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He removed his helmetcam and positioned it up in the corner near the ceiling, giving him a clear view of the console and main instrument panel. Then he backed out of the helm and hid himself in the shaft. "Have you ever been inside the helm of a big ship, Imala? Especially when there's a threat nearby?"
"No."
"It's chaos. People yelling across the room, passing intel, sharing computer readouts. It's loud, fast-paced, and highly collaborative. Everyone is making sure everyone else has all the information they need to do their jobs right."
"And yet the Formics at the helm act like the others don't even exist," said Imala.
"None of them talk at all," said Victor. "It's completely silent. We knew the soldier Formics on Earth were silent, but I had always assumed that was because they were so focused on the business of killing. But these Formics here, they should be in crisis mode. They were just attacked. They would be on high alert. And did you watch them? Did you notice how they did things simultaneously, even when they weren't looking at one another?"
"It was almost as if they were speaking to each other," said Imala.
"Exactly. In fact, I think they are speaking to each other. Only they do it in a way we can't see. Mind to mind."
"You mean telepathy?"
"I know it sounds absurd, Imala, but they respond instantly to stimuli that they can't possibly have known about unless someone told them. And yet no one tells them anything." He crawled out of his hiding place. "I left my helmetcam in the helm. Keep recording everything. I'm coming back your way. We're returning to Luna. I've learned everything I can here."
"Hallelujah. Be careful."
He made his way back, retracing his route, staying in the shadows and avoiding being seen. The wide shaft by the garden went directly to the cargo bay as he had hoped. The flotsam from the human ships had drifted back up into the center of the room. The repair crew was nowhere in sight. Victor made his way to the shaft he had first used and followed it back to where he had cut his way into the ship. He crawled outside, sealed the hole, removed the bubble, and flew back up to where the Formic cannon lay crushed against the side of the hull. There was a hole among the wreckage large enough for him to crawl through, and he wiggled out, free of the ship.
He spotted the shuttle, aimed his body, and pushed off lightly, exerting just enough force to move at a slow drift. It took him over an hour to reach the shuttle at that pace. When he crawled back into the cockpit, he was so happy to see Imala that he extended his arms to embrace her. She made a face and held up a hand, stopping him. "You've got Formic dung and glow-bug juice all over your suit. Don't even think about touching me."
Victor wiped a speck of gunk off his chest and wiggled the soiled finger in front of her.
Imala was not amused. "Any closer and I will break that finger."
He smiled, grabbed the wipes from
their compartment, and began cleaning himself. "I'm alive, Imala. I didn't think I would be, but here I am, kicking and breathing. It's going to take more than your sour grumpiness to dampen this mood."
"We've made a video, Vico. That's it. We haven't ended the war."
"Focus too closely on the goal you haven't accomplished, and you'll fail to notice the victories you achieve along the way."
"Who said that?" Imala asked. "Churchill? Sun Tzu?"
"No," said Victor. "My father."
Imala looked up from the console, smiling. "You're right. This is a victory, isn't it? A big one. Maybe someone will see this vid and know how to destroy the ship."
A wide grin broke across Victor's face. "But Imala, my sweet, that someone is me. I know precisely how to destroy this ship."
She stared at him. "Then why are we leaving?"
"Because we can't do it alone. We need the right crew. When we have them, we'll come back and finish this."
"We're coming back?"
Victor pulled himself into his seat and began buckling up. "Never leave a job unfinished, Imala."
She turned back to the flight controls. "More quotes from your father?"
"No. That one is all me."
CHAPTER 7
Dozers
