Earth Awakens (The First Formic War)

by Orson Scott Card

Then the world faded. Blackness crept in from all sides. For a moment he thought he was dead. But no, he could still feel the heat, he could still hear his own wheezy, labored breaths. His eyes had stopped working. That was all. There was a word for this condition, this blackness. A simple word. He knew it. It was right there in front of him. He blinked and squinted and blinked again—an action that took enormous effort—but he still saw only darkness.

  “His blood pressure is dropping fast,” said a voice.

  “Captain, it’s Deen. We’re going to sing you a cadence. That’s what moves a soldier. Isn’t that what you always said, sir? The beat moves the feet. The feet moves the man. The man moves the world.”

  Yes, thought Wit. He had said that. Many times. A marching cadence. Yes, that’s what he needed.

  “It’s a cadence you taught us, sir. One you learned in the SEALs.”

  The SEALs, thought Wit. I am a SEAL. Before I became a MOP I trained as a SEAL. The memory made him smile.

  Deen began, leading the group, shouting each line alone in the singsongy rhythm of the cadence. The others echoed him, shouting as one.

  “Heyyyyyy there, Army!”

  “Heyyyyyy there, Army!”

  “Backpacking Army!”

  “Backpacking Army!”

  “Pick up your packs and follow me!”

  “Pick up your packs and follow me!”

  “We are the Sons of UDT!”

  “We are the Sons of UDT!”

  Wit smiled and gripped the wheel. He had sung those words a thousand times during Hell Week, the most rigorous, painful, five and half days of his SEAL training. He had thought he would die at the time. He had never experienced such physical exertion, such pain, such relentless battering to his body. But the song, the song had steeled him. The song, sung by brothers, had carried him through. It had carried them all through. For twenty-four months of backbreaking training, it had carried them through.

  The Sons of UDT. That’s what the SEALs were. The Underwater Demolition Team was the precursor special commando unit to the SEALs. The UDT had been the crazy ones, the pioneers of combat swimming, from World War II through Vietnam. The cadence was a message to every other branch of the military. Come. Run alongside us, fight with us, whatever you can do, we can do as well. Sea, land, air. We are the sons of the UDT.

  Deen didn’t stop. He knew every verse. Sing, Deen, Wit wanted to say. Sing for me.

  “Heyyyyy there, Marine Corps!”

  “Heyyyyy there, Marine Corps!”

  “Bullet-sponge Marine Corps!”

  “Bullet-sponge Marine Corps!”

  “Pick up your steps and run with me!”

  “Pick up your steps and run with me!”

  “We are the Sons of UDT!”

  “We are the Sons of UDT!”

  It was not about physical strength, Wit reminded himself. It was 90 percent mental, 10 percent physical. That’s what the SEAL instructors were looking for: men and women who could disregard the pleadings of the body. Pain was nothing, sleep was nothing. What was freezing water to a SEAL mind? What was chaffed skin, wrecked muscles, bleeding sores? The body chooses to be sore. The body chooses to be exhausted. But the SEAL mind rejects it. The SEAL mind commands the body, not the other way around.

  The wheel was nothing. The radiation was nothing. The blood in his nose and throat and gums and bowels was nothing. The heat was nothing. The Formics were nothing. They were bugs to be squished, bugs to be stepped upon.

  He tried turning it again. It wouldn’t obey. The beat of the cadence was like the beat of a drum. He hawked up another globule of blood, spat to the corner of his helmet, and tried turning it again. His arm was going to rip out of its socket. Fine. Take my arm. I have another. And here take my leg, I have another one of those, too. And here take my torso, take it all. But you can’t have my mind. I am a son of the UDT. I am a son of David and Jeanine O’Toole. I am a son of Earth. And you, you bug-eyed bastards, cannot have my mind.

  He pulled, he twisted, he grit his bleeding teeth. Something broke inside him, something snapped or came loose. A muscle perhaps, or a ligament, or bone. Wit ignored it. He pulled, straining, screaming, burning in the darkness.

  The wheel turned. An inch at first. But then more.

  Two inches. Three. Six. Twelve.

  “Heyyyyyy there, Navy!”

  “Heyyyyyy there, Navy!”

  “World’s finest Navy!”

  “World’s finest Navy!”

  “Set a course and follow me!”

  “Set a course and follow me!”

  “We are the sons of UDT!”

  “We are the sons of UDT!”

  CHAPTER 24

  Landers

  The gamma plasma disappeared. The tunnel of light was gone. Imala responded immediately and spun away, getting clear. She had been in a slow drift for over an hour and it had become harder and harder to stay within the tunnel. Four more kilometers, and she would have collided with the ship. That was far, far too close.

  She punched the rockets and took off, accelerating away as fast as she could, the G-forces slamming her against her seat.

  “I’m clear,” she said over the radio. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Vico, but I’m clear.”

  * * *

  Inside the sealed launch tube, Victor and the others stared at Wit’s biometrics on the holopad. All of the numbers had dropped to zero. The heart monitor was a flat line. The flashing message that had beeped and warned of an impending fatality had gone silent. Deen and the others had stopped singing. There was no need to continue anymore.

  Imala’s voice crackled over the radio. She was clear. She was alive. She was laughing. She didn’t yet know what had happened.

  Before anyone could speak, another transmission came. “Acknowledge. Acknowledge. Repeat. If you can hear me, Victor, acknowledge.”

  It was Lem. Victor wiped his holopad clear and popped up the holo antennas in the four corners. Lem’s head appeared before them.

  “Lem. It’s Victor. We read you.”

  “Where the hell have you have been? I’ve been hailing you for ten minutes.”

  “You weren’t getting through. It was the radiation. We’ve taken the ship.”

  “Yes, well the Formics know that and now they’re coming to take it back. Both landers have launched from Earth. Every Formic on the planet climbed back inside the landers, and now they’re coming for you. All of them.”

  The landers? Victor looked at the faces of the others. No one said a word.

  “Our shatter boxes are useless,” said Lem. “They won’t initiate unless they’re exactly opposite each other, and the cables aren’t long enough to get on opposing sides of the lander obviously. Our lasers aren’t doing much better. We’re leaving scratches and scorch marks and that’s it. The landers’ shields must be down, but we don’t have the firepower to take advantage.”

  “Are you still in the Valas?” asked Victor.

  “I’m in my fighter,” said Lem. “I’m with ships of the shield. We’re tracking with the landers, coming your way, but we can’t stop them. Nothing can stop them.”

  “We can’t let them reattach to the ship,” said Mazer. “If that happens, they’ll retake it. It’s over.”

  “They’ll retake it,” said Deen, “but they can’t go anywhere. We scuttled it.”

  “They’ll repair it,” said Mazer. “They’ll kill us, fix the ship, and get right back to taking Earth.”

  “What about a nuke from Earth?” said Victor. “If their shields are down—”

  “Won’t work,” sad Lem. “None of us are armed with nukes. If we had a military fleet already out here, it would be a different story, but we don’t. We’ve got a few mining ships with a few useless weapons. I’m sorry. Maybe we can reach you first and get you out in time.”

  “I’m not leaving,” said Mazer. “We took this ship and we’re holding it.”

  “How?” asked Shenzu.

  “We destroy the landers
before they reattach,” said Mazer. “This ship is a weapon. We use it against them. We’ve done it once. Let’s do it again.”

  They all looked at Victor.

  “Is that possible?” asked Shenzu.

  Victor thought a moment. “Maybe. If we can leave the launch tube and get back inside the ship. Benyawe, what are the radiation levels?”

  “They’ve plummeted ever since Wit cut the gamma plasma. And they’re dropping further by the second. It’s nearly ventilated. In a few minutes, we could probably go back inside.”

  “Probably?” said Shenzu. “I’d like something a little more definitive than ‘probably.’”

  “If Benyawe says we’ll be fine, we’ll be fine,” said Victor. “And I’m with Mazer. We should hold the ship and destroy the landers, if we can.”

  “What are we suggesting here?” said Shenzu. “Fire gamma plasma at the ship? We can’t do that. If we open the gamma plasma again, we’ll send radiation back into the ship through the rotated nozzles. We’d kill ourselves.”

  “So we rotate the nozzles back again,” said Victor.

  “Flip them back around?” said Deen.

  “I know how to roll the ship,” said Victor. “The apertures in that area are still open. No one has closed them. If we turn the gamma plasma back on, those same nozzles will fire and no others. I’ll go to the helm and rotate us so we’re pointing those nozzles at the landers when they arrive. Then I turn the wheel and we blast it.”

  “You’ll only hit one of them,” said Mazer. “You won’t hit both. Can you rotate the ship fast enough after you hit the first one to slice through the second one?”

  “Probably not,” said Victor. “The other lander would simply change course and avoid it.”

  “So we need another way to take out the second lander,” said Shenzu.

  “A way they don’t anticipate,” said Benyawe.

  “We don’t have any other weapons,” said Deen.

  “Yes,” said Mazer. “We do. We have the launch tubes. Each is like the barrel of a gun. Victor, you knew how to seal off the tubes and open them. Do you also know how to launch something in them as well?”

  “I watched the Formics do it,” said Victor. “I studied the mechanism. Yes. We can launch something.”

  “What exactly?” said Deen. “Last time I checked we didn’t have a giant bullet in our ammo packs.”

  “The ship debris from the cargo bay,” said Mazer. “We load a bunch a scrap into the tubes and we fire it like shrapnel.”

  “Won’t that just bounce off the lander?” said Deen.

  “The launch tubes are extremely powerful,” said Victor. “And I know how to increase the tension in the springs. It would fire like a cannon. It would rip through anything.”

  “Theoretically,” said Deen.

  “There’s no guarantee of anything, if that’s what you mean,” said Victor. “But I think it could work.”

  “How do we move ship debris from the cargo bay to the tubes?” asked Shenzu.

  “The same way the Formics move anything big,” said Mazer. “We use the big carts. Victor showed us the passageway. From here to the cargo bay isn’t far. There won’t be any resistance. The debris is all weightless. We could move it easily if we work together.

  “There are eight of us,” said Deen. “How are we supposed to do all of this before the landers arrive?”

  “Victor goes to the helm,” said Mazer. “The rest of us go to the cargo bay and start turning nozzles. When the nozzles are ready, we load as much wreckage into the big carts as we can carry and hurry back here. Then we load the tubes and we’re in business.”

  “I’ll need a pair of eyes,” said Victor. “Someone will have to go back outside and lie flat against the hull. They’ll have to help me aim and tell me when to fire. I don’t know how to use the Formics’ targeting system.”

  “I can do that,” said Deen. “I won’t be much use in the cargo bay with these legs. I have to be helpful somehow. Victor could carry me outside and anchor me down before he goes to the helm.”

  “I can do that,” Victor agreed. He turned to Lem in the holopad. “We’re going to need some time, Lem. Can you stall the landers?”

  “That’s like asking a bunch of dragonflies to stop a passenger jet,” said Lem.

  “There are other ships,” said Victor. “Call them all. Every ship in your father’s fleet in near-Earth orbit. Every ship on Luna. Get the Valas involved. Get them all involved.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” said Lem. “But hurry. We won’t be able to hold them for long. If at all.” He disconnected.

  “Benyawe,” said Victor. “What are the radiation levels now?”

  “Low enough,” she said. “We’re good to go.”

  “Then let’s move,” said Mazer.

  They flew down to the bottom of the tube where there was a small airlock. Mazer opened it and led the group through. Victor and Deen stayed behind and watched Mazer lead the others into the passageway that led to the cargo bay. When they had disappeared, Victor said, “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  Deen smiled. “Hey, I got the cake job. I lie around and give you orders. That’s like being on holiday. Plus I get a front-row seat to all the fireworks.”

  Victor flew him back up to the top. They removed the manhole Wit had cut and climbed back outside. They found a spot on the surface of the ship halfway between the launch tube and rotated nozzles. Victor lowered Deen to the hull and laid him gently on his back, anchoring him in place with disc magnets that he secured to Deen’s belt.

  When he was done, Victor pulled on the magnets, testing their strength. “There. You’re not going anywhere.”

  Deen was hugging his rifle to his chest. “How am I supposed to direct you in rotating the ship?”

  Victor pulled out his holopad and turned on the field. A model of the Formic ship appeared in the air. Victor made four quick moves with his stylus, and three axes appeared, skewering the ship. “Here’s the ship,” he said, pointing. “X axis, y axis, z axis. Here’s where the nozzles are.” He tapped the ship in the holo and illuminated the area. “This holo feeds to my HUD. Spin the ship with your hands to align it with whatever is coming. I’ll do my best to mimic your movements. I’ll also be watching through your helmetcam, but I’ll need verbal cues from you as well. You need to tell me when I’m tracking with the target. I can’t remain stationary and wait for them to fly over the line of fire. I need to be rotating and keeping the target in the line of fire when I pull the trigger. I can’t miss that way.”

  “Tell you when you’re tracking,” said Deen. “Got it. Anything else?”

  “If I miss, shoot down the landers with your rifle.”

  Deen smiled. “I’m good. But I’m not that good.”

  Victor extended his hand. “Good luck.”

  Deen shook his hand. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it, space born. When it’s time to kill, it’s all in the skill. Shoot straight, brother. And let’s all go home.”

  Victor left him there and returned to the manhole. He flew down the launch tube and crawled under the base of the tube. He found the mechanism that increased the force of the launch and began fiddling with it to set it to maximum power.

  “Vico. It’s Imala, can you hear me?”

  Her voice was a like a blanket of calm in his ear. “I’m here, Imala.”

  “I’ve got us on a private line,” she said. “I’ve been listening. I’m sorry about Wit and the others. What can I do?”

  “You can get clear, Imala. Head back to Luna. I’d feel much better if I knew you were safe.” He was using the wrenches he had brought for the nozzles. They’re weren’t the best tools for the job, but they were all he had.

  “I can help stop the landers,” said Imala.

  “You don’t have any weapons, Imala. We covered your collision-avoidance lasers with shielding plates. You’re nothing but a flashing hunk of metal at this point.”

  “You say that to all the girls.”


  “I’m serious, Imala. Please. At least one of us needs to get out, to tell everyone what happened here.”

  “Don’t talk like that. Like you’re giving up.”

  “I’m not giving up, Imala. But I’m also keenly aware of what we’re up against here. If we don’t make it, this war needs to go on. People need to learn from our mistakes. You can help them.”

  There was silence on the line for a long moment. “All right,” she said. “I’ll go back.”

  “Will you? Or are you only saying what I want to hear?”

  She didn’t answer directly. “Stay safe, Vico. If you need anything, I’m here on the line.”

  He finished with the launch tube. Then he moved to an adjacent tube and did the same. When he was done, he spray painted a giant “X” on the hatch of each tube so that Mazer would know which ones had been set. Then he gathered his tools and flew to the helm.

  The lights from his helmet swept the helm when he arrived. He saw the Formics first, floating in the space, their four arms limp at their sides. He pushed one out of his way and there was Wit, still at the wheel. Victor launched to him and turned him over. Wit’s face was red, blistered, and covered in blood. Victor gave Wit’s hand a squeeze. “Vaya a Dios, y al cielo más allá de éste.” It’s what his family always said when someone passed on. Go to God, and to the heaven far above this one.

  He released Wit’s hand and gripped the wheel. He blinked out a command and brought up the model of the ship with the three axes, the one in Deen’s hand. Next came Deen’s helmetcam feed. He pushed that over into the corner of his field of vision and waited.

  * * *

  Mazer turned a few nozzles in the cargo bay, but it quickly became apparent that everyone was much faster at the task than he was. They had done it before; he hadn’t. They moved with confidence; he moved with caution. He was only getting in their way.

  He left Benyawe in charge of the effort and launched back across the bay to the shaft they had just exited, the one that led back to the launch tubes. They had found several large carts along the way, and they had pushed them all here for loading. The question now was: How would they move the pieces of wreckage floating in the middle of the bay to the shaft? There was nothing to anchor their feet to in the middle of the room. They couldn’t launch to the wreckage, and expect to launch back. Everything was a free-floating object. They wouldn’t have any leverage.