Lacuna: The Spectre of Oblivion (22 page)

She idly flicked her fingernail over the trigger, dragging it across the plastic. A faint clicking noise echoed around the airlock. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty impulsive right now. Don’t know what I might do. Open the airlock door, Ben.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Liao.”

Liao snorted with sardonic laughter. “Oh, if only Summer were here to hear you say that.” She used her thumb to pull back the hammer, readying the pistol to fire with even the lightest pull of the trigger. “You went to a great deal of trouble to bring me here, to show me these… these
things
you’ve created, and I really don’t think you’re going to be willing to let me blow my brains out all over this airlock.”

Ben’s tone carried an edge of quiet malice that Liao had never heard in his voice before, a subtle change that carried through the drone’s tiny speaker. “You’d be surprised what I’d be willing to do.”

Liao would not be cowed so easily. “Me too.”

“Well then, I guess we’re at an impasse,” Ben admitted, “since I control the airlock door and you control the trigger on your pistol. This will end exactly one of two ways. Either you shoot yourself, or I back down.”

“Seems that way. But I’m not as patient as you. Maybe I’ll just get bored and do it right now.”

“Or maybe,” said Ben, “I’ll do what I did to the Toralii fleet—engage this vessel’s voidwarp device and jump to a location within the space currently occupied by the
Beijing
, displacing an area the volume of my ship at the speed of light, vaporising the majority of the
Beijing
’s mass instantly. An ignoble end to a vessel that has accomplished so much.”

Liao thought of the expanding debris field. The Toralii had been killed instantly, far too quickly to escape or warn the other ships. “Why do you even want me to stay anyway?”

The drone chuckled in Ben’s voice. “Oh, don’t worry about that, Commander. Besides, I don’t have time to explain it before the
Beijing
’s marines blow down the door and give you your heroic escape.”

“What?”

There was a dull, muted explosion that vibrated through the metal of the deck. Liao twisted her neck, looking out the thick perspex window to the hangar bay. A Broadsword gunship barrelled into the large open space, landing skids extended as it slid at reckless speed onto the deck. Before it had even stopped, the large mouth of the loading ramp began to extend, and Liao could see helmeted figures beyond carrying the heavy automatic grenade launcher developed specifically for ship-boarding operations. The Bearded Dragon, they called it.

Liao turned back to the drone. “You knew they were coming the whole time?”

“Of course. I see using the ship’s eyes. My ability to multitask far outpaces your own. I’m performing thousands of tasks at this moment, including monitoring your ship and its useless flailing.”

She imagined the outside of the ship, rotten and covered in weapons. “You could have stopped them at any time. You could have fired on them with your new little toys, or you could have just, as you said, jumped right on them. Yet you let them through.” She took the pistol away from her head, casually clicking on the safety and holstering it. “I’m not going to play your games, Ben.”

Through the window, Liao saw the marines tap a blowtorch against the glass. Liao clipped the helmet on, her suit swelling as air filled it. A high pitched whine filled the airlock as the marines began to cut through the airlock door.

“Ben,” Liao said, “I’m leaving now.”

“If you say so,” said the drone, its voice muffled by her helmet.

Her radio hissed, and through the heavy static came a voice she recognised.

“Commander Liao, this is Lieutenant Medola of the Broadsword
Archangel
. Stand by for extraction. Get away from the outside door. The decompression is going to be nasty.”

The inside door silently slid shut, cutting her off from the drones and preventing the whole ship from decompressing. With a roar and a woosh of air, the hatchway covering the exit to the hangar bay blew out, silently flying across the room and striking the opposite wall. Liao was pulled off her feet by the force of the air vacating the small airlock, but strong arms grabbed her, preventing her from flying out into empty space.

She and the marines made a clumsy, low gravity run towards the hangar bay, their magnetic boots thunking on the deck as they moved. Together they bundled themselves into the ship. The Broadsword lurched as its pilot wheeled her around and tore out of the hangar bay, the ramp closing as it cleared the mouth of the launch area and flew out into the void, banking towards the
Beijing
.

The ship’s cargo hold repressurised and the marines, one by one, pulled off their helmets. Liao’s eyes met Cheung’s, her spacesuit still bloodied, and she nodded appreciatively.

“Thanks for coming back for me.”

“Nobody gets left behind, Commander,” Cheung said, smiling as she crouched in front of her, “not even officers.”

Liao managed to return the smile. “You’re going to have to stow that attitude now you have your commission, you know.”

“It’s not possible to change my mind now, is it?”

“Considering the effort I went through to give it to you, no. Sorry.”

Cheung laughed and stood. “Okay, let me go check on the Broadsword crew. I’ll have a report for you in ten.”

Liao nodded, watching Cheung depart. The rest of the marines chatted amongst themselves and otherwise ignored her, which suited her fine. She digested what she’d seen, turning the scene over and over in her head and trying to commit as many details as possible to memory. She knew that the
Beijing
and the rest of the fleet would want answers, and she needed to provide as many as she could.

A daunting task.

As she sat there, her hands shaking slightly from the fading rush of adrenaline and from the memories, Liao’s helmet once again filled with Ben’s voice.

“Goodbye, Commander,” he said. “I’ll see you again soon.”

Act III

Chapter IX

“Bayonets and Brave Soldiers”

*****

Outside Saara’s Quarters

Cerberus Station

Sol System

Two days later

Ben had let them go.

Liao had always been independent and had treasured her ability to do things for herself. It irked her, on some level, to know that, despite everything that had happened on that ruined ship, it had all come down to Ben’s generosity, Ben’s willingness to let her live for reasons that she really did not want to spend too much time thinking about. Yet as the days passed and the fleet readied themselves for their next move, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that they, despite their allies and considerable advantage in terms of numbers, were in well over their depth.

The images of Qadan, and of her own face, haunted her. That was another image she didn’t want to dwell on.

With Vong confirmed dead, the command of the
Beijing
had fallen to Kamal. However, Liao had petitioned Fleet Command to reinstate her for a period of two months, until this issue had been resolved and her leave was technically over.

To her palpable relief, they had approved the motion, a decision made significantly easier by Kamal’s unsolicited endorsement. She owed that man one hell of a Christmas present.

They had a lot to discuss in today’s briefing, but first, Liao had an obligation to her friend. She pressed on the door chime of Saara’s quarters.

[“Enter.”]

Liao did so, turning the metal handle on the hatchway and pushing open the door. “Saara?”

She was crouched over a laptop with extra large keys Liao had made especially for her. Liao stepped through the door, closing it behind her. “We were having a briefing today,” she said. “I was hoping you could attend.”

Saara’s head appeared over the laptop, and Liao could see the profound sadness on her face. The sadness she had earlier had returned. [“Captain, I am sorry. I cannot attend the briefing.”]

Frowning, Liao moved closer. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “You wanted to be a part of these things, and I’m specifically asking you…”

[“Nalu has offered me a position aboard her vessel.”]

Liao stared for a moment. “I’m sorry?”

Saara turned the laptop around so she could see. On the LCD screen was a copy of the station’s email client. Open was a transcription of a message they had received.

“It says here that the Telvan have located your mother, alive…” she looked up. “In a psychiatric hospital.”

[“That is an imprecise translation, but I understand what they mean. They refer to retreats for those with the
khala
worm, those with broken minds.”]

Liao sat opposite her, folding her hands in front of her. “The khala worm?”

[“A sickness,”] Saara explained, [“that took my parents. It affects the mind. A tiny parasite, literally a worm, that bores its way into the brains of Toralii, secreting a chemical that suppresses the survival instinct. Those who suffer feel not the desire to eat, sleep… to
not
do things like stride off cliffs or, as my father did, open airlocks aboard transport vessels and decompress the ship for reasons that will never be understood but were not malicious. The khala worm was reported lost with all hands, but apparently those reports were in error.”]

“I’m sorry,” was all Liao could say. “But she’s alive, right?”

Saara’s gaze returned to the screen. [“Biologically speaking, yes, but with an infection that has lasted this long, I very much doubt she is herself anymore.”]

“What can I do to help?”

[“The Telvan have pledged to send an ambassador to discuss the matter of Belthas IV. That ambassador has offered to return me to my people so I may investigate what has transpired with her.”]

Liao’s heart clenched. “You’re… leaving?”

[“I am afraid that I feel compelled to go.”]

Liao stiffened slightly. “I… I do understand,” she said. “I know this must be hard for you, shocking even. But these are tumultuous times for our people. For me, too.”

A shadow passed over Saara’s face, so sudden and swift Liao almost didn’t see her expression change. [“You would deny me this opportunity to be reunited with my mother, long thought dead?”]

“I’m not denying you anything,” Liao said, suddenly defensive. “I’m simply saying that perhaps
right now
is not the best—”

[“You disregard my council when it is inconvenient, but press me to stay when I have urgent personal matters happening elsewhere?”] The Toralii’s voice rose. [“You deny me access to your briefings, then slap me when I ask to leave? Am I your pet-beast now?”]

“Saara, listen—”

With a roar, Saara upended the table and knocked Liao onto her back, the laptop clattering to the ground. Liao landed hard, the wind knocked out of her as the table’s hard edge slammed into her abdomen, pinning her to the metal deck.

[“Perhaps it is
you
, Commander Melissa Liao, collector of titles, WHOM SHOULD LISTEN!”]

Liao couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air to her throat to speak. Instead, she wheezed and scratched at the table, trying to lift it off her body. Saara lifted her foot, pressing it to the table’s lower leg to it down harder.

[“You disregard my words at every turn! Who told you not to trust the construct with the
Beijing
’s computers? It was I! Words imparted from wisdom earned by experience, disregarded by a childish member of a childish species, your infantile selves taking foolish risk after foolish risk! Have you heard not a word I say? You provoke the Toralii Alliance at every turn,
deliberately
, as though ignorant of what they shall do!”] Saara pressed down harder, and Liao felt the metal crushing her body. [“They will burn your worlds, child, they will sear the very flesh from your bones for defying them! They have done so a hundred times over and they will do so again; here I am, giving my time, my words, to you, and you spit in my face!”]

Her vision began to tunnel, the lack of air crushing the life out of her. She scrabbled feebly at the metal, but Saara’s massive foot-paw kept her securely pinned.

[“You and I, right at this moment, we represent the Humans and the Alliance,”] Saara said. [“For while you wear your uniforms and collect your titles as though you think that gives you power over them, at any point they could simply reach out and crush you like an insect.”] Saara leaned over the table, putting her face within a foot of Liao’s. [“Do you feel death’s cold breath on your neck, Commander? The crushing despair that comes from knowing all your strength, all your courage, is insufficient to weather the storm?”]

Her dying body surged with adrenaline and, somehow, she managed enough to gasp out. “Saara… please…”

[“If you continue down this course,”] Saara said, her tone careful and deliberate, [“this moment will not be the last time you beg a Toralii warrior for your life.”]