Earth Awakens (The First Formic War)

by Orson Scott Card

  “When would I go? Once the war’s over?”

  “A transport leaves for the north in the morning. You would be on it.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “It’s safer in the north, Bing. I know it feels safer here underground, but we’re still in the middle of it. I’d sleep better at night knowing you were far away from here. Even if you don’t want to go to the school, say that you will. Lie. Let them carry you out of here. Then run like a rabbit when you get there.”

  A school. The idea was so unexpected, so out of nowhere, that at first Bingwen didn’t know how to respond. A school. Tomorrow. It was happening too fast. And yet isn’t this what he had always wanted? Wasn’t this the reason why he used to get up hours before dawn every day and sneak into the library, just so he could study more than everyone else, just so he could have more time with the computer, just so he could improve his chances of getting out of the village someday?

  And wasn’t this what Mother had wanted? That he escape? That he make something of himself? Bingwen knew that Father had wanted that for him as well, even though Father had never said so aloud. But Father didn’t have to say it; it was there in his eyes every time something went wrong with the crop or the equipment—a look that said, Be better than this, Bing. Do more than this. Don’t stay in this mud hole. Don’t subject your children to this life, as I have done. It was a look that said more than a hundred thousand words ever could. It had motivated Bingwen to study as much as he had. He didn’t want Father to have to show that face again. Instead, Bingwen wanted Father to wear another expression. A look of pride. A look that said, That’s my son. I made that kid. I did something right, after all.

  “I’ll go,” said Bingwen. “On the transport and to the school. No lying required.”

  “You sure?”

  “On one condition.”

  Mazer smiled. “You’re making conditions now?”

  “There’s a girl my age and her younger brother back in my camp. Pipo and Niro. They get to come as well. Not to the school. I can’t control that, but on the transport. They get carried out of here and taken somewhere safe up north. An orphanage where they’ll be cared for, maybe. Or to a family who will take them in. Someone kind.”

  “I’ll talk to Shenzu.”

  Bingwen nodded. “And one more condition.”

  Mazer sat back and folded his arms. “You’re in a bargaining mood, aren’t you?”

  “I’m giving my life to the military. That has to be worth something. And I might as well get what I can now. Once I’m a full-fledged soldier, I’m in their control. I won’t have much negotiating power.”

  “More true than you know. What else do you want?”

  “I want you to come with me.”

  There was a long silence. “You know I can’t do that, Bingwen.”

  “You could be a teacher at this school. A trainer. Who knows more about being a soldier than you do?”

  “I have a job to do, Bing. I have to end this.”

  “I know,” said Bingwen. “I know you do. But I had to at least ask.” He poked at his pudding with his spoon, then he looked back up at Mazer. “At least tell me you wish you could come.”

  Mazer smiled. “I would be a pretty good teacher, wouldn’t I?”

  “Oh you’d be terrible. You’re too serious. You’re always scowling. Like a crotchety old man. You’d scare all the students. We’d call you Professor Mazer Geezer. But I think I could tolerate having you around.”

  “I’m stronger than you, remember?” said Mazer. “I can dump that pudding on your head.”

  Bingwen put a giant spoonful in his mouth and smiled, “Considering how good this is, I don’t think I’d mind.”

  * * *

  That night they put Bingwen in an empty dorm room in the restricted area that had two sets of bunk beds and a bathroom with a shower. A small brown jumpsuit was waiting for him when he arrived, folded neatly on one of the bottom bunks. It sported a patch of the Chinese flag over the left breast. Bingwen felt the material. It was soft and stretchy and brand-new.

  He showered and then slipped into the jumpsuit. Surprisingly it fit. Why the military had clothes for someone his size he could only guess.

  He was still awake much later when a pair of Chinese officers arrived, escorting Pipo and Niro. Bingwen thanked the officers for their trouble, then welcomed Pipo and Niro inside. Each of them was carrying a jumpsuit like his, still wrapped in plastic. They had no luggage or other belongings.

  “We get to sleep on a bed?” said Niro. “Our own bed?” He climbed up onto one of the bottom bunks and lay on his back. “Come feel this Pipo. It shapes to my body.”

  Pipo looked around the room suspiciously. “Where are they taking us, Bingwen?”

  “Captain Shenzu says there’s a camp near Wuhan. And not a camp like we have here, where everyone is hungry and fighting for a place to sleep. This camp is for government employees and their families. It’s special. There are international aid organizations there with food and supplies and clothes. Shenzu says you and Niro will have a place there.”

  “Are you coming with us?” asked Niro.

  “No. I’m going somewhere else. To a school. I’m not sure where exactly. But I’ll be with you until we reach Wuhan.”

  “Where’s Wuhan?” said Pipo. “We don’t know anyone in Wuhan.”

  “It’s several hundred kilometers north of here,” said Bingwen. “Far from any fighting. In Hubei province.”

  She sounded angry. “Why would we go there? Our village is here.”

  “You can’t go back to your village,” Bingwen said gently. “It’s gone.”

  She screamed in his face. “Don’t say that! Don’t you ever say that!”

  She ran to the other bottom bunk and threw herself onto it, burying her face in the pillow and crying. Bingwen didn’t know what to say. Niro went to her and lay down beside her, draping an arm around her back. Bingwen wanted to leave and give them some privacy, but Shenzu had ordered him to stay in his quarters for the evening. And anyway where would he go?

  After a moment he went into the bathroom and lay down on the mat beside the shower.

  He must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes again the lights were out and a blanket was draped across him. A soft melody drifted in from the dorm room—Pipo singing a lullaby. Bingwen sat up and listened in the dark. Pipo couldn’t remember all of the words, so she hummed the parts she didn’t know. Her voice gradually softened until finally all was quiet. A moment later the bathroom door creaked open and Pipo poked her head in.

  “You’re awake,” she said.

  “Thanks for the blanket,” said Bingwen.

  “That was Niro’s doing. I just put him to sleep.” She gestured to the toilet. “I need to pee. Do you mind?”

  Bingwen got up, left the bathroom, and climbed up into one of the top bunks.

  When Pipo was finished, she came out and stood in the bathroom doorway for a moment, as if she couldn’t decide where to go. Then she climbed up onto Bingwen’s bunk and sat at the other end of the bed. Neither of them spoke for a moment until Pipo said, “Do you know what happened to your parents? I mean … are you sure that they’re gone?”

  “I’m sure,” said Bingwen.

  She nodded.

  Another long pause.

  “Did you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

  “I’m an only child,” said Bingwen.

  “I had three older brothers. Longwei, Qingshan, and Yusheng. They worked in the factory with our parents. Everyone worked there. Niro and I were in the schoolhouse. I don’t remember who saw the smoke first, but we all went out to see. The Formics were everywhere, spraying their smoke. In the fields, at the houses, the factory was full of it. Whoever it touched fell to the ground and didn’t get up. Niro ran toward the factory, screaming for Mother. I almost didn’t catch him. He fought and kicked and hit me. I had to drag him away. We hid in a drainage pipe under a bridge. I kept waiting for someone to cal
l out our names, to come looking for us, my brothers or my father. But no one ever did. After two days we left the pipe and smelled real smoke. The factory was on fire. One of the survivors had burned it to stop the death smell. But the fire only made it worse. We watched it burn. Everyone we knew was inside it. The smoke was burning our eyes. Niro threw up, and I thought maybe we would die, so we ran away. We didn’t know where we were going. We were both so thirsty. Soon we found other people walking, and we joined them.” She shrugged. “Then we came here.”

  Bingwen didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged again. “Sometimes I think maybe Mother wasn’t in the factory. I tell myself maybe she had gone home for something. Maybe she felt ill that day. And then I think Father would have gone home, too, because if Mother was sick, he would not want her to be alone. That’s Father’s way. And then I think about Longwei and Qingshan and Yusheng, and about how they were always running off and getting into trouble, and maybe they skipped work that day, too. And then I think, if I had just gone home, if I had taken Niro home instead of running away, we would have found everyone there waiting for us.”

  She shook her head and was quiet a moment. “I’m sorry that you’re sure about your parents, Bingwen. But at least you’re sure. At least you know.”

  She was too young to have to think this way, Bingwen thought. They were all too young.

  “You don’t have to go north, Pipo. No one’s going to force you. I only wanted to get you and Niro to a safer place. If you want stay in Claw, just say the word.”

  “We’ll go,” said Pipo. “I only wish all of my family was going with us.”

  She climbed down from the top bunk and crawled up into the bed next to Niro.

  Bingwen lay back on his mattress and stared up at the ceiling. He had never slept on a bed before—back home he had enjoyed a thin foam mattress on the floor and nothing more. This was like a hundred of those stacked on top of each other. Yet soft as it was, it wasn’t until much later, long after he heard Pipo breathing slow to the rhythm of sleep, that Bingwen was able to relax his mind enough to drift off as well.

  In his dreams, the factory burned and the skeletons danced and the flames rose up and licked the sun.

  * * *

  After breakfast, Bingwen led Niro and Pipo to the elevator where Mazer had said to meet them. To Bingwen’s surprise all of the MOPs had come to see him off.

  “Nice uniform,” said Deen. “I suspect we’ll see some stars on that in the near future.”

  “Years from now,” said ZZ. “When he turns ten.”

  They all laughed.

  Cocktail took a knee, tousled Bingwen’s hair, and said, “When Captain O’Toole finally comes to his senses and realizes he’s too old to be leading us, we’ll give you a call, Bing.”

  “I’m too old already,” said Wit. “You can have the job now if you want it, Bing. Although I think you’re too smart to take it.”

  “School first,” said Bingwen. “Then I’ll come back and whip your butt into shape, Cocktail.”

  Everyone laughed and patted him on the back and wished him well. When Bingwen stepped into the elevator with Shenzu and Pipo and Niro beside him, Bingwen realized he was actually excited. It wasn’t until the doors were closing that he realized he hadn’t said a word to Mazer. He met Mazer’s eyes at the last moment, and then the doors were shut and the elevator was ascending at a high speed. He wanted to tell Shenzu to stop the thing, to go back, to give him another moment, but it was too late.

  “The transport will take you to Chenzhou,” said Captain Shenzu. “From there you’ll catch a train there to Wuhan. That’s where the three of you will part ways. All of your documentation is on this.” He handed Bingwen a wrist pad. It wasn’t small enough for a child, but it was smaller than the typical adult size. Bingwen snapped it on his wrist and tightened the strap as far it would go.

  “You won’t be traveling alone,” said Shenzu. “An officer is headed that way. He’ll escort you.”

  The elevator stopped, and they stepped out into a small room with tight-fitting biosuits hanging on hooks along the walls. A closed airlock door was in front of them. Shenzu grabbed three child-sized biosuits and passed them out. “Slip these on over your jumpsuits. You’ll only need to wear these until you get to Chenzhou.”

  Bingwen stepped into his suit and sealed up the front. “Why do you have our size, by the way? I thought this was a military facility.”

  “It was designed to protect senior Party members and their families,” said Shenzu, “including their young children.” Shenzu sealed his own suit tight then checked each of theirs. Then he crossed the room and opened the airlock. Bright sunlight poured in, and Bingwen raised an arm to shield his eyes. A small landing pad was before them, cut into the side of the mountain, several hundred feet up. A Formic transport was parked there. When the children saw it they recoiled.

  “It’s all right,” said Shenzu. “This one is ours. We stole it and figured out how to fly it. It will take you to Chenzhou.”

  Three members of the crew were outside in their biosuits conducting preflight checks.

  “Can I sit up front with the pilot?” asked Niro.

  Pipo tugged on his hand and shushed him. “Don’t ask questions. We sit where we’re told.”

  Shenzu opened the door and helped them inside. Human seats with safety harnesses had been bolted to the floor. Someone in a biosuit was already buckled into the jump seat opposite Bingwen. It wasn’t until Bingwen had snapped his own harness and the door was closed that he got a good look at the man in front of him. It took Bingwen a second to place the face. With a sickening feeling in his stomach he realized it was Lieutenant Li, the officer who had come in the truck to take the MOPs to Dragon’s Den, the lieutenant who had wanted to leave Bingwen behind out of spite, the idiot who had insisted they leave their weapons in the cab of the truck.

  A mudbrain.

  Great, thought Bingwen. This should be a pleasant flight.

  He smiled and extended a gloved hand. “Hi. I’m Bingwen. I don’t think we officially met before. Thank you for giving us a lift that day.”

  The lieutenant looked at the hand as if it were gangrenous. “Fifty demerits,” he said, tapping a note onto his wrist pad.

  “Excuse me?” said Bingwen.

  “For improperly addressing a senior officer. You are in the Chinese military now, boy. That means you follow protocol. You don’t thrust your hand at someone unless it’s holding a knife and you plan to use it. I am your senior officer. You will therefore always address me as ‘sir’ and ‘Lieutenant Li.’”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you not hear what I said?” snapped Li. “Are you deaf as well as ignorant? I said you will address me as ‘sir’ and ‘Lieutenant Li.’”

  “Yes sir, Lieutenant Li, sir. My apologies. I didn’t know the protocol.”

  “Fifty demerits,” said Li, making another note on his wrist pad. “You do not run your mouth whenever you choose, boy. This is not the schoolyard. You will speak when asked a direct question or when given permission.” He shook his head. “They told me you were intelligent. I see already that they were mistaken. You are not fit for the school they’re sending you to. You have the aptitude of a cow. Isn’t that right, boy?”

  “That is correct, Lieutenant Li, sir.”

  Bingwen had to practically spit the words out they sounded so unnatural and awkward to his ears. Is this what he had signed up for? Was this what awaited him in the military once he graduated? Toads like this guy?

  The flight crew had climbed into the cockpit. They continued their preflight check and then lifted off. Bingwen’s stomach roiled as they dropped from the mountain and headed north.

  “May I ask a question, Lieutenant Li, sir?” asked Bingwen.

  Li rolled his eyes. “The correct inquiry is, ‘Permission to pose a question, Lieutenant Li, sir.’”

  “Permission to pose a question, Lieutenant Li, sir.”

&
nbsp; “What?”

  “Will you be escorting us all the way to Wuhan, Lieutenant Li, sir?” asked Bingwen. “Or will we get a different escort at Chenzhou?”

  The corner of Li’s mouth curled up into a grin. “I am more than your escort, boy. I am not getting off at Chenzhou or Wuhan. I’m going with you all the way. I am your new teacher.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Despoina

  Lem walked out of his office and shouted loud enough for everyone in the warehouse to hear him. “Can I have everyone’s attention please!” The workers all stopped what they were doing. Welding visors were raised, saws were cut off and silenced. Twelve cocoons occupied the floor space. Their main body and propulsion system had been built in the Juke production facility, but once they were finished there, Lem had brought them here to be camouflaged. Benyawe had suggested it.

  “Let the team here contribute,” she had said. “Let Victor and Imala show them how it’s done. It will boost morale. We all go home and watch the vids of what’s happening in China, and it eats us up. We feel helpless. The shatter boxes are well into production. The ships in the shield have been outfitted. We’re not doing much right now. Put us to work, and you’ll win some much needed popularity points.”

  She had been right. The mood in the warehouse in the past few days had improved dramatically. People were smiling, joking. Instead of giving Lem the cold shoulder, they were greeting him and including him in conversations. Two people had even thanked him.

  “I just heard from Captain Wit O’Toole of the Mobile Operations Team,” said Lem. “We have our strike team. We are a go, people.”

  They cheered. They embraced. They applauded.

  No, they weren’t just applauding. They were applauding him. He smiled, raised a hand, pumped a fist. They cheered louder. It was glorious.

  He couldn’t bask in it, though. He raised a hand for silence. They quieted. “This is good news, yes. But we’ve still got work to do. Let’s keep at it. The faster we finish these cocoons, the faster we can kick the Formics’ asses.”