Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

asked Concepción.
    “Seems odd that we wouldn’t hear something,” said Victor. “They have four transmitters. They should be talking to each other. We’re still a distance away, but not too far that we shouldn’t pick up something.” He turned to Concepción. “How long ago did the scout ship arrive at their position?”
    “Eighteen hours ago,” she said.
    “And no one has left their position since?” asked Father.
    “Not according to the Eye,” said Concepción.
    “Maybe this scout ship is causing interference,” said Victor.
    “Maybe,” said Concepción.
    “Or maybe they’re not transmitting because they can’t transmit,” said Selmo.
    They were all silent a moment. Victor had been thinking the same thing. They all had. Either something had happened to all four of the Italians’ transmitters or something had happened to the Italians.
    “How long until we reach their position?” Concepción asked.
    “Twelve hours,” said Selmo.
    Concepción considered this.
    “There’s still time to turn and run,” said Father. “I’m not advocating it. I’m just saying that if we start decelerating now, we could stop and change course if you wanted to.”
    “We’re not stopping,” said Concepción. “We’re all going to bed and getting some sleep. Especially you and Victor. You haven’t slept in two days. Selmo, get whoever is working the helm tonight on this radio, checking frequencies. They are not to transmit, only listen. Wake me if anything changes.”
    *   *   *
    Alejandra was floating in the corridor in a white gown. The material was thin but not so thin that Victor could see through it. Her hair was down, floating out beside her in zero gravity. He thought it odd to see her dressed this way. Janda didn’t own any gowns—certainly not ones so white and pristine and that fit her so well, as if made only for her. The Janda he knew wore jumpsuits and sweaters, all frayed and worn, having been handed down by other girls before her. Never something so new or unblemished or womanly.
    Nor did she ever have her hair down, not out in the corridor at least, not where everyone could see it. Once, Victor had seen it down when he had gone to her family’s quarters and found the door ajar. Janda’s mother was inside the room braiding Janda’s hair. It had surprised Victor to see how long and full it was. He had left immediately before anyone had noticed him, feeling awkward, as if he had witnessed something no boy should ever see.
    Yet now, seeing her here, he had no such feelings. This was how her hair and dress should be, how he was meant to see her.
    Janda smiled to him, and Victor felt such instant relief. He had worried that the scout ship had done something to her, harmed her somehow, yet here she was. He had so many questions. What was the scout ship? Had she made any friends among the Italians? Had she spotted any potential suitors whom she might one day consider taking as a husband? It lifted his heart to consider that last question without feeling a pang of guilt or loss. It meant he was moving on, that Janda was still the friend he had always taken her to be and not someone he had fallen in love with. It meant they could see one another and not be clouded with awkwardness and shame.
    She beckoned him to follow her, then turned her body and pushed off with her bare feet. They moved through the ship. The halls were empty. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. Not yet. They were with each other, and for now that was enough. She looked back and smiled often, seeing him there behind her, still following her.
    The airlock was open. The bay doors were open. They went through both of them. There were stars everywhere, silent and small. They faced one another. A star behind Janda moved, sliding across the sky to her, as if attracted to her, as if it were hers and she were calling it home. It reached her and disappeared, winking out. Then other stars came, slowly at first and then all at once, sweeping to her. Janda seemed not to notice. Her eyes were on Victor, her smile still strong.
    His hands were in her hair. Her hand was around his waist, drawing him. Her lips were warm.
    A hand shook Victor awake. He was in his hammock. Father looked down at him. “The scout ship has gone.”
    Victor was out of his hammock instantly. He and Father went directly to the helm. Toron was moving his stylus through the holospace above the table, drawing a line across the system chart. “It