"One's a WU-HU ship," said Selmo. "D-class. A drill digger. About half the size of us. Not much of a fighter, really."
WU-HU was a Chinese mining corporation, a direct competitor of Juke Limited, though they were small potatoes in compar
ison. Concepcion liked WU-HU. They stayed to themselves and didn't resort to claim jumps or clan bullying. If anything, they respected free miners. Whoever the captain was, Concepcion was almost certain he or she would help.
"What about the other ship?" asked Concepcion.
Selmo looked at the data and frowned. "It's certainly a fighter. Well defended. Plenty of guns. Strong hull. But I'll be damned if we want his help."
Concepcion knew at once whose ship it must be.
"It's Lem Jukes," said Selmo.
*
Lem grabbed a meal box and found Benyawe already eating at one of the dining counters. "I have an idea that I'd like you to pursue, Dr. Benyawe. Something to keep you busy on the flight home."
"We're not exactly twiddling our thumbs in the lab, Lem. We do work."
Lem smiled. "Naturally this would be in addition to your current duties with the glaser."
"And if I refuse? Will you abandon me at the next stop like you did Podolski?"
"Podolski had a special assignment and will be well taken care of," said Lem. "He has passage to Luna. We didn't abandon him. The whole thing was his idea."
"He must've forgotten that when we left him behind. He didn't seem too eager to stay."
"Going to the weigh station was a mistake," said Lem. "I take full responsibility. I had no idea it was crawling with criminals. We took decisive action, and I don't think anyone can begrudge us for self-defense. How's Dr. Dublin?"
"Recuperating. The doctors reset the finger breaks. He's in a cast and taking meds."
"Good." Lem pulled the tab on his meal box, allowing the food to float to the top of the container where he could suck it up with the straw.
She studied him a moment. "Did we kill those men because they knew about the glaser?"
Lem sighed. "We didn't kill anyone, Doctor. Chubs and his security team, working under my father's instructions, saved our lives. And no, they didn't kill them to protect corporate secrets. We were threatened. You were there. Now, put it out of your mind. I need that brain of yours focused on other matters."
"Your idea."
"I agree that gravity focusing is the future of the company, but not in its present state, not as a glaser. It's too unstable. The subsequent gravity field is too unpredictable."
"We've been working sixteen-hour days for almost two years, nearly getting ourselves killed to demonstrate this glaser for you, Lem, and suddenly you're not interested?"
"On the contrary. I'm very interested. But I think you'll agree our current model needs some work. I'm merely making a suggestion on how to improve it. If it's a terrible idea, you'll tell me. You're the engineer, not me."
"What's the idea?"
"Two glaserlike devices connected to each other like a bola that can be placed on opposite sides of an asteroid. Like earmuffs. They operate under the same principle, but their gravity fields counter each other, so the asteroid is still ripped to shreds by tidal forces, but the gravity field doesn't grow to unstable levels. It's far more contained. The rock is still ground to powder, but nobody dies."
"I'll put a team on it," said Benyawe. "I'll oversee it personally. It's a good idea. It's worth exploring."
Lem was surprised. He had expected a polite, yet slightly condescending lecture on how the idea was appreciated but far too impractical, a verbal pat on the head that essentially said, "Why don't you leave the thinking to the grown-ups?" After all, how could he presume to think of something they hadn't? They were the most brilliant minds in their fields. He wasn't a scientist; he didn't know physics, not to their level anyway. Yet Benyawe was going with the idea. Or was she merely placating him? No. It was a good idea. It did have promise. And isn't this what entrepreneurs do? They have ideas, and they call on people who can make them happen. Isn't that what Father had done?
Lem left the dining hall with a spring in his step, which was easy in zero gravity. Everything was finally working out. It was all coming together. He had four cargo bays nearly full of cylinders as a gift for the Board. He had successful tests with the glaser. Podolski was handling the snafu with El Cavador, so that would go away. And now, if Benyawe and her team pulled through, he might return to Luna with plans for the next generation glaser, an idea for which he could largely take credit.
Lem smiled.
He had gone through a rocky patch, yes, but the old Lem Jukes was back. He stopped and checked his reflection in one of the shiny metallic columns positioned throughout the ship. He hadn't shaved in two days, but he liked the stubbly facial hair. It was that rugged, devil-may-care look that women he had known seemed to swoon over. He put his shoulders back and checked his profile. It was the look of a leader, a face that demanded to be followed. He had Father to thank for that.