That war began now, here on board Makarhu, weeks and months from Earth.
"Why did these people charge headlong into danger?" Lem continued, gesturing back at the debris cloud in the holofield. "Why did they risk their families? Because they felt a duty to protect the human race. A duty greater than themselves. I know many of you feel that same duty. I feel it too. I feel it so strongly that for the past several months I have lain in my hammock at night, overcome with shame."
Their faces showed their surprise.
"Yes, shame. I am ashamed that we sit here and do nothing except follow at a safe distance, while others fight to protect Earth. I wanted to warn Kleopatra. I wanted to rush in and tell them exactly what they were up against. But Chubs could not allow it." At the mention of his name, everyone turned to Chubs, who stood off to the side near the front, face forward, revealing nothing. "Yes," Lem continued, "that is a secret I recently learned that none of you know. Chubs was told by my father to keep me out of harm's way at all cost."
The crew exchanged glances.
"That's why we've been following the Formics at a safe distance," Lem continued. "That's why people have died. Because my father values me more than them, and thus prevents Chubs from helping them. That is why I am ashamed."
Here was the critical moment, he knew, the moment where he could let his own emotion show. Not as tears, of course--he couldn't look weak here. It would be much more powerful to give the appearance of approaching tears and then be strong and stoic enough to push them back. It wasn't easy. A lot of actors thought you had to go big, weeping and wailing and breaking a plate or two, but Lem knew better. It was the contained emotion that moved people. The grief and sadness that was threatening to rise up out of you, but dammit you weren't going to let it; you were going to be strong.
He pulled it off flawlessly, staying silent for slightly longer than normal so that they knew he was struggling to keep his emotions at bay. Then he cleared his throat, composed himself, and moved on. A few more near the front were crying.
"Were it up to me, we would be doing our duty to Earth," he said. "We would be doing more. We would be saving lives other than our own. But I am powerless. I see that now. With Chubs following his order from my father, I'm unable to do what I know is right. That is why, effective immediately, I am resigning my post as your captain."
Their faces said it all. Shock. Disbelief.
Lem couldn't have asked for a better reaction.
"You'll forgive me," he said, "but I can't continue to be the reason why we turn our backs on people. Should he accept the assignment, Chubs will serve as your captain. If he must adhere to my father's order, if he must put obedience to that rule above all concerns, then he must bear the shame of it. I hope he forgives me for giving him that burden, but I can't live with myself knowing that people are dying because he is protecting me."
Lem kicked off from the platform, floated over to Chubs, and offered his hand. Chubs saw that everyone was watching, some resentfully.
Chubs wisely took the offered hand and shook it, uneasy.
"You may not have allowed us to prevent those deaths," said Lem, "but you were doing what you thought was right. I commend you for that. I only pray God forgives us all."
Chubs didn't say a word. What could he say?
Lem launched across the room, climbed into the push tube, adjusted the polarity of his vambraces and shins, and said, "Fourteen."
The tube whooshed him away. When he reached his quarters, he moved straight to his holodesk. "Show me the helm."
Six video feeds appeared in the air above his desk, all taken from tiny cameras Lem had placed throughout the helm. He didn't have audio, but he didn't need it. He saw how some of the crew looked askance at Chubs with pure contempt.
Lem relaxed. All he had to do now was wait.
*
He didn't have to wait too long. Benyawe came to his quarters a few hours later. "That was quite a performance," she said. Lem was in his hammock, zipped to his waist, a box of chocolates floating in front of him. "Is that your reward to yourself?" she asked, gesturing to the chocolates.
"Nina. One of the cooks makes them for me. She brought me a box a little while ago."
"No doubt to comfort you as you deal with your shame." She forced a smile.
"They're quite good," said Lem, ignoring the jibe. "You should try one." Without waiting for her to answer he removed one from the box and pushed it through the air to her. It floated into her outstretched hand, and she popped it into her mouth and chewed.
"Little heavy for my taste," said Benyawe.
"The chocolate or my performance?"
"Both. When you almost cried, I thought that a bit much. Very convincing, mind you. But a bit much."
"Everything I said was true."
"Nearly everything," said Benyawe. "You said those people died because of us, that we would have warned them if not for Chubs. That's not true. Most of them we wouldn't have reached before the Formics did. In fact, in nearly every case, there's nothing we could have done. Had we not fled the Formic ship and come out this far, we likely would have died from the Formics venting their gamma plasma. Chubs was keeping us alive. And yet you practically tied him to the stake and set the thing aflame. That wasn't very sporting. He has been nothing but dutiful to you."
"Dutiful to my father, you mean."
"He saved your life, Lem," said Benyawe.
That was true enough, thought Lem. During the attack on the Formic ship, Chubs had acted swiftly and saved Lem from a charging Formic who seemed bent on ripping him limb from limb.
"When this is all over," said Lem, "I will see to it that my father rewards Chubs for his service."
"If he gives you the captainship, that is," said Benyawe. "If he plays his part in this little theatrical production of yours."
"Maybe you weren't paying attention at the memorial service, Benyawe. I resigned the captainship."
She looked annoyed. "Please, Lem. What choice does Chubs have now but to give it back to you and commit to the crew that he will never interfere with your orders again? If he doesn't do it, there's already talk of it being taken from him."
Lem feigned shock. "Mutiny?"
"Don't pretend to be appalled, Lem. That's what you want, isn't it?"
Now he sincerely looked surprised. "You don't honestly think I want mutiny, do you?"
She frowned and folded her arms. "Probably not. But you might not be too quick to squelch it."
He smiled. "That is the captain's duty. Not mine."
She laughed. "You know, sometimes I look at you and see a younger version of your father, and sometimes I see a better version of your father."
"Yet you always see my father. I'm not sure how to take that."
"You are your father's son ... whether you want to be or not."
He was surprised by that statement. Was it that evident that he hoped to distance himself from Father? He had been careful never to disparage Father in front of anyone, especially the crew. If anything, he had always spoken of his love for Father, which was not easily expressed but which was true nonetheless. He did love Father. Not in a traditional sense, perhaps, but the respect he held for Father was, he had to admit, a love of sorts.
There was a chime, and the female voice of the computer announced, "Chief Officer Patrick Chubs."
Benyawe smirked. "Shouldn't that be Captain Chubs?"
Lem ignored her. "Enter," he said.
The door slid open, and Chubs floated into the room. He looked tired and not at all surprised to see Benyawe. "So how do you want to do this exactly?" he asked Lem.
"Do what?" Lem asked.
"Finish this fiasco. We've got to see it through. I'll refuse the captainship and promise never to interfere with your orders again. How do you want to do it? You want me to make an announcement, write a mail message, or do we need to have another scene in front of the crew? Frankly whatever the plan is, I'd like to get it over with."
Lem felt a
pang of guilt then. Benyawe was right. Chubs had been dutiful. He didn't deserve to be vilified. The man was only doing the job Father had hired him to do. Lem unzipped himself from the hammock and floated over to him. "You will always have a place in this company, Chubs. A good place. Your pick of it. I'll see to that. And should you refuse the captainship and insist that I take it, I would keep you as my chief officer. I'd be foolish not to. You're the most loyal and capable man on this ship."
"Is that safe?" asked Benyawe. "A few hours ago, you had the crew ready to string him up."
"He'd be working with the officers," said Lem. "They're completely loyal to Chubs."
"I wouldn't say completely," said Chubs. "Not anymore."
Again, a twinge of guilt pecked at Lem's conscience. He hadn't ruined Chubs per se, but he had severely damaged him, no question. Whatever friendship might have once existed between them was gone now. Lem could see that. There would forever be an awkward formality between them now.
"I'm sorry you felt the memorial service was a scene," said Lem. "And if you're choosing to refuse the captainship, you must understand that I cannot interfere with that decision in any way. I can't tell you how to proceed. That would imply I orchestrated all this, which of course is not true. This must be your own decision. How and when you do it is entirely up to you."
It was unlikely that Chubs was recording their conversation in an effort to catch Lem in some confession, but it was better to be safe than sorry. They could never have any words between them that implied Lem had forced Chubs's hand.
Chubs nodded. He understood. Then he excused himself.
When he was gone Benyawe said, "When we return to Luna, I hope we hold another memorial service. One with a little more heart. The dead deserve that."
She launched off the floor and left without another word.
The holo from Chubs came a half hour later, sent out to all members of the crew. In it, he thanked Lem for thinking him worthy of so great an office, but he couldn't possibly accept. Nor would he interfere with Lem's commands. He agreed completely with Lem. Earth came first. If Ukko Jukes fired him for his insubordination, so be it. It was a small price to pay.
It was expertly done. Professional, sincere, and quite touching. Lem even found his eyes misting over, though his relief might have added to the emotion.
He waited an hour before recording his own holo. He humbly thanked Chubs for his selflessness and insisted that Chubs continue as his chief officer. It was a decent take, but he knew he could do better. Might as well get it right before sending it out. On the seventh take he had it. Every pause and breath and word was exactly as it needed to be. He sent it, waited another hour, then returned to the helm.
Chubs was waiting for him at the system chart. "What's your first unhindered command as captain?"
"Take us closer to the Formics' trajectory," said Lem. "Our scanners can't read much out here. Let's learn what we can and get back to Luna as soon as possible."
"You're the boss," said Chubs.
Yes, thought Lem. For the first time in two years, I am.
CHAPTER 4
Ukko
The track car sped east through the city of Imbrium, passing dormitories and government buildings and small industrial complexes. Victor sat by the window watching everything zip by, still amazed at the size and immensity of the city. "How do you fill all these domes and connector tunnels with oxygen?" he asked. "Where do you find that much air?"
Yanyu was still sitting opposite him, escorting Victor and Imala to the Juke observatory. "Lunar oxygen mostly comes from excavation," she said. "Everything you see is what we call the Old City. When people first came to Luna, they built the settlement on the surface. That required them to first build all these airtight domes to contain the oxygen and to protect the settlers from a constant bombardment of space particles. It was very expensive. These days all new construction takes place underground. That's where most people live now, as a matter of fact."
"You live aboveground," said Victor.
"Only because I'm on a budget and can't afford to live in the tunnels," said Yanyu. "But if I had the money I would. It's safer. You don't have to worry about bombardments or collision threats. And since there's no tectonic activity on the Moon, you don't have to worry about earthquakes either. Plus it's much quieter. The real benefit, though, is all the raw materials we extract from the excavated rock. Metals for construction of course, but also oxygen."
Victor looked surprised. "Oxygen from rocks? Is that possible?"
"You're breathing it," said Imala.
Victor sat back and shook his head. "Do you have any idea how useful that tech would be out in the Kuiper Belt? All of our O2 came from mining ice. If we didn't find ice, we were muerto. Dead. A lot of families were lost that way."
"It's much easier to extract oxygen from ice," said Imala. "That doesn't take a lot of equipment. Pulling oxygen and nitrogen from rock, on the other hand, takes massive processing facilities. We don't build ships big enough to carry that tech out to the Deep. Someday perhaps, but not in our lifetime."
"What about fuel and energy for the tunnels?" asked Victor. "If the heat of the sun doesn't reach them, they must be freezing."
"All power on the moon is electric," said Imala. "It all comes from high-efficiency batteries powered by solar energy. There are solar arrays all over the surface, with the biggest ones in the equatorial area where the collectors lie flat on the ground. There are big ones at the poles, too, where rotating collectors on towers face the sun twenty-four/seven. Believe me, as long as the sun shines, power and heat aren't an issue."
Victor nodded, though he didn't share Imala's confidence. Batteries were unreliable. They failed all the time on El Cavador. "So this observatory we're going to, since it has telescopes, I'm assuming it's aboveground?"
"Oh no," said Yanyu. "It's below the surface. Almost all of the Juke facilities are. In fact, most of the tunnels outside the city belong to Juke Limited, although few people know how vast the company's tunnels really are. Mr. Jukes has secret R&D efforts in almost every industry, and yet few of those operations or departments appear on any tunnel maps. If I had to guess, I'd say the company's tunnel system is much bigger than the city itself."
"But if the observatory is underground, where are the scopes?" asked Victor.
"Far from here," said Yanyu, "positioned at various points around Luna, away from any light pollution. We tell them where to look, then we process all the images and data in our observation room. Traditional observatories like those on Earth don't exist on Luna. Up here they're all cubicles and office space. Not very interesting, I'm afraid."
The track car dipped suddenly into a tunnel entrance, and for a moment they found themselves in total darkness until the vehicle's interior lights turned on.
They maintained their speed for several minutes until the car took a fork in the track and began to decelerate. It took a series of turns and then pulled into a docking slot and stopped. Air tubes extended from the wall and encircled the vehicle. Then a chime sounded the all-clear, and the doors slid open. Victor, Imala, and Yanyu stepped out onto the docking platform. Yanyu then led them through a labyrinth of corridors and a series of locked doors. Victor was lost almost immediately.
At each door, a cubical holofield hovered by the doorjamb. Yanyu extended her hand into the holofield and did a series of wrist twists and finger movements that unlocked the door. At first Victor thought the movements were random, but then one of the doors buzzed in the negative and Yanyu had to retract her hand, reinsert it into the field, and begin the dance again. Finally they reached a simple, metal door adorned with the Juke Limited logo and the words:
ASTRONOMICAL OBSERVATORY
Yanyu led them into a low-lit observation room with a domed ceiling. Images of star clusters and nebulae and astronomical data were projected onto the ceiling, dissolving in and out like a screensaver. A dozen desks were scattered around the room with lamps and computer terminals and person
al items. In the center of the room was a conference table, where a small crowd of researchers stood waiting. Yanyu stopped and gestured to the bearded man near the front. "Victor, Imala, I'd like you to meet Dr. Richard Prescott, the director of the observatory and our lead astrophysicist."
Prescott stepped forward and shook Imala's hand. He was younger than Victor had expected, midthirties maybe, with a mop of brown hair and casual street clothes. "Ms. Bootstamp. A privilege. Welcome. And Mr. Delgado, good to have you, as well. I hope you had no problems getting here."
"I had to sneak Victor out of the recovery hospital where he was being held," said Imala. "Which broke a few laws and makes both of us fugitives. Other than that, no problems."
Prescott seem unfazed by this. He put his hands in his pockets and smiled warmly. "Well, you're safe here."
Imala cut to the chase. "We need to get an audience with Ukko Jukes. With his backing, we can make a legitimate warning to Earth. Can you make that happen?"
"Probably," said Prescott. "But first things first." He gestured to the conference table. "Won't you sit down?"
"You don't believe us, do you?" said Victor.
Prescott smiled. "We wouldn't have brought you here if we didn't think you might be telling the truth, Victor. We all believe you to some extent. But before any of us act, we want to be absolutely certain. There are people outside this room who will need a lot more convincing than us. If we work together, we might be able to win them over." He gestured again to the table, and this time Victor and Imala each took a seat.
Prescott sat at the head of the table. "You have to realize, people in our field are even more skeptical of claims of extraterrestrial life than normal people. We have to be. Scientists are bred to doubt and question everything. Plus the prevailing belief has always been that we would hear extraterrestrial life before we saw it. We'd pick up their transmissions long before they showed up on our scopes. But so far no one in the science community has heard anything."
"You can't hear anything," said Imala. "The interference is crippling communications."
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