"Are you honestly suggesting that we put the safety of other ships, other families, complete strangers, above our own?" said Toron. "Above the safety of your own mother and father? Your cousins and aunts?"
"I'm suggesting that the preservation of the human race is more important than the preservation of this family."
"You would abandon the family that quickly?" said Toron. "Well, I hope I never have to fight for this family with you at my side."
Dreo nodded. "Everyone appreciates what you do, Vico, but this is an adult conversation."
"What am I missing?" said Victor. "What am I failing to understand because of my age?"
"Do you know what it's like to have a wife?" said Toron. "To have children?"
"Of course not," said Victor.
"Then perhaps you can understand why we'd consider your suggestion a bit naive. I will emphatically reject any idea that puts my wife and children in danger. I would choose to save one of my own daughters over saving ten strangers. Or a hundred strangers. And so would every other parent in this room. It's easy for you to speak of noble sacrifices when you have nothing to lose."
"Toron's right," said Dreo. "Our first obligation is to ourselves. And let's think about this diplomatically, too. If we cause an alarm and it proves to be nothing, we'll look like fools to the other families. No one would zog with us, no one would trade with us. We'd do ourselves irreparable harm for no reason."
"I'm not suggesting that we scream 'invasion' to the world," said Victor. "I'm merely seconding my mother's original suggestion. We tell everyone exactly what we know and allow them to look into it as much as we are. Why would anyone think less of us for our giving them irrefutable evidence? We don't have to give them gloom and doom predictions. We just give them the facts. If anything, this would build our standing among the families. We would earn everyone's gratitude and respect for informing them. Consider the situation in reverse: If we were to learn after an attack by an alien starship that another family knew of the existence of that ship and did nothing to warn us, we would despise that family. We would blame them for our losses."
Toron turned to Concepcion. "Victor is your invited guest, Concepcion. But he is monopolizing the floor."
"He hasn't spoken any more than you have," said Father.
"Yes," said Toron. "And I am a member of this Council. He is not. He is disrespecting the captain."
"She asked for objections," said Mother. "He politely voiced one."
"Which he had no authority to do," said Toron. "I recognize that your son can do no wrong in your eyes, but by the code of this Council, he is out of line."
"I happen to agree with him," said Marco.
"I agree with him also," said Toron. "Everyone here wants to do the right thing. Of course we will send a warning to everyone if that ever proves necessary. But right now is too soon. We don't know enough. And for Victor to presume to know how pirates would respond is laughably naive."
"We don't even know if there are pirates this far out," said Father.
"Exactly," said Toron. "We don't know. That's why we should be prudent, not rash. I propose we put it to a general vote."
"I second that," said Father.
Concepcion looked at the crowd. "Objections?"
There were none.
"Very well," said Concepcion. "All those who agree with sending out a blanket transmission immediately."
A third of the room raised their hand, including Mother, Father, and Marco. Edimar raised her hand as well, but a withering look from her father made her put it down again. Victor kept his hand down since he wasn't a member of the Council. Concepcion took a visible count, nodded, and said, "All those who feel we should inform only the Italians and Juke ship at this point."
The remaining hands in the room went up, a much larger portion of people. Toron allowed himself a small, triumphant smile.
They were going to do nothing, Victor realized. Nothing immediate anyway, nothing significant, nothing that would ensure their safety in the coming months. They would send out two messages, and then they would sit and wait and hopefully learn something new.
Victor wasn't going to wait with them. He couldn't control when and how the family warned others, but he could control the mechanical functionality of the ship. He could make improvements to the ship's defenses and weapons. He didn't need Council approval for that.
The meeting was breaking up. People were dispersing.
"You tried, Vico," said Mother. "I'm proud of you for that."
"Thank you, Mother." He turned to Father. "We should focus on the pebble-killers first."
"Agreed," said Father, already tapping a command into his handheld. "I'll wake up Mono."
Victor knew he wouldn't have to explain himself to Father. It was obvious what they needed to do. They had to find a way to make the pebble-killers more powerful and lethal. With the whole ship helping, the work would have gone much faster, but now it was going to be just the three of them. Victor hurried from the room. Toron and others would probably think that his quick departure was that of a pouting teenager who had lost an argument, but Victor didn't care. Let them think what they wanted. He had work to do.
CHAPTER 5
Benyawe
Lem was in his office with the lights out, watching a holo simulation of asteroid 2002GJ166 being hit with the glaser. It was a simple holo sim. Only ten seconds long. But the engineers who had put it together had spent three days building it. Every detail of the asteroid had been meticulously re-created. The engineers had even gone so far as to painstakingly re-create the mineshaft the free miners had cut into the rock. In all aspects it was identical to the real thing, albeit a thousand times smaller. At first, nothing happened. Then, as the glaser hit it, the asteroid exploded, sending thousands of rock fragments shooting outward in every direction like a giant growing sphere of gravel. Soon the pieces of the sphere became so far apart that the sphere lost any semblance of shape and all that was left was empty space. The holo sim winked out. Lem turned to Dr. Dublin and Dr. Benyawe, who were standing beside his desk patiently waiting for his reaction. "It's completely obliterated," said Lem. "How am I supposed to mine an obliterated asteroid?"
The Makarhu was less than a day away from the real asteroid. Chubs's "Red Light Green Light" approach had worked flawlessly for nine days. El Cavador was oblivious. The free miners had shown no sign of knowing another ship was approaching their position. No threatening radio messages, no warning shots, nothing. Either they were exceptionally good at playing dumb, or they were in for the surprise of their life.
Now, however, the engineers were telling Lem through a holo sim that it didn't matter anyway, because the glaser was going to annihilate the asteroid and leave them empty-handed. "This is unacceptable," said Lem. "There's nothing left of the asteroid."
"Our math could be off," said Dublin. "We've never fired the glaser at an object this big before. The simulation only runs the data we give it, and we don't have a lot of data. Much of this is conjecture."
"Then what's the point of building a simulation?" said Lem. "You're showing me what might happen? I can do that myself. I have a pretty decent imagination. Forgive me for being blunt, Dr. Dublin, but guesswork doesn't help us here. I need facts. What you're showing me are half facts. And to be perfectly honest, not the half facts I want to see. The glaser is a mining tool. We're in the business of extracting minerals. What you're showing me is skeet shooting. I don't care if you blow up the asteroid, but sending millions of pieces hurtling away in every direction is not going to work. Miners can't chase down rock fragments all day. The glaser is supposed to expedite the mining process, not complicate it. I can tolerate this reaction with pebbles, but not with big rocks. That isn't what the Board had in mind."
"You don't want guesswork, Lem," said Benyawe, "but guesswork is mostly what we have. We haven't done enough field tests to predict with a high degree of accuracy what exactly is going to happen. That is why the mission was designed the way it was,
with us conducting many tests using gradually larger asteroids."
Lem shook his head. "The original plan is gone. We're seven weeks behind schedule. We have a new plan now, one we've been following for nine days. I agree that our original plan is the ideal, but circumstances have changed."
"Then all we can show you are possibilities," said Benyawe, "nothing definitive. We won't know that until we blast the real thing. We can try to minimize the gravity field more, and that might lessen the explosion, but we cannot predict how far the field will spread."
Lem rubbed his eyes, exhausted. It hadn't been a very pleasant nine days. And another round of "data talk" with the engineers wasn't helping. Part of the problem was the lighting--or rather, the lack thereof. Per Chubs's instructions, Lem had ordered the ship to "go dark" when they had set out for the asteroid. This meant turning off all exterior and most interior lights in order to remain invisible from El Cavador's light-sensitive sky scanner. Lem had expected this to be a challenge. Moving around the ship in near darkness would take some getting used to. What he hadn't anticipated was how the lack of light had put everyone in an irritated, cheerless mood. Normally Lem could move through the halls of the ship and hear laughter and friendly conversation. These days the halls were as silent as they were dark.
Even more annoying was the constant stopping and starting of the ship. To sneak up undetected, the Makarhu remained motionless when they were exposed to El Cavador's side of the asteroid, then the ship rushed forward whenever El Cavador was on the far side. Stopping. Starting. Stopping. Starting. It made sleep next to impossible, and Lem's body felt anxious and fatigued because of it.
"You're right," said Lem. "I'm asking for the impossible. I'm asking you to tell me what will happen without allowing you to gather the data to formulate an answer. That's not fair. I realize that. But we are at the eleventh hour, and we have one shot at this. I'm only asking that we do all we can to make that one shot work."
Dublin began gathering his things. "We'll see what we can do, Mr. Jukes."
"I have full confidence in you," said Lem.
Dublin launched himself toward the exit, but Benyawe stayed behind.
"May I have a word, Lem?" she asked.
"You may have a hundred, Dr. Benyawe. It will keep me awake."
"I have remained silent on this issue since we set out for this asteroid," said Benyawe, "but if I don't say something now, before we get there, I'll be disappointed in myself."
Lem knew where this was going. As he had expected, the decision to bump the free miners was unpopular with the engineers. Their world was black or white. An experiment failed or it didn't. Data was right or it wasn't. The prototype worked or it didn't. The idea of a gray area, wherein it was acceptable under certain circumstances to take a dig site by force, was hard for an engineer to swallow. They all knew that Juke Limited was involved in unsavory business practices, but it was much easier to turn a blind eye to such things from the safe and cozy rooms of one's lab back on Luna. Out here in the deep of space, the hard truth of it stared you in the face.
Lem held up a hand. "If you're going to tell me you think bumping these free miners is morally wrong, save your breath. I feel the same way."
"You do?"
"Absolutely. It's cheating, basically. And bullying. Not to mention extremely dangerous."
"Then why are we doing it?"
"Because the alternative is an eight-month round-trip. If we go that far, we will seriously deplete our fuel supplies. Plus we have no guarantee that the farther asteroid will be any more vacant than this one. Who's to say there isn't a whole fleet of free miners moored to the other asteroid?"
"Those aren't our only options," said Benyawe. "We could proceed with the mission as planned. It's not too late for that. We look for more pebbles of gradually greater size and adjust the glaser as we go along. Free miners don't touch pebbles. This would be a nonissue."
"We have to do a big asteroid anyway," said Lem. "All we're doing is jumping ahead. It's unfortunate that we have to vacate the free miners, but that is the world we're living in now. Chubs assures me that we can do this with minimal structural damage to their ship and without harming any of their crew."
"It's not right. We're taking what's theirs."
"Technically, Doctor, it isn't theirs. They have no deed. No right to ownership. That rock is ours as much as it is theirs. Just ask STASA."
Lem wasn't exactly sure he was right. The Space Trade and Security Authority, the international organization that provided oversight for the space-mining industry, might actually side with Benyawe on this one. But if Lem didn't know the minutiae of such policies, he was fairly confident Benyawe wouldn't, either. If he sounded sure of himself, she wouldn't argue.
"But they got there first," said Benyawe. "That has to account for something."
"It has accounted for something. They've mined two quickships of metal. We're not leaving them destitute, Doctor. Considering how much they've pulled out of their mineshaft, they're probably at the end of their dig anyway. We're just sending them off prematurely."
She smiled reproachfully. "We don't know if they're at the end of their dig, Lem. That's baseless speculation just to help us sleep at night."
"You're right," said Lem. "But that doesn't change our situation. Unless another large asteroid pops into existence in the next few hours, we're going through with this."
"Then I'd like it noted in the ship's official records that I object to this action."
That surprised Lem. "You feel that strongly?"
"I do. And I'm not the only one. A lot of the engineers are uneasy about this, not only because it feels like stealing but also because they fear for their lives. What if these free miners are better defended and better equipped than we think? We're scientists, Lem, not soldiers."
"I assure you, Doctor, bumping a bunch of pebble eaters is the safest thing in the world."
"Please don't use that term. I find it offensive. They're human beings."
"Pebble eaters. Rock suckers. Ash trash. Dig dogs. Mine mites. Scavengers. These words exist, Dr. Benyawe, because these kind of people live a less-than-civilized lifestyle. They marry their sisters. They're completely uneducated. Their children never learn to walk. Their legs are just bone and sinew because they never develop them. It's as if they're becoming a different species altogether."
"You're talking about isolated incidents. Not all of them are like that. Most of them are quite innovative."
"Have you watched the exposes, Doctor? Have you seen the documentaries on these people? It's enough to turn your stomach."
"Sensationalism, Lem. You know that. The vast majority of free miners are intelligent, hardworking families who love their children and obey space law. By bumping them we're taking away a family's livelihood."
"And ensuring our own. This is the world we live in now, Doctor. We're not in a lab on Luna anymore. This is the frontier. Out here it's not all squeaky clean. Do we allow ourselves to fail so that a group of free miners can tap an asteroid for everything it's got? No, we don't. We take it. Do I like that option? No, but it's nothing these free miners haven't seen before. This is their world. In all likelihood, they bump ships too. Who's to say they didn't bump somebody off this rock to take it for themselves?"
"More baseless speculation."
"I'm painting a picture here, Benyawe. I'm reminding you that the rules are different out here in the Deep. I don't like it any more than you do. These free miners have an obligation to their family, yes, but we have an obligation as well."
Benyawe frowned. "To the Board, you mean? To our stockholders? Seriously, Lem. You can't compare that to family."
"Just because these people are related to each other doesn't make their cause any nobler than ours. They've got two quickships of metal from this rock. They're going to be fine."
Lem's holodisplay chimed, and a message-acceptance request appeared. Lem waved his hand through the holospace, and Chubs's head appeared.
"We've got an issue, Lem," said Chubs. "Bumping this ship is going to be trickier than we thought. Can you come to the helm?"
Lem left his office immediately. He didn't want Benyawe tagging along, but she either didn't get the cues from his body language or she chose to ignore them completely. Either way, she followed him down the hall to the push tube. Before climbing inside, Lem faced her. "If you write up a formal objection," he said, "I will sign it and put it on record in the ship's computers. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business on the helm."
"I'd like to come along," she said.
It was a bad idea. Engineers never came to the helm, and this wasn't a good time to start, especially knowing how opposed she was to the bump. "This isn't a matter for the engineers," said Lem.
"I'm not just an engineer, Lem. I'm the director of Special Operations, an appointment you gave me. I'd say bumping a ship clearly qualifies as a special operation."
Lem suddenly understood why Father would put a man like Dublin in charge of engineers. The Dublins of the world never questioned you. If they disagreed with superiors, they zipped their lips and towed the line. That didn't make them better leaders, per se, but it certainly made Lem's and Father's jobs easier. Benyawe was another breed entirely. Staying silent was not in her DNA. But wasn't that why he had promoted her in the first place? He wanted straight counsel.
"You can come," said Lem. "But I can't have you arguing with me at the helm."
"I don't argue," said Benyawe.
"You're arguing with me now."
"I'm strongly disagreeing. There's a difference."
"Fine. Don't strongly disagree with me then. My point is, on the helm I am the commanding officer. You can ask questions. You can make observations. But if you take issue with anything I say, keep it to yourself until we're alone."
"Fair enough."
Chubs was waiting for them at the systems chart. The map had been replaced with a large holo of El Cavador. It was nothing like the original holo Lem had seen of the ship--that had been a 3-D rendering the computer had on file for the specific make and model of ship. This was the real thing. The Makarhu was now close enough to the asteroid to take high-res scans of the free-miner ship, and Lem couldn't believe what he was seeing.