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CHAPTER 15

Sean Elliott relaxed now that things were explained and under control.

“Well, that’s over for now. Since everyone’s up, let’s work on PT and breakfast. I want two people on inside perimeter patrol.”

Cryder said, “No need, I deployed a viewer.” He pointed directly up.

“Oh? I didn’t see them last night.”

The man looked sheepish. “They were peaceful on meeting and didn’t pursue immediately. I assumed peaceful enough, or intelligent enough to accept facts.”

“Well, they were intelligent enough to hold off and plan for what would have been a very effective attack without the wards.”

“My error, I won’t repeat it. Drones are set to charge, deploy, and rotate through automatically. I’ve my interface set to monitor, and’ll actively check periodically, and track their operation.”

He agreed diplomatically. “Very good. I’m still going to have two people walking. It’s how I operate. Spencer, can you and Caswell do it?”

Dr. Raven sounded off. “Captain, I can handle an M4 or their weapon, and I’m not able to run much, but I can walk. It’s my preferred exercise. I’ll do it if you’re agreeable.”

“Spencer and Raven, then. Caswell, organize the females, Doc, organize the males. PT.”

He wondered how the drones fared in the gusty winds that were up this morning. It was hazy, but chill even with the sun. Definitely fall. The distant trees were starting to turn color.

In formation in the shorn grass, it was classic Army. Up front, Doc called, “Attention! At ease. The first exercise is the push-up.”

“THE PUSH-UP!”

On the one hand it was familiar routine. On another, it was the same old crap. But they had to stay busy for six weeks, and get the recoverees back into Army mindset.

Cryder and Arnet watched in minor amusement. After the push-ups, Arnet came over, fell into the back of the formation, and joined in. Sit-ups in buddy pairs. Leg lifts. Jumping jacks.

Sean went along with it, light exercise to keep the body moving, while watching the returnees. Most of them had no trouble, though boots were obviously something they’d gotten out of the habit of. Four of them were barefoot. Fine for now. He’d advise them to work proactively on getting used to footwear again.

As they wrapped up, he sought out Sheridan, down at the end sweating but trying to keep up.

“Dr. Sheridan, I understand there are tests and specimens you need from the returnees.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you keep them busy with that for a couple of hours? Or even until lunch?”

“I don’t need that long on the first round,” she said. Then she seemed to catch on to his hint and said, “But if we take our time, we can be thorough.”

“Sounds good. Hold on.”

He called over his shoulder, “Breakfast and showers at your own pace, both are ready now.”

Turning back to Sheridan he said, “I’ll let them enjoy breakfast. My people have some admin stuff to deal with.”

“Understood, sir.”

Breakfast thrilled the recoverees all over again. They could be heard enthusiastically endorsing it.

“Bacon!!”

“Sausage! And ohmygod, eggs, from chicken, without anything in them growing.”

“Pancakes. Syrup. Milk. Orange juice!”

Sean looked over to make sure Doc was rationing them to about a bite of each. He didn’t want them getting sick. Yes, he and Arnet were splitting one serving of each between all ten.

The rest of the regulars munched around the fire. Oglesby had wrapped everything in a pancake for convenience. Raven ate just bacon and sausage. The others had plates with various contents.

He opened with, “Okay, we’ve made contact, recovered the element. Very good, even if it was partly luck. So we must continue to acclimate them, and some of them are resistant or difficult, and we have a child we didn’t expect.”

“You should have,” Raven chided.

He agreed, “Yeah, I guess I hoped we’d find them within weeks or months, and that they’d hold up half as well as we did. I should have planned for it. In my defense, no one above me did, either.”

She said, “If they’d consulted us, we’d have advised them. But it’s a null issue now. And had they told us in the beginning about the process irregularities…” She looked pretty angry.

“Correct. And thanks for understanding, and your help.”

He continued, “So, we must get them prepared and moved to departure point. We must get Shug back to his people. They’re apparently within a few days’ walk from here. He’s seen this local group at what’s basically a clan gathering and fair.”

Spencer said, “If I may, sir.”

“Go ahead.”

“We’ve got six weeks, which sounds like a lot, but isn’t. We need a week of that to move, and we have to relocate Shug. That probably eats three weeks. That assumes everything goes perfectly and we leave now.”

Dalton said, “It’s the Army. It’s never perfect or on time.”

“Right.”

Sean said, “So I want them kept within the perimeter, occupied with debrief, chores even if we have to make them up, PT, starting to write their AARs. We also need that for any potential cross-contamination.”

Doc said, “Arnet and I need to check them over, treat for parasites they had and may still have, and their teeth.”

“Right. Do that ASAP.”

Caswell asked, “And my first question is where’s the rest of their gear? I see no weapons, little equipment or personal stuff, and only scraps of uniform. We had to repair ours, but after two years they were still largely intact, not gone.”

“I noticed, but not to that level of detail. We’ll start debriefing right after breakfast.”

He took a deep breath.

“Next item: Fraternization. There’s been an attempt already.”

Spencer said, “We’ll help cover that, sir. I’m proposing to move your shelter up by the Guardians.”

“I wasn’t naming names, but apparently everyone knows?” There were nods. “Damn. Okay. Well, that’s one possibility.”


Jenny stepped in.

“Sir, I suggest staying where you are, we’ll adjust the schedule slightly. I can put her on some details, and the docs have agreed to help keep her occupied and an eye on her. I’d not get near the Guardian vehicles. They may be able to keep her occupied there.”

Oglesby asked, “Oh? Doing what?”

“They have stuff to keep her busy.”

“‘Stuff’?”

“Stuff, Sergeant. That’s enough for you to know.” Goddamn, did women have no agency for privacy?

Elliott said, “Yeah, well, this is going to apply to all of them, since they’ve been out of Army discipline for some time—and all of us, of course. I’ll be talking to Lieutenant Cole and getting him involved.”

There were nods.

“That’s it for now. Short break and police call while I deal with some other stuff. Two of ours, one of theirs. Firewood and other tasks.”

“Hooah.”

She put in quickly, “Sir, you, me, and Sergeant Spencer need to have a talk about this, too.”

“Okay.” He looked tired, but it was just that—fatigue. He wasn’t dismissing her out of hand.

Once the three of them were alone, she took a deep breath.

She made eye contact with both. “Sir, Sergeant Spencer, we’re going to have to be very gentle with that girl. She’s probably not even aware of her own mental state.”

“Oh? Something you noticed?”

“Something she hasn’t, yet. She’s spent five years as a repeated rape victim.”

Spencer said, “Huh? I understood it was all entirely consensual.”

“No, she was pushed into it by her commander.”

He looked disturbed. “Oh. That does make a difference.”

“Yeah. It was a quid pro quo with their hosts. And then it went on. We’ll need to find out about Oyo, too, though apparently she was less to their taste.”

Elliott asked, “Can you ask?”

Jenny shook her head. “No. No one should ask. We wait to see what they offer. Then ease them into it.”

“Into what?”

“Into understanding they were raped.”

“Why do that?” Spencer asked.

“So they can recover.”

It was frustrating trying to explain this without better skills. She thought about calling Dr. Raven over, who seemed to have a background for it.

Spencer said, “I’m not saying it’s not horrible. I’m saying if she doesn’t think of it as rape, why bring it up and make her think of it that way? That’s almost worse.”

Jenny understood that argument. Fair enough. She took a deep breath.

“You mean well, and that’s logical, but it’s not how it works.”

“Okay?”

“She may not think of it as rape, but she’ll know she was taken advantage of, and demeaned. The only way to heal is to accept what happened, and then move on. Without doing that, it’ll just fester.”

“Like PTSD or mental illness.”

“Exactly that.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “God, this is revolting all around. Why did they think that was a good idea?”

She hated that she understood it.

“They wanted good relations, and safety, and comfort. Do you understand now why I was so twitchy around you guys for two years?”

Spencer said, “Yeah. But there was no way we’d ever do that.”

She reminded them, “I got lucky. You guys were honorable, professional, and willing to deal with it to maintain cohesiveness. These guys defaulted to women as property, and it was almost their first thought.”

Elliott said, “I want to argue that it’s not all men, but it’s enough of them.”

“It only takes one. Once it sounds like a good idea, it’s game on. Just like mobs or bar fights.”

He said, “Well, I have no idea how to approach it, I’m obviously not the right person for it. It’s on you, I guess.”

“Or when we get forward again,” she said.

It wasn’t just the woman. All these poor people were going to need massive therapy, probably for years.

Elliott said, “I have the docs keeping them busy for some tests. Then there’s the firewood and some other campkeeping. Then we need to start the debrief. Me, Spencer, you with the females, Doc if needed, one of the Guardians, and one of the scientists. It’s going to take most of the time we have.”

Spencer agreed, “Let’s get to it.”


Armand was ready to do full physicals on everyone. He had his gear, Arnet and his equipment, and ten troops and a child to check. He felt useful again, within his specialty. The field clinic was the CQ, with awnings down and seats set. It was typical for deployment and had been for centuries. The tech changed, the layout didn’t.

“Arnet, can you think of anything specific we’re likely to face? I’m guessing old injuries, scars, bad teeth, torn nails, calluses and wear, joint issues.”

“That’s probly a good summary.”

“Okay. You scan, but I should do most of the talking.”

The man concurred. “Yes, they’re your people.”

Hamilton came in first.

Armand welcomed him with, “Specialist Hamilton. You’re looking well.”

“I feel better, thank you, sir.” Shaved, shorn, dressed in a uniform, he was a completely different person from the ragged caricature they’d first encountered.

“Most of this exam is automated. Have a seat on the recliner,” he indicated. It really was a folding recliner, like a beach chair but gossamer light.

Hamilton did, and he reached forward. “Place your wrist in this sleeve.”

“Hooah.”

Arnet had set the machine to read in English. Armand read the screen and informed the patient.

“This will give us all your vitals. They look good. You should be parasite free. It seems some of your nutrition is a little off. You need more iodine, a bit of calcium, and some zinc. Overall you’re in very good health. How do you feel?”

“Fucking awesome, sir. Ready for home to go.”

“We’ll get there and there will be more exams. Get used to them.”

“Small price.”

“Tell us about any injuries you’ve had. Literally everything above a scraped finger.”

“God, stubbed toes. Cut feet. Cut hands. My wrist.” He pointed at a small, jagged scar. “A couple of head bangs.”

“What’s that?” Armand pointed at an angular mark on the man’s left chest, under the collar bone.

“Oh, that’s the tribal mark. We all have that.”

Interesting that the left breast was a significant location even in this culture.

“Tattoo?” he asked.

“I think so. Cut skin and ash rubbed in.”

Arnet said, “I can make that go away with a salve and some frequencies.”

Armand nodded. “Okay, good. Let me see your feet.” Hamilton unlaced his boots with some awkwardness from unfamiliarity. He kicked them off, pulled at his socks. His feet still showed heavy calluses. None of the scars were critical, and the bones seemed to be aligned. Nails were ugly and coarse, but intact.

“You’ll need to cut those again after you shower tonight.”

“Hooah, sir. And my fingernails.”

“Yes. Get them soft first.”

Arnet said, “We have a lotion. Apply it now, it will feel greasy in the socks, but will dry within an hour or so. After that, the nails will be pliable for the next day.”

Armand said, “I need to do a quick visual down below. No probing unless you’re having issues.”

“No, the tribal elders know how to treat internal parasites with one of the spicy plants.” The man slipped his pants down, raised his legs and spread.

Armand nodded. No obvious damage, but damn, that skin was like leather. Probably from thighs rubbing, sweat, and hair. No obvious lesions or damage.

“Good. I need to look at your teeth.”

Hamilton pulled his pants up, leaned back and opened his mouth. The monitor’s light moved to best illuminate.

Dentistry wasn’t one of Armand’s prime skills. He could look at general condition and obvious cavities. That was about it.

Hamilton’s mouth looked pretty good. The gums were bit inflamed, but tartar buildup was light. Lack of sugar and starch would do that. He had one swollen spot with a shred of meat stuck, which Armand flicked out with a probe. That might be a cavity in back.

Arnet asked, “Were your third molars removed?”

“No, I’ve never had teeth out.”

Armand clarified. “Wisdom teeth.”

“Oh, I still had them. They weren’t in the way.”

Arnet said, “They are now. We can fix that when we get home.”

Armand asked, “Is that a cavity?”

Arnet looked at the tooth and his monitor and replied, “Fissure, minor. We’ll fix that now.”

Hamilton tensed slightly, until Armand said, “We fix it with a gel. First you’re getting a mouthwash to clear some of that gunk out generally. Swish this in your mouth for at least sixty seconds.” He handed over the cup Arnet had ready.

Then he sat back and did nothing. It was easy to distract someone doing something like this, and have them swallow or spill. It was amusing once, and unprofessional.

He kept a count at fifteen-second intervals, and concluded with, “You’re done. Just spit it on the ground. Then open back up for some gel.”

He put the syringe where Arnet pointed, and squeezed.

Arnet said, “That has to sit for an hour without any eating.”

“Hooah…Sergeant?” The man wasn’t sure what Arnet actually was. Armand felt sympathy. He still wasn’t sure.

Arnet said, “There’s no equivalent rank. Sir or Sergeant are both acceptable. ‘Gajin Op Prime’ is too wordy.”

“And you’re good to go,” Armand said. “Send in Maldonado next.”


Sean Elliott hated to start the line of questioning he was about to start, but it had to be covered. The firepit wasn’t the most private place, but he’d given orders for them to be left alone. He had Spencer and Caswell sitting a few feet away. He wanted their input later, but the questions were his.

It was too nice a morning for this, but he breathed the clean, hazy air and started.

“Lieutenant Cole, we need to ask some baseline questions. This is official, but not everything here will wind up back home. For example, do not ever admit to killing any aurochs or other fauna.”

The lieutenant wrinkled his brow. “Why not? Food hunting is a problem?”

“It is when the EPA is asking the questions and it’s an extinct animal,” Sean told him.

He looked confused. “What the hell? They’re gone long in our time.”

Sean explained, “And our rep admitted that was the case and it was stupid, but US Government regs are US Government regs. We’ll make sure we tell everyone. The question is, are your people able to handle that and not talk too much?”

The man winced. “Probably not all of them. Lozano seems to want trouble. Hamilton has always been too friendly. So has Noirot.”

“Well, we have six weeks here and time when in the future. They’ll help.”

Cole looked and said, “I hope so. I don’t want trouble back home.”

“It’s going to be a long haul, Brian. We’re still recovering ourselves, and still subject to interviews.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“First of all, what happened to your interpreter? Akhtar Malik?”

Cole paused for only a moment and said, “He married a local woman. They had a son who was stillborn. He died shortly after that in a hunting accident. I think he was trying to get killed. He was very unhappy.”

“How was he buried?”

“In a hole, with some beads and stuff. We put his Quran in with him. He’d have wanted that.”

Unfortunate the man was dead, but the closure was good. “Very decent of you. Do you know where?”

“Yeah, there’s an area we use.”

“Okay, we’ll need to document that. You can show us from memory? Or on an aerial photo?”

“Yes, if we go. Maybe on a map.”

“Excellent.”

So far so good, but they had to get to the other issue fast.

“So, as to Noirot, and you’re not being charged or otherwise, but we need to know. How did she wind up swapping sexual favors to people?”

He blushed, hard.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly, sounding tense. “We got here, hacked around, managed to kill a few things and get a fire going, made some lean-tos. We were pretty fucking shocked.”

“We understand exactly. Go on.”

“We got meat every day. We knew dandelions were edible and found a few. That was pretty much all we had. The meat was tough, tasteless, I’m sure you know.”

“You found water?”

“Yeah, we walked downhill to a stream and followed it. We drank the water and got screaming shits. We all lost weight, had trouble keeping clean, had relapses. It was two weeks of sheer fucking hell. I think it was two weeks. We all lost track. We had a couple of lean-tos and a fire, and small stuff we could knock over with M4s. We got harassed by a lion, and then by a bear. We ran through a bit of ammo in the process.”

“I bet.”

The memory seemed to make the man shrink back and shiver. “We kept going downstream, hoping to find something. We didn’t see any villages, no radio, of course, no aircraft, nothing. We thought we’d wound up in an abandoned world.”

“We were able to figure it out pretty quickly. Doc knows astronomy and could read the stars. We got lucky. But yes, it’s utterly terrifying when it happens.”

“It was beyond terrifying. We…broke down. All of us. I tried to keep discipline and order but…there was no way. We all knew to keep moving, so we managed that much.”

“How did you make contact?”

“So, we finally got found by a hunting party, and goddamn was that a mindfuck. They were obviously Stone Age. We’d just figured we were lost in Africa when we saw the lion, and maybe some weird world without people when we found the bear as well. We met them, and I knew there were a couple of remote tribes, but all tropical. This wasn’t tropical.”

“What time of year when you arrived?”

“Fall, like this. It was fucking cold. We had trouble staying warm, basically wore everything we had. No frostbite, but lots of cold injuries otherwise. We finally figured out how to build beds every time we stopped. Not bed-beds, but layers of stuff to insulate us off the ground.”

Spencer said, “Yeah, that’s standard advice.”

“I know, but we didn’t remember it, and we were panicky and stressed and not sleeping.” The man picked at grass from the ground, looking nervous and tense.

Sean urged him, “That’s fine. Go on. You met a hunting party.”

“We went with them. One of our guys, Uhiara, figured to kill something with rifle fire to impress them. They ran off in a panic and we damned near started beating him before they came back.”

“Things were okay after that?”

“They were still scared, but we had another small deer for them. They gutted it right there and brought it along.”

“Okay.”

“So, we wound up back to their village. They were glad to see us.”

“Glad?”

“They smiled, offered food, wanted to check our stuff out.”

Spencer offered, “We had that, too.”

“Well, we didn’t speak a word of the language, but I made it clear I was umma for our group.”

“Go on.”

“They fed us. We gave them the meat we had left. They swapped some spearpoints and a couple of decorated blankets. We gave them some bits of MREs and pogey bait. They really liked it. They found a couple of huts for us and it was obvious we were welcome to stay.”

“Okay.”

“I was given my own place, and two women who made it very clear they expected me to…perform.”

Spencer shook his head and grimaced. “Fuck, I see where this is going.”

“Next morning, Argarak declared that he wanted the blond woman, and that he wasn’t interested in more cloth or other items. Well, he wanted those, too, but she had to be part of the deal.”

“Exogamy,” Caswell said. “Typical in this type of culture. It can be worked around with language.”

“We didn’t have any language, as I said.” He sounded very defensive.

Sean wanted him on track. “That’s fine. Go on.”

“So I asked if she was agreeable, for purposes of keeping good relations. We were all still in complete shock. But she agreed.”

Caswell sounded very tense as she asked, “And it didn’t occur to you that was a very bad idea, and a line you should never cross?”

“We had no other way to stay alive.”

She stopped talking and just stared. A moment later she shivered.

Goddamn. She’d been afraid of that the entire time. He’d thought she was crazy. But it had happened right here.

“So how did it work out with other men?”

“As far as?”

“Noirot’s actions.”

He still looked ashamed. “Oh, that. Well, they have a caste system. Argarak fucks any woman he wants, and has four who are exclusively his. The senior hunters all have a couple each, and dibs on any traveling parties with women, if Argarak doesn’t take first cut. Below that, most of the skilled hunters have a mate each. So does the knapper, the boat maker, the weaver. Then the unproven guys have their hands. That was pretty fucking creepy the first time one of them did it in view. Open hut, whacking away. They even have parties to do it.”

He didn’t need detail about that. “Okay. The experts will want more on that, but that’s enough summary for us. So, how many men has Noirot been involved with?”

“Four or five of the hunters. Argarak. Me, though I tried to get her to fake it.”

“What?”

“Look, I’m a chief. I’m expected to have a woman. I said we didn’t have to, but the next morning, they were joking about how quiet it had been and how she seemed unfulfilled. Did she want another round with the hunters? It…well…”

“Right. So, we’ll deal with this in the future, then when we get back to our time, a lot of this absolutely can’t be mentioned, and a lot more can only be mentioned to the specific research group. Your people are going to have to keep their mouths shut.”

“Acknowledged. Thanks for understanding.”

Sean replied carefully. “I didn’t say we understood. We’ll accept the facts and they’ll be addressed by experts.”

Cole was damp-eyed and almost blubbering. “Captain, I did the best I could, believe me.”

“I believe you. We had two vehicles with a good cross-section of content, and three people with specifically useful knowledge, even if it was theoretical to start with. And I’m an engineer. Building stuff is my job.”

Then he remembered. “Oh, who’s the father of her child?”

“We’re not sure. Not me, though. We did fake it after the first time. They insisted on watching.”

Sean must have looked amazed, because Caswell said, “That’s also common in early societies. They don’t have much entertainment, and they want to make sure the relationship is secure.”

“I’m amazed you could get it up like that.”

“It really wasn’t easy. I had to just shut my brain down and focus on…her.”

“Has she been with any of your guys?”

“Yeah. They felt left out and got irritated. I suggested it was a good diplomatic measure, just occasionally, to make sure they didn’t feel anyone was getting special treatment.”

Caswell stood and walked off. He didn’t blame her, and ignored it.

Spencer asked, “What about Oyo?”

“Argarak didn’t want her. I get the impression dark skin was a problem for him. Sorry.”

“Not your fault. And it’s actually good for the circumstances. So not him, but what about others?”

“Yeah, two of the hunters from time to time, just as diplomacy. And the flint knapper. We needed spears. Then she settled down with Breotah.”

Sex as trade goods. What a fucked-up situation. He now understood why Caswell had been so flipped out. He wouldn’t consider anything like this, but obviously, these guys did.

“Does Oyo have any kids?”

“No.”

“Okay. That’s a positive.”

Sean asked, “Where’s the rest of your military gear? You said it was hidden.”

“We stowed it in a cave.”

“After you came to the village, right? Do they know where it is?”

“Yes, but it’s a mystical cave. No one is allowed there. They had to ask other villages for permission first.”

“Why did you do that? Hide your gear?”

“We did some more hunting. They really didn’t like the noise, and said it was unmanly to use magic. Well, first they thought it was fucking awesome. But when we refused to share the magic rifles, they got nasty.”

“I can see that.”

“I sort of hoped they’d be found in that cave in the future, and someone would figure out what happened.”

“We didn’t. That cave probably is long eroded by our time, in a valley like this. Or, it collapsed.”

“Yeah. It was just a hope. And it seemed best to blend in. We kept most of our clothes, and boots. We got rid of everything tech oriented. Some of it we burned—phones, most of the armor carriers. The plates are hidden in the cave. We kept the rucks for use while hunting, and gifted half of them to the village.”

“We’ll need those back, too.”

Right then, Cryder’s voice came from his phone, even without it ringing.

“Armed element approaching. Larger than before.”

“Understood.” He rose and called, “Incoming hostiles, arm up and form up. New troops, stay near the fire and await instructions. Nonlethal response again.”

Dalton shouted, “Sir, should we send out a flanking or contact element?”

“Negative, but we may pursue afterward.”

“Roger that, sir.”

An arrow appeared in the ground, accompanied by a whisper and faint thud. It was crudely fletched, but effective enough.

Everyone scattered for weapons and position.

Cryder announced, “I count two seven, twenty-seven hostiles. Several appear to have bows, all have spears, some have supplemental short stabbing spears with shields atar dried hide.”

Elliott said, “We’d prefer not to kill them if we don’t have to.”

Cryder said, “That fits my instructions.”

He didn’t say it suited his preferences, Sean noted.

Everyone was up, weapons in hand, morphing them into stun setting. Spencer stood back and grabbed his AR-10, but didn’t shoulder it.

Lozano shouted something in their language. Three seconds in, he went silent in mid-syllable. The Guardians had either zapped him or soundproofed the tent. Either way was fine.

One of the hunters threw himself toward the wards at a full sprint. He obviously planned to get inside them even if he was knocked cold.

Apparently, the wards were programmed for that. They zapped him far enough out he sprawled for a dirt nap.

Another tried for a leap from a buddy’s back, for height. That didn’t work either. He hit the field, flopped down hard, possibly injuring neck and shoulder.

The arrows, though, and larger atlatl darts—those had been hard to ID until they were in use—and the occasional spear came over the top readily.

Arnet said, “These are proof against most direct fire. We’d need a heavier kit for indirect fire. Those also typically include interdiction and counterfire.”

“Yeah, this is serious harassing fire. I wonder how long they can keep it up.” He skipped sideways as he saw something dropping near him.

He called over to Hamilton.

“What did Lozano say?”

“He said, ‘The tall pale hairs are the wizards, get them first.’”

“Ah. He’s just not learning.”

“He’s been very popular with the local women, and is an effective hunter. He really was enjoying it here.”

“Well, sucks to be him. And he’s making it suck for the rest of us.”

Elliott called, “Dalton, Spencer, Arnet if you’re free, we are forming a flying squad and flanking them.”

“Hooah.” “Hooah.” “Will do, Captain.”

Spencer called, “Sir, I only have actual firearms.”

He remembered. “Crap. Oglesby, you’re in.”

“Hooah.”

That left Cryder, Caswell, Doc, Spencer and Shug inside with the scientists and the recoverees.

“Spencer, arm up, you are in charge, keep things under our control.”


“Yes, sir,” Martin Spencer replied. He already had his AR-10 loaded and ready. He also understood the implication that the recoverees might still have mixed allegiance. He didn’t want to shoot anyone, but his options were limited. A .30 caliber bullet would stop any of them. Especially as this wasn’t a war zone and he had soft points.

Elliott’s patrol went out on left flank, uphill and past the vehicles, moving fast and low behind terrain features. Spencer kept an eye on the lost troops, wiggling the rifle to keep them near the firepit. It was a good, central location, far enough back from the fence to have warning of incoming shafts. Caswell and Doc zapped hostiles cold. Cryder was atop a vehicle where he could enfilade the troops by the fire or get clear shots at the attackers.

A swarm of zaps indicated Elliott making contact with the attackers, who quickly melted back into the woods and away.

As everyone returned and reset, he pondered just how completely international relations had been screwed up here. There was little possible to make things worse.

But if there was, they’d probably run into it.


Amalie forced herself calm. The Byko tech was good, and the forcefield did its job. She knew what the weapons could do. It was over quickly, and they were still secure. Good. She really did wish she had her Ruger or her XD. The Byko weapons were better, but not handy. She wanted something on her person. She’d ask. It might be something they’d agree to.

The immediate issue was poor little Kita. The kid was hysterical, having seen tribal warfare between one group her mother and she belonged to, and the ones they were with now. She alternated blubbers and screams.

Oglesby was nearby and said, “Fuck.”

“What specifically?” she asked.

“She’s saying, ‘I want to go home,’ near as I can tell.”

This just got worse all the time. The Army really hadn’t planned ahead for anything. These troops had experience with Paleos, and even they were struggling.

“I need to talk to the captain before we do anything further,” she commented. “Meantime, get the little girl some candy, and bring a poncho liner.”

“Hooah, ma’am,” Oglesby replied, and bounded off. He seemed glad to be away from the domestic issue for the moment.

Noirot was cuddling the girl, or trying to, and making murmurs of reassurance.

Oglesby came back, handed over the poncho liner. He also had a lollipop from the kitchen. Perfect. Amalie took it and carefully squatted down next to the girl and her mother.

“Kita,” she said softly. “Here.” Slowly and gently, she put the slick, soft fabric against the girl’s face and hands.

The girl rubbed her cheek against it, then clutched the thin blanket to herself. That helped.

Then Amalie held out the bright blue sucker, probably berry flavored. She drew it back, took a lick to demonstrate, and then handed it over.

The girl took a cautious lick. Her eyes opened, then she stopped crying as she stuffed the candy in her mouth. Her shrieks and wails calmed to periodic sobs.

“You wrap up in that and get all cuddly, okay?” she suggested. The girl wouldn’t understand a word, so she added signs and pantomime, pointing at a spot under the CQ awning that had a floor, corner, and desk. It was a little cave that should be less restrictive than a tent but provide shelter and reassurance.

“Thank you,” Noirot said. She sounded grateful.

She replied, “It’s fine. This is going to be difficult for her. Does she know any English?”

“No, we weren’t bothering. I figured when she was older I’d teach her some as a code.”

Understandable. “Okay. Well, switch to English now. She’s young enough to pick it up.”

“Will she remember our language?”

“The one you’ve been speaking? I doubt it. I don’t remember any of my childhood language. Unless you make a point to use it.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dr. Raven.” The woman seemed relieved and less stressed.

“You’re welcome. I can’t babysit with my duties, but if she’s occupied with something I can watch her briefly while you manage a task, or shower, or whatever.”

“Oh, yes, please.”


Sean Elliott breathed deeply to recover. He had a bruise from diving behind a rock, grass burns, and some aches. Otherwise, he felt good. They’d responded, zapped a bunch of hostiles, ended the engagement textbook fashion, and with non-lethal weapons, he had no moral quandaries about the guys he’d hit. The Byko weapons were awesome, once you learned how to control them.

He stowed the…ray gun, he decided. They’d never named them. It went on a rack, Cryder secured them with some gadget or other, and he trod back to the firepit. A few points and orders, and it was again clear for debriefing.

“Okay, Lieutenant Cole, we’re looking for how many rucks exactly?”

The man replied “Five.” He sounded sure of the number. Good.

“Who has them?”

“The senior hunters. I don’t know if they’re all in camp right now.”

Sean nodded. “Understood. What else might be there we need to recover? Absolutely anything of ours. And I do mean anything.”

“Uh…Munoz had a porn mag in his gear. We offered that as trade, and they basically split it up.”

Spencer said, “We can probably not worry about that. It won’t last twelve thousand years.” He was still slinging the AR-10.

Cole suddenly looked interested. “Oh, is that where we are?”

Spencer said, “Yeah, just after a cold snap called the Younger Dryas event.”

“They—the tribe—talk about how it’s getting warmer.”

Spencer agreed. “It is.”

Sean asked, “Okay. Anything else?”

Cole seemed to suddenly remember. “Ah, Argarak has a modern knife. I showed him how to sharpen it against a rock.”

“That we absolutely have to get.”

“Burnham made paracord bracelets until he ran out. Four of them.”

“Do you know who has them?”

“Yes, Argarak, Magliku—”

Those probably weren’t an issue. Nylon would decay in time, even if buried. “That’s fine. We’ll follow up. Anything else?”

“No, sir. We didn’t have much to share. Oh, some empty brass as jewelry.”

“How many?”

“I, uh, didn’t keep track.”

That made sense, but it was unfortunately a totally unacceptable answer.

“Lieutenant, I know it’s going to be inexact, but it is absolutely essential that we have that information.”

The man looked very serious and worried. What was a rescue could easily turn into disciplinary action up to a court-martial.

He said, “Captain, if I had it, I’d tell you. There was a handful from hunting. Maybe ten or so.”

“We’ll need to debrief each individually until we know. Make that the first question, Sergeant Spencer.”

“Will do, sir. I wish we had Trinidad here. He was the intel type.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to fake it.”


After the small raid, regular duties resumed. The captain was doing his debrief, others handling chores. The recoverees were giddy at getting phones, even if they could only call one another and run movies and music from the limited database. Even Lozano grudgingly accepted one.

Armand did like being useful, and damn, these people needed care. He could write a paper on the contrast between an element with an actual medic and one with only combat lifesavers. They’d all been taught things they needed, but hadn’t done them. Then, of course, his element had contained experienced reenactors and maintained discipline. As much as it sucked, they’d come out okay. This element had fallen apart and they were lucky they were still alive.

Oyo was next.

“I need one of the females to help with questions.”

Arnet tapped his phone, and in a few moments, Dr. Sheridan arrived.

“Hello, Doctor,” he said. “I need a female for support while we examine Sergeant Oyo.”

“I can do that,” she said. “Where should I sit?”

“Right there is fine, minimizing gawkers, unless she wants you somewhere else. It’s her call.”

She replied, “Perfect, Armand. I’m already impressed.”

“By?”

“How you’re handling this, and the medical process.”

“Thanks, though Arnet is responsible for a lot of it.”

“Yes, but he’s from the future.”

Armand wasn’t entirely sure what that had to do with patient support, but it seemed she meant well, and he didn’t want to get her blabbing at length the way she did. He decided to move on.

“Thank you,” he said, and left it at that.

Oyo arrived. They went through the same procedure. Plug in the monitor, questions, check general fitness.

“Okay, I need you to strip so I can make a visual, but no probing unless there’s an issue. Any issues?”

“No, I feel great. That was the first night I wasn’t itching from flies and fleas. God.”

“Excellent.”

She unbuttoned and removed her blouse, pulled her support tee off, slid her pants down. He took a quick glance. She’d apparently already made use of a razor. Her thighs and groin were less worn than the others, but did have some scars, possibly from bites, possibly abrasion. Healed, not critical.

Her feet were about the same as he’d seen so far, but one toe looked broken.

“Yes,” she agreed. “A while back. I kicked a rock late at night. It hurt for a few days, but hasn’t been bad since.”

Arnet said, “That’s an easy fix for us.”

Her nails and calluses were impressive. Arnet had more lotion.

Armand noted, “You have a couple of minor scars. Any problems? Or you can deal with that with docs back home.”

“Fine for now, thanks, Sergeant.”

She redressed. He noticed her scalp was in good shape, no dandruff. That might be due to her hair oil, or possibly diet and hormones. He made a note.

“How’s your cycle been?”

“Uh, very irregular, and long, and painful.”

“How long?”

“Five weeks and a bit at the longest. Four weeks is about normal, and that was some of the time.”

“Cramps or otherwise?”

“Cramps and heavy bleeding.”

“Arnet, does your equipment show anything?”

“There’s a potential hormone imbalance. I’m letting the system adjust slightly. We can do more later if we need to.”

Armand said, “Also, we have hygiene supplies. Help yourself as needed.”

“Oh, fantastic. Leather and moss is not comfortable.”

“Yeah, our females had to improvise.” Well, one had. Alexander had been ablated and didn’t have any periods. Still.

“And we’re going to check your teeth.”

Hers were in fine shape, well spaced, cleaner than Hamilton’s, and no sign of cavities. Arnet handed him the general rinse that took care of tartar and bacteria. She swilled, spit.

“You’re good to go. Call any time it’s an emergency, and we hold sick call at oh nine hundred every day.”

“Hooah, Doc, thanks.” She seemed very relieved.

“You’re welcome. Send Uhiara up, please.”

As she strode away, Sheridan said, “Did you catch that?”

“Catch what?”

The scientist turned and asked, “Arnet, can I see your metabolic info on her? In English?”

“I think so, stand by.”

He made some adjustments and handed a tablet over.

Sheridan swore.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What?”

“Painful, irregular, messy periods. Miscarriages. She’s been pregnant several times and never caught. Something incompatible, instant flush.”

“That sucks, but it’s good there aren’t more kids.”

“Yeah. Arnet, when you said imbalance…”

“Yes, she may be pregnant now. Under ten days. I impaired it. It’s not supportable under the circumstances.”

“On the one hand, she really should have a choice. On the other, the same thing is almost certainly going to happen. And on the gripping hand, a child would be a massive complication.”

“Gripping hand.” Armand understood that reference.

“Incompatible how?”

“At a guess, blood group or chromosome errors, or similar. She’s from a different time frame with background on a different continent. We don’t know how old our blood types are, though probably older than this by a good margin, but for example, modern native South Americans are all O type. The settlers of the Americas split off from proto-Eurasians, mostly A. Rh factor matters significantly. There are others less important to us, but could be critical back here. Or, she may just have trouble conceiving. Endometrial issues or some other matter.”

Arnet said, “I can easily check, but it’s not important at this time.”

“Right. She’s conceived, lost them, been in pain, and had no way to avoid it. Poor girl.”

No wonder a lot of officers wanted nothing but fit young men for the Army. Far fewer issues like this.

Armand said, “Well, she’s healthy at present.”

Uhiara arrived, and Armand told Sheridan, “Okay, Doctor, I’ll let you know if I have more questions.”

It went smoothly enough. Four had dental caries, though not as badly as he expected. They all had tartar buildup, and stuck shreds of meat and vegetable matter, which were worse. Several had significant foot calluses even by these standards, Burnham a bunion that would take some therapy in Bykostan. Under his cut hair, his scalp was an oozing mess.

“I didn’t like the dreadlocks,” he said. “But this itches and burns and stings. It’s nasty.”

Arnet noted something with his fingers on the air keyboard, pulled a vial from his unit, and said, “Apply this.”

Burnham took it, squeezed it out, rubbed it in, and said, “Fuck, that burns. But the itching and stinging has stopped.”

“It’ll be fine tomorrow,” Arnet assured him.

The Bykos didn’t consider scars an issue in the field, but he catalogued a bunch to be treated in the future. Parasites were already dealt with. There were skin lesions from abrasion, rash, bites, minor chemical issues. Some severe dandruff. Hamilton and Keisuke had torn off fingernails, and regeneration was in process. They’d start growing replacements within the week.

Arnet said, “They all have a local, low-grade genital infection, very likely sexually transmitted. Its easily fixed, and I administered an antibiotic. It presents as a very mild form of syphilis.”

He called Sheridan back over about that matter.

The scientist nodded and replied, “That makes sense. There are related infections that are far less virulent, and some speculation that societies with more clothing caused it to evolve to be more aggressive.”

“Interesting,” Arnet said.

“You don’t have information on that?” she asked.

“I’m interested in what you know,” he replied.

She said, “That’s more Dr. Raven’s field. I’ll see if she can get you a summary. Or even a detailed account. I’m sure she can cover it for hours.”

Arnet smiled. “A brief will be fine, it’s personal curiosity only. I’m not a scientist, only an operator.”

He continued, “There was some bacteria and a virus they’re immune to, but will need additional Byko clearance.”

Armand wasn’t quite clear on what he meant by “clearance.” He asked, “You mean they’re carrying a virus and it will have to be taken care of in your time?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Clearance can also refer to approval.”

The man nodded. “I understand. It will need treatment.”

“Got it.”

Sheridan said, “I would like whatever data you can share, and any bio samples I can get from them. This is very relevant to my interests.” She looked pleased, by a disease. “And I’ll have some blood grouping data, too.”

Lunchtime had everyone gathered around the fire. It was slightly cool, but within the capabilities of the clothing, and they were all used to outside activity. Still, Arnet had thoughtfully come up with a thick beef soup with crusty bread.

“God, bread,” Maldonado said. “I could eat a loaf.”

Armand reminded him, “Better not. You’re not used to it. Work up slowly.”

“Yes, sir. But it’s so good.”

“It really is.” Especially since it was made in the field.


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