“Surely we’re not the only passengers,” Bingwen said, as he followed Captain Li toward the shuttle.
Li laughed. “Hardly. This is an all-purpose shuttle, mostly reserved for VIPs. They can arrive minutes before liftoff. You, as a non-VIP, don’t have that luxury. You’re first on, last off. And since I’m forced to escort you, I must be as well. You’ll stay in the back throughout the flight. Don’t talk to anyone unless they address you first. Understood?”
“Yes, sir, Captain Li, sir.”
The response was overly formal, but it felt natural to Bingwen’s ears by now. Over the years he had learned to comply with Captain Li’s particular demands for respect. To ignore them was to invite work detail or other punishments. Better to give the man what he wanted and save the objections for the battles worth fighting.
They took their seats beside each other in the back.
Li rested his elbows on the armrests, steepled his fingers in front of him, and regarded Bingwen. “Did China make the right decision?” Li asked.
It was a test. It was always a test with Li. He was obviously referring to China’s decision to give up troops. And like always, there was only one correct answer in Li’s mind. An answer Bingwen was expected to know and explain thoroughly.
“Without question,” Bingwen said. Li had taught him not only to give direct answers, but also to give them with absolute certainty. A soldier must always exude strength. He does not waffle in his reports and replies. He responds directly, assuredly, immediately, and with confidence. If he does not know the answer, he says so without shame. Doing so may mark him as uninformed, but it will not mark him as weak.
“Which explanation do you want?” Bingwen asked. “The military reason, the economic reason, or the political reason?”
“All of the above,” said Li.
Bingwen nodded. “Politically, China didn’t have much choice. The media in Europe and the West were planting the idea that the loss of Copernicus was China’s fault. Up until now the world has given China a free pass. We suffered the most causalities and collateral damage from the war. Our economic infrastructure was on the verge of collapse. Our centers of commerce, our biggest cities, were primary targets and left largely in ruins. Agriculturally we lost millions of hectares of crops, nearly wiping out the rice industry and ending trade agreements we had long maintained with the West. China was in an extremely precarious situation, and the world was sympathetic, allowing us to abstain from troop and other IF commitments as we went through a period of reconstruction. We took the beating for the world, so the world gave us a pass.
“But sympathy can last only so long, particularly in the face of a rising immediate global threat. So they make us the scapegoat for Copernicus and they suggest that all the trillions of credits that poured into our country to help us rebuild comes with a price. It’s not a handout, they say. It’s a hand up. There is an expectation there for us to step in and offer what assistance we can.
“To suggest that China is responsible for Copernicus is offensive in the extreme, but the idea seemed to be taking root in the global conscience. The world looked at us and said, you take and you take and you take, but you don’t give. We could not allow that perception to persist. We would be labeled as selfish. Our ambassadors and dignitaries would be shunned. No politician would want to be seen with the Chinese. We would be excluded from summits and discussions and international efforts. And most damaging, if we didn’t act, we would be susceptible to further accusations. Whenever the IF failed, the world would look at us again and say, ‘See? You did this. You’re not helping, and we’re losing as a result.’”
“And the economic implications?” said Li.
“Very similar,” said Bingwen. “By refusing to help, we invite economic alienation. Western corporations would reconsider their manufacturing efforts in China. And the threat of sanctions would send a lot of foreign companies running for the hills, making deals in less politically charged Asian nations. We have already seen much of our commerce bleed into Indonesia and Vietnam. If sanctions were imposed on China, that trickle would become a flood. We can’t afford that. Literally. Even mild economic sanctions would cut us off at the knees. The Hegemon knew that. And so did Beijing. Nor can we afford losing the IF as a customer. Innovation, manufacturing, communication. Much of the nation’s economic health depends on our maintaining strong relations with the IF. We are their fifth largest supplier of goods. If they took their business elsewhere, it would throw us into an immediate recession.”
“If that’s true,” Li said, “then why didn’t the Hegemon play that card before when he has asked for troops?”
“Because he didn’t have to,” Bingwen said. “The IF has more than enough troops and recruits already. In fact, it probably has more than it knows what to do with. It recruited heavily from corporate mining crews, it took on free-miner enlistees by the thousands, and it accepted tens of thousands of men and women serving in militaries on Earth. And the IF did this without having any place to put these people. There was no military fleet in space with empty bunks to house them all. No training facilities on Luna. No depots or stations exclusive to the IF. There was nothing. Those that could were put to work building the ships, but for the longest time, the IF had more soldiers than it had bunks. That still may be the case, but the IF certainly isn’t going to say so. It’s going to claim to desperately need troops.”
“And the military implications?” Li asked.
“The International Fleet is not going away,” Bingwen said. “If we are fortunate enough to win this war, the IF won’t simply disband. The whole idea of war has changed for the human race. We can no longer afford to fight each other when there are greater enemies out among the stars. If we want to survive as a species, we must band together and maintain the Fleet, not solely for the Formic threat, but for others that might exist as well. China must have a presence and voice in that organization. The IF will hold incredible power and to deny ourselves participation is to invite our own decline. We can’t allow that. We do ourselves a great disservice by standing on the sidelines. China needs to prove itself to the world again. We need war heroes. We need great military commanders who have influence in the IF and who can represent China’s strength and maintain our standing in the world. The war was humiliating for China. Our position in the ranking of global powers dropped considerably. We were deemed weak. This despite the fact that no nation on Earth would have had any more success taking on the Formics than we did. Militarily, we had no choice but to commit troops.”
“You make it sound so obvious,” said Captain Li. “Why then did China not commit troops a long time ago? Why did the Hegemon have to force us into action?”
“Simple,” said Bingwen. “Fear. The more troops we send into space the fewer troops we have defending our homeland. There persists the fear in Beijing that the Formics will break through whatever defense the IF tries to establish and that the enemy will reach the planet. And if all of our military resources are in space, the people of Earth, and particularly the people of China, would be vulnerable and exposed. China cannot withstand another land-based attack. If the Formics land in China, our nation as we know it would be wiped out. We don’t have the military we did before, even by hoarding all of our troops. To give up any troops makes us even weaker and more vulnerable.
“It’s easy to fault Beijing for this thinking,” Bingwen continued, “but this is the culture of China. There is no nation other than China, no society and traditions worth preserving other than those found in China, no people more important than the Chinese. We have a very insular way of looking at the world. In a universe where humans are the only dominant sentient species, this perspective could be excused. But not anymore. The world is our nation now.”
“You speak disrespectfully of our leaders in Beijing,” said Li.
“I mean no disrespect,” said Bingwen. “I’m merely trying to articulate what I think may be the ideas and perceptions that drive their decisions. Bu
t of course I cannot know for certain. I am but an ignorant child. You of course understand these matters far better than I do.”
Li smiled. “Always so deferential, Bingwen. Always so polite.”
“You are my elder. What can I be other than polite and deferential?”
“I sent men to kill you, and still you show me respect?”
“If you sent men to kill me, you clearly wanted me to learn something from the experience. You are a brilliant teacher, and some lessons must be learned the hard way, I suppose. Either that or I deserved to die.”
Captain Li laughed. “Let’s stop playing pretend for a moment, Bingwen. Do you honestly think I would want you dead, after the years of investment I have made into your training? Would I send ignorant thugs to take you down?”
“You just admitted that you had.”
“I sent ignorant thugs to make an attempt on your life. That’s a very different thing. And I did so because I knew you could easily best them. Why do you think you are sitting here? Because I wrote Beijing a letter of recommendation? Because I tossed your name into a hat? I am not the only commander who controls your life, Bingwen.”
“So it was a test? To see what I would do to those men?”
“The men were only part of the test. My superiors also wanted to see what you did afterward. If you killed the men, there would be consequences in your unit. How would you handle that? Many in your company despised you already, which gave some of my superiors pause. A disliked commander can be effective, yes, but it is preferable if he has the loyalty and respect of his men.”
“They despised me because I’m a child. You made sure they despised me. You wouldn’t allow me to keep anyone who supported me.”
“Which forced you to constantly find ways to earn their respect,” said Li. “Men cycle in and out constantly in war, Bingwen. Not everyone survives. When replacements and reinforcements arrive, you must earn their respect as well. You can’t count on the loyalty of your original unit to carry you through.”
“So I passed your test?”
“It wasn’t my test. There are many people who watch you and evaluate the decisions you make, Bingwen. I’m merely their representative. But yes, you passed. Your actions were a little more theatrical than we had expected, but it got the job done. Even so, there are many who think me a great fool and fail to see the wisdom of what I’m doing.”
“And what are you doing?”
“I am preserving China, Bingwen. You said so yourself. China needs heroes. China needs commanders to exude strength and wisdom.”
“I’m twelve years old,” said Bingwen. “I can’t be a war hero. The world would think it a violation of a child’s rights. I’m not a commander.”
“No. But you will be someday. Years from now. When you’re older. And your training from a young age, your experiences through your childhood and adolescence will make you all the more capable to lead when the time comes.”
“Then why not keep me on Earth? Away from the fighting? If China hopes to use me as a tool when I am an adult, why throw me into the fray and risk my life?”
“You said so yourself,” said Li. “Some lessons must be learned the hard way.”
“Are there others?” Bingwen asked. “Like me? Orphaned children being thrown into war?”
Li smiled. “First off, you’re not a child. And we’re not throwing you into war. You’re going willingly. Second, while you are special, you are not so special that China is putting all its chips on you. There are others. Many, in fact. I can tell you that now. Some are far more capable than you. But we expect the program to experience losses. Not everyone will rise to the top. The hope is that those who excel and survive are those who have the capacity to lead in the future.”
“So you’re willing to kill off a few children to weed out the ones who don’t measure up,” said Bingwen.
“You make it sound unethical,” said Li.
“Isn’t it? I’m a preteen. There are international laws against this kind of thing. It’s a war crime to put a weapon in my hand.”
“I don’t see a weapon in your hand,” said Li.
“I am the weapon,” Bingwen said. “Or at least the hope is that I will be someday.”
“You’re in training, Bingwen. This is a continuation of your training. There is nothing illegal about putting you in school. The state demands it, in fact.”
“So this is school? Me leading a company of soldiers, that was school? That wasn’t the military?”
“The respect you normally preserve in your tone is quickly eroding, soldier. I suggest you take a moment to remind yourself that you are speaking to a senior officer.”
Bingwen was quiet a moment. “Yes, sir. My apologies, sir.”
“It has always been school, Bingwen. From the moment Mazer Rackham saved you, to your involvement in the MOPs, to your training since the war. Those are experiences that have shaped you. Hard experiences. Painful even. But you are who you are because of them.”
Other passengers began to arrive and take their seats, and Li and Bingwen fell silent. Moments before takeoff a young woman in white Buddhist robes boarded and took the seat across the aisle from Bingwen. There were no other passengers near them. Bingwen looked down the aisle and saw several commanders and dignitaries sitting in more comfortable chairs in the front. Captain Li seemed to notice also, and just before the shuttle took off, he moved seats and took an available one near the front, hobnobbing with senior brass.
The shuttle lifted straight up into the air, and the woman beside him tensed, maintaining a white-knuckle grip on her armrests. After a few minutes, the sudden shock of liftoff wore off and Bingwen felt himself calming. The woman seemed no less terrified.
“First time flying?” he asked in English.
“I flew from Thailand to get here. But other than that, yes.”
“Me too,” he said. “Except we flew from China.”
“You’re handling it much better than I am,” said the woman.
“It’s not so bad, really. Your body is already used to it. We’ll be weightless soon, and then it’s easy. Or so I’m told. I’m looking forward to it, really. You hear all about it, that constant state of free fall … I’m not helping, am I?”
“Just don’t say ‘free fall,’” the woman said. “Even though I know that’s precisely what the sensation is.”
He reached across the aisle. “I’m Bingwen.”
She hesitated, not sure if she wanted to release her grip to take his hand. Then she finally did so. Bingwen gave it a quick shake. “Wila,” she said.
“Are you headed to Luna?” Bingwen asked.
“No. To the Rings. It’s a research facility that encircles the Formic scout ship.”
“Are you a religious leader?” Bingwen asked. “A venerable Buddhist monk or something?”
She laughed, which relaxed her a little bit. “I’m not a monk at all, in fact. Not in our order. I’m a woman. Hence the white robes instead of the saffron ones. And no, I’m not a religious leader. Just a believer.”
“So you work for Juke Limited?” Bingwen asked.
She looked at him, as if surprised that someone so young would know that Juke ran the facility. “I’m a new hire,” she said.
“Good company,” said Bingwen. “Congratulations.”
“We’ll see. I hope I made the right choice.”
“Lem Jukes has his enemies,” Bingwen said, “and he can come off as narcissistic and obnoxious, but he actually has good intentions. I think you’re probably in good hands.”
She looked at him curiously. “You say that like you know the man.”
Bingwen shrugged. “We met once. Via holo. He wouldn’t remember me.”
She held her gaze on him a moment, as if not sure if she believed him.
“I’m guessing you’re not a factory worker,” said Bingwen. “I’d say a scientist of some sort. A physicist maybe.”
“Close,” she said. “Biochemist. I’ve been studying the hu
ll of the Formic scout ship.”
Bingwen remembered then. It had been all over the press. “So you won the contest, to see who could help crack the hull conundrum?”
“It wasn’t a contest, per se,” said Wila. “They’re just looking for new ideas and perspectives.”
“And you gave them one,” Bingwen said.
She shrugged. “I suppose. I don’t know if I’m right, though.”
“But you think you’re right. And someone at Juke believes you might be right. Otherwise they wouldn’t have scrambled to get you on the next shuttle out of Asia.”
“And where are you headed?” she asked.
Captain Li had not given him specific instructions to keep his destination quiet, and he was curious to see how someone else would respond. It had been so long since he had spoken with anyone outside of the military, and he was certain this woman was not IF. “Immediately we’re headed to Luna,” he said. “Then we leave for a space station near Mars called Variable Gravity Acclimatization School, or VGAS. More commonly known as Gravity Camp, or GravCamp, which is shortened to Gramp, colloquialized as Gramps. It’s got all kinds of names.”
“Sounds like a military facility.”
“It is.”
She glanced at him. He was not wearing a uniform, per Li’s instructions. “Are you going to live there with your father?” she asked.
Bingwen laughed. “You mean Captain Li? He’s not my father.”
“Oh. I just assumed since he was sitting with you.”
“No. My father was killed in the First Formic War. He was nothing like Li.”
She turned her head then, regarding him intently. “I am sorry for your loss, Bingwen. I wish I could take that hurt and suffering from you.”