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Lem felt as if a hundred things were bouncing around in his head at once. "What announcement? What are you talking about?"

"That the alien ship was coming," said Imala. "It was your father who told the world and alerted STASA."

Of course, thought Lem. Father would pounce on something like this. It was the perfect opportunity to paint himself the hero and tout the company's strength. Lem could almost picture Father all over the news feeds, humbly offering up all of Juke's resources to "protect Earth

from harm."

"When did my family tell you about me?" Victor said.

It was then that Lem realized that Victor knew nothing about what had happened, which should have been immediately obvious to Lem. Of course Victor didn't know. How could he? He had left before El Cavador contacted Lem, before the attack on the Formic ship, before ...

He looked at Victor. Logic said not to tell him. Victor was a loose end. He was a witness to Lem's attack on El Cavador. And not only that, but he had also been directly assaulted. He was the person Lem had rammed with the ship right before they had stopped. That set off a whirlwind of legal alarms inside Lem's head. Victor was every corporate lawyer's nightmare. And what was worse, Victor sounded as if he were already an international figure. He had brought the warning to Earth. There was notoriety there, which would skyrocket any legal issues to the forefront of the news. The fallout would be enormous. In corporate terms, cataclysmic. It was all of Lem's buried fears risen from the grave.

He knew how Father would handle it. Lem had never heard of his father ending someone's life, but that was probably because Father was too smart to ever reveal his intentions to do such a thing. That didn't mean Father wouldn't do it. In fact, it was far more likely that Father had. You don't get to a position like his without cracking a few eggs. And Lem had to admit he saw the logic of it. There wasn't a more absolute and final resolution to a problem. Stop the heart of the problem, the physical beating organ, and you've stopped the problem, too.

Only here it would be messy. There were two of them. And this was a public place.

Lem pushed the thought away. I am not my father, he told himself. Not now, not ever.

He squared his shoulders and faced Victor. "Your family contacted me after you left. They were heading to Weigh Station Four when it was destroyed by the Formics."

"Formics?" said Imala.

"The name we've given the aliens," said Lem.

"Are they all right?" said Victor, his voice almost frantic. "My family, I mean. Were they hurt?"

"They asked us to join them in an assault on the Formic ship. Us and a third ship, a WU-HU vessel."

Victor's face was grave, as if he knew what was coming.

"The women and children from El Cavador were placed on the WU-HU ship, which stayed out of the fight. The men and Concepcion manned El Cavador. We tried to plant explosives on the Formics' hull, but one went off prematurely. It ripped through the hull, and the Formics came pouring out. I lost twenty-five men. El Cavador was destroyed. We barely got out with our lives. I don't know what happened to the WU-HU vessel. I'm pretty sure they were at a safe distance, but there was too much interference. We lost contact with them. I'm sorry."

Victor stared. All the life seemed to have drained out of him. His hands were trembling. If he weren't already floating in zero-G, Lem doubted Victor would've stayed on his feet. Imala put an arm around him, and Victor buried his face in his hands.

Lem moved for the door. He needed to get out. He was invading privacy now. Chubs followed. Outside they found Felix alone in the corridor, waiting.

"To your transmitter, Mr. Montroose," said Lem. "And this time, let's get there without interruption."

*

There were a few technicians in the comms room, which was impressive considering it was the size of a closet. They all hovered at different orientations around the transmission equipment so as to maximize space. "These men are at your service, Mr. Jukes," said Montroose.

"Tell them to leave," said Lem.

Felix blushed. "Of course." He shooed the men out then turned back to Lem. "I take it you're familiar with this type of equipment then."

Lem looked at everything with distaste. Some of the panels were as old as he was. He had wanted to do the transmission from Makarhu, his own ship, but Felix had insisted that that wouldn't be possible. All of the ships in the bucket brigade were using "closed-circuit transmitters" and the messages would have to be sent from here.

It was probably a lie, of course. Felix had merely wanted Lem here as an assurance of getting paid.

"We'll manage," said Lem. "Assuming your equipment doesn't catch fire."

Felix laughed until he realized it hadn't been intended as a joke. He cleared his throat and said, "The bucket brigade is standing by, Mr. Jukes. They will relay whatever message you send. I've given them strict instructions not to read the text or try to correct any deterioration."

"They can't read it," said Lem. "It will be encrypted."

"Oh," said Felix. "Of course. Shall I leave you then?"


Tags: Orson Scott Card The First Formic War Science Fiction