"Why not? Because I'm a child?"
"Well, yes. It's dangerous."
"It's dangerous everywhere. It was dangerous at the farmhouse. It was dangerous in my village. It's dangerous in the north. Nowhere is safe. We might as well push on. We're here. It can't be much farther."
Mazer shook his head. "We've been over this, Bingwen."
"Yes, we have. You're not my father. I'm not your son. That means you can't command me where to go."
"If you come with me, you put me in more danger. I'd be watching out for you and not giving the threats around me the full attention they deserve. Plus you'd slow me down."
"I'm not as helpless as you think," said Bingwen. "I can help. I'm slower, yes, but two sets of eyes are better than one. I can watch our rear. I can carry supplies. I'm not useless. I'm an asset not a liability."
"I don't doubt your abilities, Bingwen, but we're not going on a day hike here. This is war. I'm a trained soldier. You're not."
"I'm just as capable of killing Formics as you are."
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really." He gestured to Mazer's sidearm. "How much strength does it take it pull that trigger? I think I can manage."
"Firing a weapon is more involved than that."
"So teach me how."
"No. Children don't fight wars."
"Really? Says who? Is there some child rulebook I don't know about, because I'm pretty sure I've been fighting wars my whole life."
"These are killers, Bingwen. Not village bullies."
"What's the difference?"
"A world of difference. Village bullies don't melt your face off." He regretted saying it as soon as the words had come out. Bingwen had witnessed such things.
Mazer sighed and leaned back against one of the few remaining trees, his voice gentle. "You can't come because I don't want anything to happen to you, Bingwen. And because we don't know what's in that valley, and because in all likelihood I won't be able to do much damage anyway."
"You can do recon. You can learn things, observe things, find weaknesses, see something the airplanes haven't. Then you can take that information back to people who matter. Right now you don't want to
go back because you feel like you've failed. Information is a victory, Mazer. And I can help you get it."
Mazer said nothing.
"I know this enemy as well as you do. Maybe even better than you do. And I certainly know the land better than you do."
"There isn't much land left."
"No. Nor people either." He stared at the ground a moment, picking at a rock half buried in the earth. "My parents are in that valley, Mazer. Heaped up with everything else. Maybe Grandfather too. And Hopper and Meilin. And Zihao. And everyone I've ever known. My life is in that valley. You're fighting to save your world. I'm fighting because they've already taken my world from me. Yes, I'm young. Yes, I'm a child. No, I'm not a trained soldier. But if I'm old enough to fight to stay alive, I'm old enough to fight the war."
Mazer said nothing. It amazed him that Bingwen could be so young and so frail in some ways and so old and so unbreakable in others. Children are more capable than we give them credit for, he thought. Yet even so, he knew he shouldn't take Bingwen with him. Common sense and his training told him it was a tactical mistake. Yet what could he do? Bingwen was right. They'd find danger in the north as well.
Mazer reached into the pack and pulled out a small bedroll. He pushed the button on the side, and the pad inflated. "You've been running for most of the day," said Mazer. "Get some sleep. I'll take first watch." He handed him the gas mask. "Put this on first."
"That's for an adult."
"I'll adjust the straps as far as they'll go. It should form a seal."
"How am I supposed to sleep with that on? It will swallow my head."