"There is a public dock south of Old City in Covington Square. Do you know the place?"
"I know it," said Imala.
"Meet me there in one hour," said Yanyu.
Imala flew them toward Old City, and Lunar Guidance brought them in the rest of the way. They docked, deboarded, and found Yanyu waiting for them in an all-night cafe, dressed and presentable. They took a booth in the back away from everyone else.
"You left without saying good-bye," said Yanyu.
"Ukko was eager to get us on our way," said Victor.
"That is what we assumed," said Yanyu. "He would not want you talking about Lem. Lawyers came to Dr. Prescott and me when you left. They made us sign nondisclosure agreements saying that we would never speak of Lem or of any attack his ship may have made."
"Is that legally binding?" asked Imala.
Yanyu shrugged. "We could argue that we signed it while under duress, but it would not matter anyway. It would never get to court."
"I'm sorry you got involved," said Victor. "I didn't mean to drag you into it."
Yanyu shrugged again. "I do not think about it. There are more pressing matters elsewhere."
"Tell us about the past seven days," said Imala.
Yanyu frowned, grim. "First there was the nuclear strike."
Victor and Imala stiffened. "Against the mothership?" asked Imala.
"Do not get excited," said Yanyu. "It was a failure. The Formics destroyed the missiles long before they reached the ship. Their guns hit them, and the bombs exploded. The blast of electromagnetic radiation destroyed dozens of satellites and damaged much of the existing communications grid. It is a miracle Luna can still contact Earth. It could have wiped out the whole system."
"The Formics weren't hurt at all?" asked Imala.
"Not that we could detect," said Yanyu. "And it gets worse. Yesterday the U.S. and a few other nations launched an assault against the mothership using a fleet of over fifty manned ships. That attempt failed as well. Now debris from the destroyed ships and shuttles is floating around the mothership. Thousands died. It was awful."
"Why is the debris collected around the Formic ship?" asked Victor. "The wreckage should have shot off in every direction when the ships broke apart."
"The Formic ship has some kind of field around it," said Yanyu. "Magnetic somehow. It's not strong enough to catch everything, but it catches the smaller pieces. It's a mess up there. The debris field is several hundred klicks thick."
"Did the Formics sustain any damage?" asked Imala.
"Not exactly," said Yanyu. "There are a few scorch marks from laser
fire, but no structural damage that we could see. For us, however, it was a massacre. People are calling it the end of any large-scale space-based offensive."
"What about China?" asked Imala. "What's the status on the ground?"
Here Yanyu became solemn and quiet. "It is terrible. The casualty estimates are now above the two-million mark, and the military has not landed any major victories. The three landers still stand. The air forces have hit them with everything, and every attempt fails. Now the Formics have built mountains of biomass from stripped vegetation, dead animals, human corpses, all thrown together like giant piles of garbage. No one knows why, but there are plenty of gruesome photos on the nets, which I suggest you avoid."
"Have you heard from your family?" Imala asked.
Yanyu nodded. "My mother and father fled Guangzhou on a shipping boat to Vietnam. From there they flew to London. They only got out because they're wealthy. All of my friends and extended family are still in China. My father is trying to get out as many as he can, but the boats are few and the price for passage grows every day. There are thousands that gather at the shipyards every morning, but only a few ships get out. The crowds have turned violent. Some people literally kill to get passage."
"Survival instincts," said Victor. "Parents will do anything to save their children."
"It's too horrible to think about," said Yanyu. "That is not the China I remember."
"What else have you heard?" asked Imala.
"Nothing good. I have many friends in China on the nets. They send me images and vids they've taken of the destruction. I used to open their attachments. I don't anymore. I don't have the stomach for it. I have some net friends who haven't answered my e-mails or logged on in weeks. I don't know if they're dead or alive." Her eyes misted, but she kept her voice steady. "I feel so helpless here. My country burns, and I can do nothing. I cannot even enlist." She held up her gimp arm. "I tried, but they would not accept me."