Good Men

"The good man is the man who, no matter how morally unworthy he has been, is moving to become better." John Dewey

Chapter 3: Child Soldier

The boy moved quickly to Patterson's side. Like the guards he was dressed in black and he carried an old, battered leather bag under his arm. His bare feet made no sound as he crossed the dusty floor. "Is this the one Crane said is hurt?"

Kowalski nodded. "Will you run and get a doctor for him? He needs help as soon as possible."

"I'm the doctor," the boy said, not even glancing at them.

"Now, just a moment," Nelson began. He stopped as the boy looked up at him with cold, unblinking eyes. The admiral regrouped and changed his tack. "Are you sure you want to try this? Maybe someone just a little older..."

The child cut Patterson's sleeve away, baring the wound. "This isn't very difficult. A month ago I had to stuff a man's guts back into his belly. He lived two days. Storm, I need some light over here! Wind, bring hot water and some cloths—as clean as you can find."

The guard who had spoken with Nelson first came at his call and stood at his shoulder with a kerosene lantern. The large one left and returned with a steaming bowl, which he placed on the floor next to the child's dirty feet. The boy washed his hands thoroughly, then looked up at Nelson and Kowalski. "Hold him."

"Do you have something you can give him for the pain?" Nelson asked.

"I'm not wasting good medicine," the boy said with a sniff. "Do you know how hard it is to get supplies?"

"You little…" Kowalski began, but Nelson laid a restraining hand on his arm and shook his head.

"Patterson will manage. Hold his arms." Nelson leaned over the injured crewman. "Pat, can you hear me? This young man is going to take care of your wound. Here's my hand."

The admiral wished Patterson would lose consciousness while the boy cleaned and stitched the deep gash in his upper arm but the crewman remained awake, struggling to keep back the moans that fought their way up his throat. By the time the child finished and wrapped the wound carefully in a strip of cotton cloth, Patterson was exhausted and drenched in sweat and Nelson felt like an angry dog had mangled his hand. Gently, he removed it from Patterson's grip and shook it, wincing at the hot, prickling sensation as blood flowed back into his fingers. There was a nudge between his shoulder blades and he looked around to see the guard called Storm holding a cup. "Crane didn't drink all the rum," he said. "Give this to him. He needs it."

Nelson nodded his thanks and took the cup, lifting Patterson's head. As the crewman drank slowly, the admiral's gaze fell on the large guard. He'd crossed the room and was standing next to the cot where Lee lay motionless. Nelson's jaw tightened as the man lifted Crane's hand and examined it closely. "Look," he said to the boy, "do you see how fine his bones are? I could have broken them so easily." He shook his head, regretting deeds of mayhem left undone.

Kowalski was on his feet in an instant, but before he could intervene Crane blearily opened an eye. "Go away, Wind," he muttered. "Whatever you want to do to me can wait until I'm awake." He drew his hand out of the guard's and rolled toward the wall, turning his back on them.

Storm laughed, a deep, rumbling sound like summer thunder. "I'm starting to like you, Crane—just a little! Maybe I'll bet on you again sometime, after all."

"Why don't you bring them some food, if you like them so much?" the boy said pointedly, washing Patterson's blood from his hands.

As the guards withdrew, Nelson turned his attention to the child. "You don't like us, I take it?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't trust white men. You're all liars with secret plans. I watched Crane while Lord Hurricane questioned him. His voice said one thing but his eyes said another." He regarded Nelson closely. "You're the same." He held the admiral's gaze for a moment with his still, expressionless eyes, then looked away. "It doesn't matter. Lord Hurricane made a deal with Crane and we'll obey, but I'll be watching your captain. I'll be watching all of you." He stood as Storm and Wind returned with trays of food. "You should know," he said, "I've killed bigger men than that one." He gestured to Kowalski.

"I'm sure you have," Nelson said smoothly, his voice stopping the boy at the door, "but tell me this: are white men the only ones who keep secrets?"

The child's hand rested for a moment on the latch, unmoving, then he opened it and walked through without looking back.

"Don't pay any attention to Cloud," Storm said, setting the tray down beside Kowalski. "He's had a hard time of it since our doctor got it. He idolized Doc—followed him everywhere. There's an evil spirit holding the boy now." He uncovered simple dishes of rice, root vegetables, and fish, gesturing for them to eat. Nelson propped Patterson up while Kowalski carefully spooned rice into the wounded man's mouth.

"Be easy on Crane," Storm continued, "even if he did sell you out. The boss really didn't give him any choice. Tough luck for you, good for us."

"Crane better be alive in the morning," Wind said darkly. "If you take him out, Lord Hurricane will take you out."

"What do you think…?" Kowalski began, but Nelson cut him off with a quick glance.

"We won't be too hard on him," the admiral said, "but I'm not promising he won't feel our displeasure."

Wind grinned. "Good. Don't mess him up too much. Promise?"

"I'll try to control myself," Nelson said drily.

Satisfied, the two guards nodded to each other and rose. "Sleep," Storm said. "We'll be back in the morning for Crane."

Wind turned at the door. "Just don't break his hand, OK?"

X X X

Nelson woke to dappled, green light filtering through chinks in the walls and someone gently shaking his shoulder. He started, snorting, and opened his eyes to see clear amber ones regarding him closely. "Sir?" Crane was squatting next to him, his expression quiet and cool. Only the uneasiness in his eyes betrayed his anxiety about the events that transpired the night before. "I see they took care of Pat," he said before Nelson could speak, "and they fed you, didn't they?" His gaze took in Kowalski, snoring lightly in the corner.

The admiral nodded. "Our captors seem to think you've done something worthy of us taking you apart." He let the sentence hang between a statement and a question.

"Ah." Crane sat back on his haunches. "Yes, I can see why they'd think that. I'm sorry I woke you, but we have to talk before they come back."

"I'd like an explanation," Nelson admitted, "but before you say anything, tell me if you're really all right, and if you're going to continue to be all right when they take you to this Hurricane again. The truth, please, and credit me with the intelligence to know the difference between it and empty reassurances."

Crane smiled. "I'm fine, really— a little sore, but fine. Wind packs a powerful punch."

"Who are these people? You act as if you know them?"

"I do," Lee said simply. "Hurricane, Storm, and Wind, at least. The four of us shared a prison cell in the capital six years ago. I was on a mission for ONI at the time, posing as an American arms dealer. The three of them were political dissidents." His eyes grew distant as he remembered. "Three days. Three days we were together. I didn't think we'd get out alive, but some of Hurricane's men helped us escape. They ran one way, I ran the other." He shrugged. "Hurricane's gathered more men since then and harasses Wilson whenever he can, fighting a guerilla war. His men have even infiltrated the secret police. They had an operation planned for last night and we got in the way. They took out Wilson's boats as they'd intended, but were curious about who we were and why Wilson wanted us, so they picked us up. Storm recognized me in the water."

"Hurricane still thinks you're an arms dealer," Nelson said, suddenly understanding as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.

Crane nodded. "He wanted to know where my boat was and demanded I give him the guns I was running." He smiled wanly. "When I told him I didn't have any, he became… upset. He's a brutal, desperate man."

"And he let you feel his displeasure." Nelson reached out, almost touching Lee's cheek before drawing his hand back.

"They're dangerous people," Crane said. "Even unarmed, Wind killed three men when we broke out of prison. They were going to nail my hands to the table unless I talked." He looked away, unwilling to see the horror in Nelson's eyes. "I told them Wilson has found a way to extract gold from seawater. I told Hurricane I was here to find the facility and steal the gold." He glanced quickly at Nelson.

The admiral recognized Lee's expression, although he'd rarely seen it on his captain's face. It was the look of an uncertain child confronted by a stern parent: Did I do the right thing? Are you ashamed of me?

"Well," Nelson said softly, "I'm glad to have you back uncrucified." He gave Crane a reassuring smile. "Don't worry; I would have done the same. The situation's not as bad as I feared. We can work with this."

Crane swallowed, relieved. "That's what I thought, too. We'd lost our raft, our supplies, and Pat needed medical care badly. The mission couldn't go forward without help. Hurricane offered it, as well as guides to lead us overland to the facility. In exchange, he gets the gold we find."

"And if there is no gold?"

"Then we're in trouble," Lee said, "but until then, we're reasonably safe. Hurricane will keep his part of the bargain."

"I take it this bargain was sealed with a few cups of rum?" Nelson raised his eyebrow.

Lee grinned sheepishly. "Hurricane likes to be entertained, one way or another. I'll play court jester if I have to, if it keeps us alive."

"And what part do I play? And Kowalski and Patterson?"

"Hurricane can't find out who you are." Crane's expression became serious again. "If he gets even a hint of your real identity, he'll drop the gold scheme and hold you for ransom for millions of dollars, or demand Seaview. And we can't let him know I'm anything other than an arms dealer and soldier of fortune." Uncertainty crept back into his voice. "I told him you're my hired crew, just a bunch of work-a-day sailors promised a share of the gold."

"That's why Storm assumed we'd be furious with you," Nelson said. "He thought you'd traded our share of the profits to save yourself."

"And here I was counting on that gold," Kowalski drawled from across the room.

"How long have you been awake?" Crane said.

"Long enough, Skipper." Kowalski sat down at the table and ate some cold rice with his fingers. "Thanks for the food, sir, and for making sure Pat got some help. Things looked pretty bleak last night." He cast a relieved glance at Patterson, who was sleeping quietly on one of the cots.

Just as Lee started to reply the door of the room swung open, revealing Storm and Wind. The big man grunted approval to see the captain alert and on his feet. "Lord Hurricane is ready for you, Crane," he said. He frowned at Nelson and Ski. "Why're you so happy? You're poor men now."

Nelson shrugged, schooling his features to indifference. "Rich or poor, it doesn't matter as long as we're all alive." It was easy to sound convincing, since he truly meant it.