Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

kind. Just images. Are you recording all this?”
    Father scanned the room. “Trying to.”
    Victor focused his attention back on the console, searching for any symbols or markings that might suggest the purpose of any of the levers. It was useless, he realized. There was nothing to guide him.
    “Trouble,” said Father, pointing.
    Victor followed Father’s finger and looked out the window. The pod was heading toward a large piece of wreckage a kilometer or two ahead.
    “We don’t know how to stop it,” said Father. “We need to bail.”
    “Give me a second,” said Victor, reaching for one of the levers. He pulled back, and one of the grappling arms extended out in front of them.
    “We don’t have time, Vico.”
    “We need to save this ship, Father. There might be information here.”
    The debris was approaching. The ship would collide in moments. Victor studied the levers. There were three other levers like the one he had tried. Those would all be grappling arms; not what he wanted.
    “We need to go now,” said Father.
    Victor tried another lever, and the ship accelerated slightly.
    “Whoa,” said Father.
    Victor pulled back in the other direction, and the ship slowed. But not enough.
    “Pull it back more,” said Father.
    “That’s as far as it goes.”
    They were nearly on top of the debris. It was at least four times the size of the pod, with twisted beams and mangled steel protruding from every direction, all coming clearly into view fast. Father grabbed Victor’s hand. “Move. Now!”
    Victor launched up through the hole and crawled out onto the hull. Father came up behind him. The shadow of the debris covered the pod. They were seconds from impact.
    “We need to jump,” Father said. “Take off your line.”
    Victor fumbled with the D-ring on his safety harness. His fingers slipped. He couldn’t get it lose.
    Snip. The shears in Father’s hands cut the line. “Go!”
    They launched upward. Victor looked back. The pod crashed into the debris below them. Beams from the debris pierced the cockpit window. Glass shattered and twinkled away into space. The quickship flew forward, spinning awkwardly, still tethered to the pod, and careened into the debris, bending, bouncing off, wrecked. Dust and tiny debris scattered in every direction, clouding the collision.
    “El Cavador. El Cavador,” Father was saying. “Do you read? Over.”
    The wreckage was getting smaller below them. They were still flying upward with the force and speed of their launch. They weren’t tethered to anything. They had nothing in hand to stop themselves. Father was off to Victor’s right, with the distance growing between them by the second. They had launched at slightly different angles, and now they were drifting farther apart. Unless El Cavador retrieved them immediately, they would fly in these directions at these speeds forever.
    “El Cavador,” Father said again. “Can you read?”
    There was a crackle over the line, then Concepción’s voice said, “Segundo. We see you. We’re coming for you now.”
    Victor looked back and saw El Cavador emerge from behind a section of debris.
    “Get Vico first,” said Father.
    “We’re getting you both,” said Concepción.
    Victor turned his head back to Father, who was a great distance away now, getting smaller by the moment.
    “Toron didn’t make it,” said Father.
    “We know,” said Concepción.
    The ship moved closer, pulling up beside him. A miner with a lifeline leaped out from the ship and wrapped his arms around Victor’s chest, stopping Victor’s flight. It was Bahzím.
    “Got you, Vico.”
    Victor clung to him as Bahzím thumbed his propulsion pack and turned them both back toward El Cavador. Down the side of the ship, a distance away, another of the miners was grabbing Father as well. Victor watched until he was certain Father was secured, then he turned his head and looked back at the wreckage now far below, where Toron was lost among the dust and debris.

 
    CHAPTER 15
    Warnings
    Victor gathered with the Council in the fuge two days later after a search for more survivors proved unsuccessful. He had hoped to accompany the search party to look for Janda, but Concepción had asked him and Father to comb through the wreckage for salvageable parts instead. It was a long shot, but if Victor and Father could find enough parts to build a laserline transmitter, they could restore the ship’s long-range communication. Father had said that finding