Read Online Lacuna: The Ashes of Humanity by David Adams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Adams
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you feel cold, not because I want you to."
She vaguely understood the difference.
"I'm worried about you."
She went to tell him that she would be okay, but the buzzer to her quarters rang.
"I'll get that," said James, but Liao wrapped the wet towel around herself and went along, too.
On the other side of the door, waiting with an eager smile, was a young girl who couldn't be more than ten or eleven. Liao's marines kept her some distance from the door. When she saw them, her eyes went wide.
"O—oh my God," she said with a thick southern American accent, "I didn't mean to interrupt the two of—"
"Don't worry about it," said James, waving the girl through. "Captain Liao's busy, obviously, but can I help you with something?"
In the past, they would have been much more discreet. She would have sent away the visitor, or at the very least had the marines ask what they wanted.
Now she didn't care.
"I… was kind of hoping that Miss Liao would sign my book."
"Book?" asked James, confusion in his tone. "What book?"
" Dancing Amongst the Stars ." The girl held out a thick, tattered paperback. Liao could only see the back cover—a picture of the night sky with what she presumed to be an artist's interpretation of the TFR Beijing floating in the background. "That book about the two of you. My dad gave it to me for Christmas last year, and he's still on Earth, so I wanted to read it again."
Still on Earth . Liao grimaced, unable to tell her the truth. "He let someone your age read that book?"
"Dad said I was mature enough to handle it. He said it was important for me to know about famous people, because he wanted me to go to school and go into space."
It was hard to get information about the Task Force Resolution activities, but James voiced her thoughts before she could.
"That novel is garbage," said James. "It's an unauthorised, shameless fiction. I didn't meet Captain Liao during a spacewalk, I didn't take her to the Eiffel Tower—incidentally, I'm Belgian, not French—and I could barely get halfway through it because of the terrible writing and overblown dialogue. It's shameless capitalisation on a tragedy."
The girl's face fell. Liao felt sorry for her.
"Wait," she said, "it's not real?"
"It's a story," said James. "It's an interesting one, but it's not what really happened."
"Oh."
She went to shut the door, but Liao reached out for it. "Wait." She held out her hand. "May I see the book?"
The girl hesitated and then handed it over. The picture on the front was a woman with long hair and an hourglass figure, wearing what Liao assumed was a People's Republic of China Army Navy uniform vaguely described to a graphic artist without access to the Internet. In the background was a man with a vague resemblance to James and, clearly, a long successful career ahead of him as an underwear model. They were standing on the Eiffel tower, somewhere she'd never been.
It was all so surreal to her. The existence of this novel a year ago, during her court case, had been the worst thing in the world. She hated the fact that her face, her name, was so public that anyone could write stories about her and be protected. She hated being exploited. Seen as a sexual object instead of as the commanding officer of a warship, fighting and suffering to protect mankind.
Now the story meant nothing to her. It was almost childish, and it was odd that such a thing had once bothered her so. Meaningless words on a page had hurt her.
"This book belongs in a museum," she said. James nearly choked beside her.
The girl's smile returned. "Really? You think so?"
"It's a part of our history," she said, as much to James as to her visitor. "And I mean that. It's… well, it's fictional, but so much of what we had is lost now. An entire planet's worth of civilisations, all with their heritage, culture, stories. The destruction of the Great Library of Alexandria was nothing compared to this." She smiled to herself, turning the book over in her
She vaguely understood the difference.
"I'm worried about you."
She went to tell him that she would be okay, but the buzzer to her quarters rang.
"I'll get that," said James, but Liao wrapped the wet towel around herself and went along, too.
On the other side of the door, waiting with an eager smile, was a young girl who couldn't be more than ten or eleven. Liao's marines kept her some distance from the door. When she saw them, her eyes went wide.
"O—oh my God," she said with a thick southern American accent, "I didn't mean to interrupt the two of—"
"Don't worry about it," said James, waving the girl through. "Captain Liao's busy, obviously, but can I help you with something?"
In the past, they would have been much more discreet. She would have sent away the visitor, or at the very least had the marines ask what they wanted.
Now she didn't care.
"I… was kind of hoping that Miss Liao would sign my book."
"Book?" asked James, confusion in his tone. "What book?"
" Dancing Amongst the Stars ." The girl held out a thick, tattered paperback. Liao could only see the back cover—a picture of the night sky with what she presumed to be an artist's interpretation of the TFR Beijing floating in the background. "That book about the two of you. My dad gave it to me for Christmas last year, and he's still on Earth, so I wanted to read it again."
Still on Earth . Liao grimaced, unable to tell her the truth. "He let someone your age read that book?"
"Dad said I was mature enough to handle it. He said it was important for me to know about famous people, because he wanted me to go to school and go into space."
It was hard to get information about the Task Force Resolution activities, but James voiced her thoughts before she could.
"That novel is garbage," said James. "It's an unauthorised, shameless fiction. I didn't meet Captain Liao during a spacewalk, I didn't take her to the Eiffel Tower—incidentally, I'm Belgian, not French—and I could barely get halfway through it because of the terrible writing and overblown dialogue. It's shameless capitalisation on a tragedy."
The girl's face fell. Liao felt sorry for her.
"Wait," she said, "it's not real?"
"It's a story," said James. "It's an interesting one, but it's not what really happened."
"Oh."
She went to shut the door, but Liao reached out for it. "Wait." She held out her hand. "May I see the book?"
The girl hesitated and then handed it over. The picture on the front was a woman with long hair and an hourglass figure, wearing what Liao assumed was a People's Republic of China Army Navy uniform vaguely described to a graphic artist without access to the Internet. In the background was a man with a vague resemblance to James and, clearly, a long successful career ahead of him as an underwear model. They were standing on the Eiffel tower, somewhere she'd never been.
It was all so surreal to her. The existence of this novel a year ago, during her court case, had been the worst thing in the world. She hated the fact that her face, her name, was so public that anyone could write stories about her and be protected. She hated being exploited. Seen as a sexual object instead of as the commanding officer of a warship, fighting and suffering to protect mankind.
Now the story meant nothing to her. It was almost childish, and it was odd that such a thing had once bothered her so. Meaningless words on a page had hurt her.
"This book belongs in a museum," she said. James nearly choked beside her.
The girl's smile returned. "Really? You think so?"
"It's a part of our history," she said, as much to James as to her visitor. "And I mean that. It's… well, it's fictional, but so much of what we had is lost now. An entire planet's worth of civilisations, all with their heritage, culture, stories. The destruction of the Great Library of Alexandria was nothing compared to this." She smiled to herself, turning the book over in her
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