“But if the observatory is underground, where are the scopes?” asked Victor.
“Far from here,” said Yanyu, “positioned at various points around Luna, away from any light pollution. We tell them where to look, then we process all the images and data in our observation room. Traditional observatories like those on Earth don’t exist on Luna. Up here they’re all cubicles and office space. Not very interesting, I’m afraid.”
The track car dipped suddenly into a tunnel entrance, and for a moment they found themselves in total darkness until the vehicle’s interior lights turned on.
They maintained their speed for several minutes until the car took a fork in the track and began to decelerate. It took a series of turns and then pulled into a docking slot and stopped. Air tubes extended from the wall and encircled the vehicle. Then a chime sounded the all-clear, and the doors slid open. Victor, Imala, and Yanyu stepped out onto the docking platform. Yanyu then led them through a labyrinth of corridors and a series of locked doors. Victor was lost almost immediately.
At each door, a cubical holofield hovered by the doorjamb. Yanyu extended her hand into the holofield and did a series of wrist twists and finger movements that unlocked the door. At first Victor thought the movements were random, but then one of the doors buzzed in the negative and Yanyu had to retract her hand, reinsert it into the field, and begin the dance again. Finally they reached a simple, metal door adorned with the Juke Limited logo and the words:
ASTRONOMICAL OBSERVATORY
Yanyu led them into a low-lit observation room with a domed ceiling. Images of star clusters and nebulae and astronomical data were projected onto the ceiling, dissolving in and out like a screensaver. A dozen desks were scattered around the room with lamps and computer terminals and personal items. In the center of the room was a conference table, where a small crowd of researchers stood waiting. Yanyu stopped and gestured to the bearded man near the front. “Victor, Imala, I’d like you to meet Dr. Richard Prescott, the director of the observatory and our lead astrophysicist.”
Prescott stepped forward and shook Imala’s hand. He was younger than Victor had expected, midthirties maybe, with a mop of brown hair and casual street clothes. “Ms. Bootstamp. A privilege. Welcome. And Mr. Delgado, good to have you, as well. I hope you had no problems getting here.”
“I had to sneak Victor out of the recovery hospital where he was being held,” said Imala. “Which broke a few laws and makes both of us fugitives. Other than that, no problems.”
Prescott seem unfazed by this. He put his hands in his pockets and smiled warmly. “Well, you’re safe here.”
Imala cut to the chase. “We need to get an audience with Ukko Jukes. With his backing, we can make a legitimate warning to Earth. Can you make that happen?”
“Probably,” said Prescott. “But first things first.” He gestured to the conference table. “Won’t you sit down?”
“You don’t believe us, do you?” said Victor.
Prescott smiled. “We wouldn’t have brought you here if we didn’t think you might be telling the truth, Victor. We all believe you to some extent. But before any of us act, we want to be absolutely certain. There are people outside this room who will need a lot more convincing than us. If we work together, we might be able to win them over.” He gestured again to the table, and this time Victor and Imala each took a seat.
Prescott sat at the head of the table. “You have to realize, people in our field are even more skeptical of claims of extraterrestrial life than normal people. We have to be. Scientists are bred to doubt and question everything. Plus the prevailing belief has always been that we would hear extraterrestrial life before we saw it. We’d pick up their transmissions long before they showed up on our scopes. But so far no one in the science community has heard anything.”
“You can’t hear anything,” said Imala. “The interference is crippling communications.”
“True,” said Prescott. “But that makes the whole claim of extraterrestrial life all the more difficult to believe. Impaired communications strike a lot of people as enormously convenient to a charlatan trying to justify the sky’s silence.”
“I’m not a charlatan,” said Victor.
“I’m not saying you are,” said Prescott. “I’m telling you what the chatter is out there. Nobody wants to back you because it’s a claim they can’t independently validate. So they keep quiet and hope someone else will take the risk. No one wants to look like a fool supporting what might be the biggest hoax of the century.”
“The biggest discovery of the century,” Victor corrected. “Not to mention the biggest threat to our species.”
Prescott settled back in his chair. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Yanyu has shown us a few observations she’s made. We’ve all seen the vids you and Imala uploaded. We’ve combed through the evidence. We’ve argued about it for hours. Now we want to hear it straight from you. If we believe you, we’ll make things happen. The floor is yours, Victor. Convince us.”
Victor glanced at Imala, who gave him an encouraging nod. Then he looked at the faces of the people gathered around the table, all of them older than him and well educated and experts in their field. Most of their expressions were unreadable, but a few had a hard time hiding their skepticism.
He cleared his throat and began to speak.
For the first hour no one said a word. Then Yanyu would occasionally speak up, throwing in astronomical data that seemed to validate Victor’s story.
When he finished, the questions came fast. How is this ship causing the interference? Where is the ship now? Has anyone attempted to communicate with it, not with radio but by other means? Infrared light perhaps? What are the ship’s intentions?
“I don’t know,” Victor said for the tenth time. “I don’t know where the ship is or what damage it’s caused or what lives it’s taken. I wish I did know. I wish I had answers. I wish I knew my family was safe.”
The mention of his family pricked some well of emotion inside him, and for a moment, he thought he might lose his composure. He swallowed, took a breath, and buried the emotion. “I don’t have the answers. I’m not a navigator. I know basic fight mechanics and trajectory mapping, but that wasn’t my job on my ship. I’m a mechanic. I build things, fix things. My family sent me because I was young and healthy. I had the best chance of withstanding the physical beating the trip would inflict on my body.
“Plus I could repair the quickship if anything went wrong. No one on board had that level of mechanical expertise. It had to be me. I know you’d rather have someone who understands science as much as you do, but I’m not that person. I’m the messenger.” He paused and looked at each of the researchers in turn. “The ship is real and it’s coming. A few days, a few months, I don’t know. But it’s coming. If we could talk to the ships in the Belt, we’d have thousands of people validating my claim. But since we don’t, I recognize that it makes my story all the less believable. But ask yourself, do I look like I could orchestrate all this evidence? Do I seem like the kind of person who would invent all this for laughs? Do I seem like someone who could create vids and mountains of evidence that could withstand this level of scrutiny? I’m a free miner. We’re scraping by out there, flying by the seat of our pants, and sometimes barely putting food in front of us. I’m not looking for money. I have nothing to gain here but saving lives. If you think you can shoot holes in my story, give it your best shot. But I promise you you’ll fail. Every word I’ve said is true.”
The room was silent. Everyone watched him. Imala found Victor’s hand under the table and gave it a squeeze of encouragement. Finally Prescott leaned forward and put a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “We believe you, Victor. Some needed a little extra convincing, yes, but I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re behind you. We’ll help you as much as we can.”
Victor felt such a rush of relief that he almost broke down again. It was going to work. The word would get out. He exhaled and grinned at Prescott.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you, Victor. All of Earth owes you a debt of gratitude.”
“This isn’t going to be easy,” said Imala. “I don’t mean to dampen the mood here, but let’s not forget that the media has already dismissed this idea. We’ve already been labeled phonies in some circles. I’ve been fighting this battle for a while now and losing. If you’re with us, you need to be with us not only now, in the safety of this room, but also outside as well, where the rest of the world stands ready to mock and scorn. My career is likely over. Yours may be as well if you do this. I’m not trying to convince you to abandon us, I’m simply making sure you understand what we’re up against.”
“Your point’s well made,” said Prescott. “I can only safely speak for myself, Imala, but I assure you I’m with you.”
“Me too,” said Yanyu.
The others in the room nodded.
“Then what do we do?” asked Imala.
“Two things,” said Prescott. “We continue validating Victor’s story by searching the sky and getting all of our friends in the field doing the same. We do a full-court press on that. Secondly, and more immediately, I’ll make some calls. Getting an audience with Mr. Jukes isn’t easy. He has an army of people who resolve issues for him and deflect people like us. But considering the circumstances, I think we can break through.”
* * *
They didn’t break through. Not immediately anyway. They were told that Ukko Jukes was otherwise occupied and inaccessible.
“Can’t we just go to the press?” Victor asked Prescott. “With your added credibility, someone would listen.”
“While I appreciate you putting so much weight in my endorsement, the fact is, it’s not enough. There are ten people out there with the same degree of notoriety and credentials that I have who would counter me and discredit the idea. Sad but true. Some of these people are wolves. I’ve disproved a lot of their theories, and that hasn’t exactly endeared me to them. They’d all be quite happy to put a shot across my bow. If we go without Ukko, we have to be ironclad. We have to be so convincing, that the doubters are the ones who look like irrational crazies and not us. That may take time. The team is working on it, and we’re getting there, but I think Yanyu and Imala are right. Ukko is our fastest recourse. If we can get him, we’re golden.”
Hours later, long into the evening, Prescott pulled Victor and Imala aside. “The staff is staying here tonight. It doesn’t look like we’ll get word on Ukko until tomorrow. I can have someone take you to your apartment, Imala, but that might not be a good idea. I’d rather keep Victor here, and frankly it’s probably better if you stay as well. We have extra cots. They’re not terribly comfortable, but they’re yours if you want them.”
Yanyu showed Victor and Imala where two adjacent offices were being used for storage. Two cots had been set up, one in each office. Yanyu brought Imala and Victor each a pillow, blanket, emergency pack of toiletries, and a clean Juke jumpsuit. Victor found the men’s restroom down the hall, showered, then dressed in the jumpsuit. He felt like a traitor wearing it, like he was disavowing his family somehow. But the suit fit well, and it felt good to get into clean clothes.
He returned to his room and lay down on the cot. He tried to get comfortable but sleep wouldn’t come. Rehashing his experience to the observatory staff had turned his mind to home.
Nine months. Had it really been that long since he had last seen Mother and Father?
The images from Yanyu’s holopad of the destruction in the Belt weighed on him. He knew that none of the destroyed ships at Kleopatra could possibly be El Cavador—there was no way his family could have beaten the alien ship to the inner Belt. Yet the mere existence of the debris had unleashed a flood of dark possibilities in his mind. What if the alien ship had caused the same level of destruction in the Kuiper Belt? Victor’s family had been rushing to a depot to warn the people there that the hormiga ship was coming. What if the hormigas had attacked the depot just as El Cavador arrived?
It wasn’t the first time Victor had imagined worst-case scenarios. A day hadn’t gone by since leaving El Cavador that he hadn’t pictured some horrendous accident befalling the ship.
Yet in every instance, whenever such thoughts surfaced, Victor’s confidence in his family had always allowed him to push the fears aside. Father would keep them safe, he told himself. Everyone would work together. They would be fine. That’s what the family did. They survived. They always had. When critical systems failed and the worst outcome seemed imminent, the family always found a way to overcome it. Father had never failed in that regard.
I shouldn’t worry, he had always told himself. Not yet. Not until I have cause.
Well, now he had cause. The images of the destroyed ships in the inner Belt gave new life to every horrendous outcome he had imagined.
Victor pressed the palms of his hands into his closed eye sockets. Please God, let them be alive. Let Mother and Father and Mono and Edimar and all of them be alive.
He pulled the blanket up and tried to shake the thoughts away. Father would keep them safe. Father had never failed them.
When sleep took him, he saw hundreds of hormigas crawling over the surface of El Cavador, twisting open the hatches and peeling back the armor. They scurried into the holes they created, pouring in, climbing and clawing over each other, rushing through the cargo bay, flying down the corridors, hungry, determined, maws open, arms outstretched, wriggling in a massive wave of scurrying bodies and pattering bug feet. They burst through the door of the helm and rushed inside, where Mother and Father and the whole family were crowded in a corner, cowering, screaming, desperate, arms raised up to protect their faces.
* * *
Word came back from Ukko’s office the following morning as Victor was having breakfast with Imala in the observation room. “He’s agreed to see us,” said Prescott. “He’s giving a presentation to the press this afternoon, and his assistant said he’d grant us five minutes afterwards.”
“Five whole minutes?” said Imala. “Well, I’m glad to hear the fate of the world should warrant so much of Ukko Jukes’s precious time.”
“We’re lucky to get this much,” said Prescott. “I had to argue with his assistant to even get on his calendar. She wanted to schedule us two weeks from now.”
“Luna may not exist two weeks from now,” said Imala.
“That’s what I told her. It got her attention.”
“Did you tell her it was an alien invasion?” asked Victor.
“If I had she would have laughed me to scorn and terminated the holo. The words ‘alien invasion’ sound ridiculous.”
“Yet true nonetheless,” said Imala.
“I could only bait the hook,” said Prescott. “I told her we had made the greatest scientific discovery in centuries and that if Mr. Jukes made the announcement to the world, he’d be considered an international hero. That piqued her interest.”
“If he already has an appointment with the press,” said Victor, “we should see him before he meets with them. That way he can pass on the warning immediately.”
“No chance of that,” said Prescott. “For starters, this isn’t the right type of press. They’re all tech journalists and industry bloggers. Ukko’s unveiling something the company’s been developing. When we go to the world with our story it needs to be with all the big news feeds and networks. Ukko will want to make a show of it. Besides, he won’t want to go to the press today, even if he believes us. He’ll want further evidence first.”
“More evidence?” said Victor. “How much evidence do people need?”
“Ukko’s cautious,” said Prescott. “He’ll want incontrovertible evidence from his own people. Evidence from a free miner will hold little weight. He’ll regard it warily. I mean no offence. That’s just how it is.”
“But you have gathered evidence,” said Imala.
“Evidence of destroyed ships,” said Prescott. “That proves there’s been an incident. It doesn’t pr
ove who’s responsible.”
“Five minutes isn’t a lot of time to convince him,” said Victor.
“You only have to hook him. Once he believes this is possible, he’ll wipe the rest of his schedule clean and give you all the time in the world.”
Prescott called for a skimmer, and he, Yanyu, Victor, and Imala boarded it and returned to the surface. Ukko’s office was underground within the Juke tunnel system, but it was located at such a distance away that Prescott thought it faster to fly to the docking station nearest the office than to weave their way through the tunnels.
After the short flight, they descended underground again and entered a wing of the tunnels that was far more elegant and brightly lit. Here the floors were hardwood with strong magnets underneath that pulled on everyone’s greaves and allowed them to walk normally despite Luna’s low gravity. There were leather sofas and chairs, potted plants and abstract art, tapestries and vaulted ceilings, massive sculptures made of iron ore mined from asteroids deep in the Belt, all lit by soft recessed lights that gave the whole wing a prestigious air.
Prescott led them into the waiting room to Ukko’s office, where a tank of tropical fish consumed an entire wall. Inside it, the tunneled rock of Luna had been carved out to resemble a coral reef, and eels and other vibrantly colored water creatures swam in and out of crevices and holes barely bigger than Victor’s fist.
The site of it all made Victor sick. All this money, all this extravagance. Out in the Belt free-miner families slaved over asteroids to pull out enough lumps to feed their children, only to have corporates like Juke Limited sweep in, jump their claim, and toss the family aside. And what did the Juke bastards do with that money? They bought fish tanks and sculptures and hardwood floors and pranced around in their palaces while honest people went hungry.
Earth Afire (The First Formic War) Page 6
