The Swarm: The Second Formic War

by Orson Scott Card

  Which planted another question in Wila’s mind: Were the silicon-producing worms genetic derivatives of the Formics? Is that why the Hive Queen could so easily engineer them, because they were genetically similar to her own makeup? Were all the creatures the Hive Queen made derived from the Formic species? It was an interesting proposition, and one that Wila would have to explore at another time. Right now the focus was the silicon-producing worms.

  Her mind returned to the sea sponge, which wove silicon dioxide into a structure. Was it conceivable, she thought, that the Hive Queen could engineer an organism that essentially did the same thing? A worm or creature of some sort that could ingest pure silicon and then weave it into some structure, excreting it out the back end in a continuous woven strand? Was that the reason for organizing the metals into pellets: to prepare the pellets for consumption? To make them easy for a creature to swallow them?

  And then another thought hit her. If the worms had the ability to break down minerals in their gut and separate the various elements, was it also conceivable that a second creature could do the opposite? Could a second creature ingest silicon and other pellets of metal and combine them in the gut to form a unique compound or superalloy? If a worm could destroy and break apart, could another worm be engineered to assemble and build?

  Five minutes ago she would have considered the idea ludicrous. Now the notion seemed conceivable. Maybe even likely. The Formic miniships that had reached these asteroids were tiny vessels capable of carrying only a few Formics and supplies. There was no room for drilling machines and building machines. There were the Formics and the worms. So the question that demanded an answer was: What could the Formics possibly accomplish with so little staff and supplies?

  Wila felt certain she now had an answer. Or at least a possible theory. And the more she considered it, the more likely it seemed. The contents of the Formic miniship were all the supplies needed to turn an asteroid into a factory. Everything was there: raw materials, tools to harvest those raw materials, and maybe creatures that turned that raw material into something.

  But if that were true, she thought, if the Formics were using those materials to build, why hadn’t Victor found any construction outside the asteroid? And how could creatures build something in the vacuum of space anyway?

  Because they’re not building outside the asteroid, thought Wila. They’re building inside it. The Formics were tunnelers. They would tunnel. And those tunnels would lead somewhere. A central place. A nucleus. A core. But what would they be building? A habitat? A space station? A hatchery?

  She set her tablet aside, sat in the lotus position on the bench, folded her hands in her lap, and closed her eyes, allowing herself to go into deep mediation now. Was this the way of enlightenment for the Hive Queen? Is this how she hoped to achieve the fully conscious mind and to connect herself with all creatures of the universe? By engineering them? By assembling them to her own desired specifications? By playing God?

  Wila wasn’t sure if she, as a Buddhist, should find the idea fascinating or revolting. On one hand it aligned with Buddhist doctrine, but on the other hand it perverted it. The fully conscious mind was omnipotent, yes, with effortless power to do whatever needed to be done to benefit all life in the universe. But what were the boundaries of this pursuit? When did the righteous quest for enlightenment cross over into something evil? The Hive Queen appeared to be connecting with all creatures in the universe, but only because she was eradicating all those who could not hear her voice. Was that her goal? Did she intend to replace all creatures with only those philotically linked with her, thus allowing her, by definition, to achieve the omnipotent mind?

  It was wrong. It was fanatical. It was corrupt and twisted and profane, and Wila wanted to believe that the Hive Queen simply didn’t understand, that her alien mind saw a perspective that Wila could not yet see.

  And yet there was no excuse for the destruction the Hive Queen had caused. How could she get so close to enlightenment while violating its foundational principle of fostering peace, compassion, and harmony among all species? It was as if the Hive Queen found herself at two ends of the spectrum. On one end she was the greatest example of the awakened, fully conscious mind. But on the other end, she was the most dispassionate, soulless murderer ever conceived.

  Wila was not sure how long she sat there and meditated. Two hours? Three? She would miss the staff meeting with Dr. Dublin, but she wanted to feel right about where her mind had taken her. She wanted to feel at peace. And so she considered her theories from every angle and possibility, taking them apart bit by bit and analyzing every piece. She replayed Victor’s vids in her mind. She pictured the ice slug. Would the slug that mined silicon look the same? And what about the creatures that would use that silicon? What might they build with it? A habitat? A nursery? A throne for the queen?

  And then she pictured the Hive Queen, the alpha of her species. She would be beautiful and horrible, majestic and terrifying, glorious and nightmarish. Do you hear me? Wila asked with her mind. Lady. Ruler. Queen of your kind. Can you sense my reaching? Do my philotes entwine with yours? Is there even a single thread between us? If so, feel my desire for peace.

  Wila waited but heard nothing. Felt nothing.

  Then she picked up her tablet, straightened her robes, and walked down the corridor toward Dr. Dublin’s office, bowing courteously to everyone she passed.

  CHAPTER 22

  TAGAT

  Ansible transmission between the Hegemon and Polemarch, Office of the Hegemony Sealed Archives, Imbrium, Luna, 2118

  * * *

  KETKAR: Dividing the Fleet is a mistake. Moving our ships outside the ecliptic is even more of a mistake. What you’re suggesting is suicide.

  UKKO: There are numerous reasons why we should strike now. We’ve been over this many times. I am not alone in this position. Most of the senior staff at CentCom agree with me.

  KETKAR: Most of the senior staff at CentCom are bureaucratic clods. They would agree that the world is flat if they thought you were taking that position. That’s all the IF is at that level. And I assure you, if we stage a preemptive strike against those warships, we will lose. We do not have the firepower or numbers to win, particularly if we divide the Fleet. We would be vaporized. And then what? The few ships left behind will ward off the entire Formic fleet?

  UKKO: If you won’t do this, I have an obligation to find someone who will.

  KETKAR: Who? The Russians? You’re going to give in to Russian bullying and let them dictate who leads this Fleet? You don’t want a commander, you want a lapdog.

  UKKO: I want a victory.

  Less than a week after his arraignment, Mazer was back in court to begin his trial. The five members of the jury were seated to his left, eyeing him as if they already thought him guilty. Colonel Soshi was seated beneath the seal of the International Fleet at the front of the courtroom, wearing his judge’s robes and looking irritated. “Commander Ravenshaw, because of an apparent conflict in scheduling, we were forced to move up this proceeding. Do you have any objections?”

  Ravenshaw stood at the prosecutor’s table, looking far less contemptuous than he had a week ago. “No objections, sir.”

  “Very well,” said Soshi. He turned to the jury platform. “I wish to extend a special apology to the members of the jury, who weren’t given much notice of their duty in these proceedings, but who came willingly nonetheless. Thank you for your patience, gentlemen.”

  Mazer thought that an amusing comment since the men were here only because they had been ordered to attend, and not due to any willingness on their part.

  Soshi turned back to the court. “Any housekeeping items before we begin?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Ravenshaw. “Permission to approach the bench, sir.”

  Colonel Soshi waved Ravenshaw forward, and the two of them had a whispered conversation. Mazer and Chamrajnagar exchanged a glance. The officers serving as the jury looked bored.

  Finally Ravenshaw ret
reated, and Colonel Soshi turned to the jury again. “Gentlemen, I owe you a second apology. The prosecutor has informed me that because of alleged threats to his witnesses, they have refused to testify and have recanted their sworn statements. The International Fleet, therefore, has no evidence to present in this case. As a result, the court has no choice but to acquit Captain Rackham of all charges.” Soshi turned to Mazer, his eyes narrowing. “However, I am placing a formal letter of reprimand on your record, Captain Rackham, and inviting your commanding officer to offer whatever nonjudicial punishment he deems appropriate. You may threaten people outside this court, but I will not be intimidated by some insubordinate thug who makes a mockery of our military judicial system.”

  Prem was on her feet in an instant. “Sir. You are passing judgment on Captain Rackham before a jury, claiming he has threatened witnesses and committed a serious crime, which is a completely false and unfounded accusation—”

  “Sit down, Lieutenant,” Soshi said.

  “—without one grain of evidence.”

  “I said sit down!”

  “The prosecutor doesn’t even have any witnesses to begin with. And never did.”

  Soshi banged his gavel. “You will sit down, Lieutenant, or I will find you in contempt.”

  Mazer put a gentle hand on Prem’s, and she reluctantly sat down.

  “I will also remind you, Lieutenant,” Soshi said, “that I am a colonel in the International Fleet. Your outburst and flagrant disregard for authority have earned you a letter of reprimand as well. I see that you and Captain Rackham here are well suited for one another. I will take no pleasure in drafting those letters, but I consider it my duty to identify those among us who disrespect our order, obstruct our progress, and thereby threaten the safety of the free people of Earth.” He picked up his tablet and read. “Let the record show that concerning the charges against Captain Mazer Rackham—namely espionage, aggravated assault, failure to obey a lawful order, and conduct unbecoming an officer—the court finds the defendant not guilty on all counts.”

  He struck his gavel. “Sergeant, please escort the jury out. They are excused. Thank you for your time, gentlemen. We apologize for the inconvenience Captain Rackham and Lieutenant Chamrajnagar have caused you.”

  The sergeant at arms came forward and asked that everyone stand and come to attention while he led the jury out. When they had all exited, Soshi and Ravenshaw swept from the room without a word, leaving Prem and Mazer alone in the courtroom.

  Prem shook her head, furious. “What a joke.”

  “You can get your letter expunged,” said Mazer. “There’s a recording of this proceeding. I’ll write a letter of commendation. Not everyone at JAG can be as corrupt as Soshi.”

  “I’m not worried about the letter,” said Prem. “I’m mad at this offensive display of human idiocy.”

  “It’s the outcome we wanted,” said Mazer. “More or less. Who cares if they made a show of it.”

  “I care. And they did more than make a show of it, Mazer. They implied that you had committed a crime and then basically pronounced you guilty before five senior officers. Which is deceptive and misleading and makes a mockery of the court. They didn’t have any witnesses except for Nardelli, and he wasn’t going to testify anyway. They knew we’d sink him on cross-examination. They could have dropped the charges at any moment. But no, they had to actually conduct a court-martial so that it stained your record. They did it out of spite. Then Sochi has the audacity to apologize for the inconvenience we caused the jury? Unbelievable.”

  “It’s over, Prem. That’s what matters.”

  “If these senior officers knew anything about the law, they’d know that they just witnessed a farce. Ravenshaw could’ve filed a continuance. He could’ve spoken with Soshi before the court came to session. He could’ve done any number of things. But does he? No. He pretends his witnesses were threatened and limps into court like a wounded animal, all so he and Soshi can burn you while they acquit you. They can’t acknowledge that they’re stooges and tools of higher powers, so they humiliate you in front of five senior commanders. This wasn’t justice, Mazer. And this certainly isn’t why I joined JAG.”

  “Then do something about it,” said Mazer.

  Prem shrugged. “How? I can’t fight these people.”

  “You don’t have to. That’s not your job. A soldier’s job is to learn her duty and do it as well as she is able. You want to shut these people down? Then be the best attorney you can be. Ravenshaw and Soshi will try to make your life hell, and I can’t help but feel responsible for that, but any energy you exert toward them is a waste. They’re not worth your time or attention. The only enemy is the Formics. Soshi and Ravenshaw are worms, and sooner or later all worms get stepped on. Ignore them.”

  “Aren’t you angry?”

  “I’m furious. But I’m still wearing my courtroom face.” He pointed to his flat, emotionless expression.

  She smiled, shook her head, and started packing her things. “Some lawyer I turned out to be.”

  “We won,” said Mazer. “You’re probably the only attorney at JAG with a perfect case record.”

  “You won this,” she said. “And not through legal channels, through back channels.”

  “No soldier operates alone, Prem. We did this. I owe you my thanks.” He extended a hand and she shook it.

  “So this is good-bye then?” she asked.

  “For the moment,” said Mazer. “But I’m hoping you’ll have dinner with me and Kim again once this is all over.”

  “Only if we have some of that stir-fry again. And hey, keep your eye open for my family. I have a lot of brothers and uncles in the IF.”

  “I’ll tell them you saved my bacon.”

  He saluted her, and she saluted back.

  They parted and Mazer made his way to the hospital. He texted Kim when he reached the lobby, and she met him at the big fountain ten minutes later. She was nearing the end of her shift, having worked through the night in the ER, and she looked exhausted. “I wasn’t expecting you for a couple hours,” she said. “Are they breaking for lunch already?”

  “They broke permanently,” he said. “I was acquitted.”

  She sighed, relieved, and embraced him. When they parted he saw a hint of disappointment in her smile.

  “You’re not happy,” he said. “You wanted me discharged.”

  “Is it wrong of me to want my husband safe and by my side? To have a normal job, to be out of this mess?”

  “We’re all in this mess, Kim. Not just the people in the IF. We simply have different responsibilities.” A silence stretched between them. “How are you feeling?” he finally asked. “Any more headaches?”

  Kim would always get migraines at the start of every pregnancy. A few days ago, a nagging headache had emerged, and they had both taken it as a good sign.

  She shook her head. “My cycle started this morning, Mazer. I’m most definitely not pregnant.”

  He took Kim into his arms and held her. Not pregnant. The words rattled around inside his head, but he couldn’t help but feel a small measure of relief as well. He desperately wanted a child. But the idea of Kim raising one alone while the Formics descended upon them had filled him with terror.

  Why had he worked so hard to move up the date of the court-martial? Why had he rushed to put an end to it? At the time it had seemed like the logical course of action. It was the soldier in him. When there’s a problem, you fix it as soon as possible. You tear down the obstacle and you advance toward your objective. But now that rationale seemed shortsighted because now he had no legitimate legal reason to stay on Luna with Kim. Their time had been so brief, and now, when she needed his support the most, he was suddenly eligible for reassignment.

  “I should have let them drag it out,” he said. “I should’ve let them stall. We could have had more time.”

  She ended the embrace, wiped at her eyes, and took a deep breath, doing her best to smile. “That’s not in your natur
e, Maze. You did what needed to be done. I’m fine. Really. I’m just tired. It’s been a rough night.” She paused, studying his face. “When will you report to CentCom?”

  Now that the trial was over, he would have to present himself at headquarters, where he would either receive orders to return to WAMRED or accept a new assignment.

  “I was supposed to have gone immediately,” he said. “I came here instead.”

  They both knew that anything could happen. His fate, the fate of their family, would be determined by the whim of someone else in uniform.

  “Maybe you’ll get an assignment here,” she said.

  “Doubtful.”

  “Why not? You could train soldiers. You have experience. You fought the Formics in a lot of different scenarios. Few people can say that. Maybe they’ll keep you here at CentCom, teaching new recruits. Isn’t that where the best soldiers go, into some teaching position?”

  “Decorated officers nearing retirement get teaching positions, Kim. I’m a young, court-martialed officer with a scathing letter of reprimand. The last thing the IF wants is me corrupting young soldiers.”

  Kim’s mouth became a hard line. “It isn’t fair, Mazer. After everything you’ve done for them, everything you’ve sacrificed. If not for you, Earth might belong to the Formics right now. And they treat you like a criminal? They scorn you, when all you have ever given them is your full allegiance? Why do you tolerate these people?”

  Her voice had risen, and there was a lot of foot traffic in the lobby now. A few people looked in their direction. Mazer gently took Kim’s hand and led her to a door to their right. The room was a small, dimly lit chapel, with three rows of pews and an aisle down the middle. A large backlit stained-glass window adorned the front, featuring a religiously ambiguous mosaic of flowers and plant life, the colors of which dappled the walls with spots of green and yellow and red. The pews were empty.