“It’s too early for them to be snooping around. I was thinking of something like… oh… slipping a little something lively into his notes.”
“Dungar’s notes? The ones he’s read so many times he doesn’t really need them?”
“We must show respect for our instructors,” said Tadmur. As bulky as most heavyworlders, he took up more than his share of the wardroom, and sat stiffly erect. The others groaned, as they usually did. Sass wondered if he could really be that serious all the time.
“I show respect,” said Pardis, rolling his green eyes wickedly. “Just the same as you, every day - “
“You make fun of him for his consistency.” Tadmur’s Vrelan accent gave his voice even more bite. “Consistency is good.”
“Consistency is dull. Consistently wrong is stupid - “ Pardis broke off suddenly and sprang to his feet as the door swung open without warning, and the senior monitor’s grim face appeared around it. This weekend, the duty monitor was another heavyworlder, from Tadmur’s home planet.
“You were lounging on the deck again, Mr. Pardis, weren’t you?” The monitor didn’t wait for the reply and went on: “The usual for you, and one for each of these for not reminding you of your duty.” He scowled at Tadmur. “I’m surprised atyou most of all.” Tadmur flushed, but said nothing more than the muttered “Sir, yes, sir” that regulations required.
Sassinak even made some progress with Tadmur and Seglawin, the two heavyworlders in her unit. When they finally opened up to her, she began to realise that the heavyworlders felt deep grievances against the other human groups in FSP.
“They want us for our strength,” Tadmur said. “They want us to fetch and carry. You look at the records - the transcripts of the Seress expedition, for instance. How often do you think the med staff is assigned heavy duty, eh? But Parrih, not only a physician but a specialist, a surgeon, was expected to do the heavy unloading and loading in addition to her regular medical work.”
“They like to think we’re stupid and slow.” Seglawin took up the complaint. Although not quite as large as Tadmur, she was far from the current standard of beauty, and with her broad forehead drawn down into a scowl looked menacing enough. Sass realised suddenly that she had beautiful hair, a rich wavy brown mass that no one noticed because of the heavy features below it. “Pinheads, they call us, and muscle-bound. I know our heads look little, compared to our bodies, but that’s illusion. Look how surprised the Commandant was when I won the freshmen history prize: ‘Amazingly sensitive interpretation for someone of your background.’ I know what that means. They think we’re just big dumb brutes, and we’re not.”
Sass looked at them, and wondered. Certainly the heavyworlders in the slave center had been sold as cheap heavy labor, and none had been in any of her tech classes. She’d assumed they weren’t suited for it, just as everyone said. But in the Academy, perhaps five percent of the cadets were heavyworlders, and they did well enough in classwork. The two heavyworlders looked at each other, and then back at Sass. Seglawin shrugged.
“At least she’s listening and not laughing.”
“I don’t - “ Sass began, but Tad interrupted her.
“You do, because you’ve been taught that. Sass, you’re fair-minded, and you’ve tried to be friendly. But you’re a lightweight, and reasonably pretty enough, to your race’s standard. You can’t know what it’s like to be treated as a - a thing, an animal, good for nothing but the work you can do.”
It was reasonable, but Sass heard the whine of self-pity under the words and was suddenly enraged. “Oh, yes, I do,” she heard herself say. Their faces went blank, the smug blankness that so many associated with heavyworlder arrogance, but she didn’t stop to think about it. “I was a slave,” she said crisply, biting off the words like so many chunks of steel. “I know exactly how it feels to be treated as a thing: I was sold, more than once, and valued on the block for the work I could do.”
Seglawin reacted first, blankness then a surging blush. “Sass! I didn’t - “
“You didn’t know, because I don’t want to talk about it.” Rage still sang in her veins, lifting her above herself.
“I’m sorry,” said Tad, his voice less hard than she’d ever heard it. “But maybe you do understand.”
“You weren’t slaves,” Sass said. “You don’t understand. They killed my family: my parents, my baby sister. My friends and their parents. And I will get them - “ Her voice broke, and she swallowed, fighting tears. They waited, silent and immobile but no longer seeming inert. “I will get them,” Sass continued finally. “I will end that piracy, that slavery, every chance I get. Whether it’s lights or heavies or whoever else. Nothing’s worse than that. Nothing.” She met their eyes, one and then the other. “And I won’t talk about it again. I’m sorry.”
To her surprise, they both rose, and gave a little bow and odd gesture with their hands.
“No, it’s our fault.” Seglawin’s voice had a burr in it now, her accent stronger. “We did not know, and we agree: nothing’s worse than that. Our people have suffered, but not that. We fear that they might, and that is the source of our anger. You understand; you will be fair, whatever happens.” She smiled, as she offered to shake hands, the smile transforming her features into someone Sass hoped very much to have as a friend.
Other times, more relaxed times, followed. Sass learned much about the heavyworlders’ beliefs. Some reacted to the initial genetic transformations that made heavyworld adaptation possible with pride, and considered that all heavyworlders should spend as much time as possible on high-gravity planets. Others felt it a degradation, and sought normal-G worlds where they hoped to breed back to normal human standards. All felt estranged from their lighter-boned distant relations, blamed the lightweights - at least in part - for that estrangement, and resented any suggestion that their larger size and heavier build implied less sensitivity or intelligence.
Cadet leave, at the end of that first session, brought her home to Abe’s apartment in uniform, shy of his reaction and stiff with pride. He gave her a crisp salute and then a bear hug.
“You’re making it fine,” he said, not waiting for her to speak. Already, she recognized in herself and in his reactions the relationship they would have later.
“I hope so.” She loosened the collar of the uniform and stretched out on the low divan. He took her cap and set it carefully on a shelf.
“Making friends, too?”
“Some.” His nod encouraged her, and she told him about the heavyworlders. Abe frowned.
“You want to watch them; they can be devious.”
“I know. But - “
“But they’re also right. Most normals do think of them as big stupid musclemen, and treat them that way. Poor sods. The smart ones resent it, and if they’re smart enough they can be real trouble. What you want to do, Sass, is convince ‘em you’re fair, without giving them a weak point to push on. Their training makes ‘em value strength and endurance over anything else.”
“But they’re not all alike.” Sass told him all she’d learned, about the heavyworld cultures. “ - and I wonder myself if the heavyworlders are being used by the same bunch who are behind the pirates and slavers,” she finished.
Abe had been setting out a cold meal as she talked. Now he stopped, and leaned on the table. “I dunno. Could be. But at least some of the heavyworlders are probably pirates themselves. You be careful.” Sass didn’t argue; she didn’t like the thought that Abe might have his limitations; she needed him to be all-knowing, for a long time yet. On the other hand, she sensed, in her heavyworlder friends, the capacity for honesty and loyalty, and in herself an unusual ability to make friends with people of all backgrounds.