A beacon sent from one of the ships in the battle might hold critical, useful intel. Maybe they had discovered a weakness in the Formics’ defenses. Or perhaps they had more information about the Formics’ weapons capabilities. Any nugget of information could be helpful.
“Is the beacon broadcasting a message?” asked Lem.
“Affirmative,” said Chubs. “But sensors are only getting a billionth of it through the interference. We can’t make it out. The light sequence suggests it’s a STASA beacon, though.”
Every satellite used blinking lights to identify itself from a distance in case radio had failed. No sequence was more familiar to anyone than that of the Space Trade and Security Authority.
“I’m on my way,” said Lem. He clicked off and launched toward the push tube. Benyawe, as he expected, followed close behind. When they reached the helm, a rendering of the beacon spun in the system chart in front of them, its lights dancing across its surface.
“Can you determine when it was sent?” asked Lem. “Was it before or after the battle?”
“Impossible to say,” said Chubs. “It may have nothing to do with the battle. We don’t know.”
“Where is it now? Could we intercept it?”
“It’s not along our current trajectory. If we alter our course, we could snag it in about eighteen hours.”
“Would that delay our arrival to Luna?” asked Benyawe.
“By twelve days at least,” said Chubs.
“Twelve days?” asked Lem.
Chubs shrugged. “That’s the math. We’d have to decelerate to intercept the beacon and then accelerate back up to our current speed. Twelve days minimum.”
Lem considered a moment. “You think we should go for it?”
“In all honesty, it’s probably not worth pursuing,” said Chubs. “If it were a free-miner or corporate ship, I might expect intel on Formic defenses or weapons, something useful. But this is a STASA beacon. It’s probably a worthless emergency announcement.”
“Maybe it’s a distress signal,” said Benyawe.
“If it is, it was sent from the ship before the ship was destroyed,” said Chubs. “There’s nothing left from the battle but debris. And even if by some miracle a few people survived in a scrap of wreckage and fired off a beacon, they couldn’t have held out this long. Too much time has passed. There’s no one out there we can save.”
“Maybe it has information about the battle,” said Benyawe. “Which ships were engaged, crew manifests. That would allow us to at least document the battle for historical purposes.”
“We’re not historians,” said Chubs. “That’s not our mission.”
“Even so,” said Benyawe, “thousands of people lost their lives. Their families on Earth have a right to know what happened to them. That battle is a testament to human courage.”
“And a testament to human inadequacy,” said Chubs. “You’re not going to boost morale on Earth by pointing out how our new alien friends wiped out dozens of heavily armed ships.”
“We’re not going to keep it a secret either,” said Benyawe. “Earth needs to know what it’s up against.”
“The Formics will reach Earth long before we do,” said Chubs. “By then Earth will know exactly what it’s up against.”
“I say we go for it,” said Lem. “Right now we don’t have any critical intel that’s going to make any difference in the coming conflict. With that beacon we might. If we show up twelve days late, so be it. It’s not like they’re expecting us.”
Eighteen hours later a crewman extended one of the ship’s claws normally used for mineral extraction and snagged the beacon from space. Lem watched from the helm as the claw brought the beacon into a holding bay. There crewmen attached cables to the beacon’s data ports. Three seconds later the download was complete.
Lem went to the conference room beside the helm with Benyawe and Chubs and pulled up the beacon’s files and projected them in the holofield above the table. There were images of the Formic ship; 3-D models; information about the ship’s trajectory, speed, and estimated date of arrival at Earth, but nothing new, nothing Lem didn’t know already. No weapons analysis. No identified weakness. Lem waved his hand through the field, pushing files aside and bringing others to the forefront to take a closer look. Worthless, worthless, worthless. It was all old news. His hand moved faster. He was getting impatient.
A man’s head appeared. It was a vid. Lem stopped.
The man looked to be in his fifties—old for a space commission, but not that abnormal for high-ranking officers. Lem made the appropriate hand gesture, and the vid began to play.
“I am Captain Dionetti of the Space Trade and Security Authority, commanding officer of The Star Seer. As the evidence in these files shows, an alien vessel is approaching Earth at incredible speed. We have been tracking alongside it for the past three days, and we will continue to match its speed and monitor it until it reaches Earth.”
“Don’t monitor it, you idiot,” said Lem. “Destroy it.”
The captain continued uninterrupted. “Two weeks ago, reports circulated among the ships here in the inner Belt that an alien vessel had attacked an unspecified number of ships near Kleopatra. News of this engagement spread quickly among the ships in the area. Several clans and corporate vessels decided to stage an offensive against the alien vessel once it reached our position. I and other STASA officers made repeated attempts to quell such an illegal and unprovoked attack—”
“Unprovoked?” said Lem.
“We reminded miners that attacking any ship is against space trade law established by STASA and ratified by the U.N. Security Council. We do not know this alien ship’s intentions, and such aggression might justifiably provoke it to defend itself or retaliate, thus putting all of Earth in jeopardy.
“Sadly, the mining ships ignored our counsel, and a total of sixty-two ships joined in the assault. Our vessel recorded the events from a distance, and the vids of that battle are included amongst these files. I am saddened to report that all sixty-two ships appear to have been destroyed. As you will see from the vids, the alien vessel is fully capable of defending itself if provoked. Therefore, by the authority invested in me by the Space Peace Act and the Space Emergency Response Act, STASA is issuing a cease-fire against the alien vessel. Any mining ship which fires upon or attempts to obstruct the alien vessel will be subject to arrest.”
“Cease-fire?” said Lem. “Tell me this is a joke.”
“Typical STASA,” said Chubs.
“The human race is a peaceful species,” continued the captain, “and STASA will do everything in its power to maintain that peace. Rather than provoke our alien visitors and assume malicious intent, we will extend to them the hand of welcome and begin diplomatic efforts to establish a lasting, peaceful relationship between our two species. If the intel in this beacon reaches Earth before we do, we implore you to notify STASA of our escort and to make preparations to greet the alien ship with the proper delegates and peace offering. God protect us. End of transmission.”
The man’s head winked out.
“Are they insane?” Lem said. “A peace offering? He watched the Formics wipe out sixty-two ships, and he wants to shower them with gifts? Unbelievable.”
“He saw the Formics’ firepower,” said Benyawe. “He’s trying to prevent another massacre and maintain calm. Firing on the Formics is only going to lead to more deaths. You can’t argue with that. He’s doing what he thinks is best for Earth.”
“He’s wrong,” said Lem. “We saw their firepower too. We saw what they did to El Cavador. That doesn’t mean we’re suddenly going to crawl into bed with them.”
“I’m not saying I agree with him,” said Benyawe. “I’m saying he’s asking for diplomacy over rash action. I see his point of view.”
“His point of view is boneheaded arrogance. You didn’t see these creatures up close, Benyawe. I did. And believe me, a nice present in a pretty pink bow isn’t going to make them our best frien
ds.”
“What do we do now?” said Chubs.
“We get to Luna as fast as we can and pray the political idiots don’t roll out the red carpet.”
“Faster than our previous speed?” asked Chubs.
“We can bump it up a notch,” said Lem. “We’re trying to avoid collision threats, I know, but our previous speed was still a little cautious. Let’s push the safety parameters.”
Chubs nodded. “I’ll give the order immediately.” He hurried back to the helm.
Lem returned his attention to the holofield where the captain’s head had been. “How could someone be so asinine? An escort? The man watched all those people die and he has the audacity to give the Formics an escort?”
Benyawe shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sixty-two ships.”
“We thought it might be more than that,” said Lem.
“So many people.”
Lem wiped his hand through the holofield, searching through the files for the vid of the battle. He found it and played it.
A massive cluster of ships appeared in the holofield. In the center was the Formic ship, huge and imposing, like a giant red moon hurtling through space. Dozens of mining ships were matching its speed, buzzing around it like bees at a hive, firing at the Formics with everything they had, which despite their numbers, seemed woefully inadequate.
Even at a distance Lem recognized several ships from his father’s fleet, all of them armored with additional plates crudely welded to their hulls. They had apparently hastily readied themselves for war, but the added armor did nothing for them. One by one, the Formic guns picked off the ships, slinging hundreds of globules of laserized gamma plasma with perfect accuracy, vaporizing whole clusters of ships in flashes that sent debris hurtling in every direction.
Those ships are nothing to them, Lem realized. We’re gnats. Mild annoyances. Easily pushed away, barely worth the effort.
As Lem and Benyawe watched, ship after ship broke apart into nothing, spilling their innards and crew into space. Most of the debris vanished as it moved out in every direction, but some of it continued forward in the direction the ship had been moving, carried by inertia as if it refused to accept it was dead and leave the fight.
Other pieces of debris were caught in an invisible field behind the Formic ship and pulled along, as if a giant magnet at the rear of the Formic ship caused the debris to change course and follow the ship.
The surviving ships pressed on, undeterred, firing relentlessly, pounding away at the Formics with everything in their arsenal. The outcome was always the same. Death, death, death. In moments, the hive of bees was diminishing, thinning out, leaving only a few persistent ships. Don’t you see it’s useless? Lem wanted to scream at them. Don’t you see you’re going to die? You’re not even damaging them. Pull away. Dying accomplishes nothing.
But the ships in the holofield ignored him, firing and hammering away. It was pathetic now. A mere handful of ships remained. And then in a flurry of Formic fire, they were gone, leaving nothing but the Formic ship itself, unscathed and unflinching, silent once again as it bored through space like a bullet toward Earth, dragging a line of wreckage behind it.
The vid stopped.
Benyawe wiped at her eyes.
And to Lem’s surprise, he realized that his own eyes were wet as well. He wiped at them quickly, furious with himself.
Fools, he thought. They had all been fools. Why had they persisted? Why had they wasted it all? Didn’t they see they weren’t making a dent? Didn’t they know their loved ones on Earth would be devastated?
Of course they knew, he realized. It was their loved ones on Earth that had driven them. That’s what had kept them in the fight, a desperation to save those back home.
I could have done the same, he thought. I could’ve stayed in the fight as well when we confronted them. But I didn’t. I ran. I scurried away like a frightened mouse. Does that make me the wise man or the greater fool?
“I need to get word to my father,” he said. “Laserlines aren’t getting through, but we need to send something, anything. And we need to send it repeatedly, nonstop, a continuous broadcast. Maybe we’ll hit a pocket where the interference is thin. Maybe someone will hear us and relay it through. Maybe it won’t work, but we have to try.”
He waited for her to respond, to say something, anything.
Finally when she spoke, her voice was trembling. “What will they do when they reach Earth, Lem?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But they won’t do it for long. I’m going to destroy it. With or without my father’s help, I am going to destroy it.”
CHAPTER 9
Announcement
Victor stepped through the doorway and into the small furnished apartment. It was a company suite, located underground in Juke’s tunnel system and normally reserved for employees from Earth when they visited corporate headquarters. The lights came on, and an image of the Imbrium skyline at night appeared on the wall where a window should be.
“Someone will bring you your meals,” said Simona. “If you get hungry before then, there’s a kitchenette and a fully stocked pantry. Help yourself.”
“What about Imala? Are you putting her up somewhere as well? She can’t go back to her apartment. She helped me escape. The authorities might be looking for her.”
“You needn’t worry about Ms. Bootstamp. Mr. Jukes will provide for her. The police won’t be a problem.”
“Meaning what? Ukko controls the police?”
Simona ignored the question. “I’ll bring you some fresh clothes. Stay presentable and keep the room neat. You’ll probably have visitors.”
“Who?”
“Specialists. Scientists. People with questions.”
“I told you everything I know.”
“Mr. Jukes will want to verify your claims with his own people.”
“Prescott and Yanyu are already working on that.”
“Mr. Jukes has specialists in all fields. He’ll want many of them to talk to you.”
“Every moment counts,” said Victor. “Why is everyone dragging their feet on this? Did I not make it clear what’s at stake here? Militaries need time to prepare.”
“Mr. Jukes is an intelligent man, Victor. I assure you he knows what he’s doing.”
Victor shook his head. More delays. More inaction.
Simona stepped back out into the hallway. “This door will remain locked at all times. If you need anything, use the holopad there on the nightstand. Someone will assist you.”
“So I’m a prisoner here?”
“We’re keeping you here for your own safety. The LTD doesn’t know you’re here, and we want to keep it that way.” She punched the code into the wall and sealed the door without another word.
That evening a group of technicians came and administered a lie detector test. Victor didn’t object; he had nothing to hide. Once they had all the patches and sensors on him, however, he began to worry that the machine would misinterpret his brain activity somehow and conclude he was deceiving them. Then he feared that all the anxiety he felt over this possibility would skew the results even further. When the machine finished, the technicians said nothing and packed up the equipment.
“What were the results?” he asked.
“Don’t know,” said the tech. “We administer the test. Someone else reads it.”
The test must have strengthened his case because the next morning small groups of people began visiting him every hour. Engineers. Psychologists. Biologists. Victor answered their questions as best as he could, though more often than not he had no answer to give. No, he hadn’t seen the ship up close. No, he didn’t know how many hormigas were inside.
He could tell many of them were skeptical. They listened intently and took studious notes, but some had a hard time hiding their disbelief and disdain. A few of them returned for a second, third, and fourth time, repeating the same questions over and over again.
By the fourth day
Victor was losing his patience. “I’ve already answered these questions multiple times,” he told them. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to catch me in a lie. You’re throwing in details I didn’t give you to see if I’ll notice or change my story. You’re desperately looking for signs of deception because some of you are so pompous and wrapped up in your own self-importance that you can’t accept the fact that a man without all your college degrees could possibly know something you don’t.”
Some of the scientists laughed. Others scoffed and stormed out. Victor didn’t care. He preferred to be alone anyway.
On the fifth day it happened. Simona came to the apartment with Imala, who was so relieved to see Victor that she embraced him. “They’ve been drilling me for days,” she said. “I can only assume you were getting the same.” She smiled at him. “They found it, Victor. Prescott and Yanyu found it.”
Simona set her holopad on the table and extended the bars in the corners. A live news broadcast projected in the field. Ukko stood at a lectern crested with the Juke corporate logo. Behind him, clustered together, was a crowd of people, most of whom had come to Victor’s apartment in the past few days. Prescott was among them, as was Yanyu.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” said Ukko. “Citizens of Earth and Luna. We are not alone in the universe.”
Victor felt a weight lift. In that one sentence, his task was complete. The burden was someone else’s now. He was free.
Cameras flashed as Ukko continued. “An intelligent and hostile alien species is at this moment approaching Earth in a ship unlike anything we’ve ever seen.” He gestured to his left, where a holofield resided above a platform. The alien ship appeared, suspended in space. “This holo and others I supplied to STASA this morning leave no doubt in my mind that our planet is in grave danger.” The alien ship minimized, and Yanyu’s wreckage from the Belt appeared. “Dedicated members of my staff have discovered evidence that this alien vessel is responsible for the destruction of an unknown number of mining vessels in the Asteroid Belt and beyond. We fear the loss of human life may already be in the thousands. We can also prove definitively that this alien ship is the cause of the communications interference that has crippled space commerce for months. My team is tracking the ship as we speak, and if its current rate of deceleration continues, it will reach Earth in approximately eleven days.”
Earth Afire (The First Formic War) Page 13
