by John Lumpkin
But Donovan didn’t think that was the case. The Chinese officers on the ship asked him questions about fleet movements and other matters that led him to believe that he was captured by a single ship that had somehow made it past some U.S. blockade.
Would they be going back through that blockade again? Or try to make Kuan Yin, through San Jacinto and the rest of the American fleet? Donovan didn’t know.
Li Xiao acknowledged moments in his life when all was shattered – the death of his brother in a gang fight in Harbin, the killing of Cai Jinming. He also knew others when all things crystallized, into a joyous, perfect event. When the universe availed itself to his will.
Like now. He reviewed accounts of the fleet’s victory over the Americans and was amazed to find San Jacinto had taken part in the battle.
He had only had a few true enemies left now; Sun Haisheng, the NSS agent Donovan, and the Space Force intelligence officer, Mercer, the one who had shot at him back in the alley in Graypen.
The cause of his shame.
Donovan and Sun he would have soon. One of the ships that had slipped past the American blockade in WX Ursae Majoris had found them, racing back to Earth. He had insisted that Donovan and Sun Haisheng be brought to him, and Second Bureau agreed; with the American fleet in the system in tatters, Kuan Yin was possibly the safest destination for their captors. Mercer was very likely still aboard the San Jacinto, running for cover elsewhere in this system. The fleet would hunt that vessel down soon.
Li Xiao reflected he had once regarded his assignment to Kuan Yin as punishment. It had become a blessing.
It took two weeks for San Jacinto, Fremantle and Bayandor to reach the asteroid. Swiftsure had seen to preventing any pursuit, blasting through Kuan Yin’s orbit and obliterating the two hydrogen depots and a Chinese tanker before accelerating away.
The Hans had reacted to that; the wily Brit had just destroyed their remass supply, and now they had to conserve their own stores if they wanted to continue to defend the system. The Chinese fleet broke off its attempts to catch Vincennes and the other allied survivors heading toward the wormhole, and Han ships were returning to Kuan Yin on low thrust.
At the asteroid, Captain Thorne agreed to rescue a half-dozen miners, stranded since the Chinese ran the Americans off of Kuan Yin, in exchange for hydrogen to refill their propellant tanks.
“New contact, Bravo keyhole. Designate Kilo-Eight-Four. Lit candle,” the sensor tech said.
Somebody in CIC cheered. Bravo led back to GJ 1119 and American space, so it was presumably a friendly coming through. Neil and some of the other officers stayed silent, though. It was probably too soon since the battle for a relief force to have arrived. Who could it be? Some idiot freighter bumbling into a war zone?
Soon enough, sensors had a reading on its candle.
“Classify ship as Chinese destroyer, Kuang Yi or Luhai class – they use the same candle and are roughly the same size,” Neil said.
“What?” Captain Thorne’s head turned at that. “How could a Han come from American space?”
Neil leaned over and conferred with the sensor tech briefly. The ship was 40 million kilometers distant, and there was little more they could tell.
“The ship is thrusting toward Kuan Yin, ma’am,” he said after a while. “And toward our carriers. No way to tell their destination at this point. Wait … another ship coming through. It’s one of ours, ma'am.”
“How can that be?”
“It’s a Nittany Lion candle,” Neil said, pointing at his console. “No doubt about it.”
More data appeared on the screen, causing him to despair.
“It’s Chieftain-class, ma’am,” he said. “Almost certainly the Dextrous. I believe she has been captured by the Hans.”
The fleeing American transports steered clear of the destroyer and its prize, and the Chinese made no move to engage them. They were going to Kuan Yin in a hurry.
San Jacinto waited. Information was in short supply. San Jacinto monitored Chinese broadcasts leaking into space from Kuan Yin, but information was tightly controlled there. The news stations hailed the victory over the American fleet, describing it as a mighty blow against the Japanese imperialists and their American and British servants. They carried further reports of Chinese advances in Japanese space, light-years away, and confirmation that the Chinese and Korean blockade over Earth was holding.
Neil found what was missing from the broadcasts almost as interesting as their content. They provided no reports of a second victory over the American fleets holding the line at Kennedy Station, WX Ursae Majoris or elsewhere. So how did that destroyer get through with a prize? Now Donovan and Sun Haisheng were dead, or in the hands of the enemy. So many losses.
Discord on San Jacinto was growing. 11 Leonis Minoris was still cut off from the wormhole communication relays, and everyone had been out of touch with their families for weeks. It was just a matter of time before the Hans got organized enough to hunt them down. Some despaired, thinking of dying, or of spending the war in some prison camp. Others grew restive; fights broke out during gym sessions. Still others turned to one another, and marriage vows were bent and broken. Neil wanted to spend more time with Tom and Erin, but he felt a lingering divide with each of them: Tom over the leak investigation, and Erin over … whatever it was they had, or didn’t. He hadn’t felt this alone since coming on board.
But Neil observed certain officers and astronauts alike adopt a quiet resolve, and he tried to emulate them. Focus the troops on their tasks; keep them busy; stay professional. We’re Space Force, and we’ve got a job to do.
It seemed to help. Copeland swore less often; Garza quit checking her inbox once a minute to see if any message from her family had arrived. It would not; .
After another week at their sanctuary of Corenco-Six, Neil floated along the tube to San Jacinto’s now-extended gym. His handheld beeped with a call from CIC.
“Sir, call from Flight Officer Wu aboard Fremantle,” the communications tech said. Kieran Wu was the ship’s intelligence officer.
“Wait one,” Neil said. He stopped his forward motion on a handhold and pulled himself into the gymnasium. “Okay, patch me through. Kieran?”
“Right here, Neil,” Wu said, his accent pure Aussie. “Listen, we picked up a tightbeam transmission while you were in the asteroid’s shadow a few minutes ago. It came from Brazos, from a man who said he was a friend of a Mister Donovan, and it was intended only for you. Does that mean anything to you? Be all right if I transmit it over now?”
“Go ahead, Kieran. Thanks.”
He read it immediately, wondering.
Ensign Mercer,
You have no doubt detected the vessel that has entered the system from what we believed was American space. I believe our colleague Jim Donovan is a prisoner on one of the ships. Your shipmate Lieutenant Stahl and Sun Haisheng are likely on board as well.
They need rescue. Jim is privy to a number of secrets we would prefer not to see extracted. And as you know, returning Sun Haisheng to Earth remains a critical objective for us.
I am unable to persuade anyone here to attempt retrieval – they are rightly concerned with protecting the assault carriers from the Han fleet. But your squadron may be able to accomplish a rescue.
I of course have no capacity to order such an operation. I am an advisor; I was to assume authority over NSS operations when we landed on Kuan Yin.
Please attempt to convince your captain that a rescue is necessary.
Gardiner Fairchild
“Nope. No way, no how,” Ensign Michael Hayes said. “The juice we’d burn to intercept the destroyer and the Dextrous would leave us stranded in the system. And that’s only if we survive engagements with the half-dozen other ships in the area.”
Neil nodded. “That’s what I thought. But I figured I’d ask.”
He wondered if he should tell Gardiner Fairchild. The ship was keeping its transmissions to a minimum, though the XO could order a tig
htbeam to Brazos, now closing in on the wormhole out of the system with the rest of the transports. Han ships were still on their tail.
He decided to wait.
Li Xiao reviewed the interrogation records of Lieutenant Frank Stahl. The military intelligence officers questioning him had done an excellent job of breaking him down, primarily through being nice to him. He was allowed to write letters to his family, provided private quarters and decent food and subtly given the notion he was an important prisoner, an important person. “Pride and ego up,” the technique was called.
Stahl was quite insecure, Li learned. The trick was to keep him talking, and he would give up information he thought was innocuous. Li skimmed through the question-and-answer transcript and called up the bio of Neil Mercer, built on the interrogations and Li’s recollections from his contact with them.
Name: Neil Everett Mercer
DOB: May 7, 2118
POB: Portland, Oregon, United States of America
Affiliation: United States Space Force
Rank: Ensign
Assignment: Intelligence Officer, USS San Jacinto (destroyer)
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Complexion: Light
Build: Medium
Family: Upper-middle class, child of two lawyers. One brother, DOB 2121 (est). Unmarried. Genetically modified; Dorhauer Gen3.
Notes: Heterosexual; no known deviant proclivities. Religious affiliation unknown.
History: Trained as a dropship pilot but assigned as auxiliary officer to USS San Jacinto in spring 2139, later elevated to intelligence officer upon severe injury to LT Frank Stahl (ref). Met with RADM Tanaka Heihachiro (ref) aboard JDF Mogami after the massacre in FL Virginis. Associate of James Donovan (ref) and Rafe Sato (ref), both of the United States National Security Service.
Personality: He is described as intelligent but unassertive. Both primary sources admit to disliking him. Source A notably jealous, describing him as selfish and “lucking” into success he did not earn. Neither described any particular vices, although both said he “loosens up” considerably under the influence of alcohol. Source B has said he is disloyal to his superiors, that he was “dazzled” by association with NSS operatives and became loyal to James Donovan. B Described his analytical capability as “competent, for a pilot.”
Loyal to James Donovan. That would make sense; they were in battle together. How could he use this information to kill him?
A wisp of a plan came to him.
The hot, thick air hit Donovan like a freight train as soon as he climbed down from the dropship. His joints ached, no small surprise given they hadn’t exercised him in simulated gravity since his capture.
He squinted in the sunlight, wondering where he was. They didn’t blindfold him, so they must not care if he knew. His weight told him nothing – he felt a little lighter than normal, but after weeks of near weightlessness, what could he be sure of? One sun was in the sky, a little bigger than the Sun was from Earth.
He tried not to stoop as he was led toward a nearby skycar. Chinese troops were arrayed around him and the others. He craned his neck to look at the main terminal and saw a sign welcoming him to Cottonwood Regional Spaceport.
Cottonwood. Kuan Yin, Sequoia continent.
Occupied territory.
Why here? It would be safer to remove him to some far-off Han world.
The Hans bundled in two more after him. Both wore the key, dagger and globe badges of Space Force intelligence. Seated facing him was the long-suffering Lieutenant Stahl, and a thin commander with the name “Raleigh” on his name patch and “USS Eagle” on his ship patch.
No one spoke during the ride. Smart – don’t give the interrogators any fodder. Raleigh stared at Donovan, clearly trying and failing to identify him. Donovan stared out the window.
Few people were in the streets; the ones Donovan did see were Chinese, uniformed and otherwise. He saw a few burned-out vehicle hulks – also all Chinese.
There’s still fighting here. Some kind of resistance?
He wondered who, if anyone, was running it. His agency had a dozen people on planet, but they were all working in Chinese territory, across the ocean. An officer or two might have retired here to serve as a part-time recruiter – hardly the sort to put together a guerrilla force.
Military, then, or purely civilian – farmers and ranchers with hunting rifles against People’s Liberation Army. He wondered how they were doing. Not well, probably. Nobody does internal security as well as the Chinese.
They flew to a sparsely settled, rough plain west of the town. The skycar landed inside a fenced compound, and several Han troopers escorted them inside, into separate cells.
The military intelligence chief for the occupied area around Cottonwood, a major named Shen, seemed to take some pleasure in delivering the bad news to Li Xiao. Major Shen was twelve years Li’s senior, but he still had to defer to the younger man. The power of Second Bureau.
“I’m sorry, Officer Li, but we cannot authorize the release of such information over our communications network.”
Li fumed. “But the information I wish released is not even true!”
“The operation you wish to conduct entails significant risk to our forces, and to what gain? You are quite ready to cast about with military assets, Officer Li, in pursuit of dubious goals. My superiors are quite aware of your lost destroyer. The answer is no.”
Li said nothing, but his mind raced. The military would assist him, whether Shen’s superiors liked it or not.
Day one was “fear up harsh,” shouting and overt threats. They dialed it back on day two to “fear up mild,” followed by an almost apologetic conversation with the purported superior of an overzealous junior interrogator. Their line was that Donovan, by continuing to claim he was with the American State Department, was risking execution as an illegal combatant.
They wanted to know Sun Haisheng’s plans after he arrived on Earth. They wanted to know the names of Chinese citizens aiding the United States or Japan.
Donovan knew the game. The interrogators, all PLA intelligence, tried to convince him they were his only way to avoid being killed. They would try to protect him against the wishes of their superiors, who didn’t care what he knew. Give me a tidbit for them, and they’ll let you live. It meant they regarded him as too secure in himself to respond to continued sessions of fear up harsh.
At least these Hans were too professional to hit him. Pain often makes someone just tell their interrogators what he thinks they want to hear, whether or not it’s the truth.
Still, part of him worried that they might actually kill him. Donovan knew the gnawing fear was what the interrogators intended to produce, but he nevertheless couldn’t deny it was a real possibility.
He also knew these were the preliminaries. At some point, they would get tougher with him. Not with fists, but with drugs or mind games. They would attempt to change his reality to where he couldn’t think right, to where he would tell them information without his conscious mind realizing what it was doing. It would happen sooner if Second Bureau got involved.
Part of him wondered if it was worth the fight. He didn’t know what happened to the American fleet that went into Kuan Yin, but it seemed likely it had been defeated if a Chinese destroyer could make the run from the American wormhole to the planet unmolested.
He hoped Neil Mercer wasn’t dead. He was a smart kid.
Ensign Mercer,
Vincennes reports intercepting communications between PLA forces on Kuan Yin and the Chinese fleet that indicate prisoners have been taken to a holding facility in the city of Cottonwood, in Chinese-held territory on the Sequoia continent. Why is unclear.
Vincennes has further made contact with a number of resistance elements in the area. I am attaching information about them at the end of this transmission. In addition, we are in contact with an NSS special activities officer aboard a submarine off the Sequoia coast, callsign Drummer. Please consider utilizi
ng her in any rescue operation. I will put you in touch with her if need be.
Please update me on your progress if you are able.
Gardiner Fairchild
It was difficult for Li Xiao to refrain from killing Jim Donovan immediately, but he knew he had to wait. His superiors would not be happy if he wasted such a potentially valuable resource so soon. Sun Haisheng had not yet broken, though one of his aides had. Already security squads had conducted raids in Taipei on the aide’s information. Several resistance cells were going down.
Li watched a video feed of Donovan in his cell. He recalled meeting the man, recalled someone commenting how he always needed something to read, or someone to talk to.
Something to read. He turned to Khenbish.
“Please find Donovan’s handheld among his effects, and return it to him after disabling its call-out functions. And find me a senior systems officer as well.”
“It will be done.”
“All right, Neil, outline your plan,” Mendoza prompted.
Neil was amazed he had gotten an audience, given Captain Thorne’s dislike of Donovan. But the XO said the captain wanted to see his proposed operation within 48 hours.
Operations plans … another discipline Neil hadn’t practiced since college. He hashed things out with Tom and Erin, who both gave up some sleep to help him.
He laid out the proposal to an audience of five: Thorne, Mendoza, Davis, Lang and Sanchez. He fumbled a couple of times, made up for it with jokes that earned a polite chuckle from Davis, at least.
“Merrill, thoughts?” Thorne said when Neil had finished.
“Risky plan – but I don’t see an alternative,” Davis said. “Best chance we would have. I’d send the Aussies instead of San Jacinto, though. Fremantle is faster and has a platoon of Pathfinders on board.”
