Orson Card - Earth unavare

“How can we possibly stop it?” said Dreo. “We can’t compete with its tech and weapons. A whole fleet of warships couldn’t stop it. You thought going up against the pod was impossible? This would be a thousand times worse.”

“We don’t have to destroy it,” said Concepcion. “It might be enough to cripple it. That would give Earth more time to build a defense, or it would give military ships enough time to come and destroy it.”

“And how would we cripple it?” asked Dreo. “We have five PKs. Five. Have we forgotten how big this thing is? We’re a fraction of its size. Five PKs might not inflict any damage.”

“I don’t know how we’d do it,” said Concepcion. “That will require thought. But doing nothing isn’t an option. If we let it go, families will die. Whole clans maybe.”

“No offense,” said Dreo, “but that’s not our problem. We did our part. We destroyed the pod. We saved nine people. We sent Victor to Luna. We lost Toron and Alejandra and Faron. We’ve made our sacrifices. We’ve done our duty. What you’re suggesting will get us all killed. This is out of our hands now. It’s too big for us to solve.”

“I agree with Concepcion,” said Edimar. “If we can make an attempt to stop it, we should.”

“Of course you agree,” said Dreo. “You lost half your family. You’re angry. I, for one, would like to live. Besides, did we not just establish that they have a weapon that can destroy everything around it? How could we even get close enough to attack it?”

“Don’t think of it as a weapon,” said Segundo. “Think of it as exhaust.”

“What difference does it make?” said Dreo. “If it fires it, we’re just as dead.”

“It does make a difference,” said Segundo. “Because if it just unleashed a massive amount of exhaust, then it stands to reason that it won’t release more exhaust for some time. If we’re going to strike it, now is the time.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Dreo. He looked at those around him. “Am I the only one who thinks this is insane? What about our children? Are we willing to risk them, too?”

“We don’t have to do this alone,” said Concepcion. “There are other ships ahead of us. If we can contact them, we can enlist help. Maybe we could load the children onto another ship and keep that ship out of the fray.”

“We’re not a warship,” said Dreo. “This isn’t our fight.”

“It is our fight,” said Concepcion. “It is most definitely our fight. That ship is a threat to every human alive. Now, if all of you tell me I’m wrong, if all of you disagree, then I’ll stop the ship. Otherwise, we’re attacking that ship.”

“How can we enlist help with all this interference?” asked Rena.

“The radio will work for up to a few hundred kilometers,” said Segundo. “It’s the long-distance messages that can’t get through. If we get close enough to another ship, we can get a high-bandwidth message through. Holo to holo.”

“Who would help us?” said Bahzim.

“We’d have to be selective,” said Concepcion. “The only mining ships that could likely intercept the hormigas are ones that are already moving in this direction at a high velocity. There isn’t time for other ships to change their course and accelerate up to our speed. Selmo, what ships ahead of us qualify?”

Selmo wiped his hand through the holospace and busied himself with the data from the Eye. “I’ve got ten ships in front of us, but only two of them are matching our speed and moving in our direction.”

“Two ships?” said Bahzim. “That’s not much of an assault, especially if one of them is going to take the women and children.”

“What are the two ships?” asked Concepcion.

“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 comparison. 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?