only because you’re in my battalion. I don’t want your… your
bribes
. And I don’t buy your guilt trip.”

“You’re a cold fish,” Xin sneered.

“
Me?
”

“Yeah, whatever.” She flashed a smile that was undeniably beautiful but so too was the void: cold, airless, and bathed in lethal radiation, but still beautiful.

He shuddered.

“Welcome to the team, Alan,” she said.

“Arun. I’m
Arun
.”

“If you say so, twinkle eyes. Next team training session is tomorrow 21:55 hours in hall 5B. Don’t be late and… hey, good luck telling your friends.”

That was it. Xin had finished with him and walked off, quickly disappearing in the crowd, and leaving Arun lost in dark thoughts.

Darkest of all: how
was
he going to tell his friends?

No training was scheduled for Scendence Days. If you weren’t competing yourself, you would be cheering on your buddies from parade halls and lecture theaters given over to Scendence and a dozen other lesser sports and shows. After laughing at your buddy up on one of the stages giving a hopeless attempt at conjuring tricks, she might get her own back by trashing you at a game of petanque. Everyone joined in the fun, because enjoying these Marine holidays was not a privilege, it was an order.

After agreeing to join Xin’s team, Arun tried to lose himself in the fun going on all around him. He couldn’t. He was like a ghost at his own funeral: desperate to connect with his friends in ways taken for granted in life but now impossible.

Eventually, he slipped away to the shooting range, reasoning that he’d participated enough in the Scendence events not to get into trouble.

As soon as he picked up the SA-71, he knew coming here had been the right thing to do. The feel of the carbine close to his shoulder was a comfort, the gun his most reliable friend who never judged him. He needed this. As he put round after round into the plastic targets thrown in random arcs by the range AI, every target hit made him feel better. Made him feel like he was good Marine material, despite all the drent going on. When he was inside his battlesuit, Barney did most of the aiming. Here in the range, without his suit AI, Arun was still a crack shot.

Detroit’s layout was divided up by the four regiments of Marines based there. There was no rule to say you had to stick with your own regiment, but strolling into another regiment’s territory wasn’t something to do lightly. Arun was banking on Scendence Day being different. Humor was good, rules relaxed. Arun decided he couldn’t spend the rest of the day at his range and so drifted across the border into the 420th’s section of Detroit. He kept clear of the Scendence halls and visited immersion training suites, a library and even spent quiet time in one of the temples, trying to figure out what the hell was messing up his head and making him do crazy things.

Night came. The light in the tunnels and rooms changed, losing its UV content and taking on a ruddy glow. With no clear insights into why he kept inviting trouble, just a wasted afternoon, Arun wandered back to his dorm in hab-disk 6/14.

Everyone stopped and stared when he walked in. He wouldn’t have felt more of an outsider if he’d walked into a random dorm in another regiment’s hab-disk.

“Where have you been, man?” asked Osman.

“And why?” added Del-Marie.

Arun took a deep breath and then told them everything. He tried to explain how he had this premonition that he needed to be close to Xin and close to her Scendence team. It wasn’t so much that he was leaving Moscow Express, he explained, more a merger of both teams.

The others greeted this with jeers and heads shaken with disappointment. Even to Arun his words sounded more feeble excuse than explanation.

Frakk them! I’m a Marine cadet. I don’t give up.

“Hey?” he protested “don’t give me that drent. It’s not like I’ve joined a team from another battalion. Is it? Well, is it?” He dared them to deny the truth. But most of his comrades were already turning away.

“Xin’s part of our battalion,” he said. “Our scores are pooled each year. If her Scendence team scores well, it helps to keep all of us from getting Culled just as much as it does her and the G-1 companies.”

“That’s not the point,” said Zug. “We’re squad buddies. You let us down. Again. When we’re in the field and get in a tight spot, we must rely on each other. Trust. Teamwork. And you’ve just taught us that we can’t rely on you.”

“But, Zug…”

With his voice of perfect calm and reason, Zug delivered his damning verdict. “No, Arun. I’ve nothing more to say to you.” Every pair of eyes in that room were trained on Arun and Zug. Calmly, Zug picked up a softscreen, and opened it to the book he was reading. Arun recognized the title. It was an ancient work of political philosophy called
Two Treatises of Government.
Only last month, he’d discussed with Zug what kind of world its author, John Locke, had inhabited. Now that easy friendship of many years had vaporized.

Not you too, Zug!
Arun had come prepared for a shouting match with Madge and Springer, perhaps Del-Marie who took a lot to anger but had a volcanic temper once roused. Arun might not have changed anyone’s opinion of him, but he would have given as good as he got.

But Zug was so calm, so reasonable. So
final
. Arun had no defense against that. All the fight went out of him. Since birth he’d had drilled into him that no plan survives contact with the enemy. He hadn’t expected such a practical demonstration in his dorm of all places.

Once again he felt like a ghost at his own funeral. Only one person looked at Arun as if he still lived: Springer.

“Get it over with,” he said as she walked his way. “Tell me how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Arun.”

“Really?” Arun brightened. “Sweet homecoming, Springer. For a moment there…” He shut up when saw the sour look on Springer’s face.

“You’re an idiot, Arun. But you’re my idiot. How could I hate you for being yourself? But disappointment? The universe isn’t big enough to contain all the disappointment I feel for what you did. That dirty skangat, Xin, saw what a soft dongwit you are and twisted you around her little finger as if you were one of those pretty ribbons the 420th wear. Let’s face it, you have as much backbone as a scrap of ribbon. Xin hasn’t one iota of respect for you. You do realize that, right?” She paused to emphasize her point and watch Arun squirm. “You were pathetic today, Arun, but I don’t hate you. I hate
her
.”

Her words stung. Was she right? No, Arun decided, because she didn’t understand the whole picture. To be fair, neither did he. “I’m not sure how it happened. I felt…” What had he felt? He’d already tried to explain the planner part of his brain telling him to do as Xin asked. As excuses went, it stank.

“There is a solution of sorts,” said Springer.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve checked. There’s nothing to stop you continuing to play for Moscow Express and play for
her
team too. It’s very rare but it’s been done before. The game AIs will try to schedule the contests to avoid conflicts.

Springer was beyond wonderful. Arun almost kissed her, but stopped himself. She was still too frakked off. Then a dark thought cast a shadow over his hope. “If we did well, the two teams would eventually face each other. I can’t compete against myself. What then?”

Springer rolled her beautiful eyes. “Life is strewn with choices that can’t be bypassed. Haven’t you learned that yet? It’s through our choices that we are known.”