The Swarm (11 page)

“Your family needs a mechanic, Vico. Who would have fixed the OE if you hadn't been here? Goos? No one on this ship can do what you do.”

“We don't have any more mechanics because they all enlisted with the other crewmen who've already signed up,” said Victor. “Fifteen men from this crew, Imala. Do you know how I felt when they left? Did you see the look of pride in Arjuna's eyes?”

She made a face. “Is that what this is about? Earning Arjuna's respect? Having him feel
proud
of you?”

“Of course not,” said Victor. “But when I think of Arjuna, I think of your father, and I imagine him—”

“My father?” said Imala, recoiling at the word. “What does he have to do with this?”

“He doesn't approve of me, Imala. He thinks I'm some ignorant rockhead who's stolen his daughter away from the comforts and safety of Earth. Me being here on this ship and not joining up is just one more reason in his mind why I'm not good enough for you. He probably thinks I'm a coward.”

She laughed. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting, and it rather annoyed him. He could feel his face getting hot.

“Why is that funny?” he said.

“Because you're so bullheaded sometimes,” she said. “We've talked about this. There's no way my father thinks you're a coward. You took on the whole Formic army, you went into the belly of the beast, right to the heart of the scout ship. Alone. Without any weapons. But even if you hadn't done any of that, it wouldn't matter one iota anyway because I don't care what my father thinks.”

“Yes, well I do,” said Victor.

“And you think enlisting is going to change his opinion of you?” said Imala. “You're not Apache, Vico. That's the issue. That's what my father cares about, me staying in the tribe, continuing the line, the traditions, the culture, having little Apache grandchildren look to him as chief. You can't alter your DNA and meet that expectation, so get over it. You are what you are.”

“Fine. But I don't like that you have to choose between me and your family.”

“That's what people do when they get married, Vico. They fly the coop. They leave their parents. My parents will always love me. That isn't going to change, even with you at my side. My father doesn't
know
you. With time he will, he'll see in you what I see, and he'll realize why I love you.

“But that's not what this is about,” said Imala. “Or at least not completely. This is about you. You're afraid.”

“Afraid?” said Victor. “Of what?”

“That we'll lose the war,” said Imala, “that the Formics will win, that everything we did before to keep the world safe will be for naught and you'll have done nothing to prevent it. You felt the same way last time and it nagged at you and needled you and kept you awake at night until you were so uneasy that you threw yourself right into the middle of it. And I stood with you, even when it seemed ridiculous and insane and the most unsafe course of action possible. I went along and I supported you.”

“You didn't just go along, Imala. You did as much as anyone else. We would have lost if not for you. Mazer says so, and he's right.”

She was quiet a moment and then she shrugged. “All right. Then I'll enlist.”

Victor blinked. For a moment he didn't know what to say. “You can't be serious.”

“Why not? You said it yourself. The IF needs help in all fields. I'm sure that includes finance?”

“Finance?”

“Auditing, tracking, monitoring, what I did at the Lunar Trade Department before the war. The IF is currently moving more resources and cash into the Belt to shipbuilders than we've ever seen in the history of manufacturing. That's a massive logistical and financial undertaking. They need an army of people to manage that. The Fleet would probably take me in a hot second.”

Victor stared at her. “Please tell me you're joking.”

“You're needed here, Vico. You can't leave your family. I on the other hand am little more than a warm body here. Don't get me wrong, I love your family, but any of the crew can do what I do.”

“That's not true,” said Victor. “You're the one who's irreplaceable. You're the best negotiator on the ship. You've saved us tens of thousands of credits in supplies. You know how to work the markets. You built the economic model that will keep us afloat. You're an expert on tariffs and taxes and on building our credit. No one else on this ship knows how to do any of that.”

“The model is built,” said Imala. “It's all set up and will run itself. The contracts are in place. There's not much for me to do anymore. Sure I can bake bread with Ubax in the kitchen, but with the IF I could make a real contribution.”

She was serious. He could see it in her expression. The idea had taken root in her mind, and she was already envisioning it playing out. He wouldn't shake her.

“You can't enlist, Imala. You'd be in danger. They'd put you in harm's way.”

“Not necessarily. Auditing and finance is behind the scenes.”

“Not if they put you on the supply lines,” said Victor, “which is where you'd be most needed and useful. That means you'd be stationed on a ship or depot that would be a primary target.”

“You're assuming Formics even know what a supply line is,” said Imala, “or that they can recognize its military significance and identify which ships of ours constitute supply ships. You're the one who would be in harm's way if you enlisted. Mechanics would be needed on the front lines, right in the heat of battle as ships are damaged. If I enlist, we can still make a contribution, but in a way that will minimize risk.”

We
can make a contribution, she had said. We. He understood. She was offering to enlist so that he would feel like he was helping, giving of herself as a way of keeping him involved.

“No, Imala. You're not doing this. I'm not letting my wife go to war simply to appease the guilt I feel for not doing it myself.”

She raised a finger. “First of all, I'm not your wife yet. Second, no one dictates my life but me, at least not until we're married, at which point we plot our path together. Third, I'm not being impulsive here. Losing Copernicus has bothered me, too. Ever since it happened, I've had the same nagging sense of unease that you've felt. The only difference is, I can do something about it, and you can't.”

He couldn't believe they were having this conversation. “Just like that?” he said. “You've decided to pick up and leave? How can you be so casual about this?”

“I'm not being casual,” said Imala. “I'm being sensible and talking plainly. You brought it up, and the more we discuss it, the more right it feels, only not as you suggested. I wouldn't leave immediately. I can't. I'd have to find passage to a recruiting station once we reach a depot. We'll still get married obviously. But we'll do it after.”

She sounded so final, so decided. How had this happened? His future had flipped on its head in an instant. And it was entirely his fault.

“I should have married you a year ago,” he said. She started to interrupt, but he pushed on. “No, I should have. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I had. But I couldn't go through with it. I was too…”

“Uncertain?”

“Embarrassed.”

She scoffed. “Of what?”

“Of me, Imala. Of this.” He gestured at the room again. “I have nothing to offer you.”

“What do you think I want?” she said. “My own luxury cruiser? My own crew? That's not why I came here, Vico.”

“I know. But let's face it, if you marry me, you're marrying down.” She started to object, but he held up a hand. “I'm not fishing for validation, Imala. I'm simply stating the truth. You gave up everything to come here—a career, your family, a life on Luna. And for what? To live in a cage in the Kuiper Belt? No wonder you want to enlist. This place has to be suffocating.”

She looked offended. “Is that what you think? That I'm seizing an opportunity to run away?”

“Are you?” The words came out of him before he had even considered them, and he regretted them immediately.

She looked hurt.

“I didn't mean that,” he said. He wanted to unsay the words, unsay everything, start the conversation from the beginning and take it in an entirely different direction. How had he crashed this so badly?

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” she said finally.

“I don't,” he said. And it was true. He knew Imala loved him.

And yet why was she so willing to go? Why had she taken to the idea so quickly? Did she want an out and not even fully realize it herself? Was her subconscious desire to get out of the relationship jumping at the opportunity? He wanted to discuss it further, but she was already moving for the exit.

“You're leaving?” he said.

“I'm tired, Vico.”

He thought she would say more, but she didn't. She slid past the water tanks and disappeared.

He wanted to rush after her and apologize. She had caught him off guard. Her response had surprised him. Let's discuss this.

Yet he knew further conversations wouldn't change her. They would discuss it of course, but this new direction was locked in her mind now. It wasn't obstinacy on her part; it was recognizing a right course of action and pursuing it without deviation, putting her own emotions aside for what she had determined was a greater good. It was one of the reasons why he loved her. She was fearless, decisive, strong.

He didn't move. The bigger part of him, the wounded part, kept him rooted right where he was. She was leaving him. She claimed they would still marry, but that would only happen if we won the war and if she still loved him when it was over. Both seemed unlikely. Even if we did win, which was a high improbability, war would change her, maybe change them both.

Five minutes ago, he had held her, their future clearly defined. Now there was a wedge pounded deeply between them. No, not a wedge, a chasm, a vast empty space of his own making.

He wouldn't try to stop her, he realized. If this was what she felt compelled to do, and if he truly loved her, he should support her, as reckless and dangerous as it seemed. Because she was right. She
had
stood by him. When no one else would give his ideas any consideration, she had helped make them a reality. How could he do any less for her?

The hatch squeaked as it opened. Victor couldn't see it from where he was positioned, but he assumed that Imala had returned.

“Vico? You in there?”

Not Imala's voice. Edimar's.

“Up beside the oxygen extractor, Edimar.”

He heard her enter and move through the maze of machines until she appeared.

“What are you doing up?” he asked.

“You weren't in the barracks, so I thought you might still be here. I know why the asteroid is reflecting less light. Arjuna gave me permission to send one of our probes ahead.”

She shoved her wrist pad into his hands. There was a photo onscreen, taken from the probe. At first Victor didn't realize what he was looking it. There was a large spherical object in open space, built with thin filaments in a crisscross pattern, with thin membranes between each threadlike fiber. Like a balloon keeping its shape with a spherical skeleton of string.

“What is this?” he asked.

“That's 2030CT,” Edimar said. “There's a shell or a balloon or some kind of thin structure built around the entire asteroid. And I think it's filled with air. I think it's oxygenated.”

Victor stared. “I don't get it. Is this some secret IF outpost?”

“No, look at it from the other side.” She swiped a finger across the screen. The second photo looked identical, except now there was something protruding from the center of the shell, as if the shell had been built around it. A large, rectangular, metal structure, intricately constructed, with a round thruster on the back.

“That's a propulsion system,” Victor said.

“And not one built by the IF, either,” Edimar said. “That's alien tech, Vico. Formics are at that rock.”

 

CHAPTER 5

Lem

Critics of the Fleet argued that since Copernicus was destroyed without warning by a close-range attack, the IF never had accurate observations of the enemy to begin with. That sentiment quickly gained popularity, and confidence in the International Fleet began to decline. Sensing a shift in public opinion, the International Fleet attempted to reassert its position of strength by submitting a nine-hundred-page document to the Hegemony entitled
Logistical Demands of a Space-Based Defense,
which requested additional troops, shipbuilders, funds, and equipment. An increase in Hegemony taxes followed, leading to an overall economic decline. In many nations whose economies were already marginal—mainly in South Asia, Southeast Europe, and sub-Saharan Africa—economic pressures led to food rationing, rioting, and revolutionary guerrilla activity.

The scarcity of goods and the diminished federal budgets led ten additional nations to sign the Population Contract by the end of the year, leaving only six noncompliant nations worldwide, and international outrage at their noncompliance seemed to be heading toward war. Everyone knew that it was insane to make war among humans while the enemy approached; but it was also unbearable to the human instinct for fairness that some nations be allowed to continue to grow their populations, using resources needed by nations that were complying with the two-child rule.

—Demosthenes,
A History of the Formic Wars,
Vol. 3

Beneath the surface of Luna, in the corporate headquarters of Juke Limited, Lem Jukes sat before his executive team, trying hard to keep his composure. “Let me stop you right there, Serge,” Lem said, speaking loud enough so that his voice carried to the back of the room, where a man in his mid-thirties was giving a presentation. Serge stopped speaking midsentence and froze, his arm outstretched, pointing at a chart of data in the holofield.