Earth Afire (The First Formic War 2)

Mazer lifted his arm and pulled the blanket off himself and onto the boy. The night air felt brisk and biting against Mazer's exposed skin, and he wished the old midwife had left him with his shirt.

Mazer turned and saw Danwen standing at a window, looking out into the storm. The old man held a long thin object in one hand, over a meter in length, with the end of it resting against his shoulder. Mazer couldn't tell what it was until lightning struck, and a flash of light lit up the man's front. The sword was old and thin with an ornate hilt of a dull, unpolished metal. A family heirloom perhaps, or a costume piece for cultural events. Not a very good weapon. Certainly not much against a squadron of aliens, should they arrive.

I should be the one standing guard, Mazer thought.

Only, he didn't have the strength to stand. He barely had the strength to move his head and look about. And when his eyes began to droop again--despite the cold and damp and roar of the storm--he couldn't muster the strength to fight back the pull of sleep.

When he woke, it was daylight. The storm had moved on, and sunlight stabbed through the holes in the roof, reflecting off the puddles on the floor and casting sprinkles of light onto the walls. Bingwen and Danwen were nowhere to be seen, but someone had draped the blanket back across Mazer's chest. He forced himself to get up, rolling to one side and then pushing up with his arms. The movement sent a jolt of pain through his abdomen, but he knew, considering what he'd been through, the pain could have been much worse. He got on all fours, feeling shaky and a little unsure of himself. Whatever they had given him to keep him asleep was taking its sweet time getting out of his system. He felt something hanging from his hip, and he realized then that he had a catheter in him. He had been wearing it all this time and hadn't even noticed. He reached down, winced, and pulled it out.

He got one foot under him, then another, and stood. His legs were shaky and weak; he felt light-headed. He shuffled to the doorway and braced himself against the jamb. Danwen and Bingwen were right outside, squatting by a small cook fire, boiling more water and rice.

"You shouldn't be up," said Danwen. "The machine said you should stay off your feet for five to six days."

"Close enough," said Mazer. "Who put a catheter in me?"

Danwen looked confused. He didn't know the word.

"The bag that catches my urine," said Mazer.

Danwen reared back his head and laughed. "That was the old midwife. Of all the instructions the machine gave us, that was the one step she didn't fuss about."

"That's not true, Grandfather," said Bingwen. "She fussed plenty about that, too."

"Well, her heart wasn't in it," said Danwen. "It took little arguing to convince her."

"Tell me what's happened since the accident," said Mazer. "With the war."

Danwen put down the pot he was holding. "Better if I showed you." He walked past Mazer through the door, dipping under Mazer's arm as he went, and crossed the room to the open windows. He waved Mazer over. "Come, if you can walk now. See for yourself."

Mazer shuffled over to him, and Danwen gestured out the window. The valley below was stripped of vegetation. Where there had once been rice fields and thick tropical vegetation on the edges of the valley was now scarred earth--mud and exposed roots and puddles of dirty rainwater, as if someone had peeled back the skin of the world.

"The aliens did this?" asked Mazer.

"They call them Formics now. That's the name the army has given them."

"How do you know that?"

"I've gone down to the valley a few times now to search for supplies. I usually take from the dead. I am not proud of it, but that is how we have survived. I've found clothes for you. There is a shirt over there in that box, if you're ready to wear it." He pointed to a crate over in the corner. "The people ran from their villages with what little they could carry. I've brought up bags of food, pots for cooking, necessary things. I'm not the only one who picks from the dead either. I've seen other people as well, survivors like us, digging through the people's belongings. They tell me things. The Formics are peeling away the land, they say. All of the biomass. Plants, animals, people. All biological matter. They're scooping it up and collecting it all into a giant pile. A mountain of biomass, rotting in the sun beside the lander. I believe them. When the wind blows north from the lander, you can smell it. A rotting stench. A smell so powerful, it turns the stomach. Two days ago the machines came through this valley. Bingwen and I watched them. They stripped the land without even touching it. The machines drove forward and the scorched land peeled away."

"Shields," said Mazer. "That must be how they're stripping the land. It's the same technology they're using to protect the lander."

"I do not know technology," said Danwen. "I only know that they are evil. Destruction and death is their only business. First they spray the mist. Whatever it touches wilts and dies quickly. Then the wind carries it elsewhere. Over time the plants touched by the wind wilt as well, sometimes an hour later, sometimes as much as a day. Soon everything shrivels and dies. Then the Formics return and scoop it all away." He looked behind him, saw that Bingwen was still squatting by the fire twenty meters away, and spoke almost in a whisper. "The boy's parents are dead. I found them a few days ago in the valley behind us. They had been killed with the mist. I went back the next day with a shovel to bury them, but the land had been stripped. They were gone. Their bodies are there in the rotting mountain. I have not told Bingwen. No boy should have to know such things."

Mazer was quiet a moment then said, "Is that where you found the sword? Down in the valley?"

Danwen nodded. "Off a dead man from our village. It is not much. Hardly any edge to it. But we needed something when we lost the rifle. I will protect Bingwen with my life."

"He's lucky to have you," said Mazer.

Danwen smiled. "Yes. And you're lucky to have him."

A sound of an aircraft in the distance made them both turn in that direction.

"What about the war?" asked Mazer.

"For the first few days there were many planes and battles in the air. Our fighters were better than theirs. I saw two Formic flyers destroyed in a dogfight. I watched the whole thing from right here." He pointed west. "They crashed five kilometers or so in that direction. I felt like dancing. But these are little victories. The rumors are that wave after wave of Chinese soldiers are dying. Great battles northwest and southeast of here. The Formics mow them down. It is a one-sided war, and we are losing."

"What about the lander?"