“Go,” said Mazer. “Straight up if you can.”
There was movement to Mazer’s left and right as the tips of the talons dipped into the earth, grabbing at the tree. The boy seized Mazer’s hand and shut his eyes tight. The talons shifted, clawing, tightening their grip. Mud rained down. Bingwen turned his head away. Mazer leaned forward, shielding the boy’s face.
Then the whole tree lifted up and away, branches swaying, cracking, dumping dirt. Sunlight poured into the hole. Bingwen blinked at the light.
Patu was beside them with the med kit in an instant. Mazer took out the Med-Assist Kim had given him and examined Bingwen’s arm. There was a hairline fracture on the boy’s lower radius. Mazer scanned again to be certain and smiled. “Your arm’s going to be fine, Bingwen. Lieutenant Patu here is going to give you something for the pain, then we’ll slip a cast on you. Have you ever had a cast before?”
“No.”
“You’ll love it. It’s like having a giant muscle on your arm.”
Patu readied a syringe, wiped at a spot on the boy’s arm, and administered the shot. Bingwen flinched. The drug worked quickly. Mazer could see the boy relax, as if a knot inside him was unraveling. The old man hovered over them, watching their every move.
“Let’s get him in the HERC,” said Mazer. He got his arms under Bingwen’s back and legs and lifted, holding the boy’s frail body close to his chest. He weighed next to nothing.
Bingwen winced, cradling his arm.
Reinhardt flew the HERC in close. The talons were tucked away and secure, the tree tossed off to the side in the mud.
Patu helped the old man aboard, and Mazer and Bingwen followed. Fatani slammed the door shut behind them, and they were soaring upward again, leaving the valley far below.
Mazer lay Bingwen gingerly on the floor and secured him with a strap. Patu knelt beside him, carefully taking the boy’s arm in her hand and wiping it clean with gauze.
“What’s the status on the lander?” said Mazer.
“No movement,” said Fatani. “All’s quiet. But if it so much as flinches, the whole world will know. Every major network is running our feed live.”
“Good,” said Mazer. “Keep the cameras rolling.”
Patu took the sleeve cast out of its bag. It was long and loose and fibrous and made for an adult. She dug a pair of scissors out of the med kit, eyed the length of Bingwen’s arm, and cut the cast down to his size. Then, moving slowly so as not to jostle his arm, she slid Bingwen’s hand into the sleeve cast. “Now hold your arm up a bit so I can slide this on. That’s it, nice and straight.”
She slipped the sleeve cast up his arm, stopping just below the shoulder. Then she pulled the pin. The cast inflated, molding to Bingwen’s arm. Then the fibrous exterior tightened and went rigid. A single beep issued, signaling the cast had set.
“How does that feel?” asked Patu.
Bingwen gave it a tentative wiggle. “Heavy.”
Then his eyes widened, and he tried to sit up. “Stop! We have to go back. My friends. Hopper and Meilin. They’re still down there. Turn around. Please. We have to go back.”
Mazer exchanged a glance with Patu.
The old man came over and put an arm around Bingwen. “Lay down, boy.”
“No, Grandfather. We have to dig them out. We have to.” The boy looked desperate, his eyes welling with tears, his good hand clutching the old man’s filthy shirt. “Hopper and Meilin, Grandfather. Hopper and Meilin.”
The old man shook his head sadly, wrapped his arms around the boy, and pulled him close. Bingwen buried his face in his grandfather’s chest and began to sob.
Mazer watched, feeling helpless. There had been two other people down there. Children, probably. But where? Mazer hadn’t seen anyone near the tree. And his scanners hadn’t picked up anyone either. He wanted to reach out to the boy, calm him, reassure him, tell him that his friends had gotten out in time, that they had escaped the mudslide. But he knew it wasn’t true. The old man’s face said as much.
“I got aircraft coming in from the northwest,” said Reinhardt. “Helicopters and VTOLs. Twelve of them. All medevacs from the military.”
“About time,” said Fatani.
They were coming because of the camera feeds, Mazer knew. They’re coming because of us, because of what we were showing the world. The video the HERC was taking of the lander and villagers in distress had forced the Chinese to act. The whole world was watching. In homes all over the planet, families stared in horror as Chinese rice farmers screamed and cowered under the onslaught of the lander. But where was the Chinese military? the viewers at home would ask. Where were the emergency crews? Where was the help? Why wasn’t China doing more?