Lacuna: Demons of the Void

by David Adams

  She did have such a soft spot for dark-skinned men.

  *****

  Outside James Grégoire’s Quarters

  TFR Tehran

  The next morning

  Commander Kamal Iraj cleared his throat to get their attention. “Unfortunately, I have to ask that you step away now. I know you are waiting for Captain Liao to exit so you can interview her, but regrettably, what we have to speak about is classified.”

  The reporters crowded silently around the door to Captain Grégoire’s quarters, like scavengers searching for tasty meat, were finally ushered away. Now Kamal stood alone before the grey steel door straightening his uniform for the last time. He was satisfied now that everything was in order and it was time to finally meet his new CO.

  Her whereabouts were no secret. The reporters, along with many crew, had seen the two of them retire to Grégoire’s quarters that night and nobody had seen them leave... Their stakeout had made sure of that. Iraj had no opinion about her fairly obvious liaison; In fact, he welcomed it. Liao’s apparent “encounter” with another ship Captain reduced the risk that she would be fraternizing with anyone on her own crew, which might impair her judgement. It was best that she and her playmate have the vast gulf of space between them so that their heads were clear.

  Iraj opposed relationships between crew members on the same ship for this exact reason. He felt that, no matter how careful one was, it wasn’t possible to separate your duty from your loved ones... Even if those loved ones were merely bunk-buddies, they were obviously something more than friends. It wasn’t a reflection on the character of the person; it was merely human nature.

  Some people who thought this way opposed the participation of females in the military at all, believing them to be the cause of all the mischief (or that, at least, removing them would remove the opportunity, homosexuality aside). But the reality was that it had nothing to do with that at all. It was merely common sense... or so he felt.

  Iraj was only interested in men anyway, but in all his years of service he had never taken a partner, so he liked to hold his behaviour up as an example of how to do it right.

  Pushing all of these thoughts out of his mind, Kamal rapped his knuckles on the metal hatchway that lead to Grégoire’s quarters.

  “Shit!” came a hushed, female voice from inside. Then a louder one, male and deep.

  “This is Captain Grégoire’s quarters and I asked not to be disturbed. If this is another one of the reporters, I told you, I’ll be granting an interview in the morning-”

  “It’s Commander Iraj, sir, of the navy of the Islamic Republic of Iran, here to report to Commander Liao. I’m here to replace Commander Sheng as her first officer, and I would like to have the chance to speak with her informally before we begin serving together...”

  A pause, just a little too long to be believable. “...She’s not here. Have you tried checking the Beijing, or calling over the radio? Why would she be? ...This isn’t her ship!” More hushed conversation, then, “...She’s not here.”

  “I haven’t checked the Beijing, no, sir, because I’m afraid that she’s in your quarters.” He paused a moment, taking in a breath. “The reporters saw you going in. Apologies.”

  There was a quiet, feminine sigh from inside, then the sound of feet moving on metal deck. After a moment’s pause, a sheepish Melissa Liao – her short hair messed from the night’s activities and a towel wrapped clumsily around her body – peeked out from the crack in the door. She regarded the man dejectedly.

  “The reporters saw me go in? Great, just... great.”

  “Sorry, Commander. I know these are not ideal circumstances for us to meet, but...”

  She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. You couldn’t have anticipated...”

  Iraj peered closer. “Are... are you okay, Commander? You look very pale...”

  “No, I’m fine. Just hung over. A little too much excitement last night I fear, and a little too much scotch.”

  “...Oh.”

  There was an awkward silence. Iraj glanced over his shoulder, then back to his commanding officer. “Don’t worry, Commander. I’m not going to say anything, although I fear they know everything already.”

  “Your discretion with this matter would be appreciated, although you’re probably right...”

  Iraj pondered this. “Time will tell,” he began, the beginnings of a frown forming on his lips, “...and I hope that the press respects your right to privacy. A faint hope, but... May I come in? I have something to discuss with you that can’t wait.”

  Liao sighed, then beckoned him inside. She carefully kept the towel wrapped around herself, sitting on James’ couch. James pulled on a pair of boxers and Liao noticed – with some degree of curiosity and amusement in equal measure – that Iraj’s eyes were drawn to the brief glance of the naked man’s dark backside as he did so. Hers were not long behind.

  She mused over the situation for a moment, grinning inwardly. Mister Iraj wouldn’t be the first gay sailor the navy’d ever seen. Rum, sodomy and the lash, as they used to say...

  Liao returned her attention to her new first officer. “How can I help you, Mister Iraj?”

  The Iranian turned back to Melissa, folding his hands in his lap. “I’m concerned about the security of the Toralii we’ve captured. There’s a lot of hostility on board both ships about its presence. It’s understandable, really, but...”

  “Her name is Saara.”

  “I, uh-... apologize, Captain. Of course... her name is Saara.”

  Liao folded her arms, despite the towel draped around her midsection. “Saara’s been cooperating with us so far, and what she’s told us has been a significant source of intelligence for the task force. Her safety is a high priority to me and to the crew of my ship... I expect you to understand that.”

  “I know, Captain. I’m merely... worried about her safety. Your orders to transfer her to the Tehran were surprising to me, since you are keeping Lieutenant Yu on the Beijing. All this time spent learning their language will be for nothing if-”

  “What? Wait, transferred?” Liao sat up straight, now, glancing to Grégoire in confusion. “James? Did you order Saara be moved to the Tehran?”

  His look of confusion and alarm said it all.

  Iraj shook his head. “No, Captain, I don’t think you understand – the orders had your signature on them. The marines were given them by Sheng himself...”

  James gave Kamal a confused look. “You’re sure? It had Melissa’s signature on the transfer forms?”

  “Absolutely, Captain. I saw it myself.”

  “Shit!” Liao stared at Kamal as realization dawned. “Sheng... it’s Sheng, and he’s taking Saara to the Tehran... but why? Did he possibly think I wouldn’t notice her being transferred?”

  Throwing aside the towel, Liao began picking up her clothes. Both James and Iraj raised their left eyebrows at her sudden nakedness – something Melissa found, for some reason, vaguely amusing – but said nothing. Liao mused aloud as she pulled on her uniform.

  “He’s taking her to the Tehran... but that doesn’t make sense! Whatever he’s planning to do to her, he could just as easily do on the Beijing... What’s over there that he could want? And why would he take Saara?”

  Nobody knew. They dressed and stepped outside James’ quarters. Just as the door was about to close, James stuck his boot in. Disappearing inside, he returned with the sidearm taken from the locker inside his quarters. He loaded it with a full magazine, pulling back the slide with a dull ‘clink’, easing it forward, then gently lowered the hammer with his thumb.

  “Hope you’re not planning on using that,” Iraj observed with some degree of concern.

  James started walking down the corridor, motioning for them to follow. “Neither do I.”

  *****

  Corridor Six, near Operations

  TFR Tehran

  Minutes later

  “I’m sorry, I can’
t let you do that Commander Liao.”

  The marines standing before her kept their rifles trained on the three of them. James pushed his way to the front, the scowl on his face harder than the deck plating he walked on.

  “Stand down, Warrant Officer Cheung. I am the Captain of this vessel and you will-”

  “I’m afraid I can’t obey that order, Captain Grégoire, as you’re not the commanding officer of this vessel any longer. You’ve been legally relieved of command by Commander Sheng and ordered to report to the brig.”

  Grégoire raised an eyebrow at that. The dark-skinned man glanced over his shoulder to Liao, then back to Yanmei Cheung. “Have I, now? On what grounds?”

  The marine warrant officer tightened her grip on her rifle, keeping it fixed on Grégoire’s centre of mass. She was apprehensive and nervous; Liao, Sheng and Grégoire could all see that she was merely following order she did not necessarily agree with. “Your support of the actions of Commander Liao, who has also been similarly relieved, along with Commander Iraj.”

  Liao felt as though she could break the bulkheads around her in half if given the chance. Her anger, though, was buried beneath the cold steel exterior of a naval Captain. Instead of showing the boiling rage she felt bubbling beneath the surface, she instead projected the cool visage of a woman who was obviously displeased, but was in full control of her substantial anger.

  “And what regulation did Commander Liao disobey, Warrant Officer, serious enough to justify not only relieving her of command, but myself as well, and her XO? Go on... enlighten me.”

  “Commander Liao has been sheltering one of the Demons, Captain, a fact well known to half the fleet at this point. I’ve seen it myself.”

  James held his ground, staring down the marine with a gaze of steel. “My understanding, Warrant Officer Cheung, is that the People’s Navy in conjunction with the Task Force Resolution are empowered to take and keep prisoners, and that as part of that empowerment, are obligated to feed, clothe and care for them.” His tone became caustic. “Or perhaps the huge data mine of intelligence garnered from this operation, at basically no cost, is of no value to Commander Sheng?”

  “Commander Sheng believes that keeping the creature on board is dangerous. He believes that they attacked Earth without provocation and that they should be offered neither latitude nor quarter. He also believes that Commander Liao is reckless with her command and that he relieved her according to protocol, so-”

  “What do you believe?”

  Yanmei did not answer but the barrel of her rifle twitched slightly. Speaking firmly and evenly, Grégoire held out his hand. “Your rifle, please.”

  “You’ve been relieved of duty. I... I can’t.”

  James tilted his head forward, his hand remaining outstretched. He was no more and no less insistent. “The orders you have received are in error. They are given by a man who has no authority to give them... and his actions are not approved by the Task Force Resolution council. So accordingly you and I are not to be held to them. His actions constitute not the legal relief of duty, but mutiny. You can either stand with him, and be punished accordingly when this mess is sorted out, or you can continue to do your duty with honour and come take that bastard back to his cell, where he belongs.”

  Considering for a moment, Cheung looked conflicted. She glanced behind her at the other marines and then, seeming to come to a conclusion, slowly lowered her rifle. Liao took it from her, nodding her thanks and shouldering the weapon. With the marines in tow, the three of them headed towards the Tehran’s Operations room.

  *****

  Operations

  TFR Tehran

  The three officers, along with the marines, stormed into the Operations room to find it abuzz with activity. Sheng paced about the deck like he owned the place, and he looked up when they stormed in, immediately signalling a nearby marine.

  “Master at arms, remove these-”

  “Belay that command.” James strode into Operations, his pistol in hand and resting comfortably by his side. “Master at arms, on my authority I order you to relieve Sheng of duty and confiscate his sidearm.”

  The Master at arms, a youthful looking NCO with a confused look on his face, looked awkwardly between the two parties.

  Sheng fully turned to face the intruders now, frowning darkly. “No, belay that command. These three traitors are supposed to be in their cells.” He glanced to Cheung, frowning darkly. “But it seems they’ll soon have company. Captain Grégoire and his co-conspirators have been properly relieved for their actions and they should not be here.”

  Liao stepped forward, her rifle pointed straight at Sheng’s heart. “Indeed. And what actions are these, mmm? Mining a prisoner for intelligence? Pray tell me, Sheng, you brave and foolish little dove... How is that worthy of mutiny?”

  “Hah... she acts so innocent. As you wish, Commander, I will shed some illumination on this matter.” Sheng gestured with an arm. “Sergeant, bring out the prisoner.”

  Liao’s heart almost broke at what she saw, and she could hear James take in a sharp breath. The marines loyal to Sheng dragged out Saara’s limp form as though they were dragging a sack of potatoes. Her dark purple blood streaked her fur and her bloodstained face was adorned with rough, swollen bruises.

  She had been cut and burned, with sections of her fur on her back missing as though they had trashed her with a cane. It seemed as though the marines didn’t know what to really do to hurt the Toralii, so they started from the very basics and worked their way up with various degrees of success.

  The marines unceremoniously dropped her on the deck. Saara didn’t move. Liao couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

  “You see,” Sheng began, “I agree with your ideas, but I disapprove of your methods. Yes, knowledge was gained, but what was it... intelligence? More like stories... What use are stories to us? What use is folklore? Language exchange? We needed weapons, technology, information... the location of their home world! That is valuable information, not...” he snorted, “...not stories about ‘peace in the village’, spouted by hypocritical warmongers.”

  “The Geneva Convention, one of the Task Force’s standing orders, dictates that all people-”

  “The Toralii are things, Commander, not people. They are monsters. Demons. Hunks of meat to be held up and beaten until their secrets spill out, then discarded out a convenient airlock.”

  The man jabbed a finger down to the broken Toralii body. “This Demon spilled her secrets long ago, Commander, but still you keep her around. Still you let her consume our air, our water, our food...” His voice turned vicious and he leaned forward slightly. “You befriended a beast, Commander, and this has turned out to be a spectacularly bad idea. You’ve lost objectivity. The creature has given us all we can take... It is now refuse, debris to be discarded with the morning garbage.”

  Liao tightened her grip on the rifle. “What did she tell you?”

  Sheng’s grin widened. “The location of a Toralii resupply depot... and I fully intend to take this ship and destroy it. It was supposed to be the Beijing who would have this honour, but once I learned the good Captain Grégoire was there fucking his whore I knew I’d have to change my plans.”

  Liao paused a moment, considering the man’s words. From a strictly military point of view he had a point; Saara had told them everything they needed to know, except the location of her home world and the reason behind the attack... and Sheng had extracted a very valuable piece of information from her, one not even Liao had been given.

  Humanity had a history of mistreatment of “non-human” prisoners, where propaganda had dehumanized their enemies so completely that the offending soldiers no long even considered their enemies to be people. Now, it seemed, their species was carrying this habit to the stars... And while Saara was clearly non-human, in Liao’s mind she was a person and did not deserve to be brutalized this way.

  It was, therefore, with some guilt that she recalled punching Sheng in the face.
Although her actions had been done out of anger, and she had later controlled herself... it was difficult to claim to be the moral authority on the issue when there was an easy case to be made that she was a hypocrite.

  “Call them demons, do you?” asked Liao raising an eyebrow. “If they truly are, then...”

  Liao gently squeezed the trigger on her rifle. In the pure oxygen environment of the Operations room a large tongue of flame leapt from the end of the barrel, and with a bang-whiz the round blew out Sheng’s heart, the round blooming in a sanguine flower on his chest. The man collapsed in a bloody heap.

  “... give them my regards when you see them in hell.”

  She lowered the weapon, glancing around at the shocked faces all around her. “Apologies, Captain, for making a mess of your Operations room.”

  James, at first surprised, casually shrugged. “Can’t say I wasn’t thinking of it myself.”

  Act III

  Chapter VII

  “Horses and Stories”

  *****

  Medical bay

  TFR Beijing

  Sol System Asteroid Belt

  Two days later

  “Will she live?”

  An echo of her question to Doctor Saeed, made months ago, but now with one key word different: ‘she’. Her tone, too, was touched with something different. Rather than concern for her military objectives, Liao was concerned for Saara.

  Was that treason? Was she a traitor to her own species by caring for their prisoner, or as she had come to know her, her friend? Did Sheng really have a point?

  Saara lay on her bed nearby, her eyes closed, her face bandaged. Doctor Saeed stood nearby. He gave Liao a warm smile. “The Toralii heal faster than humans do, Captain. She has received a number of serious injuries... if she were a human, I am certain she would be dead, but fortunately that is not her fate this day. Sheng’s marines certainly did a number on her though.” He regarded her curiously, raising an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you had them punished...”