Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

don’t we upload some malware or venomware and damage their systems while we’re in there?” said Victor.
    “Because we are not going to attack them at all,” said Concepción. “I want information, not revenge.”
    Victor looked at the faces around the table, and saw that not everyone shared in that opinion.
    “Please proceed, Dreo,” said Concepción. “And bring up their network on the holotable, if you wouldn’t mind.”
    Dreo returned to his workstation, and the schematic of the ship in the holospace disappeared, replaced with a series of three-dimensional icons spinning in space: flight log, engineering, laserlines, field trials, Lem, Dr. Benyawe, and others.
    “Give me the manifest,” said Concepción. “Tell me who the captain is.”
    Photos and a holovideo of a handsome man in his early thirties appeared. Concepción selected the window of data beside one of the photos and expanded it.
    “Lem Jukes,” she said, reading the name.
    “As in the Jukes?” said Father. “Is he related?”
    “Ukko’s son,” said Concepción.
    “I’ll be damned,” said Selmo. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
    “Copy as much of this data as we can,” said Concepción. “I want to know what their intentions are. Then let’s get the severed sensors back in the ship and get out of here before Mr. Lem Jukes decides to take more potshots. I’m going to be with Gabi and Lizbét, and then I’ll head to the fuge to address the family.” She turned to Father. “Don’t waste time and energy working on what we can’t fix. Work with Selmo to identify those things we can repair. Power first, communication second.”
    “What about the starship?” asked Victor.
    “What about it?” said Concepción. “Selmo’s right. We’re not in any position to address that right now. Nor can we relay what we’ve found. We’re silent until we get communication back online.”
    “We’re not going to be able to recover everything,” said Father. “We’re going to need parts and supplies.”
    “The nearest weigh station is four months away,” said Concepción. “The closest help we have are the Italians. They received our message and are watching the sky. If we hurry, maybe we can reach them before they move on. They’ll have plenty of supplies we could use.”
    Victor looked at Father and could tell that he was thinking the same thing Victor was. Going for the Italians was a risk. There was no way to send the Italians a transmission to tell them to stay put and wait. If El Cavador arrived and the Italians had moved on, the ship would be in serious trouble.
    Concepción left the bridge.
    Victor turned back to the holospace and looked at Lem Jukes. Some of the photos were ID shots: a straight headshot, a profile shot. But others were more casual photos taken from the ship’s archives: Lem standing with his father, Ukko Jukes, in a ceremonial photo at what must have been the ship’s departure; a more editorial shot of Lem in action at the helm, leaning forward over some holodisplay, pointing at nothing in particular, clearly a staged shot for the press. And then there was the brief holovideo. It was twelve seconds long at the most, running on a loop, playing over and over again. Lem was at a dinner party, sitting at a table after a meal. Empty wineglasses, fancy cutlery, a slice of half-eaten cake on a plate. There was no audio, but Lem was clearly telling a story, using his hands and his charming smile to emphasize his tale. Two beautiful women sat on either side of him, hanging on his every word. The story reached its end, and everyone burst out laughing, including Lem. Then the video began again.
    Victor watched it a second time, and this time Victor imagined the words coming out of Lem’s mouth. “So we blow up their mooring cables,” Lem was saying. “And there were these three men out on the hull of their ship. The devil only knows what they were doing out there. So I told my pilot to rush them, to hit them hard and knock that PK right where they were standing. And lo and behold, that thing smacked one of those gravel suckers right between the eyes.”
    Laughter from everyone at the table.
    Father was talking with Selmo. Victor stared at the laughter in the video.
    That man killed Marco, Victor thought. Lem Jukes, son of Ukko Jukes, heir to the fortune of thieves and murderers, killed Marco.
    Concepción wanted them to focus on power and communication. Fine. Victor would do that. But he