Lacuna
Page 4
*****
Lunar Drydock
Task Force Resolution Lunar Colony
The Moon
One day later
LIAO STOOD IN THE TFR Beijing’s umbilical, the long, rubbery airtight passage connecting the hulking starship—her hulking starship—to the drydock. At the moment, she was neither inside the great vessel nor inside the spartan, cramped lunar colony. She stood in the void between moon and vessel.
The next step would take her there, would be her first step on the cool, gunmetal-grey deck that led directly onto deck six. She had studied the blueprints endlessly. She knew the ship’s every bolt, every weld, but she had never before this moment seen its inside with her own eyes.
“Captain on deck!”
A passing junior officer spotted Liao in her white naval uniform and commander’s epaulette, coming swiftly to attention.
“As you were.” Liao then stepped forward. With a satisfying clink, her boot hit the metal of the deck. With intense satisfaction, she savoured the thought that she was now aboard her first command, not just any old ship but one the entire world was watching with eager anticipation.
A great personal moment, one that she would remember forever.
But it passed, and Liao made her way into the Beijing’s interior. She headed toward her quarters on deck two but was stopped along the way by a familiar face wearing civilian clothes.
“Hey, Melissa!”
Summer Rowe, her arms burdened with all manner of cables, devices, and laptops, pushed her way towards Liao through a group of chattering petty officers. Liao scowled instantly at her informality.
“Ahh, Summer Rowe. A word?”
Rowe jostled her equipment, her bespectacled, redheaded visage poking out from beside two heavy-looking books.
“Yeah, sure…”
Liao placed her hands on her hips and employed something she called her Captain’s Voice. “This is the Task Force Resolution’s vessel, the Beijing. I am his captain, and you are a guest upon it. While you are a civilian and I do not expect you to follow military protocol, here and in the presence of my crew, you will refer to me as Captain, Captain Liao, or ma’am. Am I in any way unclear?”
Rowe looked distinctly unhappy. “You’re not serious…”
“Deadly. This vessel is a warship, Rowe, not a pleasure cruise, and I will have discipline from you on this matter if you want to stay on board.”
Frowning, the redhead finally shrugged. “Fine.” A pause, then, “Captain.”
Nodding, Liao motioned for her to continue on her way but then changed her mind. “Actually, Rowe, if you could—you are here as a technical advisor. I require your advice. Walk with me.”
“But my equipment—”
“Will be securely stored away by this fine gentleman. Crewman?” Liao beckoned to a junior enlisted crewman, waving him over. “Take this equipment and stow it in Rowe’s quarters.”
“是的，船长.”
Liao frowned again. “English only, crewman. You know the rules.”
“My apologies, Captain. It won’t happen again.”
She nodded to Rowe as she unloaded her—apparently quite heavy—load onto the unfortunate man, and Liao waved for him to continue. The two women walked towards the stern of the vessel.
“Let’s talk about the ship first. Tell me what you know.”
Rowe immediately began to speak in a rapid-fire manner, her tone almost frenzied as she spoke.
“Well, she’s—”
“He,” said Liao, cutting over the top of her.
“What?”
“Female captain, male ship. The Beijing is a he.”
“Um. Okay.” Rowe seemed daunted for a moment and then inhaled and continued. “Well, he is what they call a Triumph-class assault cruiser. Two hundred thousand tonnes, half a kilometre long.”
Liao nodded. They turned a corner, and the crew moved out of their way as they strode aft, despite the cramped corridors. “Why two hundred thousand tonnes?”
“That’s all the jump drive can safely handle. Also, any bigger, and it wouldn’t be able to lift off.”
Liao was amused by how her term “jump drive” had reached the public lexicon, even amongst technically minded holdouts such as Rowe. It had taken only a few months after Liao coined it for the term to become the almost universally accepted term for the device.
“Good, continue.”
“Well, she’s made of a variety of materials, almost all of them mined here on the moon. Her outer hull is comprised of interlocking plates of the indestructium I showed you back in Sydney. When we need to, we pass an electric charge through it to induce rigidity—makes the damn stuff almost impossible to destroy and very radiation resistant… takes a lot of juice though. Fortunately, the ship’s nuclear powered.”
Click. Click. Click.
“Pen. Away. Now.”
Giving a dramatic sigh, Rowe stuck the pen in her breast pocket.
“Anyway. So the hull is plated indestructium. The superstructure is an aluminium-titanium-steel alloy, with various composite components scattered all around her. Artificial gravity and inertial dampeners are both based on a modified Reactionless Drive, eight nuclear reactors, an interesting weapons suite, a complete Reactionless Drive for sub-light motion and, of course, a jump drive.”
Liao’s heels clicked as she walked down the corridor. “Artificial gravity kicks in when?” She paused to sign a piece of paper thrust at her by a petty officer and then motioned for Rowe to continue.
“When we’re farther away from the moon’s gravity well and the artificial gravity of the colony itself. Otherwise… bad stuff happens.”
“Good. Well, you’re right so far,” Liao observed, the two of them passing various marines who stood to attention. “Tell me about the weapons suite.”
Rowe laughed. “A true military gal. Right. Well, the ship’s primary weapons are her nuke suites. Ten launch tubes, all arranged on the vessel’s uppermost deck. The warheads can also be loaded and fired via the rail guns, but they can't be loaded as fast or travel as fast as the ferrous projectiles that are built for that. It’s also hilariously unsafe.”
“Okay, rail guns. What can you tell me about the rail guns?”
Rowe grinned an impish grin. “Well, they’re twin magnetic accelerators running the length of the ship. At maximum power, each fires a six-kilo projectile at about a tenth of the speed of light. Great for punching holes in whatever you want at an entirely unfathomable distance, but it doesn’t do that much damage compared to the nukes. Of course, the nukes are much shorter range and much slower, so…”
“So they’re better if used up close.”
Rowe nodded.
The two of them climbed up the ladder to a deck above. Liao held open the hatch as Rowe clambered through and then she set it down with a dull clank.
“What about the jump drive?” asked Liao, straightening her back and walking on.
Rowe laughed. “Strictly—and I mean strictly—offline. Our shakedown cruise is cruising along at sub-light only. Even if we get to a Lagrangian point, we don’t want them to know that we’ve kept up development on the thing.”
Liao let just the tiniest smile grace her lips, nodding. “Good.” She paused briefly, to give gravity to her next statement.
“You know your stuff. Glad to see you’re worth keeping around after all. Welcome to the crew, Summer. Any questions?”
Summer grinned fiercely, motioning to the sidearm on Liao’s belt. “Do I get a gun too?”
It was such an inane question that Liao didn’t know how to respond to it at first. Finally, she nodded. “I see no problem with civilians being issued sidearms while they’re aboard, if the situation warrants it.” She paused, staring at the redhead. “Why?”
Rowe’s grin was a mile wide. “Because, you know, XKCD. They had this comic where they rated potential action movie one-liners from most-probable to least-probable. And when we find the demons, I’m dying to pull out my gun
and just go, ‘Bangarang, motherfucker,’ like, from Peter Pan, the original novel… Seriously, that’d be so awesome.”
Liao stared, seriously reconsidering her choice to arm the strange woman. “That’s… that’s something else, Summer. Good luck with that.”
Summer wandered off, and Liao busied herself with dozens of endless tasks as befitted the captain of such a titanic vessel, putting Summer’s strangeness out of her mind. The clock, synced to Earth time, was well past midnight before she finally visited her quarters for the first time. The Beijing’s lodgings, even for the captain, were spartan but sufficient.
Liao required little, but it was nice to sleep in her own bed.
In the morning, Liao rose to the sound of the buzzer outside her quarters. Throwing on a thick, green bathrobe, she made her way to the hatchway. Twisting the seal and opening the door, Liao was greeted by a welcome sight, James Grégoire, looking nearly a decade older since their adventures in Sydney, but still with the same warm smile on his dark-skinned face.
“Look who decided to drop by.” She opened the door a little wider. Her smile matched his as she beckoned him to enter.
“I can wait for you to get dressed, if you like.” He raised an eyebrow.
She just gave a cheeky grin. “I went through a co-ed boot camp, Captain. No need to be coy. I’m quite used to it all by now.”
The two entered her quarters. She watched as, with surprising agility and confidence, James fetched a pair of glasses—flipping them in the air—ice from the small fridge, and some scotch. She boggled. She had scotch?
It seemed as though she had not yet learned as much as she should have about the ship and its contents.
Sensing her reaction, James gave a light-hearted chuckle. “Apologies for seeming as though I know your ship better than you do, but the layout is completely identical to the Tehran.” He poured her a glass. “Even comes fitted with the same booze.”
“Now we’re talking.” Liao grinned, taking her glass with both hands. A brief silence passed as the two regarded each other. James’s dark hand brought his glass to his lips, breaking the spell.
“How do you find the ship?” he asked, the ice in his glass clinking as he drank.
She swirled the glass of bronze liquid in her hand, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s a fine command. Far more advanced than any surface vessel. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it, much less been in command of it. There’s… there’s a lot to learn, and there’s so much…” her voice trailed off.
He inclined his head curiously. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully at her disposition. “You have some doubt about her capability? Her crew?”
“He,” said Liao reflexively, and then shook her head. “And no.”
“He,” he said. “But then what? In Sheng?”
She paused a moment, considering her answer. “I suppose,” she admitted, sipping from her glass. “He’s young and unproven, but aren’t we all… except you, old man.” A playful wink. “And, well, I know that he has high ambitions. The problem is, all three Pillars of the Earth have captains now. How long does he plan to wait for the Task Force to build more? Does he honestly think he can earn his own command working under me?”
“I don’t know,” James answered, “but I’ve also heard that… heard he’s ambitious. I know he lost a lot of family in Beijing. Maybe he’ll be out for revenge, and that’s a good motivator as long as it doesn’t cloud his judgement. On the other hand, maybe he’ll fear the aliens a little too much. He does insist on calling them demons, after all. I suppose time will tell on that front.”
“I suppose it will.” A pause. “You don’t think they’re demons?” Liao’s question was laced with curiosity.
“Well… what do you think they are?”
She shrugged. “I think that ordinary men can be demons, so I don’t see why these aliens can’t be. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t believe in the supernatural, James, but… certain acts of depravity can never be forgiven. If someone acts like a demon, then in my mind, tar them with the brush that fits. Why not call them demons if they’re so eager to earn that moniker?”
“Melissa,” he smiled at her, lifting his glass to her as a toast, “I happen to agree with you, but hear me out. Our ancestors, humanity’s ancestors, called anyone with a birth defect a demon. They named the gibbering mad folk demons, or people with epilepsy or narcolepsy. People with mental illnesses causing them to hear voices were thought to be possessed. The causes for all these things were eventually found, in time, and now we don’t blame these perfectly valid medical explanations on ‘demons.’ We no longer fear and hate the unknown, revelling in our ignorance. Instead, we find the unknown to be a curiously enthralling place, something that encourages us to better ourselves.”
He knocked back a little more scotch, smiling still. “So it’s not that I disagree with your assessment, just that I detest the label. It is a rubber stamp for that which we do not understand, and I believe that all things have a reason behind them.”
“Makes sense.”
The man leaned forward a little, growing more serious. “Do you doubt yourself?”
Liao couldn’t answer that question right away. She stared into her drink, considering her response. When it came, it was measured and even.
“I know I can command this vessel,” she said. She sipped at her drink, and the burn in her throat helped relax her. “And I will give this endeavour my all. But so much rests on what we do here rests on sheer, blind, dumb luck. We're going out into space with basically no idea what we're about to face… if anything. And if the demons, aliens, whatever, come… and we fail…” Her voice faltered. “If we fail here, then…”
“Then don’t fail.”
Liao gave a cocked, uneven grin. “That simple, hey?”
Operations
TFR Beijing
Lunar Drydock
The next few weeks passed faster than Liao cared to think about. She was able to spend a surprising amount of time with James, and his presence assisted her greatly as the ship underwent its final preparations. They enjoyed an easy, close friendship, and she found his company to be an essential part of unwinding from the stresses of leadership.
But now, finally, the great day was upon them.
Liao sat in her captain’s chair in the starship’s operations room, a heavily built structure packed with computers. The area was sometimes simply known as “ops.” Buried deep within the vessel’s forward section and running along the ship’s centre axis, it was the most armoured and protected of all the sections, along with the jump drive, nuclear reactors, atmospheric processors, and weapons and ammunition storage. Sheng stood next to her as she took her seat.
A fresh-faced junior lieutenant—the Chinese equivalent of an ensign—handed Sheng a printed message. He read it and then nodded to Melissa. Sheng’s voice was charged with excitement as he spoke. “Final tests complete, Captain. All sections report alert status. Systems are green across the board.”
This was the signal—it was time for launch. From its berth on the lunar surface, the crew had conducted every conceivable test they could. Now, the only way they could stress the ship further was to take him out for a spin.
Liao tugged on her uniform jacket, nodding up to Commander Sheng. “Very good, Commander. Warm up sub-light engines and bring reactors two and six to full power. Keep the remainder on standby. Prepare to disengage umbilicals and mooring clamps.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Voices called back and forth throughout ops, punctuated by the tap-tap-tap of fingers on keyboards. Then Lieutenant Dao called from the navigation section. “All systems clear. We are go for liftoff.”
Liao turned to her XO. “Commander Sheng?”
“Aye, Captain?”
She paused a second or two to savour the moment. “Commence liftoff.”
Sheng nodded ever so slightly. “Sub-light engines at full. Bearing: zero ma
rk zero mark zero. Straight up if you please, Mister Dao.”
“Aye, sir. Engines at full. Lifting him up.”
The ship shuddered briefly as it strained against the moon’s gravity. For a moment, it seemed as though it would not move at all. Then, as though breathing out a sigh of relief, the ship slipped free of its lunar berthing and began to ascend.
The helmsman, Mister Dao, spoke up again. “We have cleared the mooring scaffold. We are away. Altitude: six metres and climbing. Ten metres. Fifteen…”
“Very good, Mister Dao. Climb outside the moon’s gravity well. Steady as she goes.”
Slowly, like a long, thin zeppelin floating away from the ground, the craft climbed out of the moon’s grasp. As the ship lifted higher, its velocity increased until finally it was calmly sailing through space. The gravity grew less and less, and Liao began to feel queasy. She fought the feeling with all her considerable willpower, willing herself not to hurl.
Finally, at approximately five thousand kilometres, the artificial gravity was slowly eased on. Soon the deck’s pull became equal to what they would have experienced on the moon and then gradually increased towards Earth's normal pull.
Dao finally spoke again. “Sixty thousand clicks distant from the launch zone. We are currently passing the Lagrangian point L2, heading outbound. We are free of the Moon’s gravity well.”
There was a cheer from the entire ops crew although the XO and captain merely smiled triumphantly to each other. Liao noted, with a little concern, that Sheng seemed a little less enthused than she. Shrugging it off for the moment, Liao picked up the ship’s intercom and engaged it.
“Attention all hands, this is the captain speaking. We are away.”
Lifting her finger from the talk key, Melissa gestured to the helmsman. “Mister Dao, set course for Waypoint Alpha en route to Jupiter. All engines ahead full.”
The helmsman’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Aye aye, Captain. Setting bearings for Waypoint Alpha, all engines ahead full.”
Liao stood from her chair, nodding to her first officer. “Nicely done, Commander Sheng.”
“Thank you, Captain. Just make sure to note that in your log.” He shrugged a little. “So, six weeks out from Jupiter.” He folded his hands behind his back. “Just a small hop around the block. Here’s hoping for smooth sailing.”
“The Tehran’s journey was uneventful.” Liao motioned towards the doorway to the captain’s office. The two officers crossed the floor of the operations room and stepped into her private office, Liao closing the door behind them. “Here’s hoping ours is the same.”
“You keep saying that.” Sheng flashed a smile in her direction. Liao noticed that the smile was a little bit more than professional. Not flirtatious, though, but… something else. She paused a moment as though unsure of how to proceed now that they were alone. She had intended to spend more time with her XO.
Perhaps he was just nervous, but Liao got the distinct impression that he didn’t like her. After some thought, she answered his question. “I suppose I’m hoping that if I keep saying it, it’ll come true.”
“You don’t think it will?” He inclined his head. “I know the people who built her, Captain. The Beijing is a fine ship and she—”
“He.”
“Of course. He.” Sheng tilted his head. “You have some doubts about the ship’s capabilities? I thought you were satisfied with everything.”
She shook her head, firmly. “No. This is the finest ship mankind can make. I have no doubt as to the power of his arms or the strength of his hull. It’s primarily new technology, yes, but it’s all been tested now on the Tehran, and most of the main issues have been resolved. I’m certain of the Beijing’s capabilities, and I know he’ll carry us through. Rather, I worry for the future.”
Liao reached up for the glass cabinet hung on the wall, taking out a pair of glasses. She went to pour a pair of drinks but hesitated somewhat. The glasses had special significance to her; she had last shared them with James. For some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, it felt wrong to do the same with Sheng.
But that was silly. She began pouring, putting several cubes of ice in each with the small tongs.
Sheng watched her pour. “You wonder if the Beijing is a match for the demons.” He chuckled. “Interesting. When I was visiting Captain Knight, he insisted that it was the visitor that poured the scotch.”
Smiling, she cast a glance his way. “Isn’t that everyone’s worry? They levelled three cities back on Earth, seemingly without a care in the world. They could have kept going… wiped us all out. They only stopped because they wanted to. And I’m not Captain Knight. How is the Sydney, anyway?”
“It has its problems,” Sheng admitted, downing his glass a little too fast for Liao’s liking. Obviously sensing her displeasure, Sheng rattled the ice in his glass. “I don’t really like scotch.”
“My mother said never to trust a man who couldn’t drink scotch. Would you prefer champagne instead?” She reached for the bottle. “So, any thoughts on why the aliens stopped their attack when they did?”
“Your mother’s very wise, and maybe that energy weapon of theirs is limited. Isn’t it a little bit too early in the day to be drinking so much?”
Liao shook her head. “You don’t use everything you have in a battle right away. If you do, but it doesn’t work, you’re defenceless. Even if their weapon only had three shots, they had an ace up their sleeve. I’m certain of it.” Relieved that Sheng was no longer interested in her hard liquor, she finished her drink then washed and stored the glasses back where she had found them. Reaching into the cabinet, she retrieved two of the taller, thinner champagne glasses and poured, handing him one. “Oh, go on. It’s a special occasion.”
He seemed pleased with the latest liquid offering, slightly swirling it and sniffing to sample the aroma. He clinked his glass to hers then put the drink to his lips, tasting it. His reaction, from what she could tell, was very positive. “I’m sure their ships are capable of more than they’ve shown us. And this is French? As in, actually from Champagne?”
“We’ll find out in due time, I suspect. And yes, it’s the genuine article.”
The pair drank their modest half-glasses of the immodestly priced drink, and then Liao packed them away. With her hand on the cabinet’s door, she hesitated a moment, studying her own faint reflection in the flat, glass window.
“In due time,” Sheng echoed, his voice solemn.
Captain Liao’s Office
TFR Beijing
Space
Day 9 of the shakedown cruise
Liao worked on her paperwork. A captain’s life was paperwork; it seemed never ending, and although Liao did not mind it, its mere existence proved to be a significant distraction from the actual business of captaining.
A buzz at the door caused her to put down her pen. “Yes?”
The door swung open, revealing the happiest redhead in the world.
“Goooooood evening, Captain Liao!”
Liao nodded at the thoughtful use of her title. It seemed as though Rowe might actually be catching on to military protocol, something that pleased her greatly.
The woman was highly animated as she practically bounced into the room, her curled hair bobbing as she moved.
“What do you have for me, Rowe?”
“Just my weekly report, Captain!”
Liao took it but did not have time to read it in full. Instead, she placed it to one side, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ll make that bedtime reading.” She grinned slyly. “I’ve been having trouble getting to sleep some nights, and I find your reports usually help.”
“Probably. I never could write anything interesting. Do Hoare logic and propositional calculus, yes, but write an essay? Read a novel? Phht. I got a perfect score in math and failed English. What does that tell you?”
Liao didn’t have an answer for that, so she nodded her head and hoped the question was rhetorical. “I see. Well, how ab
out you give me the Reader’s Digest version? How’s the ship holding up?”
Rowe positively beamed. “Pretty good, actually. The nuke reactors are humming along nicely. We had a malfunction in artificial gravity on deck six at 0200, right during my shower, but that’s fixed now. Just a subtle race condition in the micro-controller array; it seemed that the scheduler wasn’t actually achieving atomic transactions under some circumstances, so we weren’t getting mutual exclusion—”
Liao felt her aggravation quota slowly filling. “In layman’s terms, Rowe. I’m not a…”—she gestured to her vaguely—“a computer person or whatever you are, okay?”
Summer laughed. “Okay, sure, sure. Well, anyway, see, the micro-controller is an eight-bit system, and whatever fuck-monkey coded this thing was passing in eight-bit numbers, right, but you see, it’s expecting a signed—”
“More layman, if you please.”
Rowe stared a moment. “Computer machine broke. I fixed it.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” Liao casually tapped on the desk with the tip of a finger. “Will it happen again?”
“No. At least, it shouldn’t as long as we’re not mixing unsigned and signed…” She stopped, holding up her hands. “No, it shouldn’t. I’m pretty sure.”
Liao thought a moment. “Anything else to report?”
“Eh, nothing much. Sheng’s inbox had to be cleaned out again. He’s getting so many messages with encrypted images attached, and we didn’t plan on keeping so much data on the ship’s servers, so we have to repeatedly allocate him more storage space. Nobody else is having any problems.”
Liao nodded. It was puzzling that her XO would be receiving those kinds of messages, but she dismissed it.
Rowe smirked. “He should probably cut down on his porn consumption.”
Liao leaned in closer, her curiosity returning. Something about it nagged at her. “Is it pornography? Did you see what the messages were?”
“Uh, no. I don’t know what they were; I didn’t see. Generally, if guys are getting heaps of pictures in their inboxes, it’s usually photographs of cats with funny subtitles… or porn.”
Liao nodded. “Okay, thank you. That’s been most helpful. Let me know if you find anything else. You know where to find me.”
“Tragically undersexed and working yourself to an early grave, right?”
Liao smiled a little. “Right. Good night, Summer.”
Corridor
TFR Beijing
Day 19 of the shakedown cruise
“So what do you want on your grave?”
Liao was walking past the deck to the waste management room when she overheard familiar voices, Lieutenants Jiang, Dao, and Ling all chatting with Summer Rowe. Although there was always something for the captain to do, on this particular occasion Liao decided that she should “gain an insider’s perspective” on what the crew talked about when she wasn’t around.
Or eavesdrop, in the urban vernacular. She leaned up against the bulkhead beside the door, listening to the conversation.
Dao chuckled. “There’s an old saying, ‘To live in hearts left behind… is not to die.’ I like that one.”
Jiang’s voice was next. “I see.” She sounded curious. “So you’re… a family man, then?”
“Mmm, well, not yet, but I want to be some day, you know?”
Jiang sounded pleased with that answer. “Heh, that’s… that’s very sweet. I’d probably have ‘I’m with stupid!’ or something. Nothing deep or philosophical. That’s not me.”
Ling spoke up next, his quiet voice hard to hear. “I have no idea what I’d write. I don’t like to think about death… especially not here, so far away from home.”
There was a general murmur of agreement, and then Rowe's voice reached her ears. “I want ‘Han shot first.’”
Liao rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe Rowe sometimes. Making her way down the ship’s corridors, she left the conversation behind and focused on work.
Operations
TFR Beijing
Space near Jupiter
Day 43 of the shakedown cruise
“Radar contact!”
Alarms rang out from the radar section. Twisting around to look at Lieutenant Ling, Liao glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wide.
“Report, Mister Ling!”
Liao’s command was terse, sharp, and more energetic than she had intended.
Their radar operator, Ling, hesitated a moment before speaking.
“I’ve got a radar contact. Letting the long-range emitter come around again so we can confirm it… confirming… confirmed. Ma'am, a contact appeared on long-range radar during our last sweep. Distance… approximately fifty-seven thousand kilometres off our port side.”
Radar waves moved at the speed of light. At that distance, it would take about half a second for their radar signal to reach the target and an equal time to return. She frowned slightly; why hadn't they seen the contact until they were so close? It was practically right on top of them.
The contact, if it was a ship, could see the Beijing almost immediately, of course, but it was safe to assume that whatever technology the demons had, it was equal to theirs or greater. So if they could see the demons, the demons could see them too. Perhaps they had been watching them for some time and only now decided to make themselves known.
Liao tapped her fingers on the metal of her command console. “Fifty-seven thousand. That would put it…”
Dao, the navigator, finished her sentence. “Smack dead in the L4 Lagrangian point, between Jupiter and the Sun.” Dao’s implication was immediately obvious to everyone. Their proximity to the Lagrangian point explained it all. The ship had appeared there using a jump drive.
It was them. The demons were in the solar system.
But what were they doing here, so far from Earth? Liao burned with curiosity. She folded her hands together behind her, straightening her back and turning her whole body to Ling. “What’s that ship’s speed and heading?”
A moment’s pause while Ling examined his monitor. The ops room was as quiet as a tomb, and Liao leaned forward expectantly.
Finally, Ling spoke. “Stationary, holding on the L4 point. Based on the radar reflection, it’s weighing in at… approximately fifteen thousand tonnes. Length: sixty metres, the size of a standard patrol boat. Much smaller than the ship that attacked Earth.”
Sheng inclined his head. “A scout?”
“Possibly.” Liao frowned and leaned forward in her chair. “But scouting for what? Are the demons checking up on their handiwork? They’re a hell of a long way from Earth. I’m disinclined to think they travelled who-knows-how-many light years to end up at the wrong planet.”
Sheng didn’t have an answer to that. He merely shrugged. “It isn't given to us to question our good fortune. Let’s report this finding back to Task Force Command and terminate the shakedown cruise early. Helm, prepare to—”
“Belay that command.” Liao leaned forward over her console, frowning. She looked up at Sheng’s shocked face. “I have absolutely no intention of turning tail and running, Commander. This vessel is on his shakedown cruise—a test of his capabilities. Given the opportunity presented to us, I fully intend to test all aspects of its performance.”
Sheng stared down at his commander, open mouthed. “You’re going to engage them? Surely you can’t be serious.”
“I am serious.” Then as an afterthought, “And as Rowe might say, don’t call me Shirley. Power up the rail guns. Load all missile tubes, and charge the hull plating. Helm, intercept that ship. Maximum sub-light. All hands to general quarters.”
The klaxon of the “general quarters” echoed throughout the corridors of the ship. Immediately the crew sprang into action; the heavy steel doors to the operations room, and all over the ship, slid closed. This prevented a breach in any one section from spreading.
Liao glanced over her shoulder. “Communications, relay to Task Force Command what we have found. Inform t
hem that we will be engaging the enemy momentarily.”
“Aye, ma'am!”
Sheng shook his head violently. “Captain! I must protest; this vessel is still being tested. It is not combat ready—”
“Despite this, I have every faith in this ship and his crew”—Liao's tone was even—“and I expect my orders to be obeyed. That hostile ship is significantly smaller, and presumably weaker, than the one that attacked Earth. Its appearance represents the perfect moment for us to test the Triumph-class vessels in combat.”
“Presumably weaker?” Sheng practically spat out his words. “We have no idea what that ship can do or if our weapons can even harm it. The mere fact that they’re here, and the intelligence we’ve gained from observing them, is invaluable!”
“I would have thought you’d appreciate the chance to bloody their noses, Commander Sheng.” Liao regarded him curiously. “After what happened in Beijing, I would have thought you’d jump at the chance…”
“These demons represent a power beyond what we are capable of destroying.” Sheng jabbed a finger towards the radar screen near Liao. “So while your courage is admirable, I ask you… what if we lose? We’ll have tipped our hand and sacrificed this vessel for nothing, a pointless waste of one third of our naval assets!”
“I’m aware of the risks, Commander, and I’m not being impulsive about this. In fact, I’d imagined that I’d be holding you back in this situation.” Liao carefully and deliberately articulated her words with calm precision. “But the reality is this: if we cannot defeat a simple scout ship one on one, holding the initiative and the element of surprise, then all hope for future engagements is already lost.”
Sheng balled his fists, looking desperate. “Captain, please reconsider.”
Liao did not listen. Instead, she moved over to the tactical console and tugged down on her jacket. “Enough, Commander. Tactical, weapons status?”
“All missile tubes loaded, rail guns at full power,” was the reply from Lieutenant Jiang, the woman manning tactical.
“Thank you Mister Jiang.” Although it had taken her some time to become accustomed to it after enlisting, as per naval tradition, even female officers were referred to as “Mister.” Liao didn’t exactly care for it, but it was a tradition and protocol. She recalled what she had heard her say earlier, “I’m with stupid.” Funny at the time, less funny in hindsight.
“Ready to fire at your command.”
“Good.” Liao placed her hands on her hips. “Distance to target?”
“Fifty-six thousand kilometres. We are closing at fifty kilometres a second. The target is still stationary… no movement at all.”
Liao wondered idly if the demons had seen them… or if they had but didn’t care. The initiative lay with them, clearly, and Liao intended to use it.
“If they’re going to just stand there and let us punch them, then let’s bloody their noses good and proper. Tactical, align rail guns and prepare to fire.”
“Captain”—moving behind her, Sheng leaned in closely— “I want my objections to this action noted in the ship's log.”
Liao’s head snapped around, and she glared at the man. “Commander Sheng, at your request, your objections will be formally noted in the ship's log. Now, prepare this ship to engage our contact.”
Sheng seemed for a moment as though he would contest the move. Then, with an angry sigh, he nodded. “Sir.”
The man return to his duty.
Bringing her attention to the command console before her, Liao took a breath and slowly let it out.
“Rail gun crews report ready,” Jiang called.
Liao took another breath. Right at this moment, they stood at the precipice of either the first victory of mankind or a stunning, catastrophic defeat. Sheng’s warnings echoed in her head—there was still time to avoid all this. They could still turn around and head back. There was some tactical sense in that decision. Even their brief contact would provide Task Force Command with a huge wealth of information on the demons, including the very fact that they were still visiting the solar system. The Beijing's passive sensors and optics would provide invaluable intelligence.
But there was more at stake here than simply facts about their enemies. Melissa firmly believed what she had said to Sheng earlier. If the demons… aliens… were so supremely powerful that one of their scouts, apparently caught unawares, could not be stopped by the best humanity had to offer, then their fight, their struggle, was already over. Liao might as well find out either way.
“Fire.”
Act II
Chapter IV
Fortune