Earth Awakens (The First Formic War)

by Orson Scott Card

  But every so often, Rena and her crew would strip something really complex. A drive system, for example. Or an oxygen generator. Something that had a lot of moving parts and a potentially large resale value. These had to be described in great detail, with an account given of all its constituent parts and functions.

  And since no one knew ship parts as well as Rena, and since no one could inspect them so thoroughly or determine their value so accurately, the chore of writing the salvage report naturally fell to her.

  Rena didn’t mind the work. The writing was tedious, yes, but it kept her mind busy.

  Plus, whenever she would begin to describe a new part they had found, a memory of Segundo would spark in her mind. He had repaired and replaced so many parts on El Cavador that he had practically rebuilt the ship from the inside out.

  Rena remembered every repair. How could she not? Segundo would come back to their room at the end of each work shift and detail everything that had happened to him. People he had talked to. Gossip he had heard. Repairs he had made. It had become a ritual between them. And Rena would listen as she worked, preparing the navigational maps for the next work shift. Then, when Segundo had finished, she would do the same, recounting everything of interest that had happened at the helm.

  She had thought nothing of those moments at the time. They were so normal, so wholly unremarkable. And yet Rena would give anything to experience any one of them again.

  But no, it did her mind no good to wish for what she could not have.

  She pushed the memories aside and looked down at her handwritten notes. She was only three-quarters of the way through the report, she realized. It would be hours before she finished.

  She debated going to bed, but if she did, she wouldn’t be able to continue until the following evening. The crew would need this terminal throughout the day. There was another terminal in the cargo hold where the survivors from El Cavador stayed, but Rena knew she wouldn’t get anything done there. Trying to concentrate among eighteen women and thirty-seven children would be an exercise in futility. No one ever gave her a moment’s peace. If there was any issue whatsoever, they all felt the need to bring it to her attention.

  “The toilet in the restroom is clogged again, Rena.”

  “The baby has a rash on its legs, Rena.”

  “The twins need more blankets, Rena.”

  “There’s a pipe dripping in the corner, Rena, and the droplets are floating everywhere.”

  Look at this, Rena. Solve this, Rena. Listen to me complain again, Rena.

  Even some of the children came to her now, unloading their problems to her instead of going directly to their mothers.

  “Felipe pushed me and I scraped my elbow.”

  “Marcella called me poop head, Rena. That’s a bad word.”

  “Jose Luis took my crackers, Rena, and he won’t give them back.”

  Rena would kindly direct them to their mothers, but this did little to deter them. They still came flying back later with some other complaint—crying sometimes, angry, frightened. There had even been one moment when Rena had overheard one of the mothers, Alicia, say to her youngest child Bixxi, “You better stop crying right now, young lady, or I am going to go get Rena.”

  What was that supposed to mean, Rena had wondered. Was she the enforcer of discipline now, the designated spanker?

  No, she had realized. She had become the father. They had lost all of their men to the Formics, and now, without any of the women and children consciously making the decision, they had chosen Rena to fill that void.

  There were times when she wanted to scream at them all. I am not in charge. Do not come to me with your problems. Solve them yourselves or go to the captain. I don’t really care.

  But that wasn’t true exactly. She did care. The children, wild and obnoxious as they were, were just children after all—children who had each suffered a great loss. It broke Rena’s heart to think of it. She had known each of their fathers; she had seen them interact with each and every child—playing together, laughing together, flying around the cargo bay together.

  They were moments that could never be repeated. And for the younger children, they were moments that would soon be forgotten. It struck Rena as the greatest injustice of the universe. These little minds, who so desperately needed to remember their fathers, would almost certainly forget them with time.

  She finished the report three hours later and sent it immediately via laserline to the nearest trade station on the asteroid Themis.

  In the past few weeks, the interference had slowly dissipated, and communication across distances was gradually coming back online. Themis wasn’t that far away, and Rena was confident the salvage traders there would spark to something on her list.

  Rena watched the screen, waiting for the alert that would tell her the transmission had been received. She must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing she knew the screen chimed, and she jerked awake.

  There was a message from Themis.

  Transmission received. Have FWDed to salvage buyers.

  Note: News feeds back online. Info on war.

  Subscriptions are 100 C a week.

  The words of the second line stopped Rena cold. There was a massive laserline receiver on Themis, and apparently they were getting feeds relayed to them from Earth again.

  She wrote back immediately.

  Can you do a search in the news feeds? I am looking for information on my son. Victor Delgado. He flew from the K Belt to Luna in a quickship to warn Earth of approaching Formics. Ship of origin was El Cavador. Any information is appreciated.

  It was an hour before she received a reply.

  100 credits to search the feeds.

  She almost smacked the screen. They wanted to charge her to do a simple search? A task that would take them only a few minutes? A child could do it. She could get a subscription for a week and do the search herself for that price. Didn’t they read her message? Victor had gone to warn Earth. Didn’t that mean anything to them?

  No, of course it didn’t. They were on Themis. A rock of money-grubbers, if ever there was one.

  She pushed herself away from the terminal and flew immediately to Arjuna’s cabin.

  It was several hours before the end of sleep shift, but she knocked on the door anyway. When no one answered, she knocked again. She heard movement inside, and a moment later the door opened. Sabad, one of Arjuna’s wives, squinted at the light. Rena sighed inside. Of Arjuna’s three wives, Sabad was the only one with whom Rena did not get along. The girl was young, barely over twenty, and she had not yet borne Arjuna any children.

  Before Rena and the others from El Cavador had come aboard, Arjuna’s three wives had each enjoyed their own room. But everyone had to sleep somewhere, and sacrifices had been made when the ship’s crew had doubled in size. Now all of Arjuna’s wives shared the same room, and Sabad seemed to hold Rena personally responsible for the inconvenience.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Sabad said, hovering in the door frame, giving Rena a look that would wilt flowers.

  “I need to speak to Arjuna,” said Rena.

  “It can wait until morning, whatever it is.”

  “No. It can’t. We just received a laserline from Themis. They’re getting news feeds from Earth again.”

  “Good for them. You can tell my husband in the morning.”

  He’s not just your husband, Rena wanted to say. He’s Ubax’s husband and Kaaha’s husband, too, two of the other Somali women on board. You should use the plural possessive pronoun, Sabad, and say “our.”

  But Rena was not one to be petty—not out loud at least—so she simply said, “I apologize for the interruption, Sabad, but I think Arjuna would want to know this immediately.”

  “Do you claim to know the mind of my husband better than I do?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then go back to your little hive of spoiled children and leave us alone.”

  She be
gan to close the door, but Rena stopped it with her hand. Normally Rena was mild-mannered and slow to rile, but Sabad was pushing the wrong buttons. The children from El Cavador were anything but spoiled. Those who were old enough to work did more on the ship in an hour than Sabad did in a day. Rena was just about to say as much when Arjuna appeared in the doorway. He was shirtless, and his black skin was almost invisible in the darkness. “What is it, Rena?” His voice was deep and froggy from sleep.

  She told him about the laserline from Themis.

  Arjuna considered a moment, then pulled himself out into the corridor and turned back to Sabad. “Go back to bed, Sabad. I will be there in a moment.”

  Sabad folded her arms. “Whatever you have to say to her, I can hear it, too.”

  “I said go back to bed, woman.”

  There was a bite in his tone, and Sabad relented. She gave Rena a final withering look then slammed the door in her face.

  “She doesn’t like me very much,” said Rena.

  “No. She doesn’t. She thinks you’re competition.”

  “Competition for what?”

  “My affection.”

  Rena felt her cheeks flush.

  Arjuna laughed softly. “Do not look embarrassed, Lady of El Cavador. I am not proposing marriage. I am telling you how a young woman’s mind works. She has given me no children. She worries I will tire of her and turn to another.”

  “You do turn to another. Frequently. You have two other wives. I never know who I’m going to find in your room when I knock.”

  Arjuna shrugged. “It is hard to keep a schedule. I let the wives decide. There are many nights when none of them come to me. I can’t say I blame them. It was much easier before you came. Each of the wives had her own room. I went to them. Now they share a room. The gods only know what they talk about.”

  Rena felt embarrassed. She had only thought of the inconvenience she and the family had been to the wives. She hadn’t given much consideration to what it might mean to Arjuna. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for us to cause marital strife.”

  Arjuna brushed the words away. “You have turned this ship into a moneymaker. That’s what matters. This could be our biggest haul yet. All because of you.”

  It was true. A week ago they had come upon a derelict Juke vessel that appeared to be picked clean by vultures—which were aggressive salvagers who were little more than pirates. Arjuna was ready to dismiss the ship, but Rena had encouraged him to investigate it nonetheless. “Vultures often ignore the smaller parts in their rush to gut the ship,” Rena had said. “Half the time they don’t know what they’re looking for. It won’t hurt to look a little closer.”

  It hadn’t hurt. They had found the drive system mostly intact, and the oxygen generator had needed only minor repairs. Those two parts alone should earn them more than all of their other salvages combined.

  “We can’t afford a subscription,” said Arjuna. “One hundred credits a week is ridiculous. No salvage ship can afford that. We barely make enough to eat.”

  “They don’t expect us to pay a hundred a week. They expect us to talk down the price.”

  “To how much?”

  “Half that. Maybe as low as forty.”

  “Which we still can’t afford. And Earth is a long way away. What good would the news do us here?”

  “It’s Earth,” said Rena. “It’s our home.”

  “Is it? When was the last time you were on Earth? Twenty years ago?”

  “Unless the Formics are defeated, we are cut off, Arjuna. No supply lines will get through. We will die out here.”

  “I am aware of this. But our tracking the news feeds won’t prevent that from happening. We are powerless to help, Rena. The Formics will win or lose regardless of us.” He crossed his arms and studied her a moment. “Are you sure this is not about Victor? I know you want closure, Rena. I understand that.”

  “Not closure. That suggests he didn’t make it to Luna. I’m certain he did.”

  “You say that, but I see the doubt in your eyes.” He sighed softly. “He tried to cross the system in a quickship, Rena. This is impossible. There is no chance your son is still alive.”

  “Don’t talk to me about chances. You do not know my son.”

  He held up his hands. “I have offended you. That was not my intent.”

  Rena ran a hand through her hair, calming herself. “This is not just about Victor. There are other advantages here. With a subscription we would have a continuous link to Themis’s receiver. We’d be in the network. We’d get news from distant places in the Belt. We could better track vultures.”

  “These are all wonderful benefits, Rena. But we can’t afford it. We are a salvage ship.”

  “What if we weren’t?”

  Her question confused him. “What are you saying?”

  “What if we made this a mining ship?”

  He laughed. “The Gagak is no mining ship. We’re barely a salvage ship.”

  “What difference does that make? El Cavador was in no better condition when we started.”

  His smile faded. “You’re serious about this.”

  “If we’re mining rock, we’ll make far more money. The thought hadn’t occurred to me until now, but it makes complete sense. We can help each other. The women and I want our own ship. The faster we bring in revenue, the faster we can make that possible.”

  “Consider what you’re saying, Rena. We don’t have the equipment. We would need smelters, diggers, quickships. We don’t have any of that.”

  “So we get it. Piece by piece. We’re salvagers. We find what we need, or we trade for it. We’ve got some of that stuff in our haul right now. Not much, but enough to get started.”

  He shook his head. “We don’t have a credit rating, Rena. Even if we could dig, Luna would never take anything we send them.”

  “You don’t have a credit rating, but El Cavador does. I propose a partnership. Your ship and your crew; plus my crew, our expertise, and our credit rating. We split the profits. It’s not as far-fetched as it sounds.”

  He looked uncomfortable. “No. I am sorry. A partnership is out of the question.”

  “You can’t do this without us, Arjuna. We know the business. We know the tech. We have the credentials. It’s only fair that you make us full partners.”

  “I agree. That is only fair. But I cannot partner with you, Rena. It’s not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  He hesitated. “Because … you are women.”

  His words surprised her so much that it took a moment for their full meaning to sink in. Of course, she thought. He was Somali, a patriarchal society. He would lose face with his crew if he partnered with women. They would think him weak, soft, unmanly. He would lose command, maybe even his wives. A stronger man would step in and claim them, and Rena and the others would be pushed aside.

  “You must understand,” he said. “It is nothing against you personally. This is simply who we are. You have your culture, and we have ours. I cannot ignore that for convenience.”

  “No, you can’t. The partnership wouldn’t last. We would be ostracized. And so would you.”

  “There is one possible solution,” he said, “but I do not think you will like it.”

  She looked at him and waited.

  “What you are proposing is a merger of tribes, Rena. This happens all the time in my country. It is done through a marriage.”

  She blinked. “Marriage?”

  “If I marry all nineteen of you, then you would be one with our tribe. My crew would agree to a business partnership. You would not be equal in station to my current wives, however. They are of my tribe by birth. You are not. You would be considered my concubines.”

  Rena smiled, and it took everything she possessed not to start laughing. “Arjuna, I am flattered that you would so willingly take us on as your concubines, but we cannot marry you.”

  “Then this conversation is at a close. I cannot enter a partnership with
women who are not my wives. There would be mutiny.”

  Rena considered this then said, “Why don’t we say that our husbands are away? We have never recovered their bodies. And in our tribe, women can speak for the family in their husbands’ absence. Ours would be a merger of tribes that recognizes our husbands in absentia.”

  He shook his head. “My crew knows that your husbands have died, Rena. You have discussed their deaths with some of them. It doesn’t matter that we have not seen their bodies. We have seen your grieving faces, and that is worse.”

  “What about the boys? Franco is twelve. That’s Bella’s son. He is the oldest male. We could say he is the leader of our tribe and this merger is his wish.”

  Arjuna shook his head. “He is not man grown. He cannot speak for the tribe.”

  “Then what about Victor? My son. He is a man grown. If I can prove that he’s alive, he would be the head of our tribe, would he not? He would speak for us. He could approve this merger.”

  Arjuna frowned. “Why do I feel like I’ve just been painted into a corner? Do you lay all of your snares so delicately, Lady of El Cavador?”

  “You can’t keep calling me that,” said Rena. “I’m not the only lady from that ship.”

  “No, but you are the most regal of your tribe. The most worthy of that title.”

  “I didn’t lay a snare. It just worked out that way.”

  “That’s what’s every fox would say.”

  She smiled. “In my tribe, to call a woman a fox is to call her beautiful.”

  “You are certainly that, Lady, but in my tribe a fox has a different meaning altogether.”

  “So are we in agreement?”