by David Adams
*****
Operations Room
TFR Beijing
Space, near Jupiter
“FIRE.”
FOR A MOMENT, NOTHING at all happened. Then a soft hum filled the operations room as, fuelled by the ship’s nuclear reactors, the twin magnetic accelerators propelled their projectiles into space.
“Time to impact, Mister Jiang?” Liao asked.
“Fifteen seconds, Captain!”
“Mister Ling, any change in the target’s position on radar?”
There was a slight pause as Ling interpreted the radar’s information. “Negative, Captain. Due to the speed of the projectiles, by the time they see them, the target will only have a few seconds to react before impact.”
There was a brief quiet as time ticked down. Liao inspected her radar, glancing between her senior officers to ensure that everything was still working. Then the radar operator spoke again.
“Captain, the projectiles have merged with the hostile target.” A pause as Ling consulted his long-range radar screen. “I’m seeing numerous small contacts spreading out from the main ship in addition to a slight drop in mass. All consistent with a direct hit.”
An elated murmur ran through the operations room. Ling’s voice was triumphant as he twisted in his seat, grinning to his captain. “It’s debris, Captain. Good effect on target.”
Sheng called out from his own station. “Confirmed, Captain. There's a sizable debris field forming.”
Liao nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent work. Helm, close the distance to target. Inform the marines to assemble a boarding crew and prepare to salvage what we can from the wreckage… and someone wake up Summer. I want our best engineering team on the job, and—”
“Captain!” Ling shouted over Liao, something that would be considered to be quite a significant breach of protocol. “The debris, it’s moving!”
A hush fell over the ops room. Liao blinked in surprise. “Moving?”
“Straight towards us, Captain”—Ling’s voice intensified—“in formation.”
“他妈的!” spat Liao. “That’s not debris! How big are they?”
“Approximately twenty metres long, ten metres wide, five high.” Ling spent a moment reading his radar again, tweaking some of the settings for a more accurate picture. “It’s hard to tell since they’re all close together, but it seems as though… it seems as though they’re about the size of fighter aircraft.”
The reality dawned on Liao. “That’s what they are; they’re strike craft.” A pause as the information sank in. “How many?”
“Thirteen—no, fifteen. And they’re closing fast,” Sheng called, “as is the larger ship!”
“So if the ‘debris’ we saw are strike fighters, did the rail gun barrage even damage the larger ship at all?”
Liao was grateful that Ling nodded. “Yes, Captain. There is a lot of much smaller radar debris back at the Lagrangian point. We hit them all right, but to a fairly modest effect.”
Summer had warned that the rail guns did a lot less damage than the nukes. They were moving so fast that the majority of their energy wasn’t transmitted to the target—they instead tended to go “in and out,” leaving a relatively manageable hole in the hull.
“Very well then. Keep hitting them with the rail gun, maximum sustainable rate of fire, and load all missile tubes. Then open the launch doors. When they get into effective range, nuke the strike craft.”
The preparations were made in a tense silence punctuated only by the occasional soft hum of the rounds of rail gun fire.
“Status on rail gun effect?”
Ling shook his head. “Minimal, Captain. They’re anticipating our shots and moving to compensate. Ten shots, two hits.”
Twenty percent effectiveness, Liao mused to herself. That actually was not too bad… but it wasn’t too good, either.
“Just keep firing. Any evidence of return fire?”
“Negative, Capt—belay that, the strike craft are—”
Some kind of impact caused a faint rumble in the ship’s bow, followed by several more in quick succession.
Lieutenant Jiang spoke up, her voice charged with energy.
“They’re firing some kind of directed energy burst. External sensors report the hull temperature has increased by one hundred Kelvin, and there’s significant beta and gamma radiation.”
Liao put her hands on her hips. “Evasive manoeuvres. Avoid the blasts as best you can. Damage assessment?”
More rumbles. Jiang checked her sensors. “The forward hull is now at four hundred Kelvin, but the temperature is rising rapidly. If it reaches one thousand two hundred Kelvin, that’s it—the alloy breaks down and returns to liquid state.”
Liao imagined the front of the ship boiling off and the catastrophic damage that would cause. She nodded. “That would be bad.”
Jiang, despite herself, couldn’t help a dry chuckle. “That would be bad. Aye, ma’am.”
Liao grinned a strange, proud grin. “Let’s not break the ship on his first day out, then. Ling, weapons status?”
“We’re too close for rail guns now. We can’t turn our bow fast enough to aim. However, missile crews report they are ready to fire, Captain. The hostile strike craft are getting into range…” The ship shook a little more violently. Alarms called out from Jiang’s console, echoing around the ops room. “… but their fire is getting more intense, more accurate. Forward hull at six hundred and eighty Kelvin!”
“Duly noted. The ship’s ballistic, and since our guns are useless anyway, rotate us one-hundred-eighty degrees to the incoming fire. Present our rear to them, and prepare tubes one through six. Mister Ling, fire when ready!”
“Aye, ma’am!”
More and more shots hit the ship’s hull, on the stern now. Liao put her hand on Ling’s shoulder. “Missiles, Mister Ling! Fire them!”
“Belay that!” Commander Sheng’s voice rang out across the room, cutting over the tactical chatter.
Liao spun about, a deep scowl on her face. Sheng moved over to her, stepping so close their faces were almost touching.
Sheng’s voice was barely a whisper, pleading. “Liao, just listen to me. It’s not too late to stop this! We can move past them, into the Lagrangian point, and jump back to Earth! The aliens will probably—”
“Follow us straight to Earth again, Mister Sheng. Or report their findings to their people, including their assessment of our significantly improved tactical situation. That’s not a good outcome for us, no matter which way you spin it.”
Resigned, he nodded. “As you wish, Captain.” His face was hard but accepting, and he moved to his station.
Liao turned her attention to the operations room. Once again her Captain’s Voice took action.
“Mister Ling.”
“Yes, Captain?”
She squeezed the man’s shoulder, articulating every word clearly and calmly despite the continued barrage of fire now hitting their stern. “Status. On. Missile. Tubes.”
“Crew still report they are ready to fire, Captain.”
Stepping over to his console, Liao jabbed a finger towards the man’s radar screen, to the swarm of incoming contacts.
“Then light them up. Nuke those sons of bitches back to the galaxy they came from.”
Ling gave a wild grin, seeming to agree with Liao’s notion. His fingers flew over his keyboard, and a moment later, he nodded. “Missiles away, Captain.”
Another tense silence filled the operations room as the missiles streaked towards their targets. Strangely, the hostile impacts stopped. The operations room became deafeningly quiet.
After a moment, Ling spoke. “I’ve lost communication with one of the missiles… might have been a dud.”
Liao doubted that.
Sheng called back to Liao, “And another missile’s out.”
Jiang called from her console, “The energy barrages—they’re shooting down our missiles, Captain!”
“Good.” Liao’s face h
eld a firm, triumphant visage. The rest of the operations room looked at her as though she might be crazy, but Liao felt a surge of energy run through her. “That means they’re afraid of them.”
Ling spoke. “All missiles defeated, Captain. 抱歉.”
She nodded. “Not your fault. It was worth a shot anyw—”
Jiang shouted over her, “Wait, no! One of them got through. I’m reading a detonation!”
Liao turned to face her, eyes wide. “Effect?”
“Got about half of them,” responded Ling, his voice triumphant. “They’re debris now. And the rest are turning around! They’re heading back to their mother ship, and it’s… the larger ship is withdrawing!”
A spontaneous cheer rang up from the operations crew.
“No!”
Liao slammed her fist into the console in front of her. “Helm, pursuit course! Head to the Lagrangian point! I want to cut them off! We can’t allow them to escape!”
“Uh… aye, Captain! Course laid in!”
She whirled back to Ling, her face set in a dark frown. “How many missiles do we have loaded and ready to fire?”
“Four, Captain. Tubes one through six are still reloading.”
The aliens could not be allowed to retreat. To do so would permit them to return their findings to whatever blasted rock they came from and report that the Humans had attacked them. This would be the end of them; Earth only had three ships: one combat ready, one still in dry dock, and the Beijing, barely out of its shakedown cruise and possibly damaged. If the alien ship jumped away and escaped, they would return in force.
The aliens had underestimated humanity once already. Liao anticipated they would not do so again.
She paused, taking a deep breath. There was no decision to make here. This was a matter of action.
“Four is enough; we’ll make do with what we have. If we fire the missiles now, will they reach the Lagrangian point before the mother ship?”
Jiang, as though anticipating this very question, spoke up instantly. “Yes, Captain, if we turn our bow to them and fire as soon as possible, the missiles should arrive before the hostile ship does. Since we’re already ballistic and moving at quite a fast pace, the missiles will go even faster.”
Rowe's warning echoed in her mind. Hilariously unsafe. Well, Liao wasn’t laughing.
“Then execute the manoeuvre and fire everything that we have at the hostile mother ship, all four tubes. I want them blown to atoms before they reach the jump point.”
“Coming about, Captain.”
She nodded. Her father had always told her to finish what she started. It was a problem she’d had since childhood—she was excellent at beginning things but less skilled at finishing them. However, this was one thing she had to finish. Humanity’s future depended on it.
“Fire when ready.”
Liao felt the ship turn and then watched as the four lights indicating missile launch status turned green. The missiles, magnetically propelled and with rockets for guidance, streaked towards the hostile ship. Liao impatiently tapped her finger on the metal of the console in front of her.
The seconds passed.
“Hostile strike craft have docked with the mother ship, Captain… and now it’s increasing speed.”
Liao‘s frown intensified. “How far away are they from the Lagrangian point?”
Despondent, Jiang shook her head. “They’re going to reach it before the missile strike.”
So it was all for nothing. Liao’s fists balled in anger. She refused to accept this outcome. It wasn’t fair to condemn humanity to extinction because of this incident, because of a single period in time when they had failed… when she had failed.
“Options.”
Dead silence. Nobody had any.
Jiang’s voice was quiet in the still air of the Operations room as she voiced her thoughts. “They may not jump straight away. Maybe their jump drive has a charge period like ours.”
“This is no time for guesses, Mister Jiang.”
More silence. Then a voice cut through the quiet of the operations room; it was Lieutenant Ling, his voice charged with energy.
“Captain, I have an idea! Fire rail guns!”
His shout came without warning, startling everyone in the area. All eyes were upon him as he tapped furiously on his keyboard.
Liao stepped over to his console.
“Mister Ling, explain yourself.”
The man twisted in his seat, grinning like a wild man. “We can’t hit them because they’re too manoeuvrable, but we know where they’re going. If we bombard the Lagrangian point, they can’t use it! They’d have to move into our line of fire to jump!”
“Do it,” said Liao, gesturing to Jiang. Ling returned to his console. “They’re pulling into the point, but… sensors show impacts—it’s working. They’re moving. They’re pulling away!”
It was those few extra seconds that they needed. Jiang gave a triumphant cry. “Missile impacts! Direct hits—four detonations!”
Ling, despite the situation, gave a triumphant laugh. “I’m reading a massive debris field! They’ve been blown to bits!”
Liao let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. A momentary wave of light-headedness washed over her. How many seconds had she held it? Minutes? It didn’t matter.
“Mister Jiang, Mister Ling, confirm that ship is wreckage. I want an engineering team to pick up every damn piece of that boat, and I want it stowed in the cargo hold. Everything. Save as much as you can from as much as you can.” She clicked her tongue. “If we can find their computer core or their jump drive, then the drinks in the mess hall are going to be on me.”
“Aye aye, Captain. We’ll begin recovery operations immediately. We’ll get everyone we have on the job.”
“Good. When you have as much as you can get, make your best speed back to the lunar colony.”
She spun about on her heel, striding for the exit. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in engineering, supervising the salvage. Lieutenant Jiang, talk to Commander Sheng if you need anything. Well done, everyone.”
Sheng's Office
TFR Beijing
Deep Space
An hour later
Lieutenant Jiang saw that the door to Sheng's office was ajar. She stepped up to the door, her clipboard in her hand, but stopped when she heard his voice.
“That's correct, Miss Bose. The hostile ship was destroyed. We're just salvaging what we can now.”
There was a prolonged silence, followed by Sheng speaking again. “No, they're definitely destroyed. It doesn't matter; the move was reckless, and I feel she should be relieved of command for this, but… I could find no examples of her directly contravening any Task Force Resolution directives. I plan, however, to address them with her at the post-action debriefing, and I'll be petitioning the senior staff to support me relieving her. I already know several members in her senior staff who'll support me, and—”
Jiang pushed on the door, which groaned slightly as it swung open. Stepping inside, she handed the clipboard to Sheng. “The after-action report, sir.”
Sheng, appearing surprised as though not expecting to be overheard, quickly recovered, took the paper, and glanced at it then up at her. “Thank you, Lieutenant. That will be all.”
She turned to leave but then stopped, her hand resting on the door's handle. “Who were you speaking to, sir?”
Sheng stared at her, his hands folding in front of him on the table, and he said nothing.
Brig
TFR Beijing
Deep Space
Fifteen minutes later
Liao could not believe what Jiang had told her. The message came through just as she was entering engineering, that Jiang had heard her XO surreptitiously conversing, without explicit authority, with the press. A quick call to the ship's marines had Sheng detained while she took care of business in engineering. Then with her anger barely kept in check, she stormed to the ship's brig.
When she
got there, Liao opened the door to Sheng's cell and, without saying a word, punched him square in the face, knocking the man down. Blood splattered onto the bare metal of the deck. Coughing, Commander Gaulung Sheng wiped his face with his sleeve, his voice incredulous.
“什么他妈的?!”
“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare speak to me, you piece of shit.” She leaned forward, fists balled in rage, as though she might strike him again. “I make a decision you don't like, on my ship, and you run squealing to the press? I should have you shot for this!”
“So that’s how you run your command, is it?” His voice dripped with venom. “Just line up the objectors and shoot 'em? Is that how it goes?”
She pulled back her fist. Then, changing her mind, she lowered it. “I’ll tell you how it goes. You’re gone from this mission. We’re returning to the lunar dry dock. The very second we arrive—assuming I don’t change my mind between here and there and simply toss you out an airlock—I’m turning you over to the military police. Your career is over.”
Sheng shrugged, slowly pulling himself to his feet. He stared down the shorter woman, his face a determined mask. “It doesn’t matter. Getting rid of me won’t change what happened. You made the wrong choice today, and worse, you blamed me and wouldn’t let me do my job. My job is to advise you, to keep you on track, to follow the damn mission—”
“Your job is to follow my fucking orders!”
“That’s not how it works, and you know it!” Sheng jabbed an accusatory finger straight at her. “Or you would, if you hadn’t gotten this command by sheer luck. You haven’t served your time as an XO. You were given this command, this precious, important command, because you’re a filthy whore who’ll spread herself for the tall, handsome French Negro to advance her career!”
The allegation struck her like a kick to the teeth. “You think James—Captain Grégoire—and I—”
“Isn’t it true?”
“No!” Liao leaned forward, snarling. “Where the hell did you hear that? If I find out who’s got a big mouth, they’ll be joining you in this cell for attempting to undermine the authority of the Capta—”
“Captain? Ha. This was meant to be my command!” Sheng snarled now, his visage distorted with rage. “I was supposed to be the Beijing’s captain, but at the last minute, the committee decided on you. You! A woman—someone who had never been trusted with command, who had no experience, a… a navigator! They gave the keys of the most powerful warship mankind can build to a fucking glorified bus driver!”
Melissa’s fists balled. “My relationship with James is none of your fucking…”
Liao paused, took a deep breath, and forced herself to remain calm. After a brief moment to compose herself, she straightened her uniform, not looking at Sheng.
“Two things,” she offered, finally meeting his gaze.
Sheng shrugged indifferently.
Liao continued. “He is tall. He is handsome. And he is a Negro. Now, first and foremost, Captain James Grégoire is Belgian, not French. Secondly, he and I are great friends, but we’ve never slept together.”
“Liar. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”
Liao took her turn to shrug. “Believe what you want. Your words are shit to me.”
With a swift swing of her fist, she cracked the man in the nose again. Rubbing her fist with her other hand, she regarded the man lying, once again, prone on the metal deck.
“My mistake; that was three things.”
Almost as though on cue, the radio on her belt crackled. She heard Jiang’s voice through the line. “Operations to Captain Liao.”
Liao pulled the device off her belt with a sharp click, casually pressing the talk key. She locked gazes with the dazed, bloody man lying before her.
“This is Liao. I’m a little busy, Lieutenant.”
Jiang’s voice stressed her urgency. “Ma’am, our engineering team has begun recovery of the wreckage. It’s spreading out faster than we had anticipated, so we focused our efforts on the largest pieces. We’ve found something you need to see.”
Liao pressed down on the talk key so hard the plastic creaked. “Their jump drive?” If the forces of humanity could salvage that, it might allow them to vastly improve their capabilities. It would provide an incredible insight into the demons’ technology.
She could almost hear Jiang shake her head on the other end of the line. “Negative, ma'am. We haven’t found it, and it looks to have been destroyed.”
Jiang paused, as though receiving information from another source. In the gap, Sheng spoke up.
“So we're absolutely sure we got them?”
Liao regarded him for a moment and then slowly nodded. “Blew them to scrap.”
“Thank God.”
Liao didn’t know what to say to that, but before she got her chance, the radio crackled again. “Ma'am? Are you alone?”
Melissa shrugged to Sheng, activating the radio again with her bloody fingers. “More or less.”
“We recovered one of the aliens, ma'am. Our engineering teams cut it from one of the strike craft docked with the mother ship. Their hangar bays are very well armoured, and that protected it from being vaporised when we nuked them. The others were either outside the shielded area or farther inside, and they appear to have been annihilated by secondary explosions.”
Liao nodded. “Good work, Mister Jiang. Have the body brought to the morgue, and freeze it. I want a full autopsy done when we get back to the lunar colony.”
“Captain, you misunderstand.” Jiang paused.
“It’s still alive.”
Chapter V
The Demon’s Stories