by Adams, David
Despite the sudden onset of a foul mood, Liao felt a sudden surge of energy at the news. It was possible, after all, that James was aboard that ship, and she was mere moments away from hearing his voice again.
She straightened her back, nodding to Hsin. “Open communications.”
There was a faint crackle as Hsin spoke into his headset. “TFR Sydney, this is the TFR Beijing. Welcome back.”
A voice, female and speaking in Australian-accented English, answered. “Beijing, this is the Sydney. Mission accomplished. We recovered nineteen workers from the colony and we’d like to transfer them to the Beijing while we conduct repairs. Following that, we believe it best to split them between our ships until more permanent lodgings can be found. Accordingly, we request permission to dock.”
Hsin glanced to Liao, and she nodded her immediate acceptance.
“Permission granted, Sydney. We’ll have a team meet you in the umbilical.”
Another strong surge of energy bubbled from within Liao, but she focused her effort on keeping it well hidden. She knew that, even when so close to her goals, she had to temper the thrill of success with patience. Running a marathon only to trip on the last hundred metres was not a productive way to spend one's time. A task was only complete when it was complete. Premature celebrations cheapened the result. Mustering all of her patience, she waited until the communication channel was closed, then casually nodded to Kamal. “Commander, I’ll meet the team in the airlock. You have the ship until I return.”
Iraj smiled knowingly. “Of course. Good luck, Captain.”
* * *
Docking Umbilical
TFR Beijing
Liao hurried towards the midsection of the ship and the docking umbilical, her feet thumping on the deck as she sped through the various sections. In deference to her rank, the crew gave her room to walk without hindrance, but she felt as though every minor delay, every obstruction, was intolerable.
She knew that even if James was there, the mission to assault Cenar and recover the Tehran would still go ahead. The likelihood that James was among the nineteen recovered persons was low, but for some reason, she felt as though her luck was about to change. It had been so poor for so long that things could only go up.
Liao arrived at the docking umbilical before the Sydney was ready to dock. Frustrated with the wait, she silently berated herself for rushing all the way there.
Through the round porthole on the Beijing’s airlock, Liao saw the faint speck that was the Sydney closing to dock. She watched as it grew larger and larger, a slight frown of displeasure crossing her face as she took in its freshly battle-scarred hull.
But there appeared to be no major breaches. It was nice to have a win every now and then, even if she hadn’t been present for it.
The hulls of the two great ships kissed and the docking bridge was extended, making its seal with a faint hiss. Liao watched as the Sydney’s Marines opened the hatch, creating a walkway between the two ships. They stepped between the threshold of their own ship and the Beijing, walking with a number of individuals wearing the tattered remains of the uniform of the Iranian Navy.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain.”
“Granted, Marine.”
Liao stepped out of the way, watching carefully as the faces of the Tehran crewmen walked past her, gaunt and dirty, but laughing and chatting with the Marines from the Sydney. She took careful note of their condition: malnourished, scarred, unwashed, but alive. The uniform of a petty officer. The uniform of a junior officer. The uniform of a midshipman.
Eleven of the nineteen passed her without a sign of James. Walking behind them, Captain Matthew Knight gave Liao a nod as he boarded her ship.
“Seven of the nineteen remain in our infirmary, Captain. They’ll be along shortly.” To answer her unspoken question, Knight held up his hand.
“We didn’t find James among them. I’m sorry.”
Liao closed her eyes for a moment, letting all the excitement and hope she had summoned drain out of her. She’d known it would be hoping for too much, that she was running the risk of building herself up too high, then something like this would bring her crashing down.
“Very well,” she offered, bobbing her head slightly. “It was to be expected.” She gestured to the retreating backs of the crewmen. “Have they been debriefed?”
“Not properly,” Knight said. “A few questions here or there. We were running all the way to the jump point. There wasn’t much time for chatter.”
Liao nodded, motioning for Knight to follow her. “Let’s head to the infirmary to get these men checked out. We can talk as we walk. I know you want to get back to your ship, but at least give me a brief rundown of what happened.”
Knight fell into step with her. “Very well, Captain. We arrived at the jump point and transmitted our demands to the Toralii. The outpost, which was significantly outgunned, put up a bit of a fight but we forced them to run. We lost one of our fighters, but the pilot ejected safely and was picked up by our SAR craft."
“Is he okay?”
Knight gave a playful smile. “He'll have a hell of a scar, but that won't bother Magnet much. He's got more than his fair share already.”
Liao reached up to adjust her hat. “Good. What happened after you recovered your wayward pilot?”
"Well, after the Toralii fighters bugged out, we began the process of liberating the slaves. Some were almost too sick to move, but we got all of our people out in the end. However, as we were preparing to debrief those who were well enough to talk, a Toralii scout ship jumped in. We ran a fighting retreat to the Lagrange point, and here we are.”
She nodded, the next words tumbling out of her mouth. “And is there any word of James?”
Knight’s tone was even. “I knew you would want news, so I asked the prisoners about him. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty.”
“Not at all. What did they say?”
Liao saw there was a sad, sympathetic edge to Knight’s smile as he stopped in the corridor, letting her move ahead of him before she stopped as well, turning to face the Australian Captain.
“They said he was badly wounded in the battle. There was not much they could tell me, but his wounds were not fatal. When the Tehran jumped away, the Toralii had boarders throughout the ship in minutes, taking prisoners and shutting off her systems. Nobody knows what happened to him.”
Liao’s heart clenched in her chest as Knight continued. “I’m sorry, Captain. From what they were telling me, there’s little hope the Toralii would keep a slave in that condition alive.”
She shook her head forcefully, sucking in air through her nose. “No. James is strong. If he was injured, he’d find a way to make them keep him. Even if he couldn’t work, he’s a naval captain. he’s worth a lot to them for intelligence. There’s no way they’d just ex- execute him.”
Knight took a step forward, gently resting his large hand on her shoulder. “Captain. Melissa. You know how the Toralii Alliance extracts information from their captives. You wouldn’t want that fate for him. Neither of us would.”
She knew. The primary method of information extraction was torture, according to Ben, which was one of the primary reasons that Cenar existed.
“I know. I just… I just want him to be okay.”
Knight released his hand, nodding. “As we both do. We’ll get our chance to find him, don’t worry.”
A thought occurred to Liao. “You mentioned that you rescued nineteen from the colony. Eleven came onboard the Beijing, and seven were in your infirmary.” She crossed her hands. “What happened to the other one?”
Knight took a breath, letting it out slowly. “Well… that other one is currently cooling his heels in our brig.”
Liao tilted her head. “One of the Tehran crew?” She frowned. “Were they cooperating with the Toralii after their imprisonment?”
Knight chuckled. “Not quite. We’re not sure what he is. We can’t communicate with him, but we were
hoping Saara might be able to help us find out if you’ll let us borrow her for a while.”
Intrigued, Liao nodded. “I think we can arrange that. I’d like to come too, if you wouldn’t mind another visitor aboard your ship.”
Knight smiled. “You’re more than welcome, Captain. We’d appreciate your insight.”
* * *
Brig
TFR Sydney
Her arms folded gently across her chest, Liao studied the creature sitting mutely on the bed in the rear of the cell.
The reptilian creature was four feet tall and covered in a thick, rubbery, scaled hide. It had a long snout-like nose, and hands that ended in viciously sharp claws; its balance was supported by a thin, sinuous tail.
It had bright blue, pupil-less eyes that darted around the cell, studying the Humans endlessly. Occasionally, it would clack its jaws together, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. The creature's entire body was covered in rippling muscles, giving it a stocky, broad appearance like an exaggerated linebacker. It wore the remains of a faded uniform that Liao did not recognize.
Saara, however, recognised the species immediately, a heavy frown crossing her furry features the moment she laid eyes upon it.
A Kel-Voran, she informed Liao. A people who, until recently, had warred endlessly with the Toralii Alliance, although they were–for the moment–enjoying an uneasy truce.
A truce that, apparently, did not preclude the taking of slaves.
Saara approached the cell. Many species considered the Telvan dialect to be a useful second language, especially the Kel-Voran. [“Do you speak the Telvan dialect? We are not your enemies, and we are not members of the Toralii Alliance.”]
There was no reply from the creature. Liao could see the intelligence in its eyes; it could see them, and it clearly knew they were trying to talk to it. Its eyes flitted back and forth between Saara and Liao, and as its eyes settled on the Toralii, they narrowed. The creature’s teeth were visible through the gap between its gums. The Kel-Voran's anger was palpable, its source obvious.
Liao laid her hand on the Toralii woman’s shoulder. “Saara, perhaps I should talk to him alone.”
The Toralii woman raised a fur-covered eyeridge. [“But how?”]
Liao knew the Kel-Voran could not understand her. “I can listen, at least. That’s all I need to do right now.”
With a reluctant nod, Saara stepped outside. Liao pulled up a small folding metal stool, set it on the metal deck of the Sydney’s brig, and gingerly slid onto it.
“So,” she said, looking directly at the reptilian creature, “I know you can’t understand me, but the Toralii is gone. It’s just you and me now.”
[“Is it? Or do thy microphones record our words for your study?”]
The Kel-Voran’s voice was thick and raspy, almost hissing as he spoke in the thick, rolling Toralii tongue. Liao had only recently learned the language, but she knew enough to recognise the Kel-Voran's articulation was off. Perhaps it was a very slight variance on the Toralii language, or perhaps its mouth was not well suited to articulating the language, but most startling of all was that it seemed to understand her.
“I- you understand our language? How?”
She felt as though she was talking to Ben again. Did everyone in the galaxy somehow speak English?
[“Nay,”] he said, leaning forward on the bed. [“I cannot understand thy words in the natural sense, but I possess a device–a neural implant–which hast been programmed with the numerous tongues of the void and twist words into a comprehensible form as they enter the mind.”]
It was difficult to explain, but Liao found its accent–even though it was speaking the main Toralii dialect, which she herself was not perfectly proficient with–to be extremely cultured and refined, as though the Kel-Voran had learned the language long ago and had not updated their knowledge to take into account natural changes in the way language was spoken—as though aliens had visited Victorian-era England, learned the language, and departed. She mentally contrasted that idea of learning and knowledge with Saara’s description of them as war-seeking monsters who craved heroic deaths.
The universe was full of opinions and contradictions, she mused, but she had picked up on something in the way it spoke. The Kel-Voran used male pronouns to refer to itself–a concept that did not translate well into English, but which was clear in the Toralii language structure. Liao had learned the Kel-Voran's gender. That was something. It did not seem right to think of another sentient creature as an 'it.'
“Sounds useful,” Liao remarked, giving a polite smile. “How do I get one?”
[“Regrettably, thy physiology cannot accept it; it must be implanted when one is freshly hatched and squealing, and thy species is incompatible with such technology.”]
“I see. That is regrettable.”
The Kel-Voran sprang up from the bed, the sudden motion startling Liao. He paced the floor of the cell, his unblinking cyan eyes locked on Liao, his broad shoulders flexing as he clasped his hands together.
[“My name is Garn, a Starslayer of the Kel-Voran Imperium. What is thy name? The she-bitch called thee her captain. Art thou the commander of this vessel?”]
Liao shook her head. “No, but I do command one that is essentially identical. The TFR Beijing, with whom this ship is docked at the moment.”
The alien stopped his pacing, wheeling around and facing Liao, excitement and wonder painted on his face.
[“The Beijing? Stars alight; art thou Captain Melissa Liao, the Butcher of Kor-Vakkar, The Bringer of Terror, Slayer of Varsian the Immortal? Art thou she, sitting before me?”]
This was the second time that a member of another species had recognised her based on her deeds, and the Kel-Voranian man had given her a truly impressive list of titles. She brushed her uniform absently, nodding. “I commanded the Beijing against the station of Kor-Vakkar, yes. Technically, it was one of my engineers who killed Varsian, though, and I don’t know about the whole ‘Bringer of Terror’ thing.”
The stocky alien stepped up towards the bars, gripping them with his sharp-clawed hands. [“Will wonders never cease.”] A wide grin spread across his face, revealing the thin rows of sharp teeth that lined his maw. [“Thy name echoes throughout the stars, Captain Liao, and word of thy deeds travels far. For the first time in an aeon the Toralii know fear, and it is a joyous thing. May all thy battles be as successful!”]
Liao held up her hand. “We are,” she hesitated, “were on good terms with at least one Toralii group— the Telvan.”
[“Toralii rodents are all the same in my eyes, Captain, but thou art free to pick thy allies as thou wilt.”]
“Indeed.” She took a breath. “My sources tell me the various Toralii factions and the Kel-Voran are at peace. How did you come to be here, Garn?”
The Kel-Voranian shook the bars of his cell, growling. [“My Deathbringer, the Hirakan, mis-jumped and reappeared in space their forces occupied. Those worms, the Toralii Alliance… normally they would forgive this slight, but they are in the process of expanding their mining operations, which are fuelled by slave labour. A prolonged struggle ensued. Many filthy alien heads were claimed and Toralii widows made, but eventually, as thou can see, my crew were overwhelmed and my ship impounded in Cenar. How we wished for death!”]
“I see.” Liao folded her hands in her lap. “What is a Deathbringer?”
[“A Dreadnought-class vessel—a colossal ship. Four hundred thousand tonnes, and equipped with all manner of weapons. The Dreadnoughts were our answer to the Toralii cruisers. Twice as large, and almost a match for them.”]
“Almost?”
The Kel-Voranian gave a low laugh. [“Tonne for tonne, naught can match the Toralii warships. But the Dreadnoughts art formidable still; we art some of the few who can stand against the Toralii and hope for victory.”] The Kel-Voranian man puffed out his chest, his voice booming across the brig. [“And they will learn that the fight has not yet left Garn! I shall requisition a new ship with
a new crew and then, arm in arm with the Butcher of Kor-Vakkar, she and I shall take the fight unto the Toralii! We shall sow such terror in their hearts that the Gods wet themselves recounting our deeds!”]
Liao chuckled, leaning back in her chair and raising an eyebrow. “You presume much,” she observed. “How can we be sure that you’ll work with us?”
He leaned forward, pressing his snout against the bars of his cell and grinning fiercely. [“Wherever thy rage falls upon them, Captain Liao, I will be there. I shall require a new ship, of course, since the Hirakan is forever locked in Cenar. However, if you take me to my people, they will rearm me immediately. Verily I say, they shall clamor to fight at thy side!”]
Liao smiled widely, clasping her hands together in front of her and leaning forward. “Cenar, huh? Well, how about I get you your old ship back?”
Chapter X
“Preparations”
* * *
Operations
TFR Beijing
Liao led Garn into the Operations room, gesturing at the various sections of the room. The creature drew stares from the crew, most of whom had not yet seen him, but there were no incidents.
[“This is thy command centre, is it not?”] he asked, trying to see over the top of one of the Human-sized command consoles.
“Correct,” Liao answered, leading him from the Operations room into her adjoining office. “From here, we give the ship the broad-ranging commands required to make him move. For example, we instruct the reactionless drive–our engines–to move at a certain speed. In most cases these controls are computer controlled, but in a few cases the crew themselves perform secondary orders.”
[“Fascinating. You have so many buttons and controls and crew here; we do not. Our vessels art built to a different philosophy. Our commander dost give the commands, yes, but this can be done from any part of the ship. Frequently the commander doth house himself in a different place every engagement, so as to confuse our enemies and prevent boarding parties from locating him. Almost every section–every corridor, every computer, every construct–is built to receive commands. Our vessels are extremely decentralized.”]
