Earth Unaware (First Formic War) (40 page)

“I am not interested in science, Doctor,” said Lem. “Your scientific mind might be tickled pink at this discovery, but my mind, my logical, practical, reasoning mind, is peeing in his mind pants. There is an alien ship out there rocketing toward Earth with unimaginable firepower and likely malicious intent. Now, if there is any chance whatsoever that this is a hoax and Chubs and I are gullible idiots, tell me now.”

“No,” said Benyawe. “This is legitimate. The evidence is incontrovertible.”

“No doubt in your mind?” asked Chubs.

“None. We need to relay this information to Earth immediately.”

“We can’t,” said Chubs. “Long-range comm is currently shot because of the interference.”

“Even the laserline?” asked Benyawe.

“The transmitter’s out,” said Chubs. “El Cavador believes the venting of the alien ship may have damaged external sensors as far away as a million kilometers. We hadn’t tried sending a laserline in a while or we would have noticed the problem sooner.”

“Now you know what we know,” said Lem. “How do we respond to El Cavador? I’ve already gotten Chubs’s opinion. Now I want yours.”

Benyawe looked surprised by the question. “We tell them we’ll fight, of course. We tell them we’ll be at their side, giving them everything we’ve got. We have to stop that ship, Lem. Destroy it if we can, though I suspect their captain is correct. Crippling it is the best we can hope for. But as for our answer, it must be a resounding and absolute yes. The Makarhu will join the fight.”

Lem nodded gravely. “That’s what I thought you would say.”

“You disagree?” asked Benyawe. “It’s my vote against both of yours?”

“No,” said Lem. “The decision’s unanimous. We attack these bastards.”

CHAPTER 18

Formics

Two heads floated in the holospace in front of Concepción: Lem Jukes and Captain Doashang of the WU-HU Corporation. Their ships were still several days away from intercepting the Formic ship, but they were now close enough to each other that a three-way conference was possible without much interference. Concepción, despite feeling exhausted and suffering through a flare-up of arthritis in more places than she cared to count, put her best face forward in the holospace. Let them see my eyes and know that we as a family will not fail them.

There were introductions. Doashang seemed a most capable captain. Lem Jukes had an air of his father about him, which was to say confident in a way that was both alluring and off-putting at the same time. He was in his mid-thirties if Concepción had to guess. A child, really. Less than half her age. Goodness she was old. She had still been on Earth when she was that age, working in her father’s bodega in Barinitas, Venezuela, convinced that she would be stuck there in the heat and dust for the rest of her life, selling cold bottles of malta to the banana farmers as they came down from the fields.

How wrong she had been.

After the introductions, Lem wasted no time getting into tactics. He had surprised Concepción by accepting the call to help so readily, and Concepción had assumed that it was Lem’s conquering spirit—his need to subdue and bully—that had motivated him. But now, as he offered up ideas and showed concern for the safety of the other ships as well as his own, it occurred to Concepción that perhaps Lem’s compulsion to help might be driven by a genuine desire to protect Earth. That put Concepción’s mind at ease. Selfish motivations led to abandonment and betrayal in a fight, and if any of them hoped to survive, they would have to trust each other implicitly.

“If the pod took direct hits from the Italians and suffered no visible damage,” Lem said, “we can only assume that the main ship has the same shielding.”

“We won’t win this with lasers,” said Concepción. “The moment we open fire, the Formics will know we’re there. The instant they’re aware of us, we’re in trouble. They could vent their weapons like they did near Weigh Station Four, and we wouldn’t know what hit us.”

“Then how will we attack them?” asked Doashang.

“The Italians couldn’t damage the pod with laser fire,” said Concepción, “but a few of my men were able to land on the pod and cripple its sensors and equipment with tools.”

“There are no sensors or equipment on the surface of the Formic ship,” said Lem. “It’s smooth. There’s nothing to attack. Besides, it’s moving at a hundred and ten thousand kilometers per hour. Are you suggesting we put men on the surface of that ship at that speed?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” said Concepción. “The only way we know of to penetrate their shielding is to be on the surface, right there on the hull. We know the surface of the pod was magnetic, so there is a high probability that the surface of the main ship will be as well. If our men are equipped with magnets, they could crawl on the surface of the ship and plant explosives. We could set these on a timer with enough of a delay to get our men back to our ships and to move the ships a safe distance away. If we’re lucky, we can get in and out without the Formics even knowing we were there.”

“That avoids a firefight,” said Doashang. “I like that aspect.”

“What if the hull is so strong that explosives don’t damage it?” asked Lem. “We don’t know what material the ship is made of. It could be impervious to attack. It could be ten meters thick.”

“If that’s the case, then nothing we do can stop them,” said Concepción. “But we won’t know that until we at least try. And if the hull is impenetrable, then we’ve learned something valuable. That’s intelligence that will help whoever fights them next.”

“I’m assuming you have explosives,” said Lem.

“I’m assuming all of us have explosives,” said Concepción. “Don’t you occasionally use explosives to break up surface rock or open up a shaft?”

“I’ll have to check with our quartermaster,” said Lem.

“Aren’t you outfitted?” asked Concepción. “You very forcefully took our dig site. I assumed you wanted it for mining purposes. What were you going to do with it if not extract minerals?”

There was an awkward silence. Doashang looked back and forth between them.

“I’ll check with our quartermaster,” Lem repeated.

“You do that,” said Concepción. “Because the more explosives we plant, the more damage we’ll obviously inflict.”

“How would this work?” asked Doashang. “How do we safely get men onto the surface of the ship after we match its speed?”

“We make ziplines using mooring cables,” said Concepción. “Then we fire cables with magnetic anchors down to its surface. When the cables are secure, our miners clip onto the line and fly down to the surface with their propulsion packs. They can’t be wearing lifelines because we can’t fly that close to the Formic ship. But they could wear portable oxygen and batteries. They plant the explosives, crawl back to the mooring cable, then they either fly back up or we pull them up with the winch.”

“That’s a lot of moving parts,” said Doashang. “A thousand things could go wrong. What if the magnetic anchor hitting the ship alerts them? Or what if the surface of the ship can detect movement?”

“Possibilities,” said Concepción. “But unlikely. When we attacked the pod, the Formics only surfaced after we had damaged their equipment. We literally crashed into the side of them and spent several minutes on their hull before they responded.”

She was silent then, letting them mull it over.

Finally Doashang said, “I don’t have a better idea. And I agree that stealth is best. We don’t have a winch on our ship, though. So we’d be no help with the cables.”

“Actually I was going to suggest that your ship stay out of the fight entirely,” said Concepción.

“Why?” asked Lem.

“One of us needs to stay behind,” said Concepción. “The intelligence we have is too important to die with us. We sent one of our crewmen to Luna with much of this intel, but we have no way of knowing if he’ll arrive alive or if anyone will take him seriously. If this attack fails, someone needs to communicate everything we know with Earth. I suggest that be your ship, Captain Doashang. You can record everything from a distance. We can load all of the women and children from our ship onto yours prior to the attack in the event that something happens to us.”

“I agree,” said Lem. “Your ship is the smallest and least armored, Captain Doashang. If anyone stays back it should be you.”

Doashang sighed. “I don’t like being an observer. But I agree that everything we know must be relayed to Earth. If I’m to take on your noncombatants and children, we’ll have to dock our ships in flight at high speed, which is dangerous. We can’t decelerate to dock or we’ll never catch the Formic ship.”

“We’ll have to trust our computers and pilots,” said Concepción. “I’ll have our crew make preparations immediately.”

*   *   *

Rena went to the docking hatch at the designated time, carrying a small bag with a single change of clothes. Segundo stood beside her, an arm around her shoulders. There was commotion all around them: infants crying, mothers shushing them, small children flying about despite their parents’ stern commands to be quiet and still. A few of the women were crying too, particularly the younger mothers and brides, clinging to their husbands who were staying behind. Rena refused to cry. To cry was to acknowledge that something terrible might happen, that this parting between her and Segundo could be their last, and she refused to believe it.

The proximity alarm went off, startling her. It meant the WU-HU ship was close now, preparing to dock. Frightened children flew into their parents’ arms, and everyone watched the docking hatch at the end of the corridor. The hatch was solid steel without windows, but Rena stared at it as if she could see the approaching ship on the other side.

Segundo’s hand went to his handheld and turned off the alarm. Silence retuned to the corridor, then Segundo’s voice was loud. “There may be a jolt when they dock. Everyone get close to a wall and hold on to something.”

Parents immediately pulled their children in close and floated to one of the walls, clinging to a pipe or a handhold. Segundo and Rena moved to a corner and anchored themselves.

“Docking the ships like this is ridiculously dangerous,” said Rena quietly, and not for the first time.

“It’s necessary,” said Segundo.

“It is
not
necessary. We should be staying on the ship. Or at least I should. There’s no reason for me to go. I don’t have small children. Our only son isn’t even on the ship anymore. I should be staying with you. I’m useless on that ship.”

“You’re not useless,” said Segundo. “You have a talent for comforting others. These women need you, Rena, now more than ever. You can be a strength to them.”

“I can just as easily be a strength to you.”

He smiled. “And you always will be. But you can’t be by my side through this. I won’t be on the ship.”

She turned her head away from him. She didn’t want him speaking about the attack. She knew the particulars; he had told her the plan and the risks he would be taking, but she didn’t want to think about it. To think about it was to imagine every possible thing that could go wrong.

He put his arm around her waist again. She turned back to him and saw that he was smiling at her gently. It was the smile he always gave her when he realized it was pointless to argue with her and he was conceding defeat. Only this time he couldn’t concede. She couldn’t stay. It would cause a panic. Other women would then insist on it, and those with children who wanted to be near their husbands would then be torn. Leaving would suddenly look like abandonment and not a command they were forced to obey.

Rena felt safe right then. Despite the docking, despite the hormigas or Formics or whatever they were called now, she felt safe with his arm around her. She had wanted to argue with him and to object again to the whole stupid affair, but his smile had burned away the fight in her.

There was a violent jolt as the WU-HU ship touched down, and several people screamed. The lights flickered. Rena put a hand to her mouth, stifling her own cry. Then it was over. The ship steadied, and for a moment all was quiet. Muffled noises then sounded on the other side of the docking hatch as someone secured a seal and pressurized the airlock.

The light above the hatch turned from red to green, and two sharp knocks clanged on the hatch. Bahzím opened the hatch, and an Asian man floated through. His uniform suggested that he was the captain, and Concepción approached him and greeted him. Words were exchanged, though Rena couldn’t hear. Concepción then turned to everyone in the corridor and said, “Captain Doashang here has taken a great risk to dock with us, and we appreciate his kindness in taking you onto his ship until this matter is over. Please show him the same courtesy you have always shown me. Now let’s do this quickly. Single file, keep the line moving.”

The people closest to the hatch began to gather their things and move.

Rena suddenly felt panicked. It was happening. They were moving already. She hadn’t said good-bye. This was too quick. She turned to Segundo. He was looking down at her. He put his hands on her arms and smiled in that disarming way again, the way that blocked out everything and everyone around her, that look of his that could silence all the world for her.

People around them were moving into position, getting into line.

Rena ignored them. There were a million things she wanted to say to him—nothing that hadn’t been said already every day of their married lives, nothing that he didn’t already know. But still she wanted to say them. Yet “love” suddenly felt like such a small word. It wasn’t love that she felt for him. It was something much greater, something that she didn’t have a word for.

He slid something into her hand. She looked down. It was two letters sealed in envelopes. Her name was written on one. The other was for Victor. Her tears came instantly. No, she was not taking letters. A letter is what husbands write to their wives when they don’t think they’re coming back. And he was coming back. This wasn’t good-bye. She wouldn’t even entertain the thought. She shook her head, pushed the letters back into his hand, and closed his fingers around them.

“You can read me that when this is over,” she said. “And you can give that letter to our son someday.”