Lem hadn't made the memorial service mandatory, but he knew everyone on board would come, including those who didn't normally work in the helm: the cooks and miners and launderers and engineers. When you lived for nearly two years with people in a cramped environment, you got to know each of them rather well, even if your individual assignments didn't have you working alongside each other. Sooner or later, your paths would cross, and as a result, any loss of life on board was a loss felt by everyone. No one would miss the chance to pay their respects.
"I called this memorial service to honor those we have lost," said Lem. His voice was loud enough to reach the back of the room, yet calm and solemn enough for the occasion. "I speak not only of the members of our own crew who are gone, but also of the many others in space who have so selflessly fought and died trying to stop the Formics from reaching Earth."
Formics. The word still felt bitter and foreign in his mouth, like a large chalky tablet that he couldn't force himself to swallow. Dr. Benyawe, the leader of the science team, had suggested the name because of the creatures' antlike appearance, and as far as Lem was concerned it was as good a name as any. But he still hated it. The word gave the creatures legitimacy, an identity. It was a reminder that they were real, that this whole thing was not merely a dream.
"Nearly two years ago," Lem continued, "we left loved ones on Luna and set out for the Kuiper Belt. Our mission was simple: test the gravity laser. Point it at a few rocks and blow them to dust, prove to headquarters that the glaser can and will revolutionize the mineral-extraction process. Thanks to your diligence and unwavering commitment, we completed that task. It wasn't easy. It wasn't without mistakes and setbacks. But each of you persisted and did your duty. Each of you proved yourself. It has been my highest honor as your captain to serve beside you and watch you perform your tasks with such persistent exactness."
Lem knew he was laying it on thick, but he also knew that no one would doubt his sincerity. Mother had always said that were he not the heir to the largest asteroid-mining fortune in the solar system, he could have had a career on the stage. Lem had found that amusing; Mother was always thinking so small. The stage was for the pretentious and unattractive, all those who didn't have a face for the vids.
"But eight months ago our mission changed." Lem tapped his wrist pad, and the system chart behind him winked to life. A holo of the Formic ship appeared large and imposing. "This became our mission. This abomination. No one gave us the order to stop it. We gave that order to ourselves."
Technically, that was a half truth since it was the captain of the free-miner ship El Cavador who had asked Lem to help them stop the Formics. But what did that matter? Lem had accepted the invitation. No one had forced his hand.
He tapped his wrist pad again. The Formic ship vanished, and the faces of twenty-five men appeared. "Some of you may think that attacking the Formics was a mistake. We lost twenty-five of our crew, after all. Twenty-five good men. Twenty-five future husbands and fathers."
A woman near the front wiped at her eyes. A good sign, Lem thought. His real purpose here was not the memorial service, after all. It was to retake command of the ship, true command, not to serve as captain in name only, but to have his orders followed, to hold absolute authority. To achieve that, he needed to stir up their emotions a bit.
"But I say attacking the Formics was not a mistake," Lem continued. "Sending a message to them that we would rather die than see our world taken from us was not a mistake. Proving to Earth that we would do anything to protect her was not a mistake. Taking steps to save our families back on Luna and Earth was not a mistake."
He could see he had them now. A few of them were nodding along.
"But then something changed," said Lem. "We stopped focusing on Earth. After following the Formic ship closely, we pulled back. We retreated way out here to the ecliptic, a great distance from the Formics and thus a great distance from those we could have warned and saved." He paused a moment and lowered his voice, as if it pained him to say the words.
"We knew more about the Formic ship than anyone. Its weapons capabilities, its speed, its likely destination. We had even calculated when and where it might emit its next burst of radiation. If we had stayed close to it, maybe we could've warned all those ships in its path."
He tapped his wrist pad. The faces in the holo vanished, and a cloud of debris appeared in the holofield.
"Like these ships. The ships at Kleopatra, home to a Juke outpost and processing facility. Nearly eight thousand of our own people lived on that rock, plus however many people were in the ships around it. Most of them free-miner families. Women, children, infants, the elderly. We could have warned them. But we didn't."
More taps. More holos. More wreckage. One by one, Lem displayed scenes of destruction. One by one he recounted the lives lost. Most of the crew had already seen these images; the ship had collected them over the past few months as they tracked the Formic ship by following its path of destruction toward Earth.
Lem described what it must have been like to be on those ships, explaining how a blast of gamma
plasma at close range would vaporize blood and bone. And how, at longer ranges, flesh burned and cells broke down as a result of radiation poisoning.
"And while we were hiding in the shadows," he continued, "these people were fighting for Earth. While we retreated and protected ourselves, they faced the enemy, fighting for us, dying for us."
A few of the crew shifted uncomfortably. He was hitting a nerve.
A part of Lem felt a touch guilty for manipulating them this way. It was tacky and opportunistic to use a memorial service for personal gain, but then again this was war, not only between humans and Formics but also between Lem and Father, the great and glorious Ukko Jukes.
It had been Father who had given Chubs the secret orders to monitor everything Lem did as captain and to override Lem's orders should Lem do anything to put himself in danger, which made Chubs, in essence, a secret glorified babysitter.
Father would no doubt call this good parenting, looking out for his son, protecting him from the dangers of the Kuiper Belt. But Lem knew what was really at play here. Father was doing what he always did: asserting his control, pulling the strings, playing his little game of power, and making Lem look like the fool.
The whole thing had been especially humiliating since it was a year into the mission before Lem had realized that he wasn't exactly in charge. Chubs had been a stand-up guy about the whole situation. He had meant no hard feelings. He had even gone out of his way to keep Lem from losing face with the crew by keeping the whole thing a secret. But that hadn't taken the sting out of being made to look the fool. For a whole year, Lem had been convinced that Chubs was his most trusted adviser. And then surprise! I'm really working for your father, Lem, and no I won't relay your order to the crew because I can't allow you to make it. Sorry, your dear daddy said so.
Oh Father, you can't help yourself, can you? You can't stand the idea that I might actually accomplish something on my own without your involvement. You have to secretly insert yourself into my affairs. Sly, Father. Whatever the outcome, you win. If the mission fails, it's all my fault, if it succeeds, it only succeeded because you were there helping me along.
The thought was like a rod of steel added to Lem's spine. He was all the more convinced that he could never trust anyone on board and that the only way he would be free of Father was to beat Father at his own game, to take the company, to remove Father from his vaulted throne and politely show him the door.
That war began now, here on board Makarhu, weeks and months from Earth.
"Why did these people charge headlong into danger?" Lem continued, gesturing back at the debris cloud in the holofield. "Why did they risk their families? Because they felt a duty to protect the human race. A duty greater than themselves. I know many of you feel that same duty. I feel it too. I feel it so strongly that for the past several months I have lain in my hammock at night, overcome with shame."
Their faces showed their surprise.
"Yes, shame. I am ashamed that we sit here and do nothing except follow at a safe distance, while others fight to protect Earth. I wanted to warn Kleopatra. I wanted to rush in and tell them exactly what they were up against. But Chubs could not allow it." At the mention of his name, everyone turned to Chubs, who stood off to the side near the front, face forward, revealing nothing. "Yes," Lem continued, "that is a secret I recently learned that none of you know. Chubs was told by my father to keep me out of harm's way at all cost."