Earth Afire (The First Formic War 2)

Her husband's voice was like a whip. "Come, Daiyu!"

The woman hesitated. She looked into the faces of the people in the room as if they might have an answer for her, a way out, a way to stay and go at the same time.

"You dishonor me, wife. Come! For the sake of our children."

She looked at her husband. His stare was like a knife. She cowed, pulled the baby tight to her chest, bowed her head, and shuffled toward the door. As she passed Mazer she lifted her eyes and met his. She stopped. Mazer could see she was on the verge of tears. She looked down at her infant, then back up at Mazer, as if considering leaving the child with him, as if she knew she would not live out in the open and wanted at least one member of their family to survive.

Mazer couldn't bear it. It was a breach of a protocol, perhaps even a cultural offense, but he said it anyway. "You don't have to go. You can stay here with your children."

The young father exploded with fury. "How dare you! How dare you speak to my wife, to separate us." He spat at Mazer, grabbed his wife's wrist, and pulled her toward the door. "You see?" he said to the others. "You see what foreigners will get us? They cannot be trusted." He spat again at Mazer.

The two toddlers stood framed in the doorway, confused and frightened. They had started to cry.

"Quiet!" said the father. He grabbed one by the hand, a boy, and pulled him out into the sunlight. The wife followed reluctantly, pulling the second toddler behind her. The father led them toward a trail that curved down the terraced fields. He moved quickly, not looking back, dragging the toddler along, who stumbled and hurried to keep up. Just before they were out of sight, the wife looked back. Mazer thought she would cry out then, ask to be rescued. If she did, he would go to her. He would scoop up her children and bring them inside. All she had to do was say the word.

Then the trail descended, and the woman and her children disappeared from view and were gone.

The villagers in the house all looked at Mazer, waiting for him to respond.

"You don't have to stay," said Mazer. "Any of you. You're free to go at any moment. But staying together and helping each other will improve all of our chances. My team and I will keep our word. We'll be back with others as soon as we can."

"Wait."

Mazer turned. It was the old woman with the bag. She had it open and was digging through it. She pulled out a shirt. "Here. You are not covered as well as you should be. An undershirt and shorts will not protect you from the mist." She gave the shirt to Mazer then turned to Patu. "And for you, too. A woman needs better covering." She snapped at her husband. "Huang Fu. Help me find clothes for these half-naked soldiers."

The old man, who had been sitting on his bag, catching his breath, slowly got to his feet and opened the bag, searching.

"Here you are," said the old woman, giving Patu a simple cotton shirt with a floral print. It was worn and heavily faded from the sun, all of its brilliance and color nothing but a memory. "I have picked more seasons of rice in that shirt than there are years in your life," said the old woman.

Patu nodded, accepting it. "Thank you."

"And here," said the old woman. "Pants. As much as my husband would like to see those legs of yours, you had better cover up before his heart fails him."

Patu took them. They were loose and wide with a drawstring at the waist. "Again I thank you."

The old woman stepped to Fatani, took one look at his broad shoulders and thick neck, and shook her head. "How can I dress a water buffalo? What do you eat for breakfast? Your wife and children? Huang Fu, how do we dress this man?"

"I have nothing that will fit him," said the old man.

She turned on him, annoyed. "Of course you don't, mud brain. None of us do. Give me your blanket." She snapped her fingers, impatient.

The man hurried over, carrying a thin blanket.

"You need not give me that," said Fatani. "You'll need it to--"

"Shut up, water buffalo," the old woman said. She opened the blanket onto the floor then produced a knife from her pocket. She snapped open the blade. It had been sharpened so many times over the years that the blade looked half the size it had probably originally been. Her cuts were swift and sure. She ripped off long strips. She cut a hole in the middle for his head. She then gave him the poncho and tied one of the straps around his waist. Then she tore strips of fabric from a sheet and tied them around his arms. The old man gave her another two pair of loose pants for Mazer and Fatani, and the old woman nodded her approval. "There. Now you don't look like foreigners at all."

Mazer and the others nodded their thanks and rushed to the HERC, eager to get airborne again. As Mazer climbed up into the cockpit and took his helmet from the seat, he saw that the boy Bingwen had followed him out.

"What should we do if you don't come back?" Bingwen said in English. "If something happens to you, I mean?"

"We'll be back," said Mazer.

"You'll try to come back. I don't doubt that. But that's not the same thing. These people need direction. They need a leader."

"Ping will know what to do," said Mazer.

"No, he won't," said Bingwen. "I know him. He's from my village. He's strong and willing, but he's not very smart."