Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

by Orson Scott Card

  “Felix Montroose, Mr. Jukes. At your service. Welcome to Last Chance.”

  “The price we settled on over laserline will have to be renegotiated,” said Lem.

  Felix’s face fell a little, though to his credit, he tried hard not to show it. “Oh? How do you mean, sir?”

  “I mean I’m not paying you what I told you before. I was expecting a nicer establishment.” He gestured to the room. “No offense, but I don’t exactly feel safe here.”

  Felix smiled. “Oh, I assure you, Mr. Jukes. Last Chance is one of the most structurally sound outposts this side of the Belt. She was built in the early days, you know, back when ships were made by hand.”

  “Yes, and she should be dismantled by hand. I’ll give you half of our original price.”

  Felix gave a sharp intake of breath and put a hand to his chest, aghast.

  Lem suppressed a smile. He wasn’t even sure why he was being a stickler about the money. It was hardly a large amount. Lem’s investments had likely made that much in the time it had taken him and Chubs to dock the shuttle from their ship.

  Yet Lem also hated it when people thought they could take advantage of him. It was silly, he knew, but he had always carried the belief that people assumed he was a less intelligent, weaker shadow of his father. And as such, he would be easy prey in a transaction. It made Lem more than a little shrewd. At the negotiation table he was downright deplorable, showing far less mercy even than Father at times. But it also made him a brilliant businessman and was largely the reason he had amassed such a large fortune independent of Father.

  “That strikes me as most dishonest, sir,” said Felix. “We had an arranged amount. We agreed upon the terms. I’ve ordered all other patrons off the depot to give you the privacy you requested. I will not settle for anything less than the predetermined sum.”

  “And I will not settle for anything less than a decent establishment. I suppose that puts us at an impasse. Good day to you, Mr. Montroose.”

  Lem turned on his heels and made as if to launch for the docking airlock.

  “Wait,” said Montroose. “Surely we can reach an agreeable amount. I remind you that we are the only laserline link with Luna. You can’t get a message through any other way.”

  “My message isn’t critical. I’m on my way to Luna now. I can wait to deliver it in person. Besides, from the reports I’ve heard in the Belt, your bucket-brigade system isn’t as foolproof as you implied. I should expect heavy data deterioration.”

  Felix waffled then, seeing his sale slip away. He and Lem argued for a moment on the price, and when they finally agreed, Felix dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief, as if he had just surfaced from a feverish bout with an enemy, which, Lem supposed, he had.

  “And I have your absolute assertion that the ships in your bucket brigade will relay my conversation with Luna as promised?” said Lem. “I don’t want my messages held hostage, Mr. Montroose. I assure you that a legal battle with Juke Limited attorneys would result in you losing everything, including your personal freedom as a result of the criminal charges they would place against you.”

  Montroose swallowed and checked his watch, as if this whole affair couldn’t end soon enough.

  Lem tapped the amount into his wrist pad and held out his hand. Felix extended his own, and the two bumped pads. There was a transaction sound, and then Lem smiled. “Now, Mr. Montroose, I would appreciate you escorting me to your laserline transmitter.”

  Montroose began leading them to the far side of the room toward another corridor.

  “Murderer!”

  There was shouting behind them. Lem turned. A man and two women were approaching from the opposite entryway. One of the women looked at a loss, as if she had tried to stop the other two, but failed. The man was hardly a man at all, now that Lem got a look at him. Seventeen, maybe, if that. And by the look of his clothes, Lem pegged him as a free miner. Great. More grievances. Another angry rock sucker wronged by Juke employees. Lem was tired of this business. Every pebble picker who heard he was Lem Jukes always came rushing to complain as if it had been his personal fault. Must he bear the burden of every act committed by his father’s men?

  The boy was coming fast, but Lem didn’t flinch. He didn’t have to. The gun was in Chubs’s hand before the boy had crossed half the room. The boy saw it and caught himself on a handhold near the ceiling. His body swung forward with the momentum and then he righted himself, his eyes boring straight into Lem. The two women stopped beside him.

  Lem smiled at the boy, amused. “My goodness, but you are angry.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Montroose,” said one of the women. “I tried to get these two back to their shuttle, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Felix, facing the boy. “Get out of here! You’ve been asked to leave.”

  The boy never took his eyes off Lem. “I paid to be here.”

  “And your money will be returned.” He waved his arms, as if shooing off a wild animal. “Now get out. Both of you. Leave Mr. Jukes alone.”

  The boy spoke directly to Lem. His voice was calm, but there was steel behind it. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember me, Lem. I doubt you got a good look at my face before you hit me.”

  Lem suddenly felt uneasy. There was something about this situation that didn’t sit well. “Mr. Montroose, will you and your employee please excuse us?”

  Felix looked at Lem with surprise. “Are you sure, Mr. Jukes? I can have this boy thrown out.”

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. Some privacy is all we need.”

  Felix looked unsure, then motioned for the woman to follow him. They went out the way the boy had come in and sealed the door behind them.

  Lem regarded the boy and the woman with him. They were an odd pair. The woman was a few years older, though still quite young, midtwenties maybe, and ethnic, perhaps Native American. The boy was a Belter, no question.

  “You clearly know who I am,” said Lem. “But I don’t have the pleasure of knowing you.”

  The boy just stared, seething.

  “I’m Imala,” said the woman. “Imala Bootstamp. This is Victor Delgado.”

  The names meant nothing to Lem. “Victor, I think you may have me confused with someone else. I don’t hit people. Not in my nature. I don’t even know how to throw a punch.”

  “Not with your hand. With your ship. Asteroid 2002GJ166. Kuiper Belt. Ten months or so ago. You killed a man. This ringing a bell?”

  Lem felt the blood drain from his face.

  “You killed Marco. He was my uncle. He had a wife and children.”

  Lem’s mind was racing. He wanted to believe that this was blackmail somehow, that someone had heard about the bump with El Cavador, and that they were now trying to take Lem for money by acting like a member of the crew. Lem wished that were the case. Blackmailers he could handle. Chubs might even have a special treatment for them.

  But he knew it wasn’t true. The kid wasn’t lying. Lem could spot a dishonest person in a blink.

  But how was that possible? Lem had seen El Cavador destroyed. Every man on El Cavador had died in the assault on the Formic ship. Lem had watched it happen. The women and children had been placed on the WU-HU ship, but this kid wouldn’t have gone with them. He was too old. He would have stayed with the men. He was a man. He would have joined in the assault.

  And then Lem remembered. “You’re the one they sent. The one who was supposed to warn Earth.” Lem had dropped the suave exterior. Now he was panicked. “What the hell are you doing here? You should be on Luna or Earth. You should be telling them what we know, sharing the evidence. Why didn’t you push on?”

  The boy stared at him, confused now, his anger evaporated. “How do you know my family sent me?”

  “Because they told me. They told me they sent you in a quickship. I didn’t expect you to survive, quite frankly. I figured you were a lost cause. But you obviously made it. You shouldn’t be here, though.
You should be home. You should’ve gone to my father.”

  “We did,” said Imala. “We saw your father. Victor’s evidence is why Ukko made the announcement.”

  Lem felt as if a hundred things were bouncing around in his head at once. “What announcement? What are you talking about?”

  “That the alien ship was coming,” said Imala. “It was your father who told the world and alerted STASA.”

  Of course, thought Lem. Father would pounce on something like this. It was the perfect opportunity to paint himself the hero and tout the company’s strength. Lem could almost picture Father all over the news feeds, humbly offering up all of Juke’s resources to “protect Earth from harm.”

  “When did my family tell you about me?” Victor said.

  It was then that Lem realized that Victor knew nothing about what had happened, which should have been immediately obvious to Lem. Of course Victor didn’t know. How could he? He had left before El Cavador contacted Lem, before the attack on the Formic ship, before …

  He looked at Victor. Logic said not to tell him. Victor was a loose end. He was a witness to Lem’s attack on El Cavador. And not only that, but he had also been directly assaulted. He was the person Lem had rammed with the ship right before they had stopped. That set off a whirlwind of legal alarms inside Lem’s head. Victor was every corporate lawyer’s nightmare. And what was worse, Victor sounded as if he were already an international figure. He had brought the warning to Earth. There was notoriety there, which would skyrocket any legal issues to the forefront of the news. The fallout would be enormous. In corporate terms, cataclysmic. It was all of Lem’s buried fears risen from the grave.

  He knew how Father would handle it. Lem had never heard of his father ending someone’s life, but that was probably because Father was too smart to ever reveal his intentions to do such a thing. That didn’t mean Father wouldn’t do it. In fact, it was far more likely that Father had. You don’t get to a position like his without cracking a few eggs. And Lem had to admit he saw the logic of it. There wasn’t a more absolute and final resolution to a problem. Stop the heart of the problem, the physical beating organ, and you’ve stopped the problem, too.

  Only here it would be messy. There were two of them. And this was a public place.

  Lem pushed the thought away. I am not my father, he told himself. Not now, not ever.

  He squared his shoulders and faced Victor. “Your family contacted me after you left. They were heading to Weigh Station Four when it was destroyed by the Formics.”

  “Formics?” said Imala.

  “The name we’ve given the aliens,” said Lem.

  “Are they all right?” said Victor, his voice almost frantic. “My family, I mean. Were they hurt?”

  “They asked us to join them in an assault on the Formic ship. Us and a third ship, a WU-HU vessel.”

  Victor’s face was grave, as if he knew what was coming.

  “The women and children from El Cavador were placed on the WU-HU ship, which stayed out of the fight. The men and Concepción manned El Cavador. We tried to plant explosives on the Formics’ hull, but one went off prematurely. It ripped through the hull, and the Formics came pouring out. I lost twenty-five men. El Cavador was destroyed. We barely got out with our lives. I don’t know what happened to the WU-HU vessel. I’m pretty sure they were at a safe distance, but there was too much interference. We lost contact with them. I’m sorry.”

  Victor stared. All the life seemed to have drained out of him. His hands were trembling. If he weren’t already floating in zero-G, Lem doubted Victor would’ve stayed on his feet. Imala put an arm around him, and Victor buried his face in his hands.

  Lem moved for the door. He needed to get out. He was invading privacy now. Chubs followed. Outside they found Felix alone in the corridor, waiting.

  “To your transmitter, Mr. Montroose,” said Lem. “And this time, let’s get there without interruption.”

  * * *

  There were a few technicians in the comms room, which was impressive considering it was the size of a closet. They all hovered at different orientations around the transmission equipment so as to maximize space. “These men are at your service, Mr. Jukes,” said Montroose.

  “Tell them to leave,” said Lem.

  Felix blushed. “Of course.” He shooed the men out then turned back to Lem. “I take it you’re familiar with this type of equipment then.”

  Lem looked at everything with distaste. Some of the panels were as old as he was. He had wanted to do the transmission from Makarhu, his own ship, but Felix had insisted that that wouldn’t be possible. All of the ships in the bucket brigade were using “closed-circuit transmitters” and the messages would have to be sent from here.

  It was probably a lie, of course. Felix had merely wanted Lem here as an assurance of getting paid.

  “We’ll manage,” said Lem. “Assuming your equipment doesn’t catch fire.”

  Felix laughed until he realized it hadn’t been intended as a joke. He cleared his throat and said, “The bucket brigade is standing by, Mr. Jukes. They will relay whatever message you send. I’ve given them strict instructions not to read the text or try to correct any deterioration.”

  “They can’t read it,” said Lem. “It will be encrypted.”

  “Oh,” said Felix. “Of course. Shall I leave you then?”

  “Please.”

  Felix bowed and backed out the door. Chubs was already setting up the encryption equipment, attaching it to the necessary panels. Then he got out a sniffer wand and passed it around the room.

  “It’s clean,” he said.

  So no one was eavesdropping. Lem nodded, and Chubs went out into the hall to keep Montroose from snooping.

  Lem entered the coordinates and commands that would send the message from Luna’s receiver into an encrypted relay system that went directly to Father’s handheld. It would be a tedious process. There would be a lot of lag time. Lem would send three copies of each message, so that if data was lost by one, it would be filled in by the second or third transmission, hopefully making the messages appear seamless. Then Father would dictate a reply, and the process would go in reverse. If this actually worked, Lem was going to be here a while. He spoke into the dictation device, starting small.

  “Father, it’s Lem.”

  An hour later he received a reply. It came faster than he expected. THANK GOD!! I’VE BEEN WORRIED SICK. WHERE ARE YOU?

  Lem read the words several times, and his heart lifted. Father had worried about him. Lem had known that of course. He knew Father would be concerned, but to hear, or rather read, those words made it more real somehow. He found it so surprising in fact, that he began to wonder if it was really Father on the other end. Maybe one of the ships along the chain had figured out the encryption and was impersonating Father in the hope of garnering valuable information. Lem decided to play it safe. He sent one word.

  “Apple.”

  “For crying out loud, Lem. It’s me. Your father. You’re using my encrypted line. You’re sending an encrypted message. You don’t have to use the stupid corporate code words for verification. Now you’ve wasted two damn hours, and you still haven’t answered my question. WHERE ARE YOU?!!”

  It was Father all right.

  For the next message Lem started talking and didn’t stop for forty minutes. The dictation software turned it all into a lengthy e-mail. He told Father how they had bumped El Cavador off the asteroid; how the bump had resulted in the death of a free miner; how they had successfully decimated the asteroid with the glaser; how they had encountered El Cavador again and conducted an assault on the Formic ship; how they had failed and lost men and rushed back toward Luna; how they had found evidence of the Battle of the Belt; how they were only a week away; how they had decelerated to the depot to make sure there was still a Luna to come home to. He didn’t tell Father everything, such as his struggles on the ship to keep authority.

  Any lingering doubt about it being Father
on the other end vanished when the reply came.

  “I’ve always known you to be an intelligent person, Lem, so I can’t for the life of me begin to understand what would compel you to do something so monumentally stupid, so enormously idiotic as bumping a free-miner ship off an asteroid. I don’t care that the next closest asteroid was four months away. I would much rather have you sit on your butt during an eight-month round-trip than have you risk damaging a piece of equipment worth several billion credits. What were you thinking? Did you not consider what such a violent jolt might have done to the glaser? Did it not cross your mind for a second that the glaser is more precious to this company than your time? It’s a prototype, Lem. One of a kind. For your sake, I hope it’s in perfect working condition. If it isn’t, you will have a hard time proving to our attorneys that your jolt isn’t responsible.”

  Lem shook his head. So like Father. No mention of the dead free miner. No congratulations for having conducted a successful test. No praise for having gone the extra mile and figuring out a way to extract the minerals from the debris cloud. No inquiry as to the safety of the crew. All Father worried about was his precious glaser.

  And then to have the gall to threaten Lem with legal action? All the bitterness and frustration he felt for Father began to well up inside him again.

  But then Lem reread the last sentence of the message and saw another meaning. Father might be insinuating that he didn’t have control over the legal team, that his grip on command of the company might be slipping. That gave Lem a small measure of delight. Lem still fully intended to seize the company, and any potential weakness in Father’s standing was welcome news.

  Another message from Father appeared.

  “I like the name ‘Formic,’ by the way. No one has given the species a name that sticks. Everyone keeps saying ‘aliens,’ which I’ve always thought is a ridiculous word. Formic I can get behind. A nice hard K sound at the end. And I like the connection with ants. Tell Benyawe we’re going with that. I’ll have it on the networks in the morning. As for the skirmish with the Formic ship, you did good. I’m glad you’re alive. Once again, it was astronomically stupid, but it demonstrated great courage. I’m sad it didn’t work. Had you stopped the ship, you could have prevented a lot of heartache and disaster. Thousands are dying in China. It’s surreal.”