Kinder des Schicksals 4 (Xeelee 9): Resplendent

is a start. First impressions?’
    ’Regularity,’ Luca said. ’Straight lines everywhere. Everything
planned, everything ordered. Nothing spontaneous.’
    ’And the children?’
    Luca said nothing. There was silence save for barked commands;
none of the children seemed to be saying anything.
    Dolo said, ’You must understand that children brought in from the
wild are more difficult to manage than those raised in birthing
centres from soldier stock, for whom the war is a way of life; they
know nothing else. These wild ones must be taught there is nothing
else. So they will spend six or more years of their lives in places
like this. Of course past the age of thirteen - or younger in some
cases - they are used in combat.’
    ’Thirteen?’
    ’At that age their usefulness is limited. Those who survive are
brought back for further training, and to shape the others. It helps
them become accustomed to death, you see, if they are returned from
the killing fields to a place like this, which keeps filling up with
more people, people, people, so that mortality becomes trivial, a
commonplace of statistics… Here now; this is where that pretty
little girl from the coast will be brought, when the troopers extract
her from her clinging mother.’
    It was a nondescript building, before which children had been
drawn up in rows. Male and female, no older than ten or eleven, they
were dressed in simple orange coveralls, and were all barefoot. A
woman stood before them. She had a short club in her hand. The
children’s posture was erect, their heads held still, but Luca could
see how their eyes flickered towards the club.
    One child was called forward. She was a slim girl, perhaps a
little younger than the rest. The woman spoke to her almost gently,
but Luca could hear she was describing, clinically, some small crime
to do with not completing laundry promptly. The girl was wide-eyed
and trembling, and Luca, astonished, saw urine trickle down her
leg.
    Then, without warning, the woman drew her club and slammed it
against the side of the child’s head. The child fell in the dust and
lay still. Luca would have stepped forward, but Dolo had anticipated
his reaction and grabbed his arm. Immediately the woman switched her
attention to the others. She stepped over the prone form and walked
up and down their rows, staring into their faces; she seemed to be
smelling their fear.
    Luca had to look away. He glanced up. The Galaxy’s centre glowed
beyond a milky blue sky.
    Dolo murmured, ’Oh, don’t worry. They know how to do such things
properly here. The child is not badly hurt. Of course the other
children don’t know that. The girl’s crime was trivial, her
punishment meaningless - save as an example to the others. They are
being exposed to violence; they have to get used to it, not to fear
it. They must be trained not to question the authority over them. And
- ah, yes.’
    The woman had pulled a boy out of the ranks of silent children.
Luca thought she could see tears glistening in his round eyes. Again
the woman’s club flashed; again the child fell to the ground.
    Luca asked, aghast, ’And what was his crime?’
    ’He showed feelings for the other, the girl. That too must be
programmed out. What use would such emotions be under a sky full of
Xeelee nightfighters?’ Dolo studied him. ’Luca, I know it is hard.
But it is the way of the Doctrines. One day such training may save
that boy’s life.’
    They walked on, as the children were made to pick up their fallen
comrades.
    They came to a more ragged group of children. Some of these were
older, Luca saw, perhaps twelve or thirteen. It disturbed him to
think that there might actually be combat veterans among this group
of barefoot kids. At the centre of the group, two younger children -
ten-year-olds - were fighting. The others watched silently, but their
eyes were alive.
    Dolo murmured, ’Here is a further stage. Now the children have to
learn to use violence against others. The older ones have been put in
charge of the younger. Beaten regularly themselves, now they enjoy
meting out the same treatment to others. You see, they are forcing
these two to fight, perhaps just for entertainment.’
    At last one of the fighters battered her opponent to the ground.
The fallen child was dragged away. The victor was a stocky girl;
blood trickled from her mouth and knuckles. One of the older children
walked into the crude ring, grinning, to face the stocky girl.
    Dolo nodded with a