Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

underside of the lander.”
    “And do what?” asked Wit.
    “There are too few of us to take on the whole structure with small arms. I say we plant explosives and cripple the lander.”
    “Not good enough,” said Wit. “We nuke it. We wipe it off the face of the Earth. If we only cripple it, they’ll realize the underside is their weak spot and they’ll extend the shield down. If that happens we’ll never penetrate it.”
    “So all we need is a tactical nuke?” said Bingwen. “Oh, I thought it might be something hard to come by.”
    “I don’t like this kid’s sarcasm,” said Calinga.
    “Bingwen has a point,” said Mazer. “There are explosives here on base that I’m aware of, but nothing on the scale of a nuke.”
    “Leave that to me,” said Wit.
    “You have a secret stash somewhere?” asked Bingwen.
    “He keeps talking like he’s one of us,” said Calinga.
    “He is,” said Mazer. “I’m beginning to think some children are made for war.”
    “The Chinese will give us the nuke,” said Wit. “We’ve been building contacts within the military since the start of our campaign. Many are high-ranking officers who have contacted us anonymously. We share tactics, make suggestions, keep the intel flowing. We’ve saved their bacon, they’ve saved ours. I’ll tell them what we plan to do and ask for supplies.”
    “And they’ll just hand you a nuke?” said Mazer.
    “Either that or they’ll see the wisdom of the idea and send their own people with a nuke to do it. Either way it gets done.”
    “We’re foreign soldiers on their soil,” said Mazer. “Seems unlikely that they’d entrust us with a tactical nuke within their own borders.”
    “We’ve earned their trust,” said Wit. “And more importantly, they’re desperate. The Chinese army has been decimated. They’re hanging by a thread now. They need a victory, and we’ve got a far higher success rate than they do. Plus you know how to pilot the drill sledges. And seeing as how these drills are just sitting here, I’m willing to bet the Chinese don’t have a line of trained pilots waiting in the wings to do something with them.”
    “How will we transport the drill sledges to a place near the lander?” asked Calinga. “The lander’s fifty klicks away.”
    “That’s what the HERC is for,” said Mazer. “It has talons. It will take three trips, but I’ll carry each of the drill sledges north to a site near the lander. Perhaps a few kilometers away from it. Then we tunnel from there and attack.”
    “You will pilot one of the drill sledges, Mazer,” said Wit. “You know the tech. Calinga and I will pilot the other two. You’ll start training us immediately. I’ll get on the nets and contact our anonymous officers in the military and divulge our intent to destroy the lander with a nuke. We’ll see if anyone bites.”
    “If we broadcast our intentions, someone will try to stop us,” said Calinga.
    “I won’t broadcast it on our public site,” said Wit. “I’ll use encryption and contact the anonymous officers individually. If they try to stop us, we’ll ask them for a better idea.”
    For the next two days, Mazer trained Wit and Calinga on piloting the drill sledges. The two MOPs mastered the mechanics of the drill sledges quite easily, and it made Mazer wonder if all MOPs were this proficient. “How many different vehicles do you guys know how to drive?” Mazer asked.
    “All of them,” said Calinga.
    On the morning of the third day, a private skimmer carrying a single passenger landed deftly in the valley. A Chinese woman with a briefcase and casual attire climbed out and went directly to Wit. “Captain Wit O’Toole?” Her English was flawless.
    “Yes,” said Wit.
    She handed him the briefcase. “I trust you’ll know what to do with this.”
    Wit set the briefcase on the ground and opened it enough to see the nuke inside encased in foam. So small yet so destructive. The woman was already moving back toward the skimmer. She was up and away before anyone said a word.
    “Your anonymous contacts clearly want to remain anonymous,” said Calinga.
    “She showed her face,” said Wit. “That was brave.”
    “Maybe she’s not the contact,” said Calinga. “Maybe she’s the wife or the mistress or someone else entirely.”
    “She’s a soldier,” said Wit. “She had trimmed fingernails and no pierced ears. Plus she moved like a soldier, taking in everything.” Wit picked up the briefcase.