The solution was right there in front of him, he realized. Victor had unspooled several hundred meters of wiring across the bay, connecting all of the mesh nets to the batteries. It looked like a haphazard spider’s web, but it was exactly what Mazer needed. He launched again and began cutting and collecting the wire. By the time the team had finished with the nozzles, he had twisted and semi-braided the wiring into three long, thick ropes. One of the ropes was tied around his chest and thighs like a harness.
As Benyawe and the others joined him at the shaft entrance, Mazer called to Victor. “Nozzles are rotated. We’re gathering the wreckage now.”
“Hurry,” said Victor. “Lem doesn’t think he can hold them much longer.”
Mazer faced the others. “All right. Listen up. We make three teams of two. Each team has a fisherman and a hook. The fisherman anchors his boots here at the shaft entrance and holds one end of the rope. The hook ties the other end around his chest and thighs like so.” He raised his arms so they could see how he had tied the harness. “Then the hook leaps out and seizes a piece of wreckage. The fisherman reels them both back in, and the team works together to get the wreckage into the cart. If the piece proves too big for the cart, cut it down if the cuts can be made quickly. Otherwise ditch it and grab something else. Target pieces that are smaller than the cart but that have some mass to them. Engines, drive systems. We’re making cannon shot here. The denser the better. We keep fishing and loading until these carts are full. Shenzu, you’re with me.”
They all moved quickly, pairing off and making their harnesses.
Shenzu seized his end of the rope, set his boot magnets to maximum, and signaled to Mazer that he was ready. Mazer launched toward the wreckage and landed on a hunk of fuselage. It spun and twisted from the force of his impact, but Mazer held on. Shenzu quickly pulled in the slack on the rope, and the fuselage steadied. Mazer snapped his hand magnets to it and called back to Shenzu that he was ready. Shenzu pulled him in, and the two of them loaded the fuselage into one of the carts.
After fifteen minutes they had filled five carts. The wreckage was bulky and oddly shaped, so they only fit two to three pieces per cart, but Mazer figured it was enough to arm two launch tubes.
“Everybody take a cart,” said Mazer. “If you’re wearing a harness, consider wrapping the rope around the cart and pulling it like a horse. You’ll be able to see where you’re going. We form a line and we move double time. Shenzu you and Benyawe share a cart.”
“Because I’m old and feeble?” said Benyawe.
“Because we have five carts and six people,” said Mazer. “Because you’ve turned more nozzles than anyone and because we need you rested.” He had noticed her movements were becoming sluggish. He couldn’t have her slowing down the line.
“Now let’s move!”
They moved. Mazer led them out, pulling his cart behind him like a beast of burden. The load was weightless, but the wheels on the cart were old and rusting and slow to turn. After fifty meters Mazer’s legs felt as if they were on fire. He was pouring sweat. His water supply was nearly depleted. He pushed on, setting the pace, hurrying toward the launch tubes. The others followed, lagging slightly behind but hustling nonetheless.
They were still a short distance from the launch tubes, when Victor came over the radio. “Here they come!”
* * *
Victor had seen the landers on the nets. He knew they were large. He had seen how everything around them seemed small and insignificant in comparison—the aircraft that had attacked them, the jungles or mud slides that had surrounded them, the villages and cities near them. The landers had dwarfed them all. But in each of those images, the landers had been mostly submerged into the ground. Now he was seeing them in their entirety. Massive. Unstoppable. Mountains of mechanical engineering. A swarm of mining ships were firing at the landers, and Victor was relieved to see that the ships were in fact inflicting damage. Not much, but the landers’ surfaces were riddled with cuts and gouges and scorch marks. The landers might be big, but they weren’t indestructible.
They were coming in a line, Victor saw, one right behind the other. If he was going to destroy them both, he would have to do it quickly. There wouldn’t be much time between shots. He needed to destroy one with the gamma plasma and then chase the second one with the plasma beams back into the line of fire of the launch tubes. If the second one didn’t retreat from the gamma plasma, great. Victor would destroy it the same way as the first. But Victor didn’t suspect that would be the case. “Mazer, what’s your status?”
“We just reached the launch tubes with the carts.”
“I marked the tubes with paint,” said Victor.
“I see them,” said Mazer. “We’re moving there now. We’ll need a few minutes to load the wreckage.”
“You’ve got about four minutes. Maybe five. Then they’ll be on top of us.”
“We’ll load what we can,” said Mazer. “Hopefully it will be enough.”
Victor blinked a command to connect directly to Deen. “Talk to me, Deen.”
“You’re going to get one shot at this,” said Deen. “They’re big, yes. And that means they’re easy to hit. But it also means they’re resilient. Put the beams right through it, dead center. I say we wait until they’re as close as possible, directly above the nozzles so you can’t miss.”
“Lem,” said Victor. “Pull back your ships. Get the miners out.”
“Roger,” said Lem. “Good luck.”
Victor saw the holo model of the ship rotate. His hands were already on the levers and switches he would need. He had watched the vids a dozen times, learning from the Formics at the helm, studying how they handled the controls and moved the ship. He mimicked them now, moving the levers and rotating the ship.
Deen continued to make slight adjustments, and Victor continued to follow him. The minutes passed quickly, and the first lander had grown so large in the window that it seemed like a collision was inevitable.
“More to the left,” Deen said. “You’re rotating too quickly … Down four degrees … Left another degree … That’s it. Keep it coming. Almost. There you go. Now you’re tracking. Hold that rotation. You’ve got him.”
“Mazer, are you loaded?” Victor said.
“One of the tubes is loaded,” said Mazer. “That’s all we had time for.”
“That’s going to have to do,” said Victor.
“The underbelly is coming up,” said Deen. “You’re still tracking. Hold that rotation. Ten more seconds. Steady. Three. Two. One. FIRE!”
Victor spun the wheel clockwise as hard and fast as he could. On Deen’s helmetcam he saw the beams of gamma plasma explode outward, puncturing through the lander as if it were tissue paper. The lander continued moving forward, breaking apart.
“Now rotate back!” said Deen. “Come back, cut through it, slice it in half.”
Victor’s hand flew back to the levers. He stopped the rotation and rolled the ship back the way it had come, cutting through the lander like a saw as the lander continued its trajectory. There was cheering and shouting in his earpiece. From the mining ships, from Imala, from the team in the launch tubes.
The second lander was already retreating. Victor tried rotating faster, but the mothership wouldn’t respond fast enough. He wasn’t going to hit the other lander with the gamma plasma. “Get ready, Mazer.”
“I’m at the console,” said Mazer. “How do I fire?”
Victor pulled up Mazer’s helmetcam so he could see what Mazer was seeing. “Move your right hand to the right,” said Victor, “three levers over. There. That’s it. When Deen gives the signal, push that forward. Deen, you’re our eyes. Tell us when.”
“You need to move the ship, Victor,” said Deen.
The model of the ship rotated in Victor’s HUD. He tried to mimic it.
“Faster,” said Deen.
“I’m rotating as fast as I can,” said Victor.
“It’s opening!” said Deen. “It’s
opening!”
It was true. The bottom of the remaining lander was folding backward like two parting lips. A swarm of Formic transports and skimmers poured out, like a hive of angry wasps. Fifty. A hundred. All moving like a single mass, spiraling downward toward the mothership.
“Stay on the lander!” said Victor. “That’s our target!”
Deen gathered himself. “Ten degrees to the right. Two degrees down. Three degrees. Four. That’s it. Closer. Closer. Keep it coming. Keep it coming. Okay, now you’re tracking. You’ve got it, you’ve got it. Now, Mazer! FIRE!”
Mazer pushed the lever forward, and the contents of the launch tube exploded upward like a cannon. The wreckage moved so quickly, that Victor didn’t see it on his screen. All he saw was the top of the lander exploding, like the exit wound of a headshot. Large chunks of the lander’s hull spun away, leaving a gaping hole in the roof of it.
There were more cheers over the radio, but Victor ignored them. “We need to finish it with the gamma plasma, Deen. It’s wounded, but it’s not out. Guide me. Let’s go! Let’s go!”
Deen gave him the directions, helping him rotate. Victor sliced through the second lander once, twice, cutting it to pieces.
“They’re on the hull!” said Deen. “They’re landing.”
Victor turned the gamma plasma wheel hard counterclockwise, shutting it off. Then he looked at Deen’s helmetcam, and saw with horror that several transports had landed on the hull, surrounding Deen. Formics poured out of them, wearing pressure suits. Deen was already firing. His laser sliced through a whole row of them, cutting them in half. Their bodies burst apart like overripe fruit.
But the Formics were armed as well. And they had him from all sides. The darts came all at once. Deen didn’t even make a sound.
* * *
Lem spoke over the emergency frequency and addressed every mining ship that was there. They were nearly thirty in number. Corporates and free miners alike. Many of them were the surviving ships from the shield, but there were others there as well. He had called to them in desperation. When the landers had launched and escaped the atmosphere, Lem had sent out an emergency message to every ship within the sound of his voice. Ships docked at Luna. Ships in a holding pattern above Imbrium, waiting for permission to land. Come, he had said. For the good of Earth, for the good of the human race, come.
They had abandoned what they were doing and answered his call. Not all of them. But most had. Italians, Africans, Argentineans, Dutch. He had ordered them to slow the landers, and they had obeyed. Now here they were, outnumbered three or four to one.
“This is Lem Jukes. This war ends right here and right now. I will give five million credits in cash to the mining ship that takes out the most skimmers and transports. Repeat, five million credits in cash. Ships of the shield, only use shatter boxes if you’re sure of your target. I don’t want any friendly-fire casualties. And take out the transports landing on the mothership. Do not let them retake that ship.”
The miners rushed forward, whether out of a love for Earth or five million credits, Lem couldn’t say. But it didn’t matter. If the team held the ship, he’d get a thousand times that much for whatever tech they recovered inside.
Lem dove at a transport and sliced it in half. He spun away and sliced through another one. Then a third. They were all packed so tightly together, it was hard to miss.
A mining ship to his left was cut to ribbons, attacked by four transports at once. The transports didn’t stop, even when it was obvious the mining ship was lost. They crashed into it like kamikaze fighters, using themselves as missiles and tearing the ship to shrapnel. It wasn’t until Lem had flown past and checked his holofield that he realized he knew the ship well. It was the Makarhu, the ship he had captained to the Kuiper Belt. Chubs and the crew were gone.
* * *
A short distance away, well out of the fighting, Imala watched the battle unfold and again felt completely helpless. I should be among them, she told herself. They need all the help they can get.
If she could only ditch the radiation shields that covered her weapons. If she could shed them somehow, she might be useful. But no, that was impossible. She had watched Victor weld the plates on, she had seen how meticulously and carefully he had ensured she was properly shielded.
Two skimmers broke away from the fighting and moved unhindered toward the other side of the Formic ship. None of the mining ships gave chase. In the confusion of the battle, none of them seemed to notice.
Where are you going? Imala wondered. She grabbed the stick and accelerated, taking off after them. They were making for the hole in the back of the ship, she realized, the hole the gamma plasma had made. They were trying to get inside the ship that way.
“Victor, can you read?”
“Imala, please tell me you’re safe on Luna.”
“There are two skimmers heading for the hole in the ship. If they land, if they get through, they will make for the helm. You need to get out of there.”
“I’m not leaving, Imala. We’re holding this ship.”
“Then call the others to come help you.”
“They’ve got their hands full, Imala. The Formics are pouring down the launch tubes.”
She came around the other side of the ship just in time to see the two skimmers fly into the hole. “They’re inside, Victor. They’re in. I’m going after them.”
“Negative, Imala. You are not equipped. You have no way to stop them, nowhere for you to go. You can’t land in here.”
She ignored him. The hole was the same size as the tunnel of gamma plasma she had flown through. She could do this. And she did have a weapon, she realized—she did have a way to stop them. Her fighter. Herself. She could ram them from behind, she could push them into something, crush them.
She angled her approach to come at the hole head on. She saw the skimmers now, far inside the ship. They had stopped to a slow drift, and Formics in pressure suits were leaping from them and clinging to the inside of the mothership, grabbing at anything they could. Two of them scurried into the ship, disappearing from view. Then two more. It was too late to stop them, but she could stop the others.
“Imala, listen to me,” said Victor. “Don’t do this. You can’t stop in the tunnel.”
But she could stop. She would stop. But not before she did her part, not before she did what she could to save him.
She entered the hole. The interior of the ship rushed past her. Her console was beeping. “Warning! Warning! Collision imminent.”
It all happened in an instant. She collided with the first skimmer and sent it careening into the wall. Her impact foam inflated, slamming her back against her seat and encasing her in a tight inflatable cloud. The skimmer bounced back and hit her. By then she had rotated. She struck something protruding from inside the ship—she never saw what—and started spinning end over end down the tunnel. She smashed into the second skimmer and crushed it. The Formics were thrown, shattered, ripped apart. She saw it all happen in her HUD in a blurred, spinning flash of violence, and then she struck something else, and all went black.
* * *
They were pouring down the launch tubes in a flood of bodies. Hundreds of them, rushing downward in a fury. Already there were twenty or more inside the ship, firing their weapons. Caruso was down, a dozen darts in his chest and back and throat. Bungy and Lobo had found cover with Benyawe and were mowing down Formics from their position, slicing through them as quickly as they could.
But it wasn’t fast enough, Mazer realized. The Formics would overrun them any minute. “Lobo, we need to seal the tubes shut and launch them. Bungy, hold your position with Benyawe. Lobo, you take the tubes on the right. I’ll take the tubes on the left. Do you know which lever to push?”
“Affirmative.”
“Don’t worry about orientation. There is no orientation in space. Launch back and forth between walls. Upside down, right side up. It doesn’t matter. Keep your movements random. Change your approach eve
ry time. Don’t give them a pattern to follow. Don’t let them predict where you’ll be.”
“I got it.”
“Bungy,” said Mazer. “Give us as much cover as you can.”
“Will do.”
“Ready,” said Mazer. “Launch!” He pushed off with his feet. Landed on the wall nearby and launched again. In three quick leaps he was at the console. He spun the big wheel, closing all the tubes at the top and bottom and trapping hundreds of Formics inside. Then he pressed the lever to launch the tube nearest him. The mechanism shot upward, catapulting the Formics up against the ceiling and into each other in a bone-crushing mass of suits and limbs and broken bodies.
Mazer didn’t stick around to relish the moment. He was already leaping away, moving to the next tube, repeating the process. Darts pinged on the wall where he had been only a moment before. He fired his laser as he twisted through the air, taking out a cluster of three Formics who were giving him chase. He reached the second tube. A large crowd of Formics was gathered at the base of the tube, scratching at the locked hatch in a desperate attempt to climb inside. Mazer pushed down the lever, launched the tube, and sent them to their deaths instead.
* * *
Imala blinked her eyes open and thought she might be sick. She felt dizzy and disoriented and sore. The world was warbling like a tapped tuning fork. Her whole body was one giant bruise. She initiated her helmet lights and gave the order to deflate the foam. It unstiffened and she pushed it away from her face.
“Imala, can you hear me?”
Victor’s voice. “Vico. Hi. Don’t let me forget where I parked.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Not at all. Just sitting here sipping lemonade with my feet up.”
“Let me rephrase. Where are you hurt?”
“Pretty much everywhere. But I don’t think anything’s broken. Your precious shields took most of the impact. And my new best friend, Mr. Impact Foam.”
Earth Awakens (The First Formic War) Page 39