by David Adams
*****
Captain Liao’s Quarters
TFR Beijing
Orbit of Earth
Two weeks later
“OOOH, THAT’S GOOOOOOD…”
MELISSA PURRED like a kitten as James expertly stroked and kneaded her back, working out the tension, allowing her to practically melt into the thick, comforting blankets of her bed.
Captain James Grégoire had many talents, it seemed, and naked post-sex back rubs were another thing Melissa could add to the list. They’d spent every night they could in bed together. Although their respective captaincies often had them sleeping apart, the crews of both vessels had been quick to notice the “combined briefings” went from the exception to the norm at a suspiciously fast pace.
“You’re unusually tense tonight,” he remarked, working at her lower back, causing her to wiggle around in pleasure, his dark hands working her tanned skin firmly and expertly.
“Mmm… yeah, Summer nearly caused me to blow my stack today. She was curious about the plasma pistol they found on Saara’s vessel… Saara was trying to show her how to use it safely, and Summer was impatient; she accidentally grabbed what must have been the trigger mechanism and damn near blew Saara’s head off. Melted another hole in a bulkhead, which had to be replaced, but—ooohmmm…”
James worked his hands lower, taking the cheeks of her rump into his palms, giving a firm, lingering squeeze.
“Is she okay?”
Melissa gave her hips a cheeky wiggle for James’s benefit. “Oh, she’ll be just fine, more’s the pity. I chewed her out pretty badly, but I’m not sure how much will stick. She looked bored more than anything. Ugh, nothing I say gets through to that girl.”
James worked his way down the insides of her legs, her skin still warm and slick with sweat from their recent coitus, and chuckled as Melissa obligingly parted her thighs slightly to give him better access. “I actually meant Saara.”
Melissa murmured something gently, her eyes closed as she enjoyed his tender affections. “Oh, she’s fine. Lost a little fur, but she’s—oooh!—quite fine.”
“Hmm! A moan like that suggests I haven’t done my job properly.” A stray digit wandered up her thighs, gently nudging up between her legs, exploring.
Melissa reached around with her hand, giving James’s arm a playful swat. “He-e-ey! Again so soon? My my my… what are you, sixteen again and horny as a dog?”
James casually slid himself over her prone body, and Liao arched her back slightly, teasingly, pressing her rump to his groin. He began kissing the side of her neck, his sable-skinned body pressing tightly to hers. “I feel sixteen again when I’m with you.” He gave her ear a playful nibble. “And I thought I was the only one who could ‘blow your stack.’”
Melissa softly moaned as he entered her again, her small hands gripping the bed sheets tighter. “That’s a different kind of—nnnf! Mmmm!”
Corridor Twenty Two, near Power Plant One
TFR Beijing
Orbit of Earth
The next morning
Liao checked off items from her checklist, taking a full tour of the ship as the crew went about their daily tasks. A full inspection of the ship’s power plants occupied her attention for a time, although her mind wandered as she spoke to the engineers in charge of the reactor.
Liao had not had much luck with men in her life. Part of that problem was the fallout from the One-Child Policy leaving far too many men and far too few eligible women to go around. She had been courted by rich businessmen’s sons, singers, artists, and ordinary men. Some took her fancy, and she lost her virginity early, but she ended up losing patience with all of them. She was looking for something a little more than physical intimacy but a little less than total commitment. It was an awkward grey area that she could never put into words, no matter how hard she tried. Melissa had slept with many men in her life, but she had never met anyone quite like James. James was different. He seemed to be able to ride that balance, to find that little place that she was looking for—a feat none of her other lovers had managed. He was not only skilled—and endowed—but he genuinely cared about her pleasure, too. He was a giving, passionate lover and—
“Captain?”
A young senior lieutenant, an engineer new to the ship’s crew, curiously stared at her. The engineer had been talking to her for some time; Liao realized she had been absently playing with the tip of her hair and hadn’t been paying attention to a word the crewman had been saying.
“Sorry, Lieutenant. Please go on.”
“I was just asking you if you wanted me to reschedule the cooling pump replacement since we’re only a few days away from the big operation. I can’t really go on because there isn’t really much more to say. Um, it’s a question, ma’am.”
Liao felt flustered. She tried to straighten her shoulders and—for now—flush the fond memories of the nights with James out of her mind, but even this determined effort seemed difficult.
“Yes. Reschedule the replacement for as soon as possible. We’ll need all our reactors online when the time comes.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
The crewman went about her business and left Liao with her thoughts. James occupied them for a time, but there was work to do. Confident that the engineer’s report was accurate and the nuclear power reactors would be at full capacity on the day, Liao moved on. She strolled down the corridors of her vessel, heading towards the stern, where the ship’s missiles were stored.
On the way there, she passed Warrant Officer Yanmei Cheung, who was leaning up against the hatchway to one of the deck’s armouries. Although Cheung wasn’t an officer, Liao had found her to be an excellent head of the marines; she anticipated giving her a field commission at some point, probably during their next resupply run. Still… she was the head of a department, and the idea of her also doing guard duty was a little strange. Curious, Liao turned around and headed back her way.
“Captain.” Cheung straightened her back, giving Liao a firm nod. “Everything’s shipshape here, ma’am.”
Liao nodded in return, frowning ever so slightly. Something felt… slightly off about the whole scenario. Cheung standing here in the corridor. Her formality. Her statement that everything was fine. Well, why wouldn’t it be?
“Good to hear it.” Liao studied Cheung’s expression, but it was impossible to read. “How are the exercises with the marines coming?”
“Very well, Captain. We’re running daily drills, counter-insurgency and boarding action, as requested. I’ve also done a few zero-gravity exercises with a handful of my best people. I didn’t want to mention it during the briefing, but there’s a possibility we might be fighting on the outside of the hull, if the demons try to get in that way.”
“Don’t spend too long in microgravity,” cautioned Liao. “The techs went to a great deal of effort to make sure we have—more or less—artificial gravity on this boat. Spending too much time outside it has terrible effects on your health. Limit them to no more than one hour per day.”
“Aye, Captain. I just thought it prudent in case they board the ship.”
Liao hadn’t considered zero-gravity combat, but it seemed unlikely. “Despite the risks, I’m inclined to agree, and having additional zero-G experience will be very handy. In a prolonged engagement, there’s a possibility the artificial gravity could go off, so I don’t want anyone being helpless if that happens.”
Cheung nodded. “I know, Captain, and I had the same thought… and took it one step further. Since my people will be the most likely to be near the outer hull during a boarding action, and since a breach would almost certainly be followed by a decompression, I’ve expanded our training to include practice runs.”
“What about weapons? Will they work without an atmosphere?”
Cheung chuckled playfully. “Of course they will. Sorry, it's a common misconception that guns don't work without an atmosphere. Cartridges contain their own oxidizer, so our standard sub-machine guns will wor
k just fine in a vacuum—better, in fact, since there’s no air resistance. However, the weapons will heat up very quickly and will jam or get too hot to hold after a few clips. Space might be cold, but it’s also a brilliant insulator… just like a Thermos. I pity our armourers too; the heat will damage the lubricants, and the weapons will require a complete after-action rebuild and clean.” Cheung's smile was slightly nervous. “So don’t worry about our defences from that perspective, Captain.”
Liao, suspecting that Cheung was unhappy correcting her commanding officer, nodded understandingly. Cheung’s specialist knowledge was why she was on the crew; Liao could not be expected to know everything.
“Good. Keep up the good work.”
Melissa almost went to leave but stopped. Cheung had relaxed as she went to step away but now seemed to tense up again. It might have just been nerves, or…
“One question, if you could? What’s behind that hatchway?”
“Uh, this one? It’s an armoury, so… just guns, Captain. Ammunition and guns: flash-bang grenades, flares, glow sticks, radios, you know… armoury stuff.”
Melissa frowned sceptically, putting her hands on her hips. Her instincts shouted at her; something wasn’t right at all. “Right, well, I guess I should include armoury inspection on my daily checklist. Let’s take a look, shall we? I’d like to make sure, personally, that everything is shipshape.”
“Commander Iraj already inspected it, ma’am. Just this morning.”
Liao was surprised at that answer. She paused just a moment to let her words sink in. “And while I’m certain he did a good job, I said I wanted to inspect the armoury personally, Warrant Officer. So please open the hatchway.”
“I’d rather you reconsider, Captain.” Cheung looked distinctly nervous, and her eyes flicked from side to side, unable to match Liao’s intense stare.
They had already had one mutiny aboard the ship during Liao’s time as commanding officer. She hoped—fiercely—that she was not facing another. Cheung had always been loyal, though. That’s why she had made her the chief of marines. What in the devil was going on?
“Marine, I’m ordering you to about-face, open the hatchway, and show me inside.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Cheung blew out a low, nervous sigh, nodding her head. “Very well, Captain. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Turning on her heel, Cheung turned the handle on the doorway until it gave a soft clank and stopped. Liao could hear voices and movement inside the room. Her hand slowly, instinctively drifted to her sidearm as Cheung pushed open the door.
The first sound she heard was a girlish giggle followed by an equally girlish moan.
Alex Aharoni had Summer Rowe bent over one of the ammunition crates, their clothing haphazardly scattered around the deck, her red hair bobbing wildly as Major Aharoni thumped his groin against her freckled backside.
Hearing the door open, Rowe—her eyes still closed—stifled another playful little moan and waved her hand in the air. “Ahh… ahh… Yanmei, piss off, we’re not done yet!”
“Oh, I think you’re quite done,” Liao's Captain's Voice was at work again, sharp and commanding. Rowe's eyes snapped open, and the two of them frantically disengaged.
For a moment, nobody said anything, the two of them standing there naked with Cheung and Liao looking on.
Rowe shot Cheung a dark look, turned her eyes to Liao, and finally broke the silence.
“So-o-o… Captain! Hey! What a surprise seeing you here!”
“I’m surprised to be here, myself, but more surprised at seeing the two of you… well… creating an unsanitary condition in my armoury.”
Apparently unconcerned by his nudity, Aharoni gave Liao a wide grin, his hands on his hips. “Sorry, Captain. Just enjoying a little recreational time between shifts. A little social networking—”
“Oh, you’re networked all right. I can see that.”
Rowe absently picked up her shirt, holding it in front of her and frowning at Liao. “Hey, if you’re going to chew us out, could you at least, you know, close the door?”
Liao motioned to Cheung, who turned and sealed the hatchway.
“Before you start,” Rowe accused, pointing her finger towards Liao with her free hand, “don’t get all hypocritical on us just because we’re having a little fun when we’re off duty. We know you’re fucking Captain Grégoire.”
“Oh, do you now?” she questioned, a distinctive edge to her tone. She turned to Aharoni. “You know my policy about rumours aboard my ship, but we’re not talking about me, are we, Mister Aharoni?”
“No, Captain. May I put on some pants?” A sly grin formed on the man’s face. “Or are you just enjoying the view?”
Rowe elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up. Can’t you see she’s pissed?”
Liao pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes a moment. “Okay, the bottom line is… you’re both off duty at the moment, you’re both consenting adults, and you’re both… young and stupid enough to do something as crazy as shagging in an ammo locker in lieu of getting a good night’s sleep only a few days before the launch of one of the most important operations mankind has ever embarked on.”
“It’s good for my morale, Captain,” Aharoni argued. “And besides, it’s not so late that we’re missing out on sleep.” He coughed. “Not that we do a lot of sleeping when we’re in bed together anyway.”
Liao held up her hands to make him stop. “Your shared nocturnal activities are, unfortunately, not none of my business, but I really don’t need specifics. How long has this been going on?”
Rowe shrugged, glancing at Aharoni. “I’m not sure, Jazz—when did you come on board, again? The day after that?”
Liao wrinkled her nose at Rowe calling her best pilot by his remarkably juvenile call sign but said nothing.
“Something like that,” Aharoni answered. “Or maybe it was that same day. I think it was after that boring-as-hell briefing. Yeah… it was. I asked you for a drink, and you said something flirty, and that was when we broke into the mess hall and—”
“Enough!” Liao blinked a few times, shaking her head. “What the hell am I going to do with you two?”
A moment of silence as Liao pinched her nose again. Then she just threw her hands in the air helplessly. “Well, look. It’s not harming anyone, and as long as you two keep it discrete, I don’t really care what the hell you two kids do instead of rack time.”
Rowe looked ready to speak, but Liao cut her off. “But… no more shagging in public places. In your bunks only and certainly not while you’re on duty.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Okey-dokey.”
Shaking her head at Rowe’s informality but feeling unable to chide her about it since the redhead was stark naked, Liao beat a swift retreat out of the room. She let Cheung step out first, began to close the door, but then stopped.
“Oh, and about that view?” Liao winked slyly as she shut the hatchway. “James is bigger.”
“Ha! I knew you were fu—”
Later
“So, how long have you known about those two clowns?”
Liao walked down the corridor with Cheung, who gave a low chuckle. “A few days, Captain. I sprung them together in a nuke tube when the engineers were doing maintenance on it.”
Liao shot the marine an incredulous glance. “In a missile launch tube?” They rounded a corner, and Liao nodded to some junior enlisted crew who jumped out of her way. “Are those things even pressurized?”
“Not during normal operations, no, but since we had work crews doing a maintenance run before the big operation, we temporarily pressurized them. It takes about an hour to check each missile, so they just slipped in when they saw the others being worked on.”
“The fuck? What if we had to open the launch bay doors?”
Cheung shrugged absently as the two walked towards the stern of the vessel. “They would probably get flushed out to space and die, and we would never know what happened t
o them. I mean, this ship is a closed system, so eventually we’d just have to assume they somehow got away from the ship. But I mean… the radar’s not configured to look for objects of that density, so they’d probably be automatically filtered out.”
Liao digested that for a moment. “Those stupid… ugh, I can’t believe it. I guess I’ll have to tell them not to bump uglies anywhere they might be flushed out into space at a moment’s notice.”
“I thought you already did that.”
Liao shrugged. “Technically, I told them not to bang on duty, and not to do it in a public place. I’m not sure a missile launch tube is classified as a public place, but… I did specify they should do it only in their rack, though. I can always fall back on that.”
“That’s true.”
Liao sighed. “It seems like everyone’s just getting busy.” She waved a hand at the marine absently. “I’m guessing you’re seeing one of the men on the side, too.”
“Uh, no.” Cheung grinned lopsidedly. “I like girls, sir.”
“Oh.” Liao felt slightly flustered, shaking her head.
Cheung just gave her a playful nudge.
“I thought that was fairly common knowledge, Captain.”
Liao made a confused face. “Actually, I’d heard occasional whispers to that effect, but I just assumed they were the standard jokes. You know, female head of the marines… well, she’s gotta be a lesbian if she chose that position. I guess I just didn’t expect something so, um, cliché to be accurate. Sorry.”
Cheung didn’t seem offended, and she just smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Captain. It’s an honest mistake. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again.”
“All right.”
Liao and Cheung turned and began walking back towards the operations room at the heart of the ship.
“So,” began Liao, “you didn’t answer my question.”
“Am I seeing anyone on the crew?”
“That’s the one.”
Cheung smiled, shaking her head. “No, Captain. Not at this time. I actually have someone back home.”
“Hmm, that’s unusual. I thought the Task Force preferred single people—less chance of homesickness on long voyages.”
“That’s technically true, but the form only specified ‘husband or boyfriend.’ Since I have neither, I ticked neither.”
Liao chuckled. “Cunning. I like that.” Seeing Cheung’s strange look, she playfully held up a hand. “Not like like, marine. Relax.”
“I was going to say.” Cheung laughed, and as they turned another corner, she continued, “But, you know, well… you said before that it’s strange that everyone’s hooking up at this critical juncture. It doesn’t seem strange to me.”
“Really?” Liao raised an eyebrow, regarding the taller, stronger woman. “You don’t think they should be focused on their duty?”
“Are you?”
That caught Liao by surprise. Stopping in the corridor, she closed her eyes a moment and then sighed. “Are James and I really that obvious?”
“Fairly obvious, yes, and it’s normal. Don’t worry about it, Captain.” Cheung beckoned her to continue, and the two resumed walking. “Soldiers all throughout history have gone to war—have stood on the precipice of strife, of battle, of unimaginable chaos and death and misery—knowing when dawn came, they could lose it all.
“It was in those times, Captain, that their minds turned not to the conflict ahead of them but to their families. Their friends in their hometowns, the people they loved, the people they were fighting to protect.”
Cheung gave a smile, holding open a door for Liao, and then the two stepped through into the final corridor before operations.
“And if they’re like Summer, or Alex, who don’t have anyone—then they manufacture someone.”
Liao stopped her before they could get into eavesdropping range of operations. “That’s what you think James is to me? More than just a warm body, he’s… I need him because I need someone worth fighting for? That’s all he is?”
“Is he?” Cheung paused, regarding Liao, who felt oddly disturbed by what she was saying.
“I don’t know. Not yet,” Liao clarified, reaching out and touching the taller woman’s arm. “But I… I don’t know.”
“We’re young women and men, Captain, but we’re standing in the shoes of our ancestors. Humans of all nations, of all ethnicities, of all faiths and colours and creeds have stood where we are standing now—on the brink of war. The reasons behind every struggle may change, Captain, and these may seem like new and fascinating times, but all wars are old wars.”
Liao remembered something her mother told her once. “And in war it is the youth who suffer.”
She bit her lower lip, suddenly unable to walk into the operations room, her eyes falling to the steel hatchway that led there. “Not everyone is going to survive this trip out, are they?”
“No,” was Cheung’s answer, her voice soft. “But we all know the risks.”
“That’s an old soldier’s answer if I ever heard one.”
“I’m not old”—Cheung gave her Captain a playful pat on the arm—“but I will be one day. Mark my words; I intend to get as old as possible.”
With a final glance towards her marine head, Liao nodded and stepped towards operations.
“So do I.”
Operations Room
TFR Beijing
Cheung’s words echoing in her mind, Liao stepped through the threshold into the operations room. Whenever she came here, it was like stepping into another world. This was the ship’s brain, but Liao preferred to think of it as his beating heart—the pulsating, organic, living centre of the vessel. It was from here that his lifeblood, information, was pumped along the ship’s length to every part of its body.
She was relieved to see that most of the operations crew had taken to heart her advice—not an order—to sleep well; the room was staffed by a skeleton crew and the night shift, who had started early.
Liao had slept during the swing shift; she wanted to be awake and alert for both the engagement and its prelude even as she advised her crew against the same course of action. The hypocrisy, although made with good intentions, still weighed upon her.
Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that this was the only shift Grégoire could visit.
Thus, it was with some trepidation that she picked up her digital pad and reviewed the ship’s status. It was, as it had been for several days, at the absolute peak of its readiness.
Liao went to call Rowe to operations, but as she reached for the intercom, she realized that she was already there, sitting in the corner and reading. Liao walked over, her curiosity getting the better of her. She hoped it was a technical manual or something work related.
“You got here fast.”
“Mmm?” The redhead looked up, regarding Liao. “Oh, yeah, well…”
“I know you’re not meant to be on duty now, but you are meant to be sleeping if you’re not.” A pause. “What are you reading?”
Rowe handed the paperback to Liao. “It's called The Touch of Tears.”
“Oh, that?” Liao chuckled. “From what I hear, it's more popular than Harry-fucking-Potter these days. Just don't read it when you're on the job.”
Rowe sighed dramatically, tucking the voluminous book under her arm. “Fine. Anyway, technically speaking, aren’t you meant to be in bed too, Captain?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I never can before the big operations.” Liao gave a wistful smile. “Or before Chinese New Year, for that matter. I’d stay awake, trying to count down the hours until midnight… just as I am now, I suppose.”
Rowe regarded her, raising a red-haired eyebrow. “That’s not good,” she observed, “since it means you’ll get tired. Tired captains make mistakes.”
“I don’t make mistakes.” Liao grinned down at the redhead. “That’s just one of the advantages of being captain. You’re never wrong; in the event you say or do something incorrect, it�
�s actually the universe itself that is wrong.”
“Technically,” Rowe began, “while you are the captain of the Beijing, your naval rank is only Commander. So that rule doesn’t apply yet.”
“Oh, little grasshopper, how much you have yet to learn.”
Rowe grinned. “Did Confucius say that, Captain?”
Liao returned the expression in kind. “No, I did.” She reached down and patted the woman on her head. “You can steal the quote, don’t worry.”
Rowe laughed. “I’m just sorry I didn’t have something snappier to come back at you.”
Liao smirked down at Rowe. “Aw now, don’t be bitter. Bitterness is like taking poison and expecting someone else to die. You should learn to let these things go!”
“Was that Confucius?”
Liao put her hands on her hips, smirking and raising an eyebrow. “Charlie Chaplin. Just because I’m Chinese doesn’t mean everything I say somehow relates back to Confucius.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Snickering, Rowe went back to her book, and Liao walked over to the centre of the mostly empty operations room.
In a few hours, it would be full of the best crew the human species had to offer, and they would launch the first real strike against the aliens who had killed so many. They would capture or destroy the Forerunner. Then, armed with the knowledge taken from its remains, they would take the fight to the Toralii.
A red, blinking light on the tactical console drew her attention. From the rear of the room came the shout of the swing-shift communications officer, whose name did not immediately leap into memory.
“C-Captain Liao! Radar contact!”
Liao whirled about, her eyes wide. “Where?”
“Directly in front of us! Right at the L1 jump point! Mass: twenty thousand tonnes, approximately. Configuration unknown. Multiple smaller contacts!”
Twenty thousand tonnes. The size of a capital ship. Liao practically ran to the man’s console, putting her hand on his shoulder and watching his readings. “Is it one of ours?”
“Negative, Captain. The Sydney and the Tehran are both accounted for and in position. Optics confirms it’s Toralii.”
There was a slight pause as the communications officer read information from the console. Shocked, he twisted in his seat, glancing at Liao.
“Ma'am, they’re transmitting a signal. The Toralii are hailing us.”
Act IV
Chapter X
A Pretty Little String of Pearls