CHAPTER 29
Mothership
Victor got his hand on the shuttle door, ready to open it. The instruments on the dash indicated that the Formic ship was only six hundred meters away now, practically on top of them. "We're going to make it, Imala," he said. "They're not going to vaporize us." He watched the numbers tick down as they drifted in closer ... closer.
He had known that being cramped in a cockpit with Imala for a few days would be awkward and uncomfortable, but he hadn't expected the experience to be downright miserable. It was worse than being in the quickship for nine months. At least in the quickship he could do whatever he wanted and not have to worry about being indecorous. If he had to belch, he belched. If he had to urinate, he did. Here, not only was Imala practically right on top of him and thus likely aware of everything he was doing biologically inside his spacesuit, but he was also aware of her every move and sound.
Plus their bulky helmets were practically touching, so it was as if they were huddled together and staring at each other. Nonstop. For two days.
"Be careful," said Imala. "When you open the door, do it slowly. Sudden movements might set them off."
"Anything could set them off. Heat signatures might set them off."
"They can detect those?"
"They can travel at near-lightspeed, Imala. Who knows what they can do?"
"It would've been nice to have known that before we set out."
"If you wait until you know everything, you never do anything."
"Who are you quoting? Ben Franklin? Sun Tzu?"
"My father."
The dash gave a beep, signaling it was time for him to leave. Imala flipped off the interior lights. "You can do this, Vico. And if it gets to the point where you don't want to do it anymore, then we turn around. We didn't come here for either of us to die. We'll do more good if we live. Remember that."
"Live. Yes. A good plan." He turned the handle and slowly opened the door, easing it outward. When it was wide enough, he pulled himself out, weightless. The Formic ship was like a red mountain in front of him. He was nothing compared to it. A dot. A gnat. How could he possibly stop something so big?
He slowly pulled out the duffel bag with his tools and the explosive, which suddenly felt hopelessly inadequate considering the size of the thing in front of him.
The shuttle drifted forward. Victor eased the door closed.
They couldn't have the shuttle float into the Formic ship. Having the two touch felt like a risk. It was better if Imala stopped the shuttle shy of the ship and Victor flew the remaining distance alone.
"I'm clear, Imala."
"Roger that. Go easy. Come right back if anything feels wrong."
"Everything feels wrong already. You should see the size of this thing. It's like a moon."
"Firing retros," she said.
Near-imperceptible bursts of air slowed the shuttle. Victor continued on, floating toward the gleaming red metallic wall. No guns sprang out. No Formics emerged.
He landed soft as a kiss, the magnets in his hands and feet anchoring him to the surface. Now that he was close, he could clearly see closed apertures all over the surface of the ship. They appeared to be made of the same material as the hull, which kept them invisible from a distance. Each was the size of a dinner plate, and there were tens of thousands of them, all lined in neat rows that stretched from one end of the ship to the other.
His destination was the place in the hull where the gun emerged, and he took a moment to orient himself and locate it. He would have to crawl across the hull a short distance to reach it, he realized. Stepping lightly, he set out. As he moved he wondered if Father had landed near here. He looked around him, searching for any signs of a struggle or a breached or repaired hull but saw nothing.
He found the place where the gun emerged. He could see the seams in the hull where it opened or parted. It was time. He anchored the duffel bag and removed the remote control. He and Imala had deposited the decoy ten klicks away. He flipped on the control and punched the throttle. At first he saw nothing. But soon he saw a dot in the distance among the debris that was moving toward him. He increased the speed. The decoy slammed into a smaller piece of debris in its path, and the two ricocheted off each other. For a moment Victor lost control of the decoy, but he quickly regained it and righted the craft's course.
There was movement beneath him. Gears turning, pieces shifting, a machine coming to life. He could feel it in his feet.
The hull opened silently. The gun extended and unfolded itself from the hole like a giant mechanical flower opening its petals and stretching outward. It was fifty times bigger than he had thought it would be, bigger than a shuttle. It had looked so small at a distance in the vids.
The remote control was long forgotten. He was at the lip of the hole now, shining his light down into the blackness. The space was immense. There appeared to be corners and nooks and passageways down there. Perhaps one of them led into the ship. He couldn't tell from here.
The ground shook. The giant flower was firing. Victor looked behind him. The decoy ship was now a puff of shattered pieces. Victor turned back, working frantically. His window of opportunity was closing. He needed to keep this hole open. But how? He had envisioned a space much smaller than this. He had brought a bar to force into the hole and wedge it open to allow him to climb inside, but the bar was clearly too short. How could he have been so wrong about that?