But Bill was not among that group. He had far higher hopes. Those hopes, however, would apparently be realized only years down the road in a later phase of the war. If, he thought, we last that long. “Get it ready to go as quickly as you can,” he instructed, giving the victory to the chief engineer, who beamed.
On the helicopter ride back to Air Force One, Bill felt optimistic. The arsenal ships would give America control of the seas, and the Fighting Falcons would eventually dominate space and the skies beneath it. They would escort a manned weapons platform currently being built in Colorado into high, geosynchronous orbit. The space station bristled with weapons, but those weapons’ principal purpose was defensive. The main utility of the platform was intelligence. Once again, they would be able to see over the horizon, and by seizing space they would deny the Chinese the same vantage.
An aide handed Bill a palmtop computer. Stephie’s grimy face appeared in a V-mail player. Bill inserted an earbud and hit play without taking the time to prepare for the emotional storm to follow.
“I’m alive,” Stephie said simply and without much enthusiasm. “But I guess you know that already. We, ah, we took a lot of casualties,” she said with a sudden quiver in her voice as if the bulwark she’d erected against the trauma shuddered. “I guess you — I’m sure you must have — heard that too.”
Bill’s world was bounded by the tiny five-by-three picture, whose edges he caressed with his thumbs. The camera shook in Stephie’s grasp as her face loomed above and filled most of the screen. Bill could see bright sky and waving tree branches above her head, but she appeared to be in the shade.
“I love you, Dad,” Stephie said straight into the camera, as if she’d come to the point of her V-mail. Bill’s skin tingled, and his head spun as he felt lost and adrift in the powerful current. “I just wish — I really wish — we’d been able to spend more time together, that’s all.” Bill’s eyes dropped closed, and he just listened. She talked about the food, the weather, and their daily routine, but said nothing about the fighting or her comrades. “Well, I know you’re busy. I won’t take up any more of your time. But I just wanted to say, ‘I love you.’ Bye, Dad. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you,” Stephie said before the camera shook and the picture spun as she fumbled with the controls.
The last picture that Bill saw was of a shirtless man in the near distance who stood chest deep in a hole. He wore gloves with which he gripped a long-handled shovel and a paper surgeon’s mask over his nose and mouth. Dirt flew out of the hole from the blade. Black rubber body bags lay beside the hole. The picture faded to black.
Wu and Shen Shen made love twice. The first time was hurried, she gratifying him. The second time was slow, for her, and from her pleasure his desire arose anew.
Afterwards, as always, she ordered room service. Totally naked, giggling on the phone, she said, “All right then, how about the ‘pe-can pie’? What is that?” Another giggle. It didn’t bother Wu. He rose and went to his camouflage trousers, which hung over the back of a chair.
“You’ve gotta great body!” Shen Shen said while still on the phone.
Wu did not reply.
“Yes, with ice cream!” she said, slamming the phone down. “This hotel doesn’t have shit. Can we find another one?”
“This is the only one with electricity,” he noted.
She was already snorting another line of coke when he looked back at her. Some spilled from the end of her small glass tube, and she tried to snort it from her flat stomach just above her pubic hair. When she failed, she lay back, looking at him.
“You?” she said, nodding at the small dusting of white powder.
“No thanks,” he said, fishing the DVD from his trouser pocket.
“Oo! A movie!” Shen Shen said, popping up onto her knees and bouncing.
“It’s old,” Wu said.
“How old?” Shen Shen asked warily. “Like, a year or two?”
“No. Real old. Like, from the 1990s.”
“A-a-aw,” she said, disappointed.
Wu put the DVD in the player and settled in beside Shen Shen, lying on their stomachs with their heads at the foot of the bed. Looking at the main menu, he said that it was in English and asked if she wanted Chinese subtitles, but she said she didn’t. He hit play. She nestled beside him through the rousing but ridiculous opening scene. The hero who saved the day flew a small space fighter plane, which by current technological standards seemed utterly implausible. The actor looked familiar to Shen Shen. “Oh, that’s Bill Baker!” she finally said. “He looks younger.”
The doorbell rang. “Ice cream!” Shen Shen said. She ran to the door wearing nothing.
“Put some clothes on!” Wu admonished.
“No,” she said over her shoulder, padding into the living room. “If they look at me, I’ll have you put their eyes out!”
She opened the door, and he heard her giggles.
When she returned, Wu asked lazily, “Did he look?”
“He saw everything,” she replied. “But don’t be jealous. He was an American.” She settled in for another snort. “Can’t have ice cream without another line,” she said, realizing that Wu was watching her.
“Hurry up,” Wu said, not hiding his annoyance, holding the remote control.
The two snorts were loud but quick. Expert. When she bounded onto the bed, rocking him, melted ice cream sloshed onto her left breast. She made Wu lick it off.
“Now can we watch?” he asked.
Shen Shen’s eyes were bloodshot, and she held the bowl of ice cream to her mouth and shoveled like a hungry peasant with rice. With cream on her chin, she asked, “Do you think she’s pretty?”
“Is who pretty?” Wu replied.
Shen Shen shrugged and put the bowl on the nightstand. “Never mind. Let’s watch,” she responded, settling in beside Wu and kissing his back with freezing cold lips.
He rolled away, laughing. “Who? Do I think who is pretty?”
Shen Shen avoided his gaze. She was caught, Wu realized. She was high and had misspoken.
“The American president’s daughter, of course!” she said aggressively, covering.
Wu scrutinized Shen Shen’s face. She stared at the paused picture on the television, but her eyes darted hyperactively about the frozen frame. “What makes you ask about her?”
Shen Shen sighed. “Because you’re thinking about her. I know.”
Wu expelled air, derisively, in a response not yet fully formed in words. “What in the hell makes you say that?”
She sat up abruptly. Her exaggerated gestures were coke-induced, Wu knew. But her reaction now was more than just that. Frustration, perhaps. Misplaced jealousy, maybe. “It’s obvious!” she blurted out.
“Based on what?” Wu pressed.
She slapped her tight thighs in exasperation. “Going to her school and spending half an hour there, even though it was just a pile of rubble!” Shen Shen wasn’t a very good actress. She was angry. “And that request you put in to Intell to see any changes to her file! Look, I know you went to her house today, okay? I know that’s where you got that disk! I mean, I amGeneral Sheng’s personal secretary, you know!”