supervising the effort outside. When he answered, she told him the situation and asked if there was any way to speak with the survivors.
“The only way to communicate with them is by light board,” said Bahzim. “We write, and they give simple responses, nodding their head or writing words on the glass of the hatch one letter at a time.”
“We don’t have time for that,” said Dreo. “Look, these survivors are hindering our maneuverability. We won’t be able to move around the debris field quickly if we’re moored to a massive hunk of wreckage. They’re an albatross. I hate to be the one to say this, but we need to consider cutting them loose.”
“Absolutely not,” said Concepcion.
“We could come back and get them when it’s over,” said Dreo.
“They can’t survive without us,” said Selmo. “We’re supplying them with oxygen.”
“Think,” said Dreo. “These are nine total strangers. Are we willing to handicap ourselves and risk everything for people we don’t know?”
“They’re not strangers,” said Concepcion. “The moment we started helping them they became a part of this crew. End of discussion. Selmo, have the miners remove the pylons and pull the wreckage in close with the mooring cables. That will give us more mobility. Dreo, contact the quickship. Get Victor and Segundo and Toron back here immediately.”
Dreo hesitated, as if he would argue further, then went to his workstation.
Concepcion turned to Selmo. “We need a better defensive position. I want us behind a large chunk of debris if there is one. Then put our best men on our five pebble-killers.”
“That may not be enough,” said Selmo.
“It’s going to have to be,” said Concepcion.
Victor floated in the quickship, watching the large, twisted piece of wreckage beside him. An hour had passed since Father and Toron had gone inside through the hatch, and Victor was on the verge of flying to the wreck to investigate. Just as he began unspooling cable to produce a makeshift safety line, a voice crackled over the radio.
“Quickship, this is El Cavador. If you can hear us, respond. Repeat. Victor, Toron, Segundo, if you can hear us, respond.”
Victor dropped the cable. El Cavador was using radio, which meant one of two things. Either the ship had determined that radio wasn’t what had attracted the pod, or the pod was no longer a threat. A different voice sounded in Victor’s helmet. “El Cavador, this is Segundo, we copy. Over.”
Victor relaxed. It was Father. He didn’t sound injured.
“Toron here as well,” said Toron.
Victor swallowed, composing himself. “And Victor. I’m here, too. Over.”
“Get back to the ship immediately,” said Dreo. “The pod’s coming back.”
Victor’s relief at hearing Father’s voice was gone in an instant. They weren’t prepared for the pod; they had five pebble-killers. The Italians had been armed with as many as twenty-five, and the pod had wasted them. Father began asking questions, and Dreo shared what he knew.
“We can’t come back immediately,” said Father. “Toron and I are still inside one of the wrecks. We’re moving back to the quickship now, but it will be ten minutes before we reach it. We won’t get back to you in time. Don’t wait for us. If you need to run or move elsewhere, do it now. We’ll catch up to you later if we can.”
“Concepcion won’t like that,” said Dreo.
“She doesn’t have much choice,” said Father.
El Cavador clicked off. Victor hit his talkback: If the ship had abandoned radio silence, there was no need for him to adhere to it now. “Father, what happened?”
Father sounded solemn. “We found Faron shortly after we came inside. He was dead. There were a lot of people in this one, Vico. None of them made it. We had to cut through some heavy debris in one of the corridors to reach the rear of the wreck. We knew it would take a while, but we went for it anyway. It didn’t pay off.”
Victor said nothing. Faron. Dead. Here inside this wreck. That meant this was Vesuvio, Janda’s ship; it meant that if they were going to find Janda, it would likely be here. Faron would have stayed close to her; he would have protected her. Yet Father and Toron hadn’t found her; Father would have said so if they had.
They weren’t going to find her, Victor realized. Ever. It had been an unlikely possibility from the beginning, but Victor had still clung to hope. Now that lingering chance was gone. Alejandra was dead. Nine survivors was more of a miracle than they could have hoped for.
Father and Toron emerged from the hatch. They deflated the bubble and flew back up to the quickship. Toron looked vacant as he climbed back into the cockpit. Victor watched him, seeing that Toron had reached the same conclusion he had: Janda was gone.
Concepcion’s voice came over the radio. “We’ve moved to a more defensive position, but don’t come to us if you have enough air. The pod is nearly here, and you may be safer where you are. We’ve managed to get a communication line to the survivors, and we’ve learned more about what we’re up against. The survivors believe the pod is drawn to heat. It stopped at their position and sat there for hours doing nothing. The Italians tried communicating with it, but the pod was nonresponsive. Then, without provocation, it flew to the rear of one of their ships, clung to it with grappling arms, and began probing the ship’s engines with long, thin drills, like needles almost. The drills went in like a ‘knife through hot butter,’ they said, hardly any resistance at all. The pod was systematic about it, as if looking for something. The first ship blew up before anyone knew what was happening. At first the Italians thought the pod had planted an explosive, but it appears the probing of the engines is what caused the detonation. That’s why the debris looks ripped apart. It blew up from within. As for the pod, it sustained no visible damage. Not even the needle drills. The other ships fired their lasers, but the pod moved quickly to the engines of the second ship and repeated the process. The pod took several direct hits, but again, no damage. Either it’s shielded or its hull is impermeable to lasers. It might not attack us, but if it does, we’ll destroy it. Bahzim has a team of miners already outside with penetrating tools. If it lands on our engines, we’ll rip it to shreds.”
“Did it have any other weapons?” asked Father.
“None that the Italians could detect. Just the probing needle drills. It’s also much smaller than we thought. Maybe a quarter the size of El Cavador. The Italians believe it’s designed for atmospheric entry and exit, though probably not in really strong gravity, by the looks of its engines and design. It could land on and leave from, say, Earth, but it might have trouble with Jupiter. That’s conjecture, though, and not necessarily helpful.”
“Anything is helpful,” said Father. He quickly gave her his own report and informed her that they had found Faron’s body but no survivors.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Concepcion. “Once we destroy the pod and make needed repairs, if any, we’ll resume the search. In the meantime, hold your position. If you don’t hear from us afterward, come to us. We may not be able to contact you, and we’ll likely need you for repairs.” She paused a moment, then added, “Que Dios les proteja.” May God protect you.
“Y ustedes tambien,” said Father. And you as well.
The radio went silent, and no one spoke for a moment.
“She doesn’t think they’ll survive an attack, does she?” Victor asked.
“I don’t think so, no,” said Father. “And she has every reason to believe so. The Italians tried to stop it and couldn’t. It got all four of their ships, and they all were desperately fighting to the end.”
“El Cavador doesn’t have a chance,” said Toron. “This thing took laser fire. Direct hits. We can’t let it reach the ship.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Father.
“Bahzim has a team outside with penetrating tools. We have the same tools here. Spreaders, shears, cold sprayers. We’re closer to the pod than they are. It will be coming from this direction. When it passes, we get behind it and attack it from the rear. We’ll have to come in slightly from the side to avoid its thrusters, but we hit its hull, climb out, anchor ourselves to whatever we can, and destroy anything that moves with the tools. Maybe we can disable these grappling arms or needle drills. If we cripple it enough, it can’t inflict any damage.”
“It’s going to be moving,” said Father. “If we’re off on our approach, even slightly, we’ll miss it.” He turned to Victor. “You only just learned to fly this thing, Vico. Can you do this? Can we hit it?”
Victor blinked. They were going to attack the pod. Alone. With rescue gear. “I’d need to make some adjustments to the program to give us more propulsion; we can’t match it with our current speed. We’ll need to be
