by David Adams
“And so there’s no real recreation time in your work day, then?”
Rowe shrugged. “Not really. Even when I’m off the job, I’m on the job. It’s not your usual forty hour work week; it’s pretty full on.”
Martin nodded in agreement. “So there’s really no time for training anyone else, since you’re so busy with your actual work.”
Rowe gave a loud, long, pronounced laugh. “There’s literally no way I could train some minion up at the same time as I kept that ship sailing.”
“So Liao’s decision to keep you working, although risky, was the best choice for the ship and its crew?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Martin turned to Qu. “Very well, no further questions.”
*****
“Please state your full name for the court records.”
“Commander Kamal Bashiri Iraj, Your Honour, representing the Islamic Republic of Iran Navy.”
Kamal Iraj was Liao’s XO, her second in command, and someone she had relied on considerably during her time in command. He was taller than Liao, with Persian features and a completely shaved head. His most distinctive feature was a thick, jagged scar running from between his eyes down the left-hand side of his face. He’d earned that scar fighting off a second wave of Toralii boarders who had attacked the ship during their encounter with the Seth’arak. Liao had been unconscious.
She gave him a reassuring nod and the questions from Fang began.
“How did Liao handle having an Arab as her first officer? Was there conflict between the two of you?”
Kamal narrowed his eyes slightly. “I wouldn’t know, as I am Persian, much like most Iranians. I can say that my ethnicity had no bearing on Commander Liao’s conduct. I suspect, based on both her words and her actions, that she valued my input. I believe she considers me a confidant and good friend.”
“A confidant? But she did not reveal her pregnancy to you until after she had told the Toralii on Velsharn, after she had told Saara, and Doctor Saeed.”
Kamal looked at her, but Liao met his gaze and did not look away.
“That is correct, Mister Fang. I was… offended, I admit, but I understand her reasons for doing this. I do not hold it against her.”
Fang paused, flipping over a page of his notes, skipping a section. “Very well. Is it true you were made aware of Commander Liao’s relationship with Captain James Grégoire?”
“I was.”
“And is it true that you did not act on this knowledge because Commander Liao reciprocally concealed your relationship with Lieutenant Bai Peng?”
Kamal affixed an icy stare at the lawyer. “You know a great deal about a ship you’ve never stepped foot upon, Mister Fang.”
“Please answer the question, Commander Iraj,” said Qu. “Did you not act upon this information because you knew of Commander Liao's relationship with Captain Grégoire?”
“As you wish, Your Honour: No. There was no reciprocity and we did not ‘collude’ to disguise the truth. It is true, though, that we as commanding officers exercised discretion where it was appropriate in an unusual situation to preserve the ship’s day-to-day operations.”
Fang shuffled his papers, laying one on top. “So you were engaged in a same-sex relationship with Lieutenant Peng?”
Kamal leaned forward slightly. “Did he tell you that?”
“That’s irrelevant, Commander. Answer the question.”
Liao watched as Kamal stared down the lawyer.
“Yes,” he finally answered, “but it was brief. It ended when Peng was transferred away from the vessel after Lieutenant Jiang regained consciousness and resumed her post as chief tactical officer. To the best of my knowledge, Peng is now serving a post aboard the Cerberus Mars Lagrange Point blockade.”
“So he is not aboard the Beijing any longer?”
“I already said that he is not, no.”
“Was he transferred away because of your relationship?”
Kamal shook his head emphatically. “No. That decision was made because Lieutenant Jiang has much experience with the Beijing’s weapons systems, including actual combat experience. Peng, while eager to learn, did not adapt as well as Jiang, and his expertise was better suited to a less demanding position.” He turned to Qu. “In short, Your Honour, Jiang was better and the Beijing needs the best.”
Liao had taken no pleasure in that transfer, but she was glad that Jiang had recovered.
“Very well,” said Fang. “No further questions.”
Liao looked to Martin expectantly, but he just stood and addressed Qu without looking at her. “No questions for this witness, Your Honour.”
She stared at him as he took his seat. No questions? She wanted to ask him why, but instead, bit her tongue. It would be her turn next.
*****
And then it was her turn. Liao eased herself into the chair provided, exhaling as she made herself comfortable. The view from this side of the stand was remarkably different than from the defendant’s box; she had imagined it to be empowering, staring down the entire court, but instead, she found it to be intimidating.
Perhaps this was by design.
“State your name for the court records.”
“Commander Melissa Liao, People’s Republic of China Army Navy.”
Fang faced her directly for the first time. As he stared at her, seemingly examining her and judging her all at once, Liao slowly gained a new respect for just how skilled the lawyer was. She felt as though Fang’s gaze were made of iron, piercing her mental defences and laying her secrets bare.
“Thank you. Can you please, Commander Liao, in your own words, describe your last year of service.”
“I was offered command of the TFR Beijing in July, 2036, a year before her scheduled completion. At the time, I had been serving as the Executive Officer for the Han class Type 091 submarine 404, then later the 410. Admiral Tiong, my CO in that post, was originally to command the Beijing, but a minor heart issue disqualified him from service in space. Similarly, Admiral Ng, Captain Chou, Captain Lo, Commander Liáng and Commander Xiè were deemed unsuitable for reasons of ill health or other commitments, so the duty fell to me.”
Fang consulted his notes. “That seems like a remarkably short list for such a desirable post.”
“It was,” Liao said, “primarily because of the loss of nearly thirty-seven officers of rank commander or above during the attack on Beijing city. Since then, the People’s Army Navy has focused on decentralised training exercises.”
“Do you find it odd that the PRC appointed a woman to be the commanding officer of the vessel that would carry the name of their capital city?”
Liao found it surprisingly easy to keep her posture even. She knew he was baiting her, trying to shake her nerve.
“I do find it odd, yes. Most high ranking naval officers are male. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t do the job they asked of me or that I would be a suboptimal choice. The role of Commanding Officer is genderless.”
“An interesting statement, Commander, given your current condition.”
“The People’s Republic Army Navy allows officers of both genders parental leave. I fail to see how my pregnancy is a significant issue.”
Fang lowered his notes. “The issue is, Commander, that the Beijing is no standard deployment, nor is the Task Force Resolution a standard military operation. The Toralii are out there, Commander, and your unwise and ill-timed pregnancy has endangered us all. If you were commanding a seagoing vessel or a naval base or any other operation, this would be a non-issue.”
Liao straightened her back at considerable difficulty. “And, pray tell, how is it different?”
Fang twisted his head, looking around the court room with incredulity. “The Toralii are the greatest threat our species has ever faced, Commander. You of all people should know that. Your trivialisation of this issue is bad comedy.”
Liao shook her head emphatically. “No, I’m not trivialising anything. I meant what I said, Fa
ng. The Beijing technically operates under Chinese law and under the authority of the People’s Republic of China Army Navy. Task Force provisions aside, it is absolutely no different than a seagoing vessel.”
“Surely you can admit that’s being facetious, Commander. The Pillars of the Earth are, by far, the most important endeavour humanity has ever embarked upon. Our very survival rests in the hands of the commanding officers. They have to be treated differently. We have to make sacrifices to ensure their work is done.”
Liao stared at Fang unblinkingly. “If you think that all we have to do is give up everything you hold up as a value, and this will be enough to defeat the Toralii, then I’m afraid you do not know them very well at all.” She pointed to Saara without looking at her. “Maybe, when she was sitting where I’m sitting, you should have been more direct with your questions. Saara, is it true what Ben said right before he destroyed Velsharn? Does humanity have a chance against the Toralii?”
“It is not Saara’s turn to speak,” said Qu, “and I ask you to refrain from further outbursts of that nature, Commander Liao.”
Liao’s finger trembled, pointing directly at the Toralii she considered her closest friend. “Saara? Saara, I want you to answer my question!”
“Commander Liao, you are out of order.”
Liao rose from her seat, both hands squeezing the hard wooden railing of the defendant’s box. “SAARA!” Her voice rose to a roar. “ANSWER MY QUESTION!”
The judge banged his gavel, and a grinning Fang gestured helplessly to the packed courtroom, shrugging as though Liao were a lost case. Reporters scribbled in their notebooks, whispers and mutterings drowning out Saara’s muttered response.
[“No.”]
*****
When order was restored, Judge Qu called for a brief recess. Liao took the opportunity to get some fresh air, slipping out the fire exit at the rear of the court building after a quick check to see that it was not alarmed. The front would be swarming with reporters crowding under the overhang to avoid a particularly strong seasonal storm, and she did not feel she could handle facing the horde again.
But her cunning earned her only a moment’s peace. The door swung open and Martin stepped into the puddle of water, the whizz-click of an extending umbrella immediately following.
“I told you to keep your calm.”
Blunt as she had expected. “You did,” Liao said, “but it had to be said.”
“Really? You had to tell the court that our species is basically done for?”
Liao looked away down the side of the large brick building. “It was necessary for Qu to know the stakes, to know my mind, to understand what occupies my thoughts every day when we’re out there.”
Martin rested his back up against the stone wall, rain pattering against his umbrella. He held it over Liao’s head. “You picked a poor way to do it. What you did made you look unstable. We don’t want unstable.”
Liao fixed her gaze upon him. “Right. So why no questions for Kamal?”
He looked at her for some time, the rain pattering down on the umbrella he held over her head. “The practice of law is not as fluid as people think. The justice system, flawed though it is, is not a wild courtroom drama, not normally. It’s intended to be the solemn, sober collection of facts with an aim at the approximation of the truth of a matter. However, that said, each side in a legal dispute is expected to put forward their case in the best possible light. Mister Fang has nothing personal against you; he’s merely doing his job.”
“I know.”
“Good. Some clients take these things very personally, which I can understand.” Martin shuffled, his expensive shoes sloshing in the water. “With this in mind,” he said, “sometimes the best move you can play is to do nothing.”
Liao reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I thought you said we didn’t want to look unstable. Fang made it seem like my ship was a gay bathhouse and everyone was shagging the whole time we were up there.”
“Well, maybe,” Martin admitted, “but I believe Fang erred in this case. Kamal’s relationship was inappropriate, yes, but it was understandable. Kamal has an excellent service record, and the court took his answers favourably, I think. Sometimes, the best thing you can say is nothing at all, especially when you’re ahead.”
She looked at him, trying to gauge his honesty. “You think we’re ahead?”
Martin pursed his lips a moment. “Fifty fifty,” he said. “It could go either way. Your little outburst didn’t help.”
“Sorry. I was going for the ‘strong and determined’ look.”
“There are better ways to make that work. Your redheaded friend’s little show-and-tell didn’t help either. I thought you said you told her—”
“I definitely told her.”
He laughed, a low, happy laugh that Liao felt was strangely out of place in the dank, smelly alley, rain pattering down all around them. “No worries, mate. What’s done is done. For what it’s worth, if we were home, it’d be less of an issue. There’s a saying in Australia… The only person who wears a suit is the defendant. I doubt Qu will see it that way though.”
Liao absently rubbed her abdomen. “The shirt was funny though.”
“I would have chosen ‘Fuck The Police’ myself.”
She gave a snorting laugh, then eased herself away from the wall. “Okay, well, whatever. Time to face the music again, right?”
“Yes, but this time, it’s my turn to play,” promised Martin, snapping his umbrella closed as Liao stepped back through the open door and into the court building.
*****
“I apologise for my disturbance.”
It was difficult to say. Liao was of the firm belief that being pregnant didn’t make a woman helpless, so taking advantage of the leniency many would give someone in her position rubbed her the wrong way, but she knew it had to be done. Martin had counselled her in the strongest possible terms to set her pride aside and seek every advantage she could. As she finished speaking, she saw him gave her an approving nod out of the corner of her eye.
“I want to be clear,” Qu said, “That the court understands how stressful this whole thing has been on you and recognises the difficulty of your pregnancy.” His voice became pointed. “Although there’ll be no further outbursts, will there?”
Liao looked to Fang. “No.” Then back towards Qu. “And no, Your Honour.”
Qu seemed satisfied, so Liao turned her attention to Martin. “You can ask your questions.”
“Very well. For the benefit of the court, can you please detail how you report to your superiors when the Beijing is out in space?”
“Simply put, it’s not possible. The nature of our FTL technology is limited. The jump drive allows our vessels to travel anywhere without gravimetric interference, but the number of ships we have that are jump capable is limited. We can’t afford a Broadsword messenger unless the situation is truly dire, so by and large, unless we’re travelling back and forth ourselves, it’s just us out there.”
Martin turned a page on his notes. “And while covered in your training, this is unusual for a modern military, yes? To be out of communications with their command structure?”
“Very.”
“This must make command decisions difficult.”
“To a significant extent, yes, since the command staff are acting with imperfect and outdated information. There are times, such as the assault on Kor’Vakkar, where contacting Fleet Command wasn’t possible. Then we were on our own.”
“That couldn’t have been easy on you.”
“It wasn’t. Sometimes we had support though. The destruction of the prison station of Cenar was one such operation.”
“So, just to be clear, after you’d launched that operation, once the ship had jumped away, was there any way to stop the operation if you were ordered to?”
She shook her head. “No. Once a ship is out of radio range, there's no way to receive support from Earth. No way to get in contact with y
our superiors.”
“And yet both of those operations were successful, despite significant damage to the Pillars, correct?”
“I’d say they were a success, yes. The primary mission objectives were accomplished, along with significant success with secondary targets and targets of opportunity. All the ships made it back, more or less. Against the Toralii Alliance, I’d be reluctant to classify that as anything other than complete and total victory.”
Martin, leaning forward slightly, seemed to get to his point. “So even though mistakes were made and the decisions you made were never perfect, you still did the absolute best you could do—and you succeeded despite long odds against a foe you, conventionally, had little chance against.”
“I’d say that’s an accurate assessment of the Beijing’s mission history so far.”
Martin moved to the next section of his notes. “Aside from the Toralii, you encountered another species, yes?”
“Correct. The Kel-Voran, a warrior culture who frequently skirmish with the Toralii. Their representative was Garn, who held the rank of Starslayer.”
“And what did Garn say the Kel-Voran call you?”
“The Butcher of Kor’Vakkar, The Bringer of Terror, Slayer of Varsian the Immortal.” Her lip curled up slightly. “I told him Miss Rowe was the one who actually killed Varsian, and I wasn’t sure about the rest of it.”
Martin inclined his head slightly, gesturing to the courtroom. “It sounds like they respect you, maybe even fear you.”
“Something like that, yes. Very few have stood against the Toralii and lived to tell about it. Fewer still, more than once. Garn seemed to know who I was, despite none of our ships having any contact with their species. The Toralii are talking about us.”