you’re shilling.”
“I am shilling.”
“What you’re saying is important, Lem. It’s giving people hope. And right now people need all the hope they can get.” She typed something on her pad. “We’ll have to edit out all that talk about China, though. That can’t air.”
That annoyed him. “Why not? Because we have customers in China?”
She looked up at him, tired. “Do you have any idea how much ore the Chinese government buys from us every year, Lem? They’re not just a customer. They’re our third largest customer. It’s an important relationship to maintain. Angering the Chinese would send the Board into a tailspin.”
“Everything I said is true.”
She tucked her holopad under her arm and straightened his tie. “Be that as it may, these interviews are not podiums for geopoliticking. Focus on your story. That’s what people want to hear. Let the governments of the world focus on China.”
She was Father’s personal assistant, but she had offered to be on hand for all of Lem’s interviews for “moral support.” Lem knew full well that she was here on assignment from Father to ensure that Lem didn’t screw up, but he enjoyed having her around nonetheless.
“If I go on camera again, Simona, I want it to be with a real news outlet, not with a pink-haired bimbo. Please, for my own dignity.”
“Unna isn’t a bimbo, Lem. She’s huge all over Europe, particularly with eighteen- to thirty-five-year-olds. We’re hitting all demographics here. If we stick with traditional news networks, we’d be speaking only to geriatrics.” She straightened his suit coat and brushed off his lapel. “Now, you’ve got another interview in four hours. This one’s in Finnish, but don’t think that means you can say anything you want. I’ll have every word translated and approved before it airs.”
Lem smiled. “Don’t you think it’s sexy when I speak in Finnish?”
She rolled her eyes. “You also have a message from Dr. Benyawe. She called from your warehouse while you were in the interview. She wants you to call her immediately.”
Lem started moving for the door. “Cancel my next interview.”
Simona hurried to keep up. “He’s a celebrity reporter out of Helsinki, Lem. You’ll be doing it by holo. That’s your home country. You’re a national hero there. We can’t miss this one.”
“Cancel it.”
She caught his arm, stopping him. “Why? What does Benyawe want?” She studied his face. “Is she helping you send a team to the Formic ship? Is that what this is about?”
He pulled her to the side, out of earshot of the film crew, and lowered his voice. “Just cancel the interview. Please.”
In exchange for information, Lem had told Simona that he was preparing to send a small strike team to the Formic mothership. He hadn’t given her any of the details, but now he wished he hadn’t mentioned it at all.
Before she could object, he was out the door and making his way down to his skimmer. The warehouse was in a different dome on the other side of Imbrium, so it took Lem over an hour to get there. He parked on the launch pad beside the warehouse and moon-jumped to the entrance. Once inside, he turned on his magnetic greaves and walked across the warehouse floor, weaving his way through the piles of space junk. A few of the piles were as tall as he was, stacked with busted satellite parts and scraps of salvaged mining vessels. Victor and Imala had left it here unused, and it annoyed Lem that someone hadn’t cleaned it up.
He reached the far end of the warehouse and entered the conference room, surprised to find the overhead lights off. Dr. Benyawe was at the holotable, a half dozen screens floating in front of her, her face illuminated by their bluish glow. She was thin and lithe, even for a Nigerian, and although she was approaching her sixties, the years had been kind. Her hair was gray, but her skin was smooth and youthful. Dr. Dublin was asleep on a cot in the corner, still