"Victor is a kid, Lem. He was giving you a ballpark estimate. You can't bet his life on that. Of course there would be delays. There always are." She shook her head. "I can't believe you would endanger them like this. Did you even tell them what your father was planning? Do they know drones might be coming?"
He hadn't told them of course. He had worried they might abort. "I wasn't going to burden them with that knowledge. They were already worried enough about the Formics' defenses."
Benyawe waved a dismissive hand. "Spare me, Lem. Don't pretend you kept this from us for any reason other than your own self-interest. This is you and your father playing war games, desperately trying to outdo the other with no regard for the people caught in the middle."
"You're forgetting this whole escapade wasn't my idea, Benyawe. It was Victor's and Imala's. I brought it to you, I asked for your opinion, I got you involved."
"Yes, and you left out that crucial bit of information about a fleet of drones potentially firing on the mothership and ripping Victor and Imala apart."
Lem put up his hands, stopping her, his voice even. "Are you done vilifying me? I just told you, the drones don't launch for three days. That gives us plenty of time to remove Victor and Imala from harm."
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier, Lem? At the very least, you should have told me about the drones the instant it became apparent that Victor and Imala would arrive behind schedule."
"I didn't tell you because I was afraid you would abort the mission and pull them back immediately, before they reached the Formic ship."
"You're right. I would have."
"Then I made the right decision to keep it from you," said Lem. "We had to know if this tactical approach would work. No one has reached the Formic ship until now. Every military that has approached it has been obliterated. Even nukes can't get within a thousand klicks of the thing. And if we can't touch it, we can't stop it. This entire war hinges on that single objective: Getting in that ship and cracking it wide open. That's why I kept the drone attack from you. Victor and Imala had to reach the ship. And if they die today, if all we learn from them is that there's a way to reach that ship, then that's knowledge worth dying for. Victor and Imala would agree with me."
She shook her head and was quiet a long moment, not looking at him. Finally she said, "So now what? We pull them out? Tell them to turn back?"
"No, we tell them nothing. They're at the ship. That's the first big hurdle. They actually might sabotage it. And if they do, my father will have no need to launch the drones. In the meantime, you will help me convince him to postpone his attack."
"How?"
We'll go to my father and tell him about Victor and Imala, show him they've reached the ship, and ask that he postpone."
"He won't listen," said Benyawe. "You know him as well as I do. He'll see Victor and Imala as unfortunate casualties and he'll launch anyway."
"Which is why you and I are going to prove to him that attacking the mothership with glasers is a dangerous idea."
"That won't take three days," said Benyawe. "That's an easy argument to make. I'll talk to him myself."
Lem shook his head. "It's not that simple. The glaser my father is using with the drones is not like the prototype you and Dublin developed. It's smaller, more compact. A different team of engineers has been developing it for over a year now based on your and Dublin's original designs. They started as soon as we sent word from the Kuiper Belt that the glaser was operational."
She looked affronted. "Why aren't Dublin and I consulting with these people? We spent six years designing the prototype. We know the tech better than anyone. We could point out flaws, suggest refinements, help them avoid the same mistakes we made."
"Because when you say 'flaws,' or 'refinements,' all my father hears is 'delays delays delays.' You're not consulting because you'd muck up his production schedule. You'd slow everything down."
"Yes, but going to market too soon, hurrying a glaser into production before it's ready, that's far more dangerous. This doesn't make sense, Lem. This isn't like your father. He's never reckless."
"My father is eager to end a war, Benyawe. The glasers are his answer, whether they're ready or not."
"They can't possibly be ready. A year isn't enough time. How could they have made the necessary modifications that fast without encountering glitches?"
"That's what you and I must prove."
"Fine. Take me to them. Dublin can come as well. We'll inspect them. If there's anything amiss, we'll detect it."
Lem shook his head. "Close, but no. I'm going to inspect the glaser, and you're going to stay here, watch a live feed from my camera, and tell me what I'm looking at. The glasers are being assembled in a manufacturing plant that isn't on the company map. High-level clearance. You don't have access. They'd frog-march you out of there before you got within a hundred meters of the place."
"You don't have clearance either."
"I'm the son of the CEO. Everyone knows my face. They'll assume I have clearance. And even if they are suspicious, even if they want to approach me and question my presence, they'll be too afraid of offending Father to say a word. I'll be fine."
"How will you get in the doors?"
Lem pulled a small proximity chip from his pocket. "With this." He slipped it into his wrist pad. "It will open every door in the company."
"I'm not going to ask where you got that or how much it cost."
"I bought it from one of Father's former security officers."
"Former?"
"He suddenly came into some money and decided to retire." Lem rebooted his wrist pad so it would recognize the chip. "Watch the feed and walk me through the inspection. I'm going there now." He turned and moved toward the exit.
"You should have told me about the drones sooner, Lem."
He didn't answer. He pushed open the door, deactivated his greaves, and leaped to his skimmer.
He flew out of the dome and headed east, putting the city behind him. Father built the company's tunnels outside of Imbrium in a wide intricate web far from the prying eyes of regulators. The plant where the drones were being prepped was down in the easternmost tunnels, where security was especially tight. Lem had visited it once before when he weaseled his way onto a tour the plant manager was giving Father. What Lem saw had impressed him: dozens of drones being armed with glasers, hundreds of assembly bots welding and cutting and drilling, an army of workers frantically trying to make Father's deadline. It was a clear testament to how determined Father was in his cause.
Lem's guidance system spotted the landing pad, and he brought the skimmer down dead center. The pad sank below the surface and into the docking bay, where the docking bots grabbed the skimmer and slid it into a holding container. A tube encircled the cockpit and allowed Lem to exit.
His earpiece was synched with his wrist pad, and he listened as it gave him directions from the bay to the foot tunnels. Dozens of employees were in the tunnels, going about their business. Lem walked down the center of the main passageway, head high, being as conspicuous as possible, moving with confidence, as if he had every right to be there.
Ahead of him was the first automated security gate. Foot traffic moved through it uninterrupted, the scanners silently identifying every proximity chip that passed. Lem wondered what would happen if his chip proved to be a dud. Alarms? Sirens? Armed men suddenly at his side?
He walked through without incident.
He continued on, following the wayfinding signs to the manufacturing plant. When he stepped through the entrance, he walked out onto a platform that overlooked the assembly line where the drones were being prepped.
Only, the drones weren't there. The plant was empty. All of the worker bots had been pushed up against the side walls, leaving the floor clean and bare. Lem stared, his mind racing. Had Father moved up the schedule? Had they already launched? Should he rush out and warn Victor and Imala?
He hurried to his right and took the stairs down to the pla
nt floor, desperate to find a computer terminal. There would be tracking records, work orders, launch clearances. He booted up one of the worker bots, plugged in his holopad, and slid on his goggles. Benyawe was waiting for him on his HUD.
"Show me one of the drones," she said.
"I can't. They're gone."
"Gone? Where?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
Lem poked his stylus through the holos in front of him, maneuvering through the operating system, clicking through files, not sure where to find what he was looking for.
"You need the production schedules," said Benyawe. "You're digging around in the wrong places. These are system files."
"I don't know this OS."
"Then stop and let me drive."
He passed control over to her and watched as the files zipped by. After a moment she pulled up a schematic of the new glaser, spun it around, and dove inside it, flying through its circuitry, pausing every now and then to examine some chip, component, or mechanism.
Lem said nothing, letting her concentrate, though inside he felt a tightening grip of panic. After two minutes Benyawe said, "I need to see the stability readouts and precision reports. They've made all sorts of crazy tweaks, some of them brilliant, some of them asinine. If I had to guess, I'd say these smaller models have a faster fire rate, which, considering their diminished size, would make them prone to vibrate and overheat."
"Can I help you?" A voice behind Lem startled him.
Lem spun around and removed his goggles. Benyawe disappeared, and her audio cut from his earpiece. A short stocky man in a static suit was regarding Lem with an air of suspicion. Half a second later, before Lem could even speak, the man's face brightened. "Mr. Jukes. We weren't expecting you."
Lem smiled, nonchalant. "Yes, well, my father says you've been doing great things here. I came to see the drones, but it appears I'm too late."
"Cleared them out hours ago. I didn't think we would make the new deadline, but when your father makes a request, we do our best to meet it."
Lem dropped the act, his expression serious. "Hours ago? Where are the drones now?"
The man retreated a step, his smile fading, sensing Lem's panic. "Gone, Mr. Jukes. Launched. On their way to the Formic ship."
*
Lem flew west in his skimmer, soaring over the pockmarked surface of Luna, putting the drone plant behind him. He called Father directly, but there was no answer. He called Simona, and the music played for a full minute before he gave up and disconnected. She was either avoiding him or on another holo.
Who else could he contact? Who else would have answers? The worker at the plant had been useless. "How much time do I have before the drones reach the Formic ship?" Lem had asked. "Hours? A day? What's their speed, what's their angle of approach?"
"I don't know, Mr. Jukes. We only prepped them for delivery. They didn't tell us the intended flight path."
"What about the pilots who are operating them? Where are they? Here on Luna? Where's the command center?"
The man had cowered, backing up into a worker bot. "I don't know, Mr. Jukes. I swear. They don't tell me those things."
"Where's the foreman? You have a foreman, right? Someone in charge? Someone who actually does know something."
But the foreman knew nothing. Or at least he claimed to know nothing. And Lem had left at a run.
He tried Simona again, and this time she answered, her head appearing in the holo above the dash, her face flat and without emotion. Lem didn't wait for her to speak first. "Why didn't you tell me the drones had launched?"
She seemed unsurprised by the question and unfazed by his tone. "I don't work for you, Lem. I'm your father's assistant. My job is to keep him informed."
"You told me I had three more days."
"I didn't lie. When I gave you that information, that was the schedule."
"You knew I had people heading toward the Formics. I told you that."
"No, you told me you had a team preparing to go. You didn't tell me when they were leaving."
"They've already left. They're at the ship now, Simona. My father has to abort. If the drones fire on the ship, my people are dead."
"Can't you contact them?"
"Of course I can."
"Then call them yourself and have them pull out. The drones won't reach the ship for another few hours."
Lem's voice rose. "They can't pull out that fast, Simona. If they rush away from the ship, the Formics will detect their movements and blow them away. They have to move slowly, at a drift. And even if they started drifting now, they wouldn't be far enough away by the time the drones arrived. If the glasers fire on the Formic ship, the subsequent gravity field will expand outward and consume my people and their shuttle. Are you following me here? They die if they run, they die if they drift. There's no scenario in which they survive if the drones attack. Father has to postpone. My people need days to get clear."
"They don't have days, Lem. They have hours."
"Are you listening to me? Is your mind processing the words I'm forming into sentences? The drones can't attack." The casual way she was regarding him was infuriating, as if she already knew every one of his arguments and simply didn't care.
"Where is my father?"
"In a very important meeting. He can't be disturbed."
"He's about to be disturbed. Where is he?"
"He's inaccessible, Lem. I'm sorry."
"We're talking about people's lives, Simona. My father can afford a momentary interruption."
"No, he can't. Not in this meeting anyway. I'm sorry, Lem. I wish I could do more. Now you answer a question for me: How did you get inside the drone plant? I just spoke with the foreman. Who let you inside?"
Lem disconnected, and Simona's head winked out. She wasn't going to help.
He debated calling Benyawe but then decided against it. If she knew about the launch she'd fly into a panic, insisting that they contact Victor and Imala, which would only put them into a panic as well. No, Lem would handle this. He didn't need Benyawe barking her disapproval. That wouldn't help his anxiety or the situation.
He made another holo call, this time to Father's office. No one answered, which was odd since Father had a team of secretaries on staff around the clock. It meant Simona had gotten to them already and told them to avoid his calls, or she had put a block on his holo signature. Either way, it meant she was sandbagging him. He would have to find Father himself.
But where? The tunnel system was extensive, stretching for several kilometers in every direction, a labyrinth with secret wings and levels not found on any map. Father could be anywhere. Or he may not be in the tunnels at all. He could be dining with a potential client in Imbrium. Or visiting one of the shipyards, or a hundred other places.
Who are you meeting with, Father? What could be so important?
The skimmer Lem was flying was a company vessel, he remembered. It was connected to the company's data system. It knew all, saw all. It was better than Simona.
"Computer, access today's meeting schedule for Ukko Jukes."
"I'm sorry," the woman's voice said. "You do not have access privileges."
Of course I don't. Father's security restrictions on me saw to that.
"Access the meeting schedule for Simona Moratti," he said.
"I'm sorry. You do not have access privileges."
He exhaled. This wasn't going to work. The answer was there in front of him; he just couldn't reach it.
"Computer, check dinner reservations throughout Imbrium in the name of Ukko Jukes." He doubted the company's data system could access every restaurant in the city, but he knew the company had relationships with the finer establishments, the kind of places Father would go. He had seen Simona make reservations with her holopad.
"No matches found," said the computer.
"What about reservations in the name of Simona Moratti?"
"No matches found."
Again, another strike out. There had
to be another way.
"Computer, can you access the security cameras throughout headquarters?"
"Affirmative."
"Can you identify the location of a specific employee?"
"Only if the employee's face is currently within view. Otherwise I can only approximate a location based on the last recorded sighting or based on the last use of the employee's proximity chip."
"Can you identify the location of my father Ukko Jukes?"
"Affirmative."
"Where he is?"
"You do not have clearance for that information."
Lem swore. "Override clearance restriction."
"Permission denied."
Lem was ready to hit the dash when he remembered that he did have clearance. He had purchased it. "Computer, how are you identifying me right now?"
"Voice recognition. Lem Jukes. Executive Director of Mining Innovation, Kuiper Belt Division."
"Cancel voice recognition. Identify me based on my proximity chip only."
"Done. May I be of further assistance?"
"Give me the current location of Ukko Jukes?"
"Ukko Jukes is in the executive dining room, C Gate access, room 1345."
Lem changed course and accelerated toward C Gate. He arrived moments later, parked the skimmer, and took back passages toward the dining room. Knowing Simona, she would have taken every precaution. If she had alerted the secretaries at Father's office, she had likely sent similar warnings to Father's security detail. Keep your eyes open for Lem. If he shows up, politely deny him access.
Or, knowing Simona's dark mood at the moment, maybe she had ordered them not to be polite. Either way, Lem wasn't going through the front door.
The staff entrance was at the back of the kitchen, accessible via a side corridor off the main tunnel. A crowd of chefs in stiff white uniforms looked up from their work when Lem entered. Lem smiled and sidled past them, heading for the double doors that led to the dining room. No one spoke or tried to stop him.
The company had spared no expense on the dining room, a lavishly decorated space with a vaulted ceiling and chandeliers. There were over a dozen tables, but only one of them was occupied. Father sat across from a woman in conservative business attire. Lem didn't recognize her, but he knew at once that she was here on business and not as Father's date. Father would never pursue a woman so close to his own age and with such plain features.