by Adams, David
“Good evening, Matthew.”
There was a moment's pause. “Good evening, Commander Liao. I hear you’ve returned from Velsharn.”
Liao frowned slightly at the small beige box sitting on her desk. The Australian-accented captain seemed far more formal than he had been previously, something that set off alarm bells in her mind.
“That’s correct, Captain, I have. What can I do for you?”
“Are you alone?”
She took a moment before answering. “Yes, Captain, I’m in my office.” A pause. “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to speak to you about the mining outpost Qadan mentioned. According to my people on the ground, you were eager to assault it.”
Liao stared at the communicator, her hands flat against the desk. “Forgive me, but were you spying on me?”
A thin chuckle came through the speaker. “No, no. Nothing like that. Our translator, Andrews, he spoke to Saara yesterday and the conversation you had was mentioned.”
Liao grit her teeth. “Yes, I suppose that’s logical. The Toralii tend to be far less secretive than we do.” And far less protective of the secrets of others, she mused.
“Uhh, yes. Anyway.” Knight coughed softly. “I’m calling to remind you of what we discussed earlier. I know there’s a possibility James might be there, so I imagine you’re chomping at the bit to attack that colony, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to do so. We have two ships, Captain, and your crew have already been to Karathi. Neither of us have laid eyes on the colony. Even setting your potential bias regarding Captain James Grégoire aside, it makes logical sense for the Sydney to assault the colony–which by reports is not well defended–while the Beijing returns to Karathi and retrieves the parts.”
“But—”
Knight cut her off. “You agreed, Captain.”
She had, but it was one thing to make a promise and another to uphold that promise in the face of enormous temptation.
With a sigh, she nodded, although he couldn’t see. “Very well. The Beijing will retrieve the parts from Karathi. The Sydney can investigate the mining outpost.”
Knight’s voice carried his relief through the communications channel. “Thank you, Captain. You’re doing the right thing.”
With as much strength as she could muster, Liao forced herself to sound agreeable. “You’re right.”
* * *
Operations Room
TFR Beijing
Orbit of Karathi
One hour later
They finished up the last of their business on Velsharn and jumped the ship to Karathi. Once the jump sequence was complete, Liao retired to her office, officially to catch up on paperwork.
Unofficially, she cried her eyes out.
The Sydney was, at that very moment, investigating a Toralii Alliance mining colony where James might be held captive. Would he be fit and well? Or were they starving him? Torturing him? Had he already perished?
Dark visions played in her mind for a time, but the hands of her wall-mounted clock crept towards the hour, and she could indulge herself no longer. The ship needed its captain.
She spent a moment checking her composure, making sure her makeup was fixed and her eyes were no longer red. She also made sure her uniform was tucked in as well as it could be to try to hide the growing lump in her abdomen. Her confidence returning, Liao stepped into the Operations room.
When she did, she took a breath to clear her thoughts and instantly felt her command instincts return. Liao looked at her tactical officer. “Mister Peng, report.”
Peng twisted in his seat. “Jazz and Butcher are flying escort for the Broadsword Switchblade. It will enter Karathi’s atmosphere in two minutes. Distance from us is one hundred thousand kilometres.”
Jazz and Butcher. Peng was using callsigns to identify their strike craft. Not entirely against protocol, but Liao did not favour the callsign system and preferred to identify her craft with numbers. That was one problem with having rookies on the bridge, but there was nobody else to replace Jiang on such short notice.
She let the ghost of a smile play over her lips. It had been interesting how quickly Peng had found himself a bridge position, and now it all made sense. Kamal’s influence.
Liao wasn’t sure how she felt about the obvious favouritism, especially with her connection to James, but she put it out of her mind. The situation with her and James was not the same, but given how high her spirits were after her stay on Velsharn, she merely resolved to investigate it later. Now was not the time to worry about it.
“Very good. Keep me informed about their progress,” she said.
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
Liao moved to her command chair, easing herself into it with a soft groan.
Kamal stepped up beside her.
“Captain, the engineers report said they should have the parts we need within two hours. It’s night on Karathi, so the heat should be bearable.”
That was good. Nice and quick, and the temperature would be a lot more comfortable for her team. “Two hours it is. I hope they brought plenty of torches.”
Liao managed a smile.
From the engineer’s station, Summer spoke up.
“They did. I helped them pack.”
It was a simple statement, but one Liao found gratifying. Summer was starting to overcome the trauma she’d experienced, to begin the healing process that would eventually close the wound in her mind. She trusted Rowe and knew time would heal her pain.
She studied the redhead, watching as she worked her engineer’s console, doing innumerable things which normally didn’t concern Liao. Even though the rest of the ship had nothing to do, Summer was always busy. There were so many systems that needed regulating, so many little things the crew normally took for granted. Liao was grateful for the engineer’s skill.
Time ticked away. There was little for Liao and the Operations crew to do but maintain a high state of readiness. She remained quiet and alert, occasionally checking her readings and receiving reports from the surface.
The quiet moment was relaxing, in a way. A chance for her to avoid any disasters, any great dramas, and just do what she’d always wanted to do—captain her ship.
Those thoughts playing through her head, she heard the voice of Peng calling out across Operations.
“Captain Liao, the landing party reports that they have secured the parts for the jump drive. They’ll be lifting off momentarily.”
She nodded. “Good. Get them back here and let’s get to work installing them.” Liao stood, glancing towards the navigator. “Lieutenant Dao, prepare to—”
Cutting her off, the alarmed voice of Lieutenant Ling rang through Operations. “Captain, radar contact! One large signal in the Karathi L1 Lagrange point! Two hundred thousand tonnes!”
Liao whirled to face Peng, her eyes wide. “Is it the Sydney?”
There was a pause as the man studied his screen. Liao frowned, her hands on her hips. Jiang would never be so slow.
“Negative, Captain, it’s not transmitting the Sydney’s transponder signal.”
Ling spoke up again. “Multiple smaller radar contacts. The contact is launching strike craft!”
“Any identification on the vessel?”
Peng shook his head. “No, Captain.”
Almost as though answering Peng, Ling’s voice rang out. “Captain, that vessel is emitting an identical thermal and radar profile to the one we engaged near Mars. It’s a Toralii Alliance cruiser!”
The Toralii had found them.
Missing that crucial piece of information regarding the ship's identity was another rookie mistake from Peng. Liao stepped towards her command console, leaning over it intently. A cruiser. Just one of the mighty ships managed to take on the Sydney, the Tehran, and the Beijing all at once. There was no way she would or could fight it alone.
“Sound general quarters, Mister Iraj, and ready the ship for combat. Charge the hull plating.” She glanced at Peng. “How lon
g until the contact closes with us?”
“Twenty minutes to effective weapons range, Captain, if they maintain their current heading and velocity.”
Space combat was a strange thing. Once fired, a slug from their railguns would continue to travel until it hit something. That could take a minute, a day, a year, or longer, but eventually that slug, traveling at a fraction of the speed of light, would smash into a solid object at full force.
There were limits to how far the weapon could be accurately aimed when faced with a moving target, however. Against a stationary target, their weapon could very well reach across the solar system, but the Toralii warships had proven themselves remarkably nimble.
Liao looked at Peng, her tone dispassionate and even. “How long until our team on the surface returns?”
“Seven minutes, Captain.”
Thirteen minutes. It was more than enough time to retrieve their crew and escape.
Liao gestured to Kamal. “Commander, retrieve our strike craft and prepare the ship to jump. As soon as our people are on board, we are out of here.”
“Yes, Captain.” The man stepped away, calling orders out across the room. Liao went to assist, but another voice caught her attention.
“Captain Liao, the hostile strike craft—they’ve changed course,” Ling said.
Liao frowned. “What’s their current vector?”
“They’re… they’re moving towards the Broadsword and her escorts.”
Liao swore softly and, out of the corner of her eye, saw Summer’s ashen face turn to look at her. Unable to spare her a glance, Liao stepped over to Ling’s console, her hand on the back of his chair.
“Time to intercept, Mister Ling?”
“Four minutes, Captain.”
Four minutes. A lot could happen in four minutes. Against one of these ships, the Sydney and the Beijing had suffered heavy damage, and the Tehran had ended the battle by ramming it. That was with surface batteries for support and home field advantage.
Now it was just the Beijing, alone and deep in hostile territory.
“Mister Peng, scramble all our strike craft and gunships. Instruct them to escort our wayward birds all the way in. Give them whatever fire support we can. Mister Dao, set in an intercept course. We’ll meet them halfway.”
There was a tense moment where the Beijing’s strike craft and the Toralii vessel’s ships raced to meet the returning Broadsword. Liao glanced over to Summer’s console. The redhead was staring at the radar screen, nibbling on her lower lip. They all felt the same way.
Liao watched the radar screen as the swarm of dots that was their strike craft raced towards the hostile contacts.
Ling spoke up. “The radar signals have merged, Captain. They’re engaged.”
There was nothing they could do—they were too distant for fire support—except push their engines to the limit, trying to reach the fighters without overshooting. Liao straightened her shoulders, nodding to her communications officer. “Mister Hsin, patch us into the strike group’s communications.”
The voices of the strike group pilots filled the cramped Operations room. Liao recognized the energetic but clear Israeli-accented voice of Alex.
“Predator, Jazz – we’re engaged defensive over here! Six contacts, bearing one sixty by zero eight four. Butcher is covering Switchblade while I run interference.”
“Jazz they’re firing again. Break left!”
Liao studied the radar screen as much as she was able, but it was just a sea of signals with no clear identification who was friend or foe. She had to extrapolate what she could from the jumbled fragments of conversation she was hearing.
“Switchblade, this is Predator. Splash one!”
A surge of adrenaline coursed through her. Their new strike craft were providing effective cover for the Broadsword; a glance at the long-range radar screen showed that the Beijing would reach the Broadsword before the unidentified Toralii cruiser.
“Butcher, Switchblade; splash two. Defensive screen engaged. All gunners report contact.”
The Broadsword gunships were essentially squat armoured boxes covered in heavy cannon turrets with engines stuck on the end. Aside from surface landings and tactical deployment of Marines, they were designed to protect the main ship and provide fire support against overwhelming opposition.
In short, they were fighting in their element. The combat devolved into snippets of disconnected dialogue, which Liao tried in vain to follow.
“Jigsaw, Butcher–missiles away.”
“This is Jazz. Splash three!”
“Damnit, I can’t shake him!”
“Too close for missiles–I’m moving to cannons.”
“Fuck, he nearly flew into me!”
“I got him–no, wait, I lost him. Jazz, look out behind you! Seven o’clock high, coming in fast!”
Then, above the noise, a panicked shout came over the radio. “Switchblade, Switchblade, this is Predator–Jazz is hit!”
Liao reached down and put the short-range communication headset over her ears and thumbed the talk key. “Predator, Beijing actual. Report status of Major Aharoni.”
The voice of an unknown pilot, another Israeli, shouted in her ear so loudly she nearly yanked the headpiece off.
“Jazz is hit–he’s hit bad! Smoke is pouring from his starboard thruster and he’s in a dead spin, floating out of the combat. His Wasp is venting atmosphere!”
Liao squeezed the talk key. “Major Aharoni, this is Beijing actual. Report status immediately.”
There was a split second of absolute silence, and Liao’s eyes met Summer’s, her face drained of colour. She stood up from her console on shaky legs, halfway between her seat and Liao.
“This is Jazz.” Alex’s dazed, groggy voice came faintly through the radio. “They got me good, Captain. No lateral thrusters, no reactionless drive. Venting atmosphere like a bitch.”
Summer exhaled, looking for a moment as though she would fall over. Many voices followed the report.
“Jazz, eject, eject, eject!”
“Alex, punch out! You’re on fire!”
“Flight Lead, flames are moving up your starboard side, bail out!”
“Beijing, this is Predator. Major Aharoni has ejected. He’s clear. Vitals are clean, no breaches in his suit.”
Summer let out a joyous shout, pumping her fist in the air. From around Operations, the mood immediately brightened with soft cheers, fists thumped on consoles, laughter, and congratulations.
But not from Liao.
Kamal moved beside her, gesturing to Peng. “Mister Peng,” he said, “dispatch search and rescue immediately–get our SAR Broadsword to our pilot’s location.”
Liao didn’t wait for Peng to reply to Kamal. “Mister Peng, assuming our current course is held, time until the Beijing is within weapons range of the Toralii cruiser?”
Peng, confused, shook his head. “Six minutes, but—”
“Time to dispatch the SAR bird, retrieve our pilot, and return to the Beijing?”
Suddenly, the meaning of her words became clear, and a hush fell over the room.
“Ten minutes, ma’am. At best speed and assuming nothing goes wrong.”
Four minutes. If they stayed, the Toralii would have at least four minutes to fire on the Beijing. He was a tough ship, but the amount of damage those cruisers could bring to bear was staggering. Liao stood, hands on her hips, taking a breath then slowly letting it out. She looked at Kamal, who merely returned her stare. They both knew what the rational choice was.
Summer took a step forward. “Captain, you’re not seriously considering—”
Liao turned her gaze towards the engineer. “I’m considering nothing. There’s no other choice to be made here. We’ve got no time.”
The triumphant jubilation Summer had displayed moments ago melted away. Liao could see the colour drain from her face. She held her hands out, and they shook slightly.
“C-Captain, please. He’s still alive.”
“I know.”
“If you leave him here, the Toralii will take him captive. They’ll make him their prisoner. You know what Ben said. They’ll torture him!”
“I know, Summer.” Liao narrowed her eyes at the redhead. “I am acutely aware of what the Toralii Alliance does to its prisoners.”
Kamal handed her the internal communications headset. “Captain, I have the SAR Broadsword Archangel on the line. They are requesting to speak to you directly.”
She cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. The short-range communications set was removed and the internal one put in its place.
“This is Liao, I’m kind of busy at the moment, gentlemen. Make it fast.”
Surprisingly, the voice that came back was female. Liao was not aware she had any female pilots. They must have come onboard with the Broadswords. She felt a sudden sting of guilt that she had not met them yet.
“Copy that, Captain Liao. This is Lieutenant First Class Medola. Ma’am, my crew and I request permission to launch, execute a hot extraction, and retrieve Major Alex Aharoni.”
She admired their tenacity. “You understand, Lieutenant, that the situation is extremely perilous and your recovery may be difficult? Even if the pilot is still alive, a fact we have not yet confirmed.”
The reply was immediate. “Affirmative, Captain.”
“And you understand that I cannot risk my ship for a single pilot or even a single gunship. If the Beijing is in peril, I will be forced to withdraw to the Lagrange point and execute an emergency jump. You understand this?”
Again, there was no delay. “Understood.”
“And you understand that in that very likely event, your recovery will be impossible?”
The pilot’s voice became agitated. “We’re wasting time, Captain. My crew and I know the risks, but we never leave a man behind.”
“Standby.”
Summer, her freckled face streaked with tears, clutched her hands together in front of her… “Captain, please!”
