Earth Afire (The First Formic War) (6 page)

Formics. The word still felt bitter and foreign in his mouth, like a large chalky tablet that he couldn’t force himself to swallow. Dr. Benyawe, the leader of the science team, had suggested the name because of the creatures’ antlike appearance, and as far as Lem was concerned it was as good a name as any. But he still hated it. The word gave the creatures legitimacy, an identity. It was a reminder that they were real, that this whole thing was not merely a dream.

“Nearly two years ago,” Lem continued, “we left loved ones on Luna and set out for the Kuiper Belt. Our mission was simple: test the gravity laser. Point it at a few rocks and blow them to dust, prove to headquarters that the glaser can and will revolutionize the mineral-extraction process. Thanks to your diligence and unwavering commitment, we completed that task. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t without mistakes and setbacks. But each of you persisted and did your duty. Each of you proved yourself. It has been my highest honor as your captain to serve beside you and watch you perform your tasks with such persistent exactness.”

Lem knew he was laying it on thick, but he also knew that no one would doubt his sincerity. Mother had always said that were he not the heir to the largest asteroid-mining fortune in the solar system, he could have had a career on the stage. Lem had found that amusing; Mother was always thinking so small. The stage was for the pretentious and unattractive, all those who didn’t have a face for the vids.

“But eight months ago our mission changed.” Lem tapped his wrist pad, and the system chart behind him winked to life. A holo of the Formic ship appeared large and imposing. “
This
became our mission. This abomination. No one gave us the order to stop it. We gave that order to ourselves.”

Technically, that was a half truth since it was the captain of the free-miner ship El Cavador who had asked Lem to help them stop the Formics. But what did that matter? Lem had accepted the invitation. No one had forced his hand.

He tapped his wrist pad again. The Formic ship vanished, and the faces of twenty-five men appeared. “Some of you may think that attacking the Formics was a mistake. We lost twenty-five of our crew, after all. Twenty-five good men. Twenty-five future husbands and fathers.”

A woman near the front wiped at her eyes. A good sign, Lem thought. His real purpose here was not the memorial service, after all. It was to retake command of the ship,
true
command, not to serve as captain in name only, but to have his orders followed, to hold absolute authority. To achieve that, he needed to stir up their emotions a bit.

“But I say attacking the Formics was not a mistake,” Lem continued. “Sending a message to them that we would rather die than see our world taken from us was not a mistake. Proving to Earth that we would do anything to protect her was not a mistake. Taking steps to save our families back on Luna and Earth was not a mistake.”

He could see he had them now. A few of them were nodding along.

“But then something changed,” said Lem. “We stopped focusing on Earth. After following the Formic ship closely, we pulled back. We retreated way out here to the ecliptic, a great distance from the Formics and thus a great distance from those we could have warned and saved.” He paused a moment and lowered his voice, as if it pained him to say the words.

“We knew more about the Formic ship than anyone. Its weapons capabilities, its speed, its likely destination. We had even calculated when and where it might emit its next burst of radiation. If we had stayed close to it, maybe we could’ve warned all those ships in its path.”

He tapped his wrist pad. The faces in the holo vanished, and a cloud of debris appeared in the holofield.

“Like these ships. The ships at Kleopatra, home to a Juke outpost and processing facility. Nearly eight thousand of our own people lived on that rock, plus however many people were in the ships around it. Most of them free-miner families. Women, children, infants, the elderly. We could have warned them. But we didn’t.”

More taps. More holos. More wreckage. One by one, Lem displayed scenes of destruction. One by one he recounted the lives lost. Most of the crew had already seen these images; the ship had collected them over the past few months as they tracked the Formic ship by following its path of destruction toward Earth.

Lem described what it must have been like to be on those ships, explaining how a blast of gamma plasma at close range would vaporize blood and bone. And how, at longer ranges, flesh burned and cells broke down as a result of radiation poisoning.

“And while
we
were hiding in the shadows,” he continued, “these people were fighting for Earth. While we retreated and protected
ourselves,
they faced the enemy, fighting for us, dying for us.”

A few of the crew shifted uncomfortably. He was hitting a nerve.

A part of Lem felt a touch guilty for manipulating them this way. It was tacky and opportunistic to use a memorial service for personal gain, but then again this was war, not only between humans and Formics but also between Lem and Father, the great and glorious Ukko Jukes.

It had been Father who had given Chubs the secret orders to monitor everything Lem did as captain and to override Lem’s orders should Lem do anything to put himself in danger, which made Chubs, in essence, a secret glorified babysitter.

Father would no doubt call this good parenting, looking out for his son, protecting him from the dangers of the Kuiper Belt. But Lem knew what was really at play here. Father was doing what he always did: asserting his control, pulling the strings, playing his little game of power, and making Lem look like the fool.

The whole thing had been especially humiliating since it was a year into the mission before Lem had realized that he wasn’t exactly in charge. Chubs had been a stand-up guy about the whole situation. He had meant no hard feelings. He had even gone out of his way to keep Lem from losing face with the crew by keeping the whole thing a secret. But that hadn’t taken the sting out of being made to look the fool. For a whole year, Lem had been convinced that Chubs was his most trusted adviser. And then surprise! I’m really working for your father, Lem, and no I won’t relay your order to the crew because I can’t allow you to make it. Sorry, your dear daddy said so.

Oh Father, you can’t help yourself, can you? You can’t stand the idea that I might actually accomplish something on my own without your involvement. You have to secretly insert yourself into my affairs. Sly, Father. Whatever the outcome, you win. If the mission fails, it’s all my fault, if it succeeds, it only succeeded because you were there helping me along.

The thought was like a rod of steel added to Lem’s spine. He was all the more convinced that he could never trust anyone on board and that the only way he would be free of Father was to beat Father at his own game, to take the company, to remove Father from his vaulted throne and politely show him the door.

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.