"Yes. And if they had followed it they might have survived. We didn't know the strength of the hull. There was a good chance it could withstand the glasers. Which it did. So instead of relaying lifesaving instruction to the people under our care, the people we were responsible for, we did nothing." She stood. "What saddens me most is not that they died, Lem. It's that they died thinking we abandoned them, thinking we betrayed them. That's not a kindness. Or a mercy. That's anything but." She walked out.
He wanted to throw something. Nothing he did could please this woman. She was worse than Father.
Or was he angry because he knew she was right? He hadn't thought to have them hide inside the ship. He wouldn't have thought of that. It seemed absurd. And yet in hindsight it would have worked, maybe. It might have saved them.
He couldn't stay here. He had nothing to do but sit in his office and brood while everyone out in the warehouse chatted and twittered about what a monster he was. Thanks, Benyawe. Just as I feel a jolt of optimism, just as I'm rising out of the funk Ramdakan put me in, you have to throw the proffered olive branch back in my face.
He left his office, left the warehouse, not looking anyone in the eye. He climbed into his skimmer without knowing where he was going. The AI told him he had a message from Despoina. It started playing before Lem could object.
"It's me," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "Your father had a conference call today with several delegates from the European Union. Thought you might want to know. Also, I'm making lemon chicken tonight. Tell me what time you're coming."
Great, he thought. Now she wasn't even inviting him. He was expected to come over. And was she calling him from the office? Didn't she realize that all of those holo records were likely recorded?
He erased the message, flew back to his apartment, and threw his jacket to the floor. Let the cleaning crew pick it up. He went to the dispenser in the kitchen and poured himself a drink.
Father, Benyawe, Ramdakan, Des. To hell with them.
He downed the drink and replayed in his mind his conversation with Ramdakan. You're arrogant, Lem. You're too handsome, Lem. You're not your father, Lem. If you only had a different last name, Lem.
A child of privilege, they say. Ha. A child of a curse, is more like it.
Lem turned around, glass in hand, and stopped cold. The gun was an inch from his face.
"Welcome home," said Victor. "We've been waiting."
CHAPTER 11
Options
Victor got no pleasure from the look of surprise and shock on Lem's face. If anything, Victor felt only shame. Mother would never approve of something like this, he thought. Father neither. Waving a gun in someone's face, breaking into his home, frightening him, threatening him. This wasn't the family way. You're better than this, Vico, he could hear Mother say. We taught you better than this. The Lord said to
turn the other cheek.
Yes well both my cheeks have been slapped so many times, Victor thought, they're red and tender and ready to do a little slapping of their own.
Yet even as he clung to that thought and wanted to seem menacing, the tightness in Victor's face relaxed and the gun lowered to his side.
"Go sit on the sofa," Victor said, gesturing back to the living room with the gun. "And if you so much as twitch in a way that I don't like, I will shoot you in the kneecap." He sounded tired and not altogether threatening, but Lem did as he was told.
Imala was sitting by the hearth with her back against the stone chimney, arms folded across her chest. It had been her idea to confront Lem before they uploaded the vid onto the nets. She and Victor had read the news reports as soon as they were within range of Luna: Ukko Jukes had fired the drones, not Lem. The company's drone fleet was destroyed, and the market was in a panic. "Just because the press doesn't mention Lem doesn't mean he's innocent," Victor had said. "His father could be taking the fall to protect him." But even as Victor said it, he knew it probably wasn't true.
"There are still unanswered questions," Imala had said. "Until we get those answers, we should give Lem and Benyawe the benefit of the doubt."
Victor hadn't liked it. He had argued the matter repeatedly as they had returned to Luna, but Imala had persisted.
Lem sat on the couch. "I see you both raided my closet."
"We needed to shower and change," said Victor. "And since you have more clothes in your closet than my entire family did on El Cavador, we didn't think you'd miss two outfits."
"Be my guest," said Lem. "Take ten. Although I'm not exactly your size."
It was true. Lem was much taller than both of them, and Victor and Imala had rolled up the sleeves and pant legs.
"Let me bring someone up here to get you clothes that fit," said Lem.
Victor sneered. "Do you take us for idiots? You're not calling anyone. Take off your wrist pad and throw it to me. If you touch the screen at all, I'll shoot you in the kneecap."
"You're determined to shoot my kneecaps," said Lem, unfastening his wrist pad and tossing it over.