Torchship Captain

by Karl K Gallagher

  Su put his spoon down. “I don’t know the Locksley story but I’m certain Sponaugle was not much like the Nazarene. We will take control of the schools of Franklin. In two generations they will all be properly instructed in the Master’s teachings.”

  Guo’s tone was cold. “And after a day reciting the proper answers they will go out to the woods, sing Sponaugle’s epic, and murder some official.”

  Lian mustered the courage to intervene. “Ambassador Kwan, your dessert is melting.”

  Master Su looked down to his own bowl.

  Guo picked up his spoon.

  ***

  The Xiasi Chorus was six hundred strong. They rehearsed in the same amphitheater they performed in. Guo and Lian sat in the nearly empty stands with some parents and teachers.

  The complex harmonies stirred his emotions directly. The exultant sopranos sent his pulse racing. The left and right flanks of the chorus waged aural war. Then the baritone tragic aftermath brought grief. Guo wiped his cheeks, startled to find tears flowing.

  The others had all heard it before. After a brief critique from the director the singers dispersed, taking their personal audiences with them. Lian waited with him.

  The assistant director came over to their front row seats. “Mr. Ambassador, thank you for honoring us with your presence. I hope you enjoyed our rehearsal.”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “Shall I arrange tickets for the official performance?”

  “Yes, if my schedule allows.” He cast about for some actual conversation. “Do the soloists rehearse separately?”

  “Soloists?”

  Lian explained, “In the Disconnect, the most skilled member of a chorus will perform the most difficult parts individually.”

  “Ah. No, sir. All members of our chorus perform every part in their range.”

  “And they do it very well,” said Guo. A bit more praise for the chorus let them escape.

  Back in the car Lian said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that would be so hard on you.”

  “It wasn’t hard. Just . . . more powerful than I expected.”

  “Well. I should find something to relax you.” She pulled up the weather display. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to surprise you with. This would be the perfect time for it. But I’m worried about getting you home before the storm breaks.”

  Guo laughed. “I’m not afraid of rain. What is it?”

  “A surprise.” She told the car a street address.

  The destination was a greenhouse. Discreet ideograms labeled it ‘The Scent Garden.’

  “We’re going to look at flowers?” asked Guo.

  “No, they’re not all flowers. Flowers are chosen to look pretty.” Lian led him inside.

  The proctor had to repeat the rules.

  “Blindfolds? Seriously?” demanded Guo. “I thought you were joking.”

  “Mr. Ambassador, to have the full experience one must focus one’s senses. The walkway and railings are perfectly safe to navigate by feel. Every specimen is on the left as you walk.”

  He entered the maze ahead of Lian. The pathway curved to mark the edges. The handrail reinforced where to walk. Textured pads on the railing marked where to lean over to sniff.

  The first was a rosebush. Pressing a button with his toe produced a brief recording confirming the plant’s identity.

  Guo felt Lian lean in to sniff the flowers. Even with her dazzling face hidden he couldn’t help being aware of her. She was far too graceful to bump into him, but his skin felt the breeze of her movement and the heat of her skin hovering just far away to not touch.

  The garden wasn’t all sweet perfume. Some were musky, others bitter. As they moved through the pattern the scents became complex combinations. A glasswort smelled salty, though Guo suspected that might have been the water it sat in rather than the plant.

  Going around a corner Guo took Lian’s hand to keep her from stumbling on the irregular path. It seemed natural to keep holding hands as they went along. The layout encouraged side-stepping. They started flanking each plant and leaning in to sniff it together.

  Being almost cheek to cheek with Lian over plant after plant made Guo notice the scents that weren’t changing: her hair, and skin, and breath. He paused over a weakly scented cactus, trying to pick out what was her and what was her subtle soaps and cosmetics.

  She whispered, “Are you liking this one?”

  The warmth of her breath against his ear sent goosebumps down both his arms. “No, no, just woolgathering.”

  They went through the remaining plants a little faster. He still paid more attention to Lian than the flowers.

  ***

  The Akiak dialect of Mandarin had many words for snow, some stolen from other languages over the objections of traditionalists. Rain was the gentle weather that came after the thaw.

  This left Guo unprepared for the distinctions among ‘rain,’ ‘lots of rain,’ ‘monsoon,’ and ‘typhoon.’ The incoming storm was on the higher half of that scale.

  Lian interrogated the autocar on its stability rating. Only when she was sure it could handle the forecasted winds did she allow it to start back to Elder’s Rest.

  Discussing the Xiasi Chorus and the Scent Garden kept them occupied as sheets of water darkened the sky. The sunset disappeared behind black clouds. The car shivered under the wind but stayed on all four wheels.

  Conversation dragged to halt as it became harder to be heard over the storm. Lightning strikes came often enough to keep them from being bored.

  The autocar had slowed as the storm grew more violent. Now it stopped. The car announced, “Traffic Control has declared erosion around Culvert Carp 57 is now at unsafe levels. Proceeding along alternate route.” The car turned about and retraced its path.

  The next announcement came five minutes later. “Traffic Control has declared erosion around Culvert Carp 54 is now at unsafe levels. Destination is now unreachable.” It kept moving.

  Lian raised her voice to be heard over the wind. “Car, what is the current destination?”

  “We will stop at highest elevation point of accessible roadway. Emergency Management has been notified.” Pause. “Emergency Management requests priority for rescue.”

  Lian flashed a smile barely visible in the glow of the dashboard. “Tell them your rank and they’ll send out a convoy of tracked construction vehicles.”

  Guo scoffed. “Low priority,” he ordered.

  The wind eased off. The rain came down harder. The front had passed over, putting the heart of the storm over them. Guo could feel the temperature dropping as cold air flowed in.

  The lightning was gone, or at least out of sight. Flickers to the east showed someone else was getting the show.

  The car declared, “Contact with Traffic Control lost. Initiating emergency shutdown.” The dashboard lights went out.

  It wasn’t hard to talk over the storm now. “I’m glad I leaned my seat back already,” said Lian.

  “Me, too.”

  She turned over and began feeling about in the back. “I should check what we have in the emergency kit. Four water bottles. Some emergency food bars.”

  “Tasty?” asked Guo.

  “Hell, no. The storm will be long gone before we’re hungry enough to eat this stuff. And . . . oops.”

  “What?”

  “I used the emergency blanket for that picnic last week. I forgot to replace it.”

  “You didn’t put it back?”

  “It had bugs on it.”

  Guo laughed.

  “Fine, give me the lecture about how the Disconnected Worlds are so poor you can’t afford to waste anything.”

  “Don’t need to. I’m surprised your weather engineers let the storm grow so violent.”

  “The ecologists insist on it. Heavy rains wash away silt and dead plants and such. This was only a three-year storm. If it was a twenty-year one I’d have kept us inside playing cards.”

  She sounded distracted. Her normal to
ur guide spiels were ten times as long.

  “Guo?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m cold.” The words were shaky, as if she was suppressing a shiver.

  “Um . . . do we need to share warmth?” He turned onto his side.

  She slid between the seats. She turned onto her left side to match him and pressed her back against his chest.

  Guo put his arm around her, his hand accidentally, mostly, landing on her breast. “Oh, sorry.”

  “It’s all right. I’m cold there too.” She laid her arm on top, locking his in place. Her bottom pressed firmly against his erection. Her legs slid against his.

  He took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing pulse. He was immensely attracted to Lian. That pull combined with a push from enormous frustration. Life with Mitchie made him accustomed to frequent sex. When he was away from her he’d take measures to relieve himself. On Tiantan he was inhibited by the surveillance. He didn’t want some agent writing a report on his nighttime habits. Or worse, Lian reading it.

  This left his body aching to take Lian right now.

  Guo’s mind still had control.

  He thought through the situation. Trapped together, with privacy, after a tour that had them pressed close together. Two bridges out with perfect timing to strand them. Topped by the detail-obsessed Lian sabotaging their emergency kit.

  Logically this had to be a premeditated seduction. Or an attempt to provoke him into seducing her. Which would compromise his diplomatic mission.

  His hand gently squeezed her breast. He didn’t care about his mission right now.

  Guo thought about Mitchie. She’d used this exact technique against her collection targets. She’d given him advice on dealing with it. But what came to mind was her advice for this trip. “If they set a trap for you, fall for it. If you avoid it the next one will be nastier.”

  He lifted himself on his elbow. Lian rolled onto her back at his nudge. He lowered his lips to her. She returned the kiss warmly. Her hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close. His free hand slid up and down her curves.

  Guo broke the kiss to take a breath.

  Lian said, “Yes.”

  He exposed her skin to the cold air. She didn’t complain. His own clothes were cast to the floor. His body was in command.

  Lian slid her hands along his back, encouraging his passion. There was only one moment of resistance. “Ow. Keep going, I’m fine.” Then she wrapped her arms and legs around him and matched her rhythm to his.

  Chapter Seven: Preparation

  Don John Station, Pintoy System, centrifugal acceleration 10 m/s2

  Admiral Wing’s staff was brilliant. He had every graphic needed to display the exact state of the fleet’s logistics chain. If Mitchie asked about a particular squadron’s fuel or ammunition a few gestures would bring up a picture with precise numbers on her office’s display wall.

  She was less sure of whether he could function without the staff propping him up. If his only talent was gathering good staffers to him he’d be well suited to stay in his post as Chief of Logistics. Mitchie needed to know if he could cope making time critical decisions as a fleet commander in combat.

  Because God knew she wasn’t up to that job.

  As the briefing wrapped up she asked, “What did you think of the last fleet exercise?”

  Wing chuckled. “It was great comedy.”

  Mitchie wiggled her fingers to invite him to continue.

  “Neither fleet commander had a firm control of their forces. Tholson did better, she at least had clear objectives marked, but Danners completely lost control. He gave them reference vectors, nobody knew what their offsets should be, and he nearly had whole squadrons pluming each other.”

  “If Tholson's approach was that much better, why was it a draw?”

  Wing came around Mitchie’s desk and sat on the corner. “It wasn't enough control to keep everyone operating as a fleet. Instead it collapsed into individual squadron-on-squadron engagements. Again.”

  She leaned away from him in her chair, feeling a little crowded even though he was technically outside her personal space. Wing was tall, one of the tallest Chinese men she’d ever worked with. “And you would have?”

  “Laid out vectors for every squadron and ship. A captain’s job is to keep his ship on the rails, not to chase after his own ideas. It takes solid staff work on the flagship, but I have some people in mind.”

  “I’ll look forward to seeing your turn in the fleet exercises.” She scooted her chair back a little.

  Wing slid closer. “Would you like to go get a drink? I’ll stand you a round in the Club . . . or I have some lovely brandy in my quarters, if you’d like to give it a try.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “You’re in a very stressful job, Fleet Commander Long. You need to make sure you relax sometimes. Take some personal maintenance time.”

  Is he really doing this? “I appreciate your concern.”

  The admiral leaned in and laid his hand on top of hers. “I do want to take care of you. You’re an impressive woman.”

  “I'm also a married woman. So no.” She pulled her hand into her lap.

  “Yes, married to a man who’s been making a friend in high places.”

  Well, shit. I told Guen she should only do it on the ship, otherwise she'd be caught. She should try to find out how the secret of the affair had made its way to Wing. Suddenly she felt a flicker of attraction for the admiral. No. Not while I’ve got this job.

  Mitchie turned out of the chair, putting it between it between them. “My husband is a wonderful man. You are not.”

  Wing stayed on the desk. “If you give me a chance, you’ll find I’m better than you think. And you’ve been lonely and stressed. It’s not what you’re used to.”

  “Since you’ve been following my record, you know I’ve had enough men to hold me for the rest of my life. My husband is one of the best of them. You give every sign of coming in at minus one sigma.”

  That he didn’t have an answer to.

  Mitchie thought a moment. “Did you hear about the captain of the heavy cruiser Salamis?”

  “Yeah. Blew out a valve, is going to be grounded for three months while they grow him a new heart and test it out.”

  “That’s the one. Salamis needs an experienced captain. Report aboard and take command.”

  “That’s a slot for a captain, not a rear admiral!”

  “Yes. You’ll need to stop by the uniform shop and get your stripes corrected. Dismissed, Captain.”

  Tiantan, gravity 8.7 m/s2

  The orderly grid of people became chaos as the dawn workout ended. Guo stood still for a minute, clearing his head of the group high and focusing on his personal mission.

  Lian looked back, surprised he wasn’t following her to the breakfast table. He gave her a wave and walked into the crowd.

  His target wasn’t the only one wearing military PT clothes, but the aides were obviously younger. They made way as Guo approached. “Good morning, Admiral Chang.”

  “Good morning, Ambassador Kwan. Are you well?”

  “Yes, the exercises are always invigorating. I understand you’ve taken the time to read the proposal I brought.”

  “I have.” The admiral glanced at the display embedded in his left wrist. “I look forward to discussing it with the other Elders.”

  “I trust you will remind them of the importance of humanity cooperating against our common enemies. As we speak spacers are dying in battle with the Betrayers. They need reinforcements. To destroy those reinforcements in battle against other humans would be a tragedy.”

  “All deaths are tragedies, Ambassador. Thank you for your words.”

  “Good day, Admiral.”

  Chang strode off, dragging his aides in his wake.

  Guo strolled toward Lian. If they won’t meet with me as a group I can track them down one at a time.

  ***

  The aft
ernoon sun snuck through the gap in the curtains and crept up Guo’s pillow. When it reached his eyes he rolled over to escape, landing on Lian.

  “Hey,” she protested.

  “Sorry, sun woke me.”

  By the way her arm wrapped around him she didn’t need the apology. He embraced her in return.

  Voices from the next room distracted him from the snuggle. “Who’s that?”

  Lian said, “That’s episode seven of Magistrate Chang Investigates. We’re supposed to be introducing you to the popular side of Revivalist culture.”

  He chuckled. “Is that really going to fool anyone?”

  “Hell, no. It lets them pretend to be fooled. It’s politer.”

  “Okay. As long as we’re being polite . . . please?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  ***

  Like most worlds, Tiantan celebrated the day its first settlers landed. Lian and Guo were at the beach to watch a fireworks display. Hot food and cold beer flowed freely. Children ran along the edge of the waves, shrieking when the cold water wet their feet.

  As with all things on Tiantan the fireworks were beautiful. Multicolored explosions didn’t form mere globes and stars. They became flowers and dragons flying down toward the crowd. The climax was a battle between a tiger and dragon. Each wave of rockets was a frame of the animation. After a fierce struggle the two beasts strode away from each other, each holding its head up as the victor.

  When the cheers and applause died down everyone realized they had room for more food and converged on the tables. Guo led Lian away from the crowd, up the slope to the levee.

  She giggled. “Honey, we’re not teenagers. We don’t need to sneak off in the dark to make out.”

  “I like that idea, but it’s not what I had in mind. I want to take a look at the levee. It’s been bothering me.”

  “What’s the matter with it? It keeps the rice paddies from flowing into the sea.”