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His teammates had made no sounds after the impact, and he hoped they hadn't felt the flames that had followed. That was something he could not forget: the raw heat of it, like the air itself was on fire. He had lain in the dirt a short distance away, breathing smoke and the pungent fumes of melting plastic and seared human flesh as the aircraft popped and crackled and sizzled in the fire.

He had been their leader. It had been his duty to protect them. And he had failed them; failed their families.

"We're coming up on the armored vehicle," said Shenzu.

Mazer slowed their approach and hovered over the site when they reached it, shining his spotlights down on the wreck. The two halves of the vehicle lay on the asphalt twisted apart like thin scraps of aluminum. The driver was still on his back in the center of the road where the Formics had left him.

Wit moved up into the cockpit. "Can we get a close visual on the driver?"

Mazer entered the command, and the image of the dead driver appeared in the holofield above the dash, the bright lights from the HERC giving the corpse a pale, ghostly appearance. The Formics had eviscerated him. A gash stretched across the full width of his stomach just above the navel, opening him like a sack. Much of his small intestines had slid out like a slick pink rope, hanging loosely at his side and atop his groin.

Shenzu turned away.

"Zoom in on his stomach," said Wit.

Mazer complied. It was a ghastly sight. The blood-stained uniform looked almost black in the harsh light.

"He couldn't have sustained that injury in the wreck," said Mazer. "It's too straight of a cut. And he was alive for too long after the fact. With a wound like that he would have bled out immediately."

"Meaning what?" said Shenzu.

"Meaning he likely didn't die from the abdominal wound," said Wit. "The Formics eviscerated him after he was dead."

Mazer zoomed in further, focusing on the abdominal skin flap. "Look at the incision. It appears cauterized."

"A laser?" said Wit.

"That would be my guess," said Mazer.

"Wait," said Shenzu. "You're saying the Formics waited until he was dead and then cut him open with a laser?"

"They didn't just cut him open," said Wit. "They reached inside him and dislodged a lot of his small intestines."

"Why?" said Shenzu.

Mazer shrugged. "Maybe it's their religion. A sort of death ritual. Maybe this is their way of honoring a fallen enemy."

"Then why haven't we seen them do this before?" said Wit. "They've done nothing to suggest they honor us at all."

"Maybe they've recognized we're a formidable enemy," said Mazer. "Maybe they underestimated us before and now they see we won't welcome extinction so easily."

"Or it could be the opposite," said Shenzu. "Maybe this is how they desecrate the dead. A show of dishonor, contempt, like pissing on a grave."

Wit inserted his wrist pad into the holofield and uploaded the images. "I'll send these back to General Sima and Strategos. Maybe they can make sense of it. Let's keep moving."

Mazer took off again, and they made good time. They spotted a few Formic fighters high overhead, but the fighters maintained their altitude and made no move to approach them. Ten minutes later, a half dozen skimmers popped up on the radar several klicks ahead of them, crossing their path and moving north. Mazer landed quickly near a cluster of trees and killed all power until the skimmers had moved on and were well out of range. Then he powered up again and pushed on.

When they reached the three demolished dozers, the edge of the horizon was just beginning to brighten with the arrival of dawn.

Mazer set the new dozer down on the highway and disengaged the talons.

The overturned dozer lay on its side slightly off the road, its bulky mass traversing a drainage ditch. A huge dent in its side suggested that something had hit it, crushing the main cabin partially inward. Mazer landed the HERC beside the dozer, then exited the aircraft behind Wit and Shenzu. The three of them climbed up onto the overturned dozer and found the driver still alive in the cabin. Other than a gash on his head he appeared unharmed.

"The door's crushed," the driver said in Chinese. "I can't open it."

It was true. The frame had twisted and folded inward. If not for the bracing bars inside the cabin, the man would have been crushed as well.

"We need to cut him out," said Wit.


Tags: Orson Scott Card The First Formic War Science Fiction