"Vico, wait!"
But he was already moving, shooting forward, trying to take advantage of the opening. He twisted his body as he flew, hoping to squeeze through the space without disturbing the nests.
But he got it wrong. The suit was bulkier and bigger than what he was used to, and some of the nests extended farther out into the middle of the shaft than he had expected. His left shoulder struck a nest, breaking off a chunk and sending a handful of glow bugs scattering and buzzing with agitation. Victor spun away, trying to avoid the bugs, and hit another nest in the process; then a third and a fourth. He couldn't avoid them. They were all packed too tightly together.
He tried spinning to his left to reorient himself, but his forward motion was already carrying him upward, and his twisting only set him farther off course. He reached out with his feet to catch himself and felt the squish of wings and bodies as his boots took out a whole swath of nests below him.
The other bugs leaped from their nests, rushing to him, fluttering all around him, landing on his arms and legs, buzzing in front of his helmet, blocking his view, filling his ears with the collective roar of their wings. He had been wrong: there were not hundreds, there were thousands.
Imala was shouting over the radio. "Get out of there!"
He twisted again, getting his bearings, finding the wall with his feet, and pushed off, shooting away. He couldn't see. His visor was a wall of wings and bioluminescence and tiny, wiggling, frantic legs. The light in his eyes was blinding, like a h
undred lit bulbs thrown in his face.
His body slowed. He pushed off again, crushing more nests. He flew ten more meters. Then twenty. He could feel the pinching and marching of feet all over him, even through the thick layers of his suit. Were they eating their way inside? Were they burning their way through? Would his suit self-seal if they tore a hole? Panic seized him. He shook himself, throwing off his forward momentum. He careened into the wall to his right, crushing glow bugs and nests in the impact. He got his footing, pushed off again, flailing his arms as if they were on fire, knocking glow bugs free and leaving a wake of broken wings and smeared bioluminescence behind him.
Then his arm brushed a wall and he felt solid metal.
No nests. He was clear.
He reached out again and yes, the walls were clean. The nests were behind him. He pushed off again, launching hard. One by one the remaining bugs peeled away, falling from his suit, disappearing from view. He didn't stop, but pushed off again, inspecting himself as he flew, shaking his legs and arms and brushing the remaining glow bugs away.
His attention was so focused on clearing his suit that he didn't see the Formic until it was right in front of him.
CHAPTER 3
Drones
Lem Jukes sat in the living room of his penthouse apartment on Luna, smiling his way through another interview and pretending not to notice the cameras. The reporter sitting opposite was a young Danish woman named Unna, with short pink hair, big silver loop earrings, and a tight-fitting, low-cut white jumpsuit that exposed as much skin as the networks would allow. The producers had sat her only inches away on the loveseat, her knees nearly touching Lem's.
Unna pursed her lips, furrowed her brow, and placed a hand gently atop Lem's own. "You must have been terribly afraid, Lem. What was going through your mind when the Formics poured out of their ship?"
The battle in the Kuiper Belt. It was all the media wanted to talk about: how Lem and the crew of his asteroid-mining ship had gallantly attacked the Formics out beyond Neptune in an attempt to stop them from reaching Earth. Lem, you must have been so afraid. Lem, where did you find the courage? Lem, how did you muster the strength?
Lem had told the story and answered those questions in so many interviews in the last few days that he could put his brain on autopilot and regurgitate every detail without giving it any thought. Yet he knew that if he wanted to come off as sincere, if he wanted the vid to get traction on the nets, his words couldn't come off as rote.
Lem nodded thoughtfully, as if no one had ever asked that question before. He angled his face slightly to the side, giving one of the cameras a nice profile. "I was afraid, Unna. Terrified." He paused for dramatic effect. "I had men down on the surface of that ship who were in danger. I felt helpless. I wouldn't wish that experience on anyone. Nothing is more painful than to watch your friends die."
"You call them your friends?"
"A mining ship is very close quarters. I had traveled with these men and women for a year at that point. We knew each other intimately. We were like family."
"Speaking of families, you started a foundation to support the families of the crewmembers you lost."
Lem nodded. "I felt the need to honor those men and women, to remember their sacrifice. And I wanted to ensure that the needs of their loved ones would be met. Juke Limited takes care of its own, Unna. Our company feels a responsibility to its people. I've always respected my father for his belief in that regard."
She was asking all the right questions, giving him a chance to make a plug for the company whenever it seemed natural and unscripted. The PR team, who had arranged this interview, would no doubt be grateful. It had been their idea to conduct the interview here in Lem's apartment. "People want to see where you live, Mr. Jukes, what you eat, where you sleep, the design of your furniture. It's real, it's intimate. It will humanize you."
Meaning what? Lem had wanted to ask. That I'm not human enough already?
But he had kept his quips to himself.
In some respects, Lem found it all exhilarating and familiar. Before leaving for the Kuiper Belt, he had often had a camera shoved in his face, snapping photos and recording vids of him as he stepped out of his skimmer at some red-carpet affair. He was not a celebrity in the traditional sense. He had first gained notoriety as the handsome son of Ukko Jukes, the asteroid-mining tycoon and wealthiest man alive. But later, as Lem had made his own fortune independent of his father, proving he could be just as aggressive an entrepreneur as his father had ever been, Lem's face had appeared on more reputable, business-oriented sites. Suddenly he was not only known, but also respected.
And now here he was, reinventing himself yet again. Lem Jukes, war hero.
Unna's questions then went to the Battle of the Belt. "You and your crew found footage of the battle."