Orson Card - Earth unavare

“Then everyone on those ships will die,” said Lem. “They’ll stay and fight and they’ll die. Plus we would lose valuable time taking a circuitous route. Look, I’ve heard your counsel. I appreciate it. I acknowledge that what I’m proposing is a risk. But I’m making the call here. We’re not ditching anyone else to save our own necks. I’ve done that too many damn times already. We’re staying the course.” He wiped his hand through the holospace over the conference table in a particular sequence, and the navigator’s head appeared. “Accelerate back to our previous speed,” said Lem.

“Yes, sir.” The navigator looked to his left as he reached for his controls.

“Hold that order,” said Chubs.

The navigator stopped moving. Lem was shocked. Chubs had just challenged Lem’s authority in front of a member of the crew. The navigator didn’t move. He was either so stunned by Chubs’s insubordination that he was too shocked to fulfill Lem’s orders, or he was actually following Chubs’s orders over Lem’s.

Chubs waved his hand through the holospace, and the navigator disappeared. “You can’t do this, Lem.”

“I am the captain of this ship. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“You don’t understand, Lem. I can’t let you do this.”

Chubs’s expression was calm and his tone polite, but the implication was clear. He was claiming to have more authority. He was completely undermining Lem’s position as captain. It was total insubordination, if not outright mutiny. Lem opened the door and waved two crewmen inside. When they entered, he gestured to Chubs. “This man is removed from office. He is to be confined to quarters for the reminder of this flight. I want him off this helm.”

The two crewmen looked sheepish and didn’t move.

“Is there something unclear about those orders?” said Lem. “Place this man under house arrest.”

There was an awkward silence. The two crewmen glanced at one another and then looked at Chubs, as if waiting for him to give them orders.

Lem suddenly understood. He wasn’t actually the person in charge. He had never been in charge. Not for one minute of the expedition. Chubs was the real captain. And everyone knew it but Lem.

“You don’t actually have the authority to remove me, Lem,” Chubs said kindly. “Your father was afraid that we might get in a tough situation, and he gave me the authority to override any decision that might put you in physical danger. And in my judgment, what you’re proposing puts you in danger, so we won’t do it.”

His tone was polite but final.

Lem turned to the two crewmen, who averted their eyes, embarrassed.

Lem laughed inside. This whole trip had been a charade. His entire assignment: serving as captain, overseeing the field tests, safeguarding the glaser. It was all one of Father’s games. Father hadn’t given him any authority. Father hadn’t trusted him. He had merely allowed Lem to foolishly play pretend. All because Father didn’t think Lem intelligent enough to make his own decisions and command his own destiny.

“I’ve been in danger this whole trip,” said Lem. “That never stopped you before.”

“You were never in danger during the bump,” said Chubs. “And Weigh Station Four caught me off guard. I made a mistake by agreeing to join El Cavador. Had I known then what we know now, I never would have allowed it. Your father will have my head for that. I’m not making that mistake again.”

Lem smiled. “Well, I appreciate now knowing the real situation.”

“We’ll take the parabola route,” said Chubs. “And we will issue these orders in your name, so that no one will know that there’s been any interference in your authority. This will be treated as if it were your decision.”

“Thank you,” said Lem, without a hint of sarcasm. “That’s very thoughtful.” He wasn’t going to act like a petulant child. He wasn’t even angry with them. They were merely doing their jobs.

“And for what it’s worth,” said Chubs, “I think your course of action is better than what we’re actually doing. We’ll burn a lot of fuel changing course like this. We have the fuel, yes, but doing this will deplete nearly all of our reserves. We’ll still make it to Luna, but we won’t be able to deviate course again. We’ll be coasting into home. So if it were up to me, we’d plow ahead and take the risk. But it’s not up to me. It’s not my ship.”

“It’s not my ship, either,” said Lem.

Chubs nodded. They understood each other.

Lem excused the men and stayed behind in the conference room, standing at the window. Soon the canvas of stars in front of him rotated slightly as the ship changed course. There would be a fight at Kleopatra, Lem knew. Or a slaughter, more likely. Lem didn’t believe he could have saved all of the ships, but he was certain he could have saved a few. It would have been a simple matter of convincing them to flee-which wouldn’t have been that tough of an argument to make, really. Instead, he was cutting them loose and running away, just as he done to Podolski and El Cavador and his own men.

I am your puppet, Father. Even when you’re billions of klicks away.

He realized then that there was no one on the ship he could trust. In fact, as long as he worked for Father, he could never trust anyone else under Father’s employ. Father would go to any length and use any person to keep Lem under his control. Ah, Father. Such irony. You probably actually think you’re being a loving, protective parent.

Lem looked at his reflection in the glass and straightened his jacket.

This is war, Father. I will never be free of you as long as you own this company and I am under your employ. I am done playing your little life lessons. It’s time I taught you a few of my own.

Data Cube

By now, Victor was convinced that everyone in the rehabilitation center thought he was insane. The nurses and orderlies all treated him kindly, but the moment he started talking about hormigas and aliens and the interference in space, they all put on that false smile that said, “Yes, yes. I’m listening to every word you say, Vico, and I believe you.” Which was a lie. If they believed him, they would do something. They would give him back his belongings and send him to someone who could help: a government official, the press, the military, anyone who would take him seriously and help him get a warning to Earth. Instead, the staff all nodded and smiled and treated him like a head case as they wheeled him to his various physical therapy sessions and shot him with meds that were supposed to help rebuild muscle mass.

So when they told him someone from the Lunar Trade Department was coming to speak with him about his case, Victor allowed himself to hope. Finally. Someone with some authority who can actually help.

Then they wheeled him into the room where the woman was waiting, and all of Victor’s hope went right out the window. She was way too young. Not much older than him, probably. Either an intern or barely out of college. A nobody in the professional sense.

“Hello, Victor. I’m Imala Bootstamp.”

“Who’s your boss?” Victor asked.

The question caught her off guard. “My boss?”

“The person you report to. Your superior. It’s a simple question.”

“Why is that relevant?”

“It’s absolutely relevant because that is the person I need to be talking to. Actually, I need to be speaking to your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss. But since you probably don’t have access to that person, I’ll start with your boss and we’ll work our way up.”

She smiled, sat back in her chair, and looked around her. “This seems like a nice facility. They’re taking good care of you?”