“Exactly,” said Toron. “We don’t know. That’s why we should be prudent, not rash. I propose we put it to a general vote.”
“I second that,” said Father.
Concepcion looked at the crowd. “Objections?”
There were none.
“Very well,” said Concepcion. “All those who agree with sending out a blanket transmission immediately.”
A third of the room raised their hand, including Mother, Father, and Marco. Edimar raised her hand as well, but a withering look from her father made her put it down again. Victor kept his hand down since he wasn’t a member of the Council. Concepcion took a visible count, nodded, and said, “All those who feel we should inform only the Italians and Juke ship at this point.”
The remaining hands in the room went up, a much larger portion of people. Toron allowed himself a small, triumphant smile.
They were going to do nothing, Victor realized. Nothing immediate anyway, nothing significant, nothing that would ensure their safety in the coming months. They would send out two messages, and then they would sit and wait and hopefully learn something new.
Victor wasn’t going to wait with them. He couldn’t control when and how the family warned others, but he could control the mechanical functionality of the ship. He could make improvements to the ship’s defenses and weapons. He didn’t need Council approval for that.
The meeting was breaking up. People were dispersing.
“You tried, Vico,” said Mother. “I’m proud of you for that.”
“Thank you, Mother.” He turned to Father. “We should focus on the pebble-killers first.”
“Agreed,” said Father, already tapping a command into his handheld. “I’ll wake up Mono.”
Victor knew he wouldn’t have to explain himself to Father. It was obvious what they needed to do. They had to find a way to make the pebble-killers more powerful and lethal. With the whole ship helping, the work would have gone much faster, but now it was going to be just the three of them. Victor hurried from the room. Toron and others would probably think that his quick departure was that of a pouting teenager who had lost an argument, but Victor didn’t care. Let them think what they wanted. He had work to do.
CHAPTER 5
Benyawe
Lem was in his office with the lights out, watching a holo simulation of asteroid 2002GJ166 being hit with the glaser. It was a simple holo sim. Only ten seconds long. But the engineers who had put it together had spent three days building it. Every detail of the asteroid had been meticulously re-created. The engineers had even gone so far as to painstakingly re-create the mineshaft the free miners had cut into the rock. In all aspects it was identical to the real thing, albeit a thousand times smaller. At first, nothing happened. Then, as the glaser hit it, the asteroid exploded, sending thousands of rock fragments shooting outward in every direction like a giant growing sphere of gravel. Soon the pieces of the sphere became so far apart that the sphere lost any semblance of shape and all that was left was empty space. The holo sim winked out. Lem turned to Dr. Dublin and Dr. Benyawe, who were standing beside his desk patiently waiting for his reaction. “It’s completely obliterated,” said Lem. “How am I supposed to mine an obliterated asteroid?”
The Makarhu was less than a day away from the real asteroid. Chubs’s “Red Light Green Light” approach had worked flawlessly for nine days. El Cavador was oblivious. The free miners had shown no sign of knowing another ship was approaching their position. No threatening radio messages, no warning shots, nothing. Either they were exceptionally good at playing dumb, or they were in for the surprise of their life.
Now, however, the engineers were telling Lem through a holo sim that it didn’t matter anyway, because the glaser was going to annihilate the asteroid and leave them empty-handed. “This is unacceptable,” said Lem. “There’s nothing left of the asteroid.”
“Our math could be off,” said Dublin. “We’ve never fired the glaser at an object this big before. The simulation only runs the data we give it, and we don’t have a lot of data. Much of this is conjecture.”
“Then what’s the point of building a simulation?” said Lem. “You’re showing me what might happen? I can do that myself. I have a pretty decent imagination. Forgive me for being blunt, Dr. Dublin, but guesswork doesn’t help us here. I need facts. What you’re showing me are half facts. And to be perfectly honest, not the half facts I want to see. The glaser is a mining tool. We’re in the business of extracting minerals. What you’re showing me is skeet shooting. I don’t care if you blow up the asteroid, but sending millions of pieces hurtling away in every direction is not going to work. Miners can’t chase down rock fragments all day. The glaser is supposed to expedite the mining process, not complicate it. I can tolerate this reaction with pebbles, but not with big rocks. That isn’t what the Board had in mind.”
“You don’t want guesswork, Lem,” said Benyawe, “but guesswork is mostly what we have. We haven’t done enough field tests to predict with a high degree of accuracy what exactly is going to happen. That is why the mission was designed the way it was, with us conducting many tests using gradually larger asteroids.”
Lem shook his head. “The original plan is gone. We’re seven weeks behind schedule. We have a new plan now, one we’ve been following for nine days. I agree that our original plan is the ideal, but circumstances have changed.”
“Then all we can show you are possibilities,” said Benyawe, “nothing definitive. We won’t know that until we blast the real thing. We can try to minimize the gravity field more, and that might lessen the explosion, but we cannot predict how far the field will spread.”
Lem rubbed his eyes, exhausted. It hadn’t been a very pleasant nine days. And another round of “data talk” with the engineers wasn’t helping. Part of the problem was the lighting-or rather, the lack thereof. Per Chubs’s instructions, Lem had ordered the ship to “go dark” when they had set out for the asteroid. This meant turning off all exterior and most interior lights in order to remain invisible from El Cavador’s light-sensitive sky scanner. Lem had expected this to be a challenge. Moving around the ship in near darkness would take some getting used to. What he hadn’t anticipated was how the lack of light had put everyone in an irritated, cheerless mood. Normally Lem could move through the halls of the ship and hear laughter and friendly conversation. These days the halls were as silent as they were dark.
Even more annoying was the constant stopping and starting of the ship. To sneak up undetected, the Makarhu remained motionless when they were exposed to El Cavador’s side of the asteroid, then the ship rushed forward whenever El Cavador was on the far side. Stopping. Starting. Stopping. Starting. It made sleep next to impossible, and Lem’s body felt anxious and fatigued because of it.
“You’re right,” said Lem. “I’m asking for the impossible. I’m asking you to tell me what will happen without allowing you to gather the data to formulate an answer. That’s not fair. I realize that. But we are at the eleventh hour, and we have one shot at this. I’m only asking that we do all we can to make that one shot work.”
Dublin began gathering his things. “We’ll see what we can do, Mr. Jukes.”
“I have full confidence in you,” said Lem.
Dublin launched himself toward the exit, but Benyawe stayed behind.
“May I have a word, Lem?” she asked.
“You may have a hundred, Dr. Benyawe. It will keep me awake.”
“I have remained silent on this issue since we set out for this asteroid,” said Benyawe, “but if I don’t say something now, before we get there, I’ll be disappointed in myself.”
Lem knew where this was going. As he had expected, the decision to bump the free miners was unpopular with the engineers. Their world was black or white. An experiment failed or it didn’t. Data was right or it wasn’t. The prototype worked or it didn’t. The idea of a gray area, wherein it was acceptable under certain circumstances to take a dig site by force, was hard for an engineer to swallow. They all knew that Juke Limited was involved in unsavory business practices, but it was much easier to turn a blind eye to such things from the safe and cozy rooms of one’s lab back on Luna. Out here in the deep of space, the hard truth of it stared you in the face.
Lem held up a hand. “If you’re going to tell me you think bumping these free miners is morally wrong, save
