Language Barrier

The dusty road twisted up the valley ahead of the fourteen ghostly figures that trudged toward TeY-YahN Yoh-LahM Village. Hexagonal panels on each of the TASA Marines’ vacuum-sealed combat suits shimmered in hues of brown and beige, giving the Marines an ethereal appearance as they blended into the arid terrain behind them. From a distance, the staggered column might have looked like the spirits of fallen soldiers haunting that remote stretch of Mars’ Mariner Valleys. Up close, however, the Marines of 1st Battalion’s Full Spectrum Reconnaissance Detachment had no trouble seeing each other, even without their augmented heads up displays which identified every friendly unit in the valley. The Marines’ long loping steps belied the mass of all the armor, ammunition, and equipment they carried about their persons. With the force of Martian gravity close to a third of Earth’s, what would be a grueling uphill march back on Terra barely raised a sweat for the Marines on a counterinsurgency mission in Hwasong’s Kandoor Province.
As the ghostly apparitions neared the pockmarked and crumbling clay walls of the village, they seemed to abruptly halt and kneel into a more defensive posture. Once everyone had had time to scan their sectors of fire, Sergeant Cameron Blake gave the squad’s next directive over their private radio channel, “Alright, REDCAM off, people.”
“I hate dropping our camo,” Lance Corporal Graves lamented as she keyed in a command on her suit’s wrist interface, “It feels like we’re inviting the Az-holes to ambush us.”
“You know the camo’s processor goes all hinky indoors,” Sergeant Blake said as his suit froze in the last pattern it processed, “We don’t need to turn into trippy light shows and scare off the locals before we get a chance to even talk to them.”
“Besides,” Corporal Anika Iversson, the team’s second-in-command, added, “We’ve got a full platoon of infantry watching our backs. If anyone wants to hit us they’re going to have to go through four dozen heavily armed grunts first.”
To emphasize her point, Corporal Iverson waved to the cliffs above where her Heads Up Display told her a squad of infantry Marines from 3-1 Bravo Company kept overwatch on the high ground.
“Maybe so,” Graves replied, “But I’d feel better with Lopez up there with his railgun any day of the week.”
Graves and Lance Corporal Jake Lopez silently exchanged a long distance fist bump across the space between them as they knelt a few meters apart. Throughout the long march up to the village, the Marines habitually kept enough distance from each other to prevent a lucky grenade or remote explosive from taking out more than one or two of them in the event of an ambush.
“Well it’s all hands on deck for this one,” Blake said, “Bravo company lost three Marines to an Azpiran ambush last week, and they turned this place upside down looking for them. Didn’t even find a weapon bigger than an Open Source Rifle. This is a damn near box canyon, so we need to figure out how the insurgents are slipping our net.”
“Well then I hope they try to amboosh us,” Specialist Chol Av Zuluni, one of the team’s two Hwasongi interpeters said, “So we can fuck them up!”
Several of the Marines chuckled at Av Zuluni’s bravado, including Sergeant Blake, until he composed himself and continued to brief his team, “It’d be better if we find out where they’re coming from first, so we’re going to meet with the village Dooktar and see what he knows. I’ll be primary on the meeting, Charlie, you take lead on interpreting.
Specialist Av Zuluni took a moment to recognize the code name he had adopted to protect his identity, “Uh, yeah, copy surgent.”
“Cherry, Du, BB, and Sharif, you’ll be secondary with me, so masks off when we get inside.”
“No girls allowed?” Graves asked wryly.
“You know how fucked up the Martians’ culture is when it comes to women,” Sergeant Blake’s tone shifted to apologetic, “Uh, no offense, Av Z’s.”
“None taken,” Specialists Av Zuluni and Av Zamarin answered in unison.
“Anyways, the rest of you get to look tough and pull security. Romeo,” Blake addressed his other interpreter, “I want you to hang back with them and observe. Stay buttoned up and stick to the squad-net so you can point out anything we miss.”
The battle scars on the village walls could have dated back to any of the wars of the past several decades, but once the Marines made it past the gate, the damage from the more recent fighting became apparent. Fresh bullet holes criss crossed the metal pre-Hab structures nearest to the road. Shattered windows and craters marked the areas where roadside Remote Explosive Devices had been triggered. A mud-brick structure overlooking a fork in the road had been caved in by a precision orbital rail gun strike, TASA’s answer to the Azpiran’s decision to use it as their base of fire.
A number of villagers in thick, insulated, oojibog suits sifted through the rubble of the ruined building, while others tended to the damage to their own homes. Though the traditional oojibog suit wasn’t pressurized like the Marines’ Vacuum Combat Armor, many of the laborers wore respirators as they hefted bricks and other debris. The genetically enhanced Hwasongi villagers could easily breathe in the thin Martian air that would asphyxiate the Marines within minutes, but between the village’s altitude in the valley and the extra exertion from working, the locals weren’t taking chances.
* * *
The Dooktar’s residence was a modest mud-brick cottage butted up against the more ornately decorated Temple to Hana where he gave spiritual guidance to the people of his village. The elderly Dooktar waited on his front stoop in a pastel blue oojibog that was more formal than the earth-toned suits worn by the laborers in town and the two younger men behind him. The heavy padded suit sagged off of his gaunt frame, giving the appearance of a sage monk’s robes, if monks’ robes were made from down comforters.
The elder extended his right hand in a broad wave, sweeping it in front of him before bringing it into a tight fist at his heart in a traditional greeting.
“ahN-YohNg-Ha-SeY-oh,” the Dooktar rasped out.
Sergeant Blake didn’t need an interpreter to understand the traditional greeting, a holdover from Korean. Lieutenant Park had helped him get the pronunciation right during their month long trip out from Earth. He mimed the Dooktar’s gesture and repeated the greeting, “Annyeonghaseyo.”
the Dooktar raised his hands in a sweeping gesture toward the rest of town.
“His name is Dooktar Mav Yoo and he says welcome to the village,” Av Zuluni said.
“ Thank you for meeting with us, esteemed Dooktar,” Sergeant Blake said, bowing his head slightly.

The Dooktar smiled politely then gestured to his door,
“He wants us to continue inside where it is more comfortable, and his wife is making dinner for us.”
Blake nodded and motioned his Marines to follow as the Dooktar limped into the house, “Wilson, Peralta, post up on the door.”
The two Marines acknowledged and stood guard on the stoop while everyone else funneled into the Dooktar’s foyer. It was a tight fit for a dozen Marines in full armor and three Martians in oojibogs that were almost as bulky. Lopez was the last Marine in, closing the door behind him. Despite the risk of cutting off their exit, sealing the door was the only way to allow the room to serve its secondary purpose as an airlock.
In anticipation of the Terran Marines’ arrival, the Dooktar had pumped his house full of extra air. The air rushing from the interior door blasted the loose dust off of their bodies with all of the force of a mild gust of wind as the pressure gradient between the two rooms equalized. Sergeant Blake watched his suit’s sensors as the air pressure leveled out to just under 60 kpa. Not optimal, but definitely tolerable for the duration of the meeting.
Blake exhaled and popped open his suit’s mask. The stale, metallic taste of recycled air was replaced by a cocktail of competing smells ranging from sweat and feet to the sour and garlicky scents of Martian cooking. The Marines Blake had singled out earlier followed suit, letting their masks hang in front of them in case they needed to quickly seal back up in an emergency. The rest of the Marines stayed masked, all except for the two Marine interpreters who, just like their Hwasongi brethren, hadn’t needed respirators in the first place.
The Dooktar’s spacious living room was a more comfortable fit for the group. Dooktar Mav Yoo took his customary place at the head of the low table. Sergeant Blake stood at the opposite end, with Specialist Av Zuluni at his right, and the other four unmasked Marines filled in on either side. No one sat on the provided cushion seats until the Dooktar grabbed the table to keep his balance as he slowly took his seat. Sinking to the floor to grab a seat was awkward for the armored Marines, but Blake imagined that flimsy chairs built for the lanky Martians would provide their own problems to his Marines in their heavy suits.
* * *
The elderly village Dooktar stroked his long silver beard thoughtfully as he pondered Sergeant Blake’s question. He clasped his bony ochre hands together and closed his eyes as he spoke in a preaching tone, “”
Av Zuluni took a moment to process the Dooktar’s words, then turned to Sergeant Blake seated at the opposite end of the table: “Surgen, he says... I think he says they are having a problem with Chimera Hounds attacking their Chimerox at night.”
Sergeant Blake tried to blink away the annoyance from his expression, “Charlie, can you tell him to please stay on topic. If he wants to discuss domestic issues, that’s for Captain Kowalski to deal with when he comes through. Tell him three Marines died in the fighting here last week and we need to know where the Azpiran are coming from.
“No, wait,” Specialist Av Zamarin interjected, “He isn’t complaining about the hounds. It is an expression. A fable. He says when we go there is no one to protect them. The Azpiran will come back tonight and kill anyone who cooperated with us.”
“Alright…” It wasn’t ideal, but at least it was a starting point, “Charlie, tell him ‘We understand, but we can’t stay for protection. If we did that for you, we’d have to do that for every village, and we don’t have enough Marines for that.”
Av Zuluni relayed,
The Dooktar raised a hand, pausing the discussion. He turned to the door behind him where a person encased in a dark green female-style Oojibog suit with gold trim stood in the doorway.
The woman in green emerged with a pitcher to refill their steel cups, while a smaller woman wearing an Oojibog in the same light blue as the Dooktar’s began to clear away the remnants of their communal meal. Blake could still taste the lingering garlic flavor of the chimerox bulgogi.
The woman in green poured first for Dooktar Mav Yoo as the host, then to Blake as the honored guest, before she went around the table. She then offered to the fully suited Marines standing along the wall like suits of armor in a medieval castle. Each of them politely refused just as they had to all the other refreshments offered throughout the night, having no way to drink or eat without unmasking and letting their guard down.
“Look,” Sergeant Blake said, “All we need to know is where the Azpiran are coming from. It is the only way to make the village safe.”
Av Zuluni echoed,
Out of the corner of his eye, Blake noticed the woman linger in front of Lance Corporal Graves, who stood closest to the door and furthest from the Dooktar. She seemed to stare into Graves’ mask, perhaps recognizing that the eyes under the depolarized lenses belonged to another woman. “Tak,” the woman said softly.
“aH-Lee,” Dooktar Mav Yoo said,
The woman scurried away as Blake wondered if his interest in the interaction might have offended the Dooktar.
“Tak?” Graves asked on the squad channel, “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Specialist Av Zamarin said, “It is weird.”
Dooktar Mav Yoo cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Sergeant Blake,
“He said that he doesn’t know where the hounds… the Azpiran live,” Specialist Av Zuluni struggled to parse the idioms, “But that they will know if the village helped us. They want to just stay out of your fight.”
“Dooktar, with all due respect, by letting them attack us from your village, you’re already in the fight. We don’t want to bring the fighting here, but if they launch missiles at us from your homes, from your windows, we’ll have no choice but to defend ourselves.”
Av Zuluni hesitated, as if afraid to finish the statement,
As the Dooktar and Sergeant Blake continued to debate, the two women from before returned with steaming kettles of sweetmoss tea. The presumably younger woman poured for the Dooktar and his seated guests, while the woman in green again offered to serve the standing Marines. She once again stopped in front of Graves and tried to shove a cup of tea into her bulky, gloved hands.
“I think she likes you, Gravedigger,” Lopez teased.
“Paleez,” the woman said awkwardly, “Yoo mee tak.”
“Sorry, Nee…” Graves said, gently shoving the cup back, “Romeo, what is she saying?”
“It is not Marineri,” he said, “I think maybe she is trying English.”
“Sergeant?” Graves said, “I think… I think this woman wants to talk to us in private.”
The woman waited at the door, out of the Dooktar’s line of sight, but seemingly begging with her eyes for someone to follow.
“I don’t like this,” Corporal Iversson said warily.
Sergeant Blake begged the Dooktar for a moment, then raised his mask so he could talk on the squad channel, “Romeo, what’s your read on it?”
“I don’t know, Sergeant. I don’t think she is dangerous, but we cannot abandon the meeting with the Dooktar for a house wooman. It would be disrespectful.”
“I’m getting nowhere with this guy,” Blake said, “Ivy, Graves, Tuala, if you can, try to get back there inconspicuously. Romeo, go with them.”
“I don’t think inconspicuous is possible, Sarn’t,” Graves said, “We’re kind of hard to miss.”
Private Tuala, who had been keeping to herself in the corner of the room, stepped forward and pulled off her mask before she blurted out a phrase in stilted Marineri,
An awkward silence filled the air as the room locked eyes on her. Several of the Marines broke into laughter once the stocky Samoan Marine emphasized her question by pointing to herself, then down at her suit’s crotch as she squirmed uncomfortably.
“Goddamn, Tuala, that’s some quick thinking,” Blake praised, “Dooktar, it it’s not too much trouble, can your wife show my female Marine where the restroom is?”
Av Zuluni blushed as he relayed the question. Dooktar Mav Yoo, apparently unaware of the waste disposal mechanisms built into the Marines’ undersuits, obliged the request. Though somewhat skeptical, he also agreed to let Iverson and Graves go with her for security, and Specialist Av Zamarin to interpret.
, the woman in green gasped with elation once they were far enough from the door. The woman in green led them down the hall to a back room with an inscription above the door. Inside the small shared bedroom, the younger woman in blue and another woman in a burgundy Oojibog were in the middle of shedding their bulky suits and letting down their matted hair as the Marines arrived. Underneath, they wore considerably more comfortable-looking jumpsuits that hung loosely from their slender forms.
Specialist Av Zamarin blushed and shuffled back from the door, “I am sorry, Corporal, I can’t go with you. She is taking you to ... it is... like wooman’s private space. I am not allowed.”
“Well dammit,” Iversson hissed, “How the hell are we supposed to talk to them?”
“Don’t look at me,” Tuala shrugged, “My language skills stop with ‘hello,’ ‘don’t move,’ and ‘where’s the bathroom?’.
“I have an idea,” Graves said excitedly, “We’ll keep an open mic so Av Za-- Romeo can listen in and tell us what they’re saying.”
Av Zamarin pondered for a moment then nodded, “Roger. This will work.”
“But how do we respond, then?” Iversson asked.
“Tell me what you want to say in English, then repeat what I say, exactly how I say it.”
“Alright,” Iversson patted Av Zamarin on the shoulder, “But go real slow for us, alright bud?”
“Aye, corporal.”
The woman in green, now without her helmet-like hood, smiled warmly as she swept her arm out and back to her heart in the traditional greeting,
Corporal Iversson didn’t need to wait for Av Zamarin to understand the common greeting, though she did need his help with the response, “And you as well, My name is Annika… um… Annika.”
said the woman in green.
chirped the wide eyed girl in blue that probably would have been a young teen in Earth years.
“TeY-MiN,” the third woman blurted as her piercing green eyes seemed unblinking as she stared at the three Marines.
“aH-Lee is the wife of the Dooktar,” Av Zamarin explained, “Mee-Ree their daughter.”
“What is it you wanted to speak to us about?” Iversson asked, then a moment later,
aH-Lee said.
Mee-Ree added.
TeY-MiN said emphatically.
“They want to tell you where the Azpiran are.”
aH-Lee explained, “Azpiran, President KiM, you, it does not matter.>
Mee-Ree said, looking up to her mother.
“The men don’t care who is in charge. Azpiran, the government, or TASA, all the same to them.”
TeY-MiN said with a sudden intensity that made her compatriots jump
aH-Lee tried to calm TeY-MiN, no doubt so that her shouts wouldn’t draw the Dooktar’s attention.
“The Azpiran misrepresent Hana’s will,” Av Zamarin explained, “It is important to protect the women, for they are the key to our future. They say that women must be protected from the world by being sheltered from it.”
“That’s disgusting,” Graves said, “”
Mee-Ree said, a quiver in her voice,
TeY-MiN spoke next, her eyes softening as she spoke,
aH-Lee put her hand on TeY-MiN’s shoulder,
“I’m hearing a lot of squawking and not enough translating, Romeo,” Iversson said.
“Sorry corporal. It is a lot to process. Mee-Ree says the Azpiran destroy the schools so women can only learn what is in the Codex. TeY-MiN says that her husband was executed for letting her travel to market without escort. They would have taken her away but the Dooktar took her on as his wife.
“I thought aH-Lee was his wife.”
“Yes, she is too. Marrying the Dooktar saved her from the Azpiran. They would have stripped her of her family name and taken her away to be reeducated.”
“Those misogynist bastards,” Graves growled.
“” Av Zamarin paused, “I am sorry, I do not know the word misog-”
“Don’t worry about that,” Iversson said cutting him off, “Just tell them we want to help. We will get rid of these bad men for you.”
Av Zamarin instructed,
aH-Lee gently nudged her daughter forward, who began to speak as tears welled up from a painful memory,
aH-Lee wrapped her Oojibog-covered arms around her daughter as Mee-Ree broke into sobs.
“Mee-Ree went to the school in village,” Av Zamarin said somberly, “She was late to class, and she sees the fire from the school when the Azpiran burned it down. The four Azpiran terrorists come up the road in a rover and take her backpack. They say she is alive because of Hana’s will, or she would have been killed with her school friends.”
Iversson bit back her rage, and continued the interview, “aH-Lee, Mee-Ree, I am so sorry. Does Mee-Ree remember anything about the rover? What color it was? Where it came from?”
aH-Lee answered after Iversson worked through the translation, . He owned a Black Root farm north of the village by the canals. He got sick in the spring after the army came and burned his crop. Hana bring him peace.>
“The rover belonged to a Black Root farmer who lived north of town. He died after the HNA burned the crops. I think maybe he inhaled the root ash?” Av Zamarin’s speculation made sense. Black Root was a potent narcotic that was dangerous in high doses.
TeY-MiN added, < I saw men going from his barn to the canals. I helped eZ-TehR hide then I went to look. The men were going from the irrigation tunnels to the barn. They were carrying heavy things. I think it was weapons. I brought her here to hide the rest of the night. After the fighting we went back to the farm and all of the men were gone. They were not from the village.>
Corporal Iversson took out a small handheld projector and pointed it at the ground. In the dimly lit room, the holographic depiction of the valley washed the room in a blue glow, “Can you show me where this farm is? And the irrigation tunnels?”
aH-Lee and TeY-MiN took turns pointing out the various
“Thank you,”
aH-Lee said,
TeY-MiN added.
“They say they want to be free to serve Hana’s will in the way of their choosing. They want to be teachers or soldiers like you.”
“Marines, not soldiers,” Graves corrected.
“Graves, not now…” Iversson hissed.
“Sorry to interrupt ladies,” Sergeant Blake said over the squad channel, “But we’ve gotta wrap this up. Our security is getting restless with their asses in the wind for so long, and The Dooktar wants to get us out of his hair.”
“Don’t worry Cam, we’ve got what we came for,” Iversson replied, then mused to herself, “Hell hath no fury…”