eaceful relationship between our two species. If the intel in this beacon reaches Earth before we do, we implore you to notify STASA of our escort and to make preparations to greet the alien ship with the proper delegates and peace offering. God protect us. End of transmission."
The man's head winked out.
"Are they insane?" Lem said. "A peace offering? He watched the Formics wipe out sixty-two ships, and he wants to shower them with gifts? Unbelievable."
"He saw the Formics' firepower," said Benyawe. "He's trying to prevent another massacre and maintain calm. Firing on the Formics is only going to lead to more deaths. You can't argue with that. He's doing what he thinks is best for Earth."
"He's wrong," said Lem. "We saw their firepower too. We saw what they did to El Cavador. That doesn't mean we're suddenly going to crawl into bed with them."
"I'm not saying I agree with him," said Benyawe. "I'm saying he's asking for diplomacy over rash action. I see his point of view."
"His point of view is boneheaded arrogance. You didn't see these creatures up close, Benyawe. I did. And believe me, a nice present in a pretty pink bow isn't going to make them our best friends."
"What do we do now?" said Chubs.
"We get to Luna as fast as we can and pray the political idiots don't roll out the red carpet."
"Faster than our previous speed?" asked Chubs.
"We can bump it up a notch," said Lem. "We're trying to avoid collision threats, I know, but our previous speed was still a little cautious. Let's push the safety parameters."
Chubs nodded. "I'll give the order immediately." He hurried back to the helm.
Lem returned his attention to the holofield where the captain's head had been. "How could someone be so asinine? An escort? The man watched all those people die and he has the audacity to give the Formics an escort?"
Benyawe shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sixty-two ships."
"We thought it might be more than that," said Lem.
"So many people."
Lem wiped his hand through the holofield, searching through the files for the vid of the battle. He found it and played it.
A massive cluster of ships appeared in the holofield. In the center was the Formic ship, huge and imposing, like a giant red moon hurtling through space. Dozens of mining ships were matching its speed, buzzing around it like bees at a hive, firing at the Formics with everything they had, which despite their numbers, seemed woefully inadequate.
Even at a distance Lem recognized several ships from his father's fleet, all of them armored with additional plates crudely welded to their hulls. They had apparently hastily readied themselves for war, but the added armor did nothing for them. One by one, the Formic guns picked off the ships, slinging hundreds of globules of laserized gamma plasma with perfect accuracy, vaporizing whole clusters of ships in flashes that sent debris hurtling in every direction.
Those ships are nothing to them, Lem realized. We're gnats. Mild annoyances. Easily pushed away, barely worth the effort.
As Lem and Benyawe watched, ship after ship broke apart into nothing, spilling their innards and crew into space. Most of the debris vanished as it moved out in every direction, but some of it continued forward in the direction the ship had been moving, carried by inertia as if it refused to accept it was dead and leave the fight.
Other pieces of debris were caught in an invisible field behind the Formic ship and pulled along, as if a giant magnet at the rear of the Formic ship caused the debris to change course and follow the ship.
The surviving ships pressed on, undeterred, firing relentlessly, pounding away at the Formics with everything in their arsenal. The outcome was always the same. Death, death, death. In moments, the hive of bees was diminishing, thinning out, leaving only a few persistent ships. Don't you see it's useless? Lem wanted to scream at them. Don't you see you're going to die? You're not even damaging them. Pull away. Dying accomplishes nothing.
But the ships in the holofield ignored him, firing and hammering away. It was pathetic now. A mere handful of ships remained. And then in a flurry of Formic fire, they were gone, leaving nothing but the Formic ship itself, unscathed and unflinching, silent once again as it bored through space like a bullet toward Earth, dragging a line of wreckage behind it.
The vid stopped.
Benyawe wiped at her eyes.
And to Lem's surprise, he realized that his own eyes were wet as well. He wiped at them quickly, furious with himself.
Fools, he thought. They had all been fools. Why had they persisted? Why had they wasted it all? Didn't they see they weren't making a dent? Didn't they know their loved ones on Earth would be devastated?
Of course they knew, he realized. It was their loved ones on Earth that had driven them. That's what had kept them in the fight, a desperation to save those back home.
I could have done the same, he thought. I could've stayed in the fight as well when we confronted them. But I didn't. I ran. I scurried away like a frightened mouse. Does that make me the wise man or the greater fool?