Deluge (6 page)

CHAPTER 7

I
T’S TIME
!
R
ONAN’S
mental call broke into Murel’s dream of the river.
They’re unlocking our door now. Yours?

Awakening, Murel listened.
Not yet. Sky?

Hiding,
Sky replied.
This place is not in space now. It is stopped on the ground, but the ground is not our ground.

As Murel sat up, the door slid open. Two of the soldiers who sometimes brought the food stood outside. “Okay, brats, your chariot awaits,” one of them said, unnecessarily waving her stunner at them.

They were herded to the docking bay and hustled aboard a shuttle. Ronan and the boys joined them as they were all jammed inside the small craft. From the main part of the ship they could hear barked orders, groans, and footsteps, and through the shuttle’s viewport, just before they launched, Murel saw a great crowd of adults, some in Marmie’s livery but most in civilian clothing, being forced into the bay by armed guards. She spotted Mrs. Fogarty among them.

The shuttle lifted, maneuvered through the open hatch of the ship, and rose into the air above a bleak desertlike area whose sole distinguishing fixture was a massive city-sized fortified compound. As the shuttle gained altitude, Murel saw that the captive adults below were being offloaded directly to the surface, where they were marched down a short road through concertina-wire-topped walls and into the stark and barren grounds of what appeared to be a squat, rectangular building with several attached satellite buildings, each no more than two stories high. It reminded her of the hospital building on Kilcoole—if that building had grown to monstrous size and exuded brutality instead of a healing atmosphere. She tried to see as much as she could in the second or two before the shuttle pivoted in the air and headed out over open water.
So that’s the prison,
she said to Ronan.
I’m glad we’re not going in there, at least.

Let’s see where we
are
going before you get too thrilled about it,
Ronan told her.

She wasn’t the only one to notice the destination of the adults. “I want to go with my parents!” Rory demanded with a good imitation of his grandmother’s haughtiest tones. “You have no right to separate our family.”

“Sorry, kid, you’re a little young for prison,” the shuttle copilot said. “They’d eat a morsel like you alive.” He made a disgusting slurping sound.

But Rory’s demand had unsettled the younger kids.

“Mom!” a boy wailed, and rushed to the viewport.

The copilot casually backhanded him and sent the child flying back into Rory’s and Ronan’s laps.

“Hey!” Huy objected.

“You want some too, girly?” the man asked. “We’re flyin’ here, okay? And we’re not taking you to see your mommies and daddies, so just forget that. Forget them.”

“Austin, shut up. You’re scaring them,” the pilot said in a low voice, but one easily audible to the twins, who heard almost as well when they were human as when they were seals—unless, of course, it was someone forbidding them to do something they wanted to do. “We have a job to do here, but there’s no sense in being a jerk about it.”

For one brief moment Rory’s eyes met Ronan’s. Murel didn’t have to read her brother’s thoughts to know the boys were wishing they could blow something up. But then Rory dropped his eyes, looking a bit sick.

I feel a little queasy myself,
Murel admitted to Ronan.
What are they going to do to those people, just because they worked for Marmie? This is crazy!

“If it was up to me, we’d drop the kids off with the rest of the criminals,” the copilot complained, then added in a lecturing voice, “It’s a well-known scientific fact that criminal tendencies are hereditary. If you ask me, there’s no need to waste fuel taking them to some kiddie resort.”

“I didn’t ask you. Orders are orders. The kids are processed differently. You know that.”

The shuttle left the buildings behind, crossed the barren land, and suddenly they were flying over what looked like an ocean.

Resort? That sounds hopeful, at least,
Murel said.

Indeed,
Ronan agreed.
Now if we can just figure out how to get from here to there and back again.

“Two of those brats attacked our guys,” the copilot was continuing. “Bit them. Seems to me it wouldn’t hurt the little punks to let them see what they have to look forward to when they’re older.”

As if the soldiers didn’t attack us first!
Ronan thought.

“Aw, shut up, Austin. You’ve started to enjoy this prison transport duty way too much,” the pilot said, still in a voice too low for most of the kids to hear. “About time you transferred.”

“What the frag do you mean by that?” Austin asked.

“You’re getting to where you’re buying into the idea that these people exist for you to push around. That’s not good for you, man,” the pilot told him.

“Huh. Not good for
them,
you mean,” Austin retorted.

“I mean
you.
One of these days you are going to be like me, ready to retire, go dirtside somewhere back where you came from or some other little vacation spot where the company decides to put you. Everybody around you is going to look like them, not like us, and you are going to be so fraggin’ warped nobody will have anything to do with you. There’s no home for old Corpsmen, son.”

“Spare me the fraggin’ philosophy, Begay. You’ve got the same duty as me. What makes you think you know so much about what I’m going to be like when I leave the Corps? With what I’ve learned here, I might be runnin’ the place, wherever I go.”

The pilot, Begay, shook his head and pursed his lips. “I hope not. You’re startin’ to sound just like my old man.”

“He must have been okay. Here you are in the Corps and you’ve done okay for yourself.”

“Sure have. He’s dirtside,
in
the dirt, and I’m here. Suits me fine.”

The shuttle descended and the twins saw more land, this with trees and a mountain in the middle of it.

Look! A volcano,
Murel told Ronan.

Good,
he replied.

Maybe,
she said.
This isn’t like home.
What she meant was that as far as they knew, this place wasn’t alive, wasn’t sentient, wasn’t something that could be appealed to or reasoned with. Ronan knew that too, but he was more optimistic.

No, it looks to be a good deal warmer. It will be good for the Kanaka kids. Get them used to living in this kind of place for when they get back to Petaybee.

Murel was glad Ronan could be so positive about it. She didn’t see how returning home was going to happen for any of them. Unless their messages had gone through, and she was by no means sure they had, she had no idea how they were going to get away.

The shuttle set down.

“This is your stop,” Begay told them, and with a press of a button opened the hatch. It was as if he had opened the door of an oven. The temperature outside was warmer than any they had ever experienced.

He then pushed another button that released the restraints that had kept them strapped to their benches.

From the open hatch, they saw a walled compound that looked far less grim than the first one. Though the wall was built of stones and topped with concertina wire, as the wall around the prison had been, what it enclosed looked like a village of shacks built of some sort of large rigid reed and thatched with broad tree fronds. They could see huge flowers and sprays of grasses growing in what looked like a garden, and there were even a few tall slender trees, their branches spreading like fern fronds circling the top.

Not too bad maybe,
Murel thought optimistically.

That’s not for us, silly. That must be where the guards live,
Ronan told her.
Before we landed did you see over there, across the island, through the trees, where that dirt road from the village is going? That other stone wall with those buildings behind it? That would be where they’re taking us.

“What are you kids? Hard of hearing?” Austin demanded. “Get out.”

Rory jumped down ahead of them, Dewey right behind him, then the twins; Huy and Chesney helped the younger ones.

Two more soldiers met them at the landing zone. They were a man and a woman a little younger than the twins’ parents. The man was fairly slight, and the wind blew back his fatigue hat to reveal thinning brown hair. His gray eyes were as unfriendly and turbulent as storm clouds. Father’s eyes were gray too, but tended to vary from the softness of the silkiest gray fur to sparkling silver when he was amused. The twins were told that their eyes had turned from the same gray as their father’s to blue when they were toddlers.

The woman greeting them was a little taller than the man, with short blond hair, a trim build, and thin lips curved into the shape of a smile. She wore the visored cap version of the uniform hat, which shaded her eyes, so they couldn’t see what color they were.

“Welcome to Camp Neverland,” the man said. “I’m Captain Nobel Keester, medical doctor and commandant of the camp. This is my assistant, Second Lieutenant Portia Bunyon.”

“This way, children,” the woman said. “Hurry or you’ll miss your meal for the day. You’ve still to be processed in.”

“What’s that mean?” Rory asked.

“You’ll see soon enough,” the man said in a way that Murel couldn’t help feeling was ominous.

Catching the glance the twins exchanged, the woman dropped back and stepped between them, putting her arms over their shoulders in what looked like a maternal gesture but felt like a herding maneuver.

“It’s nothing. A few vaccinations—you two are old enough not to mind a needle or two—and a delousing.”

“We don’t have lice!” Murel told her.

“I’m not saying you do, but some here do. The haircut we give you will make sure you don’t get them either. You’ll find it’s cooler too. Snap it up now, you don’t want to miss your meal. Normally, incoming kids are bathed right away, but it’s late, and if you don’t eat now, you’ll go hungry until mealtime tomorrow, so the doc is making an exception for you this time.”

The twins exchanged looks and a relieved
Whew!

They allowed themselves to be herded through the gate, which closed behind them, blocking their view of the sea. Murel felt for a moment as if she were being smothered.

I know, me too,
Ro told her.
But stifle it. The water will still be there when we need it. It doesn’t look like they keep kids under lock and key, or even keep very good track of us so far. We’ll get out when we have to.

Murel thought maybe there’d be a dining hall with tables, but instead there was a long line of kids with bowls waiting for a soldier to ladle what looked like soup or thin stew into their bowls. An older boy handed each child a single slice of bread as they filed past and returned to the huts or tried to find somewhere to sit down and eat.

All of the kids except their group had shaved heads and wore loose tunics over bare legs. A few looked to be eleven or twelve but most appeared younger. Although it was hard to tell with the haircuts and outfits, Murel thought there seemed to be more girls than boys.

They joined the line, letting the smaller kids go first. By the time Murel got there, there was nothing left but rather putrid-looking watery stuff. She wasn’t too worried. There was water nearby. If she and Ro could get close enough, they’d catch some fish.

Dewey, balancing his bread and bowl, was looking for a place to sit. “Here, kid, I’ll hold that for you while you take a seat,” an older girl said. She was tall and her build blocky, her skin about the same dark olive as theirs; the stubble on her head was black, and she looked familiar to Murel. She snatched Dewey’s bread, which tore, and when Dewey tried to pull his bowl away from her, it flew out of both their grasps and hit the ground, spilling the soup.

“Fraggin’ new kid!” the girl snarled. “Look at that. He’s so fat he can afford to waste food.”

Both of the people who had met the shuttle had disappeared, and the soldier who’d served the food did not look up from stowing his soup barrel and utensils aboard a small flitter.

“Hey,” Chesney said, dropping her empty bowl and rushing forward. “Leave him alone, you. Isn’t it bad enough we have to be here without picking on each other?”

Without answering, the other girl punched Chesney in the nose. Blood spurted.

Huy stood up and started toward her. Obviously, prison or no prison, camp or no camp, they were their own law and order here. Ronan and Murel and all of the space-station kids advanced on the bully girl, but she was quickly joined by what seemed to be every other kid in the camp.

But then another group, this one of smaller kids, stepped between the two. To Murel’s surprise, one of them reached out and touched the big girl’s hand and said something to her in a musical language Murel recognized, hearing her name and Ronan’s in what the child said. The bully’s fist uncurled, but she advanced again on Chesney, who was on the ground and bleeding. Kneeling, she reached her hand out and grumbled, “Sorry, kid.” Then she turned to Dewey. “Sorry about your food too. You can have mine tomorrow.”

She looked up at Ronan and Murel. “Okay? No hard feelings?”

Before they could answer, she rose, jumped over Chesney’s legs, and disappeared into one of the huts.

The girl who had touched the bully’s hand said, “Kai’s just mad. She’s been like that all her life, I guess. I’m Pele, by the way. Kai’s my big sistah. I get scared, Maia gets her feelings hurt, Ke-ola wants to understand what’s going on, and Keoki wants to argue. Kai gets mad.” She shrugged.

“You know Ke-ola and Keoki?” Ronan asked.

“They are my bruthas. Kai’s too. And we all know you two. You’re the se—” She stopped at Ronan’s shushing motion. “—the twins,” she finished quickly. Dropping her voice, she asked, “Have you come to save us again? Please save Kai too, even though she’s a pain. She’s not always like this, just when she gets upset.”

“She should learn to yell or hit a rock or something,” Murel said resentfully. “Not pick on people who are littler than she is.”