It had been Father who had given Chubs the secret orders to monitor everything Lem did as captain and to override Lem’s orders should Lem do anything to put himself in danger, which made Chubs, in essence, a secret glorified babysitter.
Father would no doubt call this good parenting, looking out for his son, protecting him from the dangers of the Kuiper Belt. But Lem knew what was really at play here. Father was doing what he always did: asserting his control, pulling the strings, playing his little game of power, and making Lem look like the fool.
The whole thing had been especially humiliating since it was a year into the mission before Lem had realized that he wasn’t exactly in charge. Chubs had been a stand-up guy about the whole situation. He had meant no hard feelings. He had even gone out of his way to keep Lem from losing face with the crew by keeping the whole thing a secret. But that hadn’t taken the sting out of being made to look the fool. For a whole year, Lem had been convinced that Chubs was his most trusted adviser. And then surprise! I’m really working for your father, Lem, and no I won’t relay your order to the crew because I can’t allow you to make it. Sorry, your dear daddy said so.
Oh Father, you can’t help yourself, can you? You can’t stand the idea that I might actually accomplish something on my own without your involvement. You have to secretly insert yourself into my affairs. Sly, Father. Whatever the outcome, you win. If the mission fails, it’s all my fault, if it succeeds, it only succeeded because you were there helping me along.
The thought was like a rod of steel added to Lem’s spine. He was all the more convinced that he could never trust anyone on board and that the only way he would be free of Father was to beat Father at his own game, to take the company, to remove Father from his vaulted throne and politely show him the door.
That war began now, here on board Makarhu, weeks and months from Earth.
“Why did these people charge headlong into danger?” Lem continued, gesturing back at the debris cloud in the holofield. “Why did they risk their families? Because they felt a duty to protect the human race. A duty greater than themselves. I know many of you feel that same duty. I feel it too. I feel it so strongly that for the past several months I have lain in my hammock at night, overcome with shame.”
Their faces showed their surprise.
“Yes, shame. I am ashamed that we sit here and do nothing except follow at a safe distance, while others fight to protect Earth. I wanted to warn Kleopatra. I wanted to rush in and tell them exactly what they were up against. But Chubs could not allow it.” At the mention of his name, everyone turned to Chubs, who stood off to the side near the front, face forward, revealing nothing. “Yes,” Lem continued, “that is a secret I recently learned that none of you know. Chubs was told by my father to keep me out of harm’s way at all cost.”
The crew exchanged glances.
“That’s why we’ve been following the Formics at a safe distance,” Lem continued. “That’s why people have died. Because my father values me more than them, and thus prevents Chubs from helping them. That is why I am ashamed.”
Here was the critical moment, he knew, the moment where he could let his own emotion show. Not as tears, of course—he couldn’t look weak here. It would be much more powerful to give the appearance of approaching tears and then be strong and stoic enough to push them back. It wasn’t easy. A lot of actors thought you had to go big, weeping and wailing and breaking a plate or two, but Lem knew better. It was the contained emotion that moved people. The grief and sadness that was threatening to rise up out of you, but dammit you weren’t going to let it; you were going to be strong.
He pulled it off flawlessly, staying silent for slightly longer than normal so that they knew he was struggling to keep his emotions at bay. Then he cleared his throat, composed himself, and moved on. A few more near the front were crying.
“Were it up to me, we would be doing our duty to Earth,” he said. “We would be doing more. We would be saving lives other than our own. But I am powerless. I see that now. With Chubs following his order from my father, I’m unable to do what I know is right. That is why, effective immediately, I am resigning my post as your captain.”
Their faces said it all. Shock. Disbelief.
Lem couldn’t have asked for a better reaction.
“You’ll forgive me,” he said, “but I can’t continue to be the reason why we turn our backs on people. Should he accept the assignment, Chubs will serve as your captain. If he must adhere to my father’s order, if he must put obedience to that rule above all concerns, then he must bear the shame of it. I hope he forgives me for giving him that burden, but I can’t live with myself knowing that people are dying because he is protecting me.”
Lem kicked off from the platform, floated over to Chubs, and offered his hand. Chubs saw that everyone was watching, some resentfully.