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YankeePerez held his position for hours. Maybe a full day. Maybe thirty-six hours. Long enough that the last hours were difficult. But his duty was clear: these civvies were under his protection, and there was no other soldier here to spell him to stand easy, and so he simply kept his post. Each time the door to their chamber opened, he tensed, assessing threat from each of the arrivals. Most left him with zero uncertainty as to the outcome of a potential fight. He would emerge victorious, that was certain, most, in less than six strikes, as the melee played out in his head against the sec guards and other Genesis personnel.
He did not move, did not react when they Genesis staff issued 'personal effects' orders. He had brought nothing that couldn't be easily pared away. He didn't care one iota if they stripped him of his few possessions. Even his dog tags. That had stung a little. It was the only constant in a life of uncertainty and war. But that trinket, that small label of his past would mean nothing in this new existence. So he let it go. The tattoo of his serial number remained, etched forever into his cheek, the four digits marking him -- what he was -- for the rest of his natural life.
There were two moments that caused him discomfort. Made his analytical mind turn loop-da-loops. Halfway thru the first 'night' in their chamber (he wasn't convinced it was actually night. But the civilians slept in lieu of anything better to do...) a child approached him. This, he was not prepared for. The child offered a small piece of cloth. A square of something that obviously meant a great deal to the boy, since it had made the trip to accompany him, even so far as it could. He did not, for a moment, know how to assess this threat. It made his mind perform calculations that he found in poor taste. But it was what he had been born to. How best to neutralize this 'threat'. He had considered merely ignoring the child, but there had been a flicker of something, maybe a memory, of a woman handing him a floppy-eared bunny. And so he had crouched to face the child, to accept the offering. But a guardian of the youth had approached, whisking the boy away in barely-concealed terror. And so, disaster averted, he rose and resumed his post, repremanding himself silently for the momentary lapse.
The second moment of confusion came when they were being moved to the singularity. While several oohed and aaahed, some in fear, others in anticipation, Perez was torn about his role, and it was then that he came closest to breaking (though in hindsight it was unlikely anyone noticed.) His training told him he absolutely needed to be first through the portal in order to secure the LZ, and guard against any unfriendlies in the new combat zone. However, his training also said he needed to watch the group's six, should any of the sec guards turn out to be unfriendly. This tore him in twain, as there was simply not enough of him to go around. 'Trust' was a term and a concept that was utterly foreign to the soldier. By the time he had convinced himself that he needed to merely go along with this, it was already too late, as several had already entered. This loss of operational security was a failure, and he would not allow it to happen again.
He did not look back. Took no note of the Genesis personnel. They were not a threat. Not anymore. He looked down in time to see the little boy from fourteen hours previously, holding his hand. "It's ok" said the small voice. Perez did not reply. It was an inefficiency to use his voice when not ordered. Instead, he stepped forward when the little boy tugged on his hand...
He did not move, did not react when they Genesis staff issued 'personal effects' orders. He had brought nothing that couldn't be easily pared away. He didn't care one iota if they stripped him of his few possessions. Even his dog tags. That had stung a little. It was the only constant in a life of uncertainty and war. But that trinket, that small label of his past would mean nothing in this new existence. So he let it go. The tattoo of his serial number remained, etched forever into his cheek, the four digits marking him -- what he was -- for the rest of his natural life.
There were two moments that caused him discomfort. Made his analytical mind turn loop-da-loops. Halfway thru the first 'night' in their chamber (he wasn't convinced it was actually night. But the civilians slept in lieu of anything better to do...) a child approached him. This, he was not prepared for. The child offered a small piece of cloth. A square of something that obviously meant a great deal to the boy, since it had made the trip to accompany him, even so far as it could. He did not, for a moment, know how to assess this threat. It made his mind perform calculations that he found in poor taste. But it was what he had been born to. How best to neutralize this 'threat'. He had considered merely ignoring the child, but there had been a flicker of something, maybe a memory, of a woman handing him a floppy-eared bunny. And so he had crouched to face the child, to accept the offering. But a guardian of the youth had approached, whisking the boy away in barely-concealed terror. And so, disaster averted, he rose and resumed his post, repremanding himself silently for the momentary lapse.
The second moment of confusion came when they were being moved to the singularity. While several oohed and aaahed, some in fear, others in anticipation, Perez was torn about his role, and it was then that he came closest to breaking (though in hindsight it was unlikely anyone noticed.) His training told him he absolutely needed to be first through the portal in order to secure the LZ, and guard against any unfriendlies in the new combat zone. However, his training also said he needed to watch the group's six, should any of the sec guards turn out to be unfriendly. This tore him in twain, as there was simply not enough of him to go around. 'Trust' was a term and a concept that was utterly foreign to the soldier. By the time he had convinced himself that he needed to merely go along with this, it was already too late, as several had already entered. This loss of operational security was a failure, and he would not allow it to happen again.
He did not look back. Took no note of the Genesis personnel. They were not a threat. Not anymore. He looked down in time to see the little boy from fourteen hours previously, holding his hand. "It's ok" said the small voice. Perez did not reply. It was an inefficiency to use his voice when not ordered. Instead, he stepped forward when the little boy tugged on his hand...
