The Hive

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The Hive Page 41

by Orson Scott Card


  But sitting back and doing nothing while chaos reigned around him went against everything Victor had learned as a member of an asteroid-mining family. On a rock crew, when disaster struck, everyone pulled their weight. Young, old, feeble, strong. It was every able hand on deck. Only younger children sat it out. By the time Victor was ten, he was right there with Father and Mother in the thick of it.

  But Rivera gave him a look that could kill every time he moved to get out of his seat, and so Victor had sat back and waited.

  It became obvious rather quickly that the three rogue IF ships were not, in fact, rogue ships, but rather hullmat-covered Formic ships built to resemble Fleet ships. The Vandalorum had begun to change course to assist, but it was not the closest vessel to the fighting, and other legitimate IF warships swept in to engage the Formics first.

  The NanoCloud missiles that Lem Jukes had provided months before, and which had delayed the fleet’s arrival to the rendezvous, proved worth waiting for and critical in the fight. The Fleet counterattack was twofold. After a NanoCloud missile breached the hullmat, a second chaser missile punched into the hole and destroyed the ship from the inside.

  By the time the three Formic ships were destroyed, six ships of the fleet had been destroyed, and three more were badly damaged.

  “The Polemarch is dead,” Rivera announced to Victor when she returned from an officer debrief after the battle had ended. “The Revenor was one of the ships that was hit first. Admiral Rheine is dead, too.”

  “What about the quad?” Victor asked. “The instantaneous communication device.”

  “What about it?”

  “Was it destroyed with the Polemarch’s ship?”

  “It wasn’t discussed,” said Rivera. “The meeting was mostly about succession. Rear Admiral Connelly and Rear Admiral Duquette are deciding how to divide the fleet between themselves and what to do next.”

  “We need to find out if someone is retrieving the quad,” said Victor.

  “If the rear admirals are powwowing on what to do next, then I take that to mean they aren’t bothering to ask CentCom’s advice on anything. Nobody’s going for the quad.”

  “Then they must know it’s destroyed,” said Victor. “Because it’s asinine not to go and recover our most critical piece of hardware.”

  “I wouldn’t assume they know it’s destroyed,” said Rivera. “It’s no secret that the rear admirals have never been fans of this operation.”

  “Then they’re intentionally not getting the quad because they don’t want CentCom giving them orders,” said Victor. “This battle and the Polemarch’s death are the opportunities they’ve been waiting for to get out of what they never wanted to do in the first place.”

  “I’d call that analysis likely accurate,” said Rivera.

  A different marine was guarding the entrance to Deck Three when Victor and Rivera arrived. A young kid. Male.

  “Open the door,” said Rivera.

  “I’m sorry, Liuetenant,” said the marine. “The vice admiral has asked not to be disturbed.”

  Victor raised an eyebrow. “The vice admiral?”

  “Hoebeck,” said Rivera. “Battlefield promotion.”

  “We haven’t even tended to the dead, and already we’re giving out promotions,” said Victor. He turned to the marine. “Please open the door, Corporal.”

  The marine shook his head. “Sorry. I’m under orders not to open this door.”

  “Well, I’ve been given no such order,” said Victor, “so I’ll open it.” He reached past the marine and hit the release button. The door opened.

  “Hey!” said the marine.

  “If they ask, you can say we overpowered you,” said Victor. “Otherwise, you’ll have to shoot us.”

  Victor launched forward and didn’t look back. The young marine started to yell after him, but then Victor could hear Lieutenant Rivera getting in his face and giving him a grilling so that Victor could get through.

  Most of the helm officers were crowded at the entrance to Hoebeck’s office with their backs to the helm. Victor could hear Hoebeck’s muffled voice inside, speaking intently. Only two young techs managed the holotable and helm.

  Victor approached one of them. His nameplate read Khatri. “Was the Revenor completely destroyed?”

  Khatri was a lowly apprentice, just two notches up from Victor, according to his insignia. Not a day over nineteen. He looked up from his tablet, faced Victor, and brightened. “Victor Delgado. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Big fan. I read your biography, Cry of Warning.”

  “That’s nice. The Revenor. The Polemarch’s ship. Was it destroyed completely?”

  “The Revenor? Depends on how you would describe completely, sir.”

  “Were there survivors?”

  “Twelve, sir. They were recovered just a few hours ago. All from the rear of the ship. Everyone up at the helm was killed in the assault. Breached hull. Terrible about the Polemarch. I heard he—”

  “What about the quad?” said Victor. “Did the rescuers recover the quad?”

  Khatri checked his tablet. “Not that I’ve heard.”

  A harsh voice interrupted them. “What is this man doing on my helm?”

  Victor and Khatri turned to see newly promoted Vice Admiral Hoebeck emerging from his office, red-faced and fuming, flanked by his aides.

  “How did you get past the guard?” demanded Hoebeck.

  “Request permission to leave the ship,” said Victor.

  Hoebeck had opened his mouth and raised a finger and looked on the verge of shouting something when the question had derailed him. He blinked. Then his surprise faded and was replaced with a sneer. “You can’t run home just yet, Ensign Delgado. I’m sorry if our battle here terrified you, but you’re in the Fleet now. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “The quad,” said Victor. “Request permission to go to the Revenor and recover the quad.”

  “You’re not authorized to touch the quad,” said Hoebeck.

  “No living person in this fleet is,” said Victor. “I’m assuming the communications officer died in the assault. The quad connects us to CentCom and the Hegemony. We were just attacked by ships shaped like ours. A highly effective deception that allowed the Formics to get in close. Have these Formic ships been traveling with the Fleet since the Fleet left the ecliptic or did they emerge from behind blinds?”

  Hoebeck laughed. “You think they came with us all this way without us knowing?”

  Victor shrugged. “It might not be that farfetched of an idea. Our fleet is spread out. With vast distances between each ship. Sometimes thousands of klicks apart. Plus we’ve been maintaining radio silence. Even the packet system is only used by a small percentage of the ships. Most of our ships don’t talk to each other. The idea that Formic ships could remain at our fringes for months on end is quite believable. Maybe not as plausible as the blinds, but if you hadn’t already heard about the blinds, I suspect that would be difficult to believe as well.”

  Hoebeck maintained his grimace but said nothing.

  “The Fleet needs to know that the Formics have this capability,” said Victor, “that the Formics can shape their ships to look like ours. Without the quad, we can’t tell the Fleet anything, and they can’t give us instructions, which is what we need right now more than anything.”

  “We’ve been given our instructions,” said Hoebeck. “Rear Admiral Connelly and Rear Admiral Duquette have ordered us to abandon this operation and return to the ecliptic immediately.”

  “But is that what CentCom wants?” Victor asked. “Is that what the Strategos wants? The Hegemon? It’s possible that they all want us to push on to the motherships.”

  Hoebeck remained quiet, but Victor could see that he was thinking it over.

  “Sir, if the quad can be recovered,” said Victor, “shouldn’t we at least try to retrieve it and relay this critical intelligence back to the Fleet? Don’t we have that duty? If the Formics can mimic Fleet ships here, then they can
do so just as easily in the ecliptic. If we don’t warn the Fleet, they might be as caught off guard as we were, which will result in casualties the Fleet could have avoided but didn’t. Because of us.”

  “I have my orders,” said Hoebeck.

  “Yes. You do. And all of your aides here can vouch under oath if necessary that you strictly forbade me from recovering the quad. You’ve demonstrated that you are adamant in following your superiors. It’s not your fault if I disobey those orders and steal back my zipship. And it’s not your fault if your men at the turrets are asleep on the job and don’t fire on my zipship as I escape.”

  Hoebeck was quiet a moment. Finally he said, “In all likelihood the quad has been destroyed. You might be wasting your time.”

  “Maybe,” said Victor. “But the helm was breached. That’s how they died. Not from a blast that would destroy equipment, but from loss of air pressure.”

  Lieutenant Al-Baradouni spoke up. “Sir, if I may, the quad was a tool of the Polemarch. The Hegemon will now need to call a new Polemarch. I’d say it’s likely that he would call that new Polemarch among the senior officers of this fleet. Should you have the quad, sir, you could inform the new Polemarch of his new assignment.”

  Lieutenant Al-Baradouni gave Victor a subtle look as if to cue him. Victor understood at once and felt silly for not seeing the argument immediately.

  “I’d go one step further, sir,” said Victor. “The senior officer who recovers the quad, and shows great allegiance to the Hegemony by so doing, may even be deemed the frontrunner for the office of Polemarch. Why wouldn’t the Hegemony pick you, sir? You would have the quad. You could assume the role without delay.”

  Hoebeck held up a hand. “You’re laying it on thick now. As I’ve told you, I have orders that I must obey unless I receive orders from a higher authority like, say, the Hegemon or CentCom. But I am not about to be deemed insubordinate by subverting the commands of my superiors. Do I make myself clear, Ensign Delgado?”

  His tone was much more agreeable now. Almost pleasant.

  “Crystal clear, sir.”

  Hoebeck turned to Lieutenant Al-Baradouni. “Lieutenant, I believe it’s time for you to do a thorough inspection of the cargo bay, where the zipship is stored. That should keep the loadmasters occupied for quite some time and leave the zipship unattended.”

  “Agreed, sir.”

  * * *

  Climbing back into the zipship in his flight suit felt to Victor like crawling back into his grave.

  “This is a terrible idea,” said Rivera as she helped pack in the supplies he’d be taking. “Why does it have to be you? You’re still recovering from the last time you were in this thing. Now you’re going to undo all the progress we’ve made.”

  “We haven’t made any progress,” said Victor. “I still look like a sickly eighty-year-old version of myself.”

  “You have made progress. You used to look eighty. Now you look seventy-eight.”

  Victor smiled. “Don’t let them leave me, okay?”

  “Are you kidding? Hoebeck despises you. He’ll probably accelerate as soon as you’re off the ship.”

  “Not with the carrot I’m dangling. Not a chance.”

  “You don’t even know what the quad looks like,” said Rivera. “How will you know when you find it?”

  “It will have a keyboard and be in its own room.”

  “That’s nearly every terminal on the ship.”

  “I’m pretty sure this won’t look like a typical terminal display.”

  “This ansible belonged to the Polemarch,” said Rivera. “He may not have used a communications officer to operate it. He might have used it himself. More efficient that way. In which case, the ansible might be in his quarters, not at the helm.”

  “One of the helm officers gave me a map of the Revenor. If the ansible’s not at the helm, I’ll check the Polemarch’s quarters.”

  “Which might be locked,” said Rivera.

  “Then I’ll break the door down,” said Victor. “Anything else?”

  “Don’t die,” said Rivera. “I haven’t lost a patient yet. Don’t screw up my track record.”

  It took Victor three days to reach the Revenor since it was still moving in the direction that it had held when it was attacked. Victor was surprised to find the ship mostly intact. The holes were clearly visible, and the damage was catastrophic, but it flew onward like a ghost of its former self.

  He had no one to assist with the docking, so he flew the zipship right up into one of the massive holes in the ship and anchored it to structural beams inside. It took several hours for him to reach the helm because the ship no longer had power, and the doors and hatches had to be manually opened with the emergency cranks. By the time he reached the helm, both of his arms ached from all the effort.

  The helm had three corpses drifting in the room. The room was large and looked to have held a staff of twenty or more. Perhaps the other marines had been sucked out the large hole near the navigational table. One of the bodies was the Polemarch, Ishmerai Averbach. Victor collected his ankle tag, crossed himself, and collected the other two tags as well.

  He found the quad immediately thereafter. The quad room was small and adjacent to the helm. The communications officer was inside. Victor pulled the body out of the room and collected the man’s ankle tag. The quad was smaller than Victor expected. No bigger than a large suitcase. It was simple and boxy. Functional. It wasn’t going to win any awards for its design. You typed, you read, you typed some more. A stenographer probably had better-looking equipment.

  He had worried ever since setting out from the Vandalorum that he would find the quad intact and undamaged from the battle yet rendered useless by the cold of space. That seemed to be the case now. The machine looked lifeless. He tapped at the keyboard and nothing happened. The small display remained black and devoid of light. He tapped at the keys again, and still nothing.

  He noticed a small plate a few centimeters square on the bottom right-hand corner of the display. It was slightly dirty from the greasy residue of a thumbprint. Victor pressed his own gloved thumb to the square, and the square lit up blue momentarily before dimming again. Nothing happened thereafter, which meant it wasn’t simply a button. It was a print scan, a form of security. He tried maneuvering the communications officer back into the room, but the corpse was stiff and frozen, and there was no way he would be able to position the man’s thumb where it belonged. Victor took his pocket laser, apologized out loud, and cut the man’s thumb off. Victor worried that even this wouldn’t work, though. The corpses were all severely discolored, and the thumb wasn’t as pliable and soft as it needed to be to press flat against the plate to get a thorough scan.

  But the quad fired up and the terminal display went from black to a pleasant green. The word “Revenor” followed by a colon appeared. Victor began to type.

  REVENOR:  Hello

  CENTCOM:  Revenor, please update. You’ve been silent for almost five days.

  REVENOR:  this isnt revenor welll it iss but not really this is victpr delgado the crew of the revenot are dead ship destroyed hard to typee in gloves request permission to take quad to vandalorumm

  CENTCOM:  Did you say the ship was destroyed? Where is the Polemarch?

  REVENOR:  deceased

  CENTCOM:  Who is the commanding officer with you?

  REVENOR:  Okay, I found the delete and shift key, as well as the punctuation keys. Why would you make those hard to find? There is no commanding officer with me. I came alone from the Vandalorum. I need someone to tell me how to move this thing. Do I need to unplug it? I don’t see a plug anywhere. I’m afraid I’m going to break something.

  CENTCOM:  Name, rank, and serial number.

  REVENOR:  Serious? I’m typing in gloves. My oxygen is limited. I told you my name. serial # not memorized. Rank = peon.

  CENTCOM:  Stand by.

  REVENOR:  Hello? It’s been 5 min.

&nb
sp; CENTCOM:  Stand by.

  REVENOR:  I’m in a pressure suit. Time’s a wasting!!!!

  CENTCOM:  What happened to the Revenor?

  REVENOR:  Formic ships shaped like IF ships ambushed us. 6 ships lost. 3 damaged. Need orders. Rear admirals want to abandon op and return. Others, like me, feel we should move on to target. Please advise.

  CENTCOM:  Stand by.

  REVENOR:  I’ve got 40% oxygen. Need to return to zipship. Tell me how to safely move this thing or I’m going to move it without your help.

  CENTCOM:  Stand by.

  CENTCOM:  We need to confirm your identity.

  CENTCOM:  Place your right thumb against the scan plate.

  CENTCOM:  Please respond.

  CENTCOM:  Do you copy?

  CENTCOM:  Do you copy?

  CENTCOM:  Do you copy?

  CENTCOM:  Do you copy?

  CENTCOM:  Please respond.

  REVENOR:  I told you turkeys that I had to move the thing and that I was going to move it whether you gave me instructions or not. This was a nightmare to navigate through the ship. I am now back in the zipship and moving away from the Revenor. I also brought the communications officer’s thumb in case I need it again, which I hope I don’t. I am out of my pressure suit and will press my thumb against the plate. Stand by.

  UKKO:  Victor. It’s Ukko Jukes.

  REVENOR:  Mr. Jukes. I guess they forwarded my call.

  UKKO:  We had to verify that you are who you say you are. We’ve had pirates seize ansibles in the past.

  REVENOR:  What’s an ansible?

  UKKO:  The device you’re using. Quad is the code name. You now have the real name because you are now the designated operator of this device. The only operator. No one else has access. That includes the rear admirals and Captain Hoebeck.

 

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