Earth Awakens (The First Formic War)

by Orson Scott Card

“Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  Simona shrugged. “I’m not going to argue with you. I agree with you.”

  “That’s a first.”

  “Wonders never cease.”

  There was something different about her, Lem realized. “You cut your hair,” he said. “It used to be much longer.”

  “Yes well I needed a change.”

  “I like it. It’s nice.”

  Her cheeks flushed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes well, there’s something else you need to know, Lem. And I don’t know how else to say this.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I keep track of your father’s schedule, as you know, and various communications he receives. Sometimes I see things I’m not supposed to see.”

  “Like what?”

  She tapped her holopad and gave it to him.

  It was an e-mail from Despoina to Father. It was a summary of the conversation Despoina and Lem had had the other evening. She had typed up all the details he had shared with her about the upcoming mission. Most of it was insignificant information, but there were a few juicy bits in there about what Victor intended to do inside the ship.

  Lem didn’t read the whole thing. There was no need. He handed the holopad back to her. His mouth felt dry. He didn’t look at her. “Thank you for showing me that.”

  “Lem … I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She nodded. “Well … I’ll go remove the vid crew before they start shooting again.” She paused a moment as if she meant to say more, then she thought better of it and left.

  He stood there alone, staring at a giant heat inductor. How could he have been so foolish? He had wrangled Des in to get information from Father when all along Father was playing the same game. Only Father had played it better. Father had known Lem would try such a thing. And so he had set the trap and let Lem walk right in.

  Of course Lem would go for the shyest and most vulnerable in the office. She would be easy prey. And so Father had hired a … what? A prostitute? Is that what Des was? A woman of the night? An actress who hadn’t achieved the success she had hoped for and thus had settled for acting jobs of a different variety?

  It was so obvious now. The way she had played coy that first day in the office, baiting him, making him think he was winning her over with his charm.

  How much of her story was true, he wondered. Any of it? Maybe she really was from San Diego. That would be safest. She could speak about it with confidence. Street names and such. Claiming to be from somewhere she didn’t know would be risky.

  He had slept with her. And he had actually believed that it was special. Not every time, of course; there was a getting-to-know-you phase. But now, to think that all her awkwardness, all her insecurities, every moment, every glance she gave him, every laugh, every smile, it had all been a fabrication. It made him want to throw up. She was a breathing lie. The most vile and false of people. She had played him again and again and again.

  Why had he told her anything? Why had he been so asinine? Of course she was fishing for information. Of course she was taking notes. Oh sure, she had thrown him an occasional bone or two, to keep up the façade of giving him information—all of which were obviously lies.

  This explained her quick reversal of personalities, he realized. One day she’s shy, the next day she’s suddenly coming out of her shell. He had assumed that this was the product of the sudden attention he was giving her. He had made her feel special. Of course she would be more confident. But no, she was merely moving from Act One into Act Two.

  This is low, Father. Even for you.

  He checked the time. He was to meet her for dinner soon. That was obviously out of the question at this point. He could never been seen with her again. It made him sick to think that he had almost appeared in public with her. How stupid. They would almost certainly be photographed. And then the world would be frantic to know who she was. It would only take a quick search on the nets to find her true identity. He didn’t want to think what other pictures there might be of her out there.

  He could see the headlines once her true identity was revealed. He could picture them in his mind.

  Was that your final play, Father? To humiliate me in front of the world?

  Of all the life lessons Father had ever given him, this one stung the worst. It was so menacing and disgusting, so dark in his design, that Lem had to steady himself against the wall. Is this how little you think of me, Father? Is this what I am to you?

  You did it to yourself, Lem, he could hear Father say. I didn’t make you flirt with my assistant. I didn’t make you give up information. You did that all yourself.

  The saddest part of it all? He would have told Father all of those details himself if Father had only asked.

  He took a moment to compose himself, to gather his thoughts. He began making phone calls. There were people he knew of, all of them paid under the table by Ramdakan. Police, Lunar Trade Department, shuttle pilots. Lem had never dealt with them before, but he knew Ramdakan called on them often.

  Lem’s instructions were clear. They would go to her home in the night. They would arrest her. It wouldn’t be hard to plant evidence. Drugs would be easiest, Lem figured, but he left that to the officers’ discretion. They were the pros here. She was to be put on the first shuttle to Earth, her Luna visa revoked for life. They were not to hurt her—Lem wouldn’t stoop to her level—but they were to be swift. If she cried a few tears, if the experience shook her up, well perhaps she would think twice about continuing in this line of work. He transferred money from his untraceable accounts to the places they indicated. The whole business took less than ten minutes.

  Her arrest would need to be a surprise. If he didn’t show up at the restaurant, she would get suspicious. He sent her a text begging her forgiveness and asked to meet for breakfast instead. He gave her the name of a diner near her apartment. She wrote back and told him not to work too hard. He needed his rest.

  He almost ripped off his wrist pad off and threw it to the floor.

  He wanted her to know she had not beaten him in the end. He wrote her a scathing message, naming her what she was really was. Then he programmed his wrist pad to send it in two days, after she had returned to Earth.

  When he was done, he found himself on the verge of tears. He had liked her. That’s what cut deeper than anything. He had warmed to her. Over time, meal after meal, moment after moment, he had genuinely come to like her.

  There was not a word to describe what he felt for Father now. Hate was far too kind.

  CHAPTER 20

  Train

  By the time the Formic transport had flown over the Jiuyi mountain range and into Hunan province, Bingwen had seen more Formic aircraft in the sky than he cared to count. Some flew in groups of twos or threes, flying so close together that their wings were almost touching. Others flew in clusters of a dozen or more, all packed tight and moving as one—like a single-minded hive of bees.

  There were no windows on the transport, but someone had installed a large terminal screen in the main cabin. There were six active screens on it, all linked to the sensors and cameras outside.

  “There,” said Niro, pointing at a cluster of clouds on screen. “Four more of them, moving in and out of the clouds. Do you see them?” He was beside Bingwen in the jump seat, his safety harness loose around his tiny frame.

  Lieutenant Li was sitting opposite them, head back, eyes closed. “Stop fidgeting and be quiet. The Formics think we’re one of them. They’re not going to bother us.”

  “How can you be sure?” asked Niro.

  Li opened his eyes and regarded the boy. “Because if we leave them alone, they’ll leave us alone. They ignore nonaggressive aircraft. It’s a fact we learned far too late. And also, the military wouldn’t put me in this ship if there was any real risk.”

  “Why not?” asked Pipo.r />
  “Because I’m an important person. I’m to be a teacher at a special school. The military wants me safe. They’re taking every precaution to get me to my destination.”

  “Maybe Bingwen is the important person,” said Pipo. “Maybe the military wants him safe. Maybe you’re one of the precautions they’ve put in place to protect him.”

  It was not a smart thing to say, Bingwen knew. He tried to get her attention. Don’t be a hothead, Pipo. Stay quiet.

  Li regarded Pipo as if she were something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Pipo.”

  “And where are your parents, Pipo?”

  Pipo’s confidence fell. “I … I don’t know.”

  “That’s too bad. Because if you did know, I would be sure to send them a note telling them what a disrespectful child they have. How dare you speak to your elders that way? Have you no honor?”

  Pipo looked at the floor.

  “I suspect your parents are dead if they haven’t claimed you by now, but that is probably a mercy. At least they will never see what you have become.”

  Pipo raised her face, her expression one of shock. Then her whole body collapsed against her harness, and she sobbed into her hands.

  “Yes, yes,” said Li. “Cry your tears. Perhaps you will speak with greater caution in the future.” He leaned back again and closed his eyes.

  Bingwen reached far across the space between them and put a hand on Pipo’s back. She grabbed it like a lifeline thrown to her. Bingwen wanted to say something, but words would only incite Li and make it worse.

  An hour later the pilot announced their approach into Chenzhou. Bingwen watched the terminal screens as they flew over the city and headed toward the railway station. There were tens of thousands of people crowded at the rail station’s entrance, a mob so large that it spilled into the streets and stretched for several blocks south.

  “Why are there so many people?” asked Niro.

  “They all want to get north,” said Lieutenant Li. “When we land, stay close to me and move fast.”

  The transport came down on a landing pad inside a fenced-off area adjacent to the station. Crowds of people lined the fence, and they screamed and pushed against each other to get away from the transport.

  “They think we’re Formics,” said Bingwen.

  Li slid open the door and stepped out. “It’s all right,” he shouted. “We are human. Stay calm.”

  The relief on the people’s faces made Bingwen want to cry. Mothers with infants, children, the elderly. Some in fine clothing, others in rags. Many carried bags. They had thought they were about to die.

  Li motioned Bingwen and the others to come. “Hurry now.” He led them up the sidewalk toward the station. Bingwen held tight to Pipo’s and Niro’s hands.

  People at the fence cried out as they passed.

  “Let us in.”

  “Open the fence.”

  “My daughter is sick,” shouted a man, holding up a toddler.

  “We’ll pay you.”

  Children extended their arms, palms up, begging.

  Bingwen felt helpless.

  A pair of soldiers stood guard at a side entrance to the station. They saluted as Li approached. One of them opened the door. Inside was an employee locker room. When the door was closed behind them, Li removed his biosuit and gave them each a heavy plastic bag.

  “Stuff your biosuit in the bag. Keep that bag with you at all times. Do not set it down for any reason. Otherwise, it will be stolen. Wear only your brown jumpsuits on the train until you hear the alarm. Then get into your suit as quickly as possible.”

  “What does the alarm sound like?” Pipo asked.

  “An alarm,” said Li. “Now move.”

  Bingwen quickly shed his suit and stuffed it in his bag. When they were all done, Niro hugged his bag tight against his chest, his eyes wide with fear.

  Pipo put an arm around him. “Everything will be fine, Niro. Bingwen will take care of us. We’re getting on a fast magnet train. You’ve always wanted to ride one, right?”

  Niro nodded.

  “Well now’s your chance,” said Pipo.

  “Stay right behind me,” said Li.

  He led them through a set of double doors and into one of the main terminals. To Bingwen’s right a dozen high-speed passenger trains were stationed at concrete platforms, all of their doors open, loading passengers. Beyond the trains and the vaulted ceiling of the terminal were the magnet tracks and the distant safety of the north.

  To Bingwen’s left was chaos. Thousands of people were crammed together at the main entrance. A hundred armed soldiers were trying to keep order. Some held dogs on short leashes. Others shouted commands: Stay in line! No pushing! One at a time!

  Barriers had been set up that funneled people to a long row of tables, where soldiers were sitting with holopads. One by one the civilians came forward and put their face into the holofield. A window of data would appear with the person’s ID, address, photo, medical history. The soldiers flicked through the data quickly. If the civilian passed inspection, the soldier waved them through and ordered them to proceed to one of the platforms where the trains were waiting. There were more lines at the trains, and soldiers rechecked people and gave them a door assignment.

  A man at one of the tables was told he couldn’t pass. The soldier pointed to the exit and told the man to leave. The man became hostile, yelling, waving his arms. Two soldiers appeared and took him roughly away toward an exit. The man kicked and struggled and shouted curses. A third soldier stepped in and struck the man in the head with the butt of his rifle. Bingwen heard the crack over the din. The man went silent and limp. The soldiers dragged him through a set of doors that led outside and dumped him on the concrete.

  “This way,” said Li. “Stay close.”

  Bingwen didn’t have to be told twice. He clung to Niro’s and Pipo’s hands and stayed right at Lieutenant Li’s heels. They weaved their way through the crowd near the trains. Lieutenant Li shouted for the people to make a path. The command in his voice demanded obedience. The people hustled to the side.

  When they reached the fifth train, Li pushed his way to the front of the line, where soldiers were loading people.

  Li saluted a captain and gestured to Pipo and Niro. “These two, sir. Orders from Dragon’s Den.” He extended his wrist pad. The captain extended his own wrist pad, bumped Li’s, and read the information that was transferred. Then the captain snapped his fingers at a female soldier to his right. “Two orphans. Car twelve.”

  The female soldier came forward and took Pipo and Niro by the hand. “This way please.”

  And then she was leading Pipo and Niro away, taking them up the platform where the crowds weren’t allowed to go, up to a car near the front of the train. Pipo and Niro both looked back at Bingwen, confused, afraid, helpless.

  What was happening? Bingwen wondered. Weren’t he and Li getting on this train as well?

  No. A heartbeat later Li pulled Bingwen away, leading him toward the far side of the terminal.

  They were abandoning Pipo and Niro, he realized. They were going their separate ways without any good-byes or explanation. Bingwen wanted to resist, argue, question, object. He looked back at the train. The crowd waiting to board had already filled in the gap. Pipo and Niro were gone from sight.

  For an instant, Bingwen considered yanking his hand free and running back to the train. But what good would that do? The soldiers would only grab him, and Li would be furious.

  Ahead was another set of doors with a pair of soldiers standing guard. The guards let them through. Now they were in a second terminal, identical to the one they had just left—only this one was empty. No crowds. No trains. No soldiers. Li didn’t slow his pace.

  He glanced down at Bingwen and smiled. “You’re angry with me. Your little face is a mask, but I know you’re angry.”

  Bingwen said nothing.

  “I didn’t give you a chance to
say good-bye. You think I abandoned them.”

  Bingwen kept his head bowed, submissive. “You did what you thought was best, Lieutenant Li, sir.”

  “And you disagree?”

  “You are my commanding officer. It is not my place to disagree.”

  Li laughed. “You learn quickly, boy. But come now, I give you permission to speak freely. Out with it. No punishment will come to you regardless of what you say.”

  Bingwen knew that was a lie. Li may not him give him demerits, but he would resent Bingwen if Bingwen spoke his mind. No, silence was better.

  After a moment, Li released Bingwen’s hand. “I’ve made you too cautious, I see. Very well. I order you to speak, boy. A soldier who doesn’t think for himself is of no use to his army.”

  Bingwen chose his words carefully. “You did not want to make a scene. A long farewell could lead to tears, objections. A swift separation was best. People were waiting to board. Emotions were high. To warn us ahead of time would have complicated their departure.”

  Li nodded, content. “A good officer must what do what is prudent, boy. Never what is convenient. I did not give you warning because in war, warnings rarely come. Will the Formics warn us of an attack? Will they send us a holo before they swoop in and gas us? Never.”

  We’re not Formics, Bingwen wanted to say. We’re humans. We can still be decent. We can still be kind. But aloud he said nothing.

  “Let this be a lesson to you, boy. To coddle the weak is to weaken them further. Will you hold your soldiers’ hands in battle? Will you kiss their booboos and tell them there are no such thing as monsters? Because there are monsters now, Bingwen. Real monsters. Monsters who will come in the night and cut your stomach wide open and play with your insides. You do your soldiers a great disservice by treating them like delicate glass bowls. Those children are young, yes, but a lesson in pain will strengthen their resolve. Fear is the medicine they need. That is how you keep soldiers sharp and alive. To be kind, to be gentle, is to lie. That lowers their guard. To be their friend is the most destructive thing a commander can do.”

  Bingwen almost stopped walking then. If this was the military, if this was how they expected him to treat people, he wanted no part of it.