Wit's typed response was the same for all. "Who we are is irrelevant. Help the effort by broadcasting what we've learned. Show the vids. Share the tactics. Invite others in the fight to share their tactics, too. Focus on saving lives instead of offering useless entertainment."
Some would honor his request. Most wouldn't. What did they gain by playing the same vids as everyone else? They wanted exclusive content. They wanted exposes on MOPs, bios of its members, photos of loved ones back home.
Wit programmed the forum to filter any future media request and reply with his rote response.
Soon there were other posts as well. Anonymous messages from Chinese soldiers. Some expressed gratitude. Others shared information they had gleaned.
THE FORMICS DON'T SEEM TO USE RADIO. WE CAN'T DETECT ANYTHING. THEY DON'T SEEM TO RECOGNIZE OUR RADIO EITHER. OR IF THEY DO, THEY DON'T SEEM TO CARE.
THE FORMICS HEARING IS ODD. IT'S NOT ACUTE LIKE OURS. IT SEEMS TO BE BASED MORE ON PERTURBATIONS IN THE AIR, WHICH THEY CAN DETECT. LIKE BATS.
THE MIST IS LETHAL WITH ANY CONTACT. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BREATHE IT IN. WE'VE LOST MEN IN GAS MASKS. BUT THEIR WRISTS WERE EXPOSED, OR THEIR NECKS. THAT'S ALL IT TOOK.
Wit posted every tip onto the main site to give it more visibility.
Then he read the last forum entry. It was a spam post, offering life insurance. There were misspelled words and bad punctuation. It was not unlike the millions of other spam posts out there clogging the nets. Except ... it was different. Subtly so. It took Wit a few minutes to decipher the code. He then entered the code into his browser and waited. The screen went white. Then a command appeared: READ THE POEM ALOUD. A Shakespearean sonnet materialized on screen.
Voice recognition, Wit figured.
He began to read the text aloud. He hadn't finished the first stanza, when the poem disappeared and a vid began. Colonel Turley of the U.S. Delta Force--and current member of Strategos--faced the camera. It was a prerecorded message.
"Since you've cut off all communications with us, Captain, we have no choice but to reach you by other, less-secure means. You should know that a majority of Strategos is calling for your court-martial. Some are calling for your head. You've illegally used MOPs funds. And you've forced our hand. If we admit to the Chinese that we sanctioned your insertion, we'll take a serious beating in the Security Council for ordering an unauthorized, unlawful military act. If we deny that we sanctioned your insertion, then we look dangerously inept and incapable of controlling rogue operatives. We order you to turn yourself in and allow the Chinese to extradite you. Your heart is in the right place, Captain. But your behavior is not conducive to the policies and procedures of the Mobile Operations Police. Please act accordingly."
The vid winked out. Turley had been reading the statement, Wit noticed. Wit had seen how the man's eyes scrolled right to left. His heart wasn't in it either. A majority of Strategos might be calling for Wit's court-martial, but Turley almost certainly wasn't one of them. He was a hawk if there ever was one.
What surprised Wit most was that Strategos hadn't figured out the solution. He opened the site's e-mail and sent an encrypted message directly to Turley.
COLONEL, WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, I CANNOT IN GOOD CONSCIENCE ABANDON THIS EFFORT. TODAY WE WERE ABLE TO HELP HUNDREDS OF CIVILIANS AND DEVELOP A TACTICAL MANEUVER THAT INFLICTS HEAVY ENEMY CASUALTIES. YOU CAN SEE EVIDENCE OF EFFORTS AT OUR SITE. TO LEAVE NOW WOULD BE TO ABANDON THE THOUSANDS AND TENS OF THOUSANDS OF CIVILIANS WE INTEND TO HELP AND PROTECT IN THE FUTURE. FOR THEIR SAKE, I MUST REFUSE YOUR DIRECT ORDER AND SUFFER THE PERSONAL CONSEQUENCES.
IN THE MEANTIME, MAY I MAKE A SUGGESTION THAT MIGHT SOLVE YOUR DILEMMA? LIE TO THE WORLD. LIE TO THE SECURITY COUNCIL. TELL THEM CHINA REQUESTED OUR INSERTION. TELL THEM THEY ASKED FOR OUR HELP. PRAISE THE CHINESE FOR TAKING SUCH SWIFT ACTION IN THE DEFENSE OF THEIR CITIZ
ENRY. HONOR THEM. SHOWER THEM WITH COMPLIMENTS. USE OUR VIDS AS EVIDENCE. GIVE THE CHINESE BRASS ALL THE CREDIT. THE CHINESE WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO VALIDATE THE CLAIM. TO DENY IT IS TO TURN THEIR BACK ON THEIR PEOPLE AND CONDEMN WHAT HAPPENED TODAY.
He didn't sign it. He didn't want to use his name in any communications.
*
They found an abandoned hotel that night north of Chenzhou. Looters had ransacked the lobby. Wit took keys from behind the front desk and divvied them up among the men.
It was a nice hotel. There was hot water and soft beds. The air checked out. Calinga and a few others went out and returned with several cans of spray paint. Greens and browns and black and grays. Wit didn't ask where they had gotten them. They all met in the courtyard and camouflaged their containment suits. Then they returned to their rooms, hung their suits, and allowed them to dry.
Wit checked the news. Strategos had made a public statement praising the Chinese for requesting assistance from MOP troops. The press was directed to the footage of the transport ambush and rescue of Chinese civilians. It wasn't Wit's e-mail exactly, but it was close. The Chinese had wasted no time in responding. They praised MOPs' actions and promised that the government would continue to pursue all avenues to protect its people. It wasn't exactly a corroborative response but, more important, it wasn't a denial either.
Wit shut down his holopad and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had lost four men today, a tenth of his army on his first day of war. He couldn't sustain those losses. His whole unit would be wiped out in a little over a week at that rate. No, likely sooner. The fighting would get worse and more intense the closer they came to the lander. Plus the Formics would wise up to whatever tactics Wit and his men implemented. The enemy would adapt, reevaluate, change their MO. They would come at Wit in ways he hadn't considered.
Wit pushed all thought of the Formics aside.
He exhaled deep.
He let his muscles relax.
Then he allowed himself to think of those he had lost. He opened that part of him. He pulled from his memories. He brought to mind all the ridiculous moments they had shared. The pratfalls and dumb mistakes. The pranks and slips of the tongue. The dares given and the dares performed. All the moments that only he and they would find remotely amusing.
He had thought perhaps that such memories would make him laugh all over again, that he could stir up a cheerful mourning.
But no laughter came.
And when sleep finally took him and the Formics came in his dreams, the only laughter he heard was theirs.