Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

by Orson Scott Card

  There were murmurs from the media.

  Ukko signaled them to quiet. “We must do all in our power to remain calm and prevent a worldwide panic. I call upon all governments of Earth to convene an emergency summit at the United Nations so that immediate precautionary measures can be taken. And I vow that Juke Limited will continue to do everything in its power to keep the world informed and to assist in whatever preparations will be made. I’ll now turn the microphone over to members of my team who will take you through the evidence and answer all of your questions.” He stepped away from the lectern, and gestured to Prescott, who came forward and introduced himself.

  “It’s running on every feed,” said Simona, who was tapping at her wrist pad.

  “Our investigation began,” said Prescott, “when we initiated an analysis of purported evidence uploaded onto the nets concerning an alleged alien vessel. Much of this evidence was dismissed by members of the press, but our team of researchers continued to analyze it nonetheless.”

  It was a bold statement to make. Yet Victor saw the wisdom of it. The world would want to place blame; people would be angry. They’d demand to know why they hadn’t been told sooner and why they had been given so little time to prepare. By subtly slapping the media on the wrist, Ukko was doing preemptive damage control and deflecting any blame from himself.

  The press conference went on for an hour, with various members of Ukko’s team taking the microphone to present evidence and answer questions. Victor and Imala watched the subsequent news coverage as anchors regurgitated Ukko’s announcement. There were rumors that the director of STASA was preparing a statement. The president of the U.S. had called a press conference. The Politburo in Beijing was deliberating. The secretary-general of the United Nations would be making a statement shortly. Eventually Victor turned off the broadcast, and the room went silent.

  “What’s going to happen now?” he asked Simona.

  “The U.N. will hold its summit. STASA will spring into action. Nations of the world will pledge their support, and every politician with a spark of intelligence and an eye on the next election will scramble to praise Mr. Jukes and his team.”

  “What about the ship?” Victor asked. “Will they ready a fleet to destroy it?”

  Simona shrugged. “Too early to say. What matters is that it’s not your problem anymore. You two are free to go. As of right now, your services with Juke Limited are no longer required. Mr. Jukes wishes to express his deep gratitude for your tireless assistance, and as a token of his thanks he is giving you the use of a Juke shuttle to fly you to Midway station. You’ll return the shuttle there and secure your own passage out to the Kuiper Belt.”

  Victor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re giving me a shuttle?”

  “On loan. To get you to Midway. You said yourself you wanted to find your family.”

  “Yes but … what’s the catch?”

  “No catch. Mr. Jukes recognizes the sacrifices you’ve made, and he is all too eager to return the favor and reunite you with your family. I’m to take you both to the dock immediately.”

  “Both of us?” said Victor.

  “Imala will be accompanying you. She’ll pilot the shuttle. It’s not a ship you’re familiar with.”

  Victor looked at Imala and saw at once from her expression that she had already agreed to this. “How can you possibly consider this?” he asked. “Your career. Your family. You don’t want to come with me. It’s a six-, seven-month trip to Midway.”

  “They asked me,” said Imala. “It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done for us. You shouldn’t be traveling alone.”

  “But I don’t have to travel alone,” said Victor. “A ship to myself is generous, but it’s unnecessary. Surely there are still transports leaving for the Belt. And if not, there will be now. A lot of people will want to get as far away from Earth and Luna as possible until this is over. Why not put me on one of those ships and be done with it? Why give me a whole shuttle?”

  “Mr. Jukes wants you riding in comfort,” said Simona. “Money is no object.”

  Victor didn’t know what to say. A shuttle. All the way to Midway. For free. It was more than he could have asked for. It was too good to be true.

  And then he realized it was too good to be true.

  “Ukko isn’t doing this out of generosity,” he said. “He’s doing it to get rid of me. That’s what this is. He keeps me here under house arrest and then he ships me out as soon as the announcement is made? On a shuttle with just Imala? Away from anyone I might relay my story to? This isn’t a gift. It’s a muzzle. He doesn’t want me talking to anyone, especially the press. He doesn’t want me telling them that his son is a murderer. He’s protecting Lem by making me disappear. Tell me if I’m getting warm here.”

  “Or perhaps Mr. Jukes is genuinely grateful and you’ve misjudged him,” said Simona.

  “Oh yes, I’ve misjudged the man who has been attacking families like mine for decades, the man who called me a heathen and threatened me and kept me as a prisoner—”

  “Who protected you from the authorities,” Simona corrected.

  “For his own gain! Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to believe that Ukko Jukes would do anything out of the goodness of his own heart?”

  “Victor,” said Imala. “Think for a moment. Does it really matter what Ukko’s motivations are? You’re getting a shuttle back to your family. You’re getting out. That’s what’s important.”

  He rounded on her. “You’re siding with them?”

  “I’m not siding with anyone. I’m thinking of your interests. So what if Ukko wants to protect his son? Fine. Don’t make it your concern.”

  “It is my concern. It most definitely is my concern. Lem killed my uncle.”

  “And what are you going to do about it?” asked Imala. “Go to the police? Press charges? There’s a warrant out for your arrest. And even if the police listened to you, which they wouldn’t, do you think you have a legal leg to stand on? You have no corpse. No proof. No other witnesses. Do you think Ukko doesn’t employ the most powerful legal army in the world? Do you think he would stand by while you made these accusations? He owns this city, Victor. He owns all of Luna. Probably judges as well. I’m telling you now, as someone who knows, if you go to war on this, you will lose. It’s that simple.”

  “What happened to you, Imala? What happened to the fire? Two weeks ago you were trying to take down the man all by yourself. Now you’re tucking tail and running.”

  He could see the words were like a slap to her face, and he regretted them instantly.

  Imala’s eyes narrowed. “What happened? An alien ship coming to Earth, that’s what happened. I don’t like this any more than you do, Victor. Believe me, no one despises Ukko more than me, but this is not the way to hurt him. It will fail. The only person who would come out of this a loser would be you.”

  “She’s talking sense, Victor,” said Simona.

  “Don’t take my side,” said Imala.

  “So you knew they wanted to get rid of me?” Victor asked Imala. “You knew this was their motivation? And you agreed to it?”

  “Of course I knew. It’s obvious, isn’t it? And I knew you’d figure it out as well. We get what we want, Ukko gets what he wants—”

  “And Lem gets away with murder.”

  “You didn’t come here seeking vengeance, Victor. You came here to do a job, and that job is done.”

  Victor turned to Simona. “If Ukko is doing this solely as a token of gratitude, then he would honor my request to go with a transport.”

  “That’s not an option,” said Simona.

  Victor smiled sardonically. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

  * * *

  They took a skimmer to a small, private spaceport north of Imbrium, well beyond the watchful eye of the Lunar Trade Department. Imala pointed out that she had never heard of the place and didn’t remember seeing it listed in any official registry at the Customs
Department. Simona brushed the observation aside and assured them both the port was legal.

  The skimmer slid into a slot near the terminal entrance, and Simona led them inside. It was a narrow terminal with a dozen gates, six to a side. Other than a few technicians moving about, preparing shuttles and loading supplies, the terminal was empty.

  Simona guided them to their gate and wiped her hand in a holofield beside the gate exit. The door to the umbilical opened, and Simona led them inside.

  The shuttle was small, with most of the space dedicated to the cargo bay, which measured ten by twenty meters. Several pallets of wrapped supplies had been tied down in the center.

  “Supplies for Midway,” said Simona. “Just leave them on the ship when you turn in the shuttle.” She then showed them where their supplies and hammocks were located and asked Imala if she had any questions with the flight controls. Imala didn’t.

  Simona extended a hand. “Then good luck to you both. I hope you find your family, Victor.”

  Victor shook her hand. “Thanks. And I hope you wise up and get a new employer.”

  Simona winked. “Someday perhaps. The sun to your back, Imala.”

  “And to yours,” said Imala.

  Simona left them then and sealed the umbilical door behind her.

  Imala buckled into the pilot’s seat, entered a few commands into the console, and turned on the virtual windshield.

  Victor climbed into the copilot’s seat beside her. “You sure you know how to fly this thing? I thought you were an auditor.”

  She threw more switches and punched in more commands. “My father’s a pilot back in Arizona. He did everything he could to convince me to follow in his footsteps. Flying lessons, low-grav flight training. He even took me on an orbiting shuttle cruise when I was a kid and talked the pilot into letting me take the helm for a few minutes. I think he thought I’d have some magical experience that would convince me to pursue piloting. I broke his heart when I told him I wanted to work in tax and tariffs.”

  “A far cry from flying.”

  “And not the most glamorous of careers either, in his opinion. What can I say? Macroeconomics and financial structures fascinate me. My father called it a ‘cataclysmic mistake.’” She smiled. “You have to know my father. He’s not the most open-minded of men. He even tried to marry me off to another Apache to keep me from coming to Luna. A real tribesman like my father. Pride of the people and all that. Preserving our heritage.

  “Despite all that, though, I really liked the guy. If my father hadn’t been the one to introduce us and if he hadn’t been pushing the whole thing, I’m not sure what would have happened. My mother said I broke it off to spite my father, which is probably true. When I left home, it wasn’t a fond farewell. My dad and I both said a few things we probably shouldn’t have.”

  “Is that why you’re not going back to Arizona? Is that why you’re coming with me?”

  “I’m coming with you, Victor, because you shouldn’t do this alone and because I think the world owes it to you.”

  “It’s not your debt to pay, Imala. I got here on my own, remember? I’m not helpless.”

  “Yes, but what you seem to forget is that you nearly wasted away to nothing and you’ve failed miserably on your own ever since you arrived. If I hadn’t helped, you’d still be stuck in the recovery hospital awaiting trial, with the world none the wiser about what’s coming.”

  Victor put his feet up on the dash and his hands behind his head. “My hero. Whatever would I do without you?”

  “Not much,” said Imala.

  The anchors detached, and Imala pulled the shuttle up and away from the terminal.

  Victor sat up, suddenly serious. “Are you sure about this, Imala? This is a year-long trip. Six months out, six months back.”

  “I can do the math, Victor.”

  “Yes, but you’re being rushed into this. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  “You’re saying you don’t want the company?”

  “No, I’m saying this is a sacrifice you don’t have to make.”

  “I can’t stay on Luna, Victor. And I’m not going home. If I go home, I’m useless. Here, I can do something. I may not be able to stop the hormiga ship, but I can contribute in some small way. Will you let me do that please? Will you at least give me that courtesy?”

  He smiled and pushed off the seat, weightless now. “On one condition: My family calls me Vico for short. If we’re going to be in this can for six months, we should at least treat each other like family.”

  She grinned, testing the sound of the word. “Vico. I’ll see if I can remember that.”

  * * *

  They flew for seven days toward Last Chance, a small supply depot that was the last stop in this quadrant for those traveling to the Belt. From here, crews could anticipate several months and two hundred million kilometers of nothing. Victor and Imala didn’t need supplies, but they were desperate for news. Their shuttle had lost contact with Luna after the first day because of the interference, and they had no idea what preparations Earth and Luna had made since then.

  As they approached the depot, still several hours away, Victor said, “You realize of course that in all likelihood the ships docked at this place are going to know less about what’s going on than we do. They won’t have had communication for the same reason we don’t. They’ll be pumping us for information, not the other way around.”

  “Probably,” agreed Imala. “But our shuttle is hardly the fastest thing out here. Maybe there are ships at the depot that left Luna after us and arrived before us. In which case they might know something we don’t.”

  The shuttle’s flight data said that Last Chance had ten docking stations with umbilicals, but when the depot came into view, Victor saw that there were at least four times that many ships clustered around it.

  “It’s packed,” said Victor. “No way we’re getting on board.”

  “Maybe we don’t have to,” said Imala. “Laserlines work over short distances. If we get close enough, maybe they can feed us news directly to the ship.”

  When they were less than a hundred klicks away, Imala used the laserline to hail the station.

  The head of a portly woman appeared in the holofield.

  “I’d ask for a docking tube,” said Imala, “but it doesn’t look like you have one available.”

  “We don’t. You’re welcome to patch in to our news feeds, though.”

  “You’re getting broadcasts from Luna?”

  “We’re getting text only,” said the woman. “The bandwidth doesn’t handle voice or video.”

  “How are you getting even that?” said Imala. “We can’t get anything.”

  “We’ve set up a string of ships between us and Luna,” said the woman, “with a ship every million klicks or so. Like a bucket brigade. They’re passing up information via laserline as it becomes available. It’s not a perfect system, mind you. The deterioration you usually get in ten million klicks happens in a hundred thousand now. So in a million klicks you can barely make out a very slow transmission. The ships have to repeat the message three times and make the best guess about some passages, but even so you’re going to get some deterioration and holes in the text. Shall I send you the codes for the uplink?”

  “Yes. Please,” said Imala.

  “There’s a fee,” said the woman.

  “You’re charging me for the news?”

  “Keeping relay ships out there isn’t cheap. News wouldn’t get through otherwise.”

  “How much?” asked Imala.

  The woman told them a ridiculous amount. Imala wanted to argue, but Victor said, “I’ll pay it.” His family had left him money for his education at a university. He could spare some of it here.

  Five minutes later text from various news feeds appeared on their monitor. The reports were riddled with holes and sentence fragments, but Victor and Imala got the gist of each report.

  Victor had hoped that a fleet had been a
ssembled, but it quickly became evident that such wasn’t the case. STASA was calling for calm and pushing for diplomacy, seeking for ways to communicate with the hormigas when they arrived. The U.N. had conducted an emergency summit as Ukko Jukes had suggested, but all that political circus had accomplished was to appoint the Egyptian ambassador, Kenwe Zubeka, as the secretary of alien affairs, a new position with zero power or influence. Zubeka seemed not to notice how insignificant his position was and kept making asinine statements to the press.

  When asked about the destroyed ships in the Belt, Zubeka had said, “We don’t know what kind of misunderstanding or provocation our alien visitors were responding to. As soon as we can talk to them, I’m sure we can have a peaceful conversation that will benefit both our species.”

  “Are you kidding me?” said Victor. “A misunderstanding? He’s calling the murder of thousands of people a misunderstanding? When they killed the Italians, it wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was deliberate. They knew what they were doing.”

  “It’s typical geopolitics, Vico. Few countries have any military presence in space. Most of the bigger powers have shuttles and cargo vessels that are space-ready and could be weaponized, but to form a fleet, to amass enough ships to stage an assault or form a blockade, we need a coalition. The U.S., Russia, China, India, France. These countries don’t work well together. The Chinese don’t trust the Russians, India doesn’t trust the Chinese, and the U.S. doesn’t trust anybody, except for maybe a few countries in Europe. And no country wants to act on their own. If they go alone they risk crippling their ships and weakening their arsenal. That would make them vulnerable to other powers.”