The Swarm (55 page)

“I've cut sugar from my diet.”

“Ah, so you're into self-torture now,” said Lem. “Me too. I've picked up flogging. The scars get itchy, but the flesh-tearing is fun.” He paused. “Come on, you're not even smiling.”

“Because your jokes aren't funny.”

“Honest friends are the truest sort. Here. I've made you a drink. It will help you sleep.”

“No. But thank you.”

“It's a long flight, Benyawe. And you look frazzled. I doubt you've slept in days. You might as well get some rest now, while we can get it.”

They were headed toward the Rings. Benyawe and Wila had worked for over a month now on a new version of the NanoCloud, and they were finally ready for a field test.

“Never tell a woman she looks frazzled,” said Benyawe.

“Your eyes are bloodshot, hairs are out of place, you look barely conscious. What would you call that?”

“Wearied,” said Benyawe, trying to brush her hair with her hand.

He offered her the sealed cup. “Here. Just hold this. In case you change your mind.”

Benyawe hesitated, then took the cup. She stared at it for a moment. “What if it doesn't work?” she asked. “The NanoCloud, I mean. We've modified it completely. It's nothing like what you saw last time. Its entire function is different.”

“You're not allowed to doubt,” said Lem. “That's my job. I'm the skeptic. You're playing the part of the wise and seasoned optimist.”

“Never call a woman seasoned either. That's the same as calling her old.”

“You're in your sixties, Benyawe. You're stunning for a woman in her sixties, but you're seasoned. Get over it. And relax, this new NanoCloud is going to work.”

“You made sure it was loaded?”

“I checked the cargo hold myself. We've got five giant crates filled with millions of inactive nanobots. As long as they don't come alive and disassemble the crates and the shuttle, we should be fine. That was a joke, by the way. They won't come alive, will they?”

“We're fine,” said Benyawe.

“That's the spirit. You sound like the seasoned optimist already. Though you may want to work on your delivery. I'm not feeling your performance.”

“Everything is riding on this, Lem. It's not like we have a lot of time here.”

It was true. The two divisions of the Fleet had already left for the Formic warships above and below the ecliptic. The Fleet ships hadn't gone very far, of course. They were massive and slow to accelerate. Smaller, faster, cargo-carrying quickships loaded with supplies could still catch up with them and deliver those supplies, if needed. But that window of opportunity was closing fast. Soon the Fleet ships would be too fast to catch.

“We've armed the Fleet with the original NanoCloud,” said Lem. “They have the gravity disruptors from Gungsu. It's not like we've left them defenseless. If we can get them something better, great. If not, they still have a pretty good chance. But if it will make you feel any better, we can pretend that I'm the doubter, and you're trying to reassure me. Walk me through it.”

“I did. You got a glazed look in your eyes last time.”

“It was two in the morning. That doesn't count. Come on. I haven't taken my sedative yet. Try again. If I start to fall asleep, break into song or do jazz hands.”

“All right,” she said.

Lem immediately threw his head back into the headrest and snored loudly. He opened one eye a moment later and peeked at her. “Finally. A smile from the iron-hearted Noloa Benyawe. So you're not soulless after all.”

“You're trying to put me in a good mood, Lem. It isn't working. It's only annoying.”

“And yet you're still smiling. Come on. NanoCloud 2.0. Let's hear it. I'll punch holes in it if I can.”

“Actually it's more like NanoCloud version 7.0. But that's irrelevant. Picture in your mind a rope. A big thick climbing rope.”

“A rope. Thick. Got it.” He threw his head back and started snoring again.

“Are we playing a game or can we act like adults?”

“Sorry. I couldn't resist. I'm listening. This is important. Go on.”

She glared for a moment then continued. “This thick rope. It's woven with twine, which is woven of thread, which is woven of tiny fibers, which is woven of nanofibers, which is woven of molecules. So everything is woven on top of each other. It's weave, weave, weave, weave. Over and over and over again. And the more woven it is, the stronger it is. Hundreds of woven layers, back and forth, in and out.”

“Makes sense,” said Lem.

“Wila believes that all Formic-made structures are built that way. Formic microcreatures weave. That's their pattern. At the molecular level, inside the guts of these microcreatures, they take the trace minerals and elements mined from the rock, and they weave these molecular structures together, building microscopic threads like DNA. Consider what Victor found on that asteroid. Some of those minerals are essential elements for DNA molecules. I say iron, and you think building material for colossal ships, right? Or zinc, or magnesium. But these are essential elements of DNA as well. It's possible that these microcreatures aren't using the iron like we would, on a macro scale. Maybe they're building proteinlike structures on a micro scale.”

“All right.”

“And if that's true,” said Benyawe, “then the solution to this impenetrable Formic hull is not a big macro weapon that tries to punch through, like the gravity disruptor. The solution is a microweapon like an enzyme, a catalyst that undoes what the microcreatures have built. A nanobot weapon that can go in there at the rate of millions of transactions per second and unwind what the microcreatures have built. So it doesn't break the rope, it unwinds it. First it unwinds the twine, then the thread, then the fibers, then the molecules. And on and on. It just follows the thread, unwinding as it goes. A chemical reaction. Destructive metabolism.”

“So instead of programming the nanobots to sneak into the ship and open the door or hatch or whatever from the inside, we're programming the nanobots to simply find the hull and make it magically disappear,” Lem said.

“It's not magic,” said Benyawe. “It's chemistry. Your body does the same thing every time you swallow a piece of red velvet cake. It breaks down the sugars and carbohydrates. The problem is, we don't know the chemical structure of the hull exactly. The hulls were built near the Formic planet. We have no way of knowing what elements and minerals they used when they wove the structure together. So we're guessing. And we're basing that guess on the metals and minerals Victor found on the asteroid. We're essentially saying, the Formics clearly value these minerals. Is it conceivable that they used the same minerals to build their hulls? Could it be possible that they choose to harvest these specific elements and minerals because this is what they use on their home world?”

“That's not too big of a leap,” said Lem.

“It's a huge leap,” said Benyawe. “It's a gargantuan leap.”

“We're doing the best we can with the information we have,” said Lem.

“Which isn't much,” said Benyawe. “But we suspect that one of the main elements is silicon. The Formics used it to build the cocoon shell, maybe they also use it to weave their hulls. So the NanoCloud has been designed to act like an enzyme and find and remove silicon. We've essentially turned each nanobot into a motor protein that functions like a helicase, except instead of separating nucleic acid strands by breaking hydrogen bonds, we're breaking silicon bonds. Unwinding and unwinding, again and again and again.”

“Are my eyes glazed over yet?” said Lem. “You had me at red velvet cake, but you lost me at hydrogen-bonding mumbo jumbo.”

“Should I break into song?”

“You should drink your sedative and close your eyes and stop worrying.”

“We're guessing, Lem. I worry because this tech is a shot in the dark.”

“I trust your guesses more than anyone's facts. Do you think Wila is right?”

Benyawe hesitated. “I think she
could
be right.”

“That's good enough for me.” He raised his cup to her. “To a good night's sleep, with dreams free of Formics and plenty of cake.”

“I'll drink to that.”

They tapped cups and drank.

*   *   *

Lem's shuttle approached the Formic scout ship a day and a half later. The massive red teardrop-shaped ship looked like a child's discarded top, with three giant white rings slowly spinning around it. Lem's shuttle approached the ship and made its way toward the gaping hole on the far side. The hole had been made by a massive burst of gamma radiation during the First Formic War. Lem remembered the moment vividly. “If we could make our own gamma-radiation weapon, this would be so much easier,” he said. He and Benyawe were floating at two of the shuttle's portholes, watching the Formic ship as they approached.

“Gamma radiation would fry our electronics,” said Benyawe. “Plus we have nothing to store it in, or any way to fire it.”

“That's what Dublin told me,” said Lem, “but a man can dream.”

Benyawe craned her neck to see more of the hull. The ship was so close, it consumed their view. “It's so big.”

“I had forgotten you haven't been here before,” said Lem. “I want to vomit whenever I look at the thing.”

The shuttle circled the ship until the massive hole came into view, with its jagged edges and uninviting darkness inside. The pilot flipped on the searchlights and carefully navigated the shuttle through the tight space. The interior of the Formic ship had not been constructed with the hull material, and the human crews had had no trouble disassembling most of the interior walls. Gutted and stripped of its various decks and passageways, the ship was little more than a shell at this point. The inner wall of a giant metal teardrop. Lem felt as if he were a spelunker drifting into a massive underground cavern as tall as a skyscraper and wide as a stadium.

“Much of this space is where the original garden was housed,” said Lem. “We cleared out the surrounding area and made the space even bigger to make plenty of room for the habitat.”

He pointed to a man-made structure that the company had built. It was a single-story facility with opaque glass walls. Another shuttle was docked on its roof.

The pilot brought Lem's shuttle down beside it, and soon Lem was opening the hatch in the floor and pulling himself down into the habitat. Dr. Dublin and a few other scientists were anchored to the floor inside the airlock, waiting to receive him. Wila was beside Dublin, her head shaven, her expression kindly, dressed in a tight white jumpsuit covered with a series of white robes and a pair of moccasins. Lem had seen pictures, but he thought her even more striking in person.

“Welcome to the Garden,” said Dr. Dublin. “Lem, I'd like to present Wila Saowaluk.”

Wila bowed. “It is an honor, Mr. Jukes.”

“The honor is mine,” said Lem. “But Mr. Jukes is my father, the Hegemon. I'm Lem.”

“Of course,” she said, bowing again.

Lem felt a tug of disappointment. The idea of religion had always struck him as somewhat silly, and he failed to see how any self-respecting scientist could ever call herself a theist. And yet here was a believer. And a very devout one at that. Someone who seemed perfectly content with one foot in science and another one in … in what exactly? Did Buddhists believe in a heaven? No, they believed in a form of rebirth. Your next life was determined by how well you performed in this one. Which means I'd probably be a dung beetle next, thought Lem.

Benyawe drifted through the hatch. Wila welcomed her with an embrace. More introductions followed. There were other chemists and physicists and metallurgists and xenobiologists present. Fifteen in all. Lem had seen their names and photos before, but he had never met any of them in person.

“It will take a few minutes for the technicians to unload the cargo and prepare the sling for the test,” said Dublin. “I suggest we retire to the main conference room where we have some refreshments waiting.”

The conference room was all glass, including the ceiling, affording them a view of the interior of the Garden. A large circular light, like a giant sun, shined down from the inner wall high above them, bathing the entire space in a warm brilliant light. Before the war, this space had been teeming with plants and small alien woodland creatures. Now it was nothing but ugly metal, completely devoid of life. Lem watched as Wila went alone to the far side of the room and faced outward, as if taking in some beautiful vista. Several of the scientists tried to strike up a conversation with Lem as he made himself two drinks, but he politely excused himself and joined Wila at the glass.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, offering her a juice. “Nothing like a breathtaking vista of metal walls.”

She smiled and accepted the drink. “There is not much to see now, I agree. But I cannot help but imagine the giant alien trees that once stood here. Their limbs grew straight out and upward, their vines and branches slowly growing for decades across this room until they reached and entwined with vines growing from the opposite side, creating a dense, green canopy like a living web of leaves. I would very much have liked to have seen that.”

“If I had not seen the vids Victor took,” said Lem, “I don't think I could have imagined it. I'm so used to a forest with a horizon line. It would be difficult to imagine this one, with everything rooted to the inside of a giant ball growing inward. It boggles the mind that something of that scale could exist.”

“It was a beautiful example of different species coexisting,” Wila said. “Everything here worked harmoniously together. There was no enmity, no hatred, no greed. There was suffering, yes, for there is always a measure of that in death, but there was compassion also, in how the trees linked and embraced one other, in how branches gave their fruit, in how the dead were placed at the base of trees to act as fertilizer.”