"They're wrong," said Lem. "The Formic guns are only the first line of their defense. The ship itself is a much more lethal weapon. There are apertures all over the surface. Any of them can open and fire laserized gamma plasma in any direction. I've seen it happen. The shuttles don't stand a chance. When do they plan to do this?"
"In about forty-eight hours," said Simona.
"You have to stop them."
"That's your job. That's what the interviews are for. Tell the world what you know. You don't have to exaggerate. You don't have to lie. Be honest. You and your crew have seen the Formics up close. No one else has. Convince the U.S. to withdraw and let Ukko conduct a drone strike."
"I've already told you. Drones with glasers could be a bad idea. I'm not endorsing that approach. If you want me to say that in an interview, forget it. You'll have to find someone else to do that."
"Fine. We will. Say what you think is best. But if you say anything against the drones, we'll only cut it out later, so don't bother. Just help us stop the U.S. assault. You'd be saving lives."
"Spare me the saving-lives argument. You and I both know that Father wants to be the hero here. He doesn't want the U.S. and its allies taking out the mothership because he wants that glory for himself. I know how my father thinks, Simona. If it doesn't benefit him, he doesn't care."
"You really don't think much of him, do you?"
She would echo everything he said to Father, but at the moment he didn't care. Right now his mind was racing. A spark of an idea had ignited. What if this was the opportunity he had been waiting for? The drone strike was destined to fail. And yet Father was putting all his eggs in that basket. Fifty drones and fifty glasers. A massive fortune. Not enough to bankrupt the company, but certainly enough to pass a vote of no confidence in Father and boot him off his throne once the glasers and drones were destroyed. The Board couldn't ignore a mistake like that.
It would take some time and effort to rebuild the company, of course, but Lem had rebuilt companies before. Never on this scale, but the game was the same regardless of the company's size.
Booting Father wouldn't be enough, though, he knew. Lem also had to position himself as the rightful successor, and having Father elevate him as a national hero certainly wouldn't hurt in that effort. The Board would have their eye on Lem. They would be desperate to rebuild the company's image, and what better way to do that than with a media darling with proven business success who just happens to be the founder's tenacious son?
Granted, the Formics would still be an issue. That would need addressing as well. But they were an enemy for another day. Right now Father was the one with the exposed flank, and Lem wasn't about to ignore it.
Lem straightened his jacket and gestured to the door. "Let's get this over with."
She looked relieved. "You're doing the right thing, Lem. People need to hear this story. And don't edit yourself. Give it some drama. People want drama."
"Relax, Simona. I'll have them biting their nails."
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CHAPTER 22
Crows
The airlock was small, but all fifteen women managed to squeeze inside it.
Rena pulled the interior hatch closed--sealing them off from the cargo bay--then she spun the wheel and secured the lock. The exterior hatch, on the opposite wall, was now all that separated them from the vacuum of space.
"Check the suit of the person beside you," said Rena. "Look for punctures, scratches, any sign of structural deterioration, especially at creases: elbows, armpits, back of the knees. Make sure everyone's suit is airtight." Their pressure suits were newer and nicer than anything they had ever had on board El Cavador, but Rena wasn't taking any chances.
The women obeyed without hesitation. They had come to trust Rena's leadership when it came to the equipment. "Check your oxygen levels," said Rena. "Fiddle with the air valves, make sure you have manual control of your air intake if you need it. Know what you're breathing. Monitor your mixture. Ask your helmet to run a full scan of life support. If any of your biometrics are off, if you sense the tiniest of glitches, speak up now. This is not a drill this time. This is the real. No mistakes."
Their faces were visible through their visors, and Rena could see that many of them were nervous. Rena didn't blame them. She was afraid as well. Most of them hadn't done a spacewalk in years; it was the men on El Cavador who had done all the mining. Worse still, crows didn't use lifelines--or the long hoses that connected to the back of a spacesuit and kept a person anchored to the ship. On El Cavador, going outside without a lifeline was suicide, the most dangerous, reckless, stupid decision a miner could make. The lifeline was exactly what its name implied. Power and air came down the lifeline, and if you were ever in trouble, if you needed a quick rescue, the lifeline was the means by which you were pulled back into the ship.
But lifelines were impossible with scavenger work. The wreckage constantly moved; lifelines would knot and twist and kink once everyone got on board. Plus the insides of ships were mazes, with corridors extending in any direction; lines would too easily twist and tangle and tie into knots. Then there was the risk of severing a lifeline on the sharp edges from torn metal and wreckage.
No, portable oxygen and batteries were better for scavenger work. Yet lifelines were the only type of spacewalking any of the women had ever done. The idea of going out into the black without a tether was terrifying.
"We're going to be fine," Rena assured them. "We've been practicing for this."
She moved to the exterior hatch and looked out the small porthole at the wreckage outside. It was difficult to tell what type of ship it had been. The alien weapons had blown most of it to bits during the battle, leaving only this rear section intact.
She turned back to the group and lifted her arms high over her head. "Stretch out. Muscles need to be loose for takeoff and landing."
The women complied, bending their legs and getting loose. Rena took a moment to reposition some of the gear she had strapped to her shoulders and belt. Arjuna had loaded each of them with salvaging tools. Rena carried a rotating saw, industrial shears, and a dozen other smaller tools stuffed into her suit's many pockets.
Arjuna's voice sounded in their helmets. "Move quickly. Don't waste time on parts of little value." He was up in the helm, monitoring them, tracking the wreckage. "When you enter a room, look at everything. Put a price on every piece you see. And remember that the most valuable pieces may not be out in the open. Look for pipes, wiring, conduit. Follow them to their source. Find whatever they're powering or pumping from. Rip back panels. Expose everything. Then go to what's worth the most and start cutting." He was repeating himself. He had drilled this into them for weeks now. "And how much extra do you cut away?"