bad. It
didn’t have anything to do with that. They needed kids a certain age for their
army, that’s all.”
“So why
are you here?” Monk insisted. “You’re too old.”
Oh
God, just shut up, Joe wished her, watching Maggie
grow ever-closer to an all-out bawling session. He certainly recognized the
look—he’d seen it on Sam enough times. “I was stupid,” he muttered, hoping
Monk would leave it at that.
“You
mean you were bad?”
“No, I
was stupid,” Joe said, irritated. “Just drop it, all right?”
“I saw
you try to beat up that alien,” Elf said. “They kicked your butt.” He
grinned, flexing his ears with the force of his smile.
“That
was him? ” Scott’s eyes widened. “I thought they killed that kid.”
Joe
glanced at the glossy black ceiling, willing himself patience. “Look, they’re
not gonna kill us. They’ll just patch us up and put more time on our
enlistments.”
“What’s
an enlistment?” Maggie and Monk asked, at the same time, blinking up at him in
innocent curiosity.
Oh crap,
I can’t do this, Joe thought, trying to figure out
how to tell five little kids that they were about to spend half their lives as
indentured servants to aliens who wanted to throw them into a meat grinder just
to see what came out the other end. “Uh,” he began, wincing, “it means time
you owe to the army. I just owe a little bit more time for that fight
earlier. No biggie.”
“So
that was you?” Scott asked, in awe.
Before
Joe could answer, Commander Tril barked, “Time’s up. Get back in line!”
Joe
stood up and went back to the front of the group. Tril had taken up the head
of the formation, with Battlemaster Nebil standing to one side, tentacles
twisted in front of him in a formal posture, his bleached brown eyes betraying
nothing of his thoughts.
Scott
tugged on Joe’s sleeve. “Maggie’s not in line.”
Joe
turned around and cursed under his breath. Maggie was clutching Libby’s skinny
black leg, tears leaking down her cheeks. Her thumb was back in her mouth.
Joe got out of line and ushered Maggie to the back. She refused to stay put.
He was
pleading with her when Commander Tril snapped, “Zero! Get up here!”
Joe
flinched and reluctantly turned to face Tril. Swallowing hard, he straightened
and walked up to the squat orange-streaked alien, steeling himself. As
expected, Tril slammed a heavy, boneless tentacle into Joe’s gut, doubling him
over.
“That’s
for taking too long. Now get back in line,” Tril
said. He waited, clearly wanting Joe to disobey. And, for a moment, Joe
almost did. Fighting the urge to dismantle the Ooreiki’s face, Joe
straightened and limped back to his group. All five of the others were staring
at him, wide-eyed. He winked at them.
“There
are thirty-seven blue spheres behind me,” Tril
said once Joe was back in place. “Approximately one for every two
groundteams. Each groundteam that has a sphere in their possession nine tics
from now will eat lunch this afternoon. Starting now.”
Joe
frowned. One for every two… He froze, realizing Tril’s intent. “Stay
here!” Joe cried to his groundteam. He bolted forward for a ball and snatched
it up as quickly as he could. A few others of the bigger kids moved with him,
but most of the company just stared at the alien dumbly.
“Did I
say stand there and stare ?!” Tril demanded. “I said fight , you
miserable Takki. Go get a ball!”
By the
time Joe jogged back to his team, genuine panic was spreading throughout the
room and mini battles began breaking out over the balls.
Joe
hefted Maggie onto his shoulders and hurriedly gathered the others around him
and backed them into a corner. With Joe holding the ball, no one challenged
them, though others were not so lucky. In the end, one of the groups with a
majority of twelve-year-olds had two balls and there were thirty-nine groups
with
didn’t have anything to do with that. They needed kids a certain age for their
army, that’s all.”
“So why
are you here?” Monk insisted. “You’re too old.”
Oh
God, just shut up, Joe wished her, watching Maggie
grow ever-closer to an all-out bawling session. He certainly recognized the
look—he’d seen it on Sam enough times. “I was stupid,” he muttered, hoping
Monk would leave it at that.
“You
mean you were bad?”
“No, I
was stupid,” Joe said, irritated. “Just drop it, all right?”
“I saw
you try to beat up that alien,” Elf said. “They kicked your butt.” He
grinned, flexing his ears with the force of his smile.
“That
was him? ” Scott’s eyes widened. “I thought they killed that kid.”
Joe
glanced at the glossy black ceiling, willing himself patience. “Look, they’re
not gonna kill us. They’ll just patch us up and put more time on our
enlistments.”
“What’s
an enlistment?” Maggie and Monk asked, at the same time, blinking up at him in
innocent curiosity.
Oh crap,
I can’t do this, Joe thought, trying to figure out
how to tell five little kids that they were about to spend half their lives as
indentured servants to aliens who wanted to throw them into a meat grinder just
to see what came out the other end. “Uh,” he began, wincing, “it means time
you owe to the army. I just owe a little bit more time for that fight
earlier. No biggie.”
“So
that was you?” Scott asked, in awe.
Before
Joe could answer, Commander Tril barked, “Time’s up. Get back in line!”
Joe
stood up and went back to the front of the group. Tril had taken up the head
of the formation, with Battlemaster Nebil standing to one side, tentacles
twisted in front of him in a formal posture, his bleached brown eyes betraying
nothing of his thoughts.
Scott
tugged on Joe’s sleeve. “Maggie’s not in line.”
Joe
turned around and cursed under his breath. Maggie was clutching Libby’s skinny
black leg, tears leaking down her cheeks. Her thumb was back in her mouth.
Joe got out of line and ushered Maggie to the back. She refused to stay put.
He was
pleading with her when Commander Tril snapped, “Zero! Get up here!”
Joe
flinched and reluctantly turned to face Tril. Swallowing hard, he straightened
and walked up to the squat orange-streaked alien, steeling himself. As
expected, Tril slammed a heavy, boneless tentacle into Joe’s gut, doubling him
over.
“That’s
for taking too long. Now get back in line,” Tril
said. He waited, clearly wanting Joe to disobey. And, for a moment, Joe
almost did. Fighting the urge to dismantle the Ooreiki’s face, Joe
straightened and limped back to his group. All five of the others were staring
at him, wide-eyed. He winked at them.
“There
are thirty-seven blue spheres behind me,” Tril
said once Joe was back in place. “Approximately one for every two
groundteams. Each groundteam that has a sphere in their possession nine tics
from now will eat lunch this afternoon. Starting now.”
Joe
frowned. One for every two… He froze, realizing Tril’s intent. “Stay
here!” Joe cried to his groundteam. He bolted forward for a ball and snatched
it up as quickly as he could. A few others of the bigger kids moved with him,
but most of the company just stared at the alien dumbly.
“Did I
say stand there and stare ?!” Tril demanded. “I said fight , you
miserable Takki. Go get a ball!”
By the
time Joe jogged back to his team, genuine panic was spreading throughout the
room and mini battles began breaking out over the balls.
Joe
hefted Maggie onto his shoulders and hurriedly gathered the others around him
and backed them into a corner. With Joe holding the ball, no one challenged
them, though others were not so lucky. In the end, one of the groups with a
majority of twelve-year-olds had two balls and there were thirty-nine groups
with
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