The Swarm

by Orson Scott Card

  Father stepped close and studied it for a long moment. “Where is this?” he finally asked.

  “Kuiper Belt. Asteroid 2030CT. Quite a distance from where Copernicus was located, which was my first question. Middle of nowhere, really. Far from any military targets. There’s no reason for it to be out there.”

  “There is a reason,” Father said. “It doesn’t want to be noticed. What’s this material surrounding it?”

  “No idea. But here, look at this second image. You can see the Formic ship anchored to the rock on the other side. It’s tiny. No bigger than the craft that took out Copernicus. Which raises the question: Where did the Formics get the material to cover an entire asteroid? They couldn’t have brought it with them. The ship doesn’t have the cargo space. That rock has a diameter of more than a kilometer at its widest point. I haven’t done the math, but I’m roughly guessing it would require over a million square meters of material to cover it. No, actually more than that because the canopy hovers away from the surface, creating a ceiling for the habitat. So that’s probably twenty to thirty percent additional surface area. And the material has to be thick enough to withstand a little abuse. Micrometeorites bombarding it occasionally and whatnot. So we’re talking about an incredible amount of material. Then there’s this filament skeletal structure holding it all together and giving it shape. No way could the Formics have brought that with them either. They must have harvested the materials from the rock. There’s no other explanation.”

  “Any idea how long it’s been there?”

  Lem shrugged. “A ship that small would have a minimal crew. Maybe half a dozen Formics at the most. And yet they built this entire canopy structure after harvesting materials. That’s a lot of digging and processing and shaping and building for a group of workers that small. I’m guessing it would have taken years.”

  “Unless there were more Formics there initially who helped build it and who have since left, leaving only this skeleton crew behind.”

  “Possibly,” said Lem. “But I’m guessing any movement of materials or troops would have been done with tiny ships like this one. Anything bigger and there’s a good chance we would have seen it.”

  “Where did you get these images?” Father asked. “A Juke miner?”

  “From Victor Delgado’s crew, if you can believe it. Which includes Imala, Edimar, and others. Victor thinks the cocoon is a recent construction, but I don’t see how.”

  “Are these the only images you have?”

  Lem nodded.

  “I’ll send this to the IF immediately. They’ll decide how to address it. You were right to bring it to me.”

  It was a dismissal.

  “So that’s it?” Lem asked.

  “What do you want?” Father asked. “Formal recognition? A medal?”

  “How about, ‘Lem, how are you? How goes the company I gave you? How have you been getting along ever since I, your father, started stealing so many of your employees?’”

  Father sighed. “Don’t be petulant, Lem. It’s unbecoming of a CEO.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a conflict of interest, Father? The Hegemony, the very organization that awards defense contracts, forms its own defense company? I’m no lawyer, but I think that may bite you in the butt someday.”

  “I have not formed a company, Lem. I have hired employees to help develop projects too sensitive for the open market.”

  “Too sensitive? I have whole departments of people with the highest level of clearance, Father. This has never been an issue before.”

  “Perhaps because what we’re developing has never been this sensitive before. I know that must rattle your curiosity to the core, Lem, but you’ll just have to trust me.”

  “What is it? A weapon? It can’t be something to breach the Formic hulls. You gave that contract to Gungsu. Which was a blunder, by the way. Their little gravity disruptor is a joke, and you know it, Father.” A thought struck him. “Unless you are developing a hull-breach weapon, but by not awarding the contract to somebody, you would have raised suspicion and showed your hand, so you awarded the contract to Gungsu as cover.”

  Though as soon as Lem had said it aloud, he realized how ridiculous the idea sounded.

  Father laughed quietly. “Really, Lem. Do you honestly think I would give billions of credits to Gungsu simply to throw people off my trail? They got the contract because they presented the best product. Personally I think it’s a relatively weak option considering the strength of the hull, but it was the best we saw—certainly better than anything your team developed.”

  “We have the solution now,” Lem said. “Benyawe showed it to me only moments ago. It doesn’t breach the hull. It opens the existing access points. Why create a new hole when there are already doors to get inside?”

  Father hesitated. “Interesting. A nonviolent approach. How very unmilitarylike. The Strategos will hate it.”

  “It’s not his decision, Father. It’s the Hegemony’s. It’s yours.”

  “This isn’t a business meeting, Lem. It’s an intelligence meeting. Didn’t they teach you that in business school: Never sell to someone who isn’t in the mood to buy.”

  To Lem’s surprise, an IF officer in full uniform opened a door at the back of the room and stepped out of Father’s study. He was quick to close the door behind him, as if concealing something inside, and looked somewhat embarrassed. “Excuse me, Mr. Jukes. I hate to interrupt, but they’re waiting.”

  Father glanced at Lem uneasily and then turned to the officer. “I’ll be there in a moment. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  The lieutenant nodded and then disappeared back inside the study.

  Who did Father have waiting in his study? Lem wondered. And why was an IF officer on hand? And in the middle of the night, no less. Whoever it was clearly had a great deal of authority to have the nerve to show impatience for the Hegemon of Earth. And if an IF officer was the liaison, it had to be someone within the IF. The lieutenant had been assigned to Father. Otherwise, if Father were meeting with anyone else, it would be a Hegemony employee on hand running the show, one of Father’s people.

  Yet the lieutenant had said “they” were waiting. So more than one. At least two. People of authority. People to whom this lieutenant reported.

  Lem understood at once. There wasn’t anyone in Father’s study, not physically anyway, other than the lieutenant perhaps. Father was in direct communication with the Strategos and the Polemarch. But how was that possible? Both men were in the Asteroid Belt. Any conversation with them would take hours. The bucket brigade system that existed for communication within the Fleet was painfully slow. It consisted of a series of relay stations set up in a line stretching from Luna to the end of the Kuiper Belt. New transmissions would be sent up and down the chain, from one station to the next until the transmission reached its destination. Having a two-way conversation could take days. And yet whoever was waiting for Father in the study had grown impatient, as if they expected the dialogue to be immediate, as if they were together in the same room, facing one another.

  “You’ve developed faster-than-light communication,” Lem said. “That’s your secret project, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve been developing. A way to communicate across vast distances instantaneously. Just like the Formics do.”

  “That would be convenient, wouldn’t it?” Father said. “But no.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Father. The Polemarch and the Strategos are waiting for you in that room. That’s why you’re still up and dressed. You’re coinciding with their wake schedule. That lieutenant is some sort of communications officer. What does he do, operate the equipment? Protect it? How is this even possible?”

  “Don’t press this matter, Lem. And stop speculating. If such tech existed, which it doesn’t, it would not be something I would discuss with you.”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier,” Lem said. “Of course this would be a military priority. How can we defeat an enemy if their commun
ication system is so much faster and better than our own? They would have the advantage in every battle. But if we had the tech as well, our best commanders could be engaged in any fight anywhere at any moment.” Lem laughed. “We sold you on the bucket brigade system. Juke built it and sold it to the Hegemony, and all the while you were developing your own, better system. And you laughed at my suggestion of throwing people off your trail.”

  “Leave this alone, Lem. You have a job to do, and I have mine.”

  “The Formics wiped out our communications in the last war with the gamma plasma. They crippled nearly every one of our satellites, leaving us blind and disconnected and disorganized. So of course we would need an indestructible communications grid. One apparently that doesn’t use satellites at all. How does it work, Father? And how can I get one?”

  “You build weapons and ships, Lem. You don’t need instant communication for that. But if you go around spreading rumors of faster-than-light communication I will have you arrested and jailed, if not shot.”

  “That means I’m right, of course,” Lem said smiling.

  “No, it means that rumors of it are a treasonous offense that will end your useful life in the Hegemony. Take that how you will, but keep your mouth shut.”

  Lem mimed zipping his mouth closed.

  “This new intelligence about the asteroid will go to the right people,” Father said. “I can promise you that. And I mean what I say, Lem. Let this go. There is nothing the Hegemony won’t do to protect the people of Earth.”

  “But why keep it a secret?” Lem asked. “Why protect it so vehemently? Why can’t people know?”

  “You have always suffered from a lack of vision, Lem. A narrow perspective. A view of only the here and now. Ignorance is why people can go to sleep at night.” He turned and moved toward his study. “You can show yourself out.”

  With that, Father went through the door and was gone.

  Lem stood there alone a moment longer, with even more questions than before. What vision am I not seeing, Father? What perspective is beyond my imagination?

  He returned to his skimmer and lifted off into the darkness, soaring over the squat buildings of Old Town.

  Instantaneous communication. It was impossible. And yet Father had figured it out, perhaps with people formerly on my payroll. He did with them what I could not.

  Maybe you’re right, Father. Maybe I do lack vision. But ignorance is not what lets me sleep at night. It’s answers. And I will not stop looking until I have them.

  CHAPTER 9

  Council

  To: vico.delgado@freebeltmail.net

  From: lem.jukes@juke.net

  Subject: Re: Formics at asteroid 2030CT

  * * *

  Vico,

  I gave my father all the information on 2030CT. Uncharacteristically, he admitted that it was important AND that he had not already known about it. He assured me that he would inform the International Fleet immediately. I assume he has already told the Polemarch and Strategos.

  I’ve looked at the charts, however. The nearest IF ship is six to eight months away from that asteroid. You could reach it within a week. I do not want to endanger your family, but time is of the essence here. The thruster the Formics have attached to the rock suggests that they intend to push it somewhere. Maybe even directly at Earth. It’s not a terribly large asteroid, but it’s large enough to wipe out millions of people on impact and disrupt weather for a generation. If the Formics were to target a densely populated area, they could annihilate four to five times the number of people we lost in the last war. Once that asteroid starts moving, the closer it gets to Earth, the harder it will be to redirect its course, especially if the Formics try to prevent us.

  There are far too many unknowns here for us to wait for the IF to arrive and conduct a thorough investigation. Someone needs to reach that rock as soon as possible and reconnoiter. Is there anyone outside the military better qualified than you? Is it not the best of good fortune for the future of our species that it was you and your family that discovered this and are in the best position to investigate it?

  I have a few Juke mining ships out in K Belt, but none of them are close enough to offer you any assistance. What I can offer I will, however. I have created an account in your name at one of my company’s financial institutions. The link is below. The transfer is complete, pending your own ID check. I hope the funds will be helpful. Obviously, you can’t use them until you reach a depot, after this recon is over, but it can help recoup any expense in fuel or materials, not to mention lost income because of the diversion.

  My only request is that you send all data you recover to me directly. Images, vids, mineral analyses, whatever. I have attached an encryption program for this purpose. Please use it. Send the data also to the IF of course, but don’t be surprised if they dither for a week, ordering you to do nothing until they reach a decision—or if some resentful and ambitious rear admiral is slow to pass it up the chain till he figures out how to use the intel to his political advantage.

  Respond and let me know what you decide, though I know you well enough to be sure that, as so many times before, you’ll take the risks and make the sacrifices necessary for the safety of Earth.

  Lem

  Victor hovered inside the small office adjacent to the helm and watched as Arjuna reread the e-mail.

  “Did you try this link?” Arjuna asked. “This account he mentions here, is that a real thing?”

  “It’s real,” said Victor. “There are two hundred thousand credits there.”

  Arjuna’s eyes widened for a moment and then he scoffed. “Typical Lem Jukes. He thinks he can wave money under our noses and buy us off.”

  “We could use the funds,” said Victor. “We need to replace the oxygen extractor.”

  “I thought you fixed it,” said Arjuna.

  “I did,” said Victor. “But I used printed parts. The polymers we have aren’t nearly as durable as after-market materials. What I’ve built should last for a while, but I’d sleep better if we had a factory-assembled OE in place.”

  “What about Mazer Rackham?” asked Arjuna. “Still no response from him?”

  “None,” said Victor, “which is strange. He’s usually very prompt with his replies, and this is obviously the most important news I’ve ever sent him.”

  Arjuna sighed and looked back at the e-mail hovering in the holofield. “So Lem Jukes is our only way of reaching anyone of authority in the IF. He says he showed it to his father. Any chance the Hegemon dismissed it? What if he didn’t pass it on to the Strategos and Polemarch? Should we try another channel of communication to be sure?”

  “We can send the images to a hotline the IF has set up for reports like this, but I’ve heard from other free miners on the nets that the chances of anything getting passed up the chain that way are low. Lem confirms that in his e-mail. There are miles of red tape and skeptics we’d have to cut through first.”

  “We could send this to the press,” said Arjuna. “They’d be all over it.”

  “And we would make the IF look like bumbling incompetents,” said Victor. “The world is already losing faith in the military, Arjuna. If people found out from the press that a Formic ship had slipped into the solar system without being detected, that’s another strike against the IF, another show of failure. You’d have political pandemonium on Earth. The IF is fragile right now. I get that sense from Mazer. They don’t need another show of weakness to crack them any further.”

  “I’m worried about you, Vico. You’re starting to sound like a politician.”

  “The International Fleet is our best chance against the Formics,” said Victor. “If we can keep them strong, we should. That helps all of us.”

  Arjuna gestured back at the e-mail. “You’re talking out of both sides of your mouth, Vico. You’re saying we should rely on the IF, but you also seem to be entertaining Lem’s proposal here that we go to this asteroid and investigate. We’re not going to do that. I’m not
putting the lives of every man, woman, and child on this ship in jeopardy for two hundred thousand credits. I say we confirm that the IF is taking this threat seriously and let them handle it.”

  “That’s the problem,” said Victor. “They can’t handle it. There isn’t anyone else out here. We’re the only ship in any position to investigate what the Formics are doing there.”

  “The Gagak is not a military vessel, Vico. We are not weaponized for combat. We can’t defend ourselves if attacked. Do you know how I have kept this family alive for years with pirates and raiders out there in the Black? By running. By never getting in a fight in the first place. If I see a threat, I run. You may call that cowardice, but I call it keeping my children alive.”

  “You ran because you had a salvage ship,” Victor said. “Light and fast and poorly shielded. You couldn’t defend yourself. You’d lose every time against pirates. But that’s not what the Gagak is now. We’ve made this one of the toughest mining vessels in the K Belt. We’ve got more shield plates on the hull than you’ll likely find on any ship in the Fleet. We’re as strong as an ox.”

  “We’re as slow as an ox, too,” said Arjuna. “With all of this iron and added mass, it takes us forever to accelerate. If the Formics were to attack, we wouldn’t be able to outrun them.”

  “I don’t think they’ll give chase,” Victor said. “They’ve anchored their ship to that asteroid. If we’re right about the area beneath the canopy being oxygenated, they’d create a hole in the canopy and lose their habitat by detaching their ship. I think it’s far more likely that they’d let us go. Or maybe scare us off. I don’t think they’ll come after us if we retreat. They’re at that rock for a reason. They’re not going to give it up.”

  “You’re making assumptions that could cost us our lives,” Arjuna said.

  “I’m giving you my best guess based on my experience with the Formics,” said Victor. “These creatures are task-oriented. Once they’re given a mission, they stick to it, even if doing so will kill them. I saw it time and again in the war. You saw it in the vids. If they’ve been given an order to take that rock somewhere, they’re not going to let it go.”