Chapter 164: (Nemta) (1/2)

Nemta came out of his hut yawning. It was daylight, and he hated to admit it, but he had no idea how long a day lasted on the planet. Friend Terry was sitting by the big orb, one of the mantids, Nemta thought it was 821, standing behind Friend Terry with a bladearm stuck into the Terrans back. 821 was flashing icons that 303 was repeating.

”I know, I know. Can you fix it?” Friend Terry asked. 821 flashed more icons, which 303 repeated. ”All right. You'll have to replace it. I get it. I can't use my onboard weaponry until you fix it.”

More icons flashed.

”I know you know,” Friend Terry sighed. ”The interface is designed to make me anxious when my systems aren't sitting at at least 60% and with all my onboard weaponry down I'm only at 30% and I'm anxious. I talk when I'm anxious.”

More icons.

”Thank you for understanding. I know, you're not infantry techs, you're assault shuttle engineers. Just do your best, guys,” Friend Terry said. Nemta had the feeling the two green insect engineers were mollified by the icons they flashed.

As Nemta watched, eating his share of the daily rations, Friend Terry laid back and the mantids moved over to his chest. Nemta almost stood up when one of the mantids used their bladearm to slice open Friend Terry's chest. He could see the glimmer of wiring in the Terran's chest, embedded in the muscle, as they kept working.

”Feels weird. Kinda tickles,” Friend Terry said. ”Being in maintenance mode outside of a cradle is really weird.”

303 flashed icons, petting Friend Terry's forehead with a bladearm.

The gathered survivors whispered to each other as 821 worked. Once through the muscle it removed a large hunk of durasteel with shiny wires coming off of it.

”Aaaaaand now I'm paralyzed,” Friend Terry said. Icons and emoticons suddenly started flashing. Suddenly the Terran's arm raised and lowered. Then the other. Then one leg and the other. 303 handed 821 a piece of hardware that the little mantid pulled out of its backpack and 821 fitted it into the mount on the Terran's sternum. More icons.

”I can feel my limbs again,” the Terran said. ”I've got a lot of synaptic errors, lots of nerve fiber bundle errors, but my onboards are working again.”

The other survivors, as Nemta watched, knelt down in front of the life-sized drawing of the red-haired female Terran warrior, making prayers. Mother stood, watching, leaning on her cane as the two mantids closed the Terran up. They used armor-bonding agent on the wound.

Friend Terry laid on the ground for a long time after the two Mantids went over to the orb and began consulting their computers again. It looked to Nemta like the Terran was speaking but he couldn't hear anything.

Mother came up and looked down at him. ”Does the Mad Arch-Angel of TerraSol shine her light upon you?”

”Yeah. Just taking a while for everything to synch up. Most of my onboard systems were knocked out in the crash and when they shocked me back,” Friend Terry gave a big sigh. ”Still have a lot of damage, but I'll heal up now.”

”That is good to know, Friend Terry,” the Hamaroosa said. She sighed and sat down, sipping at her carafe of warm tea. ”Will this help you in our quest to escape purgatory?”

”It should,” the Terran said. As Nemta watched his fingers started twitching. Sometimes curling all the way, other times trembling.

”Does it pain you?” Mother asked.

”No. It's pins and needles until the part comes online, but it isn't really painful,” Friend Terry said. ”I'll test some of it once I'm fully back online.”

He's helpless, went through Nemta's mind. For a second he was tempted to pick up the rock next to him and crush the Terran's skull. He even glanced at the rock twice and at Terry before he noticed something. There was a little red dot on his hand that slowly climbed up his arm and vanished toward his neck.

Looking around Nemta realized that 303 had a tiny rifle held loosely in his hands and was behind a piece of battlesteel up to almost his lower arms. Above his head flashed a red arrow pointing down at him then and arrow pointed at Nemta then an icon of a dark blue, almost black, berry. Right after that was an emoji of a smiley face in a brown hat with a cigar. A wisp of smoke or mist eeked out the barrel of the rifle.

Nemta turned around, deliberately looking away from the little green insect.

He wondered what 'I you berry' meant or what the emoji meant.

”Your skin is getting dark,” Mother said.

”Melanin. Gives me better resistance to some things, increased production for other things. It's kind of complicated,” Friend Terry said.

”Do Terrans often have skin that changes colors?” Mother asked.

”Yes and no. We have many different skin colors and exposure to solar radiation makes our skin darken,” Friend Terry said.

”Terrans are strange creatures,” Mother said.

”Survival of the most adaptable,” Friend Terry said. ”The fittest can't always adapt to changing environment so either you change or adapt to change your environment. It's the secret of our success.”

Mother made a slow noise that Nemta knew was the Hamaroosa equivalent of thinking.

”Humans can adapt to almost anything,” he gave a chuckle. ”I made the Lunar Mile once.”

”What is the Lunar Mile?” Mother asked.

”There's a base on our moon, Tycho Base. There's two airlocks exactly one mile apart, a straight line. You run from one airlock to the other with nothing but goggles, noseplugs, running clothes, running shoes, and a bite-guard,” Friend Terry said. He gave an odd laugh. ”You step out of the airlock into vacuum and run. Your average unmodified athletic human can run a mile in just under five minutes, can hold their breath for roughly six minutes, so you have an extra minute.”

”Seriously?” Mother asked. ”What about vacuum damage?”

”It's why you wear goggles. I mean, people die doing it, but it's fun to attempt. I'm a member of the Red Dot Club,” Friend Terry laughed.

”What is that?” Mother asked.

”If I died, I couldn't be brought back,” Friend Terry said. ”I did it back before I went full conversion. I had a tattoo on my meat body that told anyone who saw the tattoo that I'd made the Lunar Mile.”

”Oh,” Mother sounded shocked. ”But why?”

There was quiet for a moment. ”To prove I could,” Friend Terry finally said. ”Not everyone can. I did. It earned me admiration and approval from people.”

Nemta curled his lip slightly. He knew it was so Friend Terry could feel superior to other beings.

Can you run in vacuum, Nemta? floated up in his head. He tried to push it away but the thought continued. Could you do it? Even if you were able to do it, could you bring yourself to do it? The Terran thought it was worth risking death to gain the approval of other Terrans.

Nemta reached down and grabbed the jagged part of the metal he was sitting on, squeezing it, feeling it cut into his hand. I'm a fighter pilot. I risk death every time I get in the cockpit.

The voice in his mind had no answer.

After a bit he heard movement. Before he could look Mother spoke.

”You look much better,” she said.

”Thanks,” there was that cracking noise that Nemta immediately thought of Friend Terry moving his head like he was trying to touch his temples to his shoulders. ”I'm feeling a lot better. Systems are at 60% and rising, which means my anxiety is dropping.”

There was quiet for a moment. ”Might I ask a question, Friend Terry?”

”Sure, Mother. You seem full of questions, but go ahead,” Friend Terry said.

”Why did the Mad Arch-Angel TerraSol remake you like this? Did you displease her? Did you please her? Were you specially chosen or was it just at random?” Mother asked.

There was silence for a long moment.

”I wasn't really doing anything with my life. I was about thirty years old when the Mar-gite invaded, started stripping whole planets of protein. It was the day of the my thirty-second birthday when it was discovered that the Mar-gite were eating us. Slowly. Like a starfish does. That the human was alive the entire time the Mar-gite devoured them,” there was an odd noise that Nemta almost turned to look at but he was still annoyed with the little green insect.

”A friend of mine, well, a StellarNet friend mostly but we visited each other and we lived together for a couple of years, he lived on one of the worlds that Mar-gite had invaded. I hadn't heard from him, then I find out that the Mar-gite, well, they eat humans,” Friend Terry's voice didn't sound sad or distressed like Nemta thought it would.

He sounded angry.

”So I went down to the recruiting station. Took the tests. Signed up for the Marines,” there was a bitter, angry laugh. ”I could have signed up for anything, my test scores were that good. Instead I took Marine Rifleman. I wanted to avenge my friend on a hateful universe.”

There was a crunching sound, the sound of heavy feet on the grass and twigs on the ground.

”After a while I volunteered for Full Conversion,” Friend Terry said. ”For an ugly reason, though. The Corps psychologists knew the reason though.”

Mother's voice was soft. ”What was the reason, Friend Terry. You may confide in me, your mother, beneath the eyes of the Lady of Bloody TerraSol.”

”Armor and rifles, they're at a distance. Full conversion, we get up close and in the face,” Terry said softly. ”We were going to be landing on my friend's world. Liberate it.”

There was silence for a moment, even the praying was silent.