Torchship Captain

by Karl K Gallagher

  Enough must have leaked through to make Ping abandon that line of argument. “You have an opportunity here. You can join the society you’ve wanted to join, be the philosopher you’ve always wanted to be. Join the Harmony and you’ll have a post at a fine school, publish your writings, have students. Settle down and raise your family.”

  “You think that’s what I want?” Guo laughed. “Master Su invited me to stay after my first visit. I could have bought a ticket here from the Disconnect. I didn’t want to.”

  The realization hit him the way he’d hammered other men’s skulls. “I left a strong traditional family on a world where everyone has to work together to survive. I switched from a big ship to a small one so I could work without a boss hanging over me. Spacers fall into two types, workaholics and those who blow their pay on drink and whores. Instead I read philosophy and go to the opera. I’m a Confucian to be a non-conformist.” The realization left him light-headed. Maybe I shouldn’t have blurted that out.

  That took Ping some time to absorb.

  Guo went back to studying the shelves. The philosophy books all looked new. The history and management ones showed wear.

  “Fine, you’re not a true philosopher,” said Ping. “Let’s be practical. The Harmony will win this war. Your interest is to be on the winning side, and for the war to be as short as possible.”

  Guo leaned back. “Even counting the worlds you’re holding by force the Harmony only has a third of the Fusion. The others are acknowledging the CPS as a temporary successor government and sending their newly produced ships to Pintoy. You’re outnumbered.”

  “You don’t realize how long my colleagues have been working on this. The Fusion Navy squadrons sent on your idealistic crusade against the Betrayers were predominately Anglophone. The Sinophone squadrons were lighter ships with inexperienced crews. All the flag officers sent were Anglophone, to work with the Disconnect’s Anglophone leadership. The Harmony’s fleet is the most experienced of the squadrons remaining. The CPS is still training raw recruits as crews. It will be a massacre.”

  Experiences performing search and rescue on Fusion ships flashed through Guo’s mind. The Sinophone ships had suffered more heavily but he’d dismissed it as random chance at the time. And the survivors were mostly Cantonese speakers, not Mandarin.

  He opted for a flippant reply. “Michigan keeps being on the winning side, regardless of the odds.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed. I’d considered ordering her assassination, but Intelligence sent me an analysis that she was more likely to be killed by a Pintoy faction before they could be in position for the job.”

  Guo’s hands spasmed on the armrests again.

  “But enough about Michigan. Let’s talk about Guenivere Claret.”

  “We kept someone from kidnapping her when she was a passenger on our ship,” Guo answered. “She repaid us by inviting us to her Revelation Ball. Which you know, because you were there.”

  “You’re fucking her.”

  Possible answers flashed through his mind. Claiming fidelity to Mitchie in front of someone who probably had a list of every time he’d screwed Lian wouldn’t work. “No. Famous women attract rumors. You should know better than to believe them.”

  Ping stroked his desk. Its top became a calendar facing Guo. Dates were marked with times and places, and whether Mitchie had been present.

  Put together like that it was a much more active affair than he’d realized. Harmony Intelligence had missed the bed and breakfast by the river but they’d only been there twice.

  A tap on the desk put a picture of them mid-act over the calendar.

  Guo sat back. “Okay, I was fucking her. So?”

  “Adultery and fornication by a leader sets a bad example,” said Ping primly. “But the social fabric on Pintoy is so tattered another rip is barely noticeable. This is minor blackmail or propaganda material. It does increase your value as a hostage somewhat. But what we really need to know is what you talked about.”

  He’d hated pillow talk with Guen. He had to make comforting noises while she complained about unjust executions, factions in the Committee, and insufficient resources to take care of the people and Navy. “We’d just have sex and go home.”

  Ping waved the picture away. His finger landed on an overnight visit. “Fifteen hours? You’re a healthy man, but please.”

  “She’s addicted to an adventure series. Magic Princess Journey.”

  Guo returned a shrug to Ping’s scoff.

  “Have you ever played chess?” asked Ping.

  “Often.” And I’m sure that’s in my file.

  “Some matches go down to only two or three pieces on the board. Others achieve a checkmate after only the loss of a pawn or two, or no pieces at all. War is like that too. It is in your power to decide. Will this be a long bloody war, or swift and decisive?”

  “I have no duty to make your victory easier.”

  “Do you have any duty to those green spacers in their new ships? They could be properly trained and sent against the Betrayers as you wish.”

  “If you care about that, make peace with the CPS and ally with them.”

  Ping shook his head. “We’re too incompatible. War is inevitable. I will not leave to my sons an unpleasant necessity I can do today.”

  “I won’t help you.”

  “Don’t do it for me. Do it for those you love. We are having this conversation because I like you. I want to protect you. I’m already protecting Lian. Security is arguing whether she should be charged with disobeying orders or treason for not reporting your disappearance. I’ve told them to leave her be.”

  “You can’t punish her for that. You ordered her to fall in love with me.”

  “It’s not about punishment. It’s setting an example for other officers.” Ping went on, “I can guarantee Michigan and Guenivere can have peaceful lives after the war. With you, if you like.”

  Guo pressed his jaw closed.

  Ping sighed. He tapped his desk. The guards came in. “If you want my protection again, say so at any time.”

  ***

  The chair was more comfortable than Guo expected. Not actually comfortable. Just hard instead of painful. He could wiggle a little. The straps on shoulders, wrists, hips, and ankles were firm without give. His elbows and knees could move just enough to keep blood flowing in the limbs.

  His head was unconstrained. Not that there was much to see. A simple table and chair awaited the arrival of the interrogator. There was enough room for someone to walk around Guo or the table if he didn’t mind brushing the industrial grey walls.

  The grey paint was fresh. Guo could find no cracks or stains.

  The boredom and isolation were intended to weaken him for interrogation. Mitchie had described how she’d used them in her successful interrogation of an enemy officer. There wasn’t any countermeasure. He’d just have to tough it out.

  From now he’d drink less water on his meal breaks.

  He’d spotted four cameras in the corners of the ceiling. There was no separate sound equipment. Unless it was in the chair. He’d seen a tangle of wires coming out of the back of the chair in the moment between entering the room and being flipped to sit in the chair. Likely that was all medical sensors.

  Guo visualized a control room with conscienceless doctors analyzing the readouts to determine the ideal moment to start the interrogation. Maybe I should panic and get it over with. No. Even if he could work himself into a sincere state, he was too proud to do it.

  The door opened. He kept himself from smiling. Having someone relieve him from isolation sent a wave of relief through him. It focused on the man walking in. Guo’s monkey brain already considered the man a friend. He’d have to fight that.

  The interrogator spread a datasheet out on the table and sat. It was angled enough to keep Guo from seeing the display. “Hello, Mr. Kwan.”

  Guo worked his tongue until his mouth was wet enough to talk. “Ambassadors have diplomatic immunity. They may n
ot be arrested, questioned, or detained.”

  The interrogator had expected that. “There’s no treaty between the Harmony and the Committee for Public Safety. Treating you as an ambassador was just tradition. As your wife has proven, traditions are easily broken.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m here to ask questions, not answer them. Please describe your relationship with Chairwoman Claret.”

  Guo decided silence was a better tactic than any witty response.

  The interrogator waited a few minutes. At least it seemed like minutes.

  “You will be talking to me, Mr. Kwan. I have a wide variety of tools at my disposal and the rest of my life to work on you. This will not end until you’ve told us what you know.”

  The assertion that the interrogator’s time was unlimited rang false for Guo. If they had plenty of time the Harmony would still be stringing him along, trying to seduce him to their side with sex and cultural magnificence. Trying to get the data out of him forcibly implied a deadline. So stalling for time could bring him a small victory.

  “Hurting me would be a precedent you’d regret setting,” said Guo.

  The interrogator tapped his datasheet. Fire scorched Guo’s left forearm. He threw his head back with a cry. The sensation vanished.

  “There, the precedent has been set. We’ll also be setting precedents in sleep deprivation, medications, and intense cold.”

  That sparked honest laughter. “Cold? I’m from Akiak. You hothouse flowers don’t know what cold is. Or what suffering is.”

  “Perhaps not. But we will find out. Trial and error is a tedious but reliable process.”

  “Fine. Make me suffer. I’ve suffered before.”

  “Yes, you have. Your dossier is fascinating reading. You’re often other-motivated. I note that Chang Lian has not experienced true suffering.”

  Guo blurted, “She’s one of your own Security people. And besides, she’s pregnant.”

  The interrogator mimed holding a hypodermic. “It only takes one injection to change that.”

  He’d viewed the interrogator as someone he’d leave behind and forget once he escaped this place. This threat made Guo contemplate returning with murder in his heart. “That is a precedent the Harmony would not want to set. I’m certain you don’t have the authority to do that.”

  “I haven’t asked for it yet. I won’t need to if you talk. Tell me about your relationship with Chairwoman Claret.”

  Guo said nothing.

  The interrogator took a thick pad from the box he’d put under the table. A toss landed it on Guo’s feet. It spread and molded itself to them.

  He felt a chill against the soles of his feet. It spread. Was the device actually cooling him, or just fooling his nerves into reporting cold? The former could mean frostbite. It doesn’t matter. It’s the Fusion. They could cripple my feet, grow me new ones, then destroy the next set. I’ll just have to make them waste the time to do it.

  Chapter Eight: Convergence

  BDS Patton, Boswell System, centrifugal acceleration 10 m/s2

  Admiral Galen studied the ruined world below his orbiting flagship. Lightning flashed among the clouds of dust still filling the atmosphere three weeks after the asteroid punched a hole in the planet’s crust. Well, the terraformers made it livable once, they can do it again.

  He looked around his flag bridge. It was only half manned. His other staffers were resting or loaned out to help with repair work.

  The Boswell AI had expended all its ships in long-shot efforts to deflect the asteroid. The only AI presence in the system now was scouts from the neighboring systems, watching from out of reach in deep space. The Combined Fleet was using the lull to repair ships, build ammo, and let injured spacers convalesce.

  A yeoman approached with a message pad. “Sir, dispatch from the Cleared Space patrols.”

  Galen read the terse message. “You gave me this one already.”

  The young spacer flushed. “No, sir. It just arrived.”

  “I read this same message an hour ago.”

  The boy was reduced to incoherence as he tried to disagree without being disrespectful.

  Galen led him over the Communications station. “Joe, show me my last two messages.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the lieutenant.

  The display flashed up the words, “Six Betrayer ships entered system. Falling back on fleetward gate to observe.” An identical line of text appeared below.

  “See? Duplicate message.”

  “Sir, this one came from the Zixian system patrol, the other from Sower.” The comm officer expanded the messages to show the ships transmitting and relaying them.

  Galen paused a moment. “Thank you.” He turned on his heel and strode across the deck. “Ensign Grove!”

  The unfortunate ensign snapped to attention from a half-doze.

  “Bring up the cleared space map.”

  “Yessir.” Grove fiddled with her controls until a sticks-and-balls map of a dozen star systems appeared in the Operations holotank.

  “Highlight Zixian and Sower.”

  Galen studied the map for a few minutes. The orange cleared systems were a thin layer between the blue Fusion systems and red Betrayers.

  “Deng!”

  Commodore Deng looked up from his desk. The chief of staff had been trying to build new squadrons from the surviving ships of ones broken during the asteroid fight. He met Galen’s eye with a questioning look.

  “Initiate Case Rabbit. We need to pull out of here. Everything.”

  “Even the patrols?”

  “Yes. Some of them will probably be cut off. Authorize alternate routes.”

  Deng nodded, putting his questions aside for later, and pulled up the retreat contingency plan.

  In less than an hour the flag bridge was fully manned. More than full. Second and third shift staffers came in to share the load.

  When the operations staff was all present Galen gave them a quick briefing. “Identical, simultaneous operations mean that these two Betrayers are coordinating with each other. But they’re not neighbors. They must be communicating through one of these two systems. Which means we have at least three AIs cooperating with each other to attack us.”

  That sent a wave of mutters through the staffers. The refusal of AIs to cooperate was one of the key factors letting some humans escape the original Betrayal. If that was changing . . .

  “If there’s three, we have to assume there may be more involved. This is the first time AIs have faced predator pressure. We’ve destroyed or subverted a dozen of them. That’s going to make others react even if they can’t feel fear.

  “We’re going to fall back on the Fusion and get reinforcements. Ideally we’ll be back there before the AI fleet catches us. You’ll need to plan for a retreat under fire. Assume all adjacent systems come after us. Get with the boffins, see if there’s any fault lines we can exploit.”

  As the staffers dispersed to their tasks the yeoman approached again. “Sir, Rear Admiral Tan requests a call, not urgent.”

  “Thanks.” Galen stepped into his office in case the conversation required privacy.

  Tan answered instantly. “Thanks, sir, I know you must be busy.”

  “No problem,” Galen told the support force commander. “What can I do for you?”

  “I have a ship captain resisting orders. Could you make him see sense?”

  Resisting an order in these circumstances was capital mutiny. Tan had won his flag with logistics efficiency, not people skills. Galen was willing to cover his weaknesses. “Yes. Which ship?”

  “FNS Charity.”

  Hospital ships were commanded by surgeons, not line officers. Galen felt more forgiving of Tan’s inability to handle his wayward captain.

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “Thank you.” Tan cut the comm, doubtless eager to oversee the planning needed to get all the logistics ships through a single gate with proper spacing.

  Galen placed the next
call. FNS Charity’s bridge appeared on the screen. A doctor in stained scrubs faced the pick-up. A Fusion Navy commander stood behind him. That would be the XO, who handled running everything non-medical on the ship.

  “Doctor. This is the Fleet Commander. What is the problem?”

  “As I have repeatedly explained,” said the doctor, “the intensive care patients cannot endure twenty gravs of acceleration. We are proceeding on the specified course at thirteen gravs.”

  Admiral Galen took a deep breath, ready to explain the importance of formation keeping and the danger of Betrayer pursuit. I don’t have time for this, and he won’t listen anyway.

  “Doctor. You are relieved of command. XO, take command. Give them one hour to prep patients as best they can then begin twenty gravs acceleration. And Doctor?” Galen paused to make sure he had the man’s attention. “Send me the names of patients who die under acceleration, so I may write their families.”

  Tiantan, gravity 8.7 m/s2

  Guo held the pillow over his head. Not to muffle noise—the cell was silent—but for warmth. He was curled in a ball on the cot, both blankets tucked in tight, and still shivering. The latest interrogation drug slowed his metabolism as a side effect. He’d be too cold to function until the last of it was out of his system.

  It was still better than the drug that made him itch. He wasn’t sure if that was a side effect or intentional torture.

  He tried to recall what he’d said. The drugs made him babble. Part of it had been stories from his childhood. Also a recitation of part of Romance of the Three Kingdoms. But he was afraid he’d blabbed about Guen. Or Mitchie. Or both.

  If they ask me about my love life I should tell them about Lian. They already know all of that.

  The door opened. Four guards came in. “Just pick him up,” ordered an officer in the corridor.

  Blankets and pillow were left behind as they carried him out. Guo’s teeth chattered as they went down the hall.

  He was too weak to stand in the shower stall. Two fully dressed guards were soaked as they held him up and scrubbed him with soft sponges.