"And let me give you some unsolicited advice, Lem. Don't send a message to Victor and Imala. Don't warn them. That would be cruel. You'd essentially be telling them they have a few hours to live."
"Not telling them is cruel as well."
"Dying is what's cruel, son. Protecting someone from the knowledge of their own death is a mercy. Stay silent. For their sake. You may think that monstrous, but it's a kindness."
Ukko turned and walked out.
Lem stood there, considering, alone. He pulled his holopad from his pocket and prepared to call Benyawe, imagining how the conversation would go. Then he pocketed the pad and looked for another exit. Father was right. He couldn't save Victor and Imala. Silence was the only kindness he had left to give.
CHAPTER 4
Gravity
The Formic was down on its arms and legs inside the shaft, pulling a metal cart behind it. Victor caught himself on the walls before colliding with it, his helmet less than a meter from the creature's face. Victor rolled to the side to avoid it, fumbling for his weapon. The gun was up and in his hand an instant later, but his finger paused on the trigger. The Formic wasn't paying him any attention, Victor realized. It hadn't so much as flinched or turned in his direction. Instead, it continued down the shaft, moving past him with slow methodical steps, showing no signs of alarm.
It was then that Victor noticed the metal plate over the Formic's eyes, a sort of half helmet that obstructed its vision like blinders.
It didn't see me, Victor realized. I was simply in its path over the track.
The cart was an odd thing: boxy, metallic, and covered with rust, without any lights or visible tech along its surface. Its four sets of ancient, corroded wheels fit snugly into the recessed grooves of the floor and ceiling, keeping the cart securely locked on the track. The wheels squeaked and jostled as they rolled over minor bumps and imperfections on the surface.
A harness around the Formic's midsection locked into the track beneath it and prevented the creature from going anywhere but forward. Two poles extended back from the sides of the harness and fastened to the cart like traces. One of the Formic's hind legs was injured, Victor noticed. It bent outward instead of inward, forcing the Formic to walk with an awkward limping gait that made Victor almost pity the thing.
When it had moved on and Victor had lowered the gun, Imala whispered, "Are you hurt?"
Victor holstered the weapon. "Scared witless m
aybe. But unhurt."
"What was it pulling? Could you see in the cart?"
"No. All the sides were sealed. At least we know now what the tracks are for and what was making the squeaking noise."
"I don't get it, Vico. Where's the tech? These are supposed to be an advanced species, and yet so far all we've seen is floating excrement and carts that would predate our Industrial Revolution."
"It didn't see us, Imala. That's all I care about."
"The blinders over its eyes, though. That doesn't make sense. It's as if it were a beast of burden."
"Maybe it is," said Victor. "Did you notice it limping? Maybe maimed Formics are relegated to manual-labor jobs. Maybe everyone has a duty, and if you're injured and can no longer perform your duty, they turn you into a mule."
"That hardly sounds like a civilized society."
"Who said they were civilized? They're murdering planet thieves, Imala. You've seen the vids. They don't care about their own well-being. They only act in the interest of the group, the many. If he's told to be a mule, he'll be a mule."
"How do you know it was a he? Maybe that was a she."
Victor smiled. "I'm perfectly aware that women can do manual labor, Imala. I'm not sexist." He pushed off again, continuing up the shaft, putting the Formic behind him.
"I'm not suggesting that you are, Vico. I'm making a point about the Formics. They all look the same to me. Male, female. I can't tell the difference."
"Maybe we haven't seen any females yet. Maybe all of the soldier Formics sent to Earth were males."
"Why males?" said Imala. "Females can be warriors, too. In fact, from a biological perspective, the female is more often the protector of the young. The male usually does his business in the mating process and leaves."
"Well, you know men, Imala. Only good for one thing."
"I'm serious, Vico. Your family called the Formics hormigas. Ants. And who leads an ant colony? A queen. The males are merely her workers. Same with bees and wasps."