like,” said Benyawe. “The gravity field was obviously too wide and too powerful. We still have adjustments to make.” She looked at Lem. “Dublin’s hesitations were not without reason, Lem. The glaser creates a field of centrifugal gravity, a field where gravity stops holding mass together because it all aligns with the glaser. It creates a field through the continuity of mass. The field spreads with the explosion of the mass, then it keeps destroying until the mass is so dispersed that it no longer works as a unit of mass. The question we have to answer is, How far does the field persist in relation to the mass? Do bigger asteroids generate a wider field? And would that field stretch far enough to reach the ship? We better hope not, because if it did, the same thing that happened to that pebble would happen to us.”
“The field seemed contained to me,” said Lem.
“On a rock this size, yes,” said Benyawe. “But what about a bigger mass? That’s why we need to continue testing, choosing targets that are incrementally larger than the previous test subjects.”
Lem didn’t want to wait. He wanted to send a very clear message to Father now. One that showed Father how free and clear Lem was from Father’s manipulations. If Father thought he could control Lem with the pebbles, then Lem would go to the opposite extreme. Right to the big leagues.
“In an ideal world,” Lem said, “yes, we would inch our way up to bigger asteroids. But this test just proved that Dublin was unnecessarily cautious. I say we move directly to a rock a hundred times the size of that pebble.”
“Your Father wouldn’t agree with that.”
Which is precisely why we’re going to do it, Lem wanted to say but didn’t. “My father’s assignment to me was to prove that the glaser could be a safe and effective mining tool. He wants to operationalize this as soon as possible. Juke ships will be mining big rocks, not pebbles.”
Benyawe shrugged. “As long as you know the risks.”
“You’ve been very clear. I’ll find our next target while you and Dublin prepare a brief yet thorough report for my father and the Board. Text only. Send the video in a subsequent message. I want them to receive the good news as soon as possible.” Lem knew that laserline messages with a lot of memory moved slowly through the company’s data receivers. If he wanted to get a message to Father fast, a brief text message was best.
Lem climbed into the push tube, adjusted his vambraces, and gave the command for the magnets to propel him to the helm. Of all the rooms on Makarhu, the helm had been the most difficult for Lem to get used to. Shaped like a cylinder, with the flight crew positioned all along the inner circular wall, the helm could be a little dizzying. As you entered the room at one end, there were crewmen all around you-above, below, left and right, all standing at their workstations with their feet held securely to the wall with greaves. In the center of the room was a spherical system chart, a large hologram surrounded by projectors. A small hologram of the ship was at the sphere’s center, and as the ship moved, so did the celestial objects in space around it, keeping the holo of the ship forever in the center. Lem launched himself to the system chart and came to rest beside his chief officer, an American named Chubs.
“Nice shooting,” said Chubs. “We can officially erase that pebble from the system chart.”
“We need a new target,” said Lem. “A hundred times the size of that pebble. Preferably close and rich in minerals.”
Chubs took his stylus from the front pocket of his body suit. “That’s easy.” He selected an asteroid on the system chart down near the ship and enlarged it so it filled the chart. “It’s called 2002GJ166. It’s not Asteroid Belt big, but it’s big for out here.”
“How far away?” asked Lem.
“Four days,” said Chubs.
Considering that this was the Kuiper Belt and that most big objects were usually months apart from each other, that was ridiculously close. “Sounds perfect,” said Lem.
Chubs looked hesitant. “Actually, not perfect. Not if you want to blow it up with the glaser.”
“Why?”
“We keep a constant watch of movement around us,” said Chubs. “Our boys here know where all the other mining ships are in the vicinity. Your father was very particular about us conducting these field tests far from the snooping eyes of WU-HU or MineTek or any other competitor. So if somebody is nearby, we make it our business to know about it. And this asteroid, 2002GJ166, is currently occupied.”
“Someone’s mining it?”
Chubs made a few movements with his stylus. The asteroid minimized, and a holo of a mining ship appeared. “A free-miner family. Not a big clan. Just a single ship. It’s called El Cavador. According to the files we have from the Lunar Trade Department, they’re a Venezuelan family. Their captain is a seventy-four-year-old woman named Concepcion Querales. And the ship isn’t any younger. It’s probably been patched up so many times over it looks like space junk at this point. It comfortably holds sixty people, but knowing free miners, they probably have closer to eighty or ninety people on board.”
“We can’t conduct the test if they’re there,” said Lem.
“I’m sure they would appreciate not being blown to smithereens,” said Chubs. “But don’t expect them to pack up and leave any time soon. They’ve been at the rock for a few weeks now building mineshafts. They have a lot of time and money invested in this dig site. And it’s paying off for them. They’ve already sent two loads in quickships back to Luna.”
Quickships weren’t really ships at all. They were rocket-propelled projectiles that carried a mining family’s processed metals all the way to Luna. The rockets were for maneuvering, and built-in sponders constantly broadcast the quickship’s location, trajectory, destination, and the name of the family. The family ID was always embedded deep within the quickship so it couldn’t be pirated. But pirates had little chance of catching quickships anyway. They moved incredibly fast, far faster than any manned vessel could match. Once the quickships got close to Luna, they turned themselves over to Lunar Guidance, or LUG, where they got “lugged” into Lunar orbit for pickup and delivery.
“If we did wait for them to leave,” said Lem, “about how long are we talking? A week? A year?”
“Impossible to say,” said Chubs. “Juke hasn’t done a lot of scans of rocks out this far. We typically stick to the Asteroid Belt. I have no idea how much metal they’re sitting on. Could be a month. Could be eight months.”
“What’s the next closest asteroid?” asked Lem.
Chubs turned back to the chart and began digging around again. “If you’re in a hurry, you won’t like the answer. The next nearest rock is four months, sixteen days away. And that’s four months in the wrong direction, farther out into deep space. So it would be four months out and four months back, just to return to this spot.”
“Eight months. Way too long.”
Chubs shrugged. “That’s the Kuiper Belt, Lem. Space and more space.”
Lem stared at the chart. They needed to take the closer asteroid. And the sooner the better. Lem didn’t want the miners taking all the metals. The point was to show the Board the economic viability of the glaser. Lem didn’t intend to obliterate the rock. He was going to break it up, collect whatever metals he could, sell the haul, and slap the asset statement onto the center of the boardroom table back on Luna.
But how do you vacate free miners from a profitable mine? He couldn’t pay them, which, as a man of wealth, had always been his default strategy for anything. The free miners were sitting on their source of income, possibly a long-standing source of income. They wouldn’t want to give it up. Which meant the only real option was to take it by force.
“What if we bump them?” asked Lem.
Lem had never witnessed the practice himself, but he knew that it existed. “Bumping” was a corporate technique, though not one you would find documented by any corporation. It was the asteroid version of claim jumping. Corporate ships snuck in on dig sites operated by free miners and chased the free miners away. They were coordinated attacks that required a lot of tech, but they worked. Free miners were rarely strong enough to defend themselves, and if you timed the attack right, the mineshafts would already be dug. So the free miners did most of the work, but the corporates reaped all of the benefits. It was devious, yes, and Lem didn’t relish the thought of doing it, but an eight-month trip to the second-closest asteroid was simply not an option. Besides, if rumors were true, Father had done a good bit of bumping in his early days, which would suggest that he could hardly object if Lem did it, too-as long as it didn’t become public.
Chubs raised an eyebrow. “You serious, Lem? You want to bump them?”
