3
"Easy, Jones."
The Regulator in front of Ianto had become an unintended brake for him as the platoon came to a quick halt. Ianto had been ruminating and drew himself back to the present just as they'd come to a halt, but not soon enough to avoid barging into Private First Class Alfredo Patrick. "Sorry, Patrick."
"Everything okay?" Pfc Patrick asked.
"Yeah, now," said Ianto. "Just needed a moment, you know?"
Pfc Patrick laughed. "No, I don't know. And if it's all the same, I don't want to find out."
Ianto smiled. He appreciated the candor of those around him. Though he was new to the unit, he was still a Regulator, still an orphan, and thus, still one of them. "Can't say as I blame you."
"Stand easy." The command came from the platoon staff sergeant.
It meant they could relax. It did not mean they could stop being careful. Though Ianto and Pfc Patrick were in conversation, they weren't looking at their boot toes. Each of them was watching a different section of building, scanning the windows and rooftops. Cpl Hallett and the other non-commissioned officers convened near a busted building. The front half looked as if it had slid down the back half, creating a pile of rubble backed by three stories of broken floors.
Ianto could see several living rooms and bathrooms. On the second floor, a couch teetered on the edge of its broken floor.
"The grass is always greener," Patrick said.
Ianto was confused. "What do you mean?"
"The Werlhogs. They over farmed their land, didn't use best practices, and now they can't grow traditional crops. Rather than adapt, they decide they like the Souianian's land better. Green grass."
"There's remediation." Pvt Palmer had moved over to where Ianto and Pfc Patrick stood. She was watching the buildings behind them. "If they'd stop attacking the Souianians, our techs and scientists could show them how to repair the damaged soil."
"That takes years," Ianto said. His eyes were drawn to movement on the rubble where the NCOs were. A four legged creature and a Regulator were stepping gingerly across the debris, placing bright orange flags in one area.
"Exactly," said Palmer. "Which is why they won't stop and listen. Self-serving greed trumps all."
"Is that a Wolfkat?" Ianto pointed to the rubble and the two figures slowly stepping down and off the broken concrete and lumber.
Cpl Patrick took a quick look. "Yep. Seen one before. Petted it."
"You didn't," Pvt Palmer said. She sounded more amazed than doubtful.
"On the loading deck. It was going in a drop-ship next to mine. Handler told me how to pet it and I did. Even gave me a chirp."
As Ianto understood it, Wolfkats gave every scent a chirp. And every human smelled different, so each would get a different chirp like a name. "You think that could be the same one?"
"Don't know," Pfc Patrick said with a shrug. "But if it was, it'd remember me. They don't forget. Ah, here comes the corporal."
All of the NCOs were hustling back to their squads and fireteams. Cpl Hallett, along with Sergeant Johnny Jacobs stopped where Ianto and the rest of the fireteam were standing. Sgt Jacobs waved at the other fireteam in the squad. "Bring it in."
Cpl Andre Walker and his fireteam joined the rest of the squad. Ianto noticed the other squads huddling as well.
"Okay, squad," Sgt Jacobs said. "The Wolfkat has identified several people still alive under that rubble. 2nd and 3rd squad have the perimeter. We have digging detail. The flags on the rubble mark where the Wolfkat's chirp was strongest. Secure your gear with Cpl Figueroa and form a line. The lieutenant is going to drop a couple eyes and hands into the rubble. Try and get a look. Once the lieutenant gives us the signal, we need to go fast. Go fast but also safe. Everyone understand?"
A half dozen, "Yes, Sergeant," overlapped each other.
"Let's get to work, then."
They'd waited until Lt Curtis had finished her VR recon with the eyes and hands that had been dropped into the debris. The eyes were small enough to fit into the spaces between chunks of concrete, wood, and busted furniture, but they couldn't move. The hands had walked in after the eyes, pushing them along. Unfortunately, the debris was densely packed and the best view, according to the lieutenant, show a single hand that wasn't moving. They were going to have to move the debris either way. But lacking information on the people buried, they had to go slow, going down layer by layer, stepping lightly, moving lightly.
Everyone had to take a turn at the front, pulling up the awkwardly shaped debris and passing it to the next Regulator in line. The debris went from person to person and was then stacked off to the side. Ianto had already been at the front and was now two people back down the line when Pfc Sutton of the second fireteam sounded off. "Here! I found someone!"
He stepped back, almost tripping over his own heel. "But I don't think they're alive."
Regulator Specialist 1st Class Claire Reese scrambled across the debris with Ssgt Studibacker just behind her. She slid down the slope of the hole that 1st squad had been digging. The staff sergeant quickly disappeared from Ianto's view as he followed the Regulator.
"The Wolfkat said they were alive," Pvt Palmer said from behind Ianto. Cpl Hallett, who was moving up next to them, responded with, "Wolfkat's don't make mistakes. But, whoever this was, they could have died between being discovered and now. Wouldn't be the first time."
Most of the platoon had experienced the death of a fireteam mate, as they were almost always involved in some conflict somewhere. Ianto recalled without much effort the bombardment he'd been caught in. He'd hurried to help Pvt Zeller, who'd cried out for help just seconds prior. He'd died in those seconds, leaving a lifeless corpse for Ianto to turn over just as more artillery rounds came raining down.
"Jones? You all right?"
"Sorry, yeah," Ianto said. "Just a memory."
"Kids." Everyone turned as Ssgt Studibacker clambered over the edge of the hole. "We got two kids!"
In his arms, the staff sergeant was carrying a small body. Only the arms and legs, one shoe missing, were visible outside of the arms wrapped around it. He was met halfway off the pile by Lt Curtis. She held out her arms, accepting the small body. Ianto could see a dirty face streaked trails of old tears. It looked around with wide, open eyes.
"It's okay. It's okay," Lt Curtis said to the child as she slowly moved off the rubble.
"Momma. Momma," said the small child. The voice rasped the words.
Lt Curtis stroked the child's head, pushing dirt-caked hair out of the way. "You're okay, honey. You're okay."
A wail, that began as a distant whisper, bloomed into full- throated confusion as medSpc1 Reese stumbled out of the hole, a smaller body bundled in her arms. One small arm, the fingers clutching at the air, was the only thing visible as Reese worked her way off the rubble.
"They were both under the mom," Reese said. Her eyes were red and the dust from the rubble had been trapped in streaks of tears down her cheeks, making her look like something other than human. "She's been dead for days. We have to get the kids on fluids. They're dehydrated."
She passed the infant to Ssgt Studibacker and began opening up her med kit. The infant continued to cry, even as Ssgt Studibacker cooed and whispered to it. Reese started with the older child. She cleaned off one arm and started a bag of fluids with a patch to the area she'd rubbed clean. The baby appeared to be a different matter. Reese studied the baby while simultaneously attempting to sooth it with her own sounds and touch. The baby wasn't mollified by the sounds or actions.
"Internal injuries?" asked Lt Curtis.
"No, Lieutenant," MedSpc1 Reese said. "I ran a scan on them both before we pulled them out. The mom did a good job of saving them. Sacrificed herself."
Reese wiped at the tears that seemed to have started once again. She left a smear of ash across both cheeks, like the shadows of sparrow wings.
"You can't use a hydration patch on the infant," Lt Curtis said. She cooed at the baby but there still wasn't any relief from the incessant wailing. "Can we rig a bottle?"
"I can try, Lieutenant." Reese went back to her Regulator kit and started rummaging through it.
"Cpl Figueroa," Lt Curtis said. "Have Sgt Fisher send her squad by twos to the neighboring buildings. See if anyone is around. Ask if they know the family here or if they know of any relatives. Also, if they have bottles and formula to spare."
"Yes, Lieutenant." Figueroa popped a salute and then ran down the block where Sgt Holly Fisher was standing, watching in the direction of the crying baby.
"Not to complain, Lieutenant," said Ssgt Studibacker, "but this is beginning to hurt my ears."
"Right," said Lt Curtis. She took the baby in her arms which only seemed to drive the baby to louder cries.
"Any moment now, Reese."
"Yes, Lieutenant." Reese was still looking at different things in her kit. She looked like she was trying to build something from scratch with the wrong parts. "I'm trying."
Lt Curtis nodded, looking, then said. "Sgt Jacobs. Your turn."
The baby was passed to Sgt Jacobs. He cooed and bounced the infant but received nothing but the sounds of displeasure for his efforts. He managed to last five minutes before he turned and looked at Cpl Hallett. His raised eyebrows said enough and Hallett grudgingly came forward and took the baby. The was was a pause in the crying and Hallett smiled smugly at Sgt Jacobs as if to say, that's how it's done. But, in that moment, the baby started again with renewed vigor. The smile faded from Hallett's face and she rocked the baby, whispering to it that it was a 'pretty baby, aren't you? Just a pretty thing.'
Short of five minutes and she called Pfc Patrick over.
"I'm not any good with kids," Patrick said as he reluctantly took possession of the crying baby.
"Do any of us look like with have the solution, Patrick?"
"No, Corporal." Patrick tried cooing, singing, and bouncing, but all of it was given the same response by the baby. He lasted less than three minutes.
"Oh, stars," he said and stepped up to Ianto. "You're turn, Jones."
Ianto knew better than try to argue his way out of it. His only solace was that he had to hold the bundle of screams and cries for five minutes and then Pvt Palmer could have her turn. He cradled the infant as the others had. His ears began to ache with the volume of displeasure the baby emitted. He noticed as it cried, that its hair was caked with dirt. As a distraction for himself, he began to slowly break apart the dirt and pull it away from the fine hair of its head. His fingertips lightly brushing against her forehead. Without warning, the baby opened its eyes. Ianto looked down at it, seeing the dark brown irises. The baby stopped crying as it returned Ianto's gaze. Unsure if he should do anything different, Ianto continued to free the baby's hair of dirt while looking at its eyes and offering a smile. The baby responded with its own smile, sans teeth.
"Congratulations, Jones." Ianto saw Lt Curtis approaching from one side. "You're a dad."
.
.
Jack and John were grateful to have made it to Inyan with The Torchwood still in one piece.
The jumps they made on the way had gone without incident; the problems with the ship only became apparent while they were flying through regular space, recharging their dark matter collectors in preparation for the next jump. During those times, the ship continued to complain loudly and threatened to fall completely apart on several occasions. John had been able to use his rudimentary knowledge of starship mechanics to keep the ship barely cobbled together for the journey.
The first thing Jack had done when they landed at the Space Port outside Dax's home city was to find a repair shop that could take his ship right away. Although the shop had other appointments and obligations to other clients, Jack was able to expedite the repair of The Torchwood by offering a generous tip - off the books, of course - payable upon completion of the work. If there was one thing you could count on during a conflict, it was that money would speak louder than words every time.
The battle was on the other side of the planet, far from this little Zen spot and a few days here would be all they needed to convince the Welshorian to assist them… again… for a price. Namely, a ticket off this rock before it is blown from the black.
After some haggling, the owner of the shop, whose upright-walking, cat-like form stood as high as Jack, accepted his offer. They shook on the deal and he assured Jack that his ship would be in a repair bay within the hour.
Time to find Dax.