Lacuna: The Spectre of Oblivion Page 4

  “About us as a species, or about you, specifically?”

  Liao smiled slightly. “About me by name.”

  “And what happened to Garn?”

  Her face fell and she let it happen. “The construct known as Ben ripped the jump drive from our ship, disappearing with it and leaving us stranded. The Kel-Voran gave us one of theirs while the other half of their ship held off the attackers. He died defending us.”

  “It’s interesting that an alien who you’d just met would give his life for you, isn’t it?”

  “That’s their way, but I admit that it is extremely odd. My reputation must have spread far.”

  Martin nodded. “I think we can all agree that it has been well earned.” Then to Qu. “No further questions, Your Honour.”

  *****

  Time passed. The arguments were made, back and forth, and the judge was left in deliberation. Finally, when he returned, Liao steadied herself for his judgement.

  “All rise for the verdict.”

  She did, and Judge Qu took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking again.

  “Humanity and all its nations exist in an unprecedented time, a time where the ordinary, the routine, the expected, must be treated with a critical, lenient eye. Our first contact with alien species has not been peaceful and we know now that if the species of man is to exist in this vast universe teeming with life, we are going to have to fight for that right. The actions of Commander Melissa Liao while under the command of the TFR Beijing have not been perfect, but they have been shown to be effective. She has, for the large part, acted within the framework of the behaviour we all expected her to, and she has accomplished incredible things. For this, she should be commended.”

  His features hardened somewhat.

  “But there is a certain element of recklessness in her command style, and I sense that Commander Liao feels that she has something to prove; perhaps being a woman in charge of the most prestigious posting in the People’s Army Navy was not something even she felt capable enough to do. Her lingering doubts caused her to overcompensate and to take risks to prove herself, risks that have sometimes paid off and sometimes lead to catastrophic failures. When we are playing with the fate of the entire species, we cannot have catastrophic failures. We cannot allow ourselves to fail, because the stakes are too high. We cannot risk the extinction of our species.”

  Qu reached for his notes. To Liao, the gesture seemed to be in slow motion, the wait almost impossible to bear.

  “On the charge of dereliction of duty for turning her ship over to the construct known as Ben, I find the defendant guilty. I fine her 750 yuan and place a note in her record.”

  A slap on the wrist. The fine would come out of her wages. Not a concern at all.

  “On the charge of conduct unbecoming an officer, I find the defendant not guilty.”

  She closed her eyes a moment. That was the most sticky of all the charges and, being honest with herself, the charge that she felt least able to avoid.

  “And on the charge of reckless endangerment of fleet assets, I find the defendant guilty. I sentence her to be reassigned to a terrestrial post for twelve months so her command potential can be re-examined, pending the completion of her maternity leave. I proclaim this court to be closed.”

  Qu tapped the gavel against the block and Liao saw her future, in a moment, slip away.

  Chapter II

  “Their Lives, As They Are”

  *****

  New York

  United States

  Six Months Later

  The baby monitor in the centre of her bedside table crackled and, just as she feared, the sound of wailing, compressed through the narrow bandwidth of the radio, filled their bedroom. It was night out. “It’s your turn,” Liao murmured, nudging James with her elbow.

  “Mrrmgnrg, wha-? It is? I thought it was yours.”

  They’d slept more than intended, more than they had thought possible given they were caring for an infant who seemed to enjoy crying as much as she enjoyed spilling the bottles of milk all over her face, chest, the table and the floor. Liao felt James kiss her cheek from behind, his arms around her body like a second blanket, his dark skinned hands holding her close. Safe. Secure.

  “Mmm, you don’t get it. When you’re here on leave, we don’t do turns. You do it all and I sleep, because it’s the only chance. This is my…” she yawned loudly and smacked her lips. “… biannual sleep, so go and don’t complain. Bottle’s in the fridge, middle shelf, usual place.”

  James groaned and slipped out of his warm bed to feed their child. Liao watched him leave.

  Getting the apartment in New York had been something of a necessity. She had initially remained in China, staying with her parents, but Liao had been hounded by the press incessantly. To spare her family the grief and to give herself some peace and quiet, Liao had insisted on going elsewhere. She and James were not to be tabloid fodder, more famous for their illicit affair than the numerous battles they had fought side by side. Although sleep was at a premium for the two of them, even being alone in the room felt intolerable; Liao felt like following him out, to talk while he fed their as-yet-unnamed infant.

  That desire died the moment she closed her eyes again and instantly fell asleep.

  Hours passed as James tended the child. When she finally reopened her eyes, light filtered in through the cracks in the curtains, and she could see that it was morning. Her nose twinged; the savoury scent of cooking reached it, warm and moist, tinged with garlic, butter and spices. Fish, she was certain.

  Climbing out of bed and into the cool, dry air, she made her way across the chilly tiles of their rented apartment following the sound of hissing and frying. James, his ebony skinned body as naked as she, stood by the stove, a large cast-iron frying pan hissing as two slices of fish cooked over the electric pan.

  From her vantage point behind the man, Liao could see the grid of scars along his back. She remembered how James had told her he’d gotten them during his stay with the Toralii Alliance. They had a large, square, metal mesh that would be heated to red hot temperatures and applied directly to the skin. Torture was not a particularly effective method of interrogation as the prisoner would often say anything, true or not, to stop the pain, but apparently the Alliance engaged in the practice anyway. It was, as Saara had once explained to her, part interrogation, part the business of extracting information, part pleasure on behalf of the jailers.

  “How did she go down?” Liao murmured, sleepily draping her arms around his shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze and letting her hands stroke over his pectoral muscles. The warmth of the cooking stove and James’s body warmed her.

  “Pretty well, once she’d been fed. Right back to sleep.”

  “That’s my girl. Is that fish?”

  “Yup. You would not believe how much it costs in this country,” James said, deftly flipping each of the thick strips so the other side was exposed to the heat. “I knew the American economy was still bad, but jeez. How do people afford to eat in this place?”

  “They often don’t,” Liao answered, squeezing him again, resting her cheek against his shoulders. “Things just haven’t been the same in this place ever since the great collapse. Things are looking up for the rest of the world, but… they’re still pretty dark for the U.S.”

  The plate sizzled away as the fish roasted, and Liao realised how hungry she was. “You haven’t cooked this before. Is it nearly done? I’m starving.”

  James laughed, turning his head to rub his cheek against hers. “It hasn’t yet begun, love. Watch and learn. First, we apply a second helping of the garlic butter…”

  Liao moved with James as he stepped to one side and reached for a sifter, pouring in a small pouch of flour and adding a packet of salt. He sifted it into a plastic bowl, added half a cup of milk, then whisked until completely mixed. A tab of butter was tapped into the bowl, then Liao watched him beat the mixture into a thick, creamy batter. A thick helping of
maple syrup, poured out of a bottle emblazoned with a large Canadian flag, was the final ingredient.

  “This is for the fish?” Liao stared curiously at the mixture. She was not a cook, somewhat by choice. It was expected of her, in the post-One-Child-Policy China, that she would grow to be a housewife… cooking, cleaning, fucking. But this was not a life for her. Somewhat defiantly, she had never learnt to cook, so the entire process was slightly alien to her.

  “Are you kidding?” James twisted his head to look at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She rolled her shoulders helplessly, casually pinching his nipple.

  “Ow!”

  She laughed, nipping his ear. “Don’t make fun of my inability to boil water, okay?”

  “Right, right. You can blow up a city from orbit but you can’t cook pancakes.”

  Although the comment was made jovially, Liao immediately thought of Velsharn. The Telvan colony on Velsharn had shown her much kindness, particularly Qadan, their leader, who had shown her hospitality and whom she considered a friend. Yet Ben, bent on revenge, took control of the Beijing and attacked them. On her monitors, she had watched her ship’s missiles plummet through the atmosphere, little falling stars that burst with a radiant light shining over the island, baking the inhabitants to crisps. She remembered walking through the ashes of that place with Kamal, of finding Qadan’s scorched body, and the seared bodies of the children…

  Suddenly, the smell of sizzling fish lost its appeal.

  “How about just pancakes for me, huh?”

  James looked hurt, confused. “You don’t want my fish? It’s my famous garlic butter! This stuff is divine! It is the flesh of the Gods, battered in elemental sex and roasted to perfection on this cheap electric stove. You have to try some.”

  Liao felt nauseous. It felt like morning sickness, but different. This was entirely emotional. “No. I’m sure it’s really good, but seriously, just pancakes for me.” She forced a smile, giving his bare chest a firm squeeze. “Make it a double helping.”

  James seemed concerned for her, but he shrugged it off. “A double helping it is. More ultra-fish for me, I suppose.”

  She reached down, slowly stroking her hands over his taunt abdomen. “You’ll get fat,” she cautioned. “Then you’ll get thrown off your ship, too.”

  James began pouring out the pancake batter with one hand, flipping the sizzling fish strips with the other. “Well, if I did get the boot, it would mean more sex, though. That’d be nice.”

  “Wouldn’t it just.” Liao pursed her lips, resting her chin on his shoulder and rubbing it back and forth. “How… is the ship, anyway?”

  “The Tehran or the Beijing?”

  “The ship. My ship.”

  James lifted the fish and flipped it again. “Commodore Vong is a fine CO,” he admitted. Liao tensed slightly but tried to keep herself under control. “But he’s no Liao. He’s more experienced at the command side of it, yes, and he actually gets his paperwork in on time, but he’s not as… elegant as you were when it came to command of a spaceship, nor as bold. The crew misses you, Saara in particular. Rowe mouthed off to him over some trivial matter and got herself replaced as the chief of engineering. She’s now just an ‘adviser’ and not very happy about it. Chang tore a muscle during one of the counter-insurgency drills and has been off recovering for the last two months… Alex and Rowe split up again, but then got back together. The Broadsword Switchblade was damaged in a training exercise and only just started flying again… so, you know. Same old, same old, really.”

  “Nothing too serious, then. Glad to hear it. What about the Tehran? How’s your ship holding up?”

  James put a wide frying pan on the second hot plate, letting it warm up. “Well, the alliance with the Kel-Voran has solidified, thanks to the efforts of the Sydney crew. We attacked an Alliance supply convoy headed for one of their shipyards, blew up a fairly impressive amount of tonnage, but that’s not the best part. Our marines captured a Toralii scout ship after the Beijing disabled its engines.”

  Liao blinked, slowly raising her head. “I would have thought you’d mention that when I asked about the Beijing, but… wait. We took a Toralii ship?”

  “Same configuration as Saara’s old vessel. We’ve rechristened her the Rubens. We’re using her and some ships from the Sydney to run black ops, wreaking havoc in the Toralii supply chain... Magnet’s leading the wing. Doing a pretty fine job, too.”

  “Magnet?” The name triggered some kind of memory in her, of a pilot from the Sydney who was wounded in the assault on the Toralii mining colony. Captain Knight had told her that he was making a fine recovery; it seemed like he’d survived his ejection and subsequent spacewalk just fine.

  James reached out for a stick of butter, slowly smearing it over the empty frying pan. “Flight Lieutenant Mike Williams, call sign Magnet. Some hotshot from the Sydney. Ugly mother fucker, but he’s a great pilot. He was on the crew that negotiated with the Kel-Voran… Now he’s moving up in the world. Their ship is due back shortly, actually. With a bit of luck, you might be able to meet him.”

  Liao gripped his shoulder, closing her eyes a moment. “I don’t think so. I’m nobody now, remember? I get the occasional television interview and that’s it. Trust me, caring for our girl is a full time job.”

  There was a quiet pause as the butter began to melt. “I was thinking,” began James. “Did you like the name Jasmine?”

  Jasmine. It was a nice name, but Liao shook her head. “Not really. It seems… pretentious.”

  “My cousin’s named Jasmine.”

  Liao yawned lazily, clicking her tongue. “Well, your cousin has a pretentious name then.”

  “We have to decide sometime. She’s three months old… We can’t keep calling her ‘the baby’. You have to give her a name soon. She’ll be talking before you know it.”

  “James, I told you about this… Names are important to me. I can’t make this decision lightly.”

  “I know. I’m happy to wait, but still… We should decide sooner rather than later.”

  “Okay, okay, okay. We will.”

  “Good.”

  “Oh, someone’s writing a book about our sex-ploits, by the way.”

  James laughed as he gently brushed the surface of the pan with a little extra butter to grease it. “Oh?”

  “Mmm, a fictionalised version of us and our sordid, career-ending affair. She’s calling it Playing Amongst the Stars. It’s some kind of steamy erotic romance. We’re going to be superstars. The publisher asked for a raunchy photo for the cover, and I even got a call from a men’s mag asking for a naked shoot. They were paying pretty damn well, too: fifteen grand each.”

  James snorted dismissively. He seemed, for a moment, to be offended. Liao reached around and touched his chin, turning his face to her.

  “I said no to both of them. You know that, yeah?”

  He smiled. “I know.” James reached for the batter, pouring out a pancake roughly fifteen centimetres wide. The smell of it cooking merged with the smell of the fish, helping to dampen the scent of roasted flesh, for which Liao was quietly grateful. Her hands idly explored James’s chest.

  “So tell me more about this Rubens, then. I didn’t hear about that on the news.”

  James smirked at her. “Of course you didn’t. Technically, that’s top secret, highly classified operating information that’d probably get me put up against a wall and shot if I told anyone, especially someone who was currently on leave.”

  “Tell anyone what?” Liao remarked, smiling and kissing his cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul. If you get shot, I’ll be sad. Kind of. Who would cook for me then?”

  He laughed, testing the pancake’s edge with the spatula. “Summer?”

  “Phht. That lunatic would burn down my kitchen just to see what the flames look like.”

  “Saara?”

  “Eh, she probably would. How’s she doing under Commodore Vong?”

  James looked s
urprised. “You didn’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Saara transferred to the Tehran. She’s just finishing up some things in orbit, then she’s going to come visit.”

  Liao’s features brightened. “Well, you’re full of good news today.”

  Liao slid her hand to James’s, taking the spatula and cutting off a piece off the pancake. She wiggled it under the fork and brought it up to her lips, blowing on it a few times before popping it into her mouth. “Not bad.” She swallowed.

  “Just not bad? Phht. It’s my cooking. It’s always amazing.”

  “Right, right.”

  They ate, for a time, laughing and joking, the hot pancakes burning their mouths. When their meal was consumed, James tugged her towards the shower, but Liao stopped him.

  “You got the condoms, right?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Stop asking me that.”

  Liao pointed to the other bedroom where their infant was sleeping soundly. “Hey, you want another one of those? Do ya?”

  He shook his head and, laughing, the two stepped into the bathroom.

  *****

  Four days later

  Liao, cradling her infant, pulled open the door with a wide smile, barely able to keep her excitement in check. These days, it was rare that she received visitors, even rarer that they were her friends making social calls.

  “Come in, Saara. Please. Don’t mind the mess.”

  The Toralii woman, flanked by two marines, stepped through the door. Liao moved out of the way for them, smiling incessantly. Her friend’s visit was highly anticipated; Liao had been pestering James to give her time off and it had been, finally, granted. Despite warning her of the mess, Liao had done her best to clean the apartment before Saara’s arrival and had even spent some money getting fresh flowers for the vase, something that cost her a pretty penny.

  [“Thank you, Commander.”]

  Liao waved Saara’s guards away. “I’ll be okay with her; I promise.”