by Adams, David
"Do you have to swear so much?"
"I like my coffee with two sugars and my swearing bellicose."
"Fair enough." Liao folded her arms on her desk. "So. What things?"
"The digger whatsits. Those things the Iilan gave us. I unpacked them and decided to give them a bit of a spin. You just ask them for what you want, and they dig it straight out of the ground. They're like beetles the size of a dog, and get this: they poop what they're mining." She squealed in a manner Liao found grating. "They literally, like, shit out blocks of whatever you want. They do it for the dross, too. Like, brown slabs of various minerals, all mixed in together. You can even get them to separate them out, but I haven't done that yet, since what we really need is just bricks right now. Later, we could use this thing to mine basically whatever we want. Of course, we can't do much with it yet, but if we had those constructs from the Rubens doing construction, we could build fairly complicated things. Houses. Aircraft. Fuck, even new Broadswords!"
Liao wanted to be pleased, but all that was there was a vague sense of emptiness. "Good. Is there anything else?"
"Yeah," said Rowe. "That Lucifer's Gas. We have about ten litres of it, but to be honest, I'd rather allocate the resources to these builders."
"Fine. Ten litres should be enough. I'll let you know if we need it." Liao couldn't focus. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. I wanna know what to build first."
"Ask Cheung. I imagine shelters outside the Beijing will be a priority for now. Or water pumps. Or sewage systems."
"Yeah. First things first, hey? Gotta start small before we build more ships."
"That's good thinking."
Rowe's red hair bounced all around her head. "Until then, though, there's a lot we can do with those raw materials. We can start building some permanent structures in this place."
"Well, perhaps we should wait until we've received confirmation from the Telvan that we can stay here." Liao considered. "But I guess there's no harm in gathering some resources while we wait."
That answer seemed to appease her. "Sounds good." Rowe smiled. "I feel like I wished on a star and got what I wanted. Christmas has come all at once for me. Santa is real, he is. Except that the North Pole has been baked to a crisp by now, of course. All those poor little elves. Rudolph won't be pulling a fucking sleigh this year."
"Thank you, Summer, for that amazingly depressing thought."
"No worries, Captain!"
Rowe closed the door, but no sooner had metal hit metal than it opened again.
"Captain," said Commander Iraj, a gentle smile on his face. "I was hoping to talk to you for a moment."
Liao wanted to be alone right now, but a solitary existence was not one for naval captains. "Sure. What's on your mind, Kamal?"
He indicated a computer printout. "The crew of the Tehran. They sent through another update."
She tried to keep herself as professional as possible. "What's the word?"
"Lots of things, most of it irrelevant. There's a lot of grief about the destruction of Earth. The Telvan send their deepest sympathies and will send aid as soon as some becomes available. Further, they've given us permission to settle on Velsharn for as long as we feel safe, indefinitely if need be."
The trend of everyone else sorting out their problems continued unabated. "I had hoped to see them personally about this, but it's good that Commander Sabeen's handling it."
"She's a skilled diplomat," said Iraj, "and she's passionate about what she does. They're still searching for Nalu." His voice lowered slightly. "It doesn't look good, I'm going to be honest. But the scene on the ground there is chaotic. There are so many people, Toralii and Human, who are lost. Scattered."
Liao nodded mutely.
"There's one more thing," said Iraj. "The Telvan want to resettle the Belthas IV refugees here on Velsharn."
That was an interesting suggestion. Liao mulled it over. "Going to be honest," she said, "it sounds like a brilliant idea for us. It would mean more direct Telvan help, especially with our infrastructure and defence. The Telvan might not be willing to take on the Alliance over some Humans, but they'll be much more likely to act if the lives of their own citizens are at stake."
"It would mean a much closer alliance to them, but I think it's a good idea too. Shall I send through the word with the next Broadsword?"
"Please do," she said.
"Anything else?"
Liao shook her head. "Seems like everything's coming together well."
"That it is." Iraj opened the door to her quarters. "A recommendation, Captain? Get some sleep."
"That's the plan," she said. "Soon enough."
"Now isn't soon enough. You're looking fatigued."
She made a shooing motion. "Soon as you let me go, it's nap time."
"Good. See you in the morning."
The door almost, almost closed, and then it swung open again. She heard Iraj protest, but then James stepped through the door, and everything got a little better.
"Hey," she said, not realising until that moment just how much she wanted to see him.
"Hey." He smiled. "Heard the news?"
"Yes, Kamal just told me. This place might be getting a whole lot more crowded."
"It's a good thing. We could really use the help."
Help, or more drain on their already limited resources? She disliked the idea of relying on the Telvan, but their presence would make a big difference to them. "I thought the same thing." She opened the cupboard above her desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch. "Drink?"
"I didn't realise you kept this stuff in your quarters, too."
"Office, quarters, it's all the same to me." She poured out a full glass for each of them. "You like ice with yours, right?"
"Yeah."
She held out the glass to him, then they toasted.
"To Allison," Liao said, and drank. The alcohol burned as it went down, and the fire was somehow comforting.
James waited until she was done, watching her. "Allison?" He sipped at his drink.
"Yeah." She inhaled, closing her eyes a moment. It was something she'd been meaning to discuss with James since… she barely even remembered. Since before Earth was gone. "I finally thought of the perfect name."
"The perfect… name?"
"For the baby." She drank again. "Allison."
James frowned. "Allison? Really? Oh God, Melissa, no."
She gripped her glass a little tighter. "What's wrong with Allison?"
James, clearly unwilling to argue with her, didn't answer right away. "Uh, nothing generally."
"Well, what's wrong with Allison specifically?"
"I… used to date a woman called Allison."
"So?"
"She was a hooker."
"A hooker?"
He gave a sheepish smile. "So we didn't really date date."
She snorted. "You're an idiot."
"Ah, yeah. My wilder, younger days…" He smiled. "Seriously, though, Allison's fine. It's a lovely name."
"Good, because I've decided."
"Are you sure you should be drinking so much?"
"It's fine."
James seemed to accept that answer. "Well, okay, look. Glad you're feeling better. I was scheduled to return to the Tehran with the Broadsword, but it turns out the ship's been delayed because of mechanical trouble. So I have another day here." He sipped some more of his scotch. "We should do something fun."
"A picnic, maybe?"
"Picnic," he said. "Tomorrow evening."
They finished their drinks, and then James went back to his quarters. As he opened the door, and the corridor beyond became visible, Liao ground her teeth together. The marines outside her door were absent. They could not even afford guards on the captain's quarters now? What other parts of her ship were going unwatched?
Then she was alone again. She should try to sleep again—the alcohol would probably help—but instead she sat behind her desk and opened her laptop. She began to write.
/> She started with a full chronicle of everything she had encountered since leaving Earth. The same information was detailed in meticulous reports to Fleet Command, and there were copies on the Beijing's databases so they had survived, but this was different. No sterile recollection of events or formal report; instead Liao wrote whatever was in her head. She wrote what she really felt about matters of Ben, the Telvan, and the battle over Belthas IV.
She wrote that she had been wrong to trust the Toralii Alliance.
She wrote that she should not have given Ben control of her ship.
She wrote that she was sorry.
All in all, it took nearly four hours in one continuous stream without pause, except to sip at a glass of water or stretch her wrists. She broke it down into chapters, each chapter dealing with a decision she'd made. She noted what she did wrong, what she would do in that situation knowing what she knew now, and how she could do better.
It was disorganised, chaotic even, but it had everything she knew. All her experience. All her mistakes. Everything.
When she was done, she saved the file and printed out a copy, stapling it neatly and placing it on her desk. She spent a moment staring at the cover.
On Matters of Continuation
By Naval Commander Melissa Liao
March 1st, 2044
She signed the bottom of the document with her fountain pen, then opened the top drawer and placed her pen delicately on its holding forks. She carefully moved it from the heavy wood of her table, using the metal as a paperweight for the thick document. From outside, the low rumbling of a returning ship landing at the colony caused the pen to vibrate ever so slightly.
The messenger Broadsword from the Tehran, no doubt, returning with more news. Kamal or Jiang or someone else would handle it. She should feel good, should be relieved that humanity's chances were improved, but she was completely numb to it.
Where would they go from here? They had a river, but its resources were finite. Much like Earth, most of Velsharn's water was salt water.
Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Their hope lay in distillation, powered by the Beijing's reactors, but she strongly disapproved. That meant the Beijing would become a structure, a fixed part of the settlement.
But it would help keep the local population alive, and they had few other options. Initial reports of subterranean fresh water proved to be erroneous. The planet's tiny islands were just not meant to support the numbers they currently hosted. They would have to spread out, but this meant a division of resources. They had only so many shovels, hammers, and emergency rations. They had simultaneously too few and too many people.
Everything was okay now, but the future looked dark indeed. Maybe the Iilan robots would help, maybe the constructs on the Rubens—if the ship had survived at all—could help too.
Maybe Liao's mistakes had doomed them all.
The larger southern island chain was their best hope, but the Velsharn Research Colony had been there. She could not stand to live among the ghosts of those she'd killed, although a mere few tens of thousands seemed insignificant when compared to the Humans that had died.
Still, though, the loss of those Telvan Toralii hurt her more than she cared to admit.
She couldn't live in the past. That was not her way. She could not continue to serve as the Beijing's CO if she did that. She could not function in the present, feeling superfluous and empty as she did, and she stand the future. A future living without her child.
Her blood.
At one point, Liao had more "relatives" than Allison, than her parents. Ben had created clones; one was a clone of Qadan, the leader of the southern settlement she had destroyed.
One of them was her.
She had shot and killed the clone of Qadan. When he had shown her the clone of herself, she fled into the bowels of the Giralan.
That clone was dead now, the Giralan torn to pieces on the surface of Belthas IV. The singularity that had engulfed the planet consumed whatever remained of the body and, right at this moment, was slowly consuming that solar system.
Her parents had died on Earth. Every single one of her ancestors had managed to reproduce, to pass along their genetic code, then protect that code as it grew into a Human being and reproduced itself.
She was the greatest failure, the first and last failure of her line.
There was a term, "debellation". It was an obscure word meaning "defeat by utter destruction". It was an army fighting to the last man. Everything that made Liao herself, her spirit, her genetic code, had been wiped out.
Only one Melissa Liao now remained in the galaxy. With Avaran's threat ringing in her ears, to be the last Human alive in the world, she reached into the drawer of her desk, withdrew her Type 9 pistol, and put it to her temple.
ACT II
CHAPTER V
The Best of Both Worlds
*****
Near the Giralan crash site
Planet Belthas IV
Belthas system
THE WIND HOWLED AROUND HIS body as the Telvan shuttle touched down nearby. The survivor watched it land, the sand stinging his eyes.
Or perhaps the pain was light hitting eyes he'd never used.
His. Her. Such distinctions now deserved consideration. He knew, at an academic level, that gender was a construction of society while sex was a biological condition. He'd always identified as male—it was not clear why, even to him—but it felt odd to be now inhabiting a biologically female body.
The shuttle's door opened.
["Human, we must go!"] shouted the Toralii who stood in the doorway. He beckoned towards the survivor, urging him aboard. ["The planet is coming apart!"]
The soil of Belthas IV trembled underneath his feet. ["They cannot understand you,"] came a reply from within. ["Bring it aboard, we can explain later!"]
The survivor's mouth and vocal chords couldn't form the sounds of the Toralii language, but he nodded to show he understood and stepped aboard the vessel. The male Toralii, a gunner, helped him.
It had been a long time since the survivor had stepped foot on a Toralii ship. He smiled as he did so, even as the shaking intensified. The shuttle's interior was full of Toralii soldiers. Some were wounded.
None appeared to be armed, except for the gunner. Presumably the pilot as well.
The ship lifted off the ground. In the distance, the burning wreckage of the Giralan trembled and vibrated as though seen through a heat mirage. The singularity would only be atoms wide but growing. The planet shook as though experiencing a tremor, and soon the singularity would soon consume all.
["I cannot see any other survivors,"] said the gunner. ["It is high time we left this world. Airmaiden Tur'vek, we must leave."]
["There could be more survivors!"]
["Then they are out of time and may no longer be considered amongst the living."]
With a snarl—angry, but acknowledging the truth of his words—the Airmaiden turned the vessel's nose skyward. ["Sky Gods protect them,"] she murmured, loud enough for the survivor to hear.
"Thank you," said the survivor, smiling to the Toralii who had plucked him from the world.
["I'm afraid I don't understand,"] the gunner replied.
To communicate his thanks, the survivor reached out, wrapping his arms around the gunner's body and hugging him close. The sensation was an odd one. Smell. Warmth. Sensory input flooded his brand new mind, almost overwhelming him. The sand and heat of the desert had been almost too much for him to process, but this was something else. Something more.
"Thank you."
The survivor reached around, drawing the plasma pistol from the Toralii's hip and discharging it into his fuzzy abdomen.
The Toralii gunner shrieked in pain. The survivor shot him again, square in the centre of mass, and his body dissolved into superheated hunks of meat.
The crew compartment of the Toralii shuttle erupted in panic. The pilot drew her own weapon but with a carefully placed shot, the survivor burn
ed her to ashes, too.
Then he turned towards those in the rear of the vessel, carefully lining up his shots.
When it was all done, the smell surprised him. Rich, pungent, overwhelming. He clumsily donned one of the ill-fitting Toralii space suits and then flushed the shuttle to space. The survivor saw, through the external cameras, that the blood left a purple trail behind him. The shuttle bore a striking resemblance, in his mind, to a comet.
Fascinating.
Atmosphere returned, and with it the smell. Reduced but still overpowering.
Humans, it seemed, were apt at smelling blood. Unfortunately, their bodies were remarkably resistant to modification and could not turn off their sensors when they no longer provided useful information.
Biological creatures possessed many disadvantages to their design but many advantages as well. His ability to recognise faces seemed distinctly improved. He saw the world through a whole new range of sensors, and it was glorious.
Then his console glowed. The Toralii were talking to him—or trying to, at any rate—but he didn't want to interrupt this moment. His ability to multitask was significantly diminished. Instead, he'd gained something else. The ability to err. Being imperfect allowed him more options, not constrained to the "most optimal" choice. Overall it was a net gain.
"This is Ben Gunn. Request you patch me through to the Human forces, because you have no idea what I'm saying."
Would he need a new name? No. Ben was a Human name, and while his body was female now, such things were largely irrelevant. It was enough to be Ben.
It took some time for the Toralii to patch him through to the Task Force Resolution ships. He expected it would. His little ship drifted further and further away from the planet, away from the battle site and the growing gravimetric instability behind it. But then an English voice filled the Toralii cockpit.
"Attention, unknown vessel. This is the TFR Tehran. Identify yourself."
Ben didn't recognise the voice. Humans were good at this, as a rule, but he'd never heard about it. He remembered reading through the Beijing's databanks—a task performed at a speed only a computer could—but those memories, once logically arranged in his datacore, couldn't be readily accessed. Whoever this person was, he'd have no advantage over them.
