Earth Unaware (The First Formic War 1)

"Please don't use that term. I find it offensive. They're human beings."

"Pebble eaters. Rock suckers. Ash trash. Dig dogs. Mine mites. Scavengers. These words exist, Dr. Benyawe, because these kind of people live a less-than-civilized lifestyle. They marry their sisters. They're completely uneducated. Their children never learn to walk. Their legs are just bone and sinew because they never develop them. It's as if they're becoming a different species altogether."

"You're talking about isolated incidents. Not all of them are like that. Most of them are quite innovative."

"Have you watched the exposes, Doctor? Have you seen the documentaries on these people? It's enough to turn your stomach."

"Sensationalism, Lem. You know that. The vast majority of free miners are intelligent, hardworking families who love their children and obey space law. By bumping them we're taking away a family's livelihood."

"And ensuring our own. This is the world we live in now, Doctor. We're not in a lab on Luna anymore. This is the frontier. Out here it's not all squeaky clean. Do we allow ourselves to fail so that a group of free miners can tap an asteroid for everything it's got? No, we don't. We take it. Do I like that option? No, but it's nothing these free miners haven't seen before. This is their world. In all likelihood, they bump ships too. Who's to say they didn't bump somebody off this rock to take it for themselves?"

"More baseless speculation."

"I'm painting a picture here, Benyawe. I'm reminding you that the rules are different out here in the Deep. I don't like it any more than you do. These free miners have an obligation to their family, yes, but we have an obligation as well."

Benyawe frowned. "To the Board, you mean? To our stockholders? Seriously, Lem. You can't compare that to family."

"Just because these people are related to each other doesn't make their cause any nobler than ours. They've got two quickships of metal from this rock. They're going to be fine."

Lem's holodisplay chimed, and a message-acceptance request appeared. Lem waved his hand through the holospace, and Chubs's head appeared.

"We've got an issue, Lem," said Chubs. "Bumping this ship is going to be trickier than we thought. Can you come to the helm?"

Lem left his office immediately. He didn't want Benyawe tagging along, but she either didn't get the cues from his body language or she chose to ignore them completely. Either way, she followed him down the hall to the push tube. Before climbing inside, Lem faced her. "If you write up a formal objection," he said, "I will sign it and put it on record in the ship's computers. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business on the helm."

"I'd like to come along," she said.

It was a bad idea. Engineers never came to the helm, and this wasn't a good time to start, especially knowing how opposed she was to the bump. "This isn't a matter for the engineers," said Lem.

"I'm not just an engineer, Lem. I'm the director of Special Operations, an appointment you gave me. I'd say bumping a ship clearly qualifies as a special operation."

Lem suddenly understood why Father would put a man like Dublin in charge of engineers. The Dublins of the world never questioned you. If they disagreed with superiors, they zipped their lips and towed the line. That didn't make them better leaders, per se, but it certainly made Lem's and Father's jobs easier. Benyawe was another breed entirely. Staying silent was not in her DNA. But wasn't that why he had promoted her in the first place? He wanted straight counsel.

"You can come," said Lem. "But I can't have you arguing with me at the helm."

"I don't argue," said Benyawe.

"You're arguing with me now."

"I'm strongly disagreeing. There's a difference."

"Fine. Don't strongly disagree with me then. My point is, on the helm I am the commanding officer. You can ask questions. You can make observations. But if you take issue with anything I say, keep it to yourself until we're alone."

"Fair enough."

Chubs was waiting for them at the systems chart. The map had been replaced with a large holo of El Cavador. It was nothing like the original holo Lem had seen of the ship--that had been a 3-D rendering the computer had on file for the specific make and model of ship. This was the real thing. The Makarhu was now close enough to the asteroid to take high-res scans of the free-miner ship, and Lem couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"It looks like a tank," he said.

"We've been running scans through the computers all morning," said Chubs. "I've never seen anything like it, not on a free-miner ship, anyway. They've got armored plates welded all over the surface. Plus I've never seen this much proprietary tech on a single ship. See these protrusions here, here, and here. That's tech."

"What kind of tech?" asked Lem.

"We don't know," said Chubs. "These boxes here could be pebble-killers. Our computers can't make heads or tails of it. Most of it looks like it's built from scrap. The computers keep recognizing individual pieces from machines, but since the pieces are all used together in odd combinations, we have no idea what the tech is really for. Whoever these people are, they're either certifiably insane or genius innovators."

"I'd rather they be insane," said Lem.

"Makes two of us," said Chubs. "I don't like them having machines we can't understand. Makes me nervous. And that's not the worst of it." He glanced uneasily at Benyawe.