Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

and dilapidated. Much of the railing had fallen away long ago. The river was twenty feet below. Wit never slowed down. His HUD told him the water was likely deeper to the right. Wit leaped from the bridge. He flew through the air, hit water, and went under. The buoyancy of his dampening suit lifted him to the surface, and the current swept him downstream. His HUD gave him the water temperature and tracked the location of his men. All eight were in the water with him, moving quickly, bobbing along. The current was relatively calm in spots but it raged in others. Twice they saw large groups of PCs heading up the road adjacent to the river, back toward the base, hoping perhaps to stop whomever had the flag. No one looked toward the river. Or if they did, they didn’t see anything in the dark.
    The last mile was uneventful. The river calmed, and Wit moved to the opposite shore. The suits were heavy and waterlogged, but they made good time on foot, reaching camp ten minutes later. Wit was not surprised to see all of the remaining MOPs and about sixty PCs gathered around a bonfire in their undergarments. A tall pile of discarded dampening suits stood off to the side. Most of the suits were stiff and red, but a good number of them were still operable. The PCs and MOPs were mingling and laughing and drinking and playing cards. Four of them were singing a ribald drinking song, much to the delight of those around them. No one noticed Wit and the new recruits, who watched from behind one of the tents.
    Wit’s instructions to the MOPs at camp had been clear. Don’t let the PCs get the flag, but don’t them let feel like failures either. Show humility. These men are allies not enemies.
    Five men were sitting on crates and cargo boxes nearby playing a hand of ganjifa. Calinga, the Filipino MOP, laid down a hand of the circular cards and celebrated. Those playing with him moaned. Calinga’s wrist strap flashed green, and he excused himself. He came to Wit, smiling and keeping his voice down. “Evening, Captain. Things turned out well for you, I assume. These the newbies? Welcome to MOPs, gentlemen.”
    The eight recruits nodded a greeting.
    “How’d we do?” asked Wit.
    Calinga shrugged. “After we’d shot them all, we told them it seemed silly for anyone to lie stiff as a board in the grass until it was over. So we stripped our suits first, so they wouldn’t think we were mocking them, and then we broke out the ration coolers with the vitamin drinks. I think the PCs were hoping for booze, but they seemed grateful enough.”
    “Did we lose any men?”
    “Toward the end of the last assault I shot Toejack and Kimble when no one was looking. It seemed like we should have at least a few wounded. If we were all still standing in the end, it would have felt like gloating.”
    “Well done,” said Wit. He stepped out of his dampening suit and shot it with his weapon. The suit stiffened and turned red. “Drop your suits and shoot them,” he told the others.
    The new recruits obeyed immediately.
    “Now we put them on the pile with the others,” said Wit. “Be exhausted. Don’t act, just let your exhaustion be seen.”
    Wit led the others to the pile. He had a stitch in his side, but instead of suppressing the pain like he normally would, he let it aggravate him and winced at the discomfort of it. He tossed his suit onto the pile. The soldiers around the bonfire saw him, and everyone quieted. The new recruits dropped their suits onto the pile. They looked wet and tired and beaten, when a moment ago they hadn’t even seemed winded.
    Wit spoke loudly. “Those of you in my unit know that I do not like to fail.”
    The camp was silent.
    “I had assumed that we could easily win this exercise, but tonight I’ve learned that you PCs are tougher men than I anticipated. All of us took a beating. If we work this hard over the next few weeks, we’ll learn from each other and become better soldiers and men because of it.”
    Headlights cut through the darkness, and a small convoy of vehicles pulled in. Wit fell silent, watching the cars approach. Major Ketkar stepped down from one of the vehicles, now wearing his fatigues and looking none too pleased.
    “Atten-tion!” Wit yelled.
    Everyone at the campfire snapped to attention, including Wit, who saluted the major, even though technically it wasn’t necessary.
    Major Ketkar mostly hid his surprise. He looked at the men and the coolers and the sausages and the pile of