Here's part two. I got a lot done over the summer, so I'm putting a bunch of chapters up at once. I hope I get a lot of reviews, cause I eat that kind of stuff up, and I always appreciate the c adn c.
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Without further ado....
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"Mr. and Mrs. Segrin... your son is ten years old. The minimum registration age here is sixteen. However, I received a few letters of reference from the universities, as well as the Center for Science and Engineering, strongly recommending his enrollment, and I'm highly anxious to see how he would fair in the intelligence department." Colonel Haggerty sat in a large, antique leather chair, leaning forward on his elbows and pressing his fingertips together. His silvery hair was cropped short, and there were many lines on his face, but his countenance was as friendly as it was authoritative. Torant and Nehinn held each other's hand and furrowed their brows nervously, but they weren't so uncomfortable to the point of squirming in their seats.
"Well, Colonel, before you jump to conclusions, we just wanted to make sure that you understand we do have a few concerns. We come from Balto, as you know-" Torant began.
"Yes, yes." Col. Haggerty nodded his head and waved his hand dismissively. "That's a pacifistic planet, I know. That treaty with Doom was very weak, and the Alliance knew too well that it was a short matter of time before they broke it. But we do keep in mind the planets and star systems that are neutral territory. Earth is the safest place you could bring your son-"
"We understand, Colonel, but what my husband was going to say was that while Pedrian is extremely sharp and probably smarter than the three of us sitting here put together, he is also still just a little boy. He likes to play outside and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. His feelings get hurt easily, he still cries if he has a nightmare, he's scared about being left here when we go home..." Nehinn trailed off for a moment, collecting herself to keep words from pouring out into random, incoherent babbling. She then said carefully, "I don't know whether he remembers his real parents or not. He doesn't talk about them and the way in which he lost them was traumatic enough that the psychiatrist said there was a good chance he has repressed those memories in the four years he's lived with us. That's why Torant and I have made sure to give him as wholesome a family environment as we could. I'm just concerned that he'll still have a childhood. And I want to make sure that he will be taken care of and given the proper guardianship he needs."
Colonel Haggerty sat in silence for a moment, studying what he thought at first to be a typical worried mother. He usually had practiced words of encouragement and persuasion for just such parents, but he had to take a moment to figure out how to revise the parts that involved telling them that their children were old enough to have responsibilities and take care of themselves. He usually assured them that their sixteen to eighteen year old sons and daughters were at an age when they could be left to fend for themselves in an environment of challenge and independence. He wasn't used to taking in child prodigies.
As the Colonel was turning his brain inside out for something to say, thirteen-year-old Chip Segrin was doing exactly the same thing as he sat outside the office, on a wooden bench in the hallway. Next to him, his younger brother looked fearfully up at him with wide, expectant eyes. Brenda sat on the other side of the middle child, swinging her legs almost violently back and forth underneath her.
"What are you so scared for, kid?" Chip finally asked in exasperation. "This is supposed to be really cool. Mom and Dad won't be around to make you eat your vegetables and go to bed at eight o'clock." He looked down to find it wasn't working. His little brother only wrinkled his eyebrows closer together.
"I don't care about the vegetables. I don't want to be this far from home. Why can't I just go back to the Center for Science and Engineering? I thought they needed me there."
"You want me to stay here with you, Pidge? I hate going to bed!" Brenda claimed in her usual louder-than-necessary voice.
"It's not like you won't see us again." Chip tried. "I know mom will call every day, plus you'll come home for holidays, and in maybe a year or two, they'll let me in, and you won't be all by yourself." This was working. Pidge was softening. At least it looked like the fear was starting to fade from his face. One of the rare moments it would. Pidge always seemed to be on a short leash that was held on the other end by fear. Chip couldn't explain it. The doctor had called it anxiety, and gave Pidge medications for it. There were always medications. Medications to help him sleep, medications to lower his blood pressure, medications for migraines. It seemed there was always something wrong with Pidge, and seemingly, the only cure the doctors could come up with was to give him medications.
Exercise had helped to eradicate the need for some of the prescriptions. Their mom and dad had insisted on it, despite the doctors' adamant orders not to. So, the past three years he joined Chip in martial arts and Brenda in gymnastics. Already he had amazing agility and strength for a ten-year-old. It had also helped to relieve all the tension he had a habit of acquiring. Usually tension -as well as all the things that required medications- came from things like learning yet another language to add to his repertoire, or from a difficult project. Pidge was a kid who put his entire focus into one thing at a time, and every project required absolute and complete concentration. It seemed ridiculous at first, but then everyone saw how fast and efficiently he completed each project. It was amazing. He found answers to problems or hypothesis for, say chemistry, within a day or two where it would take another scientist two or three weeks to figure it out. Pidge wasn't just a prodigy; he was a genius. And the life of a child genius was a hard one, no matter how much his parents tried to make it easy. Chip could never feel envious that his little brother was smarter than he was. He was too busy feeling sorry for the poor little bugger.
"If I know mom and dad," Chip said, putting an arm around his brother's shoulders, "they'll make absolute certain that you won't be a bit lonely... and, more likely than not, you'll be so busy doing all kinds of fun stuff you won't even have time to feel homesick."
"Fun stuff? In a space academy that trains for war?" Pidge's cynical tone made Chip cringe. He was losing him again.
"That's not all they do-"
"It's part of the military. Of course it's all they do. Ever since Doom broke their peace treaty with the Alliance. They need all the people they can get right now. Every little thing I do, every bigger and better weapon that gets built, every ship that gets updated and remodeled, will help toward the war and helping the Alliance win. We were brought up to reject warfare and conflict and to honor pacifism."
"I know, kid, but if the Alliance loses to Doom, so does everyone else because if Doom conquers all the planetary systems within the war zone, all the planetary systems in the neutral zone will be their next target. Doom's ultimate goals from the beginning had always been first galactic control and then universal control. That whole treaty was just a façade on Zarkon's part, because he was just looking to build up his forces without the trouble of fighting off the defenders at the same time." Chip knew Pidge had heard it all before, but smart as he was, the kid still sometimes refused to let certain things sink in, and they had to be repeated to him. Things like power-hungry blue aliens that scavenge the galaxy like locusts, destroying planets and taking prisoners to add to their growing number of slaves. Things like neutral territory meant very little to the Doom Empire, and if they overthrew the planets that were specifically at war with them, the neutral planets would surely be next. "Mom and Dad would never make you do this if they didn't think it was in everyone's best interest."
Brenda, not fully comprehending what Chip was talking about, sat there in polite silence, watching Pidge as he sulked with resignation. She never got involved with her brothers' discussions. Her self-appointed job was simply to take care of her siblings and be there for them, humoring them or getting them to play and act their age when needed. She was aware that her brothers were exceptional boys, but she would never want to have to do all the boring, hard stuff they were made to do all the time. Every night she went to bed, and she prayed to the gods, thanking them that she wasn't cursed with the gift of brains like Chip and Pidge were. Heavens knew she loved her brothers, but they were down and outright geeks. At least Chip was. Pidge was still young enough to maybe be saved from the dorky clothes and school nerd-clubs that Chip was involved in. Hopefully, this academy would be the place for him to explore style and culture, develop a sense of self and color.
There was a faint beeping, and a quiet swoosh as the office door opened and Mrs. Segrin poked her head out. She looked down at her three children, little angel faces in her eyes, all sitting side by side. One bore a look of encouragement, one a look of mild betrayal, and the third an expression of pure and innocent affection. Brenda always trusted every decision her parents made. "Pedrian, Colonel Haggerty would like to speak to you, honey." She was to only one who ever actually used his real name these days. And that was just sometimes.
Resolutely, the small boy slid off the bench, looking a bit like he was in trouble and awaiting punishment. Nehinn gently herded him into the office, and the door slid shut behind them. The hallway was quiet once again. Brenda stopped swinging her legs and sighed before sliding over next to her bigger brother. "Pidge doesn't want to go here."
"He'll like it. Just you watch."
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Xelda Lien tried not to walk too fast despite her long legs and the practiced - not to mention expected - habit of hustling everywhere she went. Still the little kid, beside and a bit behind her, was taking two steps for every one she took. She had been assigned by the Colonel to be his temporary guardian until they were able to establish a regular routine for him. She felt kind of bad for him. His family had said their good-byes and left only an hour ago to go back to their planet, and now here he was, all by himself in a strange place, and only...
"How old are you?" She asked as gently as possible. He was solemnly studying the linoleum floor in front of him as they traveled toward the facilities wing. He looked up momentarily, politely.
"Ten."...And only ten years old. Cute little thing. Kind of like a little elf. A little bit alien; he was from Balto right? A little smaller than folks from Earth, Baltonians also tended to be a bit leaner, and the eyes were slightly bigger. Also, they aged just a little slower. Perhaps that's why he looked younger than ten. Before, she had thought he was maybe seven or eight at most.
It was almost pitiful watching him say farewell to his family. He had looked so forlorn until, when his mom was hugging him, she murmured for a while, in a low voice, into his ear. After a moment or two Xelda realized that she was singing something to him. Whatever it was, he visible relaxed afterwards, and after the family left, he stood with a little more determination in his stance. But the hour had passed, and already he looked a bit like he was starting to wilt. Xelda tried to think of a way to start a conversation that would hopefully distract him from his moping. What does a person talk about with a ten-year-old genius?
"What sort of hobbies do you have - what's your name again?"
The prospect of a conversation seemed to interest the kid. At least he wasn't walking with such reluctance now. "Pedrian Nichols. People call me Pidge though."
"Okay. And what sort of hobbies do you have, Pidge?"
"Well... I like video games... and botany. Do you like the outdoors Miss Lien? Do they have camping or anything like that around here?"
"Oh yeah. Some of the science groups go on backpacking expeditions sometimes. You might enjoy that. And Pidge, you can call me Xelda. As for the outdoors, I grew up in the city, so I'm more of a video game buff. What kind of games do you like? Have you ever played Storm Rage 5?"
"Yeah. I have a copy that I updated if you want to try it out sometime."
"Really? What kind of updates?" The walk to the uniform department where Pidge would be fitted took about fifteen minutes, and as they talked, Xelda found she was already starting to like him. He was an excellent conversationalist and absolutely charming. She had to give him credit too, for not being a spoiled, smug, stuck up little snipe like the one or two prodigies she'd had the misfortune to meet. Those kids knew that they were smarter and probably had been told too many times how "special" and "exceptional" they were, letting it go to their heads. Xelda sent out a silent thank you to the Segrins for knowing how to bring up a descent child.
After the boy had been measured, Xelda took him to eat at one of the nearest commons that were open all hours, usually for the unlucky junior officers who ended up with patrol jobs that could go to ungodly hours in the morning. She found, to her delight, a couple of friends lounging at one of the tables, a junior officer and two seniors about to graduate and be awarded the rank of officers, so she brought her new companion over to meet them after they had picked something to munch on.
"Hey Xelda! Who's the kid? Your little brother or something?" A guy in uniform, about twenty, with well-groomed brown hair and sharp blue eyes sat with his chair pushed back so he could prop his feet up on the table.
"Nope. Lance, I'd like you to meet Mr. Pidge Nichols."
"Oh. Perusing the younger male population now, are we, Xelda? Can't take the men your own age?" He pulled his feet down to shake Pidge's hand. "Nice to meet you. Lance Jackson. I represent the lollipop guild."
"The what?" Pidge asked in confusion, but Xelda took him by the shoulders and steered him away toward the other two guys, saying to Lance as she did so,
"Really, Lance, all the men your age are too easily comparable to two-year-olds. I needed a guy with much more maturity and mental capacity than that, so I went and found this charming little gentleman." She gestured toward the guy who was sitting across from Lance, with unruly black hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a uniform identical to Xelda's and Lance's. "This is Keith Feldman, role-model student and every teacher's and commanding officer's pet."
The said Keith rolled his eyes at Xelda before offering his hand. "Hi Pidge."
"Hi."
"Are you enjoying your visit here so far?"
Pidge snorted. "Is that what they call it now? Is it so you won't feel too attached to it?" At the weird looks he received, Xelda couldn't help but grin widely.
"Oh no, Keith. This isn't a tour. Pidge is a student here now. He's going to be working at his own pace and sharing duties with some of the technicians and medical officers around here. He's a scientist in... how many fields Pidge?" But Pidge was starting to turn red in the cheeks, feeling embarrassed at the stares he was receiving. Baltonians were, by nature, prosperous and advanced in education, and a prodigy wasn't so uncommon as to be greeted by such looks on his planet.
"Uh... chem- ah... chemical, medical, botanical, technical-"
"What?! They're letting a kid into the military? Did little MacGuiver here choose to join up? Or was he dumped into this correctional center by his parents because he made too much trouble or something?" Lance blurted angrily, forgetting his manners as was common. The red in Pidge's face was not out of embarrassment any more. As the little fellow puffed up, a look of absolute outrage in his statement, Keith cut in.
"Lance, shut up! You're out of line-"
"Well Jeeze Keith! Tell me where you see "ethical" written anywhere in this situation. We're in the middle of a friggin war! And here they are letting little kids into the military. Before you know it, they'll be breeding folks inside forts and bases just so they can assimilate them into mindless soldiers-"
"Lance." Came the calm voice of the black haired, clean cut, serious faced junior officer that sat on the other side of Keith. "Right now, because were in the middle of a war, this is the best place anyone with high intellect could be. It's how they develop the most logical and necessary, as well as the safest possible, strategies that will help bring an end to the war. I think you should go take a little walk and cool down before you say something you severely regret."
Lance stood up, his countenance still angry but apologetic nonetheless. "Sorry. Sorry." He turned to Pidge and put his hands in the air. "Sorry kid. Didn't mean to insult you or anything." He took a short breath. "Hope we can still be on good terms." Before he could get a response, he took off. "I'm going to go have a smoke and see Charlene." He threw a reconciling grin over his shoulder. "I'll introduce you to the girls later or something, hey kid?" And then he left the commons. Keith let out a long exasperated hiss and Xelda rolled her eyes.
"Don't ever let anything Lance says get to you, Pidge." She said reassuringly as she pulled up two chairs for her and Pidge to sit in. "He's just a very passionate person in absolutely everything he does."
Pidge, who was watching, in anger and confusion, the door Lance had gone through, finally came down to a simmer and turned to the dark-haired young man who had admonished Lance. "Thanks, mister. That actually helped me acquire a purpose for withstanding my "visit" here."
"The name is Sven. Sven Hólmsteinnsen." He leaned forward a little. "Why are you here? If I'm not mistaken, you look like you come from Balto."
"Isn't that neutral zone?" Keith asked.
Pidge nodded. "The war is expanding, though, and our leaders have decided it would be best to send a few of their own to aid in the resistance against Doom, though discreetly. They feel that the Drule race is too tyrannical and barbaric to be allowed to overpower the Denubian galaxy."
"They are." Keith nodded solemnly. "Have you seen their warfare? Just hideous." He lifted his chin a bit to study Pidge. "They won't send you anywhere near the war zone, though. I don't think you'll have to worry about meeting any Drules face to face."
Pidge suddenly looked confused and perplexed, blinking hazily, but then he nodded. The conversation turned to lighter subjects then, and, after good-byes, later Xelda took him to a different building entirely, the research center, where he would be staying. There were a couple of floors with living quarters for the staff who were far from home.
"They told me in a week or so that they'll move you into one of the dorms and give you a roommate." She told him when they reached a long hallway and stopped in front of one of the doors. "For now, they want to get to know you and see what kind of capabilities you have. Here's your key card." Xelda then put her hands on his shoulders. "Your bags are right inside. I've been set up just down the hall, so you come to my door if you need anything at all, okay? I'm room 37C. Are you going to be all right?"
"Yeah. I'll be fine."
"I'll let you get settled in then. I'll come and knock on your door around eight hundred tomorrow. We've got to meet everyone and have them run a few standard tests. Then we'll tour the academy and show you around some more, okay?" Pidge nodded; something he'd been doing a lot that day. He thought his head might fall off at some point. "Okay, then. Goodnight, Pidge. Sleep well." She gave his hair a little tousle, then turned on her heel and went down to her room. After a deep sigh, the small boy swiped the card through the lock and entered his room. It was definitely only for temporary living. Just a bed, a small dresser and desk, and a door he suspected lead to a bathroom. He went to his bag that was on the floor and dug out a toothbrush. The bathroom was small too. After brushing his teeth, he changed into a pair of pajamas and crawled into the bed. Not too uncomfortable; just not his own bed, he thought forlornly. His mind wandered to the people he met earlier in the evening. The easily distempered as he was humored Lance, the solemn and composed Sven, and the focused and steady Keith.
Keith had said something slightly disturbing, Pidge suddenly remembered. He'd told him that he'd more likely than not, stay here on Earth or be stationed far from anywhere that proposed possible danger. That he wouldn't have to worry about meeting a bloodthirsty Drule Soldier face to face. Pidge almost thought he should have said something. But then, even he wasn't sure of it. The Segrins had told him that he should at least know. He should at least know that there had been an attack at the mobile settlement his real parents were stationed at, that they had been killed in the attack, and he had survived. But Pidge couldn't remember. He remembered that he'd had nightmares every time he closed his eyes for almost two weeks, that one night he startled awake, a scream caught somewhere deep in his throat, and then it was as if a door had been blown shut with a loud slam. Suddenly he had remembered nothing. A corner of his mind was totally locked away in the dark. Pidge didn't know whether it was a good thing or not. On the one hand, he remembered no attack, or meeting an alien soldier face to face. On the other hand, with the bad memories, he somehow lost the memory of his parents. He couldn't seem to recall a face or a voice except for tiny shadows and flashes, silhouettes within dreams. Perhaps one day, he thought. A few minutes later, he fell into a light slumber.
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Without further ado....
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"Mr. and Mrs. Segrin... your son is ten years old. The minimum registration age here is sixteen. However, I received a few letters of reference from the universities, as well as the Center for Science and Engineering, strongly recommending his enrollment, and I'm highly anxious to see how he would fair in the intelligence department." Colonel Haggerty sat in a large, antique leather chair, leaning forward on his elbows and pressing his fingertips together. His silvery hair was cropped short, and there were many lines on his face, but his countenance was as friendly as it was authoritative. Torant and Nehinn held each other's hand and furrowed their brows nervously, but they weren't so uncomfortable to the point of squirming in their seats.
"Well, Colonel, before you jump to conclusions, we just wanted to make sure that you understand we do have a few concerns. We come from Balto, as you know-" Torant began.
"Yes, yes." Col. Haggerty nodded his head and waved his hand dismissively. "That's a pacifistic planet, I know. That treaty with Doom was very weak, and the Alliance knew too well that it was a short matter of time before they broke it. But we do keep in mind the planets and star systems that are neutral territory. Earth is the safest place you could bring your son-"
"We understand, Colonel, but what my husband was going to say was that while Pedrian is extremely sharp and probably smarter than the three of us sitting here put together, he is also still just a little boy. He likes to play outside and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. His feelings get hurt easily, he still cries if he has a nightmare, he's scared about being left here when we go home..." Nehinn trailed off for a moment, collecting herself to keep words from pouring out into random, incoherent babbling. She then said carefully, "I don't know whether he remembers his real parents or not. He doesn't talk about them and the way in which he lost them was traumatic enough that the psychiatrist said there was a good chance he has repressed those memories in the four years he's lived with us. That's why Torant and I have made sure to give him as wholesome a family environment as we could. I'm just concerned that he'll still have a childhood. And I want to make sure that he will be taken care of and given the proper guardianship he needs."
Colonel Haggerty sat in silence for a moment, studying what he thought at first to be a typical worried mother. He usually had practiced words of encouragement and persuasion for just such parents, but he had to take a moment to figure out how to revise the parts that involved telling them that their children were old enough to have responsibilities and take care of themselves. He usually assured them that their sixteen to eighteen year old sons and daughters were at an age when they could be left to fend for themselves in an environment of challenge and independence. He wasn't used to taking in child prodigies.
As the Colonel was turning his brain inside out for something to say, thirteen-year-old Chip Segrin was doing exactly the same thing as he sat outside the office, on a wooden bench in the hallway. Next to him, his younger brother looked fearfully up at him with wide, expectant eyes. Brenda sat on the other side of the middle child, swinging her legs almost violently back and forth underneath her.
"What are you so scared for, kid?" Chip finally asked in exasperation. "This is supposed to be really cool. Mom and Dad won't be around to make you eat your vegetables and go to bed at eight o'clock." He looked down to find it wasn't working. His little brother only wrinkled his eyebrows closer together.
"I don't care about the vegetables. I don't want to be this far from home. Why can't I just go back to the Center for Science and Engineering? I thought they needed me there."
"You want me to stay here with you, Pidge? I hate going to bed!" Brenda claimed in her usual louder-than-necessary voice.
"It's not like you won't see us again." Chip tried. "I know mom will call every day, plus you'll come home for holidays, and in maybe a year or two, they'll let me in, and you won't be all by yourself." This was working. Pidge was softening. At least it looked like the fear was starting to fade from his face. One of the rare moments it would. Pidge always seemed to be on a short leash that was held on the other end by fear. Chip couldn't explain it. The doctor had called it anxiety, and gave Pidge medications for it. There were always medications. Medications to help him sleep, medications to lower his blood pressure, medications for migraines. It seemed there was always something wrong with Pidge, and seemingly, the only cure the doctors could come up with was to give him medications.
Exercise had helped to eradicate the need for some of the prescriptions. Their mom and dad had insisted on it, despite the doctors' adamant orders not to. So, the past three years he joined Chip in martial arts and Brenda in gymnastics. Already he had amazing agility and strength for a ten-year-old. It had also helped to relieve all the tension he had a habit of acquiring. Usually tension -as well as all the things that required medications- came from things like learning yet another language to add to his repertoire, or from a difficult project. Pidge was a kid who put his entire focus into one thing at a time, and every project required absolute and complete concentration. It seemed ridiculous at first, but then everyone saw how fast and efficiently he completed each project. It was amazing. He found answers to problems or hypothesis for, say chemistry, within a day or two where it would take another scientist two or three weeks to figure it out. Pidge wasn't just a prodigy; he was a genius. And the life of a child genius was a hard one, no matter how much his parents tried to make it easy. Chip could never feel envious that his little brother was smarter than he was. He was too busy feeling sorry for the poor little bugger.
"If I know mom and dad," Chip said, putting an arm around his brother's shoulders, "they'll make absolute certain that you won't be a bit lonely... and, more likely than not, you'll be so busy doing all kinds of fun stuff you won't even have time to feel homesick."
"Fun stuff? In a space academy that trains for war?" Pidge's cynical tone made Chip cringe. He was losing him again.
"That's not all they do-"
"It's part of the military. Of course it's all they do. Ever since Doom broke their peace treaty with the Alliance. They need all the people they can get right now. Every little thing I do, every bigger and better weapon that gets built, every ship that gets updated and remodeled, will help toward the war and helping the Alliance win. We were brought up to reject warfare and conflict and to honor pacifism."
"I know, kid, but if the Alliance loses to Doom, so does everyone else because if Doom conquers all the planetary systems within the war zone, all the planetary systems in the neutral zone will be their next target. Doom's ultimate goals from the beginning had always been first galactic control and then universal control. That whole treaty was just a façade on Zarkon's part, because he was just looking to build up his forces without the trouble of fighting off the defenders at the same time." Chip knew Pidge had heard it all before, but smart as he was, the kid still sometimes refused to let certain things sink in, and they had to be repeated to him. Things like power-hungry blue aliens that scavenge the galaxy like locusts, destroying planets and taking prisoners to add to their growing number of slaves. Things like neutral territory meant very little to the Doom Empire, and if they overthrew the planets that were specifically at war with them, the neutral planets would surely be next. "Mom and Dad would never make you do this if they didn't think it was in everyone's best interest."
Brenda, not fully comprehending what Chip was talking about, sat there in polite silence, watching Pidge as he sulked with resignation. She never got involved with her brothers' discussions. Her self-appointed job was simply to take care of her siblings and be there for them, humoring them or getting them to play and act their age when needed. She was aware that her brothers were exceptional boys, but she would never want to have to do all the boring, hard stuff they were made to do all the time. Every night she went to bed, and she prayed to the gods, thanking them that she wasn't cursed with the gift of brains like Chip and Pidge were. Heavens knew she loved her brothers, but they were down and outright geeks. At least Chip was. Pidge was still young enough to maybe be saved from the dorky clothes and school nerd-clubs that Chip was involved in. Hopefully, this academy would be the place for him to explore style and culture, develop a sense of self and color.
There was a faint beeping, and a quiet swoosh as the office door opened and Mrs. Segrin poked her head out. She looked down at her three children, little angel faces in her eyes, all sitting side by side. One bore a look of encouragement, one a look of mild betrayal, and the third an expression of pure and innocent affection. Brenda always trusted every decision her parents made. "Pedrian, Colonel Haggerty would like to speak to you, honey." She was to only one who ever actually used his real name these days. And that was just sometimes.
Resolutely, the small boy slid off the bench, looking a bit like he was in trouble and awaiting punishment. Nehinn gently herded him into the office, and the door slid shut behind them. The hallway was quiet once again. Brenda stopped swinging her legs and sighed before sliding over next to her bigger brother. "Pidge doesn't want to go here."
"He'll like it. Just you watch."
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Xelda Lien tried not to walk too fast despite her long legs and the practiced - not to mention expected - habit of hustling everywhere she went. Still the little kid, beside and a bit behind her, was taking two steps for every one she took. She had been assigned by the Colonel to be his temporary guardian until they were able to establish a regular routine for him. She felt kind of bad for him. His family had said their good-byes and left only an hour ago to go back to their planet, and now here he was, all by himself in a strange place, and only...
"How old are you?" She asked as gently as possible. He was solemnly studying the linoleum floor in front of him as they traveled toward the facilities wing. He looked up momentarily, politely.
"Ten."...And only ten years old. Cute little thing. Kind of like a little elf. A little bit alien; he was from Balto right? A little smaller than folks from Earth, Baltonians also tended to be a bit leaner, and the eyes were slightly bigger. Also, they aged just a little slower. Perhaps that's why he looked younger than ten. Before, she had thought he was maybe seven or eight at most.
It was almost pitiful watching him say farewell to his family. He had looked so forlorn until, when his mom was hugging him, she murmured for a while, in a low voice, into his ear. After a moment or two Xelda realized that she was singing something to him. Whatever it was, he visible relaxed afterwards, and after the family left, he stood with a little more determination in his stance. But the hour had passed, and already he looked a bit like he was starting to wilt. Xelda tried to think of a way to start a conversation that would hopefully distract him from his moping. What does a person talk about with a ten-year-old genius?
"What sort of hobbies do you have - what's your name again?"
The prospect of a conversation seemed to interest the kid. At least he wasn't walking with such reluctance now. "Pedrian Nichols. People call me Pidge though."
"Okay. And what sort of hobbies do you have, Pidge?"
"Well... I like video games... and botany. Do you like the outdoors Miss Lien? Do they have camping or anything like that around here?"
"Oh yeah. Some of the science groups go on backpacking expeditions sometimes. You might enjoy that. And Pidge, you can call me Xelda. As for the outdoors, I grew up in the city, so I'm more of a video game buff. What kind of games do you like? Have you ever played Storm Rage 5?"
"Yeah. I have a copy that I updated if you want to try it out sometime."
"Really? What kind of updates?" The walk to the uniform department where Pidge would be fitted took about fifteen minutes, and as they talked, Xelda found she was already starting to like him. He was an excellent conversationalist and absolutely charming. She had to give him credit too, for not being a spoiled, smug, stuck up little snipe like the one or two prodigies she'd had the misfortune to meet. Those kids knew that they were smarter and probably had been told too many times how "special" and "exceptional" they were, letting it go to their heads. Xelda sent out a silent thank you to the Segrins for knowing how to bring up a descent child.
After the boy had been measured, Xelda took him to eat at one of the nearest commons that were open all hours, usually for the unlucky junior officers who ended up with patrol jobs that could go to ungodly hours in the morning. She found, to her delight, a couple of friends lounging at one of the tables, a junior officer and two seniors about to graduate and be awarded the rank of officers, so she brought her new companion over to meet them after they had picked something to munch on.
"Hey Xelda! Who's the kid? Your little brother or something?" A guy in uniform, about twenty, with well-groomed brown hair and sharp blue eyes sat with his chair pushed back so he could prop his feet up on the table.
"Nope. Lance, I'd like you to meet Mr. Pidge Nichols."
"Oh. Perusing the younger male population now, are we, Xelda? Can't take the men your own age?" He pulled his feet down to shake Pidge's hand. "Nice to meet you. Lance Jackson. I represent the lollipop guild."
"The what?" Pidge asked in confusion, but Xelda took him by the shoulders and steered him away toward the other two guys, saying to Lance as she did so,
"Really, Lance, all the men your age are too easily comparable to two-year-olds. I needed a guy with much more maturity and mental capacity than that, so I went and found this charming little gentleman." She gestured toward the guy who was sitting across from Lance, with unruly black hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a uniform identical to Xelda's and Lance's. "This is Keith Feldman, role-model student and every teacher's and commanding officer's pet."
The said Keith rolled his eyes at Xelda before offering his hand. "Hi Pidge."
"Hi."
"Are you enjoying your visit here so far?"
Pidge snorted. "Is that what they call it now? Is it so you won't feel too attached to it?" At the weird looks he received, Xelda couldn't help but grin widely.
"Oh no, Keith. This isn't a tour. Pidge is a student here now. He's going to be working at his own pace and sharing duties with some of the technicians and medical officers around here. He's a scientist in... how many fields Pidge?" But Pidge was starting to turn red in the cheeks, feeling embarrassed at the stares he was receiving. Baltonians were, by nature, prosperous and advanced in education, and a prodigy wasn't so uncommon as to be greeted by such looks on his planet.
"Uh... chem- ah... chemical, medical, botanical, technical-"
"What?! They're letting a kid into the military? Did little MacGuiver here choose to join up? Or was he dumped into this correctional center by his parents because he made too much trouble or something?" Lance blurted angrily, forgetting his manners as was common. The red in Pidge's face was not out of embarrassment any more. As the little fellow puffed up, a look of absolute outrage in his statement, Keith cut in.
"Lance, shut up! You're out of line-"
"Well Jeeze Keith! Tell me where you see "ethical" written anywhere in this situation. We're in the middle of a friggin war! And here they are letting little kids into the military. Before you know it, they'll be breeding folks inside forts and bases just so they can assimilate them into mindless soldiers-"
"Lance." Came the calm voice of the black haired, clean cut, serious faced junior officer that sat on the other side of Keith. "Right now, because were in the middle of a war, this is the best place anyone with high intellect could be. It's how they develop the most logical and necessary, as well as the safest possible, strategies that will help bring an end to the war. I think you should go take a little walk and cool down before you say something you severely regret."
Lance stood up, his countenance still angry but apologetic nonetheless. "Sorry. Sorry." He turned to Pidge and put his hands in the air. "Sorry kid. Didn't mean to insult you or anything." He took a short breath. "Hope we can still be on good terms." Before he could get a response, he took off. "I'm going to go have a smoke and see Charlene." He threw a reconciling grin over his shoulder. "I'll introduce you to the girls later or something, hey kid?" And then he left the commons. Keith let out a long exasperated hiss and Xelda rolled her eyes.
"Don't ever let anything Lance says get to you, Pidge." She said reassuringly as she pulled up two chairs for her and Pidge to sit in. "He's just a very passionate person in absolutely everything he does."
Pidge, who was watching, in anger and confusion, the door Lance had gone through, finally came down to a simmer and turned to the dark-haired young man who had admonished Lance. "Thanks, mister. That actually helped me acquire a purpose for withstanding my "visit" here."
"The name is Sven. Sven Hólmsteinnsen." He leaned forward a little. "Why are you here? If I'm not mistaken, you look like you come from Balto."
"Isn't that neutral zone?" Keith asked.
Pidge nodded. "The war is expanding, though, and our leaders have decided it would be best to send a few of their own to aid in the resistance against Doom, though discreetly. They feel that the Drule race is too tyrannical and barbaric to be allowed to overpower the Denubian galaxy."
"They are." Keith nodded solemnly. "Have you seen their warfare? Just hideous." He lifted his chin a bit to study Pidge. "They won't send you anywhere near the war zone, though. I don't think you'll have to worry about meeting any Drules face to face."
Pidge suddenly looked confused and perplexed, blinking hazily, but then he nodded. The conversation turned to lighter subjects then, and, after good-byes, later Xelda took him to a different building entirely, the research center, where he would be staying. There were a couple of floors with living quarters for the staff who were far from home.
"They told me in a week or so that they'll move you into one of the dorms and give you a roommate." She told him when they reached a long hallway and stopped in front of one of the doors. "For now, they want to get to know you and see what kind of capabilities you have. Here's your key card." Xelda then put her hands on his shoulders. "Your bags are right inside. I've been set up just down the hall, so you come to my door if you need anything at all, okay? I'm room 37C. Are you going to be all right?"
"Yeah. I'll be fine."
"I'll let you get settled in then. I'll come and knock on your door around eight hundred tomorrow. We've got to meet everyone and have them run a few standard tests. Then we'll tour the academy and show you around some more, okay?" Pidge nodded; something he'd been doing a lot that day. He thought his head might fall off at some point. "Okay, then. Goodnight, Pidge. Sleep well." She gave his hair a little tousle, then turned on her heel and went down to her room. After a deep sigh, the small boy swiped the card through the lock and entered his room. It was definitely only for temporary living. Just a bed, a small dresser and desk, and a door he suspected lead to a bathroom. He went to his bag that was on the floor and dug out a toothbrush. The bathroom was small too. After brushing his teeth, he changed into a pair of pajamas and crawled into the bed. Not too uncomfortable; just not his own bed, he thought forlornly. His mind wandered to the people he met earlier in the evening. The easily distempered as he was humored Lance, the solemn and composed Sven, and the focused and steady Keith.
Keith had said something slightly disturbing, Pidge suddenly remembered. He'd told him that he'd more likely than not, stay here on Earth or be stationed far from anywhere that proposed possible danger. That he wouldn't have to worry about meeting a bloodthirsty Drule Soldier face to face. Pidge almost thought he should have said something. But then, even he wasn't sure of it. The Segrins had told him that he should at least know. He should at least know that there had been an attack at the mobile settlement his real parents were stationed at, that they had been killed in the attack, and he had survived. But Pidge couldn't remember. He remembered that he'd had nightmares every time he closed his eyes for almost two weeks, that one night he startled awake, a scream caught somewhere deep in his throat, and then it was as if a door had been blown shut with a loud slam. Suddenly he had remembered nothing. A corner of his mind was totally locked away in the dark. Pidge didn't know whether it was a good thing or not. On the one hand, he remembered no attack, or meeting an alien soldier face to face. On the other hand, with the bad memories, he somehow lost the memory of his parents. He couldn't seem to recall a face or a voice except for tiny shadows and flashes, silhouettes within dreams. Perhaps one day, he thought. A few minutes later, he fell into a light slumber.