Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(101)

Sparta One will hang back, but only slightly. We’ll round Ceres three seconds after the battleships. Doesn’t sound like much time, but it’s important in the order of battle. The incendiary rounds will have illuminated the surface of Ceres by the time we come around. We’ll have a clear view of whatever is out there, and we’ll issue orders to the rest of the fleet and to our attack drones following behind us.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” James says, “it’s been an honor.”

Ten seconds later, we get our first view of what awaits.





Chapter 52





James





Ceres glows white from the incendiary blasts, so bright I can’t even see the surface. I squint at the screen, unable to tear my eyes away, afraid of what I’ll see.

The flashes fade. Sparta One has come around the dwarf planet so the sun is behind Ceres, lighting its edges like the top of a fuse burning. I’m staring at the dark side of Ceres, now lit by the incendiary devices the fleet has sent to its surface. It’s gray and rocky, like a rougher version of Earth’s moon. And in the center is the white whale I’ve been hunting, the evil device that has killed billions of my people, mercilessly, from afar, as though we were simply a pest in the way.

The creature, if it is alive, is massive. Beyond massive. A dozen arms radiate from its center, like a spider’s legs stretching over the rocky landscape. Each leg has smaller fingers jutting out from the sides, like hairs from a limb. I have never been so in awe as I am right now.

A mechanical spider is clamped to the surface of Ceres.

Based on what I see, I believe my theory was right: this is a harvester. Its arms must gather the material it needs and transport that material to its center, its central manufacturing plant, where the solar cells are constructed and launched toward the sun. It pumps the cells out, like an assembly line, building its solar array cell by cell.

Across the surface of Ceres are a series of ruts, like someone took an ice cream scoop and carved line after line out of the rocky planet. I bet the gullies are where the harvester’s arms were before, gouging out raw material, refining it, using what it needed for the solar cells. It must be able to crawl across the surface.

Streaks of light emanate from the other eight ships. Nuclear weapons on their way to the harvester.

“Fleet is firing at center mass,” Heinrich calls out.

“No!” I shout. “Leo, issue new fleet order: fire on the radial arms. Evasive maneuvers, all ships.”

The ship’s computer beeps, confirming it has heard and executed the order.

Sparta One shifts sharply to the side, the evasive maneuver causing the entire crew to grab on to the table.

“Leo,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected, “instruct attack drones to commence their run. Target will be given as they approach.”

Leo beeps. On the screen, a countdown to the attack drones’ arrival begins.

On the surface of Ceres, the harvester’s arms lift out of the deep valleys they’ve carved, and they rotate, showing their undersides to us. Each one possesses thousands of small holes and hundreds of larger ones, like the arms of an octopus. My guess is that these openings take in material. That guess is confirmed when those openings belch raw material, small and large chunks, at all nine ships of the fleet. It’s literally hurling rocks at us.

“Leo, fleet command: rail guns!” I shout. “Target the points where the arms meet the center. Sever them.”

As soon as the order leaves my mouth, the ship rocks.

I expected a battle in space to be silent or nearly silent. That’s true in theory, but not in practice—not if your ship gets hit. That’s loud. The rocks tear into Sparta One like buckshot through a soda can. The sound is deafening. The smaller rocks reach us first. The larger ones will follow, and they’ll be even more deadly.

“Helmets!” I yell.

Everyone pulls on their suit helmets, except for Oscar.

Emma looks over at me. Her eyes, through the glass of her helmet, are tender and scared. I’m scared too. I’ve never been this scared in my whole life. But seeing her steels me. I’m out here to save a lot of people. But in this second, she’s the one I’m fighting for. She’s the one I have to save.

The screen turns white. The nuclear warheads have exploded. Too soon. The harvester must have hit them with the kinetic bombardments. Still, the plasma cloud might be big enough to sever the arms.

“Weapons controller is offline,” Heinrich says over the comm.

“Oscar, get down there!” I yell.

Without weapons, we’re done for.

Oscar turns, grabs the rim of the hatch, and propels himself forward, flying like Superman through the modules of the ship.

“Leo: order fleet ships to fire all nuclear ordnance.”

The ship shudders, a new wave of debris hitting us. My tether barely holds me to the table. The ship seems listless. The engines are down. We took a bad hit. Probably a mortal one.

“Escape pods!” I shout over the comm. Instantly, I remember that we no longer have escape pods. I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Disregard. Get to your stations. Spread out across the ship. Seal the hatches and uncouple your modules. Right now. Everyone.”

The crew bounces out of the bridge, bound for the modules where they work, modules that can be sealed off from the main ship. They’re similar to the module Emma and I traveled back to Earth in. These won’t get them anywhere, but the crew will have a better chance of survival if they can get some distance from the main body of the ship, which I’m sure is the target of the harvester’s kinetic rounds.