Earth Awakens (The First Formic War) (35 page)

Bingwen frowned. “She worries about you. If she’s a friend, it would be nice to call her. I think she would like that.”

“You’ve talked to her a lot?”

“Every day for the past week. She’s the best doctor we have in the clinic. By far. Why are you smiling?”

“Because you know what makes a good doctor. I don’t think I knew that when I was eight years old. I probably would have based that judgment on who gave the fewest shots.”

“It’s how they treat people,” said Bingwen. “Some doctors are kind, but others are … I don’t know the word in English. Not mean, but—”

“Brusque?”

“I don’t know that word.”

“Impatient? Callous? Cold?”

“Cold? That means something other than temperature?”

“It means they don’t seem nice.”

“Right. They don’t seem nice. They’re scientific about treating people.”

“You don’t know the multiple definitions of cold, but you know the word ‘scientific’?”

Bingwen shrugged. “Some words stick, some words don’t.”

“So Kim is one of the nice ones?” said Mazer.

“The nicer of the nice ones.”

“Nic
est,
” corrected Mazer. “Nicer is for two. Nicest is the superlative.”

“I don’t know what ‘su-per-lative’ means. Stop using words I don’t know.”

Mazer nodded. “Give me a list of all the words you don’t know, and I’ll be sure not to use them.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Bingwen. “Your Chinese is awful.”

“I thought I did okay.”

“You talk Chinese as well as Mongo did.”

“Who was Mongo?”

“Our family water buffalo.”

“Your English is better than my Chinese. I’ll give you that.”

“So you will call Kim?”

Mazer took a breath. “It’s complicated, Bing. When you get older life gets more complicated.”

“I think she loves you. Like how my mother loved my father. She didn’t say that to me. But she does.”

She did. Mazer knew she did. She had told him so. Just once. But it was enough. He thought of that moment often. They had gone to the salt marshes of Manukau Harbor. She had wanted to see the thousands of migratory godwits who had gathered there to feed. He and Kim had stood in one of the many wooden towers built along the shore for birdwatchers. Mazer had brought her a pair of military binoculars.

“They’ll fly over eleven thousand kilometers without taking a single break,” Kim had said.

“Sounds like the military,” Mazer had said.

“From here to northern China and then on to Alaska and back. The longest single flight of any species.”

A salty breeze was blowing in from the water, lifting her hair away from the nape of her neck. The air smelled of brine and mud and eelgrass. The song of thousands of chittering godwits was not as loud as Mazer had thought it would be. And he marveled at how they moved on the water, lifting together as a single unit, undulating in the air like a giant wave as they shifted, circled back, landed, and took to the air again, like a single organism with a thousand different sets of eyes.

“They’re monogamous, you know?” Kim had said. “All that flying, all that distance; tens of thousands of them crammed into a small space like this, all of them looking exactly alike. And yet somehow they snuggle up next to their mate at day’s end. Somehow they find each other.”

“In Maori culture, the birds are the messengers of the gods,” Mazer had said. “Legend has it that the first of our people came here in a fleet of
waka,
or canoes, following the flight of the godwits. They were the guides the gods had given us. There’s a song about it that the children sing.”

“Do you know it?”

“Most of it.”

“Let’s hear it.”

He laughed. “What, you want me to sing it? Now?”

“We’re alone. I won’t laugh, I swear. I think it’s fascinating. You don’t talk about this kind of stuff. Your culture, I mean. I want to know about it.”

“It’s a children’s song, Kim. It’s in Maori.”

“I’ll never ask you to sing anything ever again. I promise.”

He had felt silly, but there was such pleading in her eyes that he had acquiesced and sung it. He had even done the hand motions: the paddling canoes and the flapping and swooping of the godwits. She had watched his every move, the corners of her mouth curling up into a smile. When he finished, her eyes were misted with tears and she had told him that she loved him. The words had come out of her almost in a whisper.

He had not expected it. But to hear her say it was like lightning in his chest.

He didn’t know how to respond. Did he love her as well? And if he did, what were the consequences of him saying so?

The silence between them had lingered.

She wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t expect you to say anything, Mazer. I know you’re not ready to say those words. But when you are, if that moment ever comes, say them to me in Maori.”

Two weeks later he had left for China.

Bingwen was watching him. “You’re thinking of her right now, aren’t you?”

“I’m glad you got to speak with her, Bingwen. That makes me very happy. She’s a very special person to me, and so are you. When my friends become friends, I’m happy.”

Bingwen had smiled and was about to say something when a voice from the holotable filled the room.

“Greetings, gentlemen. My name is Lem Jukes. Thank you for returning our holo.”

The man’s head and torso appeared above the holotable. He gestured to his right and motioned others to join him in the holofield. “Victor, Imala, join me in here please. Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Imala Bootstamp and Victor Delgado, the team that has infiltrated the Formic ship and who will lead this effort.” Lem looked at something slightly to the left. “Thank you for setting up cameras on your end. We see you have everyone gathered.”

Wit went through the introductions, leaving Mazer and Bingwen for the end.

“Thank you for connecting us, Bingwen,” said Imala.

There was a time delay that took some getting used to. Wit and Lem kept talking over each other, realizing too late that they were doing it, and then they would stop and restart again. But soon they got into a rhythm. And once the Luna team began their presentation, things went much faster.

Lem showed them several vids from inside the Formic ship that featured the cargo bay, sleep chamber, garden, launch tubes, narrow passageways, and helm. Victor then described how he and Imala had reached the ship, and Lem went into detail about what resources he could offer in terms of weapons, suits, whatever the team needed.

“We’re a large group,” said Wit. “We obviously can’t fit in the shuttle Victor and Imala used. How do you propose getting us to the ship?”

“Using the same principle,” said Lem. “We put you in a ship, disguise it to look like flotsam drifting harmlessly through space, and you float right up to the hull of the mothership. However, since there are so many of you, we obviously can’t put you all in a single shuttle. Even if we packed you in like sardines, the shuttle would be too big and too conspicuous. The Formics would notice it, even if you were moving slowly and weren’t on a collision course.”

“Loading all of us into single ship is a bad idea anyway,” said Cocktail. “If something were to happen to the shuttle, the entire strike team would be lost. That’s putting all of your eggs in a single basket.”

“Agreed,” said Lem. “It’s safer to split you up. In fact, we propose putting each of you in your own individual vessel.”

A schematic appeared in the holofield. It was a small tube-shaped ship with the outline of a prostrate man inside of it—not unlike a coffin or a sleep chamber. “We call them ‘cocoons,’” said Lem. “Our engineers are building them now. As you can see, there’s only enough room for a single passenger. And it’s a tight squeeze. You won’t be able to move much at all, but that’s for your own safety. The smaller the cocoon, the less likely it will be tagged as a collision threat. We’ll attach small electrodes to your muscles to keep them active as you drift.”

“How many of these cocoons are you building?” asked Wit.

“Twelve,” said Lem. “Victor will go in one, plus eleven from your party. But we recommend that all of you come to Luna. You’ll need to train for a couple days to get used to maneuvering in a zero-G environment, and not everyone excels at that. We recommend that those who do well in zero-G constitute the strike team.”

ZZ said, “If twelve identical pieces of wreckage float toward the ship, won’t the Formics notice that?”

“They won’t be identical,” said Lem.

Random pieces of scrap metal began attaching themselves to the exterior of the cocoon in the holofield.

“Each cocoon will be uniquely disguised to look like wreckage. We’ll use the same approach Victor and Imala did. Paint, scorch marks, torn metal, broken conduit, whatever we can scrounge up. Some of you will be flat. Some of you will be bent forward slightly. We’re randomizing the shape, too. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a flat one.”

Lem reached forward with his hands and rotated the schematic, giving them a better view of the small propulsion systems at the rear and sides of the vessel. “To further save on room, we’re not including any flight controls or avionics. Instead, the cocoons will be remotely controlled. All you’ll have to do is climb inside, and our drone pilots will do the rest.”

“Even with those adjustments,” said Deen. “Twelve pieces of flotsam doesn’t seem very inconspicuous. It worked for Victor and Imala because they were one piece of scrap. Twelve is a lot more than one.”

“Consider the size of the thing,” said Mazer. “It’s enormous. The cocoons could come from all sides and angles. And we could stagger their arrival over the period of a day or more so everyone isn’t getting there at the same moment. In fact, depending on how we design the op and the individual objectives, arriving at different times is best anyway. The first wave infiltrates the ship. A second wave secures and holds the passageways. A third wave takes the cargo bay. Et cetera.”

“That’s the idea,” said Lem. “And our shipbuilding crews intend to help in another way as well. Your twelve cocoons won’t be the only pieces of wreckage approaching the ship. For the Formics to ignore you, you must blend in with the environment. But you can’t be invisible if you’re the only things
in
the environment. So we’re making at least three hundred other remote-controlled projectiles to create a sea of wreckage around the Formic ship that we completely control. These mini floaters will be smaller than the cocoons in most instances, but collectively they’ll create a haze of wreckage for you to drift through.”

“Beyond that,” said Victor, “the mini floaters will also allow us to test the sensitivity of the Formics’ collision-avoidance system. In other words, if the Formics start firing at anything that twitches, regardless of how slow it’s moving, we’ll know we need to reevaluate our approach.”

“When will these cocoons be ready?” asked Wit. “And for that matter, how quickly can you build three hundred remote-controlled projectiles?”

“We have an entire production line dedicated to this effort,” said Lem. “It’s the largest such facility of its kind in the world. I have a warehouse full of people who are working around the clock. My father is putting the weight and resources of his company behind this. Juke Limited is committed to ending this war. We’ve built a shield of ships between Earth and the Formic mothership. Now we’re ready to end this once and for all. That is, if you’ll join us.”

“You’ve told us how you’ll get us there,” said Wit. “What happens next? Arriving is only the beginning. You said you had discovered a vulnerability?”

“That is the carrot we’ll leave dangling,” said Lem. “Agree to work with us, and we’ll show you how to cripple the ship and kill everyone on board. Otherwise, we’ll take this strategy to another strike force. There are others we can approach, but our strong preference is to work with you.”

“We need to debate this among ourselves,” said Wit. “But if we agree, how would we get to Luna, and how quickly could we make this happen?”

“Give me a verbal commitment, and I will send an aircraft to retrieve you and carry you to one of our launch sites in Finland.”

“How will you retrieve us?” said Wit. “We’re in the middle of a war zone. The skies aren’t safe.”

“Let us coordinate that. China is being more agreeable to opening its air space, and Juke has aircraft throughout Southeast Asia. The logistics we can work out. Our priority now is cementing the strike team. We will await your answer.”

The Luna team said their farewells, and Wit disconnected the call.

“Well?” asked Wit. “What does everyone think?”

The room was quiet a moment then ZZ said, “I’m not crazy about those cocoons. No movement. No flight controls. I’m not claustrophobic, but I think I would be after a few hours. And what do we do if our suit malfunctions? Or if the remote controls fail? Float off into oblivion? Asphyxiate? We can’t exactly call for help. We’ll be far away from each other. The moment we rush to another’s aid, our cover is blown and the Formics start shooting.”

“We wouldn’t be able to defend ourselves either,” said Cocktail. “I don’t like that. We’d be floating targets. And not just for a brief amount of time either. It will take us days to float to the ship if we’re drifting at a negligible speed. And it’s not the boredom that bothers me. It’s knowing that I could be vaporized at any moment. That would drive me insane. I think the concept is brilliant, but if the Formics were wise to us it would be like shooting fish in a barrel, and we’d be the fish.”

“I agree,” said Lobo. “The cocoons are loco. But they’re also an idea that might, actually, God willing, work. I’m not too keen on the idea of climbing inside one either, but I feel better knowing they’re being built by Juke. This is the most advanced ship manufacturer in the world we’re talking about. If anyone can do this, they can.”

“I’m with Lobo,” said Mazer. “Lem Jukes strikes me as a little too arrogant for his own good, but there’s no denying the fact that the man has resources. No government on Earth makes as big a commitment to space tech and engineering as Juke Limited. Better suits. Better life-support systems. And their shipbuilders live and breathe this world. They understand the conditions, they know the physics. If they say they can build a cocoon that will look like a hunk of harmless junk, I believe them. I agree with Cocktail and ZZ that the cocoons have their drawbacks, but there’s no golden solution here. Any approach is going to be high risk.