Earth Unaware (First Formic War) by Orson Scott Card, Aaron Johnston

hard to forget. If any of you have a pacemaker or are pregnant, I invite you to withdraw.”
    A few of the men cracked a smile.
    “Ah,” said Wit. “You’re not zombies, after all.” He showed them the pellet again. “My teammates are equipped with these same rounds. If you are struck, and believe me, you will know it, your participation in the exercise is over. Unlike real warfare, you are instructed to leave your wounded team members behind. If one of you drops, keep moving. Your mission is not to get your team to the safe house. Your mission is to get me to the safe house. I will be playing the role of a diplomat you have been assigned to protect. Should I be wounded, the exercise is over. Like my men hiding in the forest, I am wearing what is called a dampening suit. If struck it will take the electric shock of a spider round without harming me. Since all of you are so concerned with my personal safety, I thought I’d mention it.”
    Another grin from the men.
    “Please wear your helmets and visors at all times. You have five hours to deliver me to the safe house.” Wit donned his own helmet and tightened the chinstrap. “Begin.”
    The men immediately moved into action, putting on their helmets and forming a perimeter around Wit with their backs to him.
    “Please kneel down, sir,” said one of the men.
    Wit took a knee, hiding himself behind the circle of soldiers.
    Mazer had hung back and was now snapping cartridges into the rifles and tossing them to the soldier in the perimeter nearest him. That man passed two rifles to his left and one to his right until every man in the circle was armed.
    Wit was impressed. The whole maneuver had taken only a few seconds, and the men had reacted smoothly without speaking to one another, as if this had been a drill they had run hundreds of times.
    Shots from the trees to the north pegged into the dirt around them. Intentional misses. Something to get the blood up.
    Rough hands lifted Wit to his feet, and the men retreated to the south tree line, maintaining a defensive wall around Wit. One of the New Zealanders laid down cover fire, having set his P87 to three-round bursts. Mazer grabbed three rucksacks and followed. The men set up a defensive position in the trees and emptied one of the rucksacks. Mazer found the coordinates and compass and mapped out a route.
    Once their destination was known and they felt safe from enemy fire, the real discussion began. Everything was considered. There was a sniper to the north. There were two rucksacks still in the field. The three rucksacks they had recovered all had the same equipment, so they weren’t likely to find anything new in the other two sacks. They had limited ammunition. The forests narrowed at some spots, which were ideal locations for an ambush. They had water, yes, but no food. And the clock was ticking.
    Wit noted how each of the men spoke calmly and intelligently, pointing out potential dangers or possible alterations to their route. A few of the suggestions Wit hadn’t considered, and he was pleased to see that the others recognized the wisdom of these comments. No one tried to talk over anyone else, and each of them was humble enough to recognize an idea better than their own.
    All of them were aware that Wit was watching them, of course. They knew that this moment was as important as any action they would undertake along the way. And yet it was clear to Wit that none of them was trying to impress him. This was how they had been trained to act. Orderly, efficiently, cohesively, and without ego.
    Mazer Rackham turned to Wit. “Are you a soldier, sir, as well as a diplomat in this exercise? Meaning, for the purpose of our exercise, do you know how to fire this weapon?”
    “Yes I do.”
    “And will you use it to defend yourself to the best of your ability?”
    “Yes I will.”
    Mazer immediately surrendered his rifle to Wit.
    A second soldier spoke up. “Sir, as a diplomat familiar with this hostile scenario,