Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

inside.”
    “Laser cutting around these people?” said Concepción. “That’s extremely dangerous.”
    “Bulo’s a good cutter,” said Victor. “He could sign his name on a pebble if he wanted to.”
    “I could do it,” said Bulo, who was listening on the line. “If the ship is holding steady, if we anchor the wreckage so it doesn’t move. I can slice off the deadweight easy.”
    Concepción asked, “Segundo, what do you think?”
    “I don’t know of a better option,” said Father. “The downside is time. Anchoring and cutting and moving them inside. That all will take a lot of time. I’m guessing five or six hours at the least. And there might be more survivors out there who need immediate help. We’d be essentially ending the search.”
    Victor was watching Toron, who was at the hatch window with a light board. He wrote something that Victor couldn’t see and showed it to the man on the other side of the glass. The man read the board then shook his head. Toron released the board and turned away from the hatch. The board drifted away and Victor saw the single-word question written there: “Alejandra?”

 
    CHAPTER 11
    Quickship
    Victor plugged the lifeline back into Toron before the two of them left the wreckage. Toron didn’t object or play hero. He understood that if they were both going to arrive safely back at the airlock, they needed to share the line. Toron nodded his thanks to Victor, but Victor could tell Toron’s mind was elsewhere. All hope of finding Janda alive here had shattered, and Toron’s face showed only despair.
    It almost relieved Victor that he and Toron couldn’t communicate since they were sharing a line. What would Victor say? It’s my fault that Janda’s here? It’s my fault she may be dead? It wouldn’t be untrue. If not for Victor, the Council would never have sent Janda away. She’d be on El Cavador. Safe and alive.
    He flew up out of the corridor of the wreckage, leading the way, with Toron behind him. Since Victor couldn’t call for help if he needed it, it made sense for him to be up front where Toron could see him. Most of the jagged protrusions around the entrance to the corridor had been cut away, but it surprised Victor to see that many still remained. It had been dangerous and reckless of him to fly down here as quickly as he had. But he had been thinking of Janda then. He had been clinging to the hope that she was here, inside, alive, ready for rescue. Now he knew she wasn’t.
    A hand grabbed Victor’s shoulder. It was Toron, already plugging the lifeline into Victor’s back. Toron seemed agitated. He flew forward in a rush toward the ship, and Victor followed. The chatter in Victor’s helmet continued.
    “We don’t have a choice, Toron,” said Bahzím.
    “It’s not Toron anymore,” said Victor. “It’s Victor. He just gave me the line. What’s going on?”
    “He objects to suspending the search for more survivors to rescue the people trapped inside,” said Father. “He says there might be a hundred people out there who need rescuing.”
    “He’s right,” said Victor. “There might be.”
    “Unlikely,” said Bahzím.
    “But possible,” said Father.
    Toron landed back in the airlock. Victor was right behind him. Father and Nando were coming in as well, the two of them sharing a lifeline also. The airlock was busy with activity. A team of miners was working the big winches, pulling in the mooring cables they had already anchored to the wreckage. The intent was to bring the wreck close to a PK to be extremely precise with the cuts.
    There was a limited supply of the longer lifelines, but there were several short lines for working here in the airlock. Toron grabbed one from the wall, plugged it into his back, and approached Bahzím.
    “I want to go back out there,” he said. “I’m not staying here while we cut these people free. I want to keep looking. Even if I go alone.”
    “You can’t, Toron,” said Bahzím. “You can’t leave the ship without a lifeline.”
    “I can plug the emergency regulator into my lifeline jack and connect air canisters. It’s been done before. That will give me all the air I need.”
    “And what about heat? You’ll freeze to death.”
    “I’ll carry one of the battery packs. That’ll give me enough heat and power for a few hours, at least.”
    Bahzím shook his head. “I can’t let you do that, Toron.”
    “My daughter is out there, Bahzím. Dead probably, but maybe alive. And as