Edimar had shrugged off the attention, always turning down interview requests when they had come.
“You look worried,” said Victor.
“More like confused,” Edimar said. “It’s about 2030CT.”
Asteroid 2030CT was the ship’s current destination. It was a water-ice asteroid with a likely composition of iron, nickel, and precious metals. It wasn’t a particularly interesting rock. Just under two kilometers long. Slightly atypical orbit. No different than billions of others.
“What about it?” said Victor.
“Well, it’s not reflecting light properly anymore. It’s dark. Darker than it’s ever been on the cameras. And it happened within the last few weeks. The filters are fine. I checked them all. The rock is simply dimmer. Any idea why that might happen?”
Victor considered for a moment. “Your guess is as good as mine. Something obstructing our view, maybe? Space dust?”
“Maybe,” she said. “But the dimness has persisted. If it were small particles, you would think they would have dissipated by now.”
“Okay, well, we’re in the Kuiper Belt,” Victor said. “So this rock is probably covered in a layer of ice and frozen ammonia. Maybe it collided with something, and ice broke off. So more of the rock is exposed and less light is reflected.”
“I thought of that. But I would have seen another object, and a collision that strong would have knocked it off its orbit.”
“Maybe it’s a snowball,” said Victor.
Snowballs were frozen wads of gravel held together by ice. Unlike traditional asteroids, which were one solid hunk of rock, snowballs shattered into pieces the instant you started digging.
“Are you sure the asteroid is unoccupied?” said Victor. “Maybe there’s a family there digging at it and breaking it up. If it’s smaller, it would certainly reflect less light.”
“No one’s there. I’ve watched it for two months. There haven’t been any cinders in or out.”
A cinder was a heat signature, usually from a ship’s propulsion system. They were typically visible in the infrared spectrum, even from a considerable distance, especially out here where there was so much open space. Cinders were like big flashing signs that alerted everyone remotely close that you were in the neighborhood.
Victor shrugged. “I’m stumped, Mar. Have you talked to Arjuna?”
“I wanted to talk to you first, in case I’m missing something obvious.”
“You know the equipment, Mar. I don’t. If you trust it, if you checked the filters and everything seems to be working, I’d talk to Arjuna.”
She hesitated. “He won’t like that.”
“He needs to know. Arjuna may want to send a probe ahead or reconsider our approach as a precaution.”
She nodded. “Right. I’ll talk to him.”
She left. Victor returned to work, but the idea of an asteroid growing dimmer stuck with him. It didn’t make sense. Was the International Fleet testing a new weapon? Something powerful enough to chip away at an asteroid piece by piece? That seemed plausible. A lot of corporates tested new tech in the Kuiper Belt, far from the prying eyes of competitors. Perhaps the IF was doing the same.
When the scanner was done, Victor returned the processor to the oven.
He and Magoosa worked in the engine room well into their sleep shift. There were more boards to print and more components to borrow from elsewhere on the ship—and they had to alter the design of the OE slightly to fit what they had available—but finally, after nearly twenty hours, Victor finished soldering and turned the OE back on. It hummed quietly and woke Magoosa, who had fallen asleep nearby.
Magoosa patted Victor on the back. “You see? This is what the IF needs. Mechanics who can work miracles. Engineers who have the skills.”
Victor smiled. “Go to bed, Goos. It’s late. We’ve neglected all our other repairs. Tomorrow we’ve got a backlog waiting for us.”
But Magoosa’s words stayed with him long after the boy had left and all was quiet. Was Victor right not to enlist? Did he have a duty with the Fleet?
He pulled out his wrist pad and checked his messages, pleased to see an e-mail from Mazer. He read it, surprised to hear that Mazer was being court-martialed. We’re doomed, Victor thought. If the leadership of the IF are the type that would imprison their best asset, the human race didn’t have a prayer.
There was an attachment. Mazer had made notes on Victor’s newest design. Victor read through the notes and agreed with them all. The hook-and-release mechanism was too slow. He would need to rethink that. Or better yet, perhaps it was time to scrap this design and start anew.
He drew three more sketches of new designs, but by the end of the third he was fighting back sleep. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned.
“It’s a lot more comfortable in the barracks,” a voice said.
Victor looked up, startled. Imala was drifting up between two of the water storage tanks to his right, snaking her way into the center of the engine room.
“You’ve got the OE working,” she said. “Nice to know we won’t die. I never doubted you.” She drifted over to where he had stretched out and snuggled up next to him.
He put an arm around her and pulled her close. She was wearing soft fleece pajamas and smelled of fresh detergent. Her long, black Apache hair was braided into a ponytail that floated behind her. Victor gently lifted her chin and studied her face. Some people lost their beauty up close, where every minor imperfection became painfully obvious. But not Imala.
She had believed him about the invasion when everyone else thought him delusional. She had stood by him, fought with him, saved his life. And now she loved him. Even now, after several years together, he still couldn’t wrap his head around the notion. Him. Ordinary, plain-looking him. It left him feeling inadequate sometimes, even slightly guilty, as if he were committing some great injustice by asking her to be his wife, robbing her of the actual person she deserved.
Yet he had asked her nonetheless. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being happy otherwise. They had not yet set a date, but there wouldn’t be much to prepare when they did. They would probably wed in the cargo bay.
“You’re staring at me, Victor Delgado.”
“Admiring.”
“It’s still staring.”
She took his wrist pad and flipped through the sketches. “What’s this?”
“Sketches for Mazer. Some good ideas, some bad ideas. Mostly bad ideas.”
“They all look brilliant to me.”
“You’re biased.”
“How is Mazer?”
“He’s being court-martialed.”
She looked at him, startled. “Why?”
Victor shrugged. “Because they’re more worried about saving their careers than the human race. Because they feel threatened by people smarter than themselves. Because they despise those who have talents they don’t also possess. Take your pick.”
Imala sighed in exasperation. “Why is it that the people who should be in authority are usually the people who don’t want it, while the people who hold authority are usually the two-faced schemers who’ve stepped on people’s backs to get it?”
Victor was quiet a moment. “Did we make the right decision, Imala? Coming out here to reunite with my family?”
She broke away from him and studied his face. “Why do you say that? You love your family.”
“Yes, but this isn’t really my family anymore. Or at least it’s not the family I left before the war.”
“We knew that when we came, Vico. When Arjuna took in your mother and your aunts and all their children, this became a new family. It’s not the one you grew up with, but it’s a family all the same. They accepted us on sight even though the ship was already full, they’ve treated me like one of their own. If anyone should feel like an outsider here it’s me. I’m not related to anyone.”
“Not yet,” Victor said with a smile.
“Not yet,” she agreed.
Victor’s smile waned. �
�I know you’re right. But is this where we should be?”
“Why are you even asking this?” she said. “Is this about Copernicus? Vico, you’re the one who said we weren’t going to get into this war, that it was someone else’s turn to fight this time.”
“I know I said that. And I still believe that. But I look at Mazer and I think about the IF and all the bureaucracy and all the obstacles they’re imposing on us, even before the Formics get here, and I think, how can I just float here and let all of that happen?”
“You can’t fight the bureaucracy, Vico. I tried fighting it at the Lunar Trade Department, and it got me nowhere. The IF is a thousand times bigger and a thousand times more powerful, with all of the resources of the world at its disposal. That’s not a fight you can win.”
“I’m not suggesting that I take on the International Fleet, Imala. I’m merely asking the question: Are we doing the most good here? You should have heard Goos today. He’s dead set on enlisting. I told him to erase the idea from his mind and to leave the fighting to the soldiers, but I felt like a hypocrite saying so, as if I were trying to convince myself.”
“Goos is fourteen,” said Imala. “He can’t enlist anyway.”
Victor waved a hand. “Yes, obviously. That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“The point is, maybe he’s right. The IF needs mechanics as much as it needs pilots and soldiers and doctors.”
“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?
The Swarm: The Second Formic War Page 8
