“Get some rocks,” John told them.

Kelly stripped off her parka, stretched her legs and knees. “Okay,” she said, “let’s do this.”

Sam lay down, clutching his leg. “Oooh—it hurts, help me.”

“Don’t overdo it,” John said, and kicked some dirt on him. “Or they’ll know it’s a setup.”

John and Kelly then crept toward the meadow and halted a few meters form the edge. He whispered to her, “If you want me to be the rabbit...”

She slugged him in the shoulder—hard. “You think I can’t do my part?”

“I take it back,” he said, rubbing his shoulder.

John moved off ten meters to her flank, took cover, and watched.

Kelly emerged at the edge of the meadow, stepping into the illumination from the dropship’s floodlights.

“Hey!” she said, and waved her arms over her head. “Over here. You got any food? I’m starving.”

The men slowly stood and pulled out stun batons. “There’s one,” John heard them whisper. “I’ll get her. The rest of you stay here and wait for the others.”

The man cautiously approached Kelly, a stun baton held behind his back so she couldn’t see it. She stayed put and waited for him to get closer.

“Hang on a sec,” she said. “I dropped my jacket back there. I’ll be right back.” She turned and ran. The man leaped after her, but she had already vanished into the shadows.

“Stop!”

“This will be too easy,” one of other men said. “Kids won’t know what hit them.” Another remarked, “Fish in a barrel.”

John had heard enough. He ran after Kelly, but realized that neither he nor the other man had a chance to catch her. He halted when he got close to where Sam lay.

The man stopped. He looked around, his eyes not quite adjusted to the dark, then spotted Sam on the ground holding his bloody leg.

“Please, help me,” Sam whimpered. “It’s broken.”

“I got your broken leg right here, kid.” The man raised his baton.

John picked up a rock. He threw it, but missed.

The man spun around. “Who’s there?”

Sam rolled to his feet and darted away. There was a rustling in the forest, then a hail of stones whistled through the trees, pelting the man.

Kelly appeared and sidearmed a rock as hard as she could—and hit the man dead center in the forehead.

He toppled and slammed into the ground.

The other children moved in. “What do we do with him?” Sam asked.

“It’s just an exercise, right?” Fhajad said. “He has to be with Mendez.”

John rolled the man over. A trickle of blood snaked from his head into his eye socket.

“You heard him,” John whispered. “You saw what he was going to do to Sam. Mendez or our trainers would never do that to us. Ever. He’s got no uniform. No insignias. He’s not one of us.”

John kicked the man in the face and then the ribs. The man reflexively curled into a ball. “Get his baton.”

Sam grabbed the weapon. He kicked him, too.

“Now we go back and get the others,” John told them. “Kelly, you be the rabbit again. Just get them to the edge of the clearing. Duck out, and let us do the rest.”

She nodded and started back to the meadow. The rest of the squad fanned out, collecting rocks along the way.

After a minute Kelly stepped onto the grassy field and shouted, “That guy fell and hit his head. Over here!”

The five remaining men stood and ran toward her.

When they were close enough, John whistled.

The air suddenly swarmed with stones. The men held up their hands and tried to protect themselves. They dropped and covered their heads.

John whistled again and sixty-seven children charged screaming toward the bewildered men. The men got up to defend themselves. They looked stunned—like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

Sam smashed his baton over a man’s head. Fhajad was hit squarely in the face by one man’s fist, and he fell.

The men were overwhelmed by a wave of flesh, beaten to the ground with fists and stones and boots until they no longer moved.

John stood over their bleeding bodies. He was mad. They would have hurt him and his squad. He wanted to kick in their skulls. He took a deep breath and then exhaled. He had better things to do and bigger problems to figure out—anger would have to wait.

“Want to call Mendez now?” Sam asked as he pulled Fhajad shakily to his feet.

“Not yet,” John told him. He marched onto the dropship. No one else was on board.

John accessed the COM system and opened the mail link. He linked up with Déjà. Her face appeared, a scratchy hologram hovering over the terminal.

“Good evening, Trainee 117,” she said. “Do you have a homework question?”

“Kind of,” he replied. “One of CPO Mendez’s assignments.”

“Ah.” After moment’s pause she said, “Very well.”

“I’m in a Pelican dropship. There’s no pilot, but I need to get home. Teach me to fly it, please.”

Déjà shook her head. “You are not rated to fly that craft, Trainee. But I can help. Do you see the winged icon in the corner of your screen? Tap it three times.”

John tapped it and a hundred icons and displays filled the screen.

“Touch the green arrows at nine o’clock twice,” she told him.

He did and then the words autopilot activated flashed onscreen.

“I have control now,” Déjà said. “I will get you home.”

“Hang on a second,” John said and ran outside. “Everyone onboard—double time!”

The children ran onto the ship.

Kelley paused and asked, “Who’s getting left behind?”

“No one,” John said. “Just get in.” He made sure he was the last on the ship, then said, “Okay, Déjà, get out us out of here.”

The dropship’s jets roared to life and it rose into the sky.

John stood at attention in Chief Petty Officer Mendez’s office. He had never been in here. No one had. A trickle of sweat dripped down his back. The dark wood paneling and the smell of cigar smoke made him feel claustrophobic.

Mendez glowered at John as he read the report on his clipboard.

The door opened and Dr. Halsey walked in. Mendez stood, gave her a curt nod and then sat back in his padded chair.

“Hello, John,” Dr. Halsey said. She sat across from Mendez, crossed her legs, and then adjusted her gray skirt.

“Dr. Halsey,” John replied instantly. He saluted. None of the other grown-ups called him by his first name, ever. He didn’t understand why she did.

“Trainee 117,” Mendez snapped. “Tell me again why you stole UNSC property... and why you attacked the men I had assigned to guard it.”

John wanted to explain that he was just doing what had to be done. That he was sorry. That he would do anything to make it up. But John knew the Chief hated whiners, almost as much as he hated excuses.

“Sir,” John said. “The guards were out of uniform. No insignia. They failed to identify themselves, sir!”

“Hmm,” Mendez mused over the report again. “So it seems. And the ship?”

“I took my squad home, sir. I was the last onboard—so if anyone should have been left—”

“I didn’t ask for a passenger list, Crewman.” His voice softened to a growl and he turned to Dr. Halsey. “What are we going to do with this one?”

“Do?” She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and examined John. “I think that’s obvious, Chief. Make him a Squad Leader.”