He shook Grandfather again. “Get up!”
“Wha … what is it?” Grandfather said, coming to himself.
“It’s coming!”
Bingwen pointed. Grandfather looked, his eyes widening.
Bingwen wanted to scream to Hopper and Meilin to run, but where would they run to? If the ship hit the Earth like an asteroid with enough force, they were all dead. Everything would be decimated. The shockwave would kill them instantly.
Hopper had stopped cold, standing there stupidly, staring up into the sky. Meilin was beside him, too afraid to move.
Grandfather tried to get up, but cried out and fell back again.
Bingwen looked behind them. The embankment. They were lying on the top of the earthen bridge between two paddies. He had to get Grandfather to the far embankment, away from the ship. He hooked his fingers under Grandfather’s armpits and pulled. Grandfather cried out, but Bingwen didn’t care. He pulled, straining, gritting his teeth. Grandfather barely moved, edging inch by inch toward the embankment. They weren’t moving fast enough, Bingwen realized. He needed help.
“Hopper!” Bingwen shouted.
Hopper didn’t respond. Didn’t move.
Bingwen strained, pulling, digging his feet in the ground for purchase. He wasn’t going to make it. The ship was going to crush them.
He glanced up at it. The fire in the front had vanished; it was free of the outer atmosphere; it was right on top of them, bearing down, growing larger by the second, as big as a village, as ten villages, twenty.
Meilin was screaming.
Bingwen pulled. Grandfather howled at the pain. Hopper was a statue.
Then the sound of it reached them. A sound like nothing Bingwen had ever heard. Like the roar of an engine and the scream of a monkey and the cry of a thousand different things at once, deep and resonating that shook the earth.
Five seconds to impact.
Bingwen screamed, pulled at Grandfather, finding a strength he didn’t have before, sliding him, yanking him back. Then they were both rolling down the embankment, tumbling, limbs flailing. They hit water, Bingwen went under, the deafening sound was muffled. Then Bingwen got his feet under him, pushed up, breaking through the water again. A hand grabbed him, slammed him against the embankment. Grandfather.
Bingwen looked above him. Hopper and Meilin hadn’t moved. They were stones. Frozen with fear.
“Hopper! Meilin!”
But nothing could be heard over the sound.
And then the sound exploded into a noise a hundred times louder because the thing hit the earth somewhere close by, and the world shook so hard Bingwen thought it had split apart, and a wave of air and dirt and water exploded across the valley, and Hopper was gone, and Meilin was gone, and mud and blackness and debris rained down and buried Bingwen and Grandfather alive.
* * *
Pain.
It swam at the edges of Bingwen’s awareness. Distant at first, blurred, unfocused. Then slowly the murkiness rippled away, clarified, and the pain became acute. Then suddenly it was piercing, searing.
Bingwen’s eyes snapped open and he cried out, awake, aware. His arm. Something was crushing his arm. He couldn’t see. There was darkness all around him. He was in a cave. No, not a cave, a pocket of air buried in the dirt and mud. Branches and trees were above him, blocking out much of the sun and shielding him from more dirt and debris. How was that possible? How was he under a tree? There were no trees in the fields.
Where was Grandfather? He turned his head. A tree branch was crushing his arm. He tried to pull the arm free, but pain stabbed through him like a bolt of electricity, taking his breath away. He took in air and cried out again. His left arm was broken. He had never broken a bone before, but he knew at once that’s what it was. He twisted his upper body, trying to reach his right arm across his chest to dig the dirt away from under his penned arm and free it, but the movement caused another punch of pain that made him howl yet again.
He lay there on his back, breathing hard. “Grandfather?” His voice was only a whisper. Then louder, “Grandfather!”
“Here.”
The voice was weak but nearby. Bingwen lifted his head and looked around. All around him were shadows and dirt and tree limbs.
A branch to his left moved. “Bingwen?” The voice was raspy and pained.
“Here,” said Bingwen. “I’m here.”
The branch moved again and this time a hand emerged, old and muddy, reaching out, searching. Bingwen extended his good arm and seized Grandfather’s hand. Grandfather’s grip tightened around his.
“I’m here, boy. I’m here.”
Bingwen couldn’t help it. Tears came then, busting out from deep inside him. He tried to push them back, biting his lower lip to suppress them, but they fought their way out, and in seconds he was sobbing and shaking and only making the pain in his arm worse.
“Are you hurt?” said Grandfather.
“Yes,” Bingwen managed to say. “My arm. It’s broken, I think.”
“I’m going to get you out.”
“How? You could barely move before.”
“Your grandfather isn’t as weak as he looks.”
It was a lie, and Bingwen knew it.
“I’m going to get help,” said Grandfather.
Grandfather’s hand released his, pulled back.
Bingwen scrabbled for it with his good hand. “No! Don’t leave me.”
Grandfather’s hand returned and grabbed Bingwen’s again. “I’ll be right back, Bingwen. On my father’s name I swear it.”
The hand tried to pull back again, but Bingwen clutched it tightly this time, not letting go. “Wait. Please. Don’t go. I’m … afraid.” He hated himself for saying it, felt the shame of it like a slap. But it was true. He could feel the darkness now, not just see it, like a stranger was just behind him, standing over, ready to strike. He was going to die here, he knew. If he released Grandfather’s hand they were both going to die. He would be crushed by the tree and the mud and the darkness.
Grandfather gave Bingwen’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I can make it to the village, Bingwen. I’ll come back with your father.”
“No.” Bingwen’s voice was a panic. “You can’t. You couldn’t walk.”
“Then I’ll crawl. I won’t leave you under this—”
But the rest was cut off because then the deafening roar of a machine tore through the world like a grinding thunderclap and the earth shook like a hundred earthquakes, and Bingwen clutched Grandfather’s hand and screamed.
CHAPTER 13
Survivors
The HERC was moving fast, flying at an altitude of four thousand meters toward a billowing cloud of dust far ahead of it in the distance. Mazer zoomed in as far as his HUD would allow, but he still couldn’t see the downed lander from here. It was hidden behind several crests of mountains. “Patu, talk to me. What’s going on? I need a sat feed on that lander. I need video.”
“I’m trying, I’m trying,” said Patu. “The whole network is going berserk. Everyone in the world is piggybacking on all the satellites pointed at southern China. I’m only picking up bits of intel here and there. All three landers are down. I know that much. They’re roughly three hundred klicks apart and form a line that starts in the southeast corner of Guangdong province and crosses up to the northeast corner of Guangxi province. We’re heading toward the second lander. The first one set down east of the Nangao Reservoir in Luhe County, about sixty klicks north of the coast.”
“Populated area?”
“Not at the point of impact, no. It’s mostly forested mountains. There are several villages nearby. A few towns. But nothing densely populated. We lucked out on that one.”
“What’s the lander doing?”
“Right now, near as I can tell, it’s not doing anything. It’s just sitting there.”
“What about the second lander?”
“Impact site is in a valley south of a town called Dawanzhen. Mostly rice lands. Sev
eral villages are clustered in that area. Again, not densely populated, but certainly more people than where the first lander put down. Casualties are likely.”
Mazer turned to the pilot’s seat. “Reinhardt, what’s our ETA?”
“We’ll be on top of that thing in under three minutes,” said Reinhardt. “What I want to know is: What do we plan on doing once we get there? We’re not packing a lot of heat, Mazer. This thing is a training aircraft, remember? We’re not carrying any rockets. We got a few slicers and that’s it, no heavy air support. If we get in a fight, we could be in trouble.”
“We’re not looking for a fight,” said Mazer. “Our job is recon and rescue. We help people on the ground and learn as much as we can about the lander. We’ll send live feeds back to Auckland and to the Chinese. The more they know, the better they can prepare. Patu, what about the third lander?”
“Not good. It set down right outside a city named Guilin on the west bank of the Li River. Population two-point-seven million.”
Mazer winced. A dense population compounded their problems a hundredfold. It had landed outside the city, though; that was some comfort. At least the lander hadn’t parked downtown. “Fatani, find every emergency and news feed you can coming out of that city and relay it to Auckland and to base command. Also see if you can patch in to any seismographic feeds. My guess is that thing felt like an earthquake when it hit. There may be buildings down, utilities disabled.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” said Fatani. “But don’t hold your breath. It won’t be easy to breach their system in under three minutes. And don’t forget it’s all in Chinese.”
“Do the best you can,” said Mazer. He clicked over to the radio. “Red Dragon, Red Dragon, this is Captain Rackham, do you read, over?”
Shenzu’s head appeared in the holofield. He looked furious. “Captain Rackham, turn your aircraft around immediately. Do not approach the alien landers. I repeat, change your course at once and return to base. The landers are on Chinese soil. That makes them our concern, not yours.”
“They’re on Earth,” said Mazer. “That makes them everyone’s concern.”
Shenzu said, “Captain, you are flying in a stolen aircraft. You have zero authorization to be in Chinese airspace. You are violating international law. Your commanding officer in Auckland has conveyed to us that he has ordered you to return to base. We have given you the same order. Unless you comply immediately we will have no choice but to shoot you down. We will not allow you to provoke the landers and endanger our citizens.”
“We’re trying to help your citizens,” said Mazer. “The second lander is right in front of us. There might be casualties. We can be there in under two minutes and provide immediate medical assistance. There are no airfields or bases remotely close to here. It will take medevacs a while to reach that position. We’re the best you’ve got for emergency air support.”
“That is not your concern.”
“You want us to abandon these people?”
“You are thinking about a handful of individuals, Captain Rackham. I am thinking about all of China. Flying a military aircraft toward that lander could be perceived as an act of aggression and exacerbate the situation. We are trying to maintain peace, and your blatant insubordination is threatening our efforts. You have ten seconds to comply and change your course, or we will drop you from the sky.”
Mazer waved his hand through the holofield to make Shenzu disappear. Then he blinked out a quick command to start a ten-second countdown on his HUD. “Reinhardt, get us close to the ground. Stay on course, but keep us low and use as much cover as you can find.”
Reinhardt put the HERC into a manageable dive. “We won’t be invisible, mate. It’s broad daylight. If they’re sat-tracking us, they can put a precision-guided missile on us and drop us like a rock.”
“Then go faster,” said Mazer.
Reinhardt scoffed. “Get lower and go faster? These are jungle mountains, Mazer. You want me flying us into a cliff face?”
“Then fly as fast as you can as safely as you can. The closer we get to the lander, the better our chances are with the Chinese.”
“Isn’t the opposite true?” said Patu.
“Technically, yes,” said Mazer. “But the Chinese’s biggest fear is that we’ll provoke the aliens. If they fire on us when we’re close to the lander, they risk it looking like a provocation to the aliens. So the closer we get, the safer we are. Hopefully. Punch it, Reinhardt.”
“You sound unsure,” said Fatani.
“I am unsure,” said Mazer. “I could be completely wrong. But I think the Chinese are smarter than that.”
“We’ll know in three seconds,” said Patu.
The second countdown reached zero just as the HERC leveled out from its dive above the trees at the crest of a low-level mountain. The aircraft flew straight for a moment, then the mountainside dropped away, descending toward the valley below. Reinhardt dropped the nose of the HERC as well, level with the terrain. They plummeted down the mountainside like the front car of a roller coaster on its first big drop. Mazer felt himself rise slightly in his seat and tighten against his restraining harness, the valley floor rushing up toward them at a sickening pace. Reinhardt pulled up at the last instant, and they all dropped back into their seats, Mazer exhaling and unclenching his fists.
“Easy,” said Patu. “He said faster, not suicidal.”
Reinhardt hit the throttle, taking advantage of the flat valley floor to pick up speed. “They’re one and the same, Patu, my queen of the rice. One and the same.”
The next mountain was coming up fast. Mazer scanned the radar and heat sensors displayed on his HUD. He didn’t see any incomings.
“Sky looks clear,” said Mazer.
“That doesn’t mean we’re home free,” said Fatani. “They could have fired a missile from Beijing for all we know. Might take a minute to get here.”
“Which is exactly why they won’t fire at all,” said Mazer.
The HERC rose sharply up the mountainside. They flew in silence, rising and falling with the landscape, shifting slightly off course here and there in the hope of evading detection, always scanning the sky around them, watching for incoming threats. None came. A minute passed. Then two.
“Looks like you called their bluff,” said Fatani.
“Or they fired something our sensors can’t detect,” said Reinhardt, “and it’ll blow us up any second now.”
“Not funny,” said Patu.
“Hey, if the Chinese can make a mole vehicle that drills through solid rock,” said Reinhardt, “nothing would surprise me.”
“What if Shenzu’s right, Mazer?” said Fatani. “What if we’re kicking the hornet’s nest here? This species doesn’t know what we are. They might think we’re a missile fired on them. We could start a war.”
“The war is already on,” said Mazer, “despite what the Chinese would like to think. If any of you disagree speak up now. I can’t force you to come along. You heard the colonel. He gave us direct orders. If you come, you will almost certainly be court-martialed when this is over. You need to know that. Your career will be over. If you want to back out now, say the word and I’ll set you down here. You can tell them I forced you to come this far. That goes for you, too, Reinhardt. If you want to sit out, say so. I can fly this thing if I have to.”
Reinhardt snorted. “You can’t fly the HERC, Mazer. Keeping it in the air and landing it when you need to is not flying. That’s driving. Flying is what I do. It’s an art. And you, sir, are no artist.”
“We’re all in, Mazer,” said Fatani. “Nobody’s for turning back. But Shenzu has a point. We might incite a response.”
“It can’t be avoided,” said Mazer. “We’re not abandoning the people on the ground. Patu, any luck with that sat feed?”
“You don’t need one,” she said. “We’re there.”
Reinhardt crested the last mountain, and the lander came into view, a massive, metallic discoid, shrouded in a
cloud of dust. Mazer stared. It was larger than anything he had imagined. An engineering impossibility. Perhaps sixty stories high and nearly a kilometer wide. The top of it was smooth, shiny, and slightly rotund. But the side was crude, made from thousands of metal plates of various sizes arranged in a seemingly random fashion, as if the builders had no regard for symmetry or aesthetics.
Beneath the lander was a ring of displaced earth several hundred meters wide, tallest near the lander and tapering off near the edges, as if the lander had stepped on a giant mud pie and spilled its contents in every direction. No, not a mud pie, Mazer realized. A mountain. The lander had crushed a small mountain or large hill, leveling it to the ground and displacing dirt and unearthed trees in a mudslide that had buried much of the valley floor.
“Patu,” Mazer shouted, “turn on all external cameras and broadcast a live feed to every satellite you can access. Then get on the radio with Auckland and the Chinese and tell them the landers have shields.”
“How can you be sure?” said Patu.
“That must be how it crushed the mountain,” said Mazer. “It couldn’t have been the force of the impact. The lander was moving too slow when it set down. And look at the landscape. No shockwave evidence, just the wall of displaced earth. That has to be from shields.”
“What does that mean?” said Fatani.
“Means we may not be able to hurt it even if we try,” said Mazer. “Reinhardt, circle this thing. Help Patu capture it from every angle. Fatani, you and I will scan for survivors. There’s a rice field to the immediate north. There were probably workers down there when this thing hit. Look there first.”
Mazer gave his shoulder harness a shake to make sure it was tight then blinked out the command to open his door. A gust of wind and dust blew into the cockpit as Mazer’s door slid back. He leaned out as far as his straps would allow and looked down, zooming in with his HUD.
The mudslide was a blanket of brown, with broken trees and the shattered remains of houses jutting up here and there through the muck. It was total devastation. If there were survivors, there wouldn’t be many. Mazer activated his thermal scanner, but the screen showed nothing promising. If there were people trapped under the muck, Mazer couldn’t see them.
Earth Afire (The First Formic War) Page 19