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 your breath. I feel the same way."
"You do?"
"Absolutely. It's cheating, basically. And bullying. Not to mention extremely dangerous."
"Then why are we doing it?"
"Because the alternative is an eight-month round-trip. If we go that far, we will seriously deplete our fuel supplies. Plus we have no guarantee that the farther asteroid will be any more vacant than this one. Who's to say there isn't a whole fleet of free miners moored to the other asteroid?"
"Those aren't our only options," said Benyawe. "We could proceed with the mission as planned. It's not too late for that. We look for more pebbles of gradually greater size and adjust the glaser as we go along. Free miners don't touch pebbles. This would be a nonissue."
"We have to do a big asteroid anyway," said Lem. "All we're doing is jumping ahead. It's unfortunate that we have to vacate the free miners, but that is the world we're living in now. Chubs assures me that we can do this with minimal structural damage to their ship and without harming any of their crew."
"It's not right. We're taking what's theirs."
"Technically, Doctor, it isn't theirs. They have no deed. No right to ownership. That rock is ours as much as it is theirs. Just ask STASA."
Lem wasn't exactly sure he was right. The Space Trade and Security Authority, the international organization that provided oversight for the space-mining industry, might actually side with Benyawe on this one. But if Lem didn't know the minutiae of such policies, he was fairly confident Benyawe wouldn't, either. If he sounded sure of himself, she wouldn't argue.
"But they got there first," said Benyawe. "That has to account for something."
"It has accounted for something. They've mined two quickships of metal. We're not leaving them destitute, Doctor. Considering how much they've pulled out of their mineshaft, they're probably at the end of their dig anyway. We're just sending them off prematurely."
She smiled reproachfully. "We don't know if they're at the end of their dig, Lem. That's baseless speculation just to help us sleep at night."
"You're right," said Lem. "But that doesn't change our situation. Unless another large asteroid pops into existence in the next few hours, we're going through with this."
"Then I'd like it noted in the ship's official records that I object to this action."
That surprised Lem. "You feel that strongly?"
"I do. And I'm not the only one. A lot of the engineers are uneasy about this, not only because it feels like stealing but also because they fear for their lives. What if these free miners are better defended and better equipped than we think? We're scientists, Lem, not soldiers."
"I assure you, Doctor, bumping a bunch of pebble eaters is the safest thing in the world."