Chapter Eighty (Vuxten) (2/2)
They both sat silently for a long moment.
”Yes,” they both said at once. They asked the same question at the same time. ”Are you angry?” and answered at the same time. ”No.”
Bentili'ik looked at her husband. The gray around his mouth, around the metal of his cybernetic eye, on his remaining ear, and the lines engraved into his face from having been under stress for so long. He still walked with a light limp and the scars had not yet been covered with fur. She held his hands tightly.
”Citizenship is a heavy burden,” she quoted.
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The commander of Refugee Camp Osmium looked up as his newest assistant entered the office. His implant identified her immediately and he noted that her picture that was in the datafile open on his desk-terminal did not do her justice.
Strong came to mind with the way she carried herself. Intent was easily applied to her clear eyes and gaze. Dedicated was something that was obvious in her expression.
The commander stood up, holding out his hand. The Telkan woman took it, shaking it slowly.
Brentili'ik took a seat at Colonel James Hikikitik Harvey's gesture, holding the printouts on her lap as she looked at the human. His skin was brown, his hair shaved away to leave a bare and gleaming scalp, both eyes had been replaced by cybernetics along with half of his face being nothing but dully gleaming black warsteel.
He looked competent to her eyes and that was all that mattered to her.
”It's good to meet you, Mrs. Brentili'ik,” Col Harvey said. ”When Fleet told me they had a good fit for a Telkan Liaison Officer I was a little worried till I received your file.”
”Thank you, sir,” Brentili'ik said softly.
”Well, that about covers the pleasantries,” The human said. He touched an icon on his desk and map of the area popped into being in mid-air between them. ”We've got a lot of work ahead of us. We need to get your people out of the refugee camp and into more permanent settlements. Let's start looking at which one needs what to make it comfortably livable.”
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The humans were walking down the line, yelling at the little Telkans who were lined up to stand up straight, perk up those ears, stare straight ahead, curl those tails off the ground, close your mouth! They all had a little bag in front of them holding their worldly possessions.
Adaptive Camouflage Uniforms, modesty clothing, personal grooming devices, boots, gloves.
Vuxten walked with the big human, who had told the lined up Telkan that they would refer to him only as Sergeant. His cybernetic eye whirring as he looked at the eager Telkans. He limped slightly but it no longer ached.
”Did I look so little, Sergeant?” Vuxten asked as they reached the middle of the line.
”You? Hell no, Trooper Vuxten, you were twenty feet tall, made of warsteel, and on fucking fire,” Sergeant half-yelled. ”You were born to be a Marine.”
Vuxten was at the recruiting and training center to get all the training he had missed out on, that he needed to be a Marine, but he also was to act as the Telkan Liaison, to advise the human cadre and to provide the other Telkan someone they could confide in.
A low flying aircraft went by in the clear blue sky as Vuxten and Sergeant kept walking down the line of eager recruits.
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Brentili'ik stood at the front of the classroom, watching the Telkan being instructed how to read. So many of her people were functionally illiterate or only iconoliterate that it hurt her heart. Colonel had agreed with her that education of her fellow Telkan should be a priority.
She had been attending classes herself. Learning about the trauma that was inflicted on slave-castes and the methods of easing and eventually erasing the trauma.
The biggest thing, all of the textbooks had stressed, was the feeling of independence and control.
No longer living in a world full of symbols that you were unable to understand had been made a priority by Bentili'ik. Teaching her people to read, teaching them the value of knowledge, the importance of learning, was important to her.
She was proud of her people. It was difficult, leaving the sheltered burrow and emerging, blinking, into the terrible brightness of freedom. More than a few Telkan bemoaned the old days, but those days were gone.
She felt a swell of pride as a Telkan podling stood up and read aloud what was on the classroom display, her voice firm and sure. Her heart soared at the knowledge that the podling could not only read the words but knew the meanings.
Brentili'ik knew that to others it may not be that important.
To her, it was everything.
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Vuxten stepped out of the heavily armored vehicle, his macac rifle tight in his fists. Behind him a group of a half-dozen Telkan recruits followed him. They were armed with laser rifles powerful enough to damage Precursor armor but not strong enough to damage the warsteel of the armor they, and he, wore to protect themselves. Like him, they were in the final phase of 16 weeks of hard training. Now they just had to prove they could put everything they had learned to work.
”All right, Lance Corporal Vuxten, this village should be cleared, but Colonel Harvey wants it swept by ground pounders just in case and that means you and your troopers,” The voice of Lieutenant said from where he was watching the datalinks inside the heavy vehicle. ”Just remember your training and you'll do just fine.”
”You'll do fine, Vuxten. If you're unsure what to do, talk to me, I'll help you out,” Sergeant said over a different channel.
”Thank you, both,” Vuxten said. He opened the other channel.
”All right, men. Follow me. Spread out five meters, I don't want a grenade or unexploded mortar round killing half of you,” Vuxten said, trying and failing to keep the snap from his voice.
His men just tabbed the 'affirmative' icons. All of them were sweating nervously. LCpl Vuxten was a legend among the Telkan who wanted to be troopers. A janitor who had become a Terran Marine.
As one they gripped their lasers tightly and started moving into what had been an Overseer luxury resort. They were all eager to please Vuxten, please Sergeant and Lieutenant, and please the Confederacy and the Marine Corps.
They had all seen the posters, all signed up. All gone through the training that had been compressed and hurried due to the war raging outside the walls of the refugee city.
The offer was amazing. More than any Telkan had ever been offered before. A simple offer but one that to the Telkans, used to being little more than neo-sapient slaves, reached out for with every fiber of their beings.
Service Brings Citizenship.
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A month later an atomic charge went off in the wreckage of a city.
Vuxten got that familiar tightness down his back. Something/one was coming and they weren't coming to help.
Brentili'ik knew that feeling. It meant that someone had decided that her people had something worth taking.