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"Bingwen is a MOP. A little shorter than most maybe, but he's been an integral part of our success."
Li scoffed. "You gave a weapon to a child?"
"He may not carry a gun, Li, but he knows the land, he knows the language, and he knows a few ways to kill Formics. He's got tactics in that little head of his that none of us had considered. His takedown idea for the transports has resulted in about..." He looked at the others. "How many would you say? Ten, twelve destroyed transports?" He turned back at Li. "Can you say that, Lieutenant? Can you say you've been responsible for destroying a dozen transports?"
Li glanced down at Bingwen, and there was only disdain in his eyes.
When he lifted his gaze back to Deen, he said, "I'm to take you to a secret military facility. It's no place for a child."
"Agreed," said Deen. "But Dragon's Den is a big place, we're told. There are camps of civilians there as well. There's shelter and food for those who need it. Surely Bingwen has earned that much."
"The camps are beyond capacity."
Deen sighed. "Lieutenant, get on your radio. Call Dragon's Den. Ask for Captain Wit O'Toole. He's probably swapping war stories with a few of your generals right now. I'm sure they won't mind the interruption. Ask them if it's all right if Bingwen comes. I'm willing to bet all the tea left in China that you were supposed to bring him anyway."
Lieutenant Li scowled.
"Or, if you prefer to be difficult," said Deen, "kindly point us in the direction of Dragon's Den, and we'll walk there ourselves. When you arrive, you can explain to your commanding officer why you failed such a simple assignment."
The lieutenant's grip tightened around his handgun, and for an instant Bingwen thought everything would end badly. But then Lieutenant Li came to his senses and removed his hand from his holster.
"Very well. The boy may come. But all of you must relinquish your weapons."
Really? thought Bingwen. Are you that desperate to assert your authority? You make a mistake and rather than accepting it and moving on, you try to manipulate us some other way? How did this guy become a lieutenant?
But Deen wasn't having it. He started walking toward the back of the truck. "If we get attacked by a Formic death squad, Lieutenant, I doubt you want our weapons up in the cab with you."
And with that the MOPs loaded up into the truck fully armed without another word. Bingwen sat between Cocktail and ZZ, and when Deen sat across from him he gave Bingwen a wink.
They drove across blackened countryside and through mud so thick that twice the MOPs had to get out and push. Much of the land had been scoured--or stripped clean by the massive Formic harvesters that collected all the biomass the Formic gas had killed. In those areas, there was nothing left behind except for long strips of naked earth.
But there were also places where the Formic gas had done its work, but no harvester had come. These were the grisliest sights. Corpses, human and animal, vegetation black and dissolving, all of it slowly melting into the mud. Bingwen turned away as he always did.
Mother had died that way. Father, too.
He stared at the tips of his boots and tried to take his mind elsewhere.
The truck finally slowed and pulled into a massive hangar in the side of a mountain. The giant sliding doors closed behind them with a clang, sealing them inside. Bingwen and the others took off their helmets and breathed in fresh air.
The hangar was being used as a garage, Bingwen saw. Dozens of mechanics were hard at work repairing and outfitting all class of vehicles and aircraft: adding armor, installing guns, ripping parts from junked vehicles and welding them onto others. The air smelled of grease and rubber and burned wiring.
Bingwen stood with the others to climb down from the truck, when Mazer appeared at the tailgate. He saw Bingwen and smiled. "Hey, troublemaker. Long time, no see."
Bingwen couldn't help himself. He leaped from the back of the truck into Mazer's arms.
Mazer laughed and lowered him to the ground. "Whoa-ho-ho, you've gained about a thousand pounds, Bing. What are they feeding you? Boulders?"
"How was India?" asked Bingwen. "Why didn't you radio us?"
"Boring. And they wouldn't let us call anyone. Did you see the doughnut tower explode?"
"About a dozen times on the nets. Deen was trying to make the sound the ringchime on his wrist pad. Did you see the vids we uploaded at the site?"
Mazer gave Deen a disapproving look. "I did. And I wonder what possessed Deen to allow an eight-year-old near a firefight."
"You're one to talk," said Deen. "You took Bing to the lander. And anyway, he wasn't near the firefight in that vid. He was tucked away elsewhere. We kept him out of danger. Mostly." He shrugged. "And maybe you've forgotten how obstinate this kid can be. He's more stubborn than Wit."
"I heard that."
