Lacuna Page 12

  *****

  Operations Room

  TFR Beijing

  L1 Earth Lagrangian Point

  A day later

  LIAO WAS STRONGER THAN THIS. She was stronger than tears, stronger than the hurt Grégoire had done to her, stronger than the realization that she had unwittingly used sex to further her career.

  It was something that had always eaten at her, the idea that she might, one day, seek the easy path and simply take the low-hanging fruit offered to her. And there were many offerings. Naturally, most of the members of the armed forces were men, and in modern Chinese society—again, thanks to the One-Child Policy—a pretty woman of reproductive age and function, even in her early thirties, was something valuable. She could, even now, without much difficulty, find an easy life.

  But Liao did not want an easy life purchased with vapid giggles and pretty looks. This path was one she had chosen for herself.

  “All hands report ready for the jump, Captain.”

  Lieutenant Dao, the chief navigator, twisted in his chair to regard the captain. Liao nodded firmly, absently drumming her fingers on her command console.

  “Good. Power up the jump drive and program in the coordinates. Perform stage four checks and let me know when they’re complete.”

  A swift glance around operations revealed that Summer Rowe, their chief technician for this critical, monumental task, was nowhere to be seen. Liao’s blood pressure spiked in fury. That woman!

  “Has the Tehran received the jump coordinates?”

  Dao nodded. “Double- and triple-checked, ma’am. They’re powering their jump drive and are reporting ready for stage four.”

  Liao heard the noise of the operations hatchway being manipulated. The metal door swung open, revealing a slightly frazzled redhead who slipped sheepishly into the room. Instantly Liao strode over to her, boots clicking as she stepped towards Rowe, hands folded in front of her as she approached.

  “Summer Rowe, front and centre. Answer this question: are you, or are you not, the chief technician for this operation?”

  Blinking in surprise at the aggressive questioning, Rowe nodded confusedly. “Yes.”

  Liao was unable to keep the infuriated edge out of her tone. “Good, because I was beginning to wonder. Perhaps you’d like to explain why you chose to arrive late to this critical operation?”

  “I’m… sorry?” Rowe rubbed the back of her head. “I guess I just overslept.”

  Liao scowled, fixing a dark look on the redhead. “You… overslept? Rowe, this represents a serious breach of discipline, and I’m afraid it’s only the latest in a long string of incidences which I have been gracious enough to overlook due to your civilian status.” Liao drummed her fingers against her opposite arm in aggravation. “I’d like you to explain to me why I should continue to do so, given how frivolously you seem to treat your position aboard this ship.”

  Rowe frowned in anger and confusion. All eyes in the operations room were fixed on the two of them, something that Liao knew made the socially awkward woman even more uncomfortable.

  She didn’t care.

  “I don’t know. I guess… I mean, I’m the best person you’ve got to work this technology, so I guess that’s why you have to—”

  “Rowe, there are literally thousands of highly qualified scientists and engineers back on Earth who would give their right arms to work and live on this ship. You know this; I know this. And I know that they would be respectful, would file their paperwork on time, and would in all things display a sense of discipline, both academic and personal.”

  Liao did not mean to not-so-subtly bring up Rowe's relationship with Aharoni, but the words stumbled out of her mouth before she could even process them. “So what I’m saying, Rowe, is that they, when offered such a prestigious prize as a position aboard my ship, would at least have the common courtesy to show up on time.”

  “B-But—”

  “Enough… I’ll deal with you later. Now, take your station.”

  Abruptly, Liao spun on her heel and marched back to her console, glaring down at it and checking her readings. She could tell in her peripheral vision that many of the operations crew exchanged subtle glances at her uncharacteristic outburst. Rowe, in particular, muttered something unflattering about her to Lieutenant Dao as she passed.

  The minutes ticked down. The last few checks were performed, the heavy decompression doors descended, and the last few procedures were executed as Liao tried desperately to keep her mind on the job and away from her recent troubles with Captain James Grégoire.

  Despite it all, despite everything that had happened last night, for reasons that escaped her utterly, she had chosen to wear the pearls James gave her, carefully tucked underneath her uniform and out of sight. The feel of the polished pearls tucked beneath her neckline gave her some comfort despite the pain he’d caused with his actions.

  She chose to ignore whatever symbolism this feeling represented. Liao had seriously considered not wearing them… but it didn’t seem right. They were a gift, given honestly, and James had gone to extraordinary effort to procure them for her. Today, on this auspicious occasion, Liao chose to be a better person than one who would reject a gift honestly given. She would have to be better; her duty to humanity would demand no less. It wouldn’t be right to bring her petty squabbles into this.

  Not today. Today was a day for making history.

  The chatter and busywork was uncharacteristically quiet in the operations room, and Liao, by now accustomed to the high ambient noise level in the area, found the situation slightly unnerving; even the nigh-constant clacking of fingers on keyboards was strangely muted. Deep down, she suspected that, after the episode with Rowe, nobody on the crew wanted to be her next victim.

  This thought caused her frown to deepen. James—or more correctly, her relationship with James—was causing her and her crew friction. This was exactly what she meant when she’d said there’d be issues if they took it too far, if they allowed their personal feelings to influence their judgement.

  Silence reigned until Dao’s voice broke the spell. “Stage four checks completed, Captain. Coordinates are locked in, and the drive is fully powered. We’re ready to turn the keys.”

  To prevent accidental activation, the jump system required the insertion and simultaneous turning of two individual keys. On each of the three Pillars of the Earth, the commanding officer held one, and the first officer held the other.

  With a single twist of her wrist, the ship and the entire crew would disappear and reappear millions of light-years away. They had no idea what to expect. The event would be the first time in humanity’s history that they would engage a jump drive. It was the first time humans were going to exist outside of the solar system, their cradle—and, of course, the first time they would be making war in another system.

  Pushing those thoughts into the same corner of her mind where she had pushed thoughts of James, Liao gave her first officer a nod then reached into her pocket and retrieved the simple-looking key. Spending a moment looking at the humble thing in her hand, she stepped over to the jump system and waited until Kamal had his key ready too.

  Liao paused, banishing the thoughts of James from her mind through sheer determination. She hoped—hoped beyond hope—that her mind would remain unclouded and focused. To occupy her thoughts, she tried her damnedest to appreciate the significance of what they were about to do, of the great and truly wondrous mission they were about to undertake. She and her crew were about to execute the very first jump in human history, albeit one straight into the middle of an enemy fleet of unknown size, configuration, firepower, and existence. They would do this insane, risky thing, and it would be done by her hand.

  Swallowing her uncertainties, her doubts, and her fears, Liao gave a nod. “Very well, Mister Iraj, set general quarters throughout the ship and seal the decompression doors. Bring all reactors to full power. Arm and ready nukes, charge rail gun capacitors, and evacuate non-critical sections. I
nform Mister Cheung to prepare the marines for action.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to the fresh-faced communications officer, whose name she had learned was Jung Hsin. “Mister Hsin, contact the Tehran. We are jumping in twenty seconds. Mister Ling, disable artificial gravity.”

  The Tehran would jump in thirty seconds behind them. Suddenly weightless, Liao felt her stomach lurch as a slight motion caused her to rise off the floor and slowly float towards the ceiling. Holding on to the jump console, she and her first officer exchanged a final glance and then both pushed their keys in, giving each a half turn to the right. As both keys clicked into place, there was a gentle hum and then… nothing.

  Liao had expected a flash of light or a twist in perspective or some kind of fundamental change in her local environment that would acknowledge the dramatic, intense event that had just occurred. Instead, the only noise was the quiet hum of the ship’s computers and the occasional chirp from a console to break the eerie silence.

  Liao withdrew her key, replacing it within the special pocket on her hip.

  “Report!”

  The previous quiet, which until that moment had seemed utterly palpable, was suddenly broken by dozens of shouting voices.

  “Jump complete, Captain!”

  “Radar online. Multiple contacts!”

  “Rail guns ready, Captain!”

  “Missiles standing by!”

  “Hull plating charged!”

  Artificial gravity came back on, slowly, and Liao floated back down to the deck. In seconds, it was back to Earth normal.

  The voices continued to shout out. Liao, rather than answer each of them directly, had to prioritize. None of the reports sounded negative—no problems so far—so she put her mind to attacking.

  “Tactical! Mister Jiang, give me a sitrep!”

  Jiang’s reply came almost instantly. “One facility, ten thousand kilometres off the port side, Captain. Estimated mass: five hundred thousand tonnes. Six vessels—no, wait, seven vessels—appear to be docked, all of various masses, shapes, and sizes. Most are around eighty thousand tonnes, two are in the two hundred thousand range!”

  Liao gripped her console tightly, nodding. “One nuke each, then, and three for the facility itself. Target centre of mass. Impact detonations. Reload immediately and fire for effect.”

  Jiang’s fingers flew over her keyboard frantically. “Confirm that! Missiles away, Captain!”

  Liao nodded. They had preloaded the rail guns with nukes, too, and now was the time to use them. “Rail guns, target the closest, largest ship. Fire for effect until the target is silent. Keep hitting them until they’re nothing but slag.”

  “Aye aye, Captain. Firing!”

  Lieutenant Ling urgently beckoned Commander Iraj over to her console. Although Liao did not hear what they said, in moments the voice of her first officer cut over the chatter. “Captain Liao! The TFR Tehran reports they have successfully jumped into the system and are engaging the enemy!”

  “Good!” Liao once more put thoughts of James and his actions out of her mind. Now was not the time. “Patch them into our target-control computers so we can cross-reference our information. Compensate for the latency however you can.” She turned back to Jiang at tactical. “ETA on missile volleys?”

  “One minute, Captain. Looking to be good effect on target.”

  Captain Liao nodded, stepping over to stand behind Lieutenant Dao. “Mister Dao, are we still holding in the Lagrangian point?”

  The man nodded. “Yes, Captain. We can jump out as soon as the jump drive is fully charged… so, just over six minutes.”

  Six minutes. A lot could happen in six minutes. Seven ships was more than they were expecting, but at the same time, it was more than they were expecting, and they were all caught completely off guard. If they could destroy all seven of them, that would be a huge blow to the Toralii Alliance.

  Jiang called to her again. “Second missile volley loaded and away, Captain! Rail guns engaged at maximum sustainable rate of fire!”

  “Very good, Mister Jiang! Continue fire for effect!”

  Liao studied the radar screen on Ling's station, watching as the small red dots flew towards the larger, seemingly inactive station.

  “Impact in five, four, three, two, one. Signals have merged. Reading… reading multiple detonations!”

  A wild cheer sprang up from the operations crew. Liao grinned eagerly, nodding. “ETA on second barrage?”

  Jiang tapped a few more keys. “Three minutes, Captain.”

  Liao studied the high-definition radar screen intently. “Focus our long-range radar on the facility and the ships. Any sign of debris?”

  Ling nodded his head. “Some.” He seemed less enthused than Liao had hoped. That generally meant there was something wrong. “There’s been significant contact spread from the initial impacts on the smaller vessels. Based on the debris spread we saw from the scout ship, they’ve probably been heavily damaged, but the larger ships… not so much. The facility, too, seems less affected than I hoped.”

  Liao nodded. “They’re almost certain to be hardened against all kinds of weapons.” She straightened her back, turning to Jiang. “Mister Jiang! Finish off the smaller ships and then focus on the larger ones.”

  A third missile wave flew away from their vessel, the hum of the rail guns a constant beat as they fired barrage after barrage. Loading them with nukes again would take too long and be far too dangerous to do in combat, so the gun crews switched to ferrous rounds, firing their projectiles at unfathomable speed towards the station and larger ships.

  “Captain Liao!” Hsin caught her attention from the communications station. “The Tehran reports that their facility appears to be either a fuel or ammunition depot. Whatever it is, it went up like a light! They jumped in next to it and fired; it blew right up after their first barrage and took out most of the ships docked with it. They’re moving in to mop up what’s left.”

  Despite herself, Liao couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter that James had one-upped her and the efforts of her crew. “No such luck for us, though; our facility is still standing. Congratulate them and continue to receive regular status updates.”

  Jiang spoke up from the tactical station. “Captain Liao, the second missile barrage has impacted on the targets. Once again, multiple detonations, good effect on target.”

  Ling jabbed a finger at his screen. “Captain, the station is launching strike craft! I’m reading… a hundred, at least, possibly two hundred distinct contacts.”

  Liao nodded, they were expecting that. “Mister Jiang, disable master arm on point-defence cannons and inform gun crews to fire at will, weapons free. Signal Major Aharoni and tell him to launch our strike craft. Cross-reference firing solutions with point-defence. I don’t want us shooting down our own birds.”

  “Aye aye, Captain. Point-defence set to weapons free; strike craft away.”

  Liao stared at the various radar displays, watching as the large swarm of strike craft flew out from the Toralii station. Their own craft—heavily outnumbered—flew in to match them. The two clouds merged, and Liao listened to the chatter through an available earpiece.

  “Jazz, break right. Break right!”

  “He’s right behind you. Got him!”

  “Good tone, good tone… Fox two!”

  Liao switched the channels on her headset; she could give no instructions directly to them that would be of any help since the radar signal of the fighter swarms had merged and there was no way to tell who was who. Alex would have to handle it on his own. “Mister Ling, status on targets?”

  The man’s response was heartening. “The smaller vessels appear to have been disabled or destroyed, but the facility is still active. I’m detecting energy discharges. They’re firing at us, and the larger ships are moving away from their mooring stations. But based on the debris field, they’ve all been heavily damaged!”

  The ship shook as the Toralii brought their weapons to bear. The station�
��s batteries opened up, and the rate of fire was intense. Liao could see by the thermal camera image on her command console that most of the shots went wide. The gunners on the station appeared to be less concerned with accuracy than she would have expected. This made avoiding the blasts practically impossible… which, she supposed, would be the whole point.

  “Hull temperature rising!” Jiang called, “Breach on deck four, no casualties!”

  Liao nodded in acknowledgement. No casualties, as expected. The outer sections of all decks were evacuated and, at general quarters, barely pressurized, but it was a bad sign that the aliens were able to punch holes in their ship so easily. The station had much stronger weapons than the scout ship they’d encountered earlier.

  “Dispatch damage control teams to that section,” was Iraj’s command, and Jiang nodded and began speaking into her headset.

  Liao watched on the radar screen as their most recent missiles smashed into their targets. Fortunately, it seemed to have an effect; most of the energy barrage withered and slowed almost to a crawl, and all she could see on the radar screen was a confusing spray of debris. Further, the large cloud of wreckage slowly spreading out from the station seemed to be playing havoc with whatever the Toralii Alliance used for guidance; their aim worsened considerably. Coupled with the reduced rate of fire, the barrages hitting the ship almost completely stopped.

  Ling's shout cut over the chatter. “Captain! Multiple radar contacts—ships are jumping in all over the system. I count… seven, no, eight warships appearing at nearby Lagrange points. More could be beyond the range of our radar. Make that nine!”

  Nine was too many. Way too many. They couldn’t jump into the point that the Beijing occupied, they hoped, but Liao didn’t want to take that chance.

  “We’ve done enough. Recall the strike fighters, and power up the jump drive. Prepare the ship to return to the Sol system. Mister Hsin, signal the Tehran, message as follows: ‘Mission complete. Withdrawing to rendezvous.’”

  “Aye aye, Captain!” Hsin went to work.

  Rowe called over the din. “Jump drive charged, Captain. Ready to cut artificial gravity on your mark!”

  Liao nodded. “Thank you, Rowe, but we’re still waiting on our strike fighters!” She pulled up the ship’s short-range communications handset and spun it to the strike crafts’ communications frequency. She pressed the talk key.

  “Attention all strike craft, this is Beijing actual; all birds return to the ship immediately. Mission complete. We are leaving.”

  She heard Aharoni's voice, charged with adrenaline and energy. “Confirmed, Beijing, we are already RTB!”

  Liao grabbed the console, holding herself and preparing for the inevitable wave of nausea that would accompany the lack of gravity. “Mister Iraj?”

  The Iranian man appeared beside her, key in hand. “Ready, Captain!”

  The surviving Toralii ships opened up on them with everything they had, rocking the ship from stem to stern. The Beijing weathered wave after wave of enemy fire as they waited for their strike craft to return. Liao saw another wave of their missiles strike the giant station and, judging from what she saw on Ling's radar screen, a sudden loss of mass. Their thermal cameras showed the bright stars of secondary explosions within the station and, based on the thin sliver of a crack, the station slowly breaking in half. The rest of that station’s ships floundered and broke apart as the blast waves from nuclear detonations struck them again and again.

  Liao’s short-range communications handset crackled to life. “This is Jazz, all strike craft recovered!”

  Liao gave Dao a meaningful nod and, with the flick of a switch, the gravity disengaged again. Liao’s black hair floated around her face as both officers inserted their keys and twisted them.

  The steady rain of fire hitting the Beijing immediately ceased. There was, once again, a strange silence as nobody knew what to expect.

  “Jump complete, Captain,” came Ling’s report. Liao gave him a curt nod although she couldn’t hold back a fierce grin, either.

  “Excellent. Restore gravity, Mister Dao, and move out of the jump point. Engage the gravity mines. We don't want them following us.” Moments later, Liao’s feet slowly drifted back to the metal deck as gravity gradually returned. She used the jump console to steady herself, breathing an audible sigh of relief as her toes touched the deck.

  “Well done, everyone. Mission complete. Mister Rowe, contact engineering and get a damage report. I want to know how badly my ship got bruised.”

  “A little, but not nearly as bad as they did,” Rowe observed, to low chuckles all around the room. “We smashed them! It was like watching the Yanks get pummelled by the Japanese at Pearl Harbour. They were completely unprepared, and we kicked their asses!” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Captain.”

  Liao raised an eyebrow at that comment, which she thought was a very strange but accurate assessment of the situation. “Agreed, somewhat, but remember that the Japanese ultimately lost that war.” She mulled over the sobering words for a moment before letting her fierce grin return. “So next time, try to compare us to the winners, will you?”

  Turning to face the rest of the crew, she cleared her throat. “But yes, a successful raid.” She shook her head, half with disbelief, half with pride. “Masterfully done, all… You’ve earned your pay today. Drinks are on me. Mister Ling, please contact the Tehran and offer our congratulations to Captain James Grégoire.”

  There was a pause before Ling answered. His voice was quiet and worried. “Uh, Captain Liao?”

  “Yes, Mister Ling?”

  “There’s no sign of the Tehran on our radar, Captain. They haven’t jumped back yet.”

  Commander Iraj frowned in confusion, glancing around the room for confirmation. “That’s… odd. The two ships were supposed to jump back together. Did they misjump? Are you sure they haven’t ended up at a different Lagrange point?”

  “Very sure, Commander. At least, none within our radar range. It’ll take us some time to check all of the points in the system, however, speed of light and all.”

  Liao ordered the radar on a long-range sweep, biting on her lower lip as the minutes ticked by. Lieutenant Ling, with her watching over his shoulder, began checking the nearby Lagrange points, especially the L2 point where the Tehran was scheduled to appear.

  But it did not.

  Fifteen minutes later, with no sign of Grégoire or his vessel, Liao decided that she had given them enough time. “Rowe? We’ve waited long enough. We’re going back for them. Prepare the ship for jump. All hands return to general quarters.”

  There was a nervous shuffle from the redhead. “Wait… we’re going to jump back there?”

  Liao nodded, folding her arms. “That’s correct. The Tehran was supposed to jump back with us; the fact that they have not after a quarter hour shows that they require assistance, assistance I plan to provide.”

  Kamal Iraj appeared by her side, dropping his voice so only she could hear. “Captain, we don’t know the full situation in the Hades system at the moment, but one thing we do know is that we stirred up the hornet’s nest pretty well before we jumped out. If we jump back there now, well… this time they’ll be ready for us. There’ll be another six-minute delay before we can jump out again if we need to, and given how many ships were jumping in there as we were leaving, I’m not sure we could hold out that long.”

  Iraj paused for effect. “Think this through, Captain. We can’t go back. All we can do is wait for the Tehran to make their way back on their own.”

  Liao fixed her gaze upon the Persian man, turning to squarely face her first officer, following Iraj's lead and keeping her voice quiet. “I’m not sure I made myself clear,” she whispered. “The Tehran represents fully one third of the TFR’s naval assets. Although we were sustaining significant fire from the station before we disabled it, the jump point we attacked should be clear. At the very least, we can and should perform a reconnaissance-in-force to assess the si
tuation.”

  One third of the TFR’s naval assets. It was with a sudden wave of anger, shame, and regret that she realized that Commander Sheng had said the exact same words, back during the battle of Jupiter, to try to convince her not to attack the Toralii scout—words she had dismissed him from his post for. She was saying the exact same thing and all for the wrong reasons.

  Iraj considered for a moment, his face screwing up in thought. Liao opened her mouth to take back what she had said, but the Persian man spoke first.

  “Actually, I agree.”

  That took Liao by surprise. She had sensed his regret and was about to change her mind, retract her previous statement, and agree to settle down to wait, but Iraj had apparently come around to her line of thinking.

  Doubt gnawed at her for a moment as she folded her hands in front of her. “Uh, you’re not saying that because I threw the last first officer who questioned my orders into the brig and subsequently shot him… are you?”

  Iraj gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Captain, I… I know James means a lot to you, but that fact alone couldn’t sway me to change my mind. I genuinely think we should assist the Tehran if we can or at least find out what’s going on and why they can’t jump back.”

  Still mildly taken aback by Iraj's agreement, she nodded. Iraj turned away from her, to the rest of the operations crew, clearing his throat.

  “Rowe, prepare the ship for jump.”

  Rowe looked uneasy but nodded. “All right, then. Making jump preparations. Prepare for stage one.”

  She and the rest of the operations crew worked for a time, stepping through the now-familiar routine. Although readying the ship for a jump only took a few minutes once its jump drive was charged, to Liao those minutes seemed to crawl by.

  Soon enough she felt the now-familiar lurch as the artificial gravity was switched off, her hair floating around her head as she and Kamal once again inserted their dual keys and twisted them to the right.

  However, this time, the ship’s systems immediately began screaming at them; dozens of alarms squealing and crying at once. Liao snapped her head around to Rowe's console.

  “What the—report! Report!”

  Rowe thumped her fist against the console. “Jump failed, Captain! There’s a gravimetric disturbance at the jump site. Possibly another ship, possibly a gravity mine. The jump drive’s gone into safe mode to prevent melting itself into slag and ripping the ship to pieces. We’re still in the Sol system.”

  “Safe mode?” Liao echoed Rowe's comment incredulously, her tone laced with confusion. As she spoke, the artificial gravity slowly came back, the operations crew gradually floating back down to the metal of the deck. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Rowe gave another of her trademark derisive snorts, much to Liao’s chagrin. “It means that instead of tearing us apart by jumping into an occupied location, the system cancelled the jump. It’s blown out its capacitors and massively overheated, however, so we won’t be able to jump for some time.”

  Liao gripped her command console so tightly her fingers hurt. “How long is ‘some time’, Rowe? Specifics, please.”

  The redhead shrugged helplessly. “A few hours, best-case scenario. More realistically, half a day. We’ll have to wait until the jump drive cools, and then we can begin the work, which is pretty laborious in and of itself, and—”

  “No. Unacceptable. I need that jump drive now, Rowe, so we can try again—so we can jump to another jump point within the Hades system and then rally with the Tehran at sub-light—”

  Rowe gave a barking laugh. “I’m sorry reality is unacceptable, Captain, but this isn’t some fucking science fiction story where you can just invert the polarity and fix something. And I’m not Montgomery-fucking-Scott. The jump drive is sitting pretty at nearly six hundred degrees Celsius, and it’ll take hours to radiate all that heat out. Now, normally, changing the capacitors takes thirty seconds each, and there are twelve, so six minutes to change. However, we’ll have to shut down the drive completely to try to get that heat away from the core as fast as possible, so we’ll be approaching this from a cold start. Takes five minutes per unit, so right on an hour, and then we have to go through the jump preparation all over again.”

  Liao felt helpless anger building up within her. She turned to Hsin. “Signal the TFR Sydney. I want to speak to Captain Knight. Tell him to charge his jump drive. We’re going to send the Sydney in as a rescue mission. Their jump drive should still be functional and—”

  “—Has been plagued with problems since her launch, Captain.” Iraj stepped up to her again, once again keeping his voice low. “As have most of her systems. The whole reason we’re here is because they’re not combat ready, remember? Besides, what’s to say that they won’t just encounter the same problem and blow out their jump drive too?”

  The man put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Captain. You know there’s nothing we can do but wait now.”

  Melissa was quiet for a moment, and then she just gave a small nod.

  Later

  The minutes turned to hours. Fleet Command had requested a debriefing; Liao had Mister Hsin send through a terse message that, since the Tehran had not yet returned, the operation was not complete, so no debriefing could take place. Fleet Command had sent back a response, but Liao had not bothered to read it. She could guess what they would say anyway.

  Liao did not leave the operations room except for a brief excursion to the head. There, once away from prying eyes and the demanding gazes of her crew, she resisted, somehow, the urge to vomit all over her shoes. Nausea came in waves as if her stomach were being punched and kicked from the inside. She knew it was stress—worry for the missing ship, worry for its missing captain. Ghostly images, fears both rational and irrational, danced through her head, each more brutal and horrid than the last.

  She could not shake the mental image of the Tehran floating in space, her back broken in two, her hull smashed open like an egg under a mallet. And just like an egg, the white atmosphere would pour into the void, followed soon after by the soundless stream of human yolk, sucked out into space to asphyxiate and die. She saw, in her mind’s eye, the faces of Grégoire’s crew facing an ignoble death in the orbit of a dying star millions of light years away from their homes and friends with nobody to mourn them. The families of the crew would have no graves to visit or bodies to bury, their frozen loved ones floating forever through the frigid ink-black emptiness until pulled in by the tiny but inexorable pull of the dead star’s gravity well and—

  The thought was too much for her. She had skipped dinner, so Liao was suddenly reduced to dry heaving over the steel toilet bowl, coughing up saliva and bile. Soon the hacking and wrenching was punctuated with quiet sobs. The sounds were her only companion as her grief finally made itself known.

  They had to go back.

  Liao used the hand towels in the bathroom to clean herself up, glad there appeared to be no residue on her uniform aside from a few spots, which she quickly cleaned up with a dry hand towel. She washed her hands several times, gulped down mouthfuls of freezing cold water, touched up the small amount of makeup she was wearing in the small mirror, and then stepped back out to confront the crew.

  She half expected Iraj or Jiang to be waiting outside the head for her with another of their endless reports, but it seemed as though fate was prepared to grant her at least one small mercy this time. Her walk back to operations was solitary, although when she arrived, she found that the room was a hive of activity.

  “Mister Iraj, status report.”

  Iraj turned to face her. “Captain, we just detected a jump-in at the L2 Lagrange point.”

  A jump-in! Melissa’s heart leaped, her eyes widening. “Good news or bad? Is it our people?”

  Iraj looked as though he desperately wanted to give good news but instead gestured to Hsin. “Communications is trying to raise the ship, Captain, but we haven’t heard a reply to our hails on any frequency. That said, they hav
en’t made any aggressive moves, nor have they made any transmissions of their own that we can detect. Yet.”

  Liao realized she’d been holding her breath. She slowly let it out, closed her eyes a moment and, steadying herself, opened them again. “So… a little from column A, and a little from column B.”

  “That pretty much sums it up, yes.”

  Liao crossed the floor of the operations room, moving over to the communications console. She leaned over Hsin’s shoulder and examined his readings.

  “What about signals in other bands of the electromagnetic spectrum? Anything on thermals?”

  Hsin craned his neck, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Too far away to see anything of interest on thermals, Captain. Way out of range to get anything more than a blob. The resolution on these things just isn’t as high as our radar.”

  Lieutenant Ling called to Liao. “Captain, we’re detecting an active radar signal from the unidentified vessel. They appear to be targeting us… intermittently.”

  Liao clenched her fists. This was strange behaviour for a friendly ship, but it might be something the Toralii would do if they were trying to paint them as a target.

  Something nagged at her, though.

  “Intermittently?”

  “Yes, ma’am. On and off, then on again, then off… but not a steady pulse as a sweep would be. Maybe they’re damaged.”

  Liao frowned. She moved over to Ling’s console, taking in the readings from the passive sensors he was using to observe the unknown ship’s signal. “That doesn’t make any sense. Normally, attempts to scan for targeting information or obtain range should be regular and rhythmic.” She pointed to the screen. “This is anything but.”

  Rowe slipped over to Ling's console. “Lemme see.”

  Liao, unable to learn anything more, stepped aside and let Rowe take a look.

  “There’s a pattern,” Rowe announced almost instantly, “with the radar pulses. It’s not intermittent. Or rather… it is, but it’s not random. It’s repeating. See that? Long, short, short, long.”

  Liao’s eyes widened. “It’s Morse code!” She snatched up a notepad and pencil, scribbling down the signal.

  When it was almost done, she dropped the pencil with a small gasp. She knew the word even before it was finished.

  P-E-A-R-L-S

  Chapter XII

  Salvation