Earth Unaware
Page 40
“Have they vented?” asked Lem.
“No. They’re decelerating. Fast. We did some additional, long-range scans to see why. It looks like a mass of ships has congregated at Kleopatra and positioned themselves directly in the Formics’ path. They’ve essentially built a blockade.”
“How many ships?”
“Twenty-four by our last count. Data from the sky scanner continues to come in, so we may have some more ships pop up as we get closer. We’re still quite a distance behind the Formic ship, but we were closing the gap with the Formics decelerating. I went ahead and ordered the flight crew to match their deceleration and maintain our distance until you could get up here.”
“I’m on my way.”
Lem threw on his uniform and made his way to the helm. He was still buttoning his jacket when he arrived and met Chubs at the holospace. The systems chart had been replaced with a rendering of all the ships positioned in space forming the blockade. There was a bit of distance between each ship, but together they made a giant wall between the Formic ship and Earth.
“Who are they?” asked Lem.
“Corporates and free miners,” said Chubs. “We can tell from their shape and design that there are ships from Juke Limited, WU-HU, MineTek, and several clans of free miners.”
“Then people know about the Formics,” said Lem. “Does everyone know? Does Earth know?”
“Impossible to say,” said Chubs. “But I highly doubt it. We’re still way too far away for the Formic ship to show up on Earth scopes. The ship’s too small and too dim. The only way Earth could know the ship exists is if someone out here told them. And the interference here is as thick as ever. These ships forming the blockade can’t communicate with Earth any more than we can. Just because they know doesn’t mean anyone else knows. Plus notice that they’re all mining ships. No military ships among them. These aren’t ships sent from Earth. They were already out here. My guess is, one of them saw the Formic ship on their sky scanner and alerted the other ships in the immediate vicinity. Transmissions within a few hundred kilometers get through fine, and this is a main flight path. So there’s going to be traffic. Plus the interference would cause ships to cluster together anyway to try to figure out what was going on.”
“When will the Formics reach them?”
“Within a few hours.”
“Those ships have no idea what the Formics are capable of. They’ll try to communicate with them like the Italians did. We’ve got to tell them what we know.”
“We can’t, Lem. We’d have to get close enough to reach them on the radio. That would put us within range of the Formics’ weapons. There’s likely to be a battle, and we would be thrown into the middle of it.”
“We can’t sit back and let them die, Chubs. Some of those ships are our own people.”
Chubs lowered his voice. “May I speak to you in private, Lem?”
Lem was surprised by the question but he obliged. They moved into the conference room adjacent to the helm, and Chubs closed the door behind them.
“We can’t lose sight of our mission, Lem. We’ve got intel to get to Earth.”
“We’re not losing sight of anything,” said Lem. “We’re saving people’s lives. We don’t have to join in the fight. We don’t even have to slow down. We fly in fast and transmit a message to the ships as we pass. We tell them to flee. We send them everything we know, and we get out. We’ve been waiting for the Formics to decelerate so we can pass them and beat them to Earth. This is our chance.”
“It’s too dangerous, Lem. We can’t go anywhere near the Formic ship. It’s set to vent at any moment. If we’re even remotely close to it when it does, we’re ashes. Consider another alternative. We change course now. We get off the ecliptic and move up in a tall parabola, going high over the Formic ship while it’s stopped. Then we come back down toward Luna. That way, even if the ship vents, we’re too far away to suffer any damage.”
“Then everyone on those ships will die,” said Lem. “They’ll stay and fight and they’ll die. Plus we would lose valuable time taking a circuitous route. Look, I’ve heard your counsel. I appreciate it. I acknowledge that what I’m proposing is a risk. But I’m making the call here. We’re not ditching anyone else to save our own necks. I’ve done that too many damn times already. We’re staying the course.” He wiped his hand through the holospace over the conference table in a particular sequence, and the navigator’s head appeared. “Accelerate back to our previous speed,” said Lem.
“Yes, sir.” The navigator looked to his left as he reached for his controls.
“Hold that order,” said Chubs.
The navigator stopped moving. Lem was shocked. Chubs had just challenged Lem’s authority in front of a member of the crew. The navigator didn’t move. He was either so stunned by Chubs’s insubordination that he was too shocked to fulfill Lem’s orders, or he was actually following Chubs’s orders over Lem’s.
Chubs waved his hand through the holospace, and the navigator disappeared. “You can’t do this, Lem.”
“I am the captain of this ship. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”
“You don’t understand, Lem. I can’t let you do this.”
Chubs’s expression was calm and his tone polite, but the implication was clear. He was claiming to have more authority. He was completely undermining Lem’s position as captain. It was total insubordination, if not outright mutiny. Lem opened the door and waved two crewmen inside. When they entered, he gestured to Chubs. “This man is removed from office. He is to be confined to quarters for the reminder of this flight. I want him off this helm.”
The two crewmen looked sheepish and didn’t move.
“Is there something unclear about those orders?” said Lem. “Place this man under house arrest.”
There was an awkward silence. The two crewmen glanced at one another and then looked at Chubs, as if waiting for him to give them orders.
Lem suddenly understood. He wasn’t actually the person in charge. He had never been in charge. Not for one minute of the expedition. Chubs was the real captain. And everyone knew it but Lem.
“You don’t actually have the authority to remove me, Lem,” Chubs said kindly. “Your father was afraid that we might get in a tough situation, and he gave me the authority to override any decision that might put you in physical danger. And in my judgment, what you’re proposing puts you in danger, so we won’t do it.”
His tone was polite but final.
Lem turned to the two crewmen, who averted their eyes, embarrassed.
Lem laughed inside. This whole trip had been a charade. His entire assignment: serving as captain, overseeing the field tests, safeguarding the glaser. It was all one of Father’s games. Father hadn’t given him any authority. Father hadn’t trusted him. He had merely allowed Lem to foolishly play pretend. All because Father didn’t think Lem intelligent enough to make his own decisions and command his own destiny.
“I’ve been in danger this whole trip,” said Lem. “That never stopped you before.”
“You were never in danger during the bump,” said Chubs. “And Weigh Station Four caught me off guard. I made a mistake by agreeing to join El Cavador. Had I known then what we know now, I never would have allowed it. Your father will have my head for that. I’m not making that mistake again.”
Lem smiled. “Well, I appreciate now knowing the real situation.”
“We’ll take the parabola route,” said Chubs. “And we will issue these orders in your name, so that no one will know that there’s been any interference in your authority. This will be treated as if it were your decision.”
“Thank you,” said Lem, without a hint of sarcasm. “That’s very thoughtful.” He wasn’t going to act like a petulant child. He wasn’t even angry with them. They were merely doing their jobs.
“And for what it’s worth,” said Chubs, “I think your course of action is better than what we’re actually doing. We’ll burn a lot of fuel changing course li
ke this. We have the fuel, yes, but doing this will deplete nearly all of our reserves. We’ll still make it to Luna, but we won’t be able to deviate course again. We’ll be coasting into home. So if it were up to me, we’d plow ahead and take the risk. But it’s not up to me. It’s not my ship.”
“It’s not my ship, either,” said Lem.
Chubs nodded. They understood each other.
Lem excused the men and stayed behind in the conference room, standing at the window. Soon the canvas of stars in front of him rotated slightly as the ship changed course. There would be a fight at Kleopatra, Lem knew. Or a slaughter, more likely. Lem didn’t believe he could have saved all of the ships, but he was certain he could have saved a few. It would have been a simple matter of convincing them to flee—which wouldn’t have been that tough of an argument to make, really. Instead, he was cutting them loose and running away, just as he done to Podolski and El Cavador and his own men.
I am your puppet, Father. Even when you’re billions of klicks away.
He realized then that there was no one on the ship he could trust. In fact, as long as he worked for Father, he could never trust anyone else under Father’s employ. Father would go to any length and use any person to keep Lem under his control. Ah, Father. Such irony. You probably actually think you’re being a loving, protective parent.
Lem looked at his reflection in the glass and straightened his jacket.
This is war, Father. I will never be free of you as long as you own this company and I am under your employ. I am done playing your little life lessons. It’s time I taught you a few of my own.
CHAPTER 24
Data Cube
By now, Victor was convinced that everyone in the rehabilitation center thought he was insane. The nurses and orderlies all treated him kindly, but the moment he started talking about hormigas and aliens and the interference in space, they all put on that false smile that said, “Yes, yes. I’m listening to every word you say, Vico, and I believe you.” Which was a lie. If they believed him, they would do something. They would give him back his belongings and send him to someone who could help: a government official, the press, the military, anyone who would take him seriously and help him get a warning to Earth. Instead, the staff all nodded and smiled and treated him like a head case as they wheeled him to his various physical therapy sessions and shot him with meds that were supposed to help rebuild muscle mass.
So when they told him someone from the Lunar Trade Department was coming to speak with him about his case, Victor allowed himself to hope. Finally. Someone with some authority who can actually help.
Then they wheeled him into the room where the woman was waiting, and all of Victor’s hope went right out the window. She was way too young. Not much older than him, probably. Either an intern or barely out of college. A nobody in the professional sense.
“Hello, Victor. I’m Imala Bootstamp.”
“Who’s your boss?” Victor asked.
The question caught her off guard. “My boss?”
“The person you report to. Your superior. It’s a simple question.”
“Why is that relevant?”
“It’s absolutely relevant because that is the person I need to be talking to. Actually, I need to be speaking to your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss. But since you probably don’t have access to that person, I’ll start with your boss and we’ll work our way up.”
She smiled, sat back in her chair, and looked around her. “This seems like a nice facility. They’re taking good care of you?”
“The bed is comfortable, but I’m a prisoner. The two kind of cancel each other out.”
She nodded. “Seems clean at least.”
They were sitting alone in a stark white room with a glass wall and ceiling, affording them a view of the city and the ship traffic high overhead.
“Haven’t you been here before?” asked Victor “You work with the LTD. You’re a caseworker. All injured immigrants come here. Are you telling me you’ve never actually done this job before?”
“Let’s say I’m new,” she said.
He could tell he was annoying her. He didn’t care.
“Incidentally,” Victor said, “do you actually know who your boss is? Because you seemed rather unsure when I asked a second ago.”
“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions.”
“Are you unsure of that, too?”
She forced a smile. “All right, Victor. If we’re going to be perfectly honest with each other, no, I don’t know who my boss is. I got this assignment about twenty minutes ago from someone who doesn’t even work in Customs. So he’s technically not my boss. I haven’t even been to the Customs offices yet. I came directly here from my previous job. So I don’t even have a computer terminal or a desk or a mail account yet. If the door was locked, I couldn’t get in the building because I don’t yet have an access ring. Fair enough? That’s my résumé.”
“Wow,” said Victor. “I can’t tell you how much confidence that instills in me to know that my assigned caseworker, the person responsible for getting me out of here, is so deeply experienced in the field. Boy am I going to sleep well tonight.”
“You’re welcome to file an appeal and request a new caseworker, but you should know that there’s a three-week turnaround. Don’t expect a new person to walk in here tomorrow.”
He leaned forward. “Look, Ms. Bootstamp—”
“Call me Imala.”
“Fine. Imala. I’m sure you’re a nice person. And I’m not normally a jerk, but you are not the answer to my problem. You are so far removed from the answer to my problem that you and I shouldn’t even be talking. I wish you well in your new job, but the best way for you to help me is to find out who your boss is and to bring me that person. Make sense?”
She was quiet a moment. Then she smiled again. “You broke the law, Victor. Maybe that hasn’t been explained to you clearly enough, but you entered lunar gravity in a manned spacecraft without clearance or authorization. A rather serious offense. You also illegally disrupted a government flight-control frequency. Another serious offense.”
“I didn’t know it was a restricted frequency. I was trying to—”
“I’m not finished,” she said. “You also have no passport, no birth certificate, no proof of identity, no right whatsoever to be on this moon. You may have broken these laws in ignorance, but the law doesn’t care. My job is to review the law with you and hear your case to see if your situation warrants legal leniency based on extenuating circumstances beyond your control. These are defined as potential loss of life and potential property damage of a ‘significant’ value. You may not like the fact that I’m new and inexperienced. But I am the person assigned to your case. This is my job and I’m going to do it. Now, you obviously think I’m stupid. And apparently you have no social skills because you’re unable to conceal the fact that you think I’m stupid. But here’s the thing, I’m not actually stupid. I know how this world works. You don’t. I know trade and customs law. You don’t. I know what’s necessary to get you freed. You don’t. So you can make demands until you’re purple in the face, but you will never see anyone above me until I say so. And right now I don’t say so. As far as I’m concerned, you have two options: You can submit to my questions and possibly let me help you. Or you can sit in your room until your grace period expires and the judge plops you on a shuttle back to wherever it was you came from. Your choice. When I come back tomorrow, you can give me your answer.”
She got up. And without waiting for him to respond, she was out the door and gone.
Great, thought Victor. It’s not enough that I have a nobody. She has to be a snooty nobody. He sighed. He wasn’t helping the situation. And now another precious day was wasted.
He was waiting for her the following day in the same room.
“I obviously can’t go above you without going through you,” said Victor. “So let’s do this your way. And let me preface this by saying, everything I am
about to tell you can be proven. I have evidence. It’s all on my data cube, which the staff locked away with all my other belongings when I got here. Should you want more evidence, I can tell you exactly where to look to verify its veracity for yourself. Fair enough?”
“Works for me,” said Imala.
“You’ve heard about the interference in space scrambling all transmissions?”
“Every day on the news.”
“Well, I know what’s causing that interference. And if you can get my data cube, I’ll show you.”
She was gone for ten minutes. When she returned she had a clear bag with all of Victor’s personal items. He took out the data cube, placed it on the table, and turned it on, creating a holospace in the air above it.
“The interference is being caused by a near-lightspeed alien starship on a direct course to Earth.”
“An alien ship?”
“That’s right.”
“Coming to Earth?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I see.”
“I know that sounds insane to you. I know you think I’m insane. But my family put me on a quickship from the Kuiper Belt. Eight billion klicks from here. I was on that ship for nearly eight months. There was a very good chance that I wouldn’t make it to Luna alive. And if you know anything about free-miner families, you know we simply don’t do that. We protect our own. Family first. And if you don’t know anything about free miners, then why do you have this job?”
“I didn’t say you were insane.”
“You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face. And frankly I can’t afford that. I need you to have an open mind and look at this evidence without having dismissed it beforehand. I don’t care what you think of me. I only care that the information I have gets to everyone on Luna and Earth. That won’t happen if we do this with you trying to disprove it.”
“I told you I would listen, Victor.”
“Listening isn’t enough. You need to have an open mind. If you play bureaucrat and worry about how this will affect your standing with that new boss of yours, you’ll only find excuses to bury it.”