Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

afraid and out of breath. “He’s not responding to anything,” he said.
    Isabella slid her greaves up to her knees and knelt on the floor beside Marco, opening her bag and moving quickly. “Help me get his suit off so I can get to his chest.” She had scissors in her hand and began cutting away his suit. Victor and Father tore the fabric away as Isabella cut through Marco’s undershirt. Victor watched the chest, willing it to rise on its own, to move, to show a little life. It didn’t.
    Isabella slapped sensors onto his chest and slid a tube over Marco’s mouth. The machine started giving him breaths, and Marco’s chest began to rise and fall. It didn’t give Victor any comfort. The machine was doing all the work. Isabella pulled a syringe from her bag, bit off the needle cap, spat it away, and stuck the needle into Marco’s arm. She flipped on a second machine, and Victor heard the sustained beep of a flatline. His heart wasn’t beating. Isabella pressed a disc to Marco’s chest. She squeezed the handle, and Marco’s body twitched. Victor thought for half a second that whatever Isabella had done had revived him; that Marco was coming around and jerking awake. But he wasn’t. His body became still again. Isabella jolted him three more times. Four. Still the flatline persisted.
    Isabella looked lost. She removed the disc from Marco’s chest and pushed it away. Her hands went back in her bag. They came out with the bone pad. She placed it on Marco’s chest, and the skeletal structure appeared on the screen. Isabella slowly moved the pad up to Marco’s neck and held it there for a long time, her face just inches from the pad. Finally, she switched off the pad and looked up, defeated.
    “His neck is broken. It severed his spinal column. I’m sorry.”
    The words felt hollow to Victor, like words from a dream. She was telling them that Marco was dead, that there was nothing more she could do. She was giving up.
    No, Marco couldn’t be dead. Victor had been with Marco just moments ago. They had been working together, laughing.
    Father was speaking quietly into his handheld, calling someone down to the airlock.
    “There has to be something we can do,” said Victor.
    “There isn’t, Vico,” said Isabella, removing the tube from Marco’s mouth.
    “So we’re just giving up?”
    “I can’t fix what’s broken here. He was dead before you brought him in. I’m sorry.”
    Victor felt numb. His fingers were tingling. Marco was dead. The word hit him like the Juke ship had. Dead. Why had the corporates attacked them? This wasn’t the Asteroid Belt. This was the Kuiper Belt. The family had left the A Belt for this very reason: to get away from the corporates.
    How had they gotten so close without us detecting them?
    Victor looked down at Marco. He has a family, Victor told himself. A wife, Gabi, and three girls—one of whom, Chencha, was just a year younger than Victor.
    Father disconnected the lifeline from the back of his own suit and moved for the door into the cargo bay. “Let’s go, Vico.”
    “We’re leaving?”
    “You and I have work to do.”
    He meant the ship. Victor had seen some of the damage. The power generator was fried. Sensors were gone. PKs were gone. And the auxiliary generators wouldn’t last forever. If the family was going to survive, Victor and Father needed to make big repairs fast.
    Victor nodded to Father and moved toward the hatch.
    “Gabi and Lizbét are on their way down now,” Father said to Isabella. “I’d stay, but Concepción wants us on the helm immediately.”
    Lizbét was Marco’s mother. She still doted on her son.
    “Go,” said Isabella. “I’ll wait for them here.”
    Father was up and flying. Victor launched after him. A moment later they were in the hall, which was empty now. Father turned toward the helm, taking a side passageway. Before following, Victor looked down the hall in the opposite direction, back toward the fuge, and saw two women coming, still a distance away, heading for the cargo bay. Gabi and Lizbét. Wife and mother. Even at a distance, he could see the terror and panic on their faces.
    “Vico, let’s go,” said Father.
    Victor was moving again, following Father, weaving through the passageways of the ship. They arrived at the helm, and Victor was surprised to see the entire flight crew here, all busily working. Some were running cables and setting up lights. Others were at their workstations, speaking into their headsets