Marine Cadet (The Human Legion Book 1) (57 page)

Panic flared through Arun. How the frakk did he know about the Human Legion?

“NCO privilege,” explained Bryant. “You’re still in a training suit and I have the override. I can do more than lock your suit’s motors, I can also listen in to your words. I can only hope the Hardits’ human allies didn’t know how to do the same.”

“You think there are human traitors too?”

“How else could they have drugged you cadets? They still are, by the way. I daren’t let on that I know that. They’re doing it to turn you into unquestioning robots. If Charlie Company were ordered to fire on friendly units, I don’t think many could shake off the drugs enough to question that order.”

“But surely they can’t keep this secret indefinitely,” said Arun. The conspiracies were starting to make sense. “Which means… which means they will make their move soon.”

“Agreed.”

“But… the Human Legion? Where do you get that name? I have never uttered those words.”

“Stow the chatter, McEwan. We haven’t much time. You might not have said them but you did hear them spoken once, by…” He broke off to check records. “By Cadet Phaedra Tremayne.”

“Springer?”

Bryant laughed. “
Springer
. Is that what you call her? I like that. Very human.” He paused, keeping the faceplates in contact. “Damn. The rest of the squad is coming. Listen, trust the colonel, your Trog friend, myself, and Sergeant Gupta. And Cadet Lee. There are a few others but best you don’t know who. Hopefully the traitors aren’t after us specifically, but they can kill us just as surely if we get in their way. Stay alive and keep your profile low. You have a responsibility to the future. I hope one day to serve under you in the Human Legion.
Sir
.”

Arun was too stunned to reply, but amidst that explosion of surprise, he logged the mention of Cadet Lee. Did Bryant mean Xin Lee?

Bryant moved away releasing the system lock on Arun’s suit, which meant Barney suddenly carried out the emergency evasive maneuver Arun had demanded when he’d tried to shoot Bryant.

Arun wasn’t ready for the sudden 5g zigzags. The universe became a fuzzy blur of violent motion. When his senses came back fully, he was half a klick away at the edge of a squad of cadets deploying in open order, and his neck was screaming in protest at the whiplash. To add to his woes, Sergeant Gupta’s voice screamed at him through his helmet speaker.

“McEwan.
McEwan!
Get your sorry ass into position. Did you just black out on me? Don’t tell me you blacked out.”

“No, sergeant. I did not black out, sergeant.” Which was close enough to the truth. Arun’s world had grayed, not blacked.

“Then what the hell are you doing out of position, you useless veck?”

“Sorry, sergeant.”

“Umarov is worth ten of you, McEwan. Next time you screw up, you’re back with the Aux permanently and I’ll thaw out another Marine from Umarov’s vintage. This is your last chance.”

“Thank you, sergeant.”

“Don’t waste my time thanking me, McEwan. Just get your ass in position and we can finally get started.”

Arun grinned as he maneuvered into place. It felt good to have allies.

The next two weeks were exhausting but were the most glorious Arun had ever enjoyed. Their Detroit hab-disks had housed the ultimate luxury: Aux who would cook, clean and wash. On Antilles there was no one else to plumb in the head or clean any blockage. Sergeant Gupta demanded there should be no slippage in hygiene standards, which meant the cadets not only had to cook but clean the galley afterward. Fatigues also had to be not only clean each morning, but crease free.

None of this would be possible if not for the Trogs, whose tunneling and construction ability was miraculous. They built rectangular rooms with level floors for human usage, constructed drainage and ventilation channels and hardened conduits for power and data feeds. Their arterial corridors were broad: wide enough to take ten humans abreast, plus at least one line of the monorail system which the Trogs used to transport mounds of heavy equipment, spoil, and Trog workers.

The tunnel system already stretched for several klicks around the Hardit base Arun had fought over in the Battle of the Swoons. Given a generation or two, the entire moon would be honeycombed with their tunneling.

Best of all was the pleasure of sharing honest toil with the brothers and sisters of his unit. He wasn’t sure why, but he was accepted once more as part of the unit. Perhaps it was trying to save Springer’s life? He also suspected that they weren’t being constantly fed combat drugs any more, though he had no way to be certain of that. Sergeant Gupta had taken Arun to one side and explained that sometimes when a group of untested Marines first comes under fire, invisible bonds are forged between the survivors that are stronger than animosities built up over the preceding years.

Springer would be back soon. She’d be able to explain what had changed.

The Trogs were everywhere but it was impossible to guess their number when all scribes and all workers looked identical. The one Trog Arun considered to be an individual was nowhere to be seen… until the day before the reinforcements from Bolt squad were due to arrive. Arun was given an order to report to a deep level where he had never been. He guessed the summons had not come from a human.

“Didn’t think you were going to see me again,” Arun told his old friend who had been waiting for him. Pedro seemed to be growing into his new body. The dead ‘skin’ had flaked away to leave a rough carapace of mottled gray with ridges running around his body like hoops around an ancient wooden barrel. His legs had atrophied. Arun wondered whether they would eventually drop off, a body part not required in great parents.

“This is the last time I plan for us to have a conversation,” Pedro replied.

“So this is for old times’ sake, eh?”

“Arun McEwan, do you recall why our first planned encounter was on orbital platform?”

“So we couldn’t be overheard.”

“Correct. Orbital platforms have heavy defense against infiltration by nano spies. And now too, finally, is this area of our new moonbase. We may speak freely.”

“Let me guess. You’re going to tell me that the Night Hummers have spoken of Xin too. That’s she’s part of their prophecy.”

Pedro whirled his antennae in consternation. In his old body, Arun reckoned, he’d be scampering around too.

”But you are accurate,” said Pedro when he’d recovered. “How can this be so?”

“I have my sources.”

“This is excellent news, if surprising. Our hopes for freedom and expansion rest on both your pairs of narrow human shoulders. If you knew this already, perhaps your shoulders are a little broader than I thought.”

“Nice human metaphor, pal.”

“I thank you.”

“What I don’t know,” said Arun, “is how the purple girl fits in. Little Scar talked of a purple girl.”

“I know nothing of this. I do not think Lee Xin will change her color. My guess is that this purple human is an adaptation of your species bred for camouflage on worlds rich with vegetation. Foliage on most planets is purple. I enjoy speculating with you, but this is only a guess.”

Arun thought that over. Little scar had talked of someone arriving at Tranquility soon. No point guessing, though. He’d just have to keep an eye open. “You’ve been a great help, Pedro,” he said, knowing the old Pedro would glow with pleasure at the praise. “Really. But now you’re cutting me loose. I understand that, but since I’m on my own, do you have any last advice for me?”

“Only what Sergeant Gupta tells me he has been trying to tell you all along: to keep your head down and wait for your chance.”

“Is that it?”

“No.”

When Pedro didn’t elaborate, Arun grinned and placed a hand on Pedro’s rough carapace. “I know you too well for you to confuse me, my friend. Pedro, please tell me what else you have to tell me.”

“You are mistaken. Anything I have not told you is self-evident.”

Arun laughed. “Have you forgotten that you regard the male human brain to be blinkered and sex-obsessed? What is self-evident that we have not yet discussed?”

“That I will aid you if I can, but I have no influence outsystem. That if you need refuge in the Tranquility system I will try to provide it here on Antilles.”

“Is that truly it? Nothing more to tell me?”

“There is plenty more. However, there are things it is best you do not know. Otherwise if you were interrogated…”

“Yeah. I get it.” He gently caressed Pedro’s feathery antennae. Under a covering of downy hairs, they were surprisingly stiff; cracked too, like perished black plastic. He’d never ditch his Cadet Prong rep if any human saw him, but Pedro was his good friend, and communicating through touch was a human thing.

“I never did get around to touching you there,” Arun said. “Does it feel nice?”

“Oh, yes. Y - e - sss.” The artificial voice distorted, growing fuzzier until becoming a low rumble. It had never done that before. Then Pedro’s legs buckled, giving way under him,

Arun snatched his hands away, screwing face up in disgust. “You’re kidding me. That’s not… I mean I didn’t just…?

When Pedro recovered, he curled his antennae and answered: “Your sex obsession continues to amuse. When I was altered to morph into a new great parent, I passed by the reproductive stages, never to reclaim them. I am incapable of what you would call sexual arousal. Your touch was merely very relaxing.”

“Thank frakk for that. Well, I guess if that’s all you have to say, then it’s farewell, you big lunk. It was been good having you as a friend.”

“I have not ceased being a friend, Arun, but now I must be a secret one. The action of Ensign Thunderclaws drew a great deal of attention to you. It has been noted and questioned. I gave you the choice of your reinforcements so that you could demonstrate loyalty to your nest brothers and sisters, I do not wish to further the sense that you are special. That is why this is our last meeting. Farewell, human McEwan.”

With that, Pedro turned and swam through the wall.

Arun blinked, barely believing his eyes. In his morphing body, Pedro was struggling to walk, but he swam through the chewed rock as if it were his natural element.

How the frakk did he do that?

Arun inspected the wall, remembering back to that first training exercise when the Troggie guardians had emerged through the walls. Yet they had struggled to dig him out of the hole his grenades had scooped out for him. The packed earth or rock dust Pedro had disappeared into felt powdery and glistened with slime. He thrust his hands into the wall which parted until he’d nearly pushed in up to his elbows. Then the earth hardened.

Idiot!
Arun yanked his arms back, but it was too late! The soil had hardened around him. He screamed for help

He was lucky some passing Trog workers were nearby. They came racing through the passageway, milling around in confusion when they got to Arun. He waggled his upper arms, trying to communicate that he was stuck.

They looked at the wall. They looked at the human who had summoned them. They looked at each other.

Then one rubbed its antennae over Arun’s shirt, over the spot where Pedro had implanted his scent communicator.

Now the big aliens understood, flinging themselves at the wall in their eagerness to free Arun.

Arun understood too. It wasn’t his human screams that had summoned the Troggie workers, it was his distress interpreted by the device and translated into pheromones, just as Pedro’s box translated the scents he communicated into human speech.

When his limbs came free, the cramps he felt in his arms were excruciating, but Arun ignored that and filled his mind with a sense of gratitude.

By the way the workers scampered around, rubbing themselves against him, the Trogs were basking in his praise.

Arun grinned. Being queen of the ants could prove pretty useful. Though he started to have doubts as he dusted himself off and went to rejoin the rest of his section, who were readying to patrol the mining area where the insurrection had started, an exercise in being seen. Five Troggie workers followed in a neat column behind Arun.

He began to wonder what Madge would say if he didn’t find the pheromone that told them to clear off.

On the day Bolt Squad were due to join them in the growing Antilles tunnel complex, excitement spread through Indigo Squad like a fever. By way of welcome, the cadets constructed an item that could loosely be described as a cake.

Umarov said this was madness. Having a party with Indigo would be the last thing on the newcomers’ minds. If he were in their place he’d want to rip the heads off everyone in Indigo and spit down their necks.

Umarov always complained. It was just his way. But he meant what he said because he stuck close to Arun all day, explaining that the cadet needed protection more than anyone. He even guarded Arun when they showered after the two had spent a day showing a Marine presence at a cluster of heavy element mines about 150 klicks east of their main base.

Although they called them
showers
, water was far too scarce to be blasted at dirty cadets. Instead they stripped off and rubbed into their bodies a warmed-up ocher goop, which looked like fine moon dust mixed in with the kind of degreasing agent used to clean machine parts. Then they used plastic scrapers to lift off the cleaner. It sounded primitive but was surprisingly effective, leaving their skin cleaner and more refreshed than the Detroit showers.

“I still don’t get why you’re so worried about Bolt Squad,” said Arun as he scooped the cleaning slime from his calves. “You’ve graduated, which makes you senior to them. I know Gupta asked Madge to run the section, and we could all see a few days ago that you and Madge have finally sorted between you how that works.”

“You noticed our bruises, eh?”

“The limps were kinda obvious too.”

“Get to the point, McEwan. Technically I outrank all the cadets in Bolt Squad. You want to know why I don’t just order them to play nice.”

“Well?”

Umarov shrugged. “Enlarging the group means we need to re-establish the new pecking order, same as I did with Majanita. Can’t be avoided. Fighting human nature never works. I’m just here to keep you alive, pal. The rest is up to you.”