by Chris Hechtl
“Get back to work,” he barked at kids who nodded subdued and left the area at a trot. Even the little girl stopped crying, dashed her tears, and scrambled to obey.
The toys were left forgotten on the ground. The corporal looked at them for a long time wondering what else the kids had left behind in the damn war.
^<(>^<)>^
Blake saw the encounter and shook his head. The kids were just … standoffish. They were too insulated. The older teens were the parents; they looked out for the younger set and kept the routine going. The kids clung to their routine and rules since it gave them a framework for a sense of order after everything else that had gone wrong in their lives.
Anyone else would have come apart after all the hell the kids had seen. But they were resilient; he had to give them credit for that.
He'd tried to get in with the dogs; curiosity drove him. But they too were a pack, almost feral. They did not welcome outsiders. Anytime he or another marine got close, they got stared down or growled at. Since they were supposed to make nice with the kids, he tried not to pick a fight and actively avoided their area.
Still, their smell now that some of the stink was gone was familiar. The way they moved … odd. he shook his head.
“I've got perimeter duty,” Ck'ck'rr said, waving an upper arm to get his attention. “You listening?”
The brown Neomutt flicked his ears and then nodded. “Get anywhere with the kids?”
“I tried. You know how it is. I thought the Veraxin larvae would be easier, but they won't talk. They stick to each other or to the others,” the Veraxin buzzed, signaling second-level annoyance.
“Okay. I know the boss lady wants us to get them settled, but I guess it'll turn into someone else's problem.” He said as he heard a noise. PFC Orange was still pissed. “I'll go chat with Orange. Give him some time on the punching bag to work out his frustrations. Cover for me if I'm running late?”
“Yeah, sure. Just don't get too carried away. They are having honey teriyaki tonight.”
“Yeah, and I know you bugs love honey. I'll watch it,” the Neomutt replied with a nod.
The Veraxin nodded back and then ambled off. The dog watched him go with affectionate eyes briefly before he returned to the kids. None were in sight; all were going about their “duties.”
Which reminded him. He too had a duty, one he had to stick to. Just keeping up with the duties made it a pain in the ass to try to get closer to the kids. He, like a lot of the marines, was too tired; he shook himself. Look at him! He was a marine, and he was making excuses. He growled at himself in disgust as he took off after the PFC.
^<(>^<)>^
The senior staff saw the encounter from the HQ tent. The sergeant shook his head. “He's definitely the alpha male, they are … feral. It's not lord of the flies, more like a wolf pack.”
“True.”
“But he's going to get his ass whooped if he talks like that to someone else—someone like me or the captain. That'll destroy his leadership with the group. He's keeping aloof for the whole loneliness command horse shit,” the sergeant said in disgust.
“Don't be too sure. There is something about that kid. Remember, he's a survivor; they all are. They are brittle; some are breaking down now that they know they are safe,” the ensign reminded him.
“Yeah.”
The captain nodded. He for one wasn't quite ready to confront the young man.
The sergeant crossed his arms as he stared out at the quad. “Wanna bet he's a killer? He's not the only one in the group. I've seen some of the looks a few of the kids have had. Dead eyes, like they've seen the sharp end of the stick. I know that look,” the sergeant said as the intel officer opened her mouth to object. “They did what they had to to survive,” he said turning to the officers. She nodded once. “They are fiercely protective of their own. Gotta admire it. But I'm going to dance a jig when they are out of my hair once and for all,” the sergeant said with feeling.
“I thought one or two would make good marines. Weren't you recruiting a few? Wasn't that what Naysmith was doing?” the captain teased.
“This lot … I don't know. I just don't,” the sergeant said, looking away. “Don't get me wrong. They are disciplined; they know how to set a perimeter. They've got an uneasy situation awareness going on. Did you see the hand signs and hear the calls?” he asked.
The captain nodded thoughtfully. “Yes.”
“It's on par with our own. They can pass information from one end of the camp damn near as fast as we can send a radio signal I'm telling you. Nothing gets past them. I wouldn't be too surprised if we link some of the thefts to them.”
“Stealing to survive? But they don't have to here,” the intel officer stated. “Right?” she looked from one man to the other.
“Try telling them that. Some habits are hard to break,” the sergeant said.
“Okay. We'll keep an eye on them. Anything else, Sergeant?”
“Echo's past due in reporting in, sir,” the sergeant said, making a show of checking the chrono. “About five minutes over so far.”
“I'll give them another ten, then we can call before we send out a search party,” the captain said dryly. The sergeant nodded. “Okay, we'll check in later.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the sergeant said. He didn't about-face; he knew better than to do that in the field. But he did nod respectfully to each officer once sharply before he took himself off to other duties.
“Well, the good news is, the social worker is due to arrive tomorrow,” the ensign said once the sergeant had left.
The captain turned to her. “You're sure?” he asked carefully.
She nodded. “I checked with Bravo. Her carriage passed their checkpoint an hour ago, sir. No doubt she'll camp somewhere for the evening before heading the rest of the way in.”
Captain Lyon nodded, eying the kids. “Good. Very good.”
^<(>^<)>^
The local social worker Miss Trunchbull, who also happened to run the orphanage and school two towns over, came to them nearly a week later. The overweight, frumpy woman seemed put out over the journey and constantly complained about leaving her teenage assistants behind to manage the orphanage. The fact that her niece was managing the school as well wasn't something she seemed happy about. Apparently her little vacation out into the boonies hadn't been at all what she'd expected.
She hiked her dark maroon skirts up and seemed rather annoyed by everyone around her. She wasn't happy about the food or travel and made no bones about letting everyone around know that.
But it became apparent right off that she had another agenda. The kids were secondary to her checking out every male in the area. The sergeant noted it and snorted. The way many of the men avoided the woman was amusing as well. Apparently the woman had never learned to attract flies with honey not vinegar.
When she realized she wasn't getting anywhere with the soldiers, she turned her attention to what she had officially come for. She was immediately shocked by the sheer number of kids, their various ages and looks.
“My word, my word, so many? I can't take them all. No,” she said, shaking her head. The sergeant's heart sank as the lieutenant came over. “I thought there were one or two … children,” she said, looking at the lieutenant like he was a piece of meat. He flushed and looked away.
“I am dismayed by their deplorable condition. What have you been feeding them? Table scraps?” she tisked tisked.
“Field rations, MREs usually, ma'am, and whatever the mess tent puts out,” the sergeant said helpfully. It's far better than what they were getting scavenging for themselves,” she said.
The woman looked at the sergeant, sniffed in disdain then looked away.
The sergeant rolled her eyes to the lieutenant.
He was having trouble looking at the woman. He knew she was trying to land a marine. They'd gotten a word of warning that many native women were trying to do so to gain military aide and support or to get off world. Her shrewish nature was
a pain in the ass, but he had to deal with her.
He was just having trouble looking her in the face, what with all the moles and the nasty teeth.
“Well then, I suppose we'll have to do it then. We'll have to break the kids up to help get them civilized. It's the only way,” she said, eying a nearby group playing soccer.
“Ma'am, they have been virtually feral for some time. They have lived far too long on their own. We need to get them back to civilization—therapy definitely. A stable home environment …”
“You promised we'd be together!” the child behind them wailed. The lieutenant whirled and looked down chagrined.
“I did no such thing!” the woman said, taken aback as the captain came over. More and more of the kids were getting upset and turning accusing eyes on the marines.
“We had a deal!” the girl accused, hands on her hips as she glared at the lieutenant. When he didn't say anything, just looked uncomfortably away, she turned with a sniff and left. The lieutenant felt like a heel.
“Sir …,” he turned to the captain in appeal, but the senior officer shrugged.
“Out of our hands,” the captain warned, shaking his head, “and into hers.” He could see the lieutenant was on the verge of mutiny however. He had to get through to him and quickly.
The lieutenant's jaw worked. “Yes, sir. That doesn't mean I have to like it.”
“You're a soldier. Do your job.”
“Yes, sir. Lying to kids and breaking my honor. Sure thing, sir,” he ground out. He stalked off without being dismissed.
Captain Lyon winced but didn't say anything when the civilian woman turned a glower his way. He instead looked to the sergeant who was too busy pretending she didn't hear a thing. He saw her look, exhaled slowly, then settled himself. “Why don't we begin the interview process to sort this lot out. We have files we've assembled.”
“I'd prefer to get to know each child so I can build my own opinion,” the woman said with a sniff. She hiked up her skirts and left without another word.
^<(>^<)>^
As Miss Trunchbull pulled each child aside to interview them, Corporal Naysmith and Alley aghastly noted the woman was horrible. “Stand up straight, shoulders back, stomach in,” she snarled at a girl. The girl did her best to obey.
She berated the child when she didn't respond, then made some notes before she dismissed her. The next in line gulped. Garax moved forward but then froze. “Come, come, don't keep me waiting,” the woman growled shrewishly at the boy.
He seemed to collapse in a faint, not quite wilting so much as toppling over. “Now you're acting, you sniveling twit. I've never seen the like,” the woman said, coming over to toe the kid.
Captain Lyon had been passing nearby, when the kid went down, he pinged the corporal and Alley who had turned away and had missed the collapse. “He's having a seizure,” the captain noted, seeing the kid stiffen and shake. “Doc!” he called, looking for her as kids came out of nowhere at the sound of his upraised voice.
Doc Boy waded in instantly. “He's faking!” Miss Trunchbull snarled. “Just to get our sympathy,” she growled, “Get up, you sniveling twit.”
That was cut off as the other kids closed ranks. It seemed like a fight was brewing. The woman was bigger than most, but the cold looks stopped her in her tracks.
“Seizure. Another one,” Doc Boy said as he knelt next to the captain.
“See? They are fighting me! This is uncalled for! These heathens deserve to learn some manners!” the woman snarled.
“Clear the area,” the captain ordered as the young man with the broken glasses fished through his pockets for something.
“Is it bad?” the teenager named Polly demanded, over his shoulder.
“Bad enough. Can you keep the others back?” the captain said, looking back at her, but she'd already slipped around him to kneel with Doc Boy. He noted the kids had formed ranks around them. Some were looking worriedly over their shoulders, but others were stoically keeping people at bay, including Alley.
He turned back to see Doc Boy fish a syringe out of his pocket. He pulled the cap off, tapped it, got the air out with a gentle push of the plunger, then moved in.
“What is he doing?” the captain demanded. He reached out to stop him but a small hand clamped down on his arm. He looked over to see the teen female. She shook her head.
“He knows what to do. Let him,” Polly told him hoarsely.
“What's wrong?” the medic asked, still moving forward. The boy on the ground was still flopping around.
“He's having a seizure. He has epilepsy,” the girl warned. “Leave him. They know what they are doing,” she growled as two of the other kids gently placed the boy on his side, talked to him and helped keep his mouth open while cradling his head. They held him enough for Doc Boy to administer the medication.
The boy's fit seemed to ease as the medicine took hold. Finally, he relaxed almost explosively just as the corpsman got to his side. Doc Boy looked at the pack leader and nodded. “He's good,” the child medic said. The other kids drooped their shoulders in a sigh of relief.
“Let me check him. We've got some advanced meds,” the corpsman said, kneeling at the boy's side as the kids began to go about their other business. Doc Boy rubbed the young man's arms as a girl stroked his hair. There were cranial ridges on his forehead under the hair.
“I just need some more meds. I'm almost out,” Doc Boy said.
“Well, if we can get him back to the naval annex, I'm sure we can fix him up with something more permanent,” the corpsman stated.
“Like surgery?” Doc Boy asked, taking his stethoscope out of a pocket to check the kid's heart. Alley was impressed. The boy had an air about him of professional ease, one she envied. “He doesn't need that,” Doc Boy said.
“Hell with that. An implant would stop the seizures permanently,” Alley said. “We've got the med tech, kid. He might have to wait a bit since others might be ahead of him, but we'll get this sorted out.”
“He's fine,” Doc Boy said carefully as they helped the young man up. “You bite your tongue again, Garax?”
“No,” the boy said, working his jaw. “Thanks for getting the pad in,” he said, eyes still a little lost as he looked to the girl with him.
“No problem,” she said, hugging his side briefly as they eased him over to a chair. He was still panting a bit but calming down.
“What do you use to treat something like this in the field?” Doc Boy asked. Polly glanced at him, but Alley immediately turned and dug out her kit.
“Well, I don't have a lot but usually …”
^<(>^<)>^
Captain Lyon frowned as he looked from one child to another. “Someone want to tell me what happened?” he demanded. Finally, his eyes turned on the mysterious boy leader.
“A member of my unit had a medical emergency. None of your concern,” the boy leader said softly, looking at him briefly as he hand signed to the others. They nodded firmly and moved off; this time with grim purpose.
Captain Lyon frowned, but the civilian woman immediately intervened. She tried to block his path, hands out, but he ducked under her arm contemptuously.
“Now look here, son …,” the captain said, reaching for the boy. “We're just … trying to … will you wait? Hang on a minute,” he said as the young man ducked out of his grasp.
“I'm not your son,” the boy growled, turning on him. There was something there, something dangerous, beyond feral in that growl. His eyes sparkled once, then he couldn't see them again. “My people. Mine,” he hissed as he turned with a glare to the woman. There was something there in his glowering eyes behind the sunglasses that made the captain's blood run cold for a moment. “The deal is we stay together as a unit. Take it or we walk.”
“Let me … talk with Miss Trunchbull for a moment. We'll see what we can work out,” he glanced at the frumpy woman. She looked so severe with her hair up in a bun like that. No wonder the kids hated her. The airs she put on �
� His heart sank.
“Right. Good luck with that,” the young man drawled behind him, moving off.
^<(>^<)>^
Captain Lyon escorted Miss Trunchbull into his HQ tent. She frowned, nose in the air as he guided her in to his inner office. The sun was nearly down. “I need to get moving soon. I can't stay here long; Miss Honey can only mind the children for so long.”
“Miss Honey?”
“My niece. She loves the retched things. I left her in charge of the orphanage as well as the school. No doubt she's got them singing songs instead of learning what they need to learn,” the woman practically spat.
“Well, I can arrange some military transport, ma'am. We can take the kids in one group as promised to where they need to go.” He'd thought that once they were in the town and out of his hair they would be someone else's problem. Now he wasn't so sure. The feral kids would descend on any area like locusts.
“They need a firm hand. That young man … I would have disciplined him had he been in arms reach,” the woman snarled, meaty fists clenching and unclenching. She went on to harp about the boy for several minutes as the captain tried to attend to her without showing his impatience or exasperation. Finally, she started to wind down. “He's the one we need to get away from the others. He's poison.”
“He's kept them alive, ma'am,” the captain said carefully. “Him, Polly, Doc Boy, and the others—they are the reason the kids are organized and alive at all.”
Her eyes flared. “I don't care!”
“I do, ma'am. They are pretty well established as a family unit. Disrupting it again could have traumatic consequences.”
“We will see. The animals I leave up to you to dispose of,” the woman said, wrinkling her nose.
“Ma'am, they are a part of the group,” the marine replied, feeling a sinking heart.
“And I just told you, I. Don't. Care. Not my problem,” she insisted vehemently, practically spitting each word as she leaned into his personal space in an attempt to dominate the conversation. “I came for children. These brats are mostly subhuman, but I won't hold their birth against them I suppose.”
