Earth Afire (The First Formic War) by Orson Scott Card, Aaron Johnston Page A

and ricocheted off the HERC’s armor as Reinhardt got them into position over the tank. Since the gravlens had no effect on anything below the HERC but only on things above it, the tank didn’t so much as twitch. Thick bumper bars lowered from the underbelly of the HERC on either side of the gunnery bubble to keep it from being crushed by the payload.
    “Bars are down,” said Fatani.
    “Initiating load talons,” said Mazer. He blinked the command, and the massive talons on either side of the HERC extended outward and unfolded themselves. There were three talons on either side, each a hooked blade with heavy rubber padding along its edges. Mazer extended his hands into the holofield in front of him on the dash. The talons responded to his hand gestures, diving downward and acting as a claw, wrapping around the tank and scooping it off the ground. Reinhardt compensated with the gravlens and suddenly the tank was airborne.
    “Locking payload,” said Mazer, blinking out the command. Beneath the tank, opposing talons extended farther until they reached one another and locked in to place.
    The enemy fire from the trees had stopped by now, but Patu continued to lay down cover fire as the HERC banked hard to the south and headed home.
    Fatani and his seat rose up from the floor and returned to their original position. He then snapped the safety harness and cable winch to his vest and unbuckled himself from the seat. Steadying himself against the wall, he punched in the command to retract the bubble. The bubble’s sections of glass separated and folded away, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the HERC’s floor. The ceiling hatch to the Copperhead was two meters below it. Fatani turned to Patu and yelled over the roar of the wind. “You sure you don’t want to take care of the wounded?”
    “Positive. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the opportunity to show off your keen medical skills.”
    Fatani sighed. “They better not be bleeders.” He positioned himself over the hole and used the winch to lower himself down the hatch.
    Mazer watched the feed from Fatani’s helmetcam as Fatani opened the hatch and lowered himself into the tank. There were no bleeders inside. There weren’t even dummies. There were two live men, both in safety helmets and heavy padding. Mazer didn’t recognize either of them. One was in a business suit, and the other was in a tan uniform Mazer didn’t recognize.
    “Sergeant Fatani,” said the one in the suit. “So good to see you. I was just telling Captain Shenzu here that you’re the finest gunner in the NZSAS.”
    To Fatani’s credit, he didn’t respond with a stunned silence. Rigorous training and a cool head will do that for you. “Are either of you wounded?” he asked.
    The man in the suit laughed and waved a hand. “No, no. We’re fine. We had Colonel Napatu put in that bit of intel to get you to come down here and pull us out. Shall we go up? Captain Shenzu would very much like to see the cockpit.”
    “Of course,” said Fatani, as if this were the most natural of requests in the world.
    In under a minute, Fatani had the recovery straps around each of the men’s chests. He then carefully powered up the winch and raised them into the HERC. By then, Mazer was out of the copilot’s seat and giving the men a hand, helping them into the cabin.
    “Lieutenant Mazer Rackham,” said the man in the suit. “An honor to meet you. I hope our little Hercules has met your expectations.”
    His accent was European, but Mazer couldn’t place it. “You seem to know all of us, sir. Yet we don’t have the honor of knowing you.”
    “Where are my manners?” He extended a hand. “Heinrich Burnzel. Global sales. Juke Limited.”
    A salesman. This was getting stranger by the moment.
    “And this is Captain Shenzu of the People’s Liberation Army,” said Burnzel. “A most respected officer of the Chinese military.”
    Shenzu bowed slightly and shook Mazer’s hand. “Very