Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

“We have our weapon. Let’s move.”
    They didn’t waste any time. Wit, Calinga, and Mazer dressed in their helmets and cool-suits.
    Mazer knelt in front of Bingwen. “You’ll stay here with the MOPs and do what they say. I’ll be back soon.”
    “You better,” said Bingwen.
    *   *   *
     
    Calinga drove Mazer to the airfield. There, Mazer climbed into one of the HERCs, flew it back to the valley, and picked up one of the drill sledges with the HERC’s talons. Then he carried the drill sledge north, staying low to the ground and scanning for enemy aircraft. He found a steep hill five kilometers south of the lander where the drill sledges could easily dig into the earth. Mazer then set down the drill sledge by the hillside and flew back to the valley twice more to retrieve the other two drill sledges. On the last trip he brought back Wit and Calinga with him. Three drill sledges, three pilots.
    When they were ready to climb into their respective drills, Wit said, “We’ll go deep, get directly under the lander, then surge upward. We’ll come in at a slight angle and hit the lander in the center. All three of us will penetrate the hull and tear our way inside. I’ll carry the nuke with me in my cockpit. Once we’re in, I’ll exit my drill sledge and leave the nuke inside. Then I’ll climb into Calinga’s drill with him. The two remaining drill sledges will then dig like hell to get deep and avoid the blast.”
    “Why leave the nuke in one of the drill sledges?” said Calinga.
    “We can’t leave the nuke in the open,” said Wit. “We don’t know the Formics’ capabilities. They might recognize the nuke as a threat and disarm it before it detonates. We can’t risk that. The drill sledge will act like a vault. The Formics won’t be able to reach the nuke if it stays in the cockpit. Detonation is practically guaranteed.”
    “Fine,” said Calinga, “but I’m carrying the nuke with me. I’m much smaller than you, so there’s far more room for it in my cockpit. Once we’re in the lander I’ll leave it behind and climb into Mazer’s drill sledge with him. Same plan, just different people. And don’t argue, Wit. You know it makes sense. Mazer is a better pilot than you, and again, size matters. You’re almost as big as the both of us together. Mazer and I will fit much easier in a cockpit than either of us will fit with you. I know you don’t like me taking the risk when you can, but my way is strategically sound.”
    “You’re right,” said Wit. “You carry the package. Mazer, how far below the lander do we need to be to pick up enough speed to penetrate the hull?”
    “I’m not sure we can penetrate the hull,” said Mazer. “I don’t know what it’s composed of. We might cut through it, we might not.”
    “Assuming we can,” said Wit.
    “Three hundred meters at least,” said Mazer.
    “All right,” said Wit. “You take point, Mazer. Calinga and I will be on either side of you, tracking parallel.”
    They climbed into their respective drill sledges and fired up the drills. Moments later they were each digging into the side of the hill, spewing back hot lava. Once underground, Mazer began a long gradual descent, heading for a spot three hundred meters below the lander. His cool-suit did its best to maintain a normal body temperature, but it erred on the side of cold. In moments, Mazer’s fingers felt stiff and he could see his own breath inside his helmet. His visor frosted at the edges, but fans cycled air through the helmet and kept the visor from fogging completely.
    The deeper they went below the surface, the more solid rock they encountered and the faster they moved. They tried not to go hot too often since they couldn’t communicate when they moved at those speeds, but at times it couldn’t be avoided.
    Mazer watched the depth-gauge holo on his dash. When they drew close to the lander, the holo filled with crisscrossing white lines. “The Formics must be tunnelers,” he said. “It’s like an ant colony down here.”
    “Maybe we’ll get lucky and run into a few Formics,” said Calinga. “And I mean that literally. We grind them up and spit them out the back.”
    They finally got into position, three hundred meters below the surface, almost directly below the lander. Mazer was practically on his back in his seat, wiggling his fingers and toes, trying to keep his blood circulating. It wasn’t doing any good. “I’m ready, Wit. Give the word before