“We can’t leave the nuke in the open,” said Wit. “We don’t know the Formics’ capabilities. They might recognize the nuke as a threat and disarm it before it detonates. We can’t risk that. The drill sledge will act like a vault. The Formics won’t be able to reach the nuke if it stays in the cockpit. Detonation is practically guaranteed.”
“Fine,” said Calinga, “but I’m carrying the nuke with me. I’m much smaller than you, so there’s far more room for it in my cockpit. Once we’re in the lander I’ll leave it behind and climb into Mazer’s drill sledge with him. Same plan, just different people. And don’t argue, Wit. You know it makes sense. Mazer is a better pilot than you, and again, size matters. You’re almost as big as the both of us together. Mazer and I will fit much easier in a cockpit than either of us will fit with you. I know you don’t like me taking the risk when you can, but my way is strategically sound.”
“You’re right,” said Wit. “You carry the package. Mazer, how far below the lander do we need to be to pick up enough speed to penetrate the hull?”
“I’m not sure we can penetrate the hull,” said Mazer. “I don’t know what it’s composed of. We might cut through it, we might not.”
“Assuming we can,” said Wit.
“Three hundred meters at least,” said Mazer.
“All right,” said Wit. “You take point, Mazer. Calinga and I will be on either side of you, tracking parallel.”
They climbed into their respective drill sledges and fired up the drills. Moments later they were each digging into the side of the hill, spewing back hot lava. Once underground, Mazer began a long gradual descent, heading for a spot three hundred meters below the lander. His cool-suit did its best to maintain a normal body temperature, but it erred on the side of cold. In moments, Mazer’s fingers felt stiff and he could see his own breath inside his helmet. His visor frosted at the edges, but fans cycled air through the helmet and kept the visor from fogging completely.
The deeper they went below the surface, the more solid rock they encountered and the faster they moved. They tried not to go hot too often since they couldn’t communicate when they moved at those speeds, but at times it couldn’t be avoided.
Mazer watched the depth-gauge holo on his dash. When they drew close to the lander, the holo filled with crisscrossing white lines. “The Formics must be tunnelers,” he said. “It’s like an ant colony down here.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and run into a few Formics,” said Calinga. “And I mean that literally. We grind them up and spit them out the back.”
They finally got into position, three hundred meters below the surface, almost directly below the lander. Mazer was practically on his back in his seat, wiggling his fingers and toes, trying to keep his blood circulating. It wasn’t doing any good. “I’m ready, Wit. Give the word before my whole body turns to ice.”
Wit’s voice came over the communicator. “Calinga, you set?”
“Set and freezing my ass off,” said Calinga. “Let’s get a move on.”
“Punch it,” said Wit.
Mazer hit the throttle, and his drill sledge surged upward, spewing back lava and taking off. The cockpit shook, and Mazer gripped the steering bars tighter, holding on, pushing the drill to build momentum. He could feel the heat rising inside the cockpit. It was a welcome relief after the cold, but it quickly became blazing hot. “Two hundred and fifty meters to target,” he said.
The three drill sledges surged upward, chewing through rock and earth. Mazer kept his eyes on the depth gauge, but the growing vibrations made it difficult to focus his eyes on the readout. “Two hundred meters,” he said.
More white lines appeared on the screen. First there were only a few, but then dozens materialized as the drill sledges drew near to the lander. The Formics were definitely tunnelers, Mazer thought. No doubt of that now.
The depth gauge scrolled up and revealed a huge spot of white immediately beneath the lander. “Wait!” Mazer said. “Slow down. There’s a large air pocket right beneath the lander. We’ll never make it.”
“I see it,” said Wit. “Full stop at the air pocket.”
Mazer continued to slow, breaking through the last of the earth and coming up into the air pocket almost at a crawl. The drill began to wind down, and the sledge tipped forward and leveled out on what looked like the floor of a massive cave. Wit’s and Calinga’s sledges appeared beside him. Mazer opened the cockpit and stood in his seat. He shined his helmet lights directly above him and saw the underside of the lander. A few more meters and he could have reached up and touched the metal surface.
The air pocket was huge. Mazer wasn’t sure how wide it was; he shined his floodlight all around him and instead of seeing side walls, he saw only blackness.
“Well that was anticlimactic,” said Calinga. He was standing in his open cockpit, staring up at the underside of the lander, a giant alien ceiling above them. “Here I thought we were going to bust through that thing, and now we can’t even reach it.”