Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

watch the skies. Warn us if anything comes our direction.”
    Mazer cautiously moved toward the downed aircraft, his weapon up, safety off, finger by the trigger, ready.
    “You sure about this, Mazer?” said Reinhardt. “We don’t know what that thing is or what it’s capable of.”
    “Nor does anyone else,” said Mazer, “which is exactly why we have to find out.”
    Cautiously he stepped forward. Patu appeared at his side, her assault rifle up to one shoulder, ready to fire. Fatani came around the HERC and joined then, his sidearm in hand, aiming forward.
    All of them wore their helmets, recording the scene.
    “Spread out,” said Mazer.
    They parted, Mazer going to the left, Fatani going wide to the right, Patu continuing forward.
    “Are we broadcasting, Patu?” asked Mazer.
    “All three feeds are live.”
    “Good.”
    They drew closer to the aircraft. It was clear that the same engineers who had built the lander had built this. The metal hull was dark maroon, almost a rusty color, unpolished and spotted with patches of corrosion. The lines and corners were rough as well, as if no consideration had been given to aerodynamics or style. It was like a boxcar, ugly and bulky and strictly utilitarian.
    The aircraft lay on its side so that the top of it faced Mazer. It was taller than he was. He approached it and kicked the metal with his boot. It gave a light, hollow clang . He moved around it to the opposite side. Fatani was there, standing on a slight rise in the earth, affording him a better view of the aircraft’s side, now its top. Mazer climbed up beside him and saw where the bullets from the Chinese helicopter had hit it. Nothing had penetrated the hull, but the bullets had left small, near-imperceptible depressions in the metal. It struck Mazer as strange.
    Fatani must have been thinking the same. “This doesn’t make sense,” he said. “The bullets didn’t break through. There’s no leaking fluid. No visible damage at all from the gunfire. Why did it go down?”
    “Maybe the sheer force of the impact knocked it out of whack. Like a punch to the side of the head. The pilot wasn’t expecting it. Or maybe the aircraft is difficult to realign once shaken. Any number of reasons.”
    The craft moved: A large piece of metal on the top, like a bay door, rose up twenty centimeters.
    Mazer stumbled backward, startled, nearly tripping over himself. Patu and Fatani stumbled back as well, guns up and tight in their hands.
    “What’s it doing?” said Fatani.
    The door was a wide, flat section of hull nearly as tall as the aircraft. Another grinding noise sounded, and the door—now the roof—slid backward, revealing a deep empty space inside.
    “I don’t like this,” said Patu.
    The door slid all the way to the back and stopped. The interior was wide like a cargo bay. Mazer couldn’t see far enough inside to see the bottom. He stepped toward it.
    “Easy,” said Fatani. “That door’s not opening on its own.”
    Mazer drew closer. One meter, then two. His gun up and aimed. He was right at the side of the thing. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to see inside.
    A red hand to his right reached up out of the space and grabbed the edge.
    Fatani swore. Mazer stumbled back again. Patu stepped forward, ready to fire.
    Mazer threw up a hand. “Wait! Don’t shoot.” He backed up, getting his feet back under him, his heart racing.
    The red hand was muscled and hard, with fine wisps of short hair. It was maybe two-thirds the size of Mazer’s hand and was a claw as much as anything. Mazer watched it and heard a sound inside. A hiss. Not a mechanical sound, but a biological one. Breaths. Shallow and raspy. The sound an animal makes when it’s in pain.
    “Back up,” said Mazer.
    They retreated a few steps.
    The red hand clinging to the edge strained again, tightening, clutching, pulling. The breathing was heavier, more labored. The animal was trying to lift itself.
    A second, smaller hand appeared near the first.
    Then the creature’s leg came over the edge, and the body quickly followed. Now Mazer could see that the smaller arm and hand wasn’t an opposing limb, but a second, smaller arm on the same side beneath the first. Or perhaps the middle appendages were an extra set of legs. It was difficult to say; there didn’t appear to be much anatomical difference between the two.
    The creature lay there on the narrow edge, catching its breath, rasping, like a tightrope walker taking a break mid