Game Plan
*****
Cerberus Station
The next morning
THE TFR BEIJING APPEARED IN the Mars-Phobos Lagrange point with a flash of light and the subtle rumble of the resultant shockwave passing over the station, a gentle shaking that faded quickly. Liao saw her old ship through the observation portal for the first time in nearly a year, a familiar and welcoming sight that made her heart soar.
The ship was just as she’d left it—long and thin and powerful, lined with fins to dissipate heat and dotted with missile launch tubes. It was widest at the rear and came to a point like an arrowhead, its dull metal finish glinting slightly as the faint light of the station’s floodlights illuminated it.
Liao was wearing her own uniform again, something that pleased her immensely. It felt comfortable and welcome, a return to the life she had fought so hard to maintain. No, she was not the captain now, but in her mind, the Beijing would always be her ship.
She waited at the docking port for what seemed like an eternity before the seal locked and pressurised, allowing entry to the ship. She knew from experience that the crew would be eager to disembark even for a short while. She stood by in an adjacent corridor as the first wave of uniformed crew departed, laughing and joking with each other. She didn’t want to be recognised, didn’t want to make a scene.
None of them saw her, but as she prepared to step out and move aboard the ship, a stretcher supporting a wounded crewman was gingerly carried out of the airlock. The bearers held an IV bag aloft, walking past her with slow, careful steps. The station had no real medical facilities, so she knew they must be unloading him for transport to Mars or even Earth. She caught a look at the wounded man’s face; it wasn’t one she recognised, and neither were any of the stretcher bearers. This would be a common sight, she mused, as the team walked down the corridor and turned towards the station’s tiny infirmary. Unknown crew, strangers aboard her vessel.
[“Commander Liao?”]
The voice startled her. Liao turned around, her face lighting up. “Saara!”
The Toralii woman stepped forward and wrapped her up in a tight, bone-crushing hug.
“Ow, ow, ow!”
[“My apologies, Commander.”] Saara released her, but Liao still held on, squeezing the Toralii woman around her upper chest.
“It’s quite okay, really. I didn’t need those ribs anyway.” She smiled, stepping back. “What the hell are you doing here? James said you were aboard the Tehran.”
[“I was, but of course when I heard you were here, I requested a brief leave of absence to visit you.”] She smiled a wide, toothy smile. [“Given the disposition of the Commanding Officer, it was unsurprising that this request was granted. Besides, we were in the neighbourhood.”]
Liao smiled. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”
[“And you, Captain. Thank you for showing me Earth… I have many fond memories of your planet, and I wish to return as soon as I am able.”]
The thought pleased her. “Great. Let’s go to Hong Kong next, okay?”
[“I am unfamiliar with that location.”]
“You’ll love it. I promise.” Liao couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “So the Tehran’s here, huh? All three original Pillars are together again. That’ll be quite the sight.”
[“It would appear so. Bear in mind, though, that we have had combined operations since you left.”]
At that, Liao felt a faint regret in her gut. Saara’s face shifted subtly, and Liao wondered if she’d picked up on her reaction, a suspicion confirmed when the topic was swiftly changed.
[“And the Madrid will be joining us within a day.”]
Liao forced her tone to remain lighthearted. “Good. We can best project our strength when we’re together.”
Saara nodded eagerly. [“Sound military doctrine, Commander.”] Her eyes widened. [“I was almost forgetful. Commander, Captains Knight, Harandi, and Grégoire request your presence. The TFR Washington has been launched from its berth under the command of Captain Anderson, and after it’s undertaken its first jump, it will be moving to the Cerberus Station with the Madrid.”]
Liao frowned. “They’re putting the Washington into action without a shakedown cruise?”
Every newly launched Pillar of the Earth had undertaken a shakedown cruise, a first journey via reactionless drive, typically out to Jupiter or Venus and back. This was seen as a good opportunity to find and solve problems with the incredibly complex machines before they were to see actual combat.
Saara’s face belied her concern, too. [“Grégoire explained to me that it is the opinion of Fleet Command that the Triumph-class vessels are now a proven platform and ready for mass production. Protocol now dictates that the shakedown cruises for current and future vessels be curtailed to one day. Construction and material issues have delayed the Moscow and the Tripoli from being able to launch with the Washington, regrettably, so they are still a month away.”]
“Great. Don’t they remember all the problems the Sydney had in the beginning?”
[“Evidently not. Additionally, your nation of Libya’s financial problems necessitated a large grant from the South Korean government. They’re petitioning to have the ship renamed the Seoul. Meanwhile, the Brazilians, who also contributed significantly to Libya’s assistance, wish the vessel to be christened the Brasília. As you Humans say, everything is political.”]
Liao opened her mouth to say something, but Saara’s eyes lifted, looking over Laio’s shoulder. She followed Saara’s gaze until her eyes fell upon Summer Rowe.
“Hey, Cappy!” The fiery redhead skipped forward, grinning impishly. “Ya made it!”
Liao shook her head at Rowe’s exuberance. “Well, look who’s still not locked up in an insane asylum yet.”
“Hah. Are you fucking kidding me? Everyone else is the crazy one. I’m totally sane.”
“I’m afraid it’s relative.” Liao couldn’t help but feel that Summer’s bubbly, energetic personality was infectious after having been without it for so long. “But anyway, it’s great to see you again, but I’m not the captain anymore.”
Summer blew a loud raspberry. “Yeah, well, Commodore Wrong is a shit-eating shithead. They need to give that crotchety old fuck the boot and get you back in command, I reckon.”
Liao grimaced slightly, glancing around to make sure nobody had overheard. “Commodore Vong is a decent Commanding Officer, based on what I hear. I have confidence in his abilities.”
[“I, too, preferred you in command,”] offered Saara, [“and I think your style is much more agreeable than his.”]
“And I appreciate that. But for the foreseeable future, the Beijing is under the command of Commodore Vong, and that’s all there is to say about it.”
Rowe rolled her eyes in an exaggerated gesture, causing guffaws from Saara.
Liao made little “tsk tsk” noises at them. “What, are you two six years old?”
“Mentally? About fourteen.” Rowe gave a wide, cheesy smile. “Certified, desensitised, disaffected youth.”
“You’re 28.”
Summer looked offended. “That’s still young!”
“Try joining a youth group and see what they say.” Liao clapped her on the shoulder. “Anyway. Let’s go see the captains, shall we?”
Summer gave her a strange look, half concerned, half elated. “You’re acting really weird.”
Liao blinked in surprise. “What? No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” Rowe leaned in towards her, almost accusingly. “You’re… you’re a lot less of a stick-up-your-arse, super-boring captain now. Maybe taking some time off for the first time in your workaholic life has done you some good!”
“I’m the same person I always was, Summer. For what it’s worth, though, you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Ha, and I hope I never do.” Rowe clapped her hands eagerly. “So, you want a tour of the ship?”
Liao gave her a sceptical leer. “Why? What have you changed about it?”
“Oooh, well, wouldn’t you like to know?”
Liao put her hands on her hips. “Summer, if you fucked with my ship while I was away, I am going to destroy you.”
[“Aside from the newly installed, networked, tactical IFF computer, nothing of significance has been altered by Summer, Commander Liao. I promise you that.”]
Rowe stuck out her tongue at Saara. “Spoilsport.”
Presumably because she had no actual ship to command and very little actual work to do, Liao was the first to arrive.
The conference room, only hours ago packed full of Toralii, marines, guards, and observers, was now conspicuously empty. Liao spent a moment studying the seat where Avaran had sat and the occasional strand of fur left behind on the rear of the seat. It seemed impossible to believe that one so mighty had come to this room practically begging for an audience, ready to negotiate a cease-fire. For all her victories and hard work, she had not accomplished anything so major in so little time.
Perhaps they didn’t need her after all.
She reminded herself that Avaran didn’t even know about the Rubens and either knew nothing of what the other ships had been up to during her time away or didn’t care. Yet the attack on Kor’Vakkar, the destruction of Cenar, and even the events at Velsharn, these things were all known to him. Although she had not done these things alone, her ship and her command had been the driving force behind them. Her involvement was intertwined with every part of those events to the point where, if one were to remove her, they would never have taken place at all.
Perhaps they did need her after all.
The hatchway swung open with a faint groan. A tall, older Chinese man, with surprisingly fair skin and the shadow of a beard and moustache across his face, stepped into the room. His epaulets gave his rank as a commodore, and Liao spent a moment sizing him up.
“Commodore Vong, I presume?”
The man extended a hand, respectfully inclining his head. “Commander Liao. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” His tone was polite and formal, but Liao sensed a subtle underlying coldness about it, and she doubted the sincerity of his words.
Still, she gave him a firm handshake. It wouldn’t be the first time her reputation had preceded her. “Likewise. I hope you’re taking good care of the Beijing, sir.”
Vong moved to the head of the table, easing himself into a seat. “She’s in good hands, Commander. Don’t worry about that.” He pulled a small notepad out of one of his pockets and snapped off a pen clipped onto the side. “We’ve enjoyed a modest amount of success working alongside the Rubens to harass Toralii shipping lanes and the like.”
Liao felt a slight pang of annoyance at his use of the word she, but by her own logic, she could not deny the logic behind its use. Liao had claimed, somewhat as a matter of pride, that although tradition dictated that a ship was always a woman, this was only because the captain was married to the job. When it came to the Beijing and its female captain, of course, that would make the ship a man.
But she was no longer in command, and to argue this fairly minor quibble would be inappropriate. She inclined her head. “Warbringer Avaran indicated that the shipping harassment was of little consequence to him, sir.”
“Warbringer Avaran is entitled to his opinion, but to be frank, Commander, the opinions of Toralii mean little to me.”
Liao wondered for a moment if that opinion extended to Saara. “Well, in any event, he didn’t seem to care that we were doing it, sir. Are there any plans to alter the Beijing’s current area of operations?”
Vong jotted a few notes down on his pad, and Liao tried to read the characters upside down. “After the investigation of Belthas IV has been completed, the Beijing will return to assaulting the Toralii supply network. As the least capable of the four existing Pillars, this is a job well suited for it.”
Liao had to remind herself that Vong had been pressed into this task after retirement and probably was not as attached to the ship as she was. “The least capable, sir? The Beijing is identical to the other Pillars.”
“Damage sustained in the engagement at Cenar has rendered the port rail gun inoperative. It is fixable, but with the more advanced Washington and Madrid now available for combat operations, it is less critical to have all three original ships at maximum capability. Rather than spend months on the Luna dry dock repairing a single embedded system, the Beijing should make itself useful. Even with a single rail gun and sparing use of nuclear devices, the Beijing has sunk considerable tonnage during your absence.”
She kept her tongue and tried to keep her tone steady. “I understand, sir. And any attack on the Toralii infrastructure is a solid tactic. However, the Toralii Alliance is vast. Saara told me they have over sixty star systems that are directly settled and thousands that have outposts, research stations, or unmanned settlements. Even if the Beijing is destroying two ships a day, the amount of trade that goes on between those systems is significant. I’m sure there are better ways to harm them than destroying a few freighters, sir.”
“You see, Commander Liao, that’s the difference between you and meI.” Commodore Vong clicked his pen closed, slowly folded both arms onto the table, and leaned forward. “I’m quite content for my ship to score safe victories, reliably and evenly, without resorting to personal heroics. Under my command, the Beijing has suffered no significant damage whatsoever. We’ve lost no strike craft, except one damaged in a training mishap and returned to service, and our victories have been predictable, clean, and comfortablee. The worst injury we’ve sustained is the head of the marines pulling a muscle. We’re inflicting steady damage on the Toralii, and we’re doing it every single day of the week. Over the course of my command, we have sunk more estimated tonnage than the Tehran and the Beijing did combined at Kor’Vakkar, and we didn’t have to execute a blind jump on the word of an alien, cripple two ships, and lose the lives of nearly seventy crewmen to do so. Even setting aside the loss of life, factoring in how long the Beijing alone has spent in repairs, in terms of tonnage sunk per week, the ship is doing better under my command than yours.”
“I wasn’t aware it was a competition, sir.”
Vong gave her a cool stare. “War is a game of economics. We have to make it clear to the Toralii that antagonising us will cost them, regularly and consistently. A few spectacular losses don’t frighten economists as much as a steady stream of red in their ledger.”
Liao didn’t have anything to contest Vong’s assertion. True, the Beijing had spent most of its operational lifetime being repaired, but the slow harassment of the Toralii shipping lanes seemed woefully ineffective to her. What was the point of it all if their presence wasn’t even being felt?
They sat together in uncomfortable silence until the door swung open again. Liao was relieved to see James enter.
“Captain Grégoire,” she said, keeping her tone distant.
“Commander Liao.” James gave her a professional smile, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see Vong’s face tighten slightly. Their relationship had been fodder for the tabloids, and it wass impossible to think that Vong wouldn’t know of it.
Right on James’s heels came Captain Knight, who took a seat on the other side of the table, giving Liao a friendly nod.
“Good evening, Captain,” she said.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Commander Liao. I hope your little rascal’s doing well.”
She smiled. “She’s here if you want to see her after the briefing.”
“I’d like that.” He rested his hands on the table, closed his eyes a moment, and blinked a few times.
“Long night?” Liao asked.
“Long few months,” he answered, “with more to come.”
The last two people to arrive, Captain Lale Harandi and Flight Lieutenant Mike Williams, came in together. Liao had to remind herself that, certainly with Commodore Vong present, it would be inappropriate to refer to Williams as “Magnet.”
“Captain Knight.” Williams took a seat opposite his former commanding officer.
Liao spent a moment looking at the man she’d heard a fair bit about but had not had the chance to meet personally. He was a tan-skinned Australian with heavy facial scars creating a broken, uneven face that Liao couldn’t consider even ruggedly handsome. That said, she knew he was one of the best pilots in the fleet; she knew, more than anyone, that although people intrinsically trusted attractive people and preferred to be around them, when the chips came down, the one single skill that mattered in war was how effectively a person could kill their enemies.
Noticing her staring, Williams gave her a curt nod. “Commander Liao, I’ve heard a lot about you, ma’am.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” she replied. “Your reputation precedes you. How fares the Rubens?”
“Very well. It’s a Toralii ship, so we’re not entirely sure we’re sailing her right, but they’ve packed a lot of firepower into a very small space. The fact that she’s got a working Toralii transponder and they don’t appear to have noticed that the ship’s missing has been remarkably useful. We’ve got intel from locations you could only dream of.”
“Good,” Liao said. In her mind, the Rubens was a far better fit than the Beijing at this task of harassing Toralii shipping lanes; the only thing the Beijing had going for it was its immense strength, but even at the height of its power, with both rail guns intact, it had taken all three Pillars of the Earth to make a solid stand against a single Toralii cruiser. A smaller, faster, repurposed alien vessel was much more likely to slip away unnoticed. “What are the plans for the ship’s future?”
“Well, a lot of our strength comes from our covert operations. If we do too many of them, we risk blowing our cover, so we’re off for a few months to lay low, rearm, refit, see if we can coax a little more power out of the Toralii systems, and let the intel guys climb all over them for a while; then we’re right back out there.”
“What about the command structure?” asked Commodore Vong. “Are there any plans to rotate the crews?”
Williams shook his head. “None yet. The crew is a volunteer-only outfit taken from all over the fleet. We’re a tight, cohesive unit, and franklyy, we’re just a little nuts. If we’re caught, it’ll be a lifetime in whatever gulag the Toralii Alliance is using instead of Cenar—or worse. Guerrilla warfare and intelligence work is technically a mixture of spying and terrorism, and if our own cultures are anything to go by, people tend to take a dim view of both.”
Liao could see he disapproved of the notion but gave Williams a reassuring nod. “I understand completely.”
Vong cleared his throat. “Let’s turn to something elses, shall we?”
Nods around the table.
“The Toralii have a problem,” Liao began. “Two problems, really. The first of them, the occupation of Belthas IV, is short term, but the loss of their fleet’s a lot more substantial. It might be tempting to suggest that their problems are our advantage, but it’s important to realise one thing; the Toralii have been in charge of all they survey for hundreds of years—it’s true—but they’re not the only species with a fleet of ships out there. A dramatic shift in the balance of power is not something that will favour us.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” said Williams. “From what I’ve seen of the Toralii in the field, behind their lines, it’s a very disorganised but very powerful web of planets, all protected by their fleet. If they have lost one third of their naval assets and word of this spreads, strands of that web are going to be stretched. Some are going to be broken. From what we know of the Kel-Voran, they’re certain to take advantage of this. If the Kel-Voran go all out on the Toralii Alliance, given their weakened state, it’s unlikely they’ll care about us.”
Murmurs of agreement around the table.
“It seems,” said Liao, “that we have a few courses of action open to us. Although they’re weakened, the Toralii are still the five-hundred-pound gorilla when it comes to planet-spanning empires. The Kel-Voran are probably more numerous, but they’re so factional I doubt they could stop squabbling amongst themselves for the few years it would take to become a genuine threat to the Toralii. So one course of action we can take is to assist the Toralii Alliance if we can, with the help of whomever we can muster, and then hopefully earn amnesty regarding the use of jump technology.
“Alternatively, we can let whatever will happen play out. Let the Kel-Voran sink their teeth into the Toralii, hope it’s enough to keep them distracted and their attention away from us. There’s a number of advantages to this, most notably that we avoid as much combat as we can. The disadvantage, of course, is that one Toralii cruiser was a sufficient challenge for three of our ships at their prime and in a dedicated defensive posture. Avaran asked for our help; if we spurn that request, it wouldn’t be out of his character to simply send three ships to completely crush us.” Liao looked to Commodore Vong. “What does Fleet Command say?”
“Fleet Command is of the opinion that the Cerberus outpost gives the solar system an impressive defensive posture. With the defences at Mars being strengthened every day, and a secondary ring of satellites being installed around Earth, they are less concerned with the possibility of attack via the Lagrange points. If an all-out assault against Earth is launched, Fleet Command believes it will be launched by ships appearing at the outer edges of the solar system and travelling slowly inward. It is estimated that this will give Earth a year to prepare, which should be sufficient.”
Liao, having faced a Toralii cruiser and outnumbered it three to one, didn’t feel as confident as Fleet Command appeared to, when it came to their ability to fight off a Toralii assault. The Cerberus blockade was powerful, yes, but the Beijing, the Tehran, and the Sydney together had stood toe to toe with just one of the alien ships and had only survived because the Tehran had rammed it.
“I would not be so certain,” Liao glanced at Harandi, “of our ability to resist a determined push by the Toralii. Saara has expressed the opinion that our strength will hold, but with full respect to her and her knowledge, and also to Captain Harandi and her station, Saara is only a pilot… and she is Telvan. She may not be aware of all the Alliance’s latest tricks, and there’s a very real risk that our entire blockade is a façade. The Toralii Alliance have made it their business to win, completely and utterly without question, every war they’ve engaged in for the last few hundred years, and they’ve chosen to engage in many. This, if nothing else, should give us significant reason to be concerned.”
“To be honest,” Harandi said, “I sometimes wonder about the same thing. The French, after World War I, built the Maginot Line: a supposedly impenetrable wall of defences along the French-German and French-Italian borders to defeat further aggression from the east. The Nazis, however, simply went around it by invading Belgium.”
“We didn’t see that one coming,” quipped Grégoire. Liao smirked at the Belgian man and then regained her composure.
Liao studied the faces around the table. “It’s my opinion that if the wrath of the Toralii navy fell upon us, we’d be dogs barking at the lightning, trying to fight something we just couldn’t understand.” She paused for a moment. “But fortunately, we don’t have to decide today. All we promised Avaran was that we would investigate, so I think our first step should be to look into what happened at Belthas IV.”
“Agreed,” said James.
“If we send the Sydney, the Tehran, and the Beijing,” offered Knight, “this is not only an impressive show of force, but it allows us to keep the Madrid and the Washington in reserve. With a little luck, the Toralii may not know we have two more ships.”
“And the Rubens,” added Williams.
Knight nodded. “And the Rubens. With all due respect to Captain Harandi, I think it’s important to remember that wars aren’t won with static defences. We need to reach out and touch the Toralii before they find a map of Belgium and find a way past this impressive, but stationary, blockade.”
Liao cast a glance at Knight, trying to read his expression. On one hand, a strong show of force would be appropriate, and they couldn’t cower behind the Cerberus station for the rest of eternity. On the other, Vong had a good point. They couldn’t afford to overstretch themselves.
But how much of Knight’s suggestion to leave the two newest and most advanced ships in the fleet in reserve was based upon the fact that the Madrid and the Washington had not yet seen proper combat or even had a lengthy shakedown cruise? The Sydney was, of the three original Pillars, the ship most affected by teething issues. Did he fear that the Madrid and the Washington would suffer similar problems?
Liao looked to Vong. “It’s your call, sir.”
Commodore Vong, silent for some time now, didn’t answer immediately. He sat, his hands steepled in front of him, resting his chin on the top of his fingers. “I think,” he said, “there’s a lot of guessing going on and not a lot of fact. It’s clear we don’t know enough about what’s occurred on Belthas IV to make an accurate game plan, and the incident—along with the subsequent significant loss of Toralii naval assets, if confirmed—is a serious matter worthy of investigation, especially if the construct known as Ben is involved. Accordingly, I’m inclined to agree with Captain Knight. Send three ships to Belthas IV with the goal of learning what we can. One of our goals should be initiating dialogue with Ben if such a thing is possible.
“The Rubens, I feel, needs to spend some time lying low. What Lieutenant Williams proposed is an excellent plan of action. The Rubens’s crew have earned some leave, Flight Lieutenant; make sure they enjoy it.”
Williams’s scarred face lit up. “I will, sir.”
“May I make a suggestion, sir?” asked Liao.
“Proceed,” said Vong.
“We found Ben on the wreckage of the Giralan on Karathi, deep within Toralii space. We didn’t spend a great deal of time exploring the derelict, but there may be some intel to be found there if we sent down a team to investigate. Avaran gave us permission to enter Toralii Alliance space for the purposes of gathering information about Ben, so I suggest we use this offer to the best of our ability. When the Washington arrives, sir, perhaps they can be sent to see what their crew can pick from the bones. It would be a useful pseudo-shakedown cruise and a good test of their jump drive, too.”
Liao could see Vong didn’t approve, but he didn’t immediately say no. After some consideration, he folded his hands. “I think we should, instead, send just the Beijing to talk to Ben and send the Sydney to Karathi. Ben destroyed a staggering number of Toralii Alliance ships without breaking a sweat; a ‘show of force’ of just three of our ships isn’t going to matter one bit. Sending just the Beijing will show we’re there to talk. I’m not comfortable sending the Washington so far away, and possibly into danger, when she’s still unproven. The Sydney can handle that task. We’ll keep the battle-proven Tehran here with the Washington and the Madrid. Anything else?”
This line of reasoning was sound, and Liao found herself agreeing with Vong. “No, sir.”
Vong returned his pen to his pocket. “Very well, then. Commander Liao, I’d like to request your presence aboard the Beijing for this mission. You know Ben better than any of us.”
The idea of being sent on a mission on her original ship, even if she wasn’t in command anymore, excited her. “Very good, sir.”
Vong looked around the table. “If there’s nothing else, dismissed.”
Cerberus Station
Spotting Williams in a corridor, Liao power-walked to catch up to him, excusing herself whenever she had to push past someone.
“Sorry, Lieutenant Williams?”
He turned, giving a lopsided smile with his strange, heavily scarred face. He had a half-dozen thick, wide scars running from his forehead to his chin at a forty-five degree angle, with numerous smaller scars where stitches and corrective surgeries had obviously taken place. The effect was a face that was thick, leathery, and uneven.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Liao inhaled slightly, steadying herself. “They call you Magnet, don’t they?”
“That’s my call sign, ma’am.”
“On the Rubens, too?”
He raised a scarred eyebrow. “Pilots are a strange breed, and the Rubens’s an even stranger beast. We run with a small crew on a smaller ship, performing highly risky feats of derring-do well beyond enemy lines.” He glanced over his shoulder for a moment and then back to Liao. “Don’t tell Commodore Vong, but although I’m in command, rank matters little on my ship. It’s mostly pilots or crew from the Sydney anyway, so we run things pretty informally. Why?”
Liao grinned. “Well, for the longest time, we thought that when Avaran was talking about this ‘lone, stolen ship,’ he was talking about the Rubens.”
Magnet laughed, shaking his head. “Really?”
“Yeah. You should have seen our faces, I guess. We were all trying to understand how you’d taken a planet… much less held it against a third of the Toralii fleet.” She gave a cheesy smile. “You’d be more famous than me, and you wouldn’t even have to sleep with Captain Grégoire.”
Magnet smirked. “He’s a bit out of my league. Besides, I got a nice girl back home.”
“Great. Want a free piece of advice? Use a condom.”
He looked strangely, distinctly uncomfortable at that suggestion, and Liao for a second wondered why.
“So, I’m Magnet, the planet conqueror, huh?”
“That’s what we thought, yeah.”
“I’m struggling to understand how a victory of that—ahem, magnitude—could have been accomplished.”
She laughed. “Yeah, yeah. So were we. We still are, I suppose, but don’t worry. We’re going to find out.” Liao paused. “In the meantime, I have a favour to ask you.”
He tilted his head. “Sure.”
“James and I weren’t expecting to be recalled, so we brought our child. There was some personal threat against me, so we didn’t feel safe leaving her on Earth without us. But now that we know nobody’s going to knife me in the dark, I think she’s safer there, really. There’s a very good chance these ships are going to see combat again, and she’s just a baby. So… when you head back on leave, would you take her with you? There’s a babysitter in New York who’s basically a full-time house sitter now, and I’ll happily reimburse you for any costs—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “She can stay with us if you like. Penny will love her. She’s always adored kids, and a trip to New York sounds perfect. Believe me; it would be my privilege.”
Relieved, Liao nodded. “Great. Just pick her up from Ensign Mohammadi’s quarters before you leave. I’ll let her know you’re coming.”
“Will do, Captain. Good hunting.”
She smiled. “Enjoy your leave.”
Magnet turned and left, and Liao stared at his back until he turned down a corridor and disappeared. She began walking back the way she had come, but Rowe appeared through the crowd of people.
“Hey Cappy, off to see the CO of the Madrid?”
Liao blinked. “I thought they weren’t due in for a day.”
“Nah, they came in earlier while you were at the meeting. I figured you’d wanna know.”
Liao smiled. “Thanks for the heads up, Summer. Walk with me; we might as well see if we can meet him together.”
Rowe fell into step with her, and together the two made their way forward towards the docking ring. When they arrived, it was abuzz with activity; the Cerberus station was not a large outpost, and Liao could guess that the number of people arriving was probably beginning to exceed the comfort level for the existing crew.
The Madrid, as the name implied, was primarily crewed by elements from the various EU member states. Liao scanned the sea of heads, trying to find anyone of suitable rank.
“Melissa Liao,” said a man wearing captain’s epaulets and moving out from the crowd, “as I live and breathe. Heard you might be here.”
The voice triggered a memory. The name “de Lugo” had been rattling around in her head ever since James had mentioned it, but now, seeing his face and hearing his voice, Liao’s eyes widened, and she felt herself flush. “Alano?”
Alano de Lugo stepped within handshaking distance, reached out, and smiled widely. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. It’s been a while.”
The first night Liao and James had slept together, they had consumed an excessive amount of strong alcohol. Amongst the various conversation topics—Saara and what to do with her, Spanish as the language of “sexy space lust,” and others—Liao had insisted she’d never had sex with another officer. However, almost in the same breath, she’d drunkenly confessed that, during officer candidate school, a “sculpted Adonis” from Spain had visited her co-ed boot camp. Specifically, she’d said he was gorgeous, with a chest that looked as if it were carved from marble, and that during his stay, Liao and he had engaged in some “interoffice networking.”
And Alano had barely changed, despite being over fifteen years older.
She awkwardly extended her hand. “It has been a while, yeah. How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you.” He took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze.
Liao had no idea what to say. “So, that’s your ship, huh?”
“That’s my ship.”
“How’d you swing that command?”
“It’s fairly simple, really,” de Lugo said with his heavy Spanish accent. “The physical demands on a spacefaring captain are much harsher than those of an oceangoing one, so the military is looking for fitter, healthier, younger officers for command positions.”
Fit he was, too. Liao nodded politely. “Right. Well, congratulations. You earned it.” She pointed down the corridor. “We just had the mission brief. In short, the Madrid is staying in town while we go out and have some fun.”
De Lugo smiled his wide, perfect smile. “Have fun. We’ll mind the fort while you’re gone.”
Liao nodded in agreement as one of de Lugo’s crewmen approached bearing a manila folder.
“That’ll be orders from the Commodore,” she noted as he took the folder and flipped it open. “I’ll leave you to it.”
De Lugo nodded politely, and with that, Liao and Rowe stepped away, walking away from the large crowd of disembarked crew towards the more empty and quieter corridors of the ship.
“You’re drooling, Summer,” Liao observed.
“Fucking oath, I’m drooling.” Rowe craned her neck, looking over her shoulder and trying to spy more of the Spanish captain. “Where the fuck do I get one of those?”
“Spain.”
“Can we go to Spain?”
“No, Summer. We have aliens to blow up.”
“Fuck aliens. I want a piece of that.”
“Thank you, Summer. Enough.”
“Bet he’s got a great big fucking cock, too. I bet he has.”
“I suppose it’s okay.”
Rowe laughed, reaching over and clapping Liao on the shoulder. “Yeah, like you’d know.”
After an awkward silence, Rowe’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. No way. No fucking way. You’ve never been to Spain!”
She frowned at her friend as she felt a warm flush creep up her neck. “It was an officer exchange program—”
“No fucking way!”
“It was a long time ago—”
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“It was just a thing. We were young. I had no idea he was going to—”
Rowe burst out laughing, a loud, barking laugh that caused eyes to turn upon them.
“Quiet!” Liao hissed. “This is embarrassing enough as it is!”
Rowe leaned closer, grinning impishly. “I know.” Rowe clicked her tongue. “So, tell me; is there a captain in the Task Force you haven’t slept with yet?”
Liao, completely struck dumb, had nothing to say. Rowe laughed like a lunatic and wandered off down the corridor, leaving her standing around like a lost child. She gathered her wits and stormed off down the passage in the other direction, almost running into Saara.
“Saara, thank God.” Liao sighed in exasperation. “Please tell me you’re not going to make my day any worse than it already is.”
Liao expected levity, but she could see that Saara’s face was clouded with anger. [“Reluctantly, I can make no promises about that, Commander.”]
Frowning, Melissa reached out for Saara’s arm, but the Toralii pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
[“Is it true that you had a meeting with Captain Harandi, Captain Grégoire, Captain Knight, and Commodore Vong?”]
Liao inclined her head. “Yes, it was called by Vong. It finished about ten minutes ago or so. Why?”
Saara’s dark gaze fixed on her, and Liao felt distinctly uncomfortable. She was reminded of how Saara had seen her during their early days, when she was a prisoner aboard the Beijing, an enemy kept captive and not a friend.
[“Why did you bring me here?”]
“I’m… sorry?”
[“Why did you bring me to this station? Why do your people have me here?”]
Liao stammered in confusion. “Y-you’re my friend, but you’re also very knowledgeable about the Toralii and so much more than that. It’s a huge galaxy out there, and we’ve only begun to understand a tiny bit of it. Your advice has been completely invaluable.”
[“So they tell me. Why, then, was I not invited to the briefing? Why do you spurn my council?”]
Liao frowned. “I’m sorry. There’s so much going on, and it was Vong’s meeting. I just didn’t think to invite you.”
[“You are correct,”] Saara growled. [“You did not think. What else am I to do on this station? I am the de facto Telvan representative for your species. I am trying to help you, to guide your species away from the path mine took. Of becoming warmongers, murderers, hoarders of technology, a broken species without a homeworld due to our folly. I had to learn what transpired from James, and quite a shock it was to hear that you are making plans without me.”]
Liao blinked in surprise. “I assumed James would have asked you there if he wanted you. He’s your CO now; I thought that would have been the most appropriate course of action!”
[“Melissa, you are my friend. This fact transcends command structure.”] Saara’s judging gaze burned into her. [“I expected better from you.”]
Liao inhaled, closing her eyes and bringing her emotions under control. When she opened them, she had to fight to keep her breathing steady. “I’m very sorry. Everything you’ve said is true. I’ve… I’ve been away from this for so long; it will take me some time to get back into the swing of things. I’m sorry we didn’t invite you, and we’ll make sure you are there the next time we have a briefing. I promise.”
Saara seemed reluctant, as though she had more to say, but eventually she nodded. [“Very well, Liao. I accept your apology and will attempt to move past this.”]
Liao sighed in relief, managing a soft smile. “Thank you, Saara.”
The Toralii did not smile in return but turned and left, leaving Liao to watch her friend’s back as she walked away.