by Adams, David
“How far away are we from Luna? And how far away from that Broadsword?”
After humanity had become a spacefaring race, referring to Earth’s moon as “The Moon” seemed very strange. Sometime before the Beijing had even been constructed, some bureaucrat somewhere had settled on the term “Luna” and, surprisingly, it had stuck.
“Three hours from Luna, one hour from the Broadsword. Should I spin up the point defense guns, ma’am?”
Liao gave a low chuckle, rolling her eyes at her navigator. “As much as I’d love for you to ‘accidentally’ frag the entire press delegation, Mister Dao, that seems like it would be a terrible waste of ammunition.” She sighed. “Have some poor petty officer prepare the conference room for a briefing, and for God’s sake make sure the hangar bay is tidy when they arrive. I want to make the best possible impression.”
* * *
Conference Room
TFR Beijing
An hour and a half later
“Thank you all for coming.”
Liao grimaced slightly in the bright glare of dozens of cameras pointed directly at her face, glancing down at her notes held in her good hand. She hated press conferences. Normally, James was there to save her from them.
But she faced the ravenous pack alone.
“As you’re all well aware, both the Sydney and the Beijing have suffered significant damage and the Tehran is currently missing. With repairs on both vessels underway on the lunar surface, our attention now turns to recovering the Tehran. Accordingly, in coordination with the Sydney, we will be launching an investigation into the Tehran’s possible jump destinations—”
“Captain, excuse me. Shreya Bose from IMC-TV. A few questions, please.”
Liao squinted through the glare of the lights. A short, dark-haired, plump woman with an audio recorder thrust towards Liao’s face had interrupted her carefully prepared speech. She recognised her as one of the reporters who had ambushed her on the Lunar colony after the Beijing’s first engagement with the Toralii.
“Miss Bose, there’ll be a time for questions af—”
“Do you have any comment on the cost of the Task Force Resolution’s shipbuilding efforts? Numerous nation-state participants are already complaining that the staggering cost of Task Force ventures far outweighs the potential gains, which seem so far to be limited to further antagonizing the Toralii. In the United States, the ruling Libertarian party is complaining that the nationalization of hundreds of industries around the globe has created a de-facto socialist government. What do you say to these comments?”
Shuffling uneasily, Liao shook her head. “I don’t set the budgets, Miss Bose. Now—”
“Is it true that the Tehran was confirmed destroyed by numerous observers on the Sydney and the Beijing after they observed it ramming the alien vessel straight on? Is it true an impact like that just simply isn't survivable?”
Liao frowned, lowering the pad containing her notes and glaring across the podium at the reporter. She did not want to consider that an option. James was not dead. “There is little evidence to suggest that the Tehran was destroyed. The shockwave emitted when they collided is consistent with a jump drive activation. While the two ships were outside of a Lagrangian point, and it’s true that their combined mass exceeds two hundred thousand tonnes, it is obvious that the Toralii Alliance possesses the ability to jump more mass farther away from the points than we can.”
A low murmur ran through the crowd, and suddenly, the tap-tap-tap of keyboards and scribbling of pens spiked.
“Commander Liao, are you telling us that the Toralii now possess the ability to activate their jump drives away from the Lagrangian points? That they could just appear anywhere and attack us again?”
Liao didn’t realize that the suspicion the Toralii might have jumped was not common knowledge yet. Hesitating a moment, she shook her head. “No, only that the jump drive was activated farther out than we anticipated, that's all. Now, Miss Bose, questions must wait until the end.”
Emboldened by her obvious willingness to answer questions when pushed, another reporter spoke up before Liao could continue, the man's voice being heard over the chorus of others who suddenly sprang up to catch her attention. “Exactly how far out, Captain? And what does this mean for the defenses of Earth?”
Liao considered ejecting the reporters, but she knew the press conference was being broadcast on live television to billions back on Earth. The cost of the Pillars was extremely high. Although their construction had created jobs, for each person that found work, four had lost it. She knew that if the people of Earth did not have hope in what she and her crew were doing, any government that did not vote to immediately terminate the program would be thrown out of office.
Some battles were not won with railguns and brave Marines.
Against her better judgement, Liao answered the question. “It… it doesn’t change a thing. The distance was only a few thousand kilometers.”
The male reporter spoke up again. “But the gravity mines were active. The same gravity mines that supposedly lock down our jump points and prevent jump drive use. So how did the vessel escape, and how does this change our tactical situation?”
Liao, unable to answer that question, lowered her voice slightly. “We don’t know at present. We’ll find out the answers to both questions in due time.”
This time Shreya's voice found Liao's ear. “Very well, then. And what about the Tehran? How certain are you that it hasn’t been destroyed? You said there was little evidence it had been destroyed. What evidence is there that it survived at all?”
Liao felt her temperature rising. She gripped her notepad a little firmer than necessary, her fingernails digging into the paper. “In addition to what I just told you, we did not find enough debris to indicate the destruction of the ship. We found approximately three tonnes of material, most of it intact and clearly battle damage. Wherever the Tehran is, it most certainly is not in pieces around the orbit of Mars. There just wasn’t enough mass to indicate the Tehran was destroyed, let alone the Toralii Alliance vessel we were engaged with as well.”
“What if the shockwave of the jump vapourised it?”
Liao shook her head. She knew she should be hedging her bets, conceding the possibility that the Tehran had been annihilated, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't allow herself to begin thinking that way. “The jump drive creates a powerful shockwave when it’s activated, yes, but it’s not nearly enough to vaporise two hundred thousand tonnes of material. It’s mostly concussive force. There’s no other explanation other than the ship somehow jumped away.”
Shreya clicked her tongue, raising an eyebrow as a smile crept across her face.
“Are you sure that’s not just wishful thinking, Commander?”
Liao studied the woman for a moment, a sinking feeling in her stomach. There was something about her tone that Liao found threatening. She felt as though she was walking into a trap.
“What I’ve given you is the best intelligence Fleet Command has at this time.”
Shreya nodded, casually glancing down to her notepad then back up at Liao. “I didn’t mean it was wishful thinking from Fleet Command, Commander Liao, I meant it was wishful thinking from you. Personally.”
Feeling like a cornered animal, Liao shook her head, her thumbs pressing against the wood of the podium. Her nails left faint scratches on the woodwork. “I, like all of us, hope that the crew of the Tehran is safe-”
“Were you sleeping with Captain James Grégoire?”
Shocked by the brazenness of the question, Liao didn’t have an immediate answer. Instead, her next few words tumbled out in an ungainly stammer as she tried, in vain, to articulate herself. She knew she had to deny it, but to lie on international television was probably not a good way to uphold the honour and integrity of the People’s Army.
"No comment, and that question is highly irrelevant. Security, please remove Miss Bose from the room immediately and revoke her pr
ess pass."
Her Marines began moving through the crowd of reporters towards Shreya, but the room was crowded.
Another reporter called out to her. "So that's a yes, Commander?"
She realized her mistake. By answering questions, by allowing them to slowly drive their wedge in, she was now forced to give an answer. She adjusted her microphone.
“And I… uh, well, that is to say, the status of James, uhh, Captain Grégoire… Our relationship, any hypothetical relationship we had… might have… may have had, is well beyond the scope of this press conference.”
Shreya smirked. She reached for her pen and made a giant, obvious check on her notepad right as the Marines yanked it away and began dragging her to the exit. As she was led away, Shreya called over her shoulder.
“Thank you, Commander! No further questions!”
* * *
Corridor
TFR Beijing
“God fucking dammit.”
Her fist met the metal bulkhead with a decisively unhelpful thunk, a gesture that did nothing but bruise the knuckles on her one good hand. Fortunately, nobody was around to see it because most of the crew had disembarked onto the lunar colony. In addition to how furious she was, Liao felt distinctly foolish.
“你怎么会这么笨，廖，你怎么能这么他妈的愚蠢的…”
So much for all that officer’s training. She’d told the press that there was a potential issue with the security of their entire species, had made a fool of herself by seeming awkward and uncomfortable, and worst of all, she had essentially admitted that she engaged in a sexual relationship with another ship captain.
That, of course, was nothing compared to what was going to happen in about seven months when the child was born. What would they say then? She could picture the headlines in her mind—Starship Captain Bears Dead Man’s Baby. News at 11!
Just great.
It took a moment for her rage to play itself out on the bulkhead, but when it finally did she took a few breaths and rubbed her tender, bloodied knuckles. Beating up a metal sheet wasn’t particularly productive, but she felt better.
With a sigh, she adjusted her hair, stepping down the corridor towards the infirmary. Her first officer, Commander Kamal Iraj, fell into step beside her. The Iranian man was all business, as he was most of the time. He was taller than Liao, with a completely shaved head and a thick, jagged scar running from between his eyes down the left-hand side of his face. He’d earned that scar fighting off a second wave of the Toralii boarders who had arrived while Liao was unconscious. She thought it gave him character.
“Good evening, Captain.”
She cast a glance his way, rolling her eyes, her tone snappy. “Is it?”
The Iranian gave a playful chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m guessing the press conference didn’t go as well as we’d hoped?”
“I’d rather not talk about it. If you really want to know, just watch the fireworks on the evening news. How are the repairs coming along?”
Kamal handed her a clipboard with a piece of paper attached. She took it and put it under her arm without reading it.
“Not too bad,” he explained. “We’ve got one railgun operational at ten percent power, and three missile tubes able to fire with about fifteen minutes’ notice. The fractures in the superstructure and outer hull have been addressed, and we’re not in danger of breaching any more subsections, but we do still have multiple exposures to space which haven’t even been looked at.” He nodded at the report under her arm. “We’re working on them.”
“Great.” Liao pulled out the report, glanced at it, then signed the bottom and handed it back. “I trust you to handle this. I’m off to the infirmary for a bit.”
Kamal took the clipboard, frowning. “Are you feeling ill again?”
Liao almost said yes, but changed her mind. “No. I just want to check on the wounded again.” Worry gnawed at her. Was her morning sickness really that obvious?
Commander Iraj nodded and, with a polite smile, let her walk on. When Liao got to sickbay, she made a beeline straight for Doctor Saeed.
The Iranian smiled fondly as she approached.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Captain. What can I do for you?”
“Just a quiet word in your office, if you could.”
They stepped into the chief medical officer’s office. Saeed closed the door and stepped over to his desk and eased himself into his leather chair. “What can I do for you, Captain? More morning sickness?”
Morning sickness. Probably the most inaccurately named term in history. Then again, puke-until-you’re-dry-retching-at-all-hours-of-day-or-night sickness just didn’t have the same ring to it.
Liao shook her head. “No, I just… I just wanted to make sure that this pregnancy–if it remains viable–stays between the two of us. Nobody else can know, not even Kamal. Not yet.”
The Iranian man nodded, leaning back in thought. “Of course, Captain. Doctor-patient confidentiality is a key component of my profession. Nobody knows but you and I.”
Liao smiled, relieved. “I appreciate that.”
Saeed cocked his head to one side. “I have to ask, though. What brought this on? I would have assumed that you knew, implicitly, my silence was automatic. What cause would you have to ask me this?”
Shifting uncomfortably, Liao blew out a low, unhappy sigh. “Let’s just say the press conference didn’t go as well as I had anticipated. The whole world knows that James and I were sleeping together, now.”
He stared then shook his head, his tone slightly mirthful. “Not good, but what’s done is done. No sense crying over it now. How exactly did you let that little bit of information out?”
“One of the reporters asked me directly and I froze up. I have no idea how she could possibly know about that. Although, if memory serves, she was one of the pack that interviewed me after the Battle of Jupiter.”
“I’d say,” Saeed offered, “that’s probably how she knew, then. You and James were hardly subtle about it.”
Liao waved her good hand absently. “I’m sure she had her suspicions, but enough to question me at a press conference before the entire world? I mean, if she was wrong, that would have been the end of her career. She obviously knew beyond a doubt. But how?”
“I don’t know that.”
Liao took a seat opposite Saeed’s desk, putting her chin in her hands. “I’ll just have to figure it out, then. There’s only a few ways she could have come by that information.”
“I wouldn’t stress yourself in your condition.”
Liao frowned, straightening and laying her uninjured hand on the desk. “In my condition? I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, Saeed. My job causes a great deal of stress. I thought we had agreed on that.”
Saeed held up his hands defensively. “I know, I know. I’m not saying you can’t lead your crew. I’m just saying that worrying about this and that can’t be good for you—or your child. Just accept that somehow she knew, and try to deal with it as best you can.”
She nodded. “I’ll try to build a bridge and,” she made a little walking gesture with her fingers, “get over it.”
“Good. Things might change when your pregnancy comes along, but for now—”
“What do you mean?” There was an edge to Liao’s tone. “I’m not crippled, Doctor.”
“No, no, of course not. But when you’re eight months along, it won’t be good for you, or for the child, to be leading this battleship against the Toralii.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Maybe it is good for me.” Liao withdrew her hand from the desk and placed it around her injured arm, leaning back in her seat. “My understanding was that I am in command of this ship. I know my limits better than anyone.”
Saeed gave Liao a lopsided smile. “The chief medical officer can remove you from duty if the situation warrants it.”
“Legally, perhaps. But I’m pregnant, not dying. Have you ever heard the story of Phung Thi Chinh?”
“Phung Thi who?”
“Phung Thi Chinh. A Vietnamese general who went into battle pregnant, gave birth on the battlefield, strapped the baby to her back, and fought her way back to safety. She’s somewhat of a legendary figure. Unlike, say, King Arthur, there’s plenty of evidence that she really existed.” Liao flashed a broad grin. “You could say that in these trying times, she’s my heroine.”
Saeed just shook his head. “Inspiring tales and legends are one thing, Captain, but this is real life. You’re going to have to take leave at some point. I’m going to insist upon it.”
Feeling vaguely insulted, Liao leaned back in her chair, her mirth fading somewhat. “Perhaps,” she admitted, “but not today.”
There was a moment of quiet as the two officers stared at each other, as though each were testing the other’s resolve.
“How’s Jiang?” Liao broke the silence, her voice lowered slightly.
“She’s still unconscious, Captain. I’m afraid things are looking grim. We may have to move her to a terrestrial intensive care unit. She has moderate intracranial swelling from her head injury. She lost so much blood. There’s likely to be brain damage from the lack of oxygen. I know you want her to return to duty, but that may not be possible—now, or in the future.”
“I can't afford to lose any more crew, Saeed.”
The Iranian doctor extended his hand, touching her shoulder across the desk. “I know, but the reality is what it is. Only time will tell.”
She gave a firm nod. “It will. Keep her onboard for now. I want to be here when she wakes up.”
He smiled. “As you wish, Captain.”
Liao wanted to say more, but her radio crackled.
