Read Online Lacuna: The Ashes of Humanity by David Adams - Free Book Online
Authors: David Adams
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gear and thousands of booted feet, and the Broadsword squelched as it sank into the grime, the rain drumming off its hull.
The landing ramp dropped, splattering into the earth. A figure, backlit by the ship's internal light, stepped down. Liao recognised James's gait, his shape and then his face. He looked dirty, tired, and his eyes were red and puffy.
"Tell me it's not true," he said, his voice raised to carry over the rain. The tone of his words almost broke her heart.
How could she say it wasn't? She desperately wanted to. She wanted to categorise the Toralii Alliance betrayal as a minor setback, as something that they could recover from. It wasn't the end, just a phase of life that would pass. Something they could overcome together.
The lie was appealing, but Liao had to tell the truth.
"It's true," she said. "Earth is gone."
James moved into the rain with her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "The baby? Liao, where's the baby?"
"We couldn't get to her, James. We couldn't. She was with Williams. We didn't know where he was. We didn't—I couldn't have—"
"Shh," said James, holding her close. "It's okay."
It wasn't okay. It was a lot of things right at that very moment, but it was far from okay. Liao buried her face into his shoulder, glad for the roaring storm all around her, sheltering her emotions. "I'm… I'm so sorry."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault." He said it over and over as the two senior officers stood in the rain, water pouring down around them, the wind whipping at their bodies. "There was nothing you could have done."
The pain was like needles in her limbs. It physically hurt, the guilt, and she blurted out the first things that came to her mind.
"I shouldn't have trusted the Alliance."
"You couldn't have known what they were planning."
"I shouldn't have left our child behind."
"It would have been more dangerous to take her with you."
James was crying. She was crying. They weren't captains of mighty warships facing down danger; they were two parents grieving for the loss of a child, on an alien world, the tattered remnants of their species huddled around their ships for warmth.
"I'm here now," said James, holding her tightly. "Don't worry."
She didn't know how long she stood out there in the rain, but it was long enough to cry all her tears. James took her in from the rain, back under the open gate of the hangar. Civilians watched them while pretending not to look, but she completely ignored them.
"You're going to be okay, yeah?"
Liao nodded, numbly. "Yeah," she managed to say.
It was the first time she had really cried, really grieved, and it was a process that would take time. Her whole life, possibly. It was a sobering thought; to feel this emptiness, this loss, this hole in herself for as long as she lived.
When the Toralii attacked Sydney, she had received a wound. The Australian surgeons treated her well, but despite the best of care, a lingering reminder remained. A long, thin scar on her hip. She would bear it for all of her days.
As she would this scar, this one in her heart.
James held her again. "Good. We have a lot to do." He gestured to the civilians who crowded the hangar bay. "These people are going to need you."
They did. Cheung had made that abundantly clear with her speech. "They don't need me," she said quietly but with a growing strength in her voice. "They need shelter, houses, crops, electricity. They have practical needs, not for soldiers."
James shook his head. "Listen, I don't know what the situation is on the ground. I don't know . But I know this. Things are not going to be as they were. They never will. What we need now is people. Human beings. That's what's going to make the difference in the long run. People. The ability to carry on."
She nodded meekly, having nothing to refute James's point.
He seemed ready to say more then just kissed her forehead. "Come on," he
The landing ramp dropped, splattering into the earth. A figure, backlit by the ship's internal light, stepped down. Liao recognised James's gait, his shape and then his face. He looked dirty, tired, and his eyes were red and puffy.
"Tell me it's not true," he said, his voice raised to carry over the rain. The tone of his words almost broke her heart.
How could she say it wasn't? She desperately wanted to. She wanted to categorise the Toralii Alliance betrayal as a minor setback, as something that they could recover from. It wasn't the end, just a phase of life that would pass. Something they could overcome together.
The lie was appealing, but Liao had to tell the truth.
"It's true," she said. "Earth is gone."
James moved into the rain with her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "The baby? Liao, where's the baby?"
"We couldn't get to her, James. We couldn't. She was with Williams. We didn't know where he was. We didn't—I couldn't have—"
"Shh," said James, holding her close. "It's okay."
It wasn't okay. It was a lot of things right at that very moment, but it was far from okay. Liao buried her face into his shoulder, glad for the roaring storm all around her, sheltering her emotions. "I'm… I'm so sorry."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault." He said it over and over as the two senior officers stood in the rain, water pouring down around them, the wind whipping at their bodies. "There was nothing you could have done."
The pain was like needles in her limbs. It physically hurt, the guilt, and she blurted out the first things that came to her mind.
"I shouldn't have trusted the Alliance."
"You couldn't have known what they were planning."
"I shouldn't have left our child behind."
"It would have been more dangerous to take her with you."
James was crying. She was crying. They weren't captains of mighty warships facing down danger; they were two parents grieving for the loss of a child, on an alien world, the tattered remnants of their species huddled around their ships for warmth.
"I'm here now," said James, holding her tightly. "Don't worry."
She didn't know how long she stood out there in the rain, but it was long enough to cry all her tears. James took her in from the rain, back under the open gate of the hangar. Civilians watched them while pretending not to look, but she completely ignored them.
"You're going to be okay, yeah?"
Liao nodded, numbly. "Yeah," she managed to say.
It was the first time she had really cried, really grieved, and it was a process that would take time. Her whole life, possibly. It was a sobering thought; to feel this emptiness, this loss, this hole in herself for as long as she lived.
When the Toralii attacked Sydney, she had received a wound. The Australian surgeons treated her well, but despite the best of care, a lingering reminder remained. A long, thin scar on her hip. She would bear it for all of her days.
As she would this scar, this one in her heart.
James held her again. "Good. We have a lot to do." He gestured to the civilians who crowded the hangar bay. "These people are going to need you."
They did. Cheung had made that abundantly clear with her speech. "They don't need me," she said quietly but with a growing strength in her voice. "They need shelter, houses, crops, electricity. They have practical needs, not for soldiers."
James shook his head. "Listen, I don't know what the situation is on the ground. I don't know . But I know this. Things are not going to be as they were. They never will. What we need now is people. Human beings. That's what's going to make the difference in the long run. People. The ability to carry on."
She nodded meekly, having nothing to refute James's point.
He seemed ready to say more then just kissed her forehead. "Come on," he
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