The Order of Rescue

"I want to know what kind of order you intend to establish."

Lin Yuan did not answer immediately.

The faint creak of a chair back came through the channel as he shifted positions.

"Miss Clyne, what you just experienced in the Rubble Belt will happen repeatedly in future wars. Different places, different people, the same choices. Talk down those who can be persuaded. Stop those who cannot before they get more people killed."

Lacus rested her fingers on the edge of the communications console.

"This is your order?"

"The bottom line of order is that the living come first. Any ideal that leads to more deaths must give way."

"Give way to what?"

"Results."

Lacus fell silent for four seconds. The indicator light on the console blinked beside her fingers.

"Mr. Lin Yuan, my father's peace proposal was rejected eleven times. He never gave up, not once. Do you think he was wrong?"

"He was not wrong. His judgment was correct, but his methods were insufficient."

"What method would be enough?"

"Make the people who reject his proposal pay a price."

The corner of Lacus's mouth tightened.

"What do you mean by a price?"

"Political costs. Economic costs. Military costs, when necessary. Your father's proposal was rejected eleven times not because the proposal itself was bad, but because those who rejected it paid no price at all. They pressed a veto button, went home for dinner, and sat in their council seats again the next day. The civilians who died in the war bore every consequence in their place."

Lacus lifted her hand from the console and folded her arms over her chest.

"You're teaching me politics."

"I'm answering your question. You asked what order looked like. Order means that those who make decisions must bear the consequences of those decisions. Whether they are a chairman or a songstress."

"Including yourself?"

"You asked that question already."

There was a sharper edge in Lacus's voice, one she might not even have noticed herself.

"I'm asking again. Including yourself?"

"Including me."

The channel was quiet for two seconds.

Lacus lowered her hands, her fingertips brushing the casing of the standalone terminal on the communications console.

"Then fine. I'll accept your answer for now. But I reserve the right to question it in the future."

"Any time."

The communication cut off.

Chen Linhai stood behind the CIC. After Lacus closed the channel, he walked over.

"Miss Clyne, the medical bay has already arranged triage for the wounded. The three children's vital signs are still recovering. One of the four severely injured needs surgery."

"What about the person who was restrained?"

"A separate cabin. The sedative is still in effect."

Lacus turned around.

"May I go see him?"

Chen Linhai hesitated for a second.

"The Director did not say you couldn't. But the medics recommend waiting until he wakes up before making contact."

"I won't go inside. I'll just take a look from outside."

She walked to the observation window of the separate cabin.

Inside, the middle-aged man lay on a secured bed, his wrists fastened with soft restraints. Even under the sedative, his expression remained tightly twisted. His hair was tangled into clumps, black grime was embedded beneath his fingernails, and part of his collar had been torn open.

Lacus stood before the observation window for thirty seconds.

In the corridor behind her came the footsteps of maintenance soldiers carrying oxygen cylinders.

She typed a line into her communications terminal and sent it to Sheng Lan.

The message read: Please look into this man's identity. He said no one had asked his name in fourteen days. I want to know his name.

Sheng Lan's reply arrived four minutes later: Received. Ye Qingluan has been assigned to cross-reference the PLANT civilian identity database.

An hour later, the survivors' preliminary medical evaluations were complete.

Chen Linhai sent the summary report back to the 811 Institute through an encrypted channel.

Sheng Lan added a note at the end of the report: All seventeen survived. Three children, four severely injured but out of danger. One person with an abnormal mental condition has been isolated. Rescue completed within the six-hour window. Han Zheng's Black Iron right knee joint is beyond repair and must be returned to the factory for replacement.

After reading the report, Lin Yuan did not close the terminal.

"Sheng Lan, have the survivors' identities been verified?"

"Ye Qingluan is working on it. The preliminary results show that twelve of the seventeen are permanent residents of the Julius 7 civilian residential district, three are transport ship crew members, and two are maintenance technicians from the colony satellite."

"What about the hijacker?"

Sheng Lan turned a page on the terminal.

"Ye Qingluan's cross-reference results just came back. His name is Adrian Messer. A middle school teacher from PLANT's second satellite. His wife and two daughters were confirmed dead in the Julius 7 Incident."

Lin Yuan's fingers paused on the desk for three seconds.

"A middle school teacher. Fourteen days ago, he was still teaching children how to read."

"Yes."

"He spent two weeks in a pile of rubble, surrounded by children the same age as his daughters. It was already not easy for him not to lose his mind."

Sheng Lan closed Messer's file.

"Director, Lacus asked for his name."

"Why did she want his name?"

"She didn't say. But she left me a message: He said no one had asked his name in fourteen days."

Lin Yuan leaned back in his chair.

"A sixteen-year-old girl, after being hijacked and forcibly rescued, does not first condemn her hijacker, but instead looks up his name."

Sheng Lan offered no comment.

"Director, the original rescue footage has been transmitted back from Xuanwu Three. Zhao Wendi is asking whether it should be edited and released."

"Do it. Focus on three parts: Han Zheng using Black Iron to hold back the rubble and secure the passage, Lacus broadcasting to calm the survivors, and the process of bringing them out."

"What about the hijacking?"

"Cut it. That man does not need the whole world to see him at his worst."

Sheng Lan wrote down two lines in her memo.

"Director, if we cut the hijacking, the narrative of the entire video becomes East Asia risking entry into the Rubble Belt to rescue Coordinator civilians, with Lacus calming her people."

"You think that isn't enough?"

"It's enough. That narrative is far cleaner than the version that includes the hijacking. The Atlantic Federation's claim that we abducted Coordinators will be directly disproven by the footage, while PLANT's moderates will receive material showing Lacus voluntarily participating in the rescue."

Lin Yuan closed the terminal, rose to his feet, and walked to the tactical display.

The signal marker on the screen had turned gray. Mission complete.

"Sheng Lan."

"I'm here."

"When Han Zheng's Black Iron returns, don't just repair the knee. Approve Xu Yanqiu's modified heat-dissipation microtube proposal and upgrade all three Black Irons. Also, archive Machine Soul—Jiachen's nonstandard recommendations in the Rubble Belt separately, and analyze them alongside the forty-four from the desert battle."

"The Director noticed?"

"Jiachen proposed using Black Iron's chassis as a sealed pile in the Rubble Belt. That was not in Han Zheng's training manual, nor was it in the 811 Institute's standard contingency plans. It was calculated on the spot."

Sheng Lan drew a small circle on her memo.

"What would Zhou Boyuan say if he saw this?"

"He'd say the learning module's adaptive range allowed for that kind of output. Then he'd lie awake half the night."

Sheng Lan closed her memo.

"Any other instructions?"

"Have Zhao Wendi release the edited footage within twenty-four hours."

"Through what channels?"

"Release it simultaneously on PLANT's civilian network and Earth's neutral frequencies. Don't use East Asia's official line. Have Ye Qingluan publish it in the name of a third-party news agency. The vaguer the source, the more naturally it will spread."

Before Sheng Lan could leave through the door, another sound came through the channel.

A request arrived to connect Lacus's encrypted channel.

Lin Yuan pressed the accept key.

"Miss Clyne."

"Mr. Lin Yuan, I have a request."

"Go ahead."

"Once the man named Adrian Messer is mentally stable, I want to speak with him."

"What do you want to say to him?"

"I don't know. But he spent fourteen days in the rubble. His wife and daughters died in Julius 7. All he has left for the outside world is hatred."

Lin Yuan tapped the desk once with a finger.

"You want to bring him back?"

"Not bring him back. Listen to him. He was trapped in the dark for two weeks, and no one asked his name. I can at least do that much."

The channel's background static filled three seconds.

"Fine. Arrange it once he passes the medical evaluation. But a security officer must be present in the cabin."

"Thank you."

Before the communication ended, Lacus added one more sentence.

"Mr. Lin Yuan, when you ordered the hijacking footage deleted just now, were you not calculating the cost either?"

Lin Yuan's hand stopped over the terminal.

"Miss Clyne, you've asked many times today whether I was calculating the cost."

"Because your answer was a little different every time."

"I'll make it consistent next time."

"No need. The differences are what make it real."

The communication closed.