CHAPTER TEN
“She’s not going to make us wait.”
Third Admiral Than Qiang glanced at his chief of staff, Su Zhihao. The younger man’s long goatee showed strands of gray, at odds with his fit physique and the relatively light rack of medals on his dress uniform.
And speaking of medals…
Than rolled his left shoulder to move a fastener caught on his undershirt and tugged at the back of his jacket. The weight of so many awards tended to sag after too long. The two men stood alone in the control room overlooking a shuttle bay open to vacuum. Shanhaiguan, a fortress world on the edge of League space, hung in the distance.
Than didn’t like to wear his entire dress uniform unless it was necessary, but when the future president of the Terran League wanted ceremony…the whole panoply became necessary.
“No, she won’t keep us waiting,” he said, and leaned forward to look down at the assemblage of politicians, news crews, and a full brass band. The band was flanked by ensigns holding red banners bearing the name of Fourth Admiral Xing in gold thread. “One does not keep inner Accord reps in suspense. Doesn’t matter what you’ve done.”
“Member Liu’s put a good deal of effort into this little…announcement,” Su said.
“The feeds need good news,” Than replied. “The fight in Beta Cygni’s a holding action and won’t get any better. A victory…a new ‘hero.’” He shrugged ever so slightly. “The people will embrace it.”
“And vote for Liu’s Eternal Forward faction over the moderates.” Su fiddled with the tip of his goatee.
“My, my. You think the Accord would cater to such a low common denominator?” Than rubbed a growing headache from his temple and looked at his reflection off the glass. His crow’s feet were getting longer, he noted.
“What’s the butcher’s bill from Xing’s raid on Inverness? Eight hundred thousand?” the chief of staff asked.
“Less, from the K-strikes.” Than leaned forward as the shuttle appeared outside the shuttle bay. Test notes from the band carried into the control room. “But she did it on a shoestring and without the loss of a single League spacer. You have to admit, she’s got gall. Talent.”
“Sure she does,” Su said sourly. “You know that whole ‘Operation Han Xin’ of hers was just a stunt to get herself back in the limelight. The post she was in was a bit too quiet for someone like her.”
“As I said, the newsfeeds need good news. She knows that.” Than’s tone was more serene than Su’s. “I happen to agree with you that she came up with the entire idea primarily as a way to enhance her own career, but that doesn’t make it pointless. Certainly not from a political perspective. She knows the game.”
“She barely scratched a nothing colony that doesn’t matter to the Heart Worlders.” Su spat on the deck.
“Not ‘barely.’” Than scratched his jawline. “She destroyed the orbital refineries—which actually had at least some genuine military value—and wrecked every power plant, dam, and critical infrastructure target on the planet. And the public doesn’t need to be told it was a ‘nothing colony.’ In fact, I’m certain it won’t be.”
“I’ll grant the refineries had some military value, Sir. But enough to justify risking a carrier strike group to take them out?”
“It’s not just Scotia, and it’s not just the physical destruction,” Than said. “The Feds are going to have to worry that we’ll hit additional lightly defended systems in the region, and that may suck some of their reinforcements away from Beta Cygni.”
“And that’s a good thing, Sir?”
“It is as far as anyone else—including her—knows,” Than replied just a bit repressively. “And the fact that most of the colonists survived actually creates a bigger drain on their resources, because it means they have to mount a humanitarian response. Same theory as using a smaller landmine in ground combat. Kill a soldier with a big explosion, and that’s the end of him. But blow off his foot, then two or three men will go out of the fight with him to get him back to a field hospital. He won’t come back to the battle any more than he would have if you’d killed him, but this way he’ll be a drain on their logistics. They’ll have to treat him, move him back to safety, rehabilitate him.…Then he’ll limp around as a civilian once he’s discharged, casting a pall over the entire war effort.”
“There’s a reason Stalin sent his battle wounded to the gulags,” Su said. “Old lesson, if you’re not up on your historical tyrants.”
“I know of him,” Than said. “But the feeds will play up Xing’s mercy in letting the Fed civilians live, when what she did was actually the cruelest thing possible.”
“I don’t follow,” Su said.
“It’s the dead of winter for the inhabited hemisphere on Inverness.” Than clasped his hands behind his back, his expression bleak. “She’s doomed them to a slow, cold death. The Federation will—probably—scramble to help, and they’ll show up to a world that tore itself apart trying to survive. Kinder to K-Strike the entire place. Put them out of their misery in one go.”
“Mercy killings? That doesn’t sound like you, Sir. It’s been almost twenty years since you won the Battle of Callao, but you’ve never led a raid on the Feds’ civilians.”
“The butcher’s bill gets higher every day. Maybe I’ve been staring so long at the number I’ve started to become cynical. But bombing cities isn’t much of a challenge,” Than said. “Smashing the orbital installations was all Xing had to do to get her victory and her pat on the back from the Accord. What she did was cruelty for the sake of cruelty. I’ll stay in the ship-to-ship fight…if the Accord will ever let me back to the front.”
“Maybe Eternal Forward has a new darling,” Su said. “They can make Xing the face of the war effort and we can get back to a proper fleet command.” Than glanced at him, and he shrugged. “What, Sir? She’s a good deal easier on the eyes than you are. No offense.”
“That’s a low bar to clear.” Than sighed as the shuttle’s forward ramp lowered and Fourth Admiral Xing came down it into the blare of horns and the opening bars of the League anthem.
He had to admit Su had a point about looks, he thought. Xing was tall, with bold eyebrows, dark eyes, raven’s-wing hair done in a braid around her head, and a pistol hung low on one hip, like a gunfighter of legend. A troop of armored Marines followed her as she marched down to Liu and gave him a crisp salute.
“She’s playing the part already,” Su said. He shook his head as Xing and Liu shook hands. They were careful to do it slowly while the camera drones circled around them, recording the moment from several angles.
Than glanced at the clock and grimaced. It was time.
“She’s no fool, Zhihao,” he said, turning toward the door. “We can’t forget that.”
“Will the Accord give her the Combination?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Than reached for the door switch. “The elections are later this year. Beta Cygni is still holding—barely—and the Accord’s going to have to talk to the voters about something. It’s turning into a perfect storm for her and Liu, and they’re not ones to waste the opportunity. Come on. We can be late for Xing’s reception…but not too late.”
* * *
“And then the Fed commander turned tail without firing a shot!”
Xing’s laugh filled the small compartment and Than pretended to laugh with the others. He’d heard the other admiral recount the “fight” over Inverness several times. She’d made minor changes to her narrative each time she regaled a different Accord member, testing parts for better reactions.
Liu laughed just as hard with each punch line. His small clique of Accord functionaries remained silent just behind him.
Liu, a dapper man of mixed heritage with a well-manicured coif of hair, clapped his hands twice, signaling the end of the reception. Military officers and politicians set down drinks and plates of finger food and meandered toward the exit.
“Not you, Than,” Liu said. “We have something to discuss with our guest of honor.”
Than nodded, keeping his face expressionless even as bile rose in his throat, and glanced at Su.
“Have the Cai Shen prep for departure, Zhihao. Use my codes to get the shipboard supplies topped off.”
“Yes, Sir.” Su gave Liu a polite smile as he hurried out.
One of Liu’s hangers-on removed a silver case from inside her jacket and twisted the top. A low, teeth-grating whine filled the room.
“Forgive the pitch.” Liu touched an ear. “I had the room scanned for bugs before we arrived, but we can’t be too careful.”
“What’s there to discuss that warrants so much secrecy?” Xing moved a strand of sable hair from her face.
“The Accord is very pleased with your track record,” Liu told her. “Successful commands from corvettes up to battleships. Victorious in every engagement with the Feds. And no family attachments to anyone in Capitol Dome.”
“My parents are factory workers.” Xing shrugged. “Sometimes the apple falls from the tree and just keeps rolling.”
“The Accord has authorized a new assignment for you,” Liu said. “One that we expect you to do great things with.”
“But can I get to Beta Cygni in time to turn the tide?” she asked, eyes flashing.
“Not the Liberation Fleet, or even Vanguard Command,” Liu said.
“It isn’t ready, Minister,” Than said. “There have been construction setbacks, and we haven’t even—”
“Thank you, Third Admiral,” Liu said. “But it’s been decided.”
“You’re not going to pull me off the line to oversee the shipyards around Hwando,” Xing said. “That’s a retirement command. Waste of my talents.”
“She has no idea.” Liu’s eyebrows peaked. “I’m surprised.”
“The project only works if the secrecy holds and—” Than stopped and shook his head. “I don’t want to say it even here.”
“Don’t. The Combination’s rules apply even to us when we’re outside the system,” Liu said, and turned back to the other admiral. “Xing, the League has been engaged in a long-term effort, one hidden away from the public’s knowledge. We simply couldn’t risk the Feds learning about it. We’ve built a force—a fleet not seen since even before the Battle of Callao. One that can bring the Federation to its knees and end the war.”
Xing put her hands on her hips, her expression skeptical.
“And how is it I’ve never heard a single thing about this?”
“Security’s been paramount. Some of the support structure is…drawn from outside the League.” Liu swallowed hard. “And all personnel assigned to it came from planets devastated by the Federation. It will all make sense once you arrive at Bastion.”
Xing’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’m loyal to the Accord,” she said. “I’ve done nothing but deliver you one victory after another, but you’re going to…shunt me aside, aren’t you?”
That was more than a bit of an exaggeration of her track record, Than thought. Not that he was surprised by the protest, especially after the way Liu had burnished her accomplishments for the feeds.
“This is no trick,” he said aloud. “Not some gilded command post on the fringe. This has been in the works for decades, Xing. You’ll be part of the final effort to win the war.”
“Not just part of it,” Liu piped up. “In command.”
“She’s what?” Surprise startled the question out of Than and his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Second Admiral Xing will command the entire effort.” Liu reached to one of his minders and received a small, velvet-lined box. “Officially, she’ll maintain her current rank and be on patrol against Fed incursions.” He popped the box open and removed a rank insignia—a deep red star with an obsidian border. “And she’ll stay there until such time as the new command, which we’ve designated Dragon Fleet, is ready to leave Bastion.”
“I’m honored.” She took the rank badge and ran a thumb over it. “But where is Bastion, exactly?”
“Than will take you there. He’s to be your second-in-command.” Liu smiled and both admirals turned to stare at him. “His experience, your tenacity—a match made in heaven.”
“Sir,” Than’s jaw tightened for a moment, “the Bastion force—Dragon Fleet…We don’t even have crews for the ships. How are we—”
“We have an ample pool of discharged veterans scattered across the League’s worlds,” Liu said. “The next draft lottery will be a bit larger than usual, to provide the recruits you need, and veteran spacers will be put back in uniform to provide more experienced personnel. One last push to win it all. We’ve been seeding the feeds with stories of noble sacrifice and eternal duty for months. Internal projections for disharmony are quite low.”
“Was it going to be your command?” Xing asked Than.
“I’d…assumed,” the older man said.
“There was quite a debate over this within the Accord.” Liu adjusted his cuffs. “It was decided that defeating the Fed navy in battle wouldn’t be enough to force an armistice. Not even a battle as decisive as your victory at Callao managed that, and it’s unlikely another one like it would do so now. The Five Hundred who control their government don’t care about the loss of blood. They care about the loss of treasure.”
“You still mean to spill blood,” Than pointed out.
“Semantics.” Liu shrugged. “You will introduce Second Admiral Xing to the key individuals once you arrive at Bastion. She’s to have the entire Combination. This is clear?”
“Clear…Sir,” Than said.
“Then I’ll return to Capitol Dome and arrange for the necessary manning. We expect the Dragon Fleet to be at full readiness in eight months.”
“Or less,” Xing said. “I’m sure I can find some lost efficiencies once I take full command.”
“Or less,” Liu acknowledged. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gave Than a pat on the shoulder and left.
“I’m honored.” Xing gave the older officer a crocodile’s smile. “I’ll transfer my flag to Cai Shen and Chen Qingzhi can accompany your carriers with my squadron. How long to depart? Twelve hours?”
“If I may, Ma’am, your squadron’s fusion drives got worked pretty hard during the raid on Scotia. Let the Shanhaiguan yards make sure of their tolerances before we ship out. It’ll take another…eighteen hours. At most.”
“Why dawdle? Just transfer the yard workers to Chen Qingzhi and they can make the repairs underway.”
“Because any personnel below the rank of commander that set foot in Bastion are never allowed to leave. At least until Dragon Fleet is ready. If we take the trained crews from Shanhaiguan and they don’t return, it will raise a number of questions we don’t want asked…or answered.”
“That serious.” Xing nibbled the inside of her bottom lip for a moment. “A few more hours, then.”
“Let’s assume we’re being watched by the Feds,” Than said. “Act as normally as possible. It keeps them from snooping around.”
“The Federation should be looking for me after what I did to Inverness. But a bit of time out of the limelight will do well. Let my name circulate through the Heart Worlds. They’ll know me by the time Dragon and I are ready. This fleet is truly as formidable as Liu suggested?”
“Ma’am, you have no idea.”
* * *
Than stepped out of the elevator onto the 195th floor of the Todaeima Arcology.
He glanced up at the ceiling, covered by a holo filter that was meant to emulate blue skies, pleasant weather, and just at the right illumination to match the time of day. He could barely tell that he lived twenty levels down from the penthouse and beneath a dome nestled into an ancient impact crater on Shanhaiguan’s outer moon.
Until one of the panels washed out with static before snapping back into normal function, that was.
He frowned up at it and made a mental note to comm the arcology’s manager in person as the elevator door closed behind him. A diplomatic ass kicking about poor maintenance by a third admiral tended to get results. He should have done that sooner—would have done it sooner, if he’d realized it needed doing. But his visits to his family had been far too rare over the last couple of years. That was what happened when the Accord assigned an officer to a top secret project in a star system weeks of travel from everyone he loved, although he was far luckier than most personnel assigned to Astra. At least he did get to come home…occasionally.
He shook his head at the thought, then he checked his uniform—changed to less spectacular but far more comfortable tan shipboard utilities—and pressed his palm to a reader.
The opening door caught for a split second before it retracted all the way into the frame.
“Dad?” The question came from inside, along with the smell of fresh cooking.
“Better be me,” Than said as he hung his cap on a hook. He toed off his boots and tightened a Velcro strap around each ankle. A boy in his early teens slid around a corner on his socks, and Than gave him a hug.
“Oof! I swear, Idrak, you’ve gotten taller since I saw you a few days ago,” the third admiral said.
“Qiang? Set the table!” his wife called from the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you volunteer for that?” Than ruffled Idrak’s hair as the teen pulled away.
“Studying for exams.”
The boy turned to leave, but Than grabbed him by the elbow as he spotted the green and red armband around his bicep. The look in his eyes was not one of approval.
“What?” Idrak said. “The Forward Party came to my school. I liked the presentation.”
“What did I tell you—?” Than began, then stopped. “Let’s just eat first,” he said, and let the boy go as he stepped into the dining room, where an elderly man with an eyepatch sat reading a data slate.
“Uncle Rao.” Than opened a china closet and pulled out plates and sets of chopsticks. He set a plate in front of the older man. “Uncle Rao?”
“Huh? Than! Didn’t hear you.” Rao removed an earpiece and fiddled with tiny dials. “Thought you were in space again.”
Than kept setting the table until Rao put the earpiece back on. The older man tapped the side of his head, then the table, then gave a thumbs-up.
“Delayed to take on a new strike element,” Than said then. “Where’s your eye?”
“Damned thing itches. My real one works just fine.” Rao tried to get up, struggling with a lame leg and arm. Than touched his shoulder and pushed him back into his seat.
“If you don’t use the prosthetics, the nerve shunts decay,” he said. “Makes it even harder to use the device when you need it.” He set out small dishes and little ceramic stands to keep the chopstick tips off the table.
“And I’ll still have to go all the way down to the center for recalibration every month. You know what a pain that is?” Rao slipped his data slate into a pocket.
“You can’t sit here reading all day.” Than looked over the setting and turned a dish so that the decoration lined up with the others.
“I’m halfway through the Tingle archives,” Rao said. “You’d do well to appreciate the classics.”
“‘Classics.’” Than mimed air quotes.
“Who wants golden rice?” Than’s wife, Cayha, walked in with a steaming bowl of white rice and several small dishes of cooked and cubed meat swimming in sauce. She set the tray on the table and wiped her hands on an apron.
Than gave her a quick kiss. She leaned into it, then looked at him for a moment with a growing frown.
“What?” he asked.
“Nice of you to drop in, but a little more warning might have been nice. I’d have more than just the supplement ready for you.”
“Because I’m not…here,” he said. “I cut out a gap in my schedule and dumped everything on Su. Not that he minds. He enjoys the practice.”
“Oh, so nothing’s wrong?” She looked skeptical. “Because the last time you dropped by unannounced you were about to leave to spend nine months, fighting the Feds in the Apricum Sector.”
Than felt Rao watching him.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, and gave her a thin smile. “Just decided to skip class a little before I head back out to Training Command.”
Cayha’s narrowed eyes told him she didn’t buy it. But—
“You need to have a talk with your son,” she said, then looked over her shoulder. “Boy! Kristina! Come eat.”
“My sister’s here?” Than sat at the head of the table, his mouth watering at the smell.
“Transit barracks were full again…according to her,” his wife said, moving to the foot of the table.
Idrak sat down next to Rao and rubbed his palms together.
“Nutritionally fortified rice product, vat-grown protein cubes, and curry sauce from powder,” he said. “Again. And it’s still yummy.”
“Spend a couple of months in the trenches—” Rao began.
“—and you’ll never taste anything as delicious as golden rice,” Than finished. “How is it all we have is the standard supplement? What happened to our ration coupons for the admiralty market?”
“Mom…she sort of—” Idrak took a bite, then tugged off the armband.
“She traded them to some Forward flunky to get your boy into an indoctrination center,” someone else said, and Than raised an eyebrow as a woman with long, messy brunette hair sat opposite Idrak. She was in her late thirties, Caucasian, and wore a threadbare sweatsuit.
“Kristina.” Than handed her a plate, which she accepted with a hand clasped beneath her chin and a slight bow of her head. “Do you want to explain further, or should Idrak?”
“Snitch,” the boy said to his aunt, then turned back to his father. “It’s the spring season work camps, Father. I get to work for the people of Shanhaiguan and meet a lot of other kids my age—”
“Girls,” Kristina interjected.
“Will you stop?” Idrak said. “It’s great networking,” he went on, “and I can get in with the Party before the next round of elections, and then—”
“What have I told you about the Eternals? Or any party?” Than set a plate aside for his wife and sat down. He steepled his fingers in front of his chin and stared at Idrak.
“That party affiliation is not meant for anyone in the military,” Idrak replied. “That officers dabbling too much in politics is what almost lost us the war before the Battle of Callao.”
“So why are you so interested in a work camp? Your grades are high enough to get into the Academy on Freehold.”
“You mean my family name’s good enough,” Idrak mumbled.
“He’s being modest,” Rao said. “He’s top two percent of his class. I tutor him in the evenings.”
“So your grades are high enough,” Than said. “Names and Party won’t get you into Freehold.”
“Yes, they will,” Kristina said. “Last two classes taken in were all related to Forward members, or to someone with flag rank. Would’ve been quite a scandal, if the feeds had been willing to carry it.”
“Two years? How come I never heard of this?”
“What? You didn’t get my messages?” Kristina raised an eyebrow. “I’m shocked. Shocked, I tell you.” She shook her head, but her expression was serious. “The Party’s grabbing more power, Qiang, and the more power they grab, the worse they get.”
“I’ll look into this,” Than said. “The Admiralty isn’t as…compromised.”
“The Party’s one strong election away from an outright majority in the Accord,” Kristina said. “They get that, and we’ll be as bad as the Fed Heart Worlds in less than a generation.”
“Always so much fun to have you over, Auntie,” Idrak said.
“So that’s why they put her in—” Than cut himself off in midsentence and refocused on his son. “But back to you, Idrak. Those public-service camps look like fun and exercise in the commercials, but they’re indoctrination centers. You show up, and they’ll be all over you like—”
He picked up his chopsticks and poked them into his white rice.
“I can think for myself.” Idrak raised his arms. “I mean, you’re around Party types all the time, and you’re still independent. Just because I go to the camp doesn’t mean I’ll come out a zombie that hates his family and only cares about the League’s unassailable right to forward progress and—”
“Just stop,” Kristina said. “You’re going for the girls.”
“Just because it’s coed doesn’t mean—”
“No,” Than said. “I won’t allow it. You’re smart, hardworking, and talented. You don’t need the Party to get into Freehold. If you do go and you don’t leave singing the Eternal Forward anthem and with a membership card in your pocket, they’ll…take offense. Young men like you can get into trouble in that sort of environment, especially with a little help. I wouldn’t put it past the Party to see you find some trouble that they’ll hang over my head. Or yours, once it’s time to send off your application.”
“This isn’t fair!” Idrak shot to his feet.
“No, it’s not,” Than agreed. “It won’t ever be fair, son. That’s war, and that’s life. Don’t forget what happened to everyone who was part of New Democracy after we lost at New Derba. The military purged them from public life, and Eternal Progress will head down that same road if they’re not careful. I’m saying ‘no’ to protect you. That’s my only reason.”
Idrak rushed out of the room. Than half-rose from his chair, then settled back down.
“You handled that better than Dad ever did,” Kristina said. “And a damned good thing, too. Eternal knows what happened to New Democracy. I doubt they’ll make the same mistake.”
“He’ll get over it,” Rao said. “If it’s a girl, they’re like buses. You miss one and there’ll be another a few minutes later.”
“This is why he has four ex-wives.” Kristina jerked a thumb at him without looking away from Than. “We’ll soften the landing for Idrak, Qiang.”
“Being in command is easier,” Than said. “I just tell my officers and people to do something, and it happens. Try the same thing with my son, and he’ll resent it until he’s old enough to understand for himself.” He shook his head and changed the subject. “And why are you here, exactly, Kristina?”
“I got fired from my feed,” she said. “Posted too many stories about Forward’s corruption. The feeds stopped pushing my work to subscribers, and then my identity docs kept getting deleted from the system. I’m not the first reporter to get deplatformed. Won’t be the last.”
“What kind of corruption?”
“The League’s been in a total war economy for decades. Most workers are taxed at nearly ninety percent of their income level, but the amount of income the central government takes in and its expenditures don’t add up,” she said.
“Deficit spending isn’t exactly something new for a government,” Than pointed out.
“There are deficits and then there are deficits, Qiang. The last war-bond drive was supposed to fund six new carriers…but where are they? No keels have been laid at satellite yards like Shanhaiguan, Keralta, or Xiaopei, and damn few at Dongguan and Urumchi. I did some digging and found one hell of a black budget.”
Than took a bite of his dinner, hesitant to give anything away, even to his sister.
“It makes sense not to let the Federation know our shipbuilding timelines,” he said. “If they know what we’re spending, they can overmatch us.”
“The Feds’ economy is nearly three times the size of ours,” she replied. “They could outbuild us anytime, if they really wanted to, but the Five Hundred would rather bleed their sheep with taxes than go to full-on war production and cut into their profit margins. You know they still have a luxury market? The League’s been getting by on the standard ration for so long we—Did you know there are kids who have never eaten chocolate? Never worn clothes other than the recycled fabric that comes out of the printers? I’ve read the draft bills to lower the conscription age to—”
“We’re a bit better off than most,” Than said.
“There’s a black hole in the League’s treasury, and meanwhile Accord members are living in their own arcologies and don’t have to worry about rationing, or knockoff nerve shunts, or—”
“Is the Accord so big that this ‘black hole’ in the budget can cover those expenses?”
“No, it’s much deeper than that,” she said. “We’re talking about enough to finance fiefdoms out past the Fringe. Pirates and barbarians still take League dollars. Maybe the higher-ups think the Beta Cygni front will collapse and those that can are prepping an exit strategy.”
“Careful.” Than leveled his chopsticks at her. “That’s dangerously close to treason.”
“If all the money that’s vanished had actually gone to new ships, we might not be hanging on by our fingertips in Beta Cygni.”
“Who told you it’s that bad?”
“Is the news good? Because my former coworkers who still play the game say the next big story is this Admiral Xing Xuefeng and her ‘humanitarian’ victory on some Fed trash world. Where’s the big win in Beta Cygni? When do we retake Tantor III?”
“Beta Cygni is holding.” Than went back to his meal. “The Feds won’t get past the Green Line.”
“Not exactly a winning message, is it? Meanwhile, Party boss Liu’s got a mistress on every region capital world. He’s got an appetite for needy widows.”
“I think I’ll just go and get the dessert,” Cayha said, getting up from the table, and Than shook his head at her with a smile before he looked back at his sister.
“Now that’s just yellow journalism,” he said. “You published that story, didn’t you? That’s why you had your license yanked.”
“I probably should’ve led with the black budget, but my editor thought it was too much of a conspiracy theory. So I went with the tabloid piece first, and—” Kristina motioned to him and the apartment. “I wonder if that snake tipped off the Powers That Be about my other byline, because he threw me out in the cold without much of a fight. Maybe if I looked more like the war hero Admiral Than, Forward would know who they were messing with. God knows I’m too much of a gwáipò for anyone to figure out we’re related! Probably should’ve taken Than as my surname after the adoption instead of hyphenating. Wish I’d done that for Mom and Dad, now.”
“Such is life,” Than said, then sniffed at the air just as Kristina covered her nose and mouth. He turned and beamed as Cayha returned to the dining room with a fruit in the crook of one arm. She’d cut a slice out of the spiky skin and a spoon stuck out of its yellow flesh.
“Durian!” Than smiled even more broadly, took the fruit from her, and set it on the table.
“Oh, God, please no.” Kristina waved a hand in front of her covered mouth.
“What? This stuff is the best!” Than pried out a hunk and took a bite. He gave his wife a loving glance, and she stroked the back of his head.
“It smells like someone on a rotten egg diet just farted.” Kristina pushed her plate away.
“If you’d come into the Than family a little earlier, you’d love it, too.” Than kept eating.
“It smells like turpentine and hatred.” His sister wrapped her arms over her face.
“I wish you’d been here to give Idrak that talking to earlier,” Cayha said. She clasped her hands over her waist. “He was much more insistent with me. And I’m not getting those ration coupons back.”
“I can’t.” Kristina gagged and fled.
“What is her problem?” Rao stuck a fork into the fruit and pried out a knob of its stringy, off-yellow flesh. He dipped it into his curry sauce before taking a bite. “It’s almost fresh.”
“I’ll get another ration book delivered,” Than told his wife. “Idrak deserves a decent cake for his birthday. I’ll probably miss it. Again.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“That’s hard to say. This tour will be a bit different. But if things work out, it will be the last one for a long time.”
“You mean you’ll finally retire?” Cayha asked.
“Retire? I’ve only been in uniform for forty years. But we’ll see. We’ll see. I should be home more. For Idrak, and for you.”