A team of Marines swept the camp as the naked women and children made their way towards the shuttles.  The medic – the closest thing they had to a war crimes assessor – reported that the camp’s water contained a combination of various drugs.  One of them would make the POWs listless and biddable, another heightened their fears while dampening their other emotions.  At least that explained why the POWs had been able to endure their nakedness, the medic concluded, but he had no idea what the long-term effects of such treatment would be.

“The drug has some similarities to a number of penal drugs,” he said.  “They may well have taken them from our supplies, perhaps from New Russia.”

Charles shuddered.  Before discovering a suitable world for housing dangerous criminals and lacking the political backing to execute them, the human race had experimented with various forms of drugs to control their behaviour.  Some of them permanently dampened sexual ardour, others encouraged compliance and obedience.  But none of the drugs had been completely effective, he recalled, or they turned out to have thoroughly unpleasant side effects.  He found it hard to care about murderers or child molesters who’d been forced to take the drugs, but it was alarmingly easy to imagine them being used for less savoury purposes.

He turned to watch as the remaining women were shoed into the shuttle by the Marines, then looked back at the medic.  “Can they be purged of the drugs?”

“I imagine they’re in for a rough few weeks,” he said, shortly.  “Like all such drugs, they can be quite addictive if taken regularly.  But after that they should be fine.”

Charles had his doubts.  Back during his first year of training, there had been a young recruit who had been a drug addict before trying to join the military.  Somehow, he’d stayed clean long enough for routine drug screening to miss him, but eventually his body’s demands for the drug had become overpowering.  He'd fallen off the wagon and he'd fallen off hard.

“Make sure the doctors on the carrier know the situation,” he ordered.  “And you can detach yourself to assist them if necessary.”

He strode through the rest of the camp, examining it quickly.  It was actually nicer than some of the camps he’d seen on Earth, complete with hot and cold running water, surprisingly comfortable beds and regular food.  A quick check revealed that the aliens were feeding their captives proper meals, rather than nutrient mush or something edible, but tasteless.  Charles couldn't help frowning as he walked back out of the building, wondering at their odd behaviour.  One moment they attacked mercilessly, the next they treated their captives with a curious mixture of kindness and ruthlessness.