"Get them out before they bleed over everything," said Li.
The three Chinese soldiers set their rifles aside. One of them slid open the side door, and a burst of cold air filled the cargo hold. The gunfire was louder now. Bingwen could see nothing but forest outside, but there were flashes of light from the gunfire ahead. The three soldiers dragged the dead men to the door and dumped them outside onto the gravel. It took two of them working together to move Shihong.
Lieutenant Li tapped something into his wrist pad. "Very clever of you, Bingwen. Distracting them like that, winning their trust. That made this much easier."
Bingwen stared down at the pool of blood by the pallet. It was thick and black in the semidarkness.
All was quiet outside now. The four soldier hostages appeared at the door and climbed inside, each carrying a small pistol. More soldiers followed them in, wearing body armor and carrying heavy rifles.
Li faced Bingwen "You hate me. But governments cannot tolerate banditry. Ever. We can't negotiate with bandits because it never ends. More people turn to banditry because it pays. Still, we did their village a service. Now they have thirty fewer mouths to feed. We may have just saved the lives of the rest of the villagers."
Bingwen's eyes were vacant, his arms slack at his side. He stared at the blood.
"And maybe we didn't," said Li. "But I saved the rations my soldiers need. I fed you. I kept you alive. Was I wrong?"
"There is no right and wrong," said Bingwen. "You decided. You acted. You won. Now we clear the track and get the train moving again."
Li nodded and holstered his weapon. "I see that you understand war."
What I understand is you, thought Bingwen. Power without honor, order without civilization.
He was not going to run away, he decided. He would go to this school. He would become a soldier. But he would not become the monster of war they hoped to make him. He would not become Lieutenant Li. He would become what the world needed. A Mazer Rackham. Decisive, yet kind. Lethal, yet gentle. Otherwise, the Lis of the world would run the military, and it would make no difference if we won or lost this war.
CHAPTER 21
Strike Team
When the MOPs' shuttle arrived on Luna, they all came down the exit tube with such giant, clumsy, bumbling steps, bouncing off the walls and each other, laughing like a bunch of schoolchildren, that Victor was certain the whole operation was doomed to failure.
"These are our super soldiers?" he whispered to Lem. The two of them were standing in the terminal, waiting to greet the arrivals.
"They're not used to Luna's gravity," said Lem. "Everyone's like this their first time. They'll adapt."
Two MOPs collided at the end of the tube and fell into the terminal on top of each other. This seemed like an invitation to the others to add to the dog pile
, and soon there was a mountain of flailing arms and legs in puffy spacesuits, amid laughter and curses and a good deal of shoving.
"This isn't instilling in me much confidence," Victor said to Lem.
Three more soldiers appeared in the tube, bringing up the rear. They moved with greater caution, taking measured steps. Victor recognized their faces through their visors: Wit O'Toole, Mazer Rackham, and Shenzu. By the time they reached the terminal, the other MOPs were on their feet and steadying each other.
Wit shook hands with Lem and Victor. "So much for making a good first impression."
"You made your first impression long ago, Captain O'Toole," said Lem. "Welcome to Luna."
There were introductions all around. Victor had already learned their names and faces from their dossiers, but he made a show of learning them now.
"Space born, eh?" said Cocktail. "We must look like a pack of uncoordinated imbeciles to you."
"You'll get the hang of it," said Victor. "Right now your mind is accustomed to your body moving in a certain way. The gravity here throws that out of alignment. Once we get in zero-G, you'll find it much easier."
They loaded into a large skimmer and left the gate, heading back toward the warehouse.
"There are a few legal matters we must attend to before leaving Luna," said Lem. "I apologize in advance. Our corporate attorneys want to ensure that we don't get sued in the event of an injury or your demise. You'll need to sign a few things."
"'Your demise,'" repeated Bungy. "I love lawyer-speak. 'Your demise.' It's so polite. In reality it means an alien gutted you and melted your face with toxic goo, but 'demise' is so much more delicate."
"What's the difference between a porcupine and two lawyers in a sports car?" asked ZZ. After a silence he said, "The porcupine has the pricks on the outside."