"It's good to see you, Father."
"Welcome home, son."
Ukko put an arm around Lem, and they moved for the exit, pushing their way through the crowd. Six or seven men from Father's security detail kept the reporters and screaming fans at bay, making a path.
"Lem, what was it like to fight the Formics?" one reporter yelled, his arm extending from the crowd, holding a recording device.
"Lem, will you assist your father in his personal fight against the invaders?" yelled another.
"Did you and your crew really take on the whole Formic ship?"
"What will you say to the families who've lost loved ones?"
Lem and Father were moving toward a skimmer Father had parked inside the building. There were more security guards around it. The windows were tinted.
Just before they reached it, Ukko stopped, turned back, and faced the crowd, his face still plastered with a smile, his voice loud enough to be heard over the din. "Ladies and gentlemen, please. My son just returned home from nearly two years in space. He and his crew have been through a series of traumatic events. He will be happy to answer all of your individual questions on another occasion. For now, please respect a family's privacy. He and I have a lot of catching up to do."
A security guard opened the skimmer door. Father ushered Lem inside and squeezed in behind him, taking the seat opposite. The door closed, and the skimmer took off. It was quiet and luxurious inside. The seats were wide, deeply cushioned, and covered in leather. Even the lap belts and shoulder straps were the height of comfort, yet another reminder that Lem was truly home. He buckled himself in so as not to be thrown about in the low gravity, then addressed his father. "You just promised those reporters personal interviews with me."
"You'll need to give a lot of those, Lem," said Ukko. "People want to hear your story."
"And what story is that?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten it already."
"What story are they expecting, Father?" said Lem. "What did you tell them? You obviously fed them something. They were asking about my involvement with the Formics."
"Again, good name choice there. The media loves the word 'Formic.' The whole world's using it. It's the hard K sound. You can't argue with a hard K. Like 'tank' or 'kill' or 'Juke.'"
"'Formic' was Benyawe's idea," said Lem.
Father smiled. "Noloa Benyawe. How is she?"
"Fine. She was playing second fiddle to my chief engineer, Dr. Dublin, the ditherer, until I put her in charge of testing the gravity laser. At first I thought it was one of your life tests for me."
Father frowned. "Life tests?"
"Come now, Father. All the games you've played with me ever since I was a child, all the obstacles heaped in my path in some ridiculous effort to impart some of your wisdom to me."
"You flatter yourself, Lem. I have far more important things to do than constructing elaborate scenarios that might teach you a moral or two. You're not a child anymore."
"No, I'm not. Which is why I was somewhat disappointed when I learned that you had told Dublin not to do anything that might endanger me. And don't deny it. He told me so himself."
"Why would I deny it?" said Ukko. "You were testing an unproven, potentially volatile device, Lem. I asked Dublin to use caution, if not because of the sheer value of the prototype then at least for the welfare of my only son. Pardon me for such an offense. Next time I'll give little regard for your life and have my engineers be reckless and irresponsible, if that's more to your liking."
"You made Dublin doubt his every move. He was paralyzed with fear. That's why our first round of tests took so long. Dublin wouldn't take any risks. He had the fear of harming me and therefore displeasing you hovering over his head."
Ukko laughed. "So I'm responsible for another man's fear now? What else am I guilty of, a child's nightmares? Really, Lem, you're blaming me for your inability to conduct the initial tests? Dublin is a grown man. He makes his own decisions and accepts full responsibility for them. So should you."
"You gave Chubs, my second in command, the same instructions: Do nothing that will endanger Lem. You essentially told him to supersede my authority. You made me look weak in front of my crew."
"You seem to forget, Lem, that when you're piloting one of my ships, you're acting as an employee of this company. You don't get special privileges because you're my son. You have responsibilities as a captain, and your first priority shouldn't be how elevated you remain in the minds of your crew. Your first priority is your crew, twenty-five of whom died under your watch and as a direct result of your reckless orders. Do you have any idea how damaging that is to the company? Now there will be lawsuits. And regardless of how we respond, regardless of how fairly we treat the grieving families, regardless of how generous we are in the settlement, the press will skewer us. They will label us insensitive and careless. You can't win those battles, Lem. Sooner or later, the press will stop caring why we did it. It won't matter that we were trying to stop the Formics. We'll look negligent. We'll look like the bad guy. And when that happens, our stock will dip. Do you have any idea how much money is lost when we go down one one-hundredth of a percentage point?"
Lem didn't answer.
"Well do you?" Father insisted.
"Of course I do, Father. I own shares in this company, and I'm the primary shareholder in quite a few others. I know how the market works."