by David Adams
After the attacks, China, India, Iran and the EU all stepped up their space program under the banner of a multi-national alliance called ‘Task Force Resolution’. With their combined resources, they were able to construct a lunar base which was home to twenty thousand civilians and military personnel, almost all of whom worked on humanity’s hope for the future.
These hopes were called the Pillars of the Earth, and they took the form of three colossal spaceships just shy of six-hundred metres long and weighing in at 200,000 tonnes each. They were the size and mass of two aircraft carriers placed end to end, and the three of them had taken four years to build.
Each had been named for the three cities bombed in the attacks. The TFR Tehran was the first to be completed, having completed its shakedown cruise eight weeks ago without incident. The TFR Sydney was still in drydock on the moon’s surface awaiting the fitting of the last of its crew, weapons and computers.
The TFR Beijing patiently awaited its Captain... Commander Melissa Liao.
Liao extended her hand across the table, taking the hand extended to her and giving it a firm shake. General Yang, who was a portly man well into his mid fifties, returned the gesture. At Liao’s insistence, the conversation was held in English. She had to keep her language skills up; they were a valuable asset. After what had happened in Sydney, the command staff by and large agreed, albeit begrudgingly.
“Thank you, sir, and I’m sure he’s a very fine ship, from what I’ve seen in the simulations – I’m anxious to meet him.”
“Him?” General Yang tilted his head, seeming both curious and confused. “Commander, my understanding was the naval tradition dictated that a ship was always a woman...”
Liao ended the handshake and folded her hands behind her. “Not quite, sir. The implication is that the Captain is married to the job. In my view, that says to me... female Captain, male ship.”
The man stood, nodding appreciatively, and beckoned to the door. It was a simple chipboard affair, painted dull grey. But behind it lay great things.
“Very well. Are you prepared for your trip?”
Liao nodded in the affirmative. “Bags packed and ready to go, sir.”
“Very well.” Yang reached for the door, opening it. Beyond lay the launch site for the Changzheng 6D multi-stage rocket that would bear her to the stars. Seating forty, this personnel shuttle would be the last to depart for the lunar drydock before the ship was fully crewed and ready for his mission.
Releasing the doorknob, Yang nodded appreciatively, taking in the view of the launch pad. “I wish I was going with you...”
“Everyone does,” observed Liao. “This is the most popular command around... every sailor in the People’s Navy would give their right nut to be scrubbing the heads on the Beijing.”
General Yang did not contest her assertion. “Right. Well, let’s get you suited up. The launch is in six hours, so we need you prepared and ready...”
He paused, giving a chuckle.
“Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself. Before we get to that... your parents are here. They want to try and talk you out of going again. You’ve got a little bit of time to say goodbye to them, if you want...”
Sighing and running her hand through her now short cropped hair, Melissa nodded. She had changed her hairstyle after the attacks... where before she had worn it as long as regulations allowed, she now kept her hair very short.
“...sure, why not.”
It took only a few minutes for the armoured car carrying Lan and Huan, her mother and father, to trundle its way to Yang’s office. They both disembarked and hurried towards her, grabbing her with their arms and squeezing her into an awkward three way hug. Her parents, knowing her preferences for languages, spoke to her in English.
“Melissa! Oh Melissa, I can’t believe they’re going to shoot you into space...!”
Her mother was beside herself, as Melissa expected. Extracting herself from their arms, she did her best to calm them down.
“They’re not going to shoot me into space, Mum... jeez. And actually, it’s a huge honour. I’m going to be commanding my own ship...”
“I know, but... but...!”
Liao gently kissed her mother’s cheek. “Look, this is something I have to do, okay? It’s important to the nation and to all of humanity, really, as a species... and it’s very important to me.”
Her father, Huan, just shook his head. “Niu, you know you don’t have anything to prove-”
Hadn’t he learned by now? Melissa’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t call me Niu,” she hissed, folding her arms over her chest.
Lan looked back and forth between the two, trying to diffuse the tension. “Look... please, this is a huge occasion, do you two have to fight now...?”
Melissa stabbed her finger towards her father. “He knows how I feel about that name. My name is Melissa.”
Huan leaned forward slightly, becoming agitated. “Niu’s your name. It’s the name we gave you when you were born. That’s your name now and it always will be!”
Melissa practically spat out her reply. “It’s the name you gave to your first daughter. I am not your replacement goldfish, and I never will be. Niu is dead. I have my own life to live and I won’t be haunted by the spectre of your dead child.”
It was true. Lan and Huan’s first child was Niu Liao and she was the apple of her parents’ eyes. No great tragedy fell upon them, nor was there any great conspiracy about it – Niu just ever so quietly stopped breathing one night. It had taken her parents three years to even consider another child, and in memorandum to what they had lost, they also called the newborn girl Niu.
Melissa had learned the truth about her name when she was eight years old, when she had stumbled upon a picture of her deceased baby sister during a move between apartments. At once, she hated the very idea that the name that defined her individuality, that was supposed to be hers alone, was in fact all in honour of another person.
Frustrated and bitter about her parents’ decision, she had decided almost immediately to adopt a new name. She chose from Greek mythology, a subject with which she was interested in and she was studying in school. From their legends, Melissa was a nymph who discovered the secrets of making honey.
Liao liked the idea of being named after a gentle discoverer and she adopted the moniker immediately. Her father hated it and opposed her at every turn, but his wife was usually there to calm him down. She was allowed to keep the name. When the years passed, Lan gently persuaded him into, begrudgingly, allowing her to formally change her name when she turned sixteen.
Melissa sometimes felt that her parents had such high hopes for Niu that Melissa couldn’t possibly live up to their expectations. No matter what she did in life, Melissa felt that she would always be second to what her parents imagined Niu could have done.
“Can’t you just be happy for me?”
Sadness crept into her voice now, and her mother rushed to comfort her.
“Mel’, we are happy...”
Huan turned away from her, closing his eyes. That simple gesture hurt Liao more than she cared to admit. She hardened her features, her lips forming a thin line on her face.
“I have things to do... preparations to make.” Melissa strained herself, trying to keep her tone even. “Thank you for visiting.”
Her mother just shot her a silent look which said ‘I’m sorry’. Liao held her gaze for a moment, then politely ushered them out.
*****
Inside the Changzheng 6D
Jiuquan Satellite Launch Centre
Hours later
With the visit of her parents taken care of, the rest of the preparations went smoothly, with Liao being run through the same safety and procedure briefing she’d endured dozens of times over. When it was all done, she and the rest of the passengers were strapped into their capsule and the countdown timer ticked down.
“六, 五, 四, 三, 二, 一...”
There was a shudder, starting as a
gentle rumble then violently peaking as the craft broke free of its moorings and began its surprisingly slow ascent into the sky. Firmly locked into her seat Liao could see nothing beside or behind her, only a glimpse of the seemingly immobile blue sky through a tiny porthole. If it were not for the incredible feeling of acceleration and the shaking of everything around her, she would have sworn they were still on the launch pad.
The bulky, heavy suit she wore was hot and restrictive, but all thoughts of discomfort were banished from her mind as the craft rocketed to the heavens on a giant column of smoke and flame.
Soon, and it did happen quite suddenly, the blue sky out the porthole dimmed and became almost a dull grey colour. Gravity inside the compartment was almost three times as strong as normal due to their rapid ascent. Liao felt the crushing weight of her own arms pinned against the restraints of her seat, unable to move.
Within moments the grey gave way to an inky, lightless void and Liao felt another shudder as the last of the multi-stage rocket broke away, leaving the crew module drifting through the nothingness of low Earth orbit.
She also felt her stomach lurch. As part of her training she had experienced “zero g” a number of times in free fall, each accompanied by a bout of prolonged vomiting. She hoped – prayed – that this time would be different. The Chinese woman summoned a mental image of her father’s disapproving frown to try and keep her dumplings in her stomach.
Awkwardly unclasping her restraint, Liao began to climb out of her seat – but was shocked when she began to float quite helplessly up to the roof of the vehicle. Fighting down another wave of nausea, she grabbed one of the many handles and held on. After a moment the queasiness abated, but she still felt like she was only moments away from losing her breakfast.
“那里是你没事吧?” came a voice from one of the other passengers in the Henan dialect.
“I’m fine,” she answered, closing her eyes a moment and trying to keep her composure. “But English only, please.”
Surprisingly, the officer answered her in clipped but very clearly articulated English. His tone was formal but polite. “Of course. You must be Captain Liao,” he asked, floating up a little closer to her. “I’ve heard she insists on the TFR’s English-only rule at all times... even with her family.”
“That’s me, yes, and I do insist on it. My ability to speak English saved my life – I’d like to think that was a sign... of sorts.”
The man extended his hand, upside down – a gesture that was far too awkward for Liao to immediately take. “Lieutenant Commander Gaulung Sheng. I’m your First Officer.”
Liao was surprised at how young the man looked. He couldn’t have been a day over thirty, but he was her XO? Very surprising. Liao did her best to shake his hand from her upside-down position.
“Your first time in microgravity, Captain?” he asked, seeming completely at ease with their situation, in stark contrast to Liao who felt like there were a dozen tiny leprechauns tap-dancing on her stomach lining.
“First time outside of training,” she answered, nodding her head. Nodding turned out to be a bad idea – another wave of nausea hit her, and she tried her best to keep it all down. “I didn’t realise it would be so, fucking... ugh.”
Sheng seemed sympathetic to her distress. “I threw up on my first time,” he admitted, casually handing her a white paper bag that was open at one end. “It’s entirely natural. People think going into space is this wonderful, beautiful thing but it’s actually quite uncomfortable. They put you in these suits, then they strap your arse to a giant rocket and blast you off at supersonic speeds... and you know, practically everyone pukes.”
Right on cue Melissa retched into the bag. Sheng averted his eyes as she did so and when she was done he took it, deposited it inside a nearby clearly marked receptacle, and promptly fetched a fresh one. In the background, Liao could hear others doing the same – she was slightly mollified by the realization that she was not alone.
“You’ll get used to it, sir,” he said, giving her a clap on the shoulder which slowly sent her spinning around like a pinwheel. Fortunately her stomach was empty at this point – and to his credit, Sheng reached out and grabbed her foot as it sailed past to stop her. Pulling himself up, he floated face to face with her which proved to do wonders for her vertigo.
“First things first,” Liao murmured, her voice muffled by the fresh bag around her mouth, “while naval tradition dictates that female officers are to be referred to as ‘sir’, I believe that female officers can be feminine without compromising their authority. ‘Ma’am’ or ‘Captain’ will do just fine, thank you… or ‘Commander’ if we’re not on board the ship.”
Sheng nodded, although his acceptance of the command seemed, to Liao, to be a little forced. “Very well, Commander.” A pause as he let her regain a little more of her composure. “Are you looking forward to the shakedown cruise?”
Risking another wave of distress Liao nodded slightly. “I am, yes. I heard Captain Yavari took the TFR Tehran out for her maiden voyage a couple of months ago, completing it without incident.” A wry grin crossed her features, and despite how pale she looked, her face held a confidence she hoped Sheng would find inspiring. “...I hope to do better.”
“I’m sure you will, Commander, but...” Commander Sheng looked confused. “Regarding Captain Yavari, didn’t you hear what happened...?”
Liao blinked a few times, her surprise genuine. Had something gone wrong with the Tehran’s systems? Was this something she needed to know about? It seemed like she was always the last to hear these things.
“Hear what? All I’ve heard is that the voyage was without incident...”
Sheng chuckled. “No, no. It went fine... but Yavari’s not in command of the Tehran, nor was he even there for her shakedown. During a routine physical he was found to have pancreatic cancer so they pulled him off the line. He’s commanding a desk now, on Earth, but he still checks in every now and then over the ship’s long range radios and he’s copied into all their reports.”
That was unfortunate. Liao knew Yavari by reputation only, but what she had heard was good. The man was a good commander and a solid officer.
“So who’s the Tehran’s CO now?” Liao switched handholds, feeling somewhat better. She dared to move the paper bag away from her face.
“Yavari’s former XO, Captain James Grégoire.”
Liao couldn’t help but allow a playful little smile to dance on her lips. “Ah, my old friend. The Iranians must not have liked that... an EU sycophant in charge of the ship named after their capitol.”
“They were positively livid, but Grégoire was the XO. He knew the ship, stem to stern. There was – and still is – nobody better.”
There was a pause, as though Liao was determining just how polite it was to ask. “How is the old bastard anyway? Not too lost without his Captain?”
Sheng shrugged. “Last time I was at the lunar colony he was doing just fine... a bit pissed that his Captain had gone and gotten cancer on him. But hey, I honestly think he was glad to have the command, all other things aside. The shakedown cruise went well, so that’s a good start.”
Liao could understand that. “How long until we arrive? I’m anxious to see the Beijing for myself... I’ve studied the blueprints and 3D models, and been through simulation after simulation, but nothing compares to the real thing...”
Sheng smiled. “From the Earth to the Moon is not that far at all. Three days – just a quick jaunt out in space. Don’t worry; you’ll get a good view of the ship as we land.”
Liao did sincerely hope so. The woman opened her mouth to ask another question, but a voice interrupted her.
“Liao? Melissa Liao?”
Liao knew that voice. Twisting around (not the wisest decision, she discovered), Melissa’s disapproving eyes fell upon a torrent of floating red hair, bobbing about excitedly as though animated with a power of its own.
Summer Rowe. The geek from Chekhov’s Armoury in Sydney... i
f there was anyone Liao fervently hoped to have left behind on Earth, it was this woman.
“Isn’t this AWESOME?”
The redhead’s voice was even more high pitched and nasally than before, and she quickly chuffed down a puff of her asthma inhaler. The woman’s light blue eyes darted all around the room, taking in every detail.
Liao tried to keep her voice even. “We are about six thousand kilometres from the Earth, on a special chartered flight for the People’s Navy. What are you doing here?”
Summer just grinned impishly. “Oh, you haven’t heard? I’ve been assigned to the Beijing as a consultant. I mean, half the ship’s technology was fucking built by us anyway... and nobody knows it better than I do.”
Liao raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” she remarked dryly, shooting Sheng a ‘I will gut you for allowing this’ look out of the corner of one eye. “Nobody bothered to tell me, but I guess that’s okay. I’m only the Captain and all...”
Rowe gave a laugh. “Aww, well, I was originally intended to ship out with the Tehran, but there was a scheduling conflict and they couldn’t make it work in time.”
The Chinese woman shook her head in confusion. “Well, no matter. I guess we could use your voice on our shakedown cruise... not that I’m expecting any problems.”
Summer grasped one of the handles, curling up into a tight ball and spinning herself backwards. The redhead laughed giddily and Liao felt queasy again. It was going to be a long trip...
*****
Space, fifty thousand kilometres from the lunar surface
2037 A.D.
Three days after lift-off from Jiuquan
It had been a long three days, but for Melissa Liao it was worth every insufferable moment with Summer. Sheng had been of invaluable assistance. But if she was honest with herself, she hadn’t spoken to him very much. This, on reflection, she felt was quite a shame. He was going to be her XO, after all; they should be at least familiar with each other. Still, she found Grégoire to be much better company and couldn’t wait to meet him on the surface. It would be very nice to chat with him in person. They had kept in touch after the attack on Sydney, his letters a distinct comfort to her as her hip mended. James had written every other day. Liao had worried that she would lose mobility and be discharged, but the Australian surgeons had done good work. These days, aside from a seriously heavy-duty scar, it was like she had never been injured at all.
