Earth Unaware

by Orson Scott Card

  “That’s good news for us,” said Edimar. “We’re moving in the same direction as it is alongside the starship’s trajectory. We’re not on a collision course. When it passes us, it should ignore us.”

  “Unless it’s blasting every ship in sight,” said Bahzím. “Just because it didn’t blow up a bunch of rocks out there, doesn’t mean it won’t gun us. What do we know? Maybe its mission is to destroy every human ship it sees. It didn’t exactly leave the Italians alone, and they weren’t a collision threat, either.”

  “We won’t be close to it when it passes,” said Dreo. “We’re moving parallel to its trajectory but at a great distance. It’s never fired on anything remotely close to this range.”

  “So it will pass us before we reach Weigh Station Four?” asked Concepción.

  “Yes,” said Edimar. “Which obviously means it will pass the weigh station before we reach the station, though not by much.”

  Concepción turned to Segundo. “Any luck with the radio?”

  They had been trying for weeks to contact the weigh station, but without any success.

  “Radio’s only working for short distances,” said Segundo. “We’ve been sending out messages to the station, but all we hear back is static. There’s a lot of interference.”

  “Maybe the hormigas are scrambling radio,” said Bahzím.

  Segundo shrugged. “Who’s to say they even know what radio is? They may have another communication system entirely. Or the problem might be the radiation their ship is emitting. Maybe that’s disrupting transmissions somehow. Even at this distance. I don’t know.”

  “So the station still doesn’t know the ship is coming?” asked Bahzím.

  “Not unless they’ve detected it themselves,” said Segundo. “Which is possible, but I doubt it. It’s not heading directly for them—it will miss them by a hundred thousand kilometers—so their computers probably won’t alert them. And you know the guys they have manning the control room. They’re overworked dockworkers, picking up overtime. They’re not experts like Toron or Edimar. If it’s not a collision threat, what do they care? If I had to guess, I’d say the station is completely unaware.”

  “The upside,” said Dreo, “is that based on the hormiga ship’s prior behavior, it will probably leave the weigh station alone and move right on by. We’ll get there a day later, and we can use their laserline then.”

  Concepción leaned forward, staring down at the starship in the holospace. “For the sake of everyone on board that station, I pray to God you’re right.”

  * * *

  Podolski was hiding in a small rented room adjacent to a noodle shop on Weigh Station Four when the authorities found him. They kicked in the door after Podolski didn’t answer it, and he cowered to the back corner of the room. He could tell at once that they weren’t real police officials. They were rough men, dressed like the men Chubs and the ship’s crew had killed at the docking tunnel before rocketing away and leaving Podolski here, stranded.

  “Hello there,” said the big man in the front. He had a European accent Podolski couldn’t place. “You’re a tough bird to find, friend. I had to ask three different people before we tracked you down.” He laughed. “That was a joke, friend. Come on now. No need for tears. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

  Podolski wiped at his eyes. Was he crying? He hadn’t noticed. He wondered where Mangler and Wain were. They were supposed to be protecting him. They were supposed to be right outside.

  “Who are you?” said Podolski.

  “You might say we’re the keepers of the peace around here,” the man said. “And seeing as how there’s been a disruption in the peace recently, our first question is: Who are the new people on the station? Maybe they have some information on this. You follow me? Logical detective work.”

  “I don’t know anything,” said Podolski.

  The man smiled. “Now, now, friend. Don’t cut yourself so short. You know lots of things I’m sure. Like your name for instance. You know that much, don’t you?”

  “Gunther Podolski.”

  “Podolski,” repeated the man, smiling. “You see? You do have information. Now, what ship did you come in on?”

  “Where are my friends?” asked Podolski, finding his courage now. “The ones who were outside.”

  The big man tried to hide his annoyance. “Your friends are being cooperative, Podolski. We’re asking them questions, and they’re happy to answer them. You should answer them, too. It’ll make it easier for everyone.”

  Podolski said nothing.

  The big man eyed Podolski’s bag anchored to the table and opened it. Inside were various holopads and equipment for accessing and wiping El Cavador. The big man whistled. “You’re not packing light, are you Mr. Podolski? These are some fancy machines, all so shiny and new. If I didn’t know any better I’d say this was corporate gear.”

  Podolski said nothing.

  “I won’t lie to you, Mr. Podolski, this is bad news for you.” He held up the bag. “This is incriminating evidence. One of the honorable entrepreneurs of this weigh station was robbed and murdered two days ago along with several of his employees, and this bag makes you a prime suspect. Personally, I didn’t much care for the man, but he was one of our citizens, and more importantly, he owed me a good deal of money. Then suddenly I find you, Mr. Podolski, a stranger with all this equipment for robbing people.”

  “That’s not what it’s for,” said Podolski.

  The man raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Got other plans, do you? Enlighten me.”

  Podolski said nothing.

  The big man sighed. “You’re not being cooperative, Mr. Podolski. I’m no lawyer, but that makes you look guilty.” He took a step closer. “Now if you have Mr. Staggar’s money, this could all be resolved rather easily.”

  “I don’t have his money,” said Podolski. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  The man smiled. “You may not know his name, but you know the man. I’ll refresh your memory. Dead guy. Docking tunnel. Ugly as a rock, probably from getting hit in the face over the years for being obstinate just like you.”

  The man’s hand was suddenly around Podolski’s neck, squeezing. Podolski gagged. His windpipe felt crushed. The man’s fingernails dug into Podolski’s skin.

  “These aren’t difficult questions, Mr. Podolski. I’m trying to be reasonable, and you’re not meeting me halfway. So I’ll be clearer for your sake. You give me whatever cash you took from Mr. Staggar, and I’ll do a poor job with the paperwork and forget you and I shared words. That strikes me as a reasonable proposition. What do you say?”

  Podolski saw spots. His lungs screamed for air. He wanted to assure the man that he didn’t have what he was looking for. He tried to say, “I can’t give you what I don’t have.” But all that came out in a wheezy desperate whisper was, “I can’t.”

  The man took it as defiance.

  Podolski was flying. The man had thrown him, and Podolski was weightless. Podolski went through the doorway and out into the marketplace, his arm striking the door frame as he passed. He heard something snap. His body spun. People screamed and dodged. He hit something else midflight—he didn’t know what—then struck the shielded glass wall opposite and bounced away. The big man caught him in the air and slammed him back face-first against the glass. Podolski’s arm was broken. He could feel it bent awkwardly behind him. The man was at his ear, saying something, but Podolski couldn’t make it out. Everything sounded muffled and distant.

  Beyond the glass was space, black and silent and sprinkled with stars. Podolski wanted to tell the man that he had money for passage to Luna. The man could have that. Podolski didn’t care. But the words wouldn’t form in his mouth. They were buzzing around inside him, but he couldn’t grasp them and get them out.

  He is going to kill me, thought Podolski. I am going to die here, alone, eight billion klicks from home.

  There was a distant flash of light in space.

  Then
the sky was no longer black. It was a wall of green, flameless fire rushing forward. And in the microsecond before it consumed everything and burned up the world, Podolski realized that death was coming after all, though not in any way he had expected. Nor was he—it turned out—going to die alone. Wasn’t life full of surprises?

  CHAPTER 17

  Allies

  Concepción called the Council to the helm even though it was the middle of sleep-shift. The adults quickly gathered, groggy and unkempt and alarmed. “Weigh Station Four has been destroyed,” Concepción said. “We just received the data from the Eye a few moments ago.”

  Their faces showed shock, horror, confusion. Those who had been half asleep were now wide awake.

  “The hormiga ship unleashed a massive burst of its weapon as it was passing the station,” said Concepción. “The station subsequently went dark. No light. No power. The main structure is mostly intact, but several pieces have broken off. We don’t have any contact with the station, so we have no way to determine if there are any survivors. We’ve been trying to reach them for some time now, but without success. Segundo believes the weapon could be laserized gamma plasma. If that’s accurate, then it’s likely the station received a fatal dose of radiation.”

  “How many people?” asked Rena.

  “We don’t know,” said Concepción. “Several hundred at least.”

  One of the Italian survivors began to cry, a woman, Mariana, who had lost her husband and four children. Rena put an arm around her, comforting her. The news was reopening a still-healing wound.

  “I thought the hormiga ship was a distance from the station,” said Segundo.

  “It was,” said Concepción. “Which is one of the reasons why we suspect this may not have been a tactical strike.”

  “Not a strike?” said Bahzím. “What could it have been? An accident?”

  “Edimar will explain,” said Concepción.

  Edimar stepped forward, and a rendering of the hormiga ship appeared behind her in the holospace above the table. “It wasn’t an accident,” she said. “The hormigas deliberately fired their weapon. But based on what we’ve learned from the Eye, it’s not clear if the hormigas were targeting the station.”

  “What else could they have been targeting?” said Rena. “If they hit it with a focused burst, it’s too much of a coincidence to suggest they weren’t aiming for it.”

  “That’s just it,” said Edimar. “The ship didn’t fire a focused burst. It fired in every direction at once.”

  She hit a command on the holotable, and a simulation began. Gamma plasma ejected from all sides of the hormiga ship at once, growing outward, getting larger, until the ship stopped emitting the plasma, and the fast-growing wall of destruction became a giant ring with the hole in the center, continually getting larger as it stretched out in every direction.

  “The hormiga ship didn’t fire at the weigh station,” said Edimar. “It fired at everything.”

  The simulation was on a loop and began again from the beginning.

  “If it fired in all directions at once,” said Rena, “and has a long range, why didn’t we get hit?”

  “Because we’re much farther away,” said Concepción. “Well behind the ship. Over two million kilometers. We’re probably getting some radiation, but it has greatly dissipated by the time it reaches us. Not enough to damage us. Not a lethal dose. We were lucky.”

  “Don’t know if I’d call this lucky,” said Rena. “This means the ship’s weapons are far more powerful than we thought.”

  “What if they aren’t weapons?” said Segundo. “Or at least, maybe the ship wasn’t using the radiation at that moment as a weapon.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Concepción.

  “If it’s sucking up hydrogen atoms at near-lightspeed and taking in all this radiation, it has to expulse it somehow,” said Segundo, “especially when it’s trying to slow down. It doesn’t want to shoot it out the back like it normally does. That would only give it massive thrust. And it doesn’t want to accelerate. It wants to decelerate. So it must be getting rid of the buildup some other way.”

  “And if its weapons and fuel are the same substance like we suspect…,” said Concepción.

  “Then its weapons are the means of releasing all that buildup,” finished Segundo. “Notice how the weapons fired in all directions at once at the same amount. That’s logical, because if it released the plasma on just one side or if it released more plasma on one side than on the other, the plasma would generate enough thrust on that side to change the ship’s course, which the ship doesn’t want to do. Its course is set.”

  “So Weigh Station Four was destroyed by the ship’s exhaust?” asked Selmo.

  “If you want to call it that,” said Segundo. “It’s the one drawback of their weapon. The ship never stops collecting hydrogen. And when they’re decelerating, that’s a problem because they have no other way besides their weapons to dump all the excess. So they blast it out in every direction, and whatever happens to be right outside, tough luck.”

  “That’s irresponsible,” said Bahzím. “If you have a system like that, you have to make sure nothing is in the way.”

  “Apparently the hormigas don’t care what gets destroyed,” said Segundo.

  “So the weigh station was at the wrong place at the wrong time?” said Rena.

  “No,” said Concepción. “The weigh station was destroyed by a careless species with no regard for human life.”

  There was a silence among them.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Segundo.

  “I’ve made a decision,” said Concepción. “Only because one had to be made immediately. If you think I’m wrong, it’s not too late to change that decision. But I don’t think I’m wrong. I told Selmo not to decelerate. Rather than move for Weigh Station Four, we’re moving to intercept the ship and attack it.”

  The reaction was fierce and loud as everyone began speaking and shouting at once. Concepción raised her arms to quiet them, but the tumult continued.

  Segundo’s voice thundered over everyone else’s. “Quiet!”

  The voices died.

  “Let’s hear her out,” said Segundo.

  “Thank you,” said Concepción. “I know what I’m suggesting is extremely dangerous, but consider our situation. As far as we know, no one else is aware that this ship is headed to Earth. No one else knows it’s killed hundreds of people, or that it has a weapon powerful enough to annihilate anything within a hundred thousand kilometers of it or more; or that its creatures care nothing for human life and will attack without provocation. We’re the only people who know that. And right now we don’t have any means of issuing a warning. Weigh Station Four is gone. We can hope that Victor will reach Luna and warn Earth, but he’s still several months away. The hormigas will cover a lot of space in that time. And if we let them, if we do nothing, more people will die.”

  “How can we possibly stop it?” said Dreo. “We can’t compete with its tech and weapons. A whole fleet of warships couldn’t stop it. You thought going up against the pod was impossible? This would be a thousand times worse.”

  “We don’t have to destroy it,” said Concepción. “It might be enough to cripple it. That would give Earth more time to build a defense, or it would give military ships enough time to come and destroy it.”

  “And how would we cripple it?” asked Dreo. “We have five PKs. Five. Have we forgotten how big this thing is? We’re a fraction of its size. Five PKs might not inflict any damage.”

  “I don’t know how we’d do it,” said Concepción. “That will require thought. But doing nothing isn’t an option. If we let it go, families will die. Whole clans maybe.”

  “No offense,” said Dreo, “but that’s not our problem. We did our part. We destroyed the pod. We saved nine people. We sent Victor to Luna. We lost Toron and Alejandra and Faron. We’ve made our sacrifices. We’ve done our duty. What you’re suggesting will get us all killed. This is
out of our hands now. It’s too big for us to solve.”

  “I agree with Concepción,” said Edimar. “If we can make an attempt to stop it, we should.”

  “Of course you agree,” said Dreo. “You lost half your family. You’re angry. I, for one, would like to live. Besides, did we not just establish that they have a weapon that can destroy everything around it? How could we even get close enough to attack it?”

  “Don’t think of it as a weapon,” said Segundo. “Think of it as exhaust.”

  “What difference does it make?” said Dreo. “If it fires it, we’re just as dead.”

  “It does make a difference,” said Segundo. “Because if it just unleashed a massive amount of exhaust, then it stands to reason that it won’t release more exhaust for some time. If we’re going to strike it, now is the time.”

  “You can’t be serious,” said Dreo. He looked at those around him. “Am I the only one who thinks this is insane? What about our children? Are we willing to risk them, too?”

  “We don’t have to do this alone,” said Concepción. “There are other ships ahead of us. If we can contact them, we can enlist help. Maybe we could load the children onto another ship and keep that ship out of the fray.”

  “We’re not a warship,” said Dreo. “This isn’t our fight.”

  “It is our fight,” said Concepción. “It is most definitely our fight. That ship is a threat to every human alive. Now, if all of you tell me I’m wrong, if all of you disagree, then I’ll stop the ship. Otherwise, we’re attacking that ship.”

  “How can we enlist help with all this interference?” asked Rena.

  “The radio will work for up to a few hundred kilometers,” said Segundo. “It’s the long-distance messages that can’t get through. If we get close enough to another ship, we can get a high-bandwidth message through. Holo to holo.”

  “Who would help us?” said Bahzím.

  “We’d have to be selective,” said Concepción. “The only mining ships that could likely intercept the hormigas are ones that are already moving in this direction at a high velocity. There isn’t time for other ships to change their course and accelerate up to our speed. Selmo, what ships ahead of us qualify?”