"Yes, Victor. I am. I'm a better pilot than you are. We both know that, and maneuvering this thing through that debris field will require a steady hand."
"I'll be drifting at a negligible speed," said Victor. "I think I can manage."
"A thousand things could go wrong, Victor. We drastically increase our chances of success if there are two of us."
"Absolutely not, Imala. I'm not letting you put yourself in danger like that."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're not letting me? You're not my supervisor, Vico."
"I know that. Of course not. What I mean is ... this is my fight, Imala. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you because of me. You shouldn't have to take this risk."
Imala breathed out, brushed a long errant hair out of her face, and turned to Lem. "Would you excuse us, please?"
Lem smiled. "As much as I'd hate missing the rest of this conversation, I'll leave you two to figure it out." He moved to leave then turned back. "But whatever you decide, choose the method that will most likely result in success. I'm not paying all this money to see that tiny shuttle blown to smithereens." He walked away, leaving the duffel bag at Victor's feet.
When he was gone Imala said, "I appreciate you being concerned about me, Vico, and I recognize that you have a lot invested in this fight. You've lost half your family, and I can't begin to imagine the kind of hurt that brings. But you're wrong about one thing. This is not your fight. This is my fight, too. I haven't lost my family, true, but if the Formics don't stop, I will lose them. I'll lose everything. And I'm not going to sit here and do nothing and allow that to happen when there's a way for me to contribute. You've lost your home, Vico, but I'm losing mine as we speak. Right now Earth is burning, and that gives me just as much right as you have." She leaned against the recon ship and folded her arms. "But even if none of that were true, Vico, even if I had no stake in this whatsoever, practically speaking it makes sense for both of us to go. You can broadcast to me what you see and find inside the ship. That way, if you die I can carry what you've learned and recorded back to Luna. I can make sure that intel gets to people who can use it and act upon it and end this war. I don't want anything to happen to you, of course, but that intel would be more valuable than both of our lives."
Victor was quiet a moment. She was right of course. He couldn't argue with any of it. "We'll both have to wear suits the entire trip, which means we'll have to double our oxygen supply, which means we'll be crammed inside the cockpit practically on top of each other the whole trip. It will be very uncomfortable. There will be zero personal space."
She smiled. "At least we'll have helmets on. That way, if either of us has bad breath, only the culprit will suffer for it."
"I'm serious, Imala. It won't be pleasant. We'll be cramped."
Imala put a hand on his shoulder. "Victor, we're going up against an indestructible alien ship that just wiped out most of Earth's space fleet. Uncomfortable seating is the least of our problems."
CHAPTER 26
Biomass
Mazer and Bingwen set out for the lander three hours before dawn under the cover of darkness. Bingwen led the way, the gas mask pulled down securely over his head, his boots padding quietly through the mud. They moved quickly, talking little, Mazer scanning the sky around them for any sign of troop transports.
They weren't likely to see any, Mazer knew--not until it was too late anyway. The transports were near silent and used no exterior lights, making them practically invisible at night. If one did come into view, it would likely be right when the lander was on top of them. And what could Mazer and Bingwen do at that point but fight and hope for the best? They couldn't run for cover. There was none. Not anymore. In the north there had been patches of jungle in which to conceal themselves, but here, near the lander, the Formics had left nothing. Every sprout and sapling and blade of grass had been stripped or burned away, leaving a landscape so barren and devoid of any life that it was as if Mazer and Bingwen had stepped off of Earth and walked onto another planet entirely.
"If I tell you to run, you run," said Mazer. "Do you understand? No questions asked, no hesitating. Immediate obedience."
"Immediate obedience," Bingwen repeated.
"It could mean your life, Bingwen. It could mean both of our lives. If I tell you to drop, you drop. If I say jump in the river, you jump in the river."
"The river's probably polluted," said Bingwen. "
All of the runoff from the mist is in that water. I might die if I swim in that."
"You see? That's the type of hesitation I'm speaking of. You can't question my orders. Ever. If I tell you to jump in a polluted river, it's only because every other option means death. It means the chances of surviving a polluted river, however slim, are greater than the chances of surviving not jumping in it."
"River. Jump. I got it."
Mazer stopped and took a knee, facing him. "I'm serious, Bingwen. If I give you an order, it's only to keep you alive. It may contradict what you think is best or what you want to do, but you must obey it. That has to be instinct. You have to believe with absolute certainty that anything I tell you will be for your good."
Bingwen nodded. "I believe that."
"So if I tell you to crouch down and take cover..."
"I crouch and take cover."
"And if I tell you to hide in a hole..."
"I make like a snake and hide."