Bingwen said, "So we'll be near each other and yet a world apart."
"You'll be out of the fighting, Bing. That's what important. This is a safe place."
"So this is good-bye?"
Mazer put a hand behind Bingwen's head. "It will never be good-bye between us, Bing." He pulled Bingwen's face close until their foreheads and noses touched. Then he pulled away. "In Maori culture, that's a hongi, a traditional greeting. It means we are both tangata whenua now, people of the land, brothers, sharing in the breath of life."
Bingwen nodded. "Brothers."
He threw his arms around Mazer's neck and they embraced a final time. Then Mazer stood and tousled Bingwen's hair.
"Stay safe, troublemaker."
They parted and Bingwen began to turn away but then he remembered something. "Oh, and Mazer."
Mazer turned back.
Bingwen tapped his forehead with a finger. "One in the head, good and dead."
Mazer smiled. It had been something Captain O'Toole had said to the men repeatedly, and it had grown into a sort of salutation whenever one of them went off to scout ahead or leave on patrol. It meant: If you see a Formic, don't hesitate. Put a bullet in its brain.
"We're a bad influence on you, Bing."
"Terrible. I'm probably scarred for life."
*
Bingwen followed Private Hun toward a metal staircase that led downward to the refugee camps. As they descended Bingwen asked in Chinese, "How old are you?"
"Eighteen," Hun said.
"How old are you really?" asked Bingwen.
Hun looked sheepish and lowered his voice. "Fifteen."
"You enlisted here?"
Hun nodded. "My village is gone. My mother, grandmother, little sister, they all..." He shook his head, not wanting to speak of it. Then he found his voice again. "I didn't have to do any training. I just told them I drove farming equipment, and they gave me a uniform."
"You think they'd give me an assignment?"
Hun scoffed. "You? How old are you? Seven?"
"Eight."
"Laundry maybe. Or latrines. But as a civilian. Not a soldier."
Bingwen shrugged. "Doesn't make much difference, I suppose."
Hun seemed affronted. "Of course it does. As a soldier you can fight."
"Did they give you a weapon?"
"Well, no. But if it comes to a fight, I'll take one, you can be sure of that."
They continued downward until they reached the bottom level, where Bingwen began to hear the cry of infants, the chatter and shuffle and movement of hundreds of people living in a small space.
"You're to go to Mama Goshi," said Hun. "She's the keeper of Claw. And believe me, she's not going to be happy to see you."