He moved one of the shelter’s four chairs next to the bed Qi was on and sat next to her, intending to time her contractions and the intervals between.
Loud beeps came from Fred’s spacesuit and they both startled badly, Fred even leaping to his feet, which of course threw him up into the ceiling. When he had landed and collected himself Qi said, “What was that!”
“It’s probably that unicaster,” Fred remembered. “I brought it with me.” He went to his spacesuit, unzipped the thigh pocket, took out the device. It was heavier than it looked like it should be; the qubit stabilizers were the cause of the extra weight, Fred knew. He turned it on, then took his translation glasses from the spacesuit pocket. He put the glasses on and peered at the screen, which was now filled by a line of Chinese characters. The red scroll read Calling Chan Qi. This is Peng Ling. Calling Chan Qi.
“Whoa!” He handed it over to Qi.
She read it, looked up at Fred, blinking in surprise. “Do you suppose it’s really her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Before this thing was someone claiming to be inside the Great Firewall.”
“Looks like it changed hands.”
“Can they track us here by way of this device?”
“Not instantly. It’s meant to be used for confidential conversations.”
“And no one can overhear us?”
“No. It’s a unicaster, like a phone, and it’s entangled so that if someone tries to listen in the connection will be lost.”
She sighed, pulled the blanket up her chest and caught it under her arms. Fred sat back down in the chair. She hunched over the device and spoke to it in Chinese, sounding peremptory and challenging. On the bottom half of Fred’s glasses he read in red script,
This is Chan Qi. What do you want?
New text appeared after a pause of about six seconds: more Chinese characters on the screen, and now a machine voice speaking in Chinese. Fred saw the line of red sentences overlaid on his vision of Qi’s face, looking sweaty and very intent.
I want your help. We need to work with each other, not against each other.
Qi replied angrily, and the glasses scrolled, Why should I help you? Someone is trying to kill me!
More characters appeared in rapid succession:
It is not me or my people doing that. I need your help. I have just been elected president. We have the fate of China in our hands.
“Wow,” Qi said, glancing up at Fred. “Can it be true?”
He shrugged; he had no idea.
She rolled her eyes, spoke in Chinese.
What about my father? Why was not he elected?
He backed me. The Politburo elected me. He was appointed premier. He will be helping me.
Why should he help you?
We have been working together a long time. I told him I know where you are and I am trying to keep you safe.
Qi spoke angrily. You do not know where I am and the people you sent up here with Ta Shu have been trying to kill me. They are still trying to kill me.
I did not send anyone up with Ta Shu.
The people who joined him said they were from you and they have been chasing us ever since.
They are probably from the military. From Red Spear.
Qi paused to take this in. Then she spoke slowly and emphatically. If that is true, you had better be careful. They will try to kill you too.
We have control of the military. The Central Military Command is backing me.
Qi spoke at more length. I hope that is true. But some people there around you like what Red Spear is doing. They are still doing it. You will not stay president long unless you can control every part of the military and the security services.
This time the delay was longer. Then: I know that. People are helping with that. Someone inside the Great Firewall is broadcasting through all the media here, calling for peaceful negotiations. If you were to ask your people to get off the streets. To go home. That would help too.
Qi shook her head as she read this, spoke sharply. I cannot control the billion.
You can help. You cannot control the billion. I cannot control the military. No one can control these messages from nowhere. No one can control anything. But we can try and if we help each other. If we speak together on this. It might happen we can save many lives.
Qi stared at the screen. Then she hunched over and groaned. Fred’s glasses transcribed this as Ah. When she could speak, she said something brief.
I will do what I can. Let us talk later. I am having a baby now.
Oh I see. Good luck. I will do what I can here. I hope to talk with you again soon.
Tell my father I am okay. Tell him to speak for me. I do not have any way to contact my people anymore.
I can convey to people what you are saying now.
Qi hesitated, groaned again. Ah. Do that then. People. Chan Qi here. Good work so far. Let the new leadership enact the reforms. Stay vigilant. See if the new leadership will represent us. Stay vigilant!
Then she said some last brief thing and handed the device back to Fred.
He ended the transmission, looking through the words Break the red spear.
Then she was groaning again, and Fred bounced off the walls in his attempt to swiftly assemble towels and sheets, also looking under the sink for cups or pots or basins. He saw that it might be possible to disassemble the other bed frame and attach part of it to her bed, where it might serve as something to place her feet against when she started pushing. She cursed that idea when he mentioned it, so he dropped it.
He stood by her during her contractions and held her right hand. She squeezed his hand so hard he had to resist by squeezing back, or else his bones would be broken. She closed her eyes so hard her eyelids went white. She clenched her teeth, she hissed. It was like some extremely intense athletic effort that she could not choose not to make. Like trying to lift five hundred pounds with a leg press. Each time some deeper part of her would eventually realize she couldn’t do it, that it would break her, and only then would her body relent for a while. Then she would get caught up again by another unwilled attempt. Her whole body clenched during these efforts, and watching her Fred became convinced that some resistance for her to push against with her feet would help the effort. So in the interval between contractions he got up and found a tool kit in the closet, then went to the other bed, unscrewed one end of the bedstead, and pulled it out of its sleeving in the horizontal part. He put that bedstead over the middle of her bed, but the bedstead legs were the same width as the frame. This was frustrating, and he slammed the ends of the bedstead against the floor, launching himself a bit each time, until they were bent far enough inward that he could jam them down inside her mattress frame, leaving a bar like a football field’s goalposts there over her bed.
That gave her something, and when the next contraction came she put her feet up on the crossbar of the inserted bedstead without him asking, and grunted as she pushed, but even with his whole weight pressing against it, shoving back against her effort as hard as he could, he couldn’t keep her from kicking the bedstead down into him until he was jammed between it and her bed’s bedstead, and her legs were almost straight. “Shit,” he said as he extricated himself.
“No shit,” she said.