Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

of the line, all of them lashing out, fighting, kicking, and spinning.
    The winch continued to reel in the cable, moving faster now. One of the Formics scrambled past the twisting mass of bodies and was now climbing up the cable directly toward Lem.
    Lem fired the gun, but he must have missed as the Formic kept coming, unharmed and unhindered.
    “I’m cutting the cable,” said Chubs.
    “No,” Lem shouted. “We have men on that line.”
    The Formic was moving faster now, scurrying up the cable, eyes locked with Lem’s. Forty meters away. Then thirty.
    “It’ll get on the ship,” Chubs said.
    “Pull in the line,” Lem said. “That is an order.”
    Lem could see the Formic’s mouth now, clenched tight to keep it alive in the vacuum as long as possible. Fall off, Lem thought. Come on. Open your mouth and die.
    He fired another dart, and this time the creature was close enough that Lem saw the dart miss. The men on the line were still fighting off the other two Formics, screaming and begging for Lem to pull the line in faster.
    The climbing Formic had almost reached Lem. Ten meters. Five.
    The cable snapped free from the winch, severed by Chubs, and the cargo bay door swished closed. Lem watched through the glass in the bay door as the Formic’s momentum carried him to the ship. The creature bounced against the closed door and ricocheted away, its hands scratching at the ship for a moment, struggling to find purchase. The men on the cable cried out, begging not to be left behind. Chubs hit the command on his wrist pad to sever the men from the radio frequency.
    Lem grabbed him by the front of the suit and slammed him back against the wall. “I gave you an order!”
    “And your father gave me another order. Protect you at all costs. His word trumps yours.”
    Chubs opened a frequency to the helm. “Get us as far away from the Formic ship as possible. Now!”
    “We can’t leave El Cavador,” said Lem.
    “If the Formics are willing to send out men without air, they’ll be willing to roast them with lasers if it means taking us down.”
    Lem’s expression was hard. “You killed our own men.”
    “I saved your life, Lem. That’s two you owe me.”
    *   *   *
    Mono floated at the crow’s nest window, his face pressed against the glass, his lip trembling. From here he could see everything: men peeling away from the Formic ship; Formics pulling off the explosives; a swarm of Formics coming out of the holes to fight, kick, bite, and attack. They were worse than any monster Mono had imagined, made all the more horrible by the sounds coming from the radio frequency, which Mono had opened on Edimar’s terminal. Frantic shouts. Men screaming. The sounds of a struggle. Concepción telling everyone to hurry back to the cable. Mono wanted to go to the radio and turn it off, but he was too afraid to move.
    He shouldn’t have left Mother. That had been a stupid mistake. This was grown-up business. He shouldn’t be here. He had helped, yes, and played an important part, but right now he didn’t care. He would go back and not play an important part if it meant he could be on the WU-HU ship with Mother.
    Why had he lied to her? He loved Mother, and now his last act to her would be a lie. And yes, it would be his last act. He was going to die. He knew that. He had heard everything the men had said over the past few days, even when they thought they were talking quietly enough for him not to hear. If the Formics discovered them, they had no chance.
    I’m sorry, Mother.
    He felt doubly ashamed because he knew Vico wouldn’t be afraid. Vico wouldn’t flinch at this. He would be down there with the others, fighting. And yet, even the mere thought of Vico gave Mono a touch of courage. He launched across the room to the radio and clicked it off. The room went silent. Mono took a deep breath. He could feel it calm him, so he took another one, a deep calming breath like Mother had taught him to take whenever he had cried so much that his breathing became rapid. “Easy now,” Mother would say, gently taking him into her arms. “You’re going to make yourself sick, Monito. Deep breaths.” And then she would brush her fingers through his hair and hum into his ear until he got himself under control again.
    It worked now, here in the crow’s nest. Mono’s lips stopped trembling, and his muscles relaxed. Outside the struggle continued, but inside, here in the crow’s nest, Mono felt almost at ease.
    A door