Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

Benyawe followed.
    Verbatov’s men stood motionless like their leader, shoulders sagged, eyes closed. Chubs checked the men’s necks for a pulse, clearly hoping not to find one.
    “You killed them,” said Benyawe.
    “You can thank me later,” said Chubs, pecking away at his handheld. “And I just sent an emergency command to every member of the crew on the station to get their butts back to the ship now.”
    Lem’s own handheld at his hip vibrated as the message was received.
    Chubs quickly pulled all the darts out of the men and deposited them into a small container.
    “You killed them,” Benyawe repeated.
    The owner of the Thai restaurant approached, shocked. Chubs instinctively raised his dart gun. Benyawe stepped between him and the restaurant owner. “Enough. We’re not killing innocent people.”
    Chubs shrugged then turned to Lem. “We need to move. I’ll lead. You and Benyawe pull Dublin. Upright if you can. Not too fast. We don’t want to draw attention.”
    Chubs put his hands in his coat pockets, concealing his weapon, and began walking quickly through the tunnels. They passed small pubs, kiosks, shops, and vendors. Everywhere they went they got looks from people—Dublin’s bloody face was hard to miss—and people stepped out of their way, giving them plenty of room. The closer they got to the ship, the more crewmen they encountered. Several joined them as they went, took one look at Dr. Dublin, and quickened their step.
    They didn’t meet any resistance until they reached the docking tunnel. Staggar was blocking the way with four men. He carried a dart rifle draped across one arm. He saw the approaching crowd of Juke crewmen and smiled. “What’s the hurry, Mr. Jukes? Leaving so—”
    A dart buried in Staggar’s chest, and an instant later his eyes closed. The rifle slipped from his grip and hovered in space in front of him.
    The men with Staggar reached under their coats, but before they could extract anything, a cluster of darts embedded into their chests, necks, and faces. In seconds they were all silent and still.
    Lem couldn’t believe what he was seeing. All around him seven or eight crewmen had their weapons out, having just fired. Lem hadn’t even known they had weapons.
    “Are you out of your mind?” Benyawe shouted at Chubs.
    Chubs turned to one of the crewmen, ignoring Benyawe. “I want every dart accounted for. No traces.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The man and the other crewmen began removing the darts from the dead. Lem watched in amazement. No shock in their faces. No panic. Just quick unquestionable obedience. As if the crew had trained for moments such as these.
    Benyawe stared at the standing corpses, then hurried to catch up to Chubs, who was moving for the ship. “You can’t just shoot people like that and expect there to be no consequences,” she said.
    “The consequences of us staying here were far worse,” said Chubs.
    “They will come looking for us,” said Benyawe.
    Chubs stopped and faced her. “Who? The police? This is a weigh station, Doctor. We probably just did every store owner and trinket vendor the biggest service of their lives by killing off the thugs and criminals who have been pushing them around.” He gestured to the dead. “These men are bad men. That simple enough for you? Probably murderers. Did you see the restaurant owner’s face when Verbatov came in? The man was scared witless. There was a history there. By tomorrow, he and his store owner pals will be building a statue of us in our honor. Now, if you’d like to stay here and wait for the station security guard so you can apologize all formal like, be my guest. But this ship is leaving in six minutes or less, and I suggest you get on it.”
    Chubs went to the scanner Staggar had used earlier and called into his handheld. “Podolski, get out here.”
    In moments Podolski came out of the ship wearing the free-miner clothing Lem had purchased for him.
    “Erase our existence,” said Chubs, motioning to the scanner. “Every trace of this ship and our visit to this place is to be deleted. You understand?”
    Podolski looked uneasy. He noticed the dead men at the end of the docking tunnel. “What’s going on? What happened to those people?”
    “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” said Chubs. “Just do your job.”
    Podolski nodded.
    “Now,” said Chubs.
    Podolski hopped to it, tapping at keys on the scanner.
    Chubs turned to Lem. “You’ll excuse me if