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

do you have any intel about the men seeking to harm you?”
    Wit smiled. Normal soldiers would treat Wit as nothing more than a warm body to pull along. Pumping him for information would be against the “rules.” These men knew better. “I know our enemy well,” said Wit. “Both their skills and their tactics.”
    The questions came fast. How many men? What are their strengths? What weapons do they possess? Where might they take positions? How are they communicating?
    Twice the group picked up and moved their location, never staying in one spot for long. When the questions were exhausted they modified their route and made preparations to move. The first objective was to retrieve the last two rucksacks.
    Rather than venture into the open, three of the men spent half an hour hunting down the sniper, who had hid himself in a tree. The sniper put up little resistance. Once he had been spotted, he allowed himself to be shot, and his dampening suit glowed red.
    The New Zealanders retrieved the last two sacks and then, with Wit, moved east toward the safe house. They advanced with two men far out front, sweeping ahead of them. Two others protected Wit in the middle—though one of these, Mazer Rackham, was now unarmed. The last man took up the rear.
    The ambush came two kilometers later.
    Two of the New Zealanders went down, their bodies twitching, before any of the others had returned fire. The MOPs were all around them, in trees, behind logs, tucked in foxholes.
    Wit fired three shots, and three dampening suits glowed red in the trees. Two more shots, and two foxholes became quiet. The remaining New Zealanders took out another three MOPs before pulling Wit away to the south. Mazer Rackham, Wit noticed, had retrieved a weapon from one of the fallen soldiers. Spider rounds pinged into the trees and undergrowth around them.
    Seventy meters later, they were clear, hustling toward a ravine.
    They moved quickly, taking a circuitous route up the ravine, staying close and moving cautiously. Despite the weight of the rucksacks and the rush of adrenaline from the firefight, no one seemed winded.
    “Why did you give me your weapon?” Wit asked Mazer. “By arming me, you put me further into the fight. You drew more fire to me since I was now a threat to our enemy as well as a target.”
    “They were going to be shooting at you anyway, sir. And after weighing the advantages, after considering all we had to gain by arming you, I took that risk.”
    “What advantages?”
    “You’re more familiar with our pursuers. You’re a decorated and skilled soldier, so you’ll be at least as vigilant as I am. You also know our ammunition better than I do, so you’re more familiar with its velocity and other targeting considerations. You also intimately know the weapon and all of its capabilities. I don’t. Which means you’re probably a better shot than I am. Considering how you performed back there, I see that I was right. Most importantly, you have the capacity to defend yourself. In the chaos of a fight, we may not see all the threats to you. If something escapes our notice, you have the ability to eliminate that threat. Our mission is not to survive, sir. Our mission is to get you to the safe house. If you’re armed, you might be able to reach it even if the rest of us are dead.”
    Wit stopped moving. “Halt.”
    The three men stopped.
    “We should keep moving, sir,” said one of the other soldiers. “The safe house is only two kilometers away, and our position has been compromised.”
    “There is no safe house,” said Wit. “It’s an empty field. We’ve gone far enough.”
    “The exercise is over?”
    “Yes, it is. Come with me, gentlemen.” Wit entered a command on his handheld.
    Five minutes later they were down from the ravine, where a dozen MOPs soldiers were waiting. The two New Zealanders who had been shot in the ambush were there as well, visibly disappointed, certain they had failed.
    “Congratulations,