by David Adams
Her perception of those events was quite different. It was hard to believe, but Anderson spoke with the quiet confidence of someone who memorised textbooks. She settled back in her chair. “I didn’t know that.”
“Honestly, I didn’t want to believe it until I’d heard about it for myself.”
Liao considered. “Why are you telling me this?”
“It’s important,” said Anderson. “The old military instructor who told me that? He’s dead now. All his experience, knowledge, history… all dead with him. The only thing we can do is share things amongst ourselves. I’m passing along his hard-won knowledge, and I’m hoping you can apply it to our present situation.”
To the Toralii? She couldn’t see how, but another thought occurred. “Bean knowledge,” said Liao. “We need bean knowledge.”
“Bean knowledge?”
“It’s a Japanese idiom. Knowledge of small things. Trivia. We need to preserve the trivia of our species.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He did raise an eyebrow. “Since when did Chinese people start sprouting Japanese idioms?”
“Since there’s no China anymore and no Japan either.” Liao folded her arms. “Believe me, when I was growing up, all I heard about was how barbaric the Japanese were during World War II, but you know what? All those fuckers are dead. Every last one of them. Time to move on.”
“Sounds good,” said Anderson, and he stood up. “Well, let me know if I can do anything more to help.”
“There was one thing,” said Liao, inhaling slightly. “I want Decker-Sheng off this mission and out of our senior staff briefings. If we’re going to do this thing, I don’t want him to have any part of it.”
Anderson affixed her with a firm stare. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He’s a senior officer, one of the few we have left, and we need him as part of this team.” His voice softened. “Decker-Sheng shares blood with the man you killed, but he’s not his brother. He’s barely stepped foot in China and hardly knew him.”
“I don’t trust him.” She couldn’t quite articulate why. “It’s not his family connections. It’s more than that. Why was he in NORAD? Out of all the Humans we could have possibly dragged out of that place, why did we get him? He’s been a part of this fleet for less than a day, and he’s already in charge of a major operation?”
“It’s my operation,” Anderson reminded her, something he seemed reluctant to say. “My plan. We got him and many others. Sometimes the universe has a strange sense of irony, Captain.” He tilted his head slightly. “Is this going to be a problem?”
Would it? Her suspicions about Decker-Sheng ate at her. She wanted to protest, but Liao had put up with worse things. “No,” she said.
“Inform me if this position changes.”
“Will do,” said Liao, standing as well. “I should park the ship in low orbit. Then I should have a word to Iraj and make sure our tests went okay.”
“Agreed. I’ll walk you to the airlock, shall I?”
“I’d like that,” she said, putting her cap back on. She went to leave but saw something on Anderson’s face that made her stop. “You okay, Captain?”
“No,” he said frankly. “The Iilan are the toughest, strongest kids on the block. Just because they don’t want to fight doesn’t mean they can’t pack a wallop when they want to. The Toralii know what they want. They know where it is.”
She had meant “physically,” but his answer satisfied her. “You think we could be sailing into a trap,” Liao reasoned, with a fair amount of agreement.
Anderson put his chin in his hands. “I think we’d be foolish to think, now that even the mighty have been bloodied, that the Toralii Alliance have forgotten about us.”
She couldn’t agree more. “I should return to the Beijing,” she said. “I have a lot of work to do, and when it’s done, I’d like to catch a Broadsword to Eden. I have business on the surface.”
“This isn’t about Decker-Sheng, is it?”
Normally such a question might be inappropriate but not amongst command staff. It was good that he checked.
“No.” She had told Keller she would see to the Toralii prisoners. Although Liao was not enamoured with the idea of fair treatment for the Toralii, Keller had made a good point.
Still, she should at least see for herself.
“Just making sure we’re still Human.”
Eden
A passerby was happy to help Liao find where the prisoners were being kept. The Toralii had been an obvious addition to the settlement and, apparently, were being held in one of the underground bunkers, which the crew of the Tehran had modified into an improvised prison. Although she was not thrilled about their bunker space being used to house those who’d formerly bombarded said bunkers, they would be, at the very least, well protected.
Liao was not a tall woman, but she still stooped as she stepped through the threshold of the staircase leading into the underground bunker. Several cages had been hastily assembled in the far corner of the dimly lit artificial cave, and two Iranian Marines from the Tehran stood guard.
Liao approached. “Petty Officer, I would like to speak with one of the prisoners, please.”
“Of course, Captain.” They stood aside.
Liao regarded the prisoners. There were seven of them, and they sat on wooden squares laid over bare floors. Liao was taken aback by their appearance. Saara always took great care of her fur, but those Toralii were the opposite, their body hair tangled and disheveled, their posture stooped as they sat in the uncomfortable, cold cells. They looked uncomfortable and miserable. One of the Toralii was wounded, lying on her back, bandages stained with purple Toralii blood.
She recognised them all, vaguely, from their capture. Liao did not see their leader.
A tall, grey-furred Toralii shuffled to the front of the cage. He was wearing a Toralii translation device. Liao had no idea where they had gotten it from—the Knight, presumably.
[“I am Crewman First Rank Kkezi,”] he said. [“I speak for the crew.”]
“Where is their leader?” Liao asked. “The one with the white fur?”
[“Dead,”] he said. [“She attempted to escape. Your guards killed her during the attempt, and Airmaiden Jara was wounded.”]
Keller might have disagreed, but Liao’s posture remained neutral. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of sympathy for you.”
[“I do not recall asking for any.”] Kkezi’s tone was even. [“It is war.”]
“It is war,” echoed Liao. “That doesn’t mean we abandon our principles.”
He regarded her new arm. [“You were injured in the battle?”]
The question surprised her. For a moment, she felt a twinge of guilt. Despite his filthy surroundings and wounded subordinates, Kkezi had taken the time to ask about her welfare. “Yes, but I’m not here to talk about that.” Liao folded her hands in front of her, cupping her real hand in her prosthetic. “How was your journey down here?”
[“Swift,”] he said. [“We flew on one of your ships, the larger armed transports.”]
“We call them Broadswords,” Liao said. “After one of the ancient, traditional weapons of our people.”
[“Our military identifies them as zakkul. It means The Workhorse of Death. The design is simple. Rugged. Surprisingly powerful. Difficult to destroy.”]
“Strange for a Toralii to speak of another species’ technology with such reverence.”
[“We do not underestimate you Humans. We may have in the past, but we do not now. We see you as a potential threat to our dominance… or, at the very least, we did. That is why we destroyed your world.”]
Rage bubbled up within her at the mention of Earth. She fought to suppress it although the metal in her arm creaked as her fingers tightened.
There was something else, too—some kind of muscle tightness she couldn’t quite place.
“We’re a little angry about that, to be honest.”
Kkezi sat in the dirt. [“Your rage i
s undeniable and understandable. But you must know: even after our losses, assuming the entire fleet was burned to ashes, we will not be cowed. We lost significant fleet assets against the rogue construct your people empowered. We lost significantly more against your forces in orbit of this world. These losses will not discourage our wrath, only defer it. We are undeterred.”]
“You see,” said Liao, “I was afraid you were going to say that. And for the record: I believe you. I don’t think you’re alone, either. Your people will keep fighting us, will keep throwing ships and soldiers and weapons at us until either we are all dead or we physically deny you.”
[“The second outcome will not be possible for you. With respect, Captain, you should submit to the first.”]
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Liao crouched in the dirt on the far side of the cage. “Listen. I can help you out here. Living in a lightless hole isn’t good for anyone. I know your welfare isn’t exactly the most important thing on our minds right now, but I’ll be frank with you: we need your help.”
He regarded her with understandably sceptical eyes, which glinted in the darkness of the bunker. [“I do not see how helping you, assuming we even can, provides us as individuals or our species as a collective any particular benefit.”]
“I’m not promising much because we don’t have a lot to give. We can arrange for better accommodation. I’m considering returning you to the Knight—the ship you were being held on before you arrived here—if for no other reason than guarding you on the surface, this close to our landing area and the Beijing, is making me a little uneasy.”
[“Would it not make more tactical sense to keep us as far away from spacecraft as possible? What if we overpower your crew and escape with the ship or turn its weapons on the settlement below?”]
Liao smiled. “In that event, our ships will destroy you. Further, I doubt you will be able to stage such a takeover. I know the sailors on that ship, and they are hard, rough men. Besides, we have a substantial stockpile of nerve gas, and our protective gear will not fit Toralii.”
Kkezi snorted, his ears flicking forward. [“You would tell me of your countermeasures?”]
“I will tell you of some of our countermeasures with the aim of discouraging you from taking what you feel to be an easy opportunity.” She inhaled, reaching up and touching the metal bar of the cage with her metal prosthetic, running a finger down the bar with a faint metal-on-metal scrape. “What I am instead suggesting is that you help us with information and share your knowledge with us, and we can place some trust in you… trust, of course, being a commodity that is earned, not given freely.”
[“You will perform the debriefing yourself?”]
“I can’t promise this. You will be placed under the jurisdiction of Commander Sabeen, the commanding officer of the Knight, and she’ll be responsible for your welfare. However, she answers to me.”
He considered, regarding Liao for a long moment in silence, and then his eyes signalled a change in his demeanour that went from openly hostile to interested. [“What do you wish to know?”]
By the time the sun went down, Liao had left with a notepad full of tactical information—some in freeform notes, some in bullet form— and a promise to have the Toralii escorted back to the Knight in the morning.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, and she had spent too long talking to them, but it was an excellent exercise and one that had paid off to deal with personally. It was gratifying to have agency again, to effect positive change in her universe.
So when she finally got a chance to return to the Beijing, the Broadsword had been called away on other duties. Her real arm was sore from writing, and her prosthetic one itched slightly—a symptom on the long list of possible maladies Saeed had given her. That one, the list had said, would fade in time. She hoped her absence would not cause any drama. There were other things she could do on Eden.
The itching persisted. Scratching did not abate it, and the eyes of the people of Eden watched her as she moved, unable to find respite from their constant gazes.
So she walked.
CHAPTER VI
A Squeaky Little Mouse
*****
Eden
Velsharn
LIAO NEEDED TIME TO THINK.
It was a strange irony to her. She had thought so much during her time floating in the tank and had desired only to get out, but as she walked once again through Eden, she needed more thinking time. Nighttime was good for that. The sky was full of stars.
Tempting though it was to blame this change in attitude on the drugs she had taken during her stay in the fluid, Liao refrained. This one was all her.
The Beijing had left a Triumph-class-cruiser-shaped hole in Eden. The settlement had built up around the ship, but it was back in orbit, and the central beacon holding the whole place together was missing. It had been the primary landmark, visible from almost anywhere, and with her ship gone, Liao quickly got lost.
Fortunately, that gave her the perfect opportunity to think through her problems.
The notion that they were walking into a trap had cooled things down anyway. All the captains agreed that was not an undertaking to rush into. They acknowledged that, collectively, Liao had promised the Iilan help—and she was not about to renege on that promise—but they needed a new plan. Simply arriving with missiles, gunships, and brave Marines, then hoping for the best, would not be sufficient.
So what would?
That question would not be answered right away. The Knight had been sent to scout the location covertly. Although Liao had recommended taking a pair of Broadswords for escort duty, James and de Lugo had pointed out that the Knight’s greatest strength was that it was a recently captured enemy vessel and could therefore, at least in theory, pass as a genuine Toralii Alliance vessel.
She wasn’t sure how long she had pondered that situation, running daydream-like scenarios over and over in her head, when an American man approached her, nervous and awkward. He had flat facial features and a short neck, with strange eyes that just didn’t sit right. He looked far away to her. Still, he seemed friendly.
“Captain Liao,” he said, his voice cracking. “My name is John. I have seen your picture on the news, back on Earth, lots of times. I am glad I found you. I was hoping to talk to you.”
She could sense some pain behind his eyes. Such things were not uncommon those days. The loss of Earth had hurt many. She presumed he had a limited grasp of the situation. Would this man deal with it better, or worse? “I have a moment,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“Can I borrow your pistol?”
The question took her completely off guard, and she hesitated before answering. “N-No, John. I’m not allowed to give it away to anyone.” She reflexively lowered her arms, bringing her hands closer to her sidearm. “Why?”
“I need it,” he said, defeat in his voice. “I don’t think I’m much use here. I don’t want to be a burden to people.”
She did not need to ask any more questions. For a moment, her precise thoughts were difficult to articulate, but when words found their way to her lips, they came out with a quiet confidence she didn’t know she had. “Walk with me, John.”
He fell into step with her, moving surprisingly fast. She increased her pace to keep up.
“Do you know why we’re here?” she asked. “On this planet?”
“Yes. The Toralii destroyed everything. This is where we live now.”
“That’s right. I did mean, however, what our purpose is, being here.”
He seemed to consider the question. “Survive.”
Liao smiled a warm, genuine smile. “That’s the best answer I’ve ever heard, John. A lot of people here… they talk too much. They come up with smart-sounding answers like, ‘We’re here to sustain our collective consciousness’ or some other wankey bullshit. The reality is, we are all sacks of meat and DNA, and these sacks eventually die. So we’re here to rebuild our species on this new home.”
“I’m not sure how I can help with that.”
She thought for a moment. “Have you asked Mister Shepherd how you can help out around the settlement? It seems as though, despite all our progress, there’s a lot to do.”
“I’m afraid to talk to him.”
“Well,” she said, “I can have one of my crew talk to him if you would like.”
Just the mention of it seemed to bring a spark of hope, igniting the start of a smile on his face. “I would like that. A lot.”
They walked past the landing area. The Marines saluted her. She saluted back, and then turned away. She didn’t want attention tonight. “What sort of things can you do, John?”
John hesitated suddenly. “Nothing.”
“Oh, surely that’s not true.” Liao kept her tone light. “I’m sure there’s a lot of things you’re good at.”
“Um.” He intertwined his fingers and squeezed the front of his shirt. “I can make people laugh.”
“Really?” Liao was genuinely taken aback. “That’s impressive. I’m somewhat humourless, myself. Or so Summer tells me. Repeatedly.”
“Well, maybe you just try too hard not to hurt people.”
She didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to be rude. “How do you mean? I don’t like hurting people, as a rule.”
John looked down and away. “Because when anyone tells a joke, you have to make someone hurt. That’s just as simple as it gets.” Then he looked back at her, and for a moment, Liao could see real happiness there. “I don’t like making other people hurt, so I tell jokes about myself.”
“Surely there’s a way to tell jokes without hurting people,” said Liao.
John shook his head. “No. I mean, take this joke: Why do Germans love America?”
Captain Anderson would be better able to answer that one, but Liao couldn’t think of a good response. “I don’t know,” she said. “Why do Germans love Americans?”
