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"What about the Formic gas?" asked Mazer. "If we can find a way to neutralize it, we would remove the threat entirely."
"We're working on a counteragent," said Shenzu. "The military established a level-four containment facility here in Lianzhou. General Sima has a team of bioengineers there studying samples of the gas."
"Who are the researchers?" asked Wit. "Military?"
"Mostly. There are a few civilians as well, specialists brought in from Hong Kong at the Politburo's insistence."
"Where did they get samples of the gas?" asked Mazer.
"Initially we had bioweapons experts collecting gas in the field," said Shenzu. "They sucked up pockets of it from the air or wiped up residue that had settled onto surfaces or standing water." He shook his head. "It didn't work, though. The collected samples were too dissipated at that point, too mixed with our airborne molecules, making it near impossible to isolate the alien compounds. They needed the gas in a more condensed form, they realized."
"You went after the goo guns," said Mazer. "The sprayers the Formic death squads carry."
The weapons were of a simple design. Each consisted of a tube-shaped backpack attached to a long metal wand the Formic swung lazily back and forth, killing everything in its path. It was not unlike the sprayers pest controllers used, a fact Mazer had found morbidly ironic. Now the bugs were spraying us.
"Taking them hasn't been easy," said Shenzu. "The Formics collect their dead. As soon as we kill one, a swarm of them sweep in on skimmers and gather up the corpse and its weapons. It's almost as if they know instantly when one of their kind falls."
"How many goo guns have you collected?" asked Mazer.
"Not enough," said Shenzu.
The jeep reached a checkpoint at the bridge's entrance, and the soldier on duty waved them through. They crossed the bridge and made their way into Lianzhou. The city was empty and eerily quiet. The people had left in a hurry, abandoning everything. An overturned stroller lay on the sidewalk. A food truck was parked at the corner, its side window open as if ready for business.
Shenzu ignored the blinking traffic lights and drove four blocks east to the municipal building, a bland, two-story concrete structure. He parked and led them up to the second floor.
General Sima had commandeered a corner office with windows that afforded him a view of his camp across the river. He stood at a holotable, studying a series of maps projected in front of him. He wiped the map's contents away as soon as Mazer and the others entered.
Shenzu approached the table, snapped to attention, saluted, and spoke in Chinese. "General Sima, I present captains Wit O'Toole and Mazer Rackham."
Sima came around the table and regarded Wit and Mazer coolly. He was older than Mazer expected. Midsixties perhaps, well past retirement. His eyes were dark and full of suspicion. His brown wool uniform was stiff and unadorned save for a single rank insignia on his right shoulder.
"The American and the Maori," said General Sima. He spoke in English with a heavy accent. "I have read your service records. You both have quite the impressive list of accomplishments. Even you, Captain Rackham, whose service has been relatively short." He turned back to the table, made a hand gesture in the holofield, and Wit's and Mazer's records appeared.
General Sima scanned the documents. "Captain O'Toole, former U.S. Navy SEAL. Highly decorated. More successful ops on your record than most special-ops soldiers have in a lifetime. And you, Captain Rackham. Pilot. Commendations. Test scores off the charts." He turned back to them. "Soldiers to the core, the both of you. And yet, despite this overwhelming evidence of heightened intelligence, you both seem to believe you can come to my country and do whatever the hell you want." He flicked his wrist and their records disappeared, replaced with a large photo of a black crater in the earth. It took Mazer a moment to understand what he was looking at--the landscape was so different from how he had seen it last. The Formic lander and adjacent mountain of biomass were obliterated. Nothing remained save for a few scraps and pieces no bigger than Mazer's hand.
General Sima faced them. "You both stand accused of detonating a nuclear device on Chinese soil without the consent of this government. A capital offense. How do you plead?"
"Is this a court-martial?" asked Wit.
"Of sorts."
"Mazer Rackham and I were acting in the best interest of China, sir. The lander was slaughtering your people. Our tactics were extreme, yes, but only because they were necessary. The lander had to be obliterated. It was a base of operations for many of the Formic transports and flyers. It was full of enemy combatants. There was a mountain of rotting corpses beside it. The whole area was an environmental disaster."
"You created an environmental disaster," said Sima, gesturing to the crater.
"It was a contained nuke, sir," said Wit. "The structure took most of the blast. The
re will be minimal fallout. Our hope was that you would mimic our tactics and take out the other two landers."
"We will," said Sima. "We have drill sledge teams prepping as we speak."
"I'm glad to hear it," said Wit. "If we can be of any assistance--"
General Sima glowered. "Do you think we would use you after you showed such contempt for our government?"
"Contempt, sir?" said Wit.
"Did you seek permission from the Politburo or the CMC? No. Did you defer to the military and allow us to conduct our own operations? No. Did you steal a nuclear armament from the PLA? Yes."
