Unfortunately, there was no one on the ship who was better qualified to deal with this unpredictable and delicate situation. If worse came to worst, his first officer was entirely capable of commanding the vessel for a return trip to Earth. She’d not likely make any friends along the way…
And they had yet to settle the question of whether the ship was capable of bringing the crew home alive and whole.
Zhang had done what he could to minimize the potential for loss. He had a bare minimum complement accompanying him. The contact crew included Lieutenant Peng Cong, who was without question the best pilot on board and Zhang’s personal favorite. A short-haul tug did not usually require fancy piloting, but this was not a usual run, and evasive action might prove necessary.
Dr. Mo Mu was a research biologist and medical officer and one of the oldest and most experienced crew members. He might have some insight into the nature of the aliens and if there were an accident… or incident… his skills might save someone’s life. He was also, frankly, expendable; there were several other people on board the ship with advanced medical training. Dr. Gao Xing Xing was an astrophysicist, best in her class at Beijing University, smart as a whip, and very, very fast on the uptake. She was along to study alien technology and science. If first contact failed catastrophically, there’d be little for someone of her skills to study, and she served no function in the operation of the ship. So… also expendable.
Zhang hated planning this in terms of who he could afford to sacrifice. He’d just lost four crew members in the bay depressurization, including two engineers. That had been an unavoidable accident. It still ate at him. Consciously choosing who was dispensable, to put them on this mission, it didn’t sit well. It was especially difficult when he knew that the people he’d chosen for this trip thought that he’d honored them by doing so.
He was too soft. He needed to be more dispassionate.
Then, there was the fifth team member, one the captain wouldn’t mind seeing expended. Second Lieutenant Duan Me wore two hats on the under-crewed Celestial Odyssey. She was a plant biologist, in charge of the ship’s hydroponics, and as such she kept the crew well fed.
She was also the ship’s political officer, the voice, eyes, and ears of the Party. On first meeting, you’d be impressed by her charm and humor, Zhang thought: she was a compact, solidly built woman who liked a good laugh. She also liked digging in the dirt, of which, she complained, there was far too little of in hydroponics.
She was the kind of person you’d want to confide in… unless the conversation turned to politics. With her, it inevitably did. Then she gave old Mao a run for cultural purity.
She had made it entirely clear that while she might be a mere second lieutenant and he was captain, she would be going on this little jaunt. Strictly as an observer, of course, to ensure that Beijing got an accurate report of the behavior of the Americans. No interference, she wouldn’t think of it.
If Zhang could have thought of a way to release her tether and make it look like an accident, he would have been tempted.
Fifteen minutes in flight had them at the planetoid. Zhang had timed the launch so that the landing pad and apparent access port were facing the Celestial Odyssey. He preferred this encounter take place within sight of his ship, not to mention out of sight of the Nixon.
The four Americans took no action until the tug got within about a kilometer of the surface, when two of them unshouldered their weapons. Zhang signaled Peng to bring the tug to a halt. He toggled a common comm frequency, stood up, and held his arms far out from his sides.
“Gentlemen, I am Captain Zhang Ming-Hoa, commander of the Celestial Odyssey. May we have permission to land?”
One of the Americans, Zhang couldn’t tell which one, responded, “I am sorry, sir, but we must regretfully decline your request. We are under strict orders that no one is to land here without the explicit authorization of Admiral Fang-Castro. We have received no such authorization.”
“My apologies for my forwardness, but under the law of space, unless you have filed a claim on this body, we are entitled to land on it just as you have,” Zhang said. He discreetly signaled Peng to start moving the tug in. Slowly. Very slowly.
“Sir, I am not trained in space law. But we are under orders from our commander.” One of the Americans noticed the tug was approaching. He stiffened and nudged his companion. Very quickly, the other two Americans unshouldered their arms.
“Please, sir, stop your approach. Our orders are to take all measures necessary to prevent unauthorized landings.” The American who had first unshouldered his weapon began to raise it to the ready position. Slowly, the other three followed suit. “Sir, we are authorized to use force. Once again, halt. You will not be warned a third time.”
Ta ma de. They were going to push the issue. They must be bluffing. They were almost certainly bluffing. But he wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Zhang signaled Peng and the tug came to a halt.
The American said, “Sir, we have a remote relay point flying in station with the primary. We ask that you contact our commander, Admiral Naomi Fang-Castro, for permission to land. If she agrees, we will stand down here. We our transmitting the link, which is a standard inter-ship channel.”
The link came in and Zhang turned to Duan. “Your advice?”
Duan said, “They’re bluffing.”
“Probably. Almost certainly. But if they aren’t, they’ll kill us.”
Duan’s face was impassive, but she was sweating, Zhang thought. She didn’t want to make the call, because whatever call was made, there’d be criticism in Beijing. On the other hand, if she didn’t make the call, she would be showing an unseemly deference to the captain.
She said, “We should consult with the minister.”
Ah. Nice move, Zhang thought. Consulting with the minister would take hours, which they really didn’t have. “If we consult with the minister, we’d have to go back to the ship, which would appear to be a retreat, which would be undesirable,” Zhang said. “So. I will consult with Fang-Castro.”
“You must insist that we be allowed to land,” Duan said.
“Of course,” Zhang said. He nodded at Peng, who also served as comm officer. Peng picked up the link through the American satellite and called the American ship. The call was answered by the American comm officer, and a moment later, Fang-Castro appeared on the screen.
She spoke in Mandarin: not the best Mandarin, but good for an American: “Captain Zhang. I hope you managed the aerobraking without damage or injury. There was cheering on our bridge when you came through intact.”
Zhang smiled. “I appreciate that, Admiral. Alas, we did not. We have suffered a number of casualties, and substantial damage, which we are still assessing, as I’m sure you know. At the moment, however, we wish to approach the alien planetoid, but we have been met by armed members of your crew, who are refusing us access. As you know, this is a violation of basic space law, and we must insist on access.”
“And you shall have it, Captain Zhang,” Fang-Castro said. “But not immediately. I will be frank with you. Inside the primary, or planetoid, we have found an AI computer which is willing to divulge a substantial amount of information on alien science. We have broadcast a vid of this AI—”
“I have seen this,” Zhang said.
Fang-Castro said, “Captain, your English is far better than my Mandarin. Might we switch to English?”
“If you prefer, of course,” Zhang said. Duan nodded: she’d matriculated at UCLA.