The squad had hacked away the undergrowth in a rough square ten meters on a side. They'd woven some of the cuttings among the overhanging tree branches to create a crude bivouac. Small chemical lanterns cast a pale greenish glow from spots here and there among the leaves of the trees; from a distance they might read to beginners as fireflies or as dapples of starlight painting the jungle. An experienced hunting team wouldn't be fooled, but the light was dim enough not to night-blind the boy soldiers while still being bright enough to let the sentries navigate easily.
I would have opted for safety and slower movement, but this choice at least wasn't stupid.
Pairs of guards watched each of the four sides of the encampment, the boys in each duo staying apart and on the move. Each duo covered its half of their zone for a bit, and then they swapped sides. If there were snipers and spotters in higher positions, I couldn't see them.
The boys not on patrol should have been sleeping, but all the bodies on the ground appeared to be in motion, waves rippling in a human ocean.
The small boy who'd hit first in the initial holo entered the central area and wove his way among the prone soldiers, bending and speaking softly to each one and handing him something. When he drew closer to the recorder, I could finally make out his words.
"Relax, brother," he said to a boy who couldn't stop rolling over and righting himself again, his hands always in flight. "You don't need the sleep, so don't worry that it won't come. Chew some more root, and you'll be fine." He handed something to the boy on the ground, straightened, and thumped his fist on his chest. "I haven't slept in over a week, and I'm fine. Like the Sergeant says, we must stay alert and strong."
The boy on the ground took a bite of the root and chewed it. His face, a mask with barely enough skin to cover his skull, distorted with anger and effort. He chewed as if each motion of his jaw might beat back an enemy.
As the standing boy lifted his leg to move to the next soldier, the one on the ground gagged, gasped, sat up, and clutched his chest. A scream ripped from him.
The standing boy leapt upon him and covered the other's mouth with his hand.
The boy bucked under him, pained cries forcing their way out.
All the other boys jumped to their feet, weapons in hand, and moved to the square's perimeter.
The large man ran into the clearing and straight to the small boy trying to quiet the larger one beneath him. The man kneeled beside the pair, pulled off the covering boy, and smoothly slid his hand over the mouth of the one on the ground.
"I tried to quiet him," the shorter boy whispered as he stood.
"Look at me," the man said. "Look at my eyes, only my eyes."
The boy did.
"You did well," the man said. "This one was weak."
The standing boy's eyes flicked downward.
"No!" the man said, his voice quiet but commanding. "Look only at my eyes so you can understand the truth."
The standing boy complied, and as he did, the man grabbed the other side of the prone boy's head, kneeled on the boy's shoulder, and wrenched his head to the left.
The boy on the ground stopped moving.
"The government must have put poison in the food we ate in the last village, and it finally struck his heart. We are lucky it did not kill more of us. Do you understand?"
The standing boy nodded, his eyes never leaving the man's.
The man stood.
"This brother died bravely. Tomorrow, we will avenge him!"
Other boys glanced at the man and nodded their heads.
"Bury him now," the man said, "and remember the face of this hero. Chew the root, and ready yourself for the battle ahead."
A few of the boys raised their rifles in support and muttered cheers.
The recording ended.