Torchship Captain

by Karl K Gallagher

  Lian bounced through the door. The first glance at her was enough to banish his worries.

  “It’s nothing serious, then,” he said.

  She failed to keep from smiling. “Oh, it’s very serious.”

  Lian unrolled her datasheet over her belly. It displayed a hologram of her innards, highlighting two spots in her womb. “It’s twins.”

  Speechless, he swept her up and twirled her through the room, kissing her deeply. Then put her down soft as a caress.

  “Oh, my,” he finally said. “I’d always wanted kids, but—” She interrupted him with another kiss.

  During all the smooching the sober, analytic, mathematical part of his mind had been working. It produced a probability estimate.

  Guo broke loose. “Are you on fertility drugs?”

  “What? No, no, of course not.” Since they’d been sleeping together Lian had abandoned her smooth professional façade and let her emotions show openly. Now she tried to put the work face back on but couldn’t manage to lie convincingly.

  “Those bastards. It’s bad enough they ordered you to fuck me, but ordering you to get pregnant on top of that? It’s inhuman.”

  “They didn’t order me!”

  “Bullshit. You’re an intelligence officer, assigned to monitor me, and seducing me was part of that.”

  “I volunteered.” A tear fell from one eye.

  “What? They sent out a notice looking for someone to fuck a Disker?”

  “No. It was handled just like an arranged marriage. I had your full portfolio. Family history, career, your poems. It was the frog poem that decided me. ‘If my shadow inspires great fear, I must place my feet gently.’ I read that and I knew you’d never hurt me.” Both her cheeks were streaked with tears.

  “Master Su kept that? I told him to throw it away.”

  “He had it copied onto the bridge to the shrine island.”

  “I wrote that in ten minutes. I’d been meditating on the island and when I stood up—never mind. The poem doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m already married to Michigan.”

  “That marriage isn’t valid under Harmony law.”

  “It’s damn well valid to me!”

  Lian sat on the edge of the bed and bent over, crying into her hands.

  Guo turned toward the door. He could walk out on Lian. He didn’t move. He couldn’t abandon his children. He sat on the bed next to Lian. Pulled her close. “It’ll be all right,” he whispered. “It’ll be all right.”

  What am I going to do?

  ***

  Ambassador Kwan strode into the Council chamber, projecting dignity and confidence. He’d abandoned Confucian robes for his Demeter-made suit, a subtle reminder of a world lost to the Betrayers then recaptured.

  This room didn’t have the round table the Elders used for their working meetings. They sat on an elevated bench, a low wall barricading them from lesser beings. Nine faces frowned down like the judges of a treason trial.

  He stopped on the red flower woven into the carpet, as requested by the protocol director. His bow was that of an equal. He represented the other half of the Fusion.

  Daifu Ping opened the meeting, as the minister for dealing with outsiders. “Guo Kwan has come to hear our judgement on the proposal he carries from the self-called Committee for Public Safety.”

  Guo kept his face still. The phrasing was ominous.

  The council looked to Elder Wang as their oldest member. The philosopher said, “This proposal would create shelters for evil. Any participating organization could practice whatever immorality it liked, abuse its people without limit, and subvert its neighbors. Human relations must be organized on a foundation of a moral code. This has no moral code. Where its foundation should be is only vacuum.”

  “The provisions on information and currency flow seem designed to prevent enforcement of morality,” said Minister Yang. “Toxic media may be sent to children. Criminals will have full access to the rewards of violating borders with prohibited substances or perverse services.”

  Admiral Chang’s voice was harsh as cold gravel. “The proposal would lead to human cultures diverging while being in intimate interaction. The friction between such different societies will lead to inevitable war.”

  “In short,” said Ping, “the Council of Elders of the Harmony rejects your proposal.”

  “What is your alternative?” said Guo, maintaining his dignity.

  “We have already sent our terms. They were carried on your ship.”

  “That . . . that’s not a peace treaty. The Anglophone Fusion worlds won’t accept it. And the Disconnected Worlds would be drawn into the war as well. Your . . . terms . . . amount to a declaration of war against the Disconnect.”

  Admiral Chang snorted. “As if war with the Disconnect would matter. All their ships are deep in non-human space.”

  Guo let a little anger into his voice. “Yes. While those spacers fight for all of humanity you intend to attack their homes.”

  Ping waved the admiral to silence. “Ambassador, we will prepare our formal response for you to carry back. I urge you to prepare arguments for both the CPS and the Disconnect. If they accept our terms humanity can combine against the Betrayers under the Harmony’s guidance. Please enjoy our hospitality as you wait.”

  Guo nodded, turned, and walked out.

  I’ve failed.

  ***

  Guo woke well before dawn. He slid gently out of the bed to not disturb Lian. She’d been sleeping more heavily now that she was pregnant but he wanted to be careful. Dressing went as quiet as he could manage. Simple clothes, sturdy shoes.

  He stood in the door a moment watching her sleep. When she found he’d escaped it would break her heart. But as much as he loved her, he missed Mitchie more. It was time to go home to his wife.

  Starlight was enough to let him find the road. The tourist trips they’d wasted his time with had left him with a good feel for the local roads. The spaceport was southwest of here. He started walking.

  Getting there would take all day this way, but he suspected taking a vehicle on his own would bring down some polite intelligence operatives to return him to Lian.

  The air was cool enough that sunrise was a relief. Guo took a moment to be glad he didn’t have to do this walk with the sun in his eyes.

  His one regret was not having a canteen for the hike. Doing late night strolls around the compound could look like exercise or stress reduction. Packing for a trip would have tipped off his spies.

  A couple of hours later he was damn thirsty. Making good time though. The Tiantan roads actually had milestones, just too small to read at the speeds he'd been passing them. Spaceport by sundown seemed practical if he could keep this pace.

  “Hey! This is a vehicle route! What are you doing here?” A policeman on a one-seat trike pulled up next to him.

  Guo stopped and gave the cop a friendly wave.

  “Oh! Ambassador Kwan! Please forgive my rudeness. I did not recognize you.” The cop hopped off the trike and stood nearly at attention.

  “It's all right, son. Were you ever in combat?” ‘Son’ was a stretch but it seemed the best way to reinforce his rank.

  “Ah, no, sir.”

  “I was. I had a bad night, wanted to walk off the dreams until I was fit company for people again.”

  “Sir . . . we’re fifteen kilometers from Elder’s Rest.”

  Guo laughed. “Well, that explains why I’m feeling better. A walk can do your soul good.”

  “Of course, sir. Would you like a lift back? I can call an enclosed car if you don’t want to ride on the back of my scooter.”

  “That’s tempting. What I’d really like is some cold water, do you have any?”

  “Yes, sir.” The cop bent over and unlatched a metal thermos.

  Guo took it. The cylinder had a solid heft, it had to be full. “What’s that structure over there?” He pointed at a fish processing shed by the Dragonfly River.

  The cop turned t
o look. “I’m not sure. It belongs to—”

  Straight-arming the thermos into the cop’s head was a weak blow, but it stunned him enough to let Guo get in a solid swing to the same spot by the ear. The cop collapsed.

  Guo unlatched the equipment belt from the unconscious body. He was still breathing, to Guo’s relief. The plasma pistol slid out. He quickly destroyed the cop’s handcomm, then the antennas attached to the trike.

  The vehicle said, “Warning, contact with Traffic Control lost. Only manual operation available.”

  He pocketed the weapon. Sitting in the trike showed him a control wheel and a mix of levers and pedals. Not too different from the analog forklift he’d used back on the Jefferson Harbor. The big pedal almost shot him into the rice paddy flanking the road. With a little practice he was speeding down the road faster than he’d ever gone on the ground before.

  With luck he’d get to the spaceport before Intelligence or Order Enforcement realized what had happened. Lots of luck.

  Luck, or some devious plot by Intelligence, was with him. Several autocars went past him going the other way, dodging to the edge of the road to escape the hazard of a manual operator. Porttown came into view, a collection of warehouses and low-class entertainment joints.

  He slowed down to not kill any pedestrians, trying to find the quickest route to the port proper. He recognized one man by type, though he couldn't remember the name. "Hey, Rollo spacer!"

  The warship crewman turned. “What? Oh! Mr. Ambassador. What’s up?”

  “Need to get out of here. Got your handcomm?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Call the ship, tell them I said to recall all crew and prep for immediate lift. Jump on board.”

  The spacer made his call standing on the trike’s rear bumper and hanging onto the roll bars. The gate to the spaceport had a turnpike and guard, but the guard was napping and the bar rose automatically on recognizing an emergency vehicle.

  The spacer yelled, “Skipper says they’re ready to go but a third of the crew is on the port, sir!”

  “Good! We may not have time to get everyone though.”

  The destroyer was on the far side of the open expanse of concrete. Two freighters were offloading cargo but they weren’t blocking his path. Guo pressed the pedal harder.

  A bunker at the side of the port opened. A streak of light flashed out as it fired a hypervelocity missile. The weapon struck Walking Rollo a third of the way from the bow. A blast ripped apart the hull, throwing burning metal across the spaceport and into the town.

  The blast scorched Guo’s hands and face. He braked to a stop. The spacer fell off and rolled.

  As the smoke cleared he could see the bottom of the ship still sitting, the propellant tanks exposed where the hull had peeled away. Water poured down the side of the wreck from a breach in one tank. The converter room was ripped away—only its fireproof floor was visible.

  There couldn’t have been any survivors.

  To his shame, the loss he felt most was the letters he’d written to Mitchie, waiting for him to come and deliver them.

  A medic came by for triage. The spacer had a broken arm and was taken away. Guo merely received a look.

  He stayed sitting on the trike, looking at the wreckage.

  At last Daifu Ping arrived. “An excellent attempt, Ambassador Kwan. I didn’t think you’d get this far. Unfortunately that meant we had to react hastily to secure the situation. We’re far from done with you.”

  He paused as if waiting for Guo to say something. After a minute he said, “Come, let’s get you back to your family.”

  Guo followed him to the waiting autocar.

  Capitol City, Pintoy, gravity 9.4 m/s2

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Madam Chairwoman,” said Admiral Bachak.

  “Please, call me Guen. Civilian leadership should be informal. Have a seat, Admiral.”

  Bachak waited for Mitchie and Guen to choose their seats before taking a spot in the little conversation nook in Guen’s office.

  “So, Fleet Commander, what can I do for you today?” asked Guen.

  Mitchie answered, “I’d like you to meet your new fleet commander. Admiral Bachak has an excellent combat record and performed best in a series of exercises against other candidates. I strongly recommend the Committee appoint him to the post.”

  Guen poured tea for herself and her guests. “I have no objection, but getting that through the Committee would be hard. We’re still repairing some of the damage from the coup attempt. I’m certain Admiral Bachak had nothing to do with that, but just saying ‘admiral’ upsets some of the committee members.”

  “Well, I have no desire to offend the Committee for Public Safety,” said Bachak quickly.

  “We do need someone in command who can make decisions in combat,” stated Mitchie.

  Guen took a sip of her teacup. “You’ve been in combat.”

  “I’ve commanded one ship in a fight. Okay, once a handful of ships. But I don’t know fleet tactics.”

  “Surely you’ve had some training in it.”

  “I had one class at the Academy. I was so bad I broke into the instructor’s office to get a copy of the final.”

  Admiral Bachak gasped. Mitchie glared at him. He knew about her history of murder, torture, and rape by fraud, but this shocked him? “Lying, stealing, and cheating are skills. They need practice to achieve proficiency.”

  “For your duty, yes,” he said. “But to get a perfect grade on a test?”

  “I got an 81. The provost complimented me on studying hard and let me sign up for useful classes.” She turned back to Guen. “When the fleet is in combat we need someone in charge who can make decisions instantly, not confer with staff to get options.”

  “I see the problem,” said the politician, “but we need to keep everyone reassured that the Navy is under civilian control. Can’t you delegate the authority to one of your staffers?”

  “The authority needs the title to go with it. Or I’ll have every squadron and flotilla commander who doesn’t like his orders complaining to me instead of executing the plan.”

  “Ma’am.” Bachak seemed to aim that at both them. “If the title is an issue, we could create a new one. Operational Deputy Commander, say. That would be someone holding command in combat. And we can make an Administrative Deputy to control the support elements we’re leaving behind.”

  Guen looked to Mitchie.

  “That solves most of my problems,” she said. “Would the Committee accept it?”

  “Yes. Just mention it in your weekly report, they’ll think it’s another routine reshuffle.”

  “What problems are unsolved, Commander?” asked Bachak. He rode the edge of whether he was referring to her post as his superior or her Space Guard rank, half a dozen grades below his.

  “I want to be back on my own ship, not the damn flagship.”

  She’d surprised Bachak again. “The flag quarters on a battleship have to be more comfortable than a freighter.”

  “It’s home for me.” It’s where my husband will go back to when he returns.

  Tiantan, gravity 8.7 m/s2

  Guo woke. Lian was shaking his shoulder. “Please, baobei, get up. Daifu wants to talk to you.”

  He staggered to the bathroom. The mirror display said he’d been asleep for eleven hours. That had let the shock wear off but he was still emotionally numb.

  His feet and legs weren’t numb. They complained about yesterday’s extended hike. Throwing water on his face stung. Guo couldn’t tell if he’d gotten too much sun or if it was a mild burn from being too close to the exploding starship.

  When he emerged four well-dressed men were waiting in the living room. At least he was still getting the higher class of guard. Lian helped him into an ambassador suit, this time conforming to local custom.

  As she fixed his collar Lian whispered in his ear. “Please, don’t make him angry. Just cooperate. Please.”

  Guo nodded in acknowledgement. Her relief
showed she took it as agreement. He didn’t correct her.

  The guards escorted him to Daifu Ping’s office. The older man blanked the top of his desk as they came in. “Guo. I’m glad to see you looking well after your adventure. Please, sit.”

  He waved the guards out. They closed the door behind them.

  Guo studied the bookshelves to avoid looking at Ping. He hadn’t noticed the Chinese translation of Machiavelli before.

  “Your record speaks of bravery, decisiveness, and willingness to use precise violence. I believed it all but it’s not the same as seeing it for myself. That was a very impressive attempt.”

  “How’s the cop?” asked Guo.

  “He’ll be back on duty in two weeks. I took the trouble to explain to his supervisors that we want diplomats to be given excessive trust, to lure you into exposing yourselves. They’ve agreed not to chastise him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I trust that was enough playing boyish games. Will you be an adult now?”

  “I will do my duty.”

  “Then let’s talk about your duty.” Ping sat and stared at him.

  Guo shifted his gaze to a hand-painted landscape to the right of the bookcase.

  Ping continued, “You feel a duty to the human race as a whole. You’re loyal to your homeworld and its Disconnected allies. Your fondness for the Committee for Public Safety seems based on personal friendships rather than their technocratic philosophy, if you can call it that. You’ve entrusted your ship to apprentice mechanics. And then there’s the women you’ve been sleeping with and the children you’ve fathered.”

  “I’m married.”

  “You lusted after the only available woman for twenty light-years, then soothed your conscience with a ceremony only legally recognized in the Disconnected Worlds. The witnesses are dead, scattered, or in Demeter data banks. She’s never changed her path in any way for you.”

  Maintaining the diplomatic pose through that was hard. Guo felt his face reddening, his hands tightening on the arms of the chair.