Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

of rank and imprisoned for it.”
    “Then it’s a good thing I’m not in the military.”
    “You’re making this difficult, Bingwen.”
    “No. I’m making it the opposite. I’m removing a consideration from your mind. I’m letting you fight with a clearer head. That’s in my best interest, too. The more focused you are on staying alive, the better my chances are, too.”
    Mazer considered then nodded. “All right. No giving up the gun.”
    “Good.”
    “But if I can no longer use it, you pick it up.” He showed him the weapon. “You see this light? Red means it can’t fire, the safety is on. Flip this switch here, the light goes green, it’s ready to fire.” He flipped the safety back on. “Don’t run with your finger on the trigger, even if the safety is on. That’s the fastest way to shoot yourself. Keep your index finger flat against the receiver like this until you’re ready to fire. And use the wrist brace. Here.” Mazer tapped a button on the grip, and the wrist brace extended backward, found Mazer’s wrist, and wrapped around it. “It will tighten automatically to fit the diameter of your wrist and help steady your aim.”
    “Where should I aim?”
    “Center mass. Middle of the chest. Two rounds. One right after the other. You’ll feel a recoil, but it’s slight.” Mazer stood, noticing the disquiet in Bingwen’s expression. “It won’t likely come to that though, Bingwen. You’ll probably never have to use it.”
    Bingwen nodded, but Mazer could still sense his unease. I shouldn’t have brought Bingwen south, he told himself. We should have pushed west, away from the patrolling transports in the north and away from the lander. What was I thinking to bring a child here?
    “You’re reconsidering,” said Bingwen. “I can see your gears turning.”
    “I’m reconsidering because what we’re doing is lunacy, Bingwen. This isn’t a game. This is war. It’s one thing for me to go. It’s quite another for you to come along. Soldiers don’t take eight-year-olds to war.”
    “I’m eight and a half.”
    “I’m not joking. This is wrong. My training says so. Common sense says so. The law says so.”
    “We’ve been over this. This is my decision.”
    “You’re not old enough to make that decision. You’re a minor. There’s a reason why we don’t take recruits until they’re eighteen years old.”
    “I’m not going as a soldier. I’m going as a guide. I’m taking you to the lander. If I hadn’t course-corrected us already, you would have missed it by a few kilometers.”
    “I would have found it eventually,” said Mazer, tapping the side of his nose. “Just follow the stench.”
    “It may not be as dangerous as you think,” said Bingwen. “Have you noticed that the closer we get to the lander, the fewer transports and skimmers and Formics we see? Maybe the ships and infantry are all moving away from here, pushing outward, expanding the Formics’ territory. If it’s an invasion force, they’re going to keep invading. They might not even be guarding the lander. Why would they? It’s indestructible. It has shields. Why waste men and ships defending something that doesn’t need defending? It’s probably the safest place within a hundred kilometers of here.”
    Mazer smiled. “I’ll put you through school when this is over, but not law school. You’re too dangerous.”
    Bingwen gave him a wide toothy grin.
    They pushed on, crossing wide, muddy fields, with stagnant pools of water that smelled of rot and death. Bingwen pointed out a hillside where a small village had once stood. All that remained of it was scorched earth and a single sheet of metal roofing, rattling softly in the wind like thunder.
    They reached the base of the hill an hour before sunrise. Beyond it was the lander and the biomass. Scaling the hill wouldn’t be easy, Mazer could see. The Formics had stripped it of vegetation, and the heavy rains had softened and eroded the exposed earth, leaving steep muddy slopes that threatened to give way beneath their feet and slide downward like an avalanche. Mazer showed Bingwen how to take sideways steps up the steepest parts to more evenly distribute the surface area of their boot soles, but even with that approach they fell often and slipped constantly and had to painstakingly claw their way up to the summit. By the time they reached it, the sun was up, and they were covered head to foot in muck, their bodies cold and wet and spent.
    Mazer took