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"I flew an antigrav ship on Earth," said Mazer. "I'm familiar with flying with minimal gravity."
"Minimal gravity is a world away from zero gravity," said Imala. "You're used to maintaining an orientation. This fighter has boosters on all sides to maintain a straight course. You've never flown that way. None of you have. It has to be me."
Several people turned to Wit, deferring to him.
"If Imala says she can do it, I believe her," said Wit. "What about radiation, Victor? If she's flying through a tunnel of gamma plasma, won't she die of radiation poisoning?"
It took a second for Victor to gather his thoughts. He was staring at Imala, who was looking back at him, arms folded defiantly, daring him to question her. "We've ... added several layers of shielding to the fighter," said Victor. "That should protect her. Also she'll be wearing a radiation suit like the rest of us."
"Why not use a drone?" said Mazer. "Wouldn't that be safer?"
"We considered that," said Victor, "but the radiation from the gamma plasma would interfere with the drone pilot's connection to the spacecraft. A human pilot inside the vessel is more reliable."
"Sooner or later she's going to fly into the Formic ship," said Mazer.
"She'll be decelerating the whole time," said Victor. "And we don't think the Formics will fire the gamma plasma for very long. Once the crew at the helm realizes what's happening, they'll shut off the gamma plasma. At that point the vacuum of space will work to our advantage. Any remaining radiation will be sucked out into space. We wait an hour or so to ensure it's clear, than we go in, mop up, and seize the helm."
Victor made a gesture with his stylus, and the holofield disappeared. "That's it. The ship will be ours."
Everyone waited for Wit to respond. He looked around the room. "All right, people. Let's shoot holes in this. What are we forgetting?"
There were several questions. Someone asked about the suits they would wear. Benyawe answered, pulling up the holofield again and showing them the radiation suits her team had designed.
"How long will we be in these suits?" asked ZZ.
"The cocoon flight to the ship will take three days," said Benyawe. "That's a long time to remain motionless, but you need to drift that slowly. We dare not risk you moving any faster. The suit will stimulate your muscles, and you can access food and water at any time through straws in your suit."
"How do we go to the bathroom?" asked Bungy.
Benyawe pointed to the apparatuses on the suit and explained.
"Looks painful," said Deen.
"Like all things in space," said Victor. "It takes some getting used to."
They talked for another hour, hashing out the details; then Mazer, Shenzu, and the MOPs followed Victor into the cargo bay. Victor had them line up along one wall while holding the handrail. He showed them how to launch, point their bodies, and rotate midflight to land feetfirst on the opposite wall. It was a simple move he was sure they would grasp easily, but when he invited them to try, they were awkward and tentative. "I feel like I'm going to fall," said Deen, clinging to the handrail. "I know there's no gravity, but my brain doesn't want to release the idea of an up and down. It wants to maintain the orientation we had when we came in here."
After several attempts, they gradually began to master the mechanics of the movements; although none of them ever felt particularly comfortable doing so. "Flying in the corridor is easier," said ZZ. "There's an up and down out there, and the space is confined. When we come into a big room like this, I feel this existential panic."
"It's not easy to rewire the brain," said Wit. "And that's essentially what we're doing here."
It struck Victor as strange that anyone would struggle with such an easy movement. It was second nature to him. He had been flying and launching since before he was walking.
"What's the trick, space born?" asked Deen. "You make this look easy."
Victor shrugged. "No trick. I root myself like each of you. I just do it without a gravity-conditioned mind."
"If we weren't trained paratroopers, we'd be doing much worse," said Cocktail. "We've got landing and rolling down. It's the leaping and positioning of the body that's difficult."
They practiced for several hours, making gradual improvements. Victor began to wonder if they would have been better off enlisting miners, who were clearly more accustomed to maneuvering in zero-G. But no, once they got the practice weapons out, it became obvious that the MOPs' soldiering skills were far more critical here. Their individual movements might be imperfect, but they thought as a group, functioned as a team, often without even speaking to one another.
Next Victor brought out the practice pipes that Benyawe and her team had built. They were similar in design to the pipes and nozzles of the Formic ship. Victor and two of the MOPs set them up on the far wall, and they practiced flying to them and rotating the nozzles.
They ran the drill over and over again. They practiced cutting thick sheets of metal with the laser cutters. They flew up and down the tight corridors of the Valas. They set up targets in the corridors and practiced hitting those on the move. They split into two teams and battled against each other. They played again with all of them against Wit. Or all of them against a group of three. Shenzu and Mazer held their own against the others. Victor was no soldier, and despite his superior maneuverability, he was almost always the first person tagged.
When they stopped hours later, they were all soaked in sweat.
That night no one had trouble sleeping. The Valas continued its slow approach to the Formic ship, and the next day they did all the same drills again, only now while wearing their bulky radiation suits. They were far less graceful in those, but they quickly adapted to the slight decrease in mobility. Benyawe joined them in their exercises. No one objected to her being part of their group, especially when they saw how easily she flew or how deftly she handled the tools and nozzles.
