Earth Afire (The First Formic War)

said Lem.
    Felix’s face fell a little, though to his credit, he tried hard not to show it. “Oh? How do you mean, sir?”
    “I mean I’m not paying you what I told you before. I was expecting a nicer establishment.” He gestured to the room. “No offense, but I don’t exactly feel safe here.”
    Felix smiled. “Oh, I assure you, Mr. Jukes. Last Chance is one of the most structurally sound outposts this side of the Belt. She was built in the early days, you know, back when ships were made by hand.”
    “Yes, and she should be dismantled by hand. I’ll give you half of our original price.”
    Felix gave a sharp intake of breath and put a hand to his chest, aghast.
    Lem suppressed a smile. He wasn’t even sure why he was being a stickler about the money. It was hardly a large amount. Lem’s investments had likely made that much in the time it had taken him and Chubs to dock the shuttle from their ship.
    Yet Lem also hated it when people thought they could take advantage of him. It was silly, he knew, but he had always carried the belief that people assumed he was a less intelligent, weaker shadow of his father. And as such, he would be easy prey in a transaction. It made Lem more than a little shrewd. At the negotiation table he was downright deplorable, showing far less mercy even than Father at times. But it also made him a brilliant businessman and was largely the reason he had amassed such a large fortune independent of Father.
    “That strikes me as most dishonest, sir,” said Felix. “We had an arranged amount. We agreed upon the terms. I’ve ordered all other patrons off the depot to give you the privacy you requested. I will not settle for anything less than the predetermined sum.”
    “And I will not settle for anything less than a decent establishment. I suppose that puts us at an impasse. Good day to you, Mr. Montroose.”
    Lem turned on his heels and made as if to launch for the docking airlock.
    “Wait,” said Montroose. “Surely we can reach an agreeable amount. I remind you that we are the only laserline link with Luna. You can’t get a message through any other way.”
    “My message isn’t critical. I’m on my way to Luna now. I can wait to deliver it in person. Besides, from the reports I’ve heard in the Belt, your bucket-brigade system isn’t as foolproof as you implied. I should expect heavy data deterioration.”
    Felix waffled then, seeing his sale slip away. He and Lem argued for a moment on the price, and when they finally agreed, Felix dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief, as if he had just surfaced from a feverish bout with an enemy, which, Lem supposed, he had.
    “And I have your absolute assertion that the ships in your bucket brigade will relay my conversation with Luna as promised?” said Lem. “I don’t want my messages held hostage, Mr. Montroose. I assure you that a legal battle with Juke Limited attorneys would result in you losing everything, including your personal freedom as a result of the criminal charges they would place against you.”
    Montroose swallowed and checked his watch, as if this whole affair couldn’t end soon enough.
    Lem tapped the amount into his wrist pad and held out his hand. Felix extended his own, and the two bumped pads. There was a transaction sound, and then Lem smiled. “Now, Mr. Montroose, I would appreciate you escorting me to your laserline transmitter.”
    Montroose began leading them to the far side of the room toward another corridor.
    “Murderer!”
    There was shouting behind them. Lem turned. A man and two women were approaching from the opposite entryway. One of the women looked at a loss, as if she had tried to stop the other two, but failed. The man was hardly a man at all, now that Lem got a look at him. Seventeen, maybe, if that. And by the look of his clothes, Lem pegged him as a free miner. Great. More grievances. Another angry rock sucker wronged by Juke employees. Lem was tired of this business. Every pebble picker who heard he was Lem Jukes always came rushing to complain as if it had been his personal fault. Must he bear the burden of every act committed by his father’s men?
    The boy was coming fast, but Lem didn’t flinch. He didn’t have to. The gun was in Chubs’s hand before the boy had crossed half the room. The boy saw it and caught himself on a handhold near the ceiling. His body swung forward with the momentum and then he righted himself, his eyes boring straight into Lem. The two women