“Something wrong?” Mazer asked.
“Everything. Vaganov is trying to sandbag the entire operation.”
They hustled to Zembassi’s office and found Vaganov and Zembassi giving each other the silent treatment. The tension in the room was palpable. Zembassi looked furious. Vaganov smiled pleasantly.
“You asked to see me, sir?” Mazer said.
“We have a problem, Captain,” said Zembassi. “Rear Admiral Vaganov here has taken it upon himself to change our orders and turn this mission into a bureaucratic mess.”
“You’re overreacting, Fareed,” said Vaganov. “I merely pointed out to a few colleagues that your team had failed to consider a few critical details.”
“What exactly did we forget, sir?” asked Mazer.
Vaganov winced, as if he were embarrassed for Mazer for even asking. “If you had been more thorough in planning this mission, Mazer, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
“Stop toying with him and get to the damn point,” said Zembassi.
“The creatures, Mazer,” said Vaganov. “The creatures are the clues. The mining slugs, the grubs, the bugs, all of the little alien creepy-crawly things inside that rock. They will tell us more about the Formics’ intentions than an empty hole in a rock ever would, which is all your cadets are likely to find if you blow the asteroid. These creatures have DNA, Mazer—or whatever it is their protein structure is composed of. And a study of their DNA might give us the definitive answers we seek. The prevailing belief on Earth is that they were engineered by the Hive Queen herself. If we can capture them and dissect them and do whatever it is that scientists do, we might legitimately learn what the Hive Queen has in mind. At the very least, we’ll learn more about how she communicates with creatures mind to mind. Perhaps that will give us the information we need to cut off that communication line.”
“We considered what you’re proposing, sir,” said Mazer. “But there is an obvious danger to the idea. The atmosphere—”
“—is composed of volatile gas,” interrupted Vaganov. “Yes, yes. But that doesn’t change the fact that by blowing up the asteroid, you might be incinerating critical intelligence. What if there is a computer at the heart of that asteroid with all of their sensitive information? Are we going to blow it up without even trying to seize it?”
“The Formics don’t use computers, sir,” said Mazer.
“Not that we know of,” said Vaganov. “Just because we haven’t seen one doesn’t mean they don’t exist. And even if there is no computer, there could be something else of military value. Some device, some weapon, something we can use against them. Are we going to simply destroy it without checking first?”
“We considered this,” said Mazer. “We debated it at length. But in the end, sending marines and cadets into an area that is essentially a massive bomb set to explode seemed like a bad idea for multiple reasons. First, there is the possibility that a marine will create a spark and detonate the atmosphere.”
“Victor Delgado didn’t,” said Vaganov.
“Victor Delgado was extremely lucky,” said Mazer. “With more marines in that environment, the chances of a spark increase dramatically.”
“We send our soldiers into dangerous places,” said Vaganov. “That’s what we do for a living. We take risks.”
“There are other reasons as well,” said Mazer. “If the Formics do indeed have a hive mind, then it’s likely that the Hive Queen knows that Victor Delgado infiltrated one of her asteroids and stole a miniship. So she knows her asteroids are vulnerable. And if there is something of value inside Castalia, as you suggest, then the Hive Queen will do anything to keep us from acquiring it, including blowing up the asteroid herself. Remember, she cares little for her individual workers. She would willingly sacrifice a few to prevent humans from acquiring whatever would give us an advantage. All she would have to do is send a mental command to any of the Formics at Castalia to create a spark. The Formics would obey her without hesitation.”
“If that’s true,” said Vaganov, “then why didn’t the Hive Queen detonate the atmosphere and kill Victor?”
“She probably thought her Formics could handle one intruder,” said Mazer. “And when Victor lost his helmet, she knew he couldn’t escape. I doubt she’ll make the same mistake twice. Now that she knows we have an interest in her equipment and operations, she’ll be especially cautious.”
“This is all speculation,” said Vaganov. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. Your orders have changed. You are not to blow up the asteroid. You are to recover samples of the creatures, and then you are to send in the cadets to infiltrate the tunnels and reconnoiter.”
Mazer blinked. “Sir, with all due respect, sending the cadets into a volatile atmosphere is a bad idea.”
“You’ve been training these cadets for tunnel warfare for months,” said Vaganov. “What did you think we were going to do with them?”
“They can move through tunnels, yes,” said Mazer. “But it would be much safer to send them in once the atmosphere is destroyed and the area is secure.”
“Your personal attachment to Bingwen is clouding your judgment, Mazer. We have much to gain from what I’m proposing. I spoke with Rear Admiral Cormack and Admiral Denashi, who made my case to the Polemarch, who made my case to the Hegemon. This is a done deal.”
“In other words,” said Zembassi, “he used the ansible on this ship to send his own private messages. He went behind my back and usurped my authority and created a situation that endangers my men.”
“I did what you should have done, Fareed,” said Vaganov. “I thought about the big picture here.”
Mazer looked to Zembassi. “The Hegemon agreed to this?”
“Vaganov got an army of people involved. Xenobiologists, contacts at CentCom. He made them all believe that there might be a valuable acquisition to be made here. Considering that I had already told the Polemarch and the Strategos that this asteroid might be special based on Bingwen’s logic, it wasn’t a difficult argument for Vaganov to make.”
“I am not the villain here,” said Vaganov. “I am merely correcting a strategic error on your part.”
“You’re advancing your own career is what you’re doing,” said Zembassi.
“You’re mistaken,” said Vaganov. “I am taking a huge risk here. If something were to happen to your men in an explosion, the blame will fall upon me.”
Mazer almost laughed out loud at that. Of course Vaganov wouldn’t take the blame. Vaganov would do everything in his power to avoid that. He’d pass the blame to Mazer. Or to Colonel Li. Or to the marines conducting the op. He’d run for the hills and point an accusatory finger at everyone else. That’s how people like Vaganov survived. And if we do find something, thought Mazer, which we expected to anyway, Vaganov will push everyone else aside and take every ounce of credit.
But Mazer kept his face impassive and simply said, “And what will we say to the world if Bingwen and the cadets are killed? How will we justify putting children in such an egregiously dangerous combat situation?”
“The Hegemon was very clear about that,” said Vaganov. “As far as the world is concerned, this cadet program does not exist. There is no program. If there are casualties, there is to be no record of them whatsoever.”
“So we’ll send them into harm’s way and then we’ll pretend they didn’t exist?” said Mazer. “How noble of us. What honor.”
Vaganov’s face darkened. “The cadets are the only people small enough to navigate those tunnels. We don’t have a choice. Or perhaps you would like the Formics to slaughter that wife of yours once they win this war.”
It took all of Mazer’s self-control not to bury his fist in the man’s face at that moment.
“You’re out of line, Vaganov,” said Zembassi.
“I am the only man speaking sense here,” said Vaganov. “These cadets are orphans. They’re collateral damage of the first war. They have no connections. Do you think that’s a coincidence? Why do you think they were
chosen for this program? Besides, what are you worried about? Mazer trained these cadets. If he trained them correctly, they’ll be fine.” He moved for the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you have a mission to plan. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”
Vaganov gave a little bow and then exited.
“I propose we send that bastard into Castalia and then we detonate the whole thing,” said Zembassi.
Li was standing off to the side. He had stayed quiet for the whole conversation, but he spoke up now. “Mazer has trained the cadets well. They’ll execute whatever mission we give them.”
“We can’t send anyone in there unless they’re doubly protected,” said Mazer. “Especially the cadets.”
“You all have exosuits,” said Li. “Victor designed them to take the heat.”
“Yes,” said Mazer, “but it’s not like we have a lot of definitive data on whether the suits are strong enough to protect us. If you fill a balloon with hydrogen and oxygen and blow it up, the ignition temperature is around 580°C. Which is hot. Steel can go soft at 538°C. And there’s a lot more air inside that cocoon than inside a balloon. It will get a lot hotter as the air molecules strike one another and push outward at the moment of detonation.”
“The suit is a nickel-chromium alloy,” said Li. “What are their melting points?”
“Far higher,” said Mazer. “Nickel is nearly 1,500°C. Chromium is over 1,900°C. So more than three times that of steel. Victor’s alloy is probably even stronger. But even so, it might get very hot inside the suit.”
“Maybe not,” said Zembassi. “The explosion would be a flash, not a continuous application of heat. It would disappear instantly in the vacuum of space. I worry more about the amount of energy released. You would be hit with the rapidly expanding gas and debris of the explosion.”
“We need additional shielding,” said Mazer. “Just to be safe. My suggestion: We gather all the nanoshields on board and we put them all together to create a single bubble around a marine or a cadet. Or better yet, we make a smaller bubble with multiple layers of nanoshield. So one nanoshield atop the other. As many as we can make.”
“We only have so many shields,” said Li.
“You want a small team anyway,” said Mazer. “Should the Formics detonate the cocoon while we’re inside it, the blast would likely blow the marines away from the asteroid in multiple directions. Those marines would have to be recovered by the ship’s small landing craft before the marines disappear into oblivion. The more marines you have to recover, the more likely you are to lose some. I’d suggest sending in no more than three. Me, Kaufman, and Rimas. I worked with them both on WAMRED. We’ve run hundreds of field tests together. We’re a very good team. We’ll go in, draw out the Formics, kill them, secure the area, and then bring in a cadet to check the tunnels and gather samples of the worms.”
“A cadet?” said Zembassi. “As in just one?”
“We minimize the risk of casualties and the risk of detonation,” said Mazer. “The more cadets we send in there, the higher the risk of someone creating a spark.”
“It should be Bingwen,” said Li.
“I was going to suggest Chati,” said Mazer. “He’s smaller than Bingwen.”
“Bingwen is a better soldier,” said Li, “and you know it. He has more combat experience from the first war than most men on this ship.”
“I agree,” said Zembassi. “No one thinks faster. And no one is better trained. Besides, he’s only slightly bigger than Chati. He’ll navigate the tunnels as well as any of them. I know you and Bingwen are close, Mazer. But he’s our man. And that’s an order.”
He’s not a man, Mazer wanted to say. He’s a boy.
But he knew they were right. If anyone could do this safely, it was Bingwen.
“You said the marines would be slung away from the ship if there’s an explosion,” said Li. “So why not attach each of you to a long tether? That way you wouldn’t have to be recovered.”
“A blast would inflict a tremendous amount of G-forces on our bodies,” said Mazer. “If we were attached to a tether, we would stop instantly once the line grew taut. The sudden force of that stop might kill us. Bones might puncture critical organs. A gradual deceleration would be preferable. So the landing craft reaches us, grabs us, slows us down. That is, assuming we survive the explosion.”
“I like the idea of using the nanoshields to create a protective bubble,” said Zembassi.
“Two bubbles,” said Mazer. “One inside the other for additional protection. We’d need the engineers to reprogram the nanobots to do that.”
“Can the bots take that level of abuse if there’s an explosion?” said Li. “They’re microscopic. Wouldn’t they be incinerated?”
“Let’s ask the engineers,” said Mazer. “We’ll let them do the math.”
* * *
Two days later they were gathered in the cargo bay ready to launch. Mazer, Kaufman, Rimas, and Bingwen were all in their exosuits. They had not yet donned their helmets, and they quickly reviewed the mission objectives one last time. Mazer created a holo of the asteroid in the air with his wrist pad.
“Castalia is shaped like a peanut,” said Mazer. “Like two small asteroids smooshed together. We’re going in here, near where the two bulbous parts meet. The Formic miniships have a crew of five. So we kill five Formics, collect some slugs, then bring in Bingwen once the area is secure.”
“Secure except for that fact that it could explode at any moment,” said Rimas.
“Except for that,” said Mazer.
Three small landing crafts were beside them, ready to go, each with an expert pilot at the controls.
“If any one of us is thrown out into space,” said Mazer, “the landing crafts will recover us.”
“They better,” said Kaufman. “We’re having ravioli in the mess hall tonight. I don’t want to miss that.”
They grabbed their gear and began loading it into the first landing craft.
Vaganov arrived just before they were ready to launch. He approached Mazer and spoke softly. “Stay safe, Mazer. I’ll be all broken up inside if something were to happen to you.” Vaganov smiled then launched away.
Mazer watched him go, saying nothing. Then he secured his helmet, ran a quick suit check, and climbed into the landing craft next to Bingwen.
The flight to Castalia was a short one. The pilot carrying the marines brought the landing craft within fifty meters of the cocoon. Mazer opened the airlock and let himself out. A giant spool of rope was mounted on the landing craft’s hull. Mazer took the end of the rope in one hand and unzipped the pack on his chest. The nanobots flew out of the pack and encircled him in two bubbles, forming a hazy, opaque cloud of protection.
Mazer launched to the cocoon. The nanoshields moved with him. The reel of rope unspooled behind him. He cleared the distance and landed delicately on the cocoon surface, anchoring himself with the toe rods of his StabBoots. The plan was for him to anchor the rope to the asteroid’s surface, allowing Kaufman and Rimas to zip-line in as safely and quickly as possible.
Mazer took his knife from his pouch but hesitated. Would the Hive Queen know he was here as soon as he started cutting? Would she detonate everything instantly? His whole body was tense, like he was lying face down on a giant atom bomb.
He gingerly pushed the blade in through the resin and waited. The cocoon didn’t detonate. There was no fireball, no silent explosion.
Mazer sliced downward, making a long vertical cut in the cocoon. The incision parted as air rushed outward. Mazer cut again, this time horizontally, making an X. The sudden rush of air pushed the four loose flaps of cocoon skin outward.
“Pyramid,” said Mazer.
The nanobots formed into a tall pyramid in front of him, with their point forward, so that they directed much of the air away from him. He still felt pushed back, but it was easier to get inside. Once his whole body was in and clear of the gale he said, “Bubble.”
The nanobots
encircled him again. Mazer hit his thumb trigger, and his propulsion pushed him down to the surface.
“Lights. Vision.”
The nanobots near his helmet lights brought the edge of the bubble in close so that his light protruded through their shield. The same occurred around the cameras on his helmet. The bubble was now a misshapen multi-bulbous shape that allowed him to see clearly. His spotlight fell upon the surface of the rock, and Mazer saw hundreds of tunnels, just as he had seen in Victor’s vid. His boots touched the surface, and his Nan-Ooze soles clung to the tiny cracks in the rock. The end of the rope had an anchoring mechanism with triangulating spikes. Mazer shoved the mechanism into one of the small holes, and the rope anchored.
“Rope set.”
Moments later Kaufman came flying down the zip line, pushed by his propulsion. Rimas followed, pausing at the cocoon to pull in the loose flaps and help the hole seal itself. He landed moments later, surrounded in a hazy cloud of nanobots.
Mazer drew his crossbow—an elaborate carbon-titanium weapon that the engineers on the ship had made. They had tested their crossbows repeatedly to ensure that the firing mechanism didn’t create a spark and ignite the air. But even so, the weapon still felt dangerous in Mazer’s hands. It carried twenty bolts, had a self-cocking mechanism, and fired at one hundred meters per second. Mazer brought it up and set the stock against his shoulder.
“Weapon.”
His nanoshield bent inward again, allowing the tip of the crossbow to poke through the shield. Kaufman and Rimas were armed as well, and the three of them split up, moving outward from the rope as a center point.
Mazer walked along the surface, pausing to look down the larger tunnels he came to, fearful that an attack might come from below. There were hundreds of small tunnels like the ones he had seen in Victor’s vid, just big enough to house a mining worm. Mazer shined his light down into those as well, but he saw no signs of life.
“Anyone see any worms?” Mazer asked.
“I got nothing,” said Kaufman. “Just empty holes.”
“Same here,” said Rimas. “The tunnel walls are all lined with mucous, but I don’t see any pellets of metal. It’s like the worms did their digging, and the metal was all collected.”
The Swarm Page 47
