Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

each glaser at just the right instant. The spinning motion and additional guidance from us will sling them to opposite sides of the asteroid, where these anchor braces will dig into the rock.” She indicated the teethlike claws on the sides of the shatter boxes. “All that’s left is pushing the button and letting the glasers rip the rock to shreds. The two gravity fields will interact, counter each other, and keep the destructive reach of the fields to a minimum.”
    “So it works,” said Lem.
    “In the computer models, yes. It’s much safer than the current design.”
    “Then why aren’t you clicking your heels in glee?” said Lem. “Or am I missing something?”
    “There is a problem, yes,” said Benyawe.
    “Which is?”
    “Money. The original glaser isn’t destroyed every time we use it. The shatter boxes are. They’re consumed in the gravity field along with everything else. That’s enormously expensive and would offset most of the profit we’d reap from mining the asteroid. It’s not cost effective.”
    “Then make it cost effective,” said Lem. “Use cheaper components and materials, shrink the size of the shatter boxes, remove anything that’s not absolutely essential. Do whatever it takes.”
    She was quiet a moment then asked, “Are you sure this is how we should be spending our time, Lem?”
    “How else would you be spending it?”
    “Finding a way to fight the Formics.”
    “My dear sweet Dr. Benyawe, what do you think you’ve been doing?”
    She seemed confused. “You want to fire these at the Formic ship?”
    “I want to use them however we can. If they can safely destroy asteroids, maybe they can safely destroy the ship or whatever happens to be inside it.”
    “We’ll never catch it before it reaches Earth. And if it enters Earth’s atmosphere, it’s beyond our reach. Plus it will take months to build these once we arrive at Luna.”
    “We’ll need to move this through production much faster than that,” said Lem. “We may not have months.”
    Lem’s wrist pad vibrated, signaling a message from the helm. He tapped it. “Go ahead.”
    Chubs’s voice said, “Long-range sensors have detected an emergency beacon.”
    “From where?”
    “We can’t determine its point of origin. Considering its trajectory however, it appears to have come from the Battle of the Belt.”
    Lem glanced at Benyawe and saw that her interest was piqued as well. The Battle of the Belt was the name the crew had given to the massive line of wreckage the sensors had found since flying closer to the Formics’ trajectory. The Massacre of the Belt would have been a more fitting name in Lem’s opinion, considering how one-sided the outcome had been. It was impossible to say what had happened exactly, but the amount of wreckage suggested that anywhere between fifty to one hundred mining ships had attacked the Formics in a coordinated assault. Sensors couldn’t identify the ships at this distance, but they were likely free miners and corporates alike, allied for once against a common enemy.
    A beacon sent from one of the ships in the battle might hold critical, useful intel. Maybe they had discovered a weakness in the Formics’ defenses. Or perhaps they had more information about the Formics’ weapons capabilities. Any nugget of information could be helpful.
    “Is the beacon broadcasting a message?” asked Lem.
    “Affirmative,” said Chubs. “But sensors are only getting a billionth of it through the interference. We can’t make it out. The light sequence suggests it’s a STASA beacon, though.”
    Every satellite used blinking lights to identify itself from a distance in case radio had failed. No sequence was more familiar to anyone than that of the Space Trade and Security Authority.
    “I’m on my way,” said Lem. He clicked off and launched toward the push tube. Benyawe, as he expected, followed close behind. When they reached the helm, a rendering of the beacon spun in the system chart in front of them, its lights dancing across its surface.
    “Can you determine when it was sent?” asked Lem. “Was it before or after the battle?”
    “Impossible to say,” said Chubs. “It may have nothing to do with the battle. We don’t know.”
    “Where is it now? Could we intercept it?”
    “It’s not along our current trajectory. If we alter our course, we could snag it in about eighteen hours.”
    “Would that delay our arrival to Luna?” asked Benyawe.
    “By twelve days at