by Chris Hechtl
He snorted at the idea. The kids were part feral; his eyes caught them talking in sign language and using yips as well as other sounds or exchanged looks. They rarely spoke. When their leader snapped his fingers though, they obeyed. Sudden disorder turned into a line of kids as the elder teens took a firm hand. A few held hands as they got washed up for what was probably the first time in weeks or months.
“Sir, the clothes situation …”
“Yeah, I knew I was forgetting something. I don't think BDUs will cut it with the little ones,” the captain said, turning as he pinged the supply private left in charge, then Sergeant Blanchard. Blanchard was supposed to be off duty; one of them had to be on for graveyard monitoring after all. But in this case, a heads-up was definitely advisable, if the good sergeant didn't already know.
^<(>^<)>^
Since the locals weren't in any tearing hurry to come rescue the kids, the captain wasn't sure what to do with them, nor did Lieutenant Chaing or their intel officer, Ensign Lexi Myers. Myers was a good woman but green. Protodon was her second assignment, and she seemed wary, eager, and all too aware of the possibility of screwing up.
He could work with the first and the last. The middle one demanded a level of patience he wasn't sure he had. Not when that woman got on a roll he thought, eying her as the trio of officers met.
They were still waiting on orders from higher. According to satellite coverage, there was no pirate life signs in their AO so higher-up wasn't in any tearing hurry to evacuate the civilians and dump them on someone else's lap. Lucky them. For the moment they were his headache, one he would fondly get rid of if he could. Just the food the kids were liable to suck up was giving him nasty visions of additional paperwork.
The ensign, however, took their situation as a challenge. That was good; she was out of the hair of the radio room geeks for the moment. Breathing down the necks of everyone there had frayed a few nerves. But he'd repeatedly cautioned her to tread carefully as far as the kids were concerned. Don't press, just let them to open up when they are ready.
In the meantime, he had the good lieutenant's abbreviated report to deal with.
“So, no Horathians. But I need your troop back out on patrol, Lieutenant,” the captain said shaking his head. “From what you two and higher-up is telling me, either they slipped past us somehow, maybe in that fold between the hills to the northeast, or El Diablo got them and didn't leave bodies behind. And from the sound of it, it's the monster everyone's scared shitless of.”
“Come on, boss …,” the lieutenant said with a put-upon expression. “Hey, it's something; I've seen it.” He was referring to an incident a few weeks back when something or someone had torn apart a camp. The marines had arrived on scene and had given chase to something letting off blood curdling screams of anger that had given a few of them nightmares later. It had obviously gotten away, and that had spooked them as much as the screams had. The thing had been practically taunting them, and with their advanced training and gear, they should have been two steps ahead of it.
That was enough to give any marine the willies. And since his squad hadn't been shy about spreading the details, just about every squad was on edge about the thing.
“And we've seen your video as well as by now everyone in the damn platoon and possibly the brigade,” the captain said wearily. “A dark image of motion isn't seeing it.”
The intelligence officer agreed. “Here,” she said, waving a tablet eagerly. The two senior officers turned to her. “I've got it. I've done some enhancements,” she showed them a video on her tablet instead of uploading the file to their implants. It was still grainy, and she didn't have much. Wings, a small frame, but no color. Unfortunately, by the time the lieutenant had called out the contact to the rest of his people, El Diablo had gotten deeper into the brush and put enough trees and foliage between them to keep from getting a proper sighting. Thermal profile was almost nonexistent; by the time it had come online, the creature or being had climbed a tree. No one else had gotten a good look; apparently they'd all been focused on the ground and threats coming at them, not running away.
“We were looking in the wrong place,” Lieutenant Chaing said, swearing as he took the tablet from the lieutenant. “You got this from our feed?”
“Your feed, no. Sergeant Blanchard, yes.”
“Ah. But she only got a small piece. Is there enough to put the pieces together? You know, like a puzzle? Build a profile at least?”
“I'm working on it. When I have it, I'll let you know, and we'll put a BOLO out,” the lieutenant said as she took the tablet back.
One of the kids saw them and looked up in curiosity.
“I think you kids should go play,” the intel officer said, shooing the kid out. “Go find a ball or something,” she said.
The boy gave her a baleful look before taking himself off with an air of disdain.
The captain sighed. The lieutenant had a bit to learn about making connections with the natives, but he understood her viewpoint. “Those kids have seen enough—enough war, enough death to last a life time—and way too much of our operations for me to be comfortable with security.”
“When are they going, sir?” the lieutenant asked carefully.
The intel officer cocked her head, also interested in the answer. She'd hoped to draw more of them out to get the details of her report straight since so many of their stories were conflicting with one another.
“When a social worker comes for them,” Captain Lyon replied with a grimace of distaste. He shook his head. “Gods of space knows when that'll happen. The government practically doesn't exist. Normally orphans are left on the street.”
“Sir, about that …”
The captain scowled blackly at the lieutenant. “Son, you can't tow a group of foundlings around, Lieutenant. Not into combat! Pass them on to the authorities and then they are their problem.”
“Sir, I gave them my word that they wouldn't be broken up. That's the only way they would come in and cooperate.” The lieutenant was obviously distressed about having his honor tested.
“Well, most likely they will be broken up to go to various orphanages or to surviving family. No one place will be able to support them, and they are pretty feral. Either way, it's not our problem. Tracking the pirates and this El Diablo is. Stay on mission.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the lieutenant replied with a deadened voice. It sounded like he'd just heard his dog die.
^<(>^<)>^
Each of the kids underwent a basic health checkup with the corpsman. A little pigtailed girl with a cute teddy caught her attention. The girl was terribly shy, but from her quick glances, the woman had noted she had arresting golden eyes and feline ears. One ear was perfectly shaped; the other ear had been docked and cut up into a ragged mess. “This is a bloody mess,” she murmured, tisk tisking. “I'll need to clean it to make sure it's not infected,” she said.
The girl whimpered, ducking her head.
“Well, I can't get at it with your head down like that. It might be infected or swollen. I'm here to help, honest,” the corpsman said softly, trying to keep her exasperation in check. As a navy medic, she'd learned to deal with a lot of situations, but the kids were damn near overwhelming. At least with a marine, you could shame them into being stoic.
The girl tilted her head down, nuzzling the bear. That exposed the ragged ear so the medic dabbed some antiseptic on the wound. The girl winced but didn't turn away or hide the ear.
“Okay, I'm going to mist you with a local. That will deaden any pain and then I can fix this up a bit. You'll need to see a real doc to get it fixed. Do you want it even or back like it was?” she asked.
The girl snuffled. “Just don't want it to hurt,” she said quietly.
“Hmmm … okay. Well, I suppose that part I can do then,” the medic replied, misting the ear with a topical anesthetic. The anesthetic had some additional antiseptic qualities. She fought an indrawn hiss as she saw how ragged the wound was. The ear w
ounds had been closed up with what looked like a stapler, possibly an earring punch; she wasn't sure.
“So … how'd this happen? If you don't mind my asking I mean. I'm Alley by the way. They call me Alley Cat,” she said.
The girl looked up to her then went back to nuzzling her bear.
“Quiet kid,” the medic murmured as she worked. She felt for her.
“That's because she's learned,” another young girl said. Alley turned to her. “She won't talk, not much, sometimes not for a day or more.”
“I'm guessing something bad happened, huh?” the medic asked, feeling her own helpless fury return. “Sometimes talking about it helps to … get that tight feeling out. But only when she's ready,” she said. “I see she's still set in her ways. Cute little kid though. Why they'd do that to you …,” she shook her head in disgust.
The little girl looked up to her. “Sorry if I sound mad. I'm not mad at you, honey, I'm mad at the people who did that. I'd love to be there when we settle accounts with them,” she said.
The girl's eyes locked onto hers. After a moment she nodded once then ducked her head again to let her continue to work.
“Her mom was raped,” the other girl said, coming over. She took the chimera girl's hand and stroked it gently. Her free hand caressed the ear of the bear, then poked the girl on the tip of the nose. The girl batted her hands away.
Alley was taken aback by how adult the first girl had made that statement. With a sinking heart, she realized the kids had lost some of their childhood. It wasn't fair, but it was war.
“They did some nasty things to her mom. She was hiding nearby. Something gave her away, and they dug her out. They grabbed her ear and dragged her out, that part we know. Apparently she fought and bit one of them.”
“Good for her. I hope she drew blood. Hell, I hope she chewed a finger off,” Alley growled, doing her best to finish up. The antibiotic spray would kill off any primary and secondary infections. Lancing the scab to let it ooze might be a wise thing to do to help get the puss out, but she wasn't sure how the girl would react so she held off.
“In the struggle her ear got ripped, but she got away,” the girl finished.
“I hope she kicked the bastard in the shin or the balls,” a nearby female MP growled.
The pigtailed girl looked up to the medic, then to the other adult nearby. Her gold eyes looked at the MP for a moment.
“I'm sorry, honey. Sorry about your mom and well … this. We'll do everything we can to make it right,” Alley said as the girl was distracted. She felt an urge and followed it. The woman hugged the girl, shocking her. She fought the unexpected smothering grip off, ducking under her arms and then into the crowd of kids and bodies.
“Damn,” Alley said, looking for the girl. The group closed ranks, blocking her view.
“Yeah, not good,” the other girl said, looking after her friend. “That could have gone better.”
“Yeah, it could have. She's … all of you deserved better,” Alley said, wiping at her eyes angrily. The young girl looked at her coldly, then away. After a moment she walked off as well.
^<(>^<)>^
When he wasn't monitoring the goings-on of the squads in the field or trying to unbury himself from the mountain of paperwork the home office seemed to dump on him on a regular basis, Captain Lyon tried to walk the camp every few hours. It was as much to stretch his legs as it was to get a handle on things, check the pulse of the morale, and talk to some of the guys and gals who were the true sharp end of the stick.
Along the way he added some social time with the kids. Not a lot, he was a busy man after all, but as much as he could tolerate before his internal nag guilt tripped him into going back to work. He felt torn and knew he would be glad when the waifs were safely tucked away under someone else's arm. He could ill afford the distraction.
The more he got to know them though, the more he appreciated their resilience and seeming zest for life. They were quite well organized; he admired that. He tried to get in with their leader, sort of help the young man adapt, but he wasn't having any of it.
When he wasn't off somewhere high watching the group, camp, and perimeter or in some shadow somewhere lurking, the leader of the pack of feral kids always seemed to have kids around him. They were all respectful of him, mindful of his lofty position as leader.
The young man still kept to himself though and refused the clothes the marines had tried to give him. From what little bits of flesh that the captain had seen, he had milky pale skin and seemed to walk around with his arms crossed and a scowl.
But he never yelled. He found his own way to project his authority, and it was quite effective. He was a natural leader, and the captain mentally marked him down as potential officer material. But not for the future he reminded himself. If at all, he reminded himself as he watched the young man give orders softly and occasionally with hand gestures.
When the young man turned his head and looked at him through his dark sunglasses, the captain noted the speculative stare but only nodded respectfully in reply. After a moment the young man went back to dishing out orders.
A call from Bravo Squad forced the captain to stop his approach. All thoughts of the young man departed as Bravo called in a potential sighting of Horathians or their supporters in their quadrant.
^<(>^<)>^
Individually and then as a group in the mess tent, the kids were told about the New Federation. When a storm front came in lashing them with wind and rain, the marines put on their weather gear but confined the kids to the warmth and safety of the tents. They listened avidly on the benches as the MP charged with watching over them talked about the Federation and the marines to distract them. She took her time to define how they were different from the pirates.
Some of the marines in the mess heckled her for the lecture, others pitched in from time to time. A corporal brought in a holo projector to allow her to illustrate some of the concepts. The kids crowded in to see the seemingly magical device, much to the adult's amusement.
One little boy tried to wave the projection away, but his hand and arms passed through the projection of course. That earned a chuckle from some of the marines.
“See? We're here,” Corporal Naysmith said, pointing to a star map of Protodon. “Between us and the Horathian homeworld are these worlds. And then there are these worlds down here,” she said, pointing to blinking red and yellow icons.
“You've got to go to all of those planets?”
“Yeah. Well, not just me. There are other marines of course. And the navy provides the transport,” she said with a grin to her fellow marines.
“Yeah, that's about all they do. Chauffeur and point and tell us what to shoot at,” a PFC heckled.
“We're going to route them out eventually and then return things back to the Federation—back before the Xenos came, before the dark times. We're working hard to get there, but it's going to take time and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears I'm afraid.”
“You'll eventually go from here though?” a girl asked. She turned to Polly. “You were right.”
“We will; we have other worlds and people to save,” the MP said, glancing at the girl she'd mentally tagged as a wanna-be-nurse. “But we're not going anywhere until we've gotten most of the ba … I mean bad men,” she finished. “Make sure it's safe for folks like you,” she said nodding the kids. If she expected applause, she was sorely disappointed.
“We've got … you know, let's see if we've got some stuff on Agnosta, before and after. Maybe some stuff … did you load this thing with images of Antigua?” she asked. “Wayne?”
“No,” the other corporal said, shaking his head. “Just a bit of news I don't think we should see now. Boring stuff,” he said hastily as the kids eyed him. “I can load some of the stuff from our brief stop in Kathy's World but …”
“Stop in Kathy's World?” Polly asked. She looked from one corporal to the other, then wrinkled her nose.
“It's an ice moon. It was being t
erraformed … look, hang on a sec,” Wayne took the controls and then pulled up an image of the moon. “It's a moon orbiting a gas giant. They are your neighbors sort of,” he explained. “The terraforming was half finished though, so it's back sliding into an ice age. Over half of the population is Neo.”
“What's wrong with that?” a boy challenged, lifting his chin as he rose off the bench.
Wayne looked up. “Not a thing, kid. Some of my best friends are Neos,” he said. “I'm just laying it out for ya,” he said. The boy seemed about ready to say something more, but one of the girls put a hand on his arm and pulled him back down to his seat.
“I've got a couple images … damn it,” the corporal sighed. “Well, I do but they aren't linking here since they are 2D. Anyway,” he said turning back to them. “Their leader, a sleeper named Major White Wolf …”
“A Neowolf, ancient one,” Naysmith supplied.
“Yeah,” Wayne drawled. “Anyway, she came here a while back—she and a force of Neos. See, she and the natives of that world managed to retake the planet from the pirates.”
The kids gasped and looked at him. He nodded soberly. “Yeah. They even captured the ship. See, the major is a marine. She's good. They elected her as president there. She came over here to lend a hand before she had to go home again.”
“Why'd she go back?” the boy asked. “The job's not done here!”
“Because we got here and she needed to go back and lead her people. Like your leader does,” Naysmith said as Wayne fumbled for a proper answer. That seemed to get the doubters to stop and think for a moment before they nodded. “Her people weren't fully trained. They managed to do a lot before we got here, and we're grateful. Some stuck around but most went back to their home to their families.”
She felt like kicking herself when she realized what she said. The last statement had gotten a few kids to look sad. “I'm, um, not sure if any of you have many family members here. Aunts, uncles … the government's supposed to look,” she said looking at Wayne. “A little help?” she asked weakly.