Earth Afire

by Orson Scott Card

  "You see, Imala?" said Victor. "All he has for us is threats."

  "I'm not threatening you," said Lem. "I'm warning you. I'm doing you a favor. You don't want to make a spectacle of what happened in the Kuiper Belt. You'd lose. There are other ways to do this. I'm willing to settle with the family of the man who died. We would do it privately. In a way that is untraceable back to me. But I will gladly do that. No lawyers. No documents. If the wife and children are still alive, I'll happily set up an account and see that they're taken care of."

  Victor was so angry it took everything not to shout the words out. "You think you can buy my family? You think my uncle Marco can be paid for?" He turned to Imala. "This was a mistake. He's not going to help us."

  "Help you do what?" said Lem.

  "We didn't come here to blackmail you," said Imala. "We came here because we think we've found a way to get inside the Formic ship."

  "And why would you want to do that?" asked Lem.

  "There's a war on," said Victor. "Maybe you didn't notice."

  Lem narrowed his eyes. "Your family was far more charming than you are, Victor. I find it hard to believe you're even related."

  Victor stood up. "That's it. We're out of here, Imala."

  "Sit down, Victor." Imala's voice was sharp as a whip. "Both of you are acting like children. There are people dying. Millions of people. I would like to do something about that. I thought the both of you did as well. If I'm wrong, tell me now, and I'll look elsewhere."

  Reluctantly, Victor sat down again.

  Imala looked at Lem, who sat back and put his hands up, acquiescing. "I'm listening. What's your plan?"

  She told him.

  When she finished Lem was quiet a moment. "How do you get inside the Formic ship once you reach it? I've seen it up close. There are no doors. No windows. No entry points anywhere."

  "I'll go in where the guns emerge," said Victor. "On our way to the ship, I'll stop at one of the bigger chunks of debris, I'll attach a propellant to it. A small engine of sorts. It wouldn't take much. Then when I reach the Formic ship, I'll initiate the propellant and fly the hunk of debris directly at the Formic ship as fast as it can go. The guns will emerge to blast it to smithereens, and I'll slip in through the hole."

  Imala regarded him. "That's actually a good idea. Why didn't you mention it before?"

  "Because I just thought of it," said Victor.

  "How would you get back out again?" said Lem. "Once the gun retracts, you're stuck inside."

  "I'll take braces with me, made of the strongest reinforced steel available. I'll prop open the crevice enough to squeeze back out."

  "What if there's no entry point inside the hole?" asked Lem. "The gun could sit in a recessed space without any access to the interior of the ship."

  "Then I'll use the opportunity to disable the gun," said Victor. "I'll cripple the ship as much as I can. I'll make the most of my time. I'll do reconnaissance. I'll learn as much as I can."

  "And what will you do if you do get inside the ship?"

  "Find the helm and plant an explosive," said Victor. "Whoever is leading the army will likely be there. Kill him, and you put the army in chaos."

  "How would you know where the helm is located?" asked Lem.

  "It'll be in the center of the ship," said Victor

  "How can you be sure?"

  "Because that's where I would put it. Look at the shape of the thing. Where would you want to be if you were the captain and you were moving at a fraction of the speed of light through space with collision threats all around you?"

  "As far away from the side of the ship as possible," said Lem.

  "Right," said Victor. "The center of the ship. The most protected spot."

  "Assuming you're right about its location," said Lem, "how do you plan to reach it? The ship is likely crawling with Formics."

  "I won't know until I'm inside," said Victor. "And I'll be recording everything. So even if I die, the footage would be useful. Whatever team follows me wouldn't be going in blind."

  Lem sat silently for a moment. Then he came to a decision and leaned forward. "There's a corner of the Juke production facility dedicated to a project I'm working on. Wing H16. It has its own dock and entrance and exit. My father's people don't go there. Only my engineers are allowed access. Once you've collected the space junk, bring the shuttle and junk there. I'll give you space in the facility to camouflage the shuttle and prep it for launch. I'll have all the tools you need and engineers on hand should you require them. I'd offer scraps of Juke ships for the camouflage, but I don't want my father to have any part of this. This is not a Juke mission, this is our mission. Understand? If we use anything from Juke other than my facilities and private finances, my father would strip this from us and make it his own. We'd lose control.

  "So we can't use a Juke shuttle either. It has to be one you buy from an outside source. Small so it would blend in with the debris, but outfitted properly. Something reliable. Not a junker. We're not going to fail because of faulty equipment. Buy a new one. You'll also need a cargo shuttle or a dumper to haul in space junk from orbit. You can't load everything into a tiny shuttle. So get both. A dumper and a small shuttle. We can resale the dumper if we have to. You'll need fuel as well of course, plus other supplies I'm probably not thinking of. How much do you need?"

  It took Imala a moment to find her voice. "Um, I hadn't factored in the price of a dumper--"

  "You'll need one," said Lem.

  "All right." Imala thought for a moment then gave him a number.

  "I'm tripling that," said Lem, tapping digits onto his wrist pad. "You need a cushion. These things are always more expensive than you think. If you need more, let me know." He motioned for her to extend her hand, then he tapped his wrist pad to hers.

  Imala looked at the amount. It took a moment to find her voice. "Thank you."

  "Don't thank me. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for the human race."

  He stood up to leave. "One more thing. I read your file, Imala. You uncovered a lot of dirt on my father. It cost you your job. I know you may think otherwise, but my father wasn't involved in those business practices. He has some dishonest employees, and he's dealing with them. In the meantime, I want to settle the issue. Whatever back taxes and tariffs my father may owe, I want to know about it. I will see to it that it's paid. My father won't be running this company forever. And when it's mine, I don't want any dirty laundry. There's a link in that amount I gave you. Send me everything you found, and I'll take care of it."

  Imala nodded, surprised. "I will."

  "Good. Now get the supplies and bring them to the dock."

  "Wing H16," said Imala.

  "Right," said Lem. He adjusted his coat and checked his cufflinks, as if he thought a photographer might be waiting right outside the door. Then he turned and walked out, his security retinue falling into step behind him.

  When he was gone, Victor said, "Is it just me or did the smell of flowers go away when he and his stink walked in?"

  "I don't trust him either," said Imala, looking down at her wrist pad. "But I'm not going to argue with this." She tapped him on the chest with the back of her hand and moved for the exit. "Come on, space born. You and I just declared war on the Formics."

  CHAPTER 24

  Blood and Ashes

  At dinner, Mazer sat cross-legged on the farmhouse floor across from Danwen and Bingwen. It was the third night in a row eating rice and boiled bamboo shoots. Mazer finished his portion and set down his leaf bowl. "I'm well enough to move now. I should set out in the morning."

  Bingwen looked panicked. "You can't. We have to stay together. Tell him, Grandfather."

  "You do not command your elders, Bingwen," said Danwen. "Mazer must do what he thinks is best."

  "But ... you can't leave us," said Bingwen. "I saved you. You have to protect us. You owe us."

  "Bingwen!" Danwen clapped his hands together so loudly it was like thunder inside the farmhou
se. "You dishonor me. Outside. Clean the pots."

  "Yes, Grandfather." The boy bowed low and scurried off.

  "You will forgive my grandson, Mazer. He is young and loose lipped and knows little respect."

  "He's right," said Mazer. "I do owe you."

  "You owe us nothing. We are alive because of you. There is no debt between us."

  "You should go north," said Mazer. "You can't stay here. There aren't any more supplies in the valley. You need food, fresh water. You've only stayed this long because of me, and for that I'm grateful, but I can't allow you to endanger yourselves anymore on my behalf. Let me take you north until we find another group or family you can travel with. Then I'll leave you and come south."

  "To the lander? I cannot talk you out of such folly?"

  "Destroying the landers is the only way to end this war."

  Danwen exhaled. "I am an old man, Mazer. Too old for war, with you or the Formics. If you say you must go south, I will not try to stop you. Although I will allow you to escort us to a family or group. The boy doesn't feel safe with me, and I don't blame him. I can do little to defend us. He deserves better. We will leave at first light."

  "Thank you," said Mazer. "Also, and I hope you take no offense at this, Ye Ye Danwen, but after the war, I want to help Bingwen get into a school. He has told me how hard it is to get an education here. With your blessing I would like to enroll him somewhere. In a private school in Beijing perhaps. Or in Guangzhou. I will pay for it. For as long as I can. I owe him that."

  Danwen reached out and patted Mazer's hand. "You are a good man, Mazer Rackham. You have my blessing. Bingwen is a rare boy. You will say I am biased, but I believe he is one in a thousand. Maybe one in a million. Do you think a child could be wiser than most adults, Mazer?"

  "I do now."

  Danwen laughed. "Yes. A very wise boy. You should ask him how to destroy the lander. I would not be surprised if he had the answer."

  That night Danwen insisted on taking first watch. He sat in the doorway of the farmhouse with the sword lying across his lap. Mazer lay down near the window on the far side of the room with a view of the night sky. He stared up at the millions of stars, wondering if the mothership had been destroyed. Maybe the Formics here in China were all that was left of them.

  "Mazer." A whisper.

  Mazer turned. Bingwen was beside him, sitting on the floor hugging his knees tightly to his chest.

  "I am sorry for asking you to stay. That was selfish."

  "You don't have to apologize, Bingwen. I'd stay if I could. I'm sorry I can't."

  The boy nodded but didn't leave.

  Mazer waited. Bingwen stared at the floor.

  "Is there something else you wanted to say, Bingwen?"

  The boy nodded, but he didn't look at Mazer. "You must tell Grandfather something. Before you leave. I cannot tell him. I have tried many times, but the words won't come."

  Mazer waited. The boy said nothing.

  "What must I tell him, Bingwen?"

  In the moonlight Mazer could see tears running down Bingwen's cheeks. The boy didn't make a sound. He wiped at his face with his sleeve then spoke in a whisper. "My parents. They will not be waiting for us in the north. The day I came for you, I saw them." He shook his head, ashamed. "I did not bury them. And now they are in the mountain of death, piled with all the dead things. I have dishonored them."

  Mazer sat up and took the boy in his arms. "You have not dishonored them, Bingwen. Don't think such a thing. You have honored them by helping me." He didn't know what else to say. The boy shook silently in his arms. Mazer could see Danwen's silhouette in the doorway, looking in his direction. Mazer held up a hand to indicate that all was well.

  Sometime later Bingwen fell asleep. Only then did Mazer release him, gently laying him on his mat on the floor. Mazer lay down on the wood planks beside him, eyes weary and body weak. The rice and bamboo were filling his stomach but doing little more than that. His energy was down. He needed nutrients. Judging by how gaunt his body looked and felt, he guessed he had lost about seven kilos, or fifteen pounds. It was weight he couldn't afford to lose--he had had almost no body fat to begin with.

  Outside, the night was still and quiet. It had taken Mazer a week to get used to the silence. No birds fluttered; no mice or small creatures rustled in the grass; no insects chirped in the darkness. The Formics had burned the land and everything with it, and left nothing behind but the wind.

  Mazer woke suddenly. He had slipped into sleep, but now a sound had awoken him. A soft noise that didn't belong. He sat up and saw it, standing at the door, just outside, its wand leveled at Danwen's face. The old man was asleep, completely oblivious. Mazer was up and running. The wand released a single puff of mist into Danwen's face. The old man moaned quietly. The Formic looked up, sensing movement in the darkness. Then Mazer threw himself at the creature before it could raise the wand again.

  They collided and tumbled out into the yard, the creature flailing. Mazer ripped its hand from the wand. Its other hands clawed at him. A leg kicked him. It was strong, Mazer realized. Stronger than he had expected, like an ape. It was scrabbling for him, reaching for him, twisting, fighting, trying to bite at him with its maw. They rolled in the dirt. It struck Mazer on the back, a colossal blow that sent pain ripping though his upper body. The creature was desperate, kicking, bucking. Mazer felt his grip weakening; his strength was not what it was. He twisted and maneuvered himself behind the Formic then wrapped his legs around its torso, pinning its arms to its side. The creature thrashed, desperate, angry. Mazer thought the backpack of defoliant might break and cover him in the liquid.

  "Grandfather?"

  Bingwen was at the door, looking down at the old man, whose body had slumped to the side.

  "Get back!" Mazer shouted. "Cover your mouth!"

  Bingwen retreated back into the darkness. The creature kicked and thrashed. Mazer wrapped his arms around the Formic's head and jerked it violently to one side. Something cracked. Mazer felt muscle and bone or cartilage tear. The Formic went limp.

  Mazer held it a moment longer, then released it, kicking it away. His heart was pounding. There was moisture on his arms and legs. He wasn't sure if it was his sweat or the Formic's. He gagged. But then he extended his neck and controlled the reflex.

  He heard the soft patter of feet. Footsteps. But not human ones. They were coming from behind the barn. Danwen's sword lay in the dirt near the doorway. Mazer looked for any remnant of the mist, but could see nothing in the dark. It might be there, or it might not. He wasn't sure. The footsteps were getting closer. Mazer reached for the sword, grabbed it, and rolled away, coming up on the balls of his feet, ready to move. He ran for the barn, keeping his steps silent. He put his back to the wall of the barn just as another Formic with a mist sprayer came around the corner to his left, moving right past him. The Formic saw its dead companion in the yard and stopped.

  Mazer brought the sword down from behind hard and fast. It sunk into the Formic's head with little resistance and drove down clear to its neck where it stuck. The creature dropped, nearly pulling the sword from Mazer's grip. Mazer jerked it free and stepped back against the barn, listening.

  More footsteps. This time to his right. He sidled in that direction, his bare feet moving silently in the dirt. The Formic came around the corner before Mazer had reached it. It saw him, hesitated, then fumbled with the wand.

  Mazer lunged, skewering the creature in its center mass. The blade struck the backpack and stopped. The creature looked down at the blade protruding from its chest. Mazer retracted the blade and thrust again, piercing the creature through once more. The Formic didn't make a sound. Mazer yanked the blade free again, and the Formic crumpled at his feet.

  Mazer crouched again, listening. He stayed that way for a full minute. Then two. He counted the seconds in his head. He heard nothing.

  Then he was up, sprinting for the farmhouse. Danwen's body was folded there in the doorway, half inside, half outs
ide. Mazer grabbed the old man by the wrists and dragged him out into the yard, away from where the mist had been sprayed. Danwen was limp. Mazer already knew he was dead. Bingwen appeared near the doorway.

  "Don't go through the door," said Mazer. "That's where it was sprayed. Grab my boots and climb out the side window."

  Bingwen disappeared again inside.

  Mazer knelt by Danwen. The creature had sprayed the old man in the face, and there was moisture on his forehead and cheeks. Mazer wanted to check Danwen's pulse, but he dare not touch the man's neck. He picked up his wrist instead.

  No pulse.

  He tried the other wrist as well.

  Nothing.

  He put a hand to Danwen's chest. No heartbeat. Mazer looked up. Bingwen was standing there holding Mazer's boots in his hands, staring down at his grandfather. He had thought to put on his own shoes. Mazer went to him and turned Bingwen's face to his own. "Bingwen, look at me."

  The boy blinked. He was in shock.

  "Your grandfather is gone. We can't stay here. We need to move now. Do you understand?"

  Bingwen nodded. Mazer sat down in the dirt and threw on his boots, tightening the straps as fast as he could.

  Bingwen stood over his grandfather's body. "We can't leave him here like this. They will come and take him and put him with the dead things. They will dishonor him."

  Mazer took Bingwen's hand. "There's no time to bury him, Bingwen. We have to move now."

  Bingwen jerked his hand free. "No. We can't let them take him."

  Mazer reached for Bingwen, but the boy was quick and dodged his grasp. Bingwen ran to the fire pit they used for cooking. He grabbed one of the pots and scooped around in the coals. A few of the coals at the bottom were still red hot and smoldering. Bingwen used a stick to scoop them into the pot.

  "What are you doing?" Mazer asked.

  Bingwen didn't respond. He ran to the barn and dumped the coals in a corner where an old bundle of hay lay rotting. The hay caught fire immediately, igniting like a match. The flames spread quickly, licking at the old, dry wooden wall of the barn. Bingwen dropped the pot and ran back across the yard to where Danwen lay in the dirt. He grabbed the old man by the ankles and pulled with all his strength. Danwen didn't budge, light as he was.