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The giant flower began to fold in on itself, retracting, preparing to disappear back into its hiding place. Victor thought quickly, reaching out and shoving the bar between two braces that had begun to fold inward. The bar stuck, wedged tight, and the flower's collapsing motion stopped. Victor waited. If the bar snapped free after he climbed into the hole, the flower might collapse inward and crush him.

The flower didn't move. The bar held firm. Victor closed the bag, threw it over his shoulder, and grabbed the lip of hole, ready to launch himself inside. He wished Father were with him all of a sudden. Father could lead out and Victor could follow, just as they had done for years on board El Cavador, moving about the ship and making repairs. Father always knew what needed to be done. Doubt was not in his DNA. His solutions weren't always the most efficient, but they always worked, they always got the job done. Yes, Victor was the better mechanic, but Father worked better under pressure. Father never flinched. Father's hands were always steady.

Victor lifted his right hand and saw that it was trembling.

Be with me, Father. Stay with me, fly with me. Somos familia. Somos uno.

Then he lowered his hand back to the lip of the hole and pulled himself forward, shooting down deep, disappearing in the darkness.


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Tags: Orson Scott Card The First Formic War Science Fiction