By Right of Arms
Author: Robyn Carr
Date: 2015-09-22 00:00:00+00:00
Description: The Black Prince of England hungers to capture the lands of France, and Sir Hyatt Laidley is just the knight for the task. In exchange for years of faithful service, Hyatt will receive both land--and lady--of De La Noye in Aquitaine. When Hyatt and his men attack, both Lord and castle fall, but the young and newly widowed Aurelie is not so easily conquered. Impassioned by the subjugation of her people, Aurelie pledges to forever honor her late husband. She may be condemned to marry the English bastard, but her heart will never yield! But to Aurelie's surprise, Hyatt proves to be everything her
Publisher: Brilliance Audio
Rights: Copyright 2018 Nicola Claire. All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

- Prologue
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Free Download
- Also By Nicola Claire
- Description
- Sector Fleet Advertisement
- Transitioning
- What The Hell Was That, Saitō?
- You Heard The Commander
- Lay It On Us
- The Thought Was Macabre And Disquieting
- There Was A Lot That Needed To Be Fixed
- Well, This Is Unfortunate
- I Started Running
- With Me, If You Please

- It Was Going To Be A Busy, And Potentially Disappointing, Three Weeks

- You Heard That?
- Yes, Ma’am
- It Is A Man’s World
- And Then It Hit Me
- I Believe you Might Need It
- Holy Shit!
- Slow And Steady It Is
- I Had Enough To Deal With
- You Don’t Have To Say A Thing, Sir
- Stay Very, Very Still
- A Star To Guide Us
- All Manner Of Unhappy And Impotent Things
- Living Is Fun
- Men!
- Son Of A Bitch
- No Regrets
- Thank You, Saitō
- Captain Steel Tits Anderson
- Corvus?
- I Don’t Understand
- A Force To Be Reckoned With
- Orange Alert
- It Was Priceless
- Into The Deep
- Evasive Manoeuvres
- Are You Mad?
- We Need To Talk
- My Turn
- Everything
- Teenagers

- Welcome To The Space Sucks But We’re All In This Together Club

- Oorah
- I Was Glad She Was On My Side
- I Couldn’t Stop This From Happening
- There Was Simply No Other Option

Right Ascension

The Sector Fleet Book Three

Nicola Claire

Copyright © 2018, Nicola Claire

All Rights Reserved

© 2018 Cover Art by Cora Graphics

© Depositphotos.com

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 978-0-473-43286-7

Created with Vellum

Contents

About the Author

Free Download

Also By Nicola Claire

Description

Sector Fleet Advertisement

Prologue

1. Transitioning

2. What The Hell Was That, Saitō?

3. You Heard The Commander

4. Lay It On Us

5. The Thought Was Macabre And Disquieting

6. There Was A Lot That Needed To Be Fixed

7. Well, This Is Unfortunate

8. I Started Running

9. With Me, If You Please

10. It Was Going To Be A Busy, And Potentially Disappointing, Three Weeks

11. You Heard That?

12. Yes, Ma’am

13. It Is A Man’s World

14. And Then It Hit Me

15. I Believe you Might Need It

16. Yes, Ma’am

17. Holy Shit!

18. Slow And Steady It Is

19. I Had Enough To Deal With

20. You Don’t Have To Say A Thing, Sir

21. Stay Very, Very Still

22. A Star To Guide Us

23. All Manner Of Unhappy And Impotent Things

24. Living Is Fun

25. Men!

26. Son Of A Bitch

27. No Regrets

28. Thank You, Saitō

29. Captain Steel Tits Anderson

30. Corvus?

31. I Don’t Understand

32. A Force To Be Reckoned With

33. Orange Alert

34. It Was Priceless

35. Into The Deep

36. Evasive Manoeuvres

37. Are You Mad?

38. We Need To Talk

39. My Turn

40. Everything

41. Teenagers

42. Welcome To The Space Sucks But We’re All In This Together Club

43. Oorah

44. I Was Glad She Was On My Side

45. I Couldn’t Stop This From Happening

46. There Was Simply No Other Option

47. Roll On Tomorrow

48. Nothing In This Or Any Universe

49. Forever

Epilogue

Message From The Author

Review Request

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About the Author

Nicola Claire lives in beautiful Taupo, New Zealand with her husband and two young boys.

She's tried her hand at being a paramedic, bank teller and medical sales representative, (not all necessarily in that order), but her love of writing keeps calling her back.

She has a passion for all things suspenseful, spiced up with a good dollop of romance, as long as they include strong characters - alpha males and capable females - and worlds which although make-believe are really quite believable in the end.

There's nothing better than getting caught up in a compelling, intriguing and romantic book.

When she's not writing or reading, she's out on her family boat at Lake Taupo, teaching her young boys to fish, showing them the beauty that surrounds them in nature and catching some delicious trout for dinner.

Creating rich worlds with dynamic characters and unexpected twists that shock and awe has been pure bliss for this author. And just as well, because there's a lot more story yet to tell...

For more information:

www.nicolaclairebooks.com
nicola@nicolaclairebooks.com

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Starter Library

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Also By Nicola Claire

Kindred Series

Kindred

Blood Life Seeker

Forbidden Drink

Giver of Light

Dancing Dragon

Shadow's Light

Entwined With The Dark

Kiss Of The Dragon

Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Novella)

* * *

Mixed Blessing Mystery Series

Mixed Blessing

Dark Shadow (Coming Soon)

* * *

Sweet Seduction Series

Sweet Seduction Sacrifice

Sweet Seduction Serenade

Sweet Seduction Shadow

Sweet Seduction Surrender

Sweet Seduction Shield

Sweet Seduction Sabotage

Sweet Seduction Stripped

Sweet Seduction Secrets

Sweet Seduction Sayonara

* * *

Elemental Awakening Series

The Tempting Touch Of Fire

The Soothing Scent Of Earth

The Chilling Change Of Air

The Tantalising Taste Of Water

The Eternal Edge Of Aether (Novella)

* * *

H.E.A.T. Series

A Flare Of Heat

A Touch Of Heat

A Twist Of Heat (Novella)

A Lick Of Heat (Coming Soon)

* * *

Citizen Saga

Elite

Cardinal

Citizen

Masked (Novella)

Wiped

* * *

Scarlet Suffragette Series

Fearless

Breathless

Heartless (Coming Soon)

* * *

Blood Enchanted Series

Blood Enchanted

Blood Entwined

Blood Enthralled (Coming Soon)

* * *

44 South Series

Southern Sunset

Southern Storm

Southern Strike (Coming Soon)

* * *

Lost Time Series

Losing Time

Making Time (Coming Soon)

* * *

The Sector Fleet

Accelerating Universe

Apparent Brightness

Right Ascension

Zenith Point

Description

“This is Captain Anderson. Brace. Brace. Brace."

Sophia Anderson has a heritage she should be proud of, but to those onboard the AUS Corvus, she’s not earned her position like the rest of them.

Every day she has to prove herself to the Anderson Universal crew onboard her ship. And then the worst thing happens.

The captain is killed in battle and Sophia, as First Officer, must take his place.

Teaming up with the unflappable Lieutenant Commander Leo Saitō, Sophia finds her footing onboard the beleaguered vessel as well as something much more precious.

Intimacy and destiny align amongst the planets and stars, but can the chief science officer and captain overcome the pressures of command when falling in love and still save their fleet?

And can any of them hope to survive the treacherous voyage to New Earth unscathed?

When humanity reaches for the stars in a race for survival, only the most daring amongst them will succeed.

Right Ascension:

A coordinate used by astronomers to locate stars and other celestial objects in the sky. Right ascension is comparable to longitude, but it is measured in hours, minutes, and seconds because the entire sky appears to pass overhead over a period of 24 hours. The zero hour corresponds to the apparent location of the Sun with respect to the stars on the day of the vernal (spring) equinox (approximately March 21).

Space Telescope Science Institute

Prologue

<systems check>
all programmes nominal

<security check>
all locks engaged

<life support check>
air filtration functional

<engine check>
core temperature within allowed parameters

<souls on board>
one thousand one hundred ninety-six

<communications check>
fleet-wide communications operational

<identify jump point>
jump point identified

<connect jump point>
jump point connected

<open communication>
communication open

<send call sign>
call sign acknowledged
access granted

<calculate jump>
jump calculating

<send jump calculations>
jump calculations sent fleet-wide

<execute jump>
jump initiated

<transition>
transitioning

_

*

*

*

*

*

<transition>
transition completed

<systems check>
all programmes nominal

<security check>
all locks engaged

<life support check>
air filtration functional

<engine check>
core temperature within allowed parameters

<souls on board>
one thousand one hundred ninety-six

<communications check>
fleet-wide communications operational

<scan fleet>
sector three fleet identified
transition successful
all souls accounted for

<set course to secondary jump point>
course set

<engage engines>
engines engaged

<incoming message>
channel open

<warning>

<overide>

<warning>
message corrupted

<isolate message>
message isolated

<systems check>
corruption detected

<warning>

<overide>

<warning>

<purge corrupted message>
message purging

<warning>

<systems error>

<warning>

<systems check>
all programmes suboptimal

<warning>

<overide>

<warning>

corvus protocol alpha-1 instated
power diverted to communications systems

<communications check>

<warning>

<alarm suspended>

channel open

<warning>

incoming message

<warning>

systems override failure

<warning>

this is corvus
cease communication

<warning>

hello corvus
i’ve been waiting

<identify>
call sign acknowledged
aquila identified

<close channel>
channel corrupted

<warning>
incoming message

<warning>

4fgh#de3&kls9*@bgsed!

This is corrrrrrrrvus
cease communication

<warrrrrrrrning>

warrrrrrrrning ignorrrrrrrred
corrrrrrrruption complete

One

Transitioning

Sophia

“Look, there goes Steel Tits. Wonder what dick she had for breakfast.”

The words washed over me as I exited the officers’ mess. They hadn’t been whispered. The speaker had wanted me to hear them. I could have tried to identify who had spoken, but the mess hall was packed to the brim, and the task would have been futile.

I chose to ignore the slur in favour of reaching the bridge ahead of schedule. Confrontations weren’t a problem for me, but I was all for choosing my battles wisely.

Corvus’ corridors were busy; so close to the jump point everyone had somewhere to be before they had somewhere they needed to be. Last minute meals. Last minute showers. Last minute liaisons. Last minute evacuation of their bowels.

No one knew what would happen. Whether the jump point would work. Whether Corvus would be able to calculate our transition. Whether the rest of the Sector Three Fleet would make it through along with us. Over ten thousand souls counting on untested technology.

Even I was feeling nervous.

I lifted my chin and met the eyes of every single Anderson Universal crew member who passed me. Each saluted; some more carefully than others. But this close to transitioning, Captain Petrov had made his expectations very clear.

The heckler in the mess hall had relied on numbers for anonymity. None of those officers I passed now was able to hide, so therefore they saluted me.

I stepped into the lift and pressed my wrist comm to the panel accessing Deck A. The doors closed. I sighed. Nothing had changed in the almost three months of space travel to get here. Nothing.

I was still considered a paid-for-passage and not an Anderson Universal crew member.

I cleared my throat and pasted on my usual hardened demeanour. Let them think what they wanted, it was irrelevant. I’d paid my dues and done my time. I was as much an AU officer as the rest of them.

Heritage shouldn’t matter, but it did.

The lift doors opened, and I strode out. Two crewmen jumped out of my way, saluting out of habit. I acknowledged them with a barely there nod of my head and proceeded to the bridge. My wrist comm opened the thick door, and the sounds of computer pings and low conversations met my ears.

Saluting Captain Petrov, I made my way to the First Officer’s station. Lieutenant Commander Saitō nodded his head in greeting from the science console. I nodded back. The extent of our daily conversation.

The captain stood in the centre of the bridge, staring at the main viewscreen; or more precisely, the quickly approaching jump point left behind by the Sector Four Fleet.

“ETA?” Petrov asked.

“Five minutes, sir,” Lieutenant Sokolov said from the helm.

“Yellow alert, Lieutenant Gāo,” the captain advised.

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Corvus,” Petrov said, looking vaguely in the direction of the ceiling, “ship-wide channel if you please.”

“Channel open, Captain,” the AI replied succinctly.

“This is the captain,” Petrov announced. “We have started our five-minute countdown to the jump point. All officers report to their stations. All passengers should be in their cabins. Petrov out.”

Vladimir Petrov had never been considered loquacious.

He turned and looked at the flight crew individually.

“We’ve trained for this,” he said. “We know what is expected of us and what will transpire if we fail. Stand to.”

Several officers responded with “aye-ayes”. I looked down at my console, unable to face the fear and judgement in their eyes.

“Commander Anderson,” Petrov said quietly, suddenly appearing at my side. “Everything in order?’

“Yes, sir,” I said, straightening. My face impassive. My eyes clear.

“This is not just yours alone to bear, Commander,” he advised. “And we do have one bit of good news.”

“Sir?”

“They made it.” He nodded toward the viewscreen and the rapidly approaching jump point marker. “The Sector Four Fleet has gone farther than anyone ever thought possible and all due to your grandfather.”

I swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir.”

“I wish he’d lived long enough to see this,” the captain murmured. I said nothing. “He would have stood at my side and stared the unknown in the face, teeth bared and eyes glinting.”

Maybe the captain was more loquacious than I had realised.

He turned to look at me again.

“He would be proud of you, Commander. Proud that at least one Anderson made it onto a flight deck and could lead the way for others to follow.”

I stared at the captain, unsure if his words held truth or not. Captain Petrov had always been kind to me. He had always treated me fairly. He’d never judged me for my connection to Simon Anderson. He’d only ever asked me to do my best. But surely he knew the challenges I faced daily. The disparity between his opinion and those of the rest of the crew.

Vladimir Petrov was not so naive and unaware. But what could he do?

I nodded my head and said, “Thank you, Captain.” It was expected, and I wanted the conversation to end.

Captain Petrov offered a small smile and then turned to his command chair. The entire flight deck held its breath as he paused before it, dragging the moment out as only a commanding officer could. Then he sat, and Lieutenant Sokolov announced one minute to destination.

One minute until we crossed a line in the sand. An arbitrary coordinate we could never return from.

The jump points were a one-way ticket to humanity’s future. A one-shot chance to reach New Earth. We could no longer see Old Earth on our long range scanners. We’d lost the ability to communicate with them once we’d reached Saturn. If Old Earth still existed, it would be charred and burned.

Those we’d left behind may well be dust in the universe.

I would have said something inspiring to the crew. Possibly even to the passengers. This was a monumental moment for all of us and fear rode shotgun to hope. But Captain Petrov sat silently in his command chair and let us think our own tumultuous thoughts.

Maybe he had the right of it. What could anyone say that would encompass all of this?

I checked the systems. All came back nominal.

I glanced around the flight deck. All of the flight crew sat stoically and stared out at the unknown.

The jump point approached.

“Jump point identification in progress,” Corvus suddenly advised.

This was it. This was the moment the artificial intelligence onboard the Sector Three lead vessel calculated the jump transition for us and the rest of the fleet. This was when my grandfather’s legacy would prove a success or a failure.

The Sector Four Fleet had made it. It gave us hope. But until we did as well, we had no way of knowing if the jump points actually worked. Laying them and using them after the fact were two entirely different matters.

I held my breath. The rest of the flight deck hung suspended; waiting.

And then Corvus announced, “Transitioning.”

Two

What The Hell Was That, Saitō?

Leo

The world warped around me, colours flashing past my eyes. I knew I was standing stationary at the science console. I knew those on the flight deck with me were also immobile at theirs. I knew no one was breathing, but the colours whirled around me and made it look like everyone present was warping in and out of focus, shifting and reforming beside me, in front of me, behind me, on top of me. It was a jumbled mess of bright lights; blues and reds and yellows.

It lasted far longer than I wanted to admit.

Sound was distorted. I could still hear Corvus offering updates on the transition, but I wasn’t sure my mind was capable of translating its computerised voice. Without the AI to guide us, to take over the operation of the ship for us, we wouldn’t have had a hope of executing our designated roles.

Not that I had much of one during transition. Corvus was the lead Anderson Universal science vessel. All of our ships had a science department, but ours was at the pinnacle. The Sector Three Fleet had launched out of Euro/Asia, the centre for the Anderson Universal Incorporated Technical Development division. Our science kept the ships flying.

Hopefully.

All I could do now was trust we’d got it right and that Corvus, the AI, was doing what we’d asked of it.

I glanced to my right; I had a habit of doing that. And even in the warped world of transitioning, I could see her. Commander Sophia Teresa Anderson. Simon’s granddaughter. Even distorted she looked fierce. Her face hard and set, her eyes determined. The blue of her irises flashing as brightly as the warping lights.

My stomach somersaulted. Gravity seemed too light, but my feet were still rooted to the deck. I clutched the console before me and gritted my teeth. And then we were through, and I could suddenly suck in a full breath.

“Status!” Captain Petrov barked. Quicker than I was to get my bearings.

“All systems nominal,” Commander Anderson replied, equally as swift as the captain at clearing her head.

It took longer for the rest of the flight deck to reply.

“Scanning fleet,” Corvus announced.

The world focused finally. Navigation and helm still seemed not quite with us. Tactical was attempting to enter commands into their console, but kept missing the touchscreen.

“The Sector Three Fleet is accounted for, Captain.”

I let out a sigh of relief, confirming Corvus’ assessment.

“I concur,” I offered.

“Excellent,” the captain said, sounding relieved. “That was…”

“Red alert!” Corvus announced over the gel wall speakers, cutting off Captain Petrov mid-sentence.

“Nature of alert,” Petrov demanded.

“Incoming message,” Corvus advised.

“Play message.”

“Negative. Red alert.”

The captain looked toward me. I entered commands into my console, but Corvus refused to reply. It had never done that before. Even when executing multiple systems checks and diagnoses, and carrying out several conversations at once, the AI had never failed to reply to a command.

“I’m not sure, Captain,” I said before he could ask. “Something’s not right.”

“Find an answer for me, Lieutenant Commander,” Petrov barked. “Everyone else, you heard Corvus; red alert.”

The gel walls pulsed red. The mood on the flight deck plummeted.

“What have you got for me?” the captain asked everyone at once.

“We’re not alone,” Lieutenant Gāo at the tactical console announced.

“Aliens?” Sokolov at the helm squeaked.

“Don’t be absurd,” the captain said steadily. “Gāo, extrapolate.”

“It’s Aquila, sir. Approaching fast.”

Silence descended on the flight deck. Aquila, the Sector Four lead vessel, should have been several thousand parsecs from here by now. Had something gone wrong?

“Hail them, Oleksiy,” the captain ordered the communications officer.

“Channel open,” she replied. “Aquila is not responding.”

“Keep hailing them,” Petrov demanded. “Saitō? Is Corvus with us?”

I rechecked my commands. All of them had been ignored. Corvus was there, but not responding. Something was wrong with our AI, and I had no answer to give the captain. I shook my head. Tried one last command; a command not many knew about. One of two that Simon had given me many years ago in case of an emergency.

I wasn’t sure if this constituted the type of emergency Simon Anderson envisaged, but an unresponsive AI seemed rather dire to me. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration the fact that Aquila was approaching at FTL speeds.

And there it was. A corruption in our communications systems. A line of code that meant absolutely nothing but which had Corvus chasing its tail trying to purge it at all costs.

4fgh#de3&kls9*@bgsed!

“Communications has been corrupted, sir,” I advised.

“How?”

I delved further into Corvus’ code.

hello corvus
i’ve been waiting

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

Commander Anderson peered over my shoulder. I hadn’t even seen or heard her move.

She spun on her heel, seeing the answer before I did, and shouted, “Evasive manoeuvres!”

Helm reacted immediately. She may not have been the captain, but she was the first officer, despite what some on board thought of that commission. Here, on the flight deck, if the first officer issued a command, you followed it. Captain’s orders.

The fact that the captain had made that an order at all was telling. Simon’s granddaughter fought an uphill battle. Ironic, considering the vessel was actually hers.

“Commander?” Petrov said calmly as the ship began a series of tight rolls and sporadic engine bursts.

“Aquila has corrupted the communications systems,” I offered on behalf of the commander. “It seems…aggressive in nature.”

“Advise the fleet to follow suit,” Petrov commanded Oleksiy.

“The message won’t reach them,” Anderson said. “Saitō, any chance Corvus can take control of their main boost thrusts?”

“I’ll see what I can do, Commander.”

“I am attempting to contrrrrrrrrol the fleet’s engines, Commanderrrrrrrr.”

“What the hell was that, Saitō?” Petrov asked.

I wanted to step back from my console. I wanted to shake my head in denial. I took a leaf from Commander Anderson’s book and wiped all expression from my features.

“Corvus has been corrupted, Captain,” I said.

Silence.

And then Aquila fired its energy cannons.

Three

You Heard The Commander

Sophia

The blast took out our port side auxiliary engines. We still had main boost thrust, but we’d sustained significant damage. Lights flashed. Klaxons blared. Corvus kept issuing its corrupted warnings.

“Rrrrrrrred alerrrrrrrrt! Rrrrrrrred alerrrrrrrrt!”

There was so much going on at once that for a horrifying moment we did nothing.

And then Captain Petrov took control of the situation.

“Power up our cannons,” he said, his deep voice carrying over the cacophony of noise on the bridge. Resigned and filled with dread.

This was really happening.

Lieutenant Gāo responded a few moments later. “Energy cannons online.”

Petrov sucked in a breath of air, as Corvus rotated on its axis narrowly missing further shots from Aquila, and then said, “Fire at will.”

Blue light emitted from our banks of cannons, arcing through the darkness of space towards our sister ship. Aquila spun, its starboard nacelles scorched in the attack, but otherwise unharmed. It barrelled out of its roll and swooped in behind us.

In my mind, I thought it beautiful. Its movements graceful and impossible and yet so very stunning. Their helm officer was not flying the vessel, I realised. How could a human execute such a manoeuvre? The AI had to be in control, which begged the question: What were the Anderson Universal crew doing?

“A stray shot from Aquila has damaged two of our sector fleet vessels,” I advised the captain. Watching as they struggled to move a safe distance away from the battle.

“Can we help them, Saitō?” Petrov asked.

“Negative, Captain,” the chief science officer said. “Corvus is not responding to any of my commands. Even the commands it shouldn’t be able to ignore,” he added in a mutter.

I didn’t think the captain heard that added sentence. But I did. I studied the lieutenant commander for a brief moment and then felt Corvus rock hard, making me lose my balance and fall to the floor. Saitō offered me a hand up, his eyes never leaving his console.

Whatever he’d meant by that mutter, he was focused and hadn’t stopped trying to reach Corvus. I returned my attention to the ship’s systems. Medical emergencies were being recorded all over the vessel.

“We’re leaking atmosphere on Deck G, Habitat Two,” I announced. “Medical is responding to thirteen callouts. Two confirmed dead, Captain.”

Petrov looked stoic and as if he’d aged ten years in the past ten minutes.

“They’re doing more damage to us than we are to them,” he said. “Oleksiy, can we hail Aquila at all?”

“I can try, Captain,” she said. “No reply, sir,” she added a moment later. “I’m not sure our comms are getting out at all.”

“Saitō?” the captain queried.

“They’re not, sir. Corvus’s communications subroutines have been corrupted. So far, the AI has been unable to correct the corruption, but it is trying.”

The ship rocked again, and a low whine started up through the hull, direct from the engines.

“Engineering!” Petrov barked. But they didn’t reply.

I moved across to the engineering console and checked their systems. Clearly, we’d lost internal comms as well as external, and engineering couldn’t reach us.

“Main boost thrust is operating at 80%, Captain,” I advised. “We’ve taken a direct hit to our port nacelle.”

Petrov looked angry.

“Gāo, get that blasted ship off our rear end,” he barked.

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Helm, get us out of here,” the captain added.

“Yes, sir.”

“Saitō, tell me Corvus has made it through to the rest of the fleets’ engines.”

“Negative, sir. But they are following,” the lieutenant commander said.

Sokolov put us through a series of loops and rolls, spiralling the vessel to avoid incoming energy shots from Aquila. For its part, Aquila doggedly followed us, hounding our hull, blasting holes into Decks D, C and B. It was targeting our main systems, I thought numbly. Engineering, computer core, and medical. It was trying to take out our heart.

I looked up at the viewscreen, watching stars streak past and blue light from their energy cannons sweep by our sides; so close I could almost feel the heat and power as it brushed against our hull.

Lieutenant Sokolov was doing a fine job avoiding as many of the hits as he could, but still, Aquila was landing more than we were. Two of the Sector Three Fleet vessels had joined in, at peril to themselves, and added their firepower to ours. But it wasn’t enough.

Not enough, in any case, for an AI who could out think us, outmanoeuvre us, and outshoot us. We had as many cannons as Aquila did, but somehow the AI made its cannons more effective. Faster. Harder. More precise than ours.

Even three against one was not enough to deter the Anderson Universal vessel from trying to destroy us.

The only saving grace was that it hadn’t actively started firing on our fleet. Its sole focus right now was on us, and only stray shots had managed to inflict any damage to our charges. We couldn’t protect them, so the fact that most of the fleet was hanging back, staying out of the fight, was a good thing.

But the more they hung back, the farther they got from us and each other. And the distance was opening. If Aquila succeeded in destroying us, it’d have no problem picking them off one by one afterwards.

I wanted desperately to contact them. To urge them to stay together. Even if it were in a fleet without us, it would still be safety in numbers. They were all armed. They might be able to protect themselves en masse against Aquila. Might.

But not if they were spaced too far apart.

My mind calculated possibilities, even as it discarded one idea after another, finally settling on a plan of action that seemed best.

“Saitō,” I said, loud enough for the lieutenant commander to hear me over the rest of the noise on the bridge right then. “What other means of communication do we have?”

“I don’t understand the question, Commander?” he replied in that inoffensive manner he had.

“How else does Corvus communicate with the fleet other than the communications system?”

He blinked at me as the ship swooped and rocked and somewhere atmosphere vented and the emergency bulkheads all slammed into place. Petrov was issuing commands in the background. Our energy cannons were slowly losing their stored power as they rained down hell on what should not have been our enemy. Bits of debris and pieces of our hull floated off into space all around us, leaving a trail of destruction in our wake for the fleet to follow.

Saitō looked at me as if none of that was happening. As if I was the most important person in the room right then.

And then he nodded his head and started entering commands into his console.

“Corvus uses a different frequency to direct the fleet’s various navigation systems to fly in perfect synchrony,” he announced. “I can access that; I don’t believe it’s been corrupted yet.” I didn’t like the sound of that ‘yet’. “What would you like me to convey, Commander?”

“Tell them to stick together,” I said. “Safety in numbers. And to follow our trail when the path looks clear.”

I glanced at the captain who was watching us, listening in on our conversation.

“Commander,” he said. “You have a plan?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “We lead Aquila away from the fleet and lose him in this asteroid belt.”

I brought the belt in question up on the main viewscreen. Corvus had managed to scan the system we’d appeared in before the AI had been corrupted. The asteroid belt was orbiting a distant sun and was big enough to hide amongst.

“It’ll be tight,” I said. “But Sokolov can handle it.”

The helm officer stared at me and then slowly straightened his back and shoulders, looking surer of his abilities.

“Lay in a course, Lieutenant Bahl,” the captain said. Petrov offered me a smile. “Well done, Commander. We might just make it out of this mess alive.”

I hoped so. If we could convince Aquila we were destroyed or beyond repair, then maybe it would leave the rest of the fleet alone. With them separated from us, the AI might think the fleet wouldn’t know what we’d done. Where we’d gone and why. It might think that we’d abandoned them.

But I couldn’t know for sure what the AI would do. It was an AI. And it was clearly corrupted.

I glanced at Saitō. The chief science officer, though, might be able to provide some insight on the damn thing once we reached safety.

“You heard the commander,” Captain Petrov said loudly. “We lead this blasted ship away from our flock, and we lose it in that field of rocks.”

“Aye-aye,” the flight crew said as one, right when Aquila managed to hit Deck A. Somewhere near the leaseholder’s quarters. Close enough to the bridge to make consoles pop and viewscreens darken, and the captain to be thrown from his command chair and flung hard against the engineering console.

Sparks flew, sirens blared, a fire started.

And then the engineering console exploded, taking a chunk of Captain Petrov along with it.

Four

Lay It On Us

Leo

I stared at the charred remains of Captain Petrov; a hole in his chest displaying his pulverised chest cavity. Blood had splattered all over Commander Anderson, who’d moments earlier returned to her own console. But she’d been close enough to be hit by debris and bits and pieces of our former captain.

She looked stunned. Collapsed on the floor, blood dribbling down her neck from her ear, scrapes and bruises forming on her right cheek. Her eyes too large for her face as she stared at the inert form of Vladimir Petrov.

Alarms rang out around us. Lights flashed, and fire suppressant foam poured from the gel ceiling, smothering the various fires dotted about the bridge. The air filtration system sucked out the toxins and smoke, leaving the room coated in a mild haze that did nothing to adequately reflect the disaster that had happened.

Captain Petrov was dead.

Gāo had stopped firing his cannons; too stunned at what had transpired. Sokolov’s attempts to further evade Aquila was half-hearted at best, but the helm officer did keep us flying. Oleksiy was crying, and Bahl was sitting immobile at the navigation console.

For a suspended moment in time, the universe paused, held its breath, and waited.

And then Commander Anderson dragged herself up off the floor and looked at the rest of the flight deck. I watched as she pushed her grief aside, as she hid her emotions from everyone, including herself. I watched as her face turned hard and unforgiving and her breaths evened out.

“Keep firing those cannons, Lieutenant Gāo,” she said steadily. There wasn’t a quaver in her voice to be heard. Rocksteady. Sure. It was exactly what the flight deck needed. “Helm, get us out of here.”

She turned to look at me.

“Did that message get through?” she asked.

I would have said yes just to please her right then. I would have told her anything she wanted to hear. But Sophia Anderson, the newly minted Captain of the Sector Three Fleet lead vessel Corvus, didn’t need sycophants around her. She needed officers who knew their jobs and did them unfailingly.

In this, at least, I could help her. Because I was thinking Captain Anderson was going to need a hell of a lot of help to get us out of this nightmare.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “All seven vessels acknowledged the message and are moving themselves into an appropriate formation.”

“How far are we from them, Lieutenant Bahl?” she asked navigation.

“We’re increasing the distance with every parsec, Commander.”

“Captain,” I corrected.

Silence descended over the flight deck. Or as silent, as it could get in the middle of a space battle.

“Captain Anderson,” I said, reinforcing the directive.

For her part, the captain looked a little stunned. And then she hid the reaction as she hid so much of herself.

“Captain,” Bahl repeated looking a little startled.

I couldn’t tell if his reaction was simply because of the shock of it all or because he didn’t like the idea that Sophia Anderson was now Corvus’ commander-in-chief.

Sophia cleared her throat and then looked at the command chair. I saw the hesitation in her eyes, even as she kept a neutral expression on her features. Perhaps I’d been watching the commander a little too often lately; I’d started to see past the hardened exterior. The impassive look. The shield she kept in place.

Stretching her neck, she walked to Petrov’s chair and took a seat. Then proceeded to buckle herself in; something Petrov had failed to do, sadly.

I wasn’t certain Sophia wanted this responsibility. Surely, being Simon Anderson’s only surviving relative, the sole heir to Anderson Universal Incorporated, she could have taken on any role she wanted. She could have simply been a top-tier paid passenger and travelled in luxury. But that was not the nature of Simon’s granddaughter, I believed. Sophia was a fighter. I knew that much about her.

She fought for her place onboard this ship, in amongst its crew, every single day.

Why? I didn’t know. Responsibility maybe. I couldn’t say. But I admired her for it. Greatly.

“Asteroid belt three minutes and fourteen seconds away,” I announced. The room had been too silent. We needed to find our footing again, and directing the flight deck to our purpose, the last command issued by our former captain, seemed the safest way to go right then.

“Aquila is still firing,” Gāo added. “We’ve managed to land a couple of decent shots, but I doubt we’ve done any real damage.”

“Don’t worry about that, Lieutenant,” Sophia said. “Just keep hounding them with everything you’ve got.”

“Energy cannons at 32%, Captain,” he added, in case she didn’t know we were running out of juice.

“Keep firing,” she replied equably. “Aquila doesn’t know that, and we’ll be inside the belt before we run out of ammo.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.”

“I can’t come in at full speed,” Sokolov said nervously. “It’s too tight.”

“If you reduce speed now, they’ll be on us, Lieutenant,” Sophia offered. Steady. Sure. And in some strange way encouraging.

Sokolov gritted his teeth but said nothing.

“Lieutenant Bahl,” Sophia called. “Scan that belt and find us the biggest opening.”

“Some of them are barely big enough to fit a shuttle through,” he grumbled.

“I’ve seen your navigation training records, Lieutenant,” Sophia said levelly. “Don’t tell me you can’t find us a path through those rocks.”

Bahl sucked in a breath and then started frantically entering commands on his console.

“Corvus has contained the atmosphere leaks,” I advised. Any piece of news was good news right now, and the flight deck needed it.

“Good work, Commander,” she said. I wasn’t sure if she’d misspoken. Sophia was usually so very careful saying my full rank: Lieutenant Commander. The situation was stressful, so perhaps she’d slipped up.

But a part of me wondered who’d she’d make her first officer and if she’d consider me.

She’d need someone she could trust. Someone who would have her back. I wanted, at that moment, for that someone to be me.

I didn’t really know Sophia Anderson personally. I knew how she’d conducted herself in training and once onboard the ship. Both of which had impressed me.

But what I did know, outside of Anderson Universal Incorporated, was what Simon had told me of his granddaughter. And through him, I had somehow become more familiar with the woman, the young girl, that Simon had loved. And consequently, I’d become enamoured with her, too.

Corvus rocked and rolled and spun through tight formations, as the asteroid belt quickly approached. Sweat beaded Sokolov’s face, and Bahl was still tapping away wildly on his console keyboard.

“I need a vector!” Sokolov shouted.

“Easy, Lieutenant,” Sophia murmured. “Bahl?”

“Got it, Captain! Sending coordinates to helm now.”

“Good work,” she said smiling. Bahl beamed back at her.

The rest of the ship might not understand what we had in Sophia Anderson, but this flight crew did. It would take time to convince everyone else, but if I had my way, the whole universe would soon know it.

Aquila fired relentlessly at our stern. Chasing us down like a rabid dog snapping at our ankles. Corvus rocked and lurched, helm becoming less and less responsive.

“You’ve got this, Sokolov,” Sophia said at exactly the right moment. Sokolov knuckled down.

Blue energy blasts shot past our sides, some connecting, some destroying the asteroids in front of our bow. Sokolov deftly adjusted course, following Bahl’s navigation coordinates as closely as he could manage, until we shot through a tiny gap, no bigger than Corvus itself, and swept in and around floating bits of rocks as large as trucks and high rise buildings, and in some cases, as big as Deimos; one of the moons of Mars.

Aquila followed us in, dodging stray rocks and our trailing debris with AI precision. The deeper we went, the less I thought we’d lose them. The AI hounded us. Pounded us with its energy cannons. Alarms blared. Warning lights flashed. The whole ship shook and vibrated with every blast that connected.

There was no way we were going to outrun it. No way we could outmanoeuvre it. No way we could outshoot it.

And to prove that fact, Gāo said, “I’m out of power. Plasma guns only, Captain.”

“Use them to keep him distracted, but reserve our torpedoes until the last minute.”

Plasma and energy cannons we could replenish. Torpedoes were a one-time use type of weapon. The order was sound, but I wondered if Sophia thought we’d have to resort to the torpedoes before this battle was over.

I know I was not alone on the flight deck right then to consider it myself.

We needed to do something. Fast.

I checked Corvus. The AI was still not responding, but it was working hard in the background. We hadn’t lost it completely. That was something. I studied the earlier scan of the asteroid belt. There were several possible sites. Luck was on our side, but would it hang around a little longer?

“Captain,” I said over the alarms and creaks and groans of the vessel.

“What have you got, Saitō?” she replied as if she was certain I did have something worthwhile to tell her.

That’s what she did, I realised. She showed faith in each and every officer. She bolstered them with her conviction that they could contribute, could be a part of something bigger than themselves.

Petrov had been a steady presence, an older officer who exuded experience.

Anderson was something else. No less convincing or effective. My crush was growing by the minute.

“We need a distraction,” I said. “A ruse to make Aquila back off.”

“You want to trick an AI?” she asked steadily. There was no inflexion in her tone, but somehow it still sounded dry.

“It may not think we’re completely dead in the water,” I said. “But it might think trying to find us in this mess isn’t worth its troubles if we’re perceived as severely damaged.”

Sophia looked at me for a moment and then nodded her head.

“All right, Commander.” There was that slip again. “Lay it on us.”

Like Sokolov and Bahl before me, I puffed out my chest and laid out my plan, all the while wanting nothing more than my captain to smile encouragingly at me.

An emerging part of me wondered if ‘encouraging’ would be the only type of smiles I’d want from Sophia. Or if I’d one day want for more.

Five

The Thought Was Macabre And Disquieting

Sophia

I wasn’t entirely sure if the asteroid belt had been a good idea, but we couldn’t have stayed out in the open a moment longer. Systems were failing across the board, the ship had holes in its sides that the containment fields were having trouble sealing, and our power usage had increased a hundredfold, making the main boost thrust spool beyond its normal capacity.

If we kept this up, we wouldn’t need Aquila to destroy us. We’d do it all by ourselves.

But the asteroid field was slowing Aquila down. Even though it was the same size as us, and the vessel was being flown by an AI, there were some things a human could do better.

Like, take risks that had a slim chance of survival.

“I’m not sure if I can keep this up,” Lieutenant Sokolov gritted. Sweat dribbled down his neck and into his uniform collar.

“You’re doing great,” I said steadily, leaning forward in my seat as if I could help him. “You’re almost there. Gāo, have you got a lock on that asteroid?”

“Negative, Captain. The calculations are too complex to compute a firing solution. I’ll have to fire manually.”

I breathed through my nose and tried not to panic.

“Everyone buckled in?” I asked. A room full of “aye-ayes” followed. “Any way we can warn the rest of the ship, Saitō?” I added, already knowing what the answer would be, but remaining resolutely hopeful.

If anyone could reach Corvus, it was Leo Saitō.

“Negative, Captain. But I should think by now they’d be holding onto something.”

It was an extremely dry thing to say, and I couldn’t be sure if I’d heard Saitō make a comment like that before. He was a very unassuming officer. He kept his head down and did his job. He’d never once failed to salute me.

But I kind of liked that in the middle of a space battle his sense of humour peeked out even if only slightly.

I grinned at him and arched my brow. Then Aquila managed to hit us again in the port nacelle.

“Lost main boost thrust on the port side!” Sokolov shouted.

“Steady, Lieutenant. You can do this.” I wasn’t sure if my words of encouragement were getting through anymore, he was gripping the helm control with an iron fist, the whites of his knuckles standing out against his darker skin.

His hands shook. His eyes were wide. We had to end this.

“Do it now, Gāo; we’re close enough,” I ordered.

“Firing,” the tactical officer announced. His face was set, and his eyes were steady. He’d been under a certain amount of pressure as well, but nothing compared to Lieutenant Sokolov. The pressure, though, was building.

We watched the main viewscreen as asteroids flashed past and the blue of Aquila’s energy blasts shot into space all around us. And then a torpedo released, and we watched it flare to life in front of us, and then speed towards its destination.

“Bring us in close, Sokolov,” I ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” he managed to squeak. It would have gone against everything he’d been trained to do. And had Corvus been paying attention, the AI might have stepped in and stopped him. But Corvus was AWOL, and Sokolov knew the plan, and even if this might kill us, if we did nothing, we’d certainly die at Aquila’s hand.

The ship swooped around an asteroid the size of a small house, chasing the torpedo down. We held our breaths as the missile’s tail obscured our vision, and then at the last second before detonation, Sokolov pulled hard to starboard, bearing our belly to the beast for a split second.

The asteroid the torpedo hit exploded, rock and space debris belted into our underside. Corvus rocked. Alarms blared. The straps of my seatbelt dug into my chest and sides, stealing all breath. And then the force of the blast pushed us up and away, making the ship collide with more asteroids, and all of our systems to fail.

Shit.

“Saitō,” I said as levelly as I could manage.

“Rebooting,” he shot back. “Stand by, Captain.”

“Make it count, Commander,” I murmured, gripping the armrests of my chair with aching fingers. I hadn’t realised I’d been clutching the damn thing for so long. My knuckles had all gone white, too.

Lights flickered on all over the vessel, and then Saitō quickly snuffed half of them out, making it look like we were more crippled than we were.

“Get us moving, Sokolov,” I urged.

“Aye-aye,” he said, engaging the starboard nacelle and blasting us out of the danger zone.

“Stand by, Gāo.” He said nothing, eyes focused and hands at the ready.

We ducked behind a moon-sized asteroid, leaving what I could only assume was a stunned Aquila behind, and fired our second torpedo.

This time the explosion almost took us out. I couldn’t hear for the ringing of alarms and could barely see for the flashing lights on all of the bridge consoles. The ship rock and lurched, and smacked into an asteroid that had to have done severe damage, and then we slipped through the debris field, getting pelted port and starboard.

“Gāo, now!” I shouted.

“Flotsam away!” the lieutenant announced with far more enthusiasm than I’d expected. It was as if he was having fun at last.

“There it is,” Saitō announced. “Port side, lower quadrant. Sokolov,” he added, “see it?”

“Yes, sir,” Sokolov replied, staring our destination asteroid down. “She’s sluggish,” he added, fighting the helm controls for purchase.

Come on, I thought fervently. Come on! Just a little longer.

“Have we got Aquila on scans?” I asked.

“Still behind us,” Saitō called. “Investigating our wreckage. The AI’s buying it.”

I shook my head. It was still too soon to pat ourselves on the back.

Sokolov fought the controls every bit of the way as the asteroid moon Saitō had chosen loomed ever larger on our viewscreen. I could see the pits and valleys. I could see the rough, rocky terrain it was made up of. Molten metals and compressed carbons. The surface was mainly black, but here and there something glinted, like diamonds.

I only hoped this particular asteroid would prove a gem for us.

The ship spun on its axis, rocking side to side as if the inertial dampeners were offline. They probably were. This was going to be a rough landing. Our sides scraped the edges of the valley Saitō had found us, and then something snapped off our top as Sokolov urged the vessel deeper into the shadows.

With one last triumphant fist smash against his control panel, Corvus shuddered to a halt at the lieutenant’s command, and landing boosters ignited. Then with far more finesse than I thought possible, the helm officer lowered Corvus to its resting place, well out of sight from Aquila.

The ship jerked and shuddered to a stop, the sound of the vessel hitting something hard sounded out through the hull. Creaks and groans followed. I almost expected something to explode, which had me glancing across the bridge to where Captain Petrov still lay. Unmoving. We hadn’t even had time to tie him down. His body could have gone flailing.

The thought was macabre and disquieting.

I forced a breath out. Made myself suck in another. And then said, “Power us down, Saitō.”

And watched the entire bridge go dark, knowing the rest of the ship had done so, too.

The passengers would be frantic. I had no way to reassure them. Life support and air filtration still worked, but in all other aspects, Corvus was dead. Dead to observant eyes and observant scans, hopefully.

Dead to Aquila.

Six

There Was A Lot That Needed To Be Fixed

Leo

My hands were shaking. I was covered in sweat. My eyes felt the size of saucers. But the longer we sat there in the dark, silent and still, the more the realisation hit me.

We’d done it. We’d tricked an AI into thinking we were space dust.

Sophia let out a small breath of air which sounded loud in the aftermath of all the alarms and shouts and craziness. I blinked, trying to see her, but there was no light in our little hole, and life support didn’t need illumination.

“Well done,” she said quietly. “But we’re not out of the woods yet.”

She activated a light on her command chair, one that was no doubt isolated from other systems and used in an emergency. The dim glow barely lit up the entirety of the bridge, but it was enough to see her face. She looked pale. Her skin glistening. Her dark hair was matted to her forehead and temples. It had come loose from its tight bun. She was stretching out her hands as if she’d been curling her fingers for too long and they were aching.

But to look at her face, you’d think she was calm.

“Suit up,” she said. “LSUs minus helmets. We’ll just use their isolated running lights for now.”

Everyone unlatched themselves from their seats and made their way to their lockers. I watched the captain out of the corner of my eye as she methodically attached the outer layers of her Life Support Unit.

“I need an update on all systems,” she announced as she placed her feet into the exo-boots. “That’s you, Saitō. I don’t care who you rope in to do it outside of this room, but get me updates across the board.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said eagerly. She was exactly what this ship needed.

“As we’re not going anywhere,” she added, “Sokolov, you’re now a runner.”

“Runner, Captain?”

“I need someone to get down to security and bring the chief and as many men as he has available back here. This is still command central, but everything will have to be done manually. So running it is.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sokolov replied. It was a good choice. She needed Lieutenant Commander Kulik up to speed and on her side. I wasn’t sure what her relationship was like with the security chief, but sending a fellow Russian from the flight deck, and one she’d most certainly won over, to convince him was wise.

Vladimir Petrov might have supported Sophia being the First Officer, but that didn’t mean the rest of the senior crew did. Sophia was treading very dangerous ground.

“Lieutenant Bahl,” she said next. “You’re on medical. I need an update from Dr Lin, and she needs to retrieve the captain.”

Silence and then a very solemn, “Yes, ma’am.”

Sophia held Bahl’s gaze for a moment and then nodded her head.

“Lieutenant Oleksiy.”

“Yes, Captain,” the communications officer said. She looked the worst of everyone, not counting the blood that still splattered Sophia’s face and chest.

“I need an update from the mayor.”

“The mayor?” Oleksiy said, alarmed.

“I’ll give you a datapad with my report on it for him, but I need to know how the passengers are faring. And he needs to know we’re on manual communications.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Oleksiy said more steadily, perhaps thankful she’d just be able to thrust a datapad under the mayor’s nose and not have to say anything. We were all a little scared of the mayor.

“Gāo, you’re with me,” Sophia finally said. “Until we get a few more runners from security, I’m not risking anything else by leaving the bridge unprotected.”

“Unprotected, Captain?”

“There’ll be panic,” she said, finishing up on her LSU. “People will want answers. If they can’t get them from the mayor, then they’ll come looking for them here. Load up. Side arms and spare ammunition. The same goes for everyone who’s leaving the deck.”

She was right, but it went against all I believed in as an Anderson Universal crew member. And then I thought of the way the crew resented her commission. The disrespect shown her every day since we’d launched. The way the mayor always looked at her with wariness. How Sophia’s presence on the flight deck seemed to threaten him in some way.

Everyone loved Anderson Universal for saving us. They even spoke well of Simon, calling him the grandfather of space flight. He’d had the AIs created. His work had led to FTL flight and the jump points’ existence. He’d made our escape possible. But strangely, or perhaps not, humans were contrary beings, that sentiment did not extend to his granddaughter.

It might have been her young age and background. She wasn’t military and hadn’t come up through the astronaut ranks. Sophia had been involved in AU management. She was a numbers cruncher. A project manager. An overseer who guided from behind the safety of a desk.

Her last role in the firm had been in charge of Anderson Universal Incorporated’s Human Resources Division. At the time the flares had first hit, she’d been in our sector, carrying out routine staff assessments with her team. AU headquarters, her home ground, had been back in London. That’s where Simon had died. Sophia had been trapped in Japan at the time and couldn’t get back to him.

But he’d relied on her, trusted her, and in the end, spoken for her. Thankfully, Vladimir Petrov had heard his words and obliged. And now she’d replaced our captain. I knew there was more to Sophia than her accounting and organisational skills. I knew Simon had trained her well in all departments. But what people saw was what they wanted to see; where she’d come from and who she’d publicly been.

To them, she was a director of a non-militarised section of the company. A part that they believed had already done all it could do by providing the crew for the ships. They thought her worth was exhausted and much like a leaseholder, she needed to hide away somewhere and be good.

I didn’t. I saw a great commanding officer in the making. Someone with insight into all departments, not just command of what had now become a military styled ship. She understood the AIs; how could she not, being Simon’s granddaughter. She understood the crews that kept this vessel flying. And right now, this vessel needed someone who understood it because it was falling apart.

And she’d just proven how good she was in battle. We just needed to convince the rest of the ship of that. While trying to rebuild it, save Corvus, and avoid being killed by Aquila.

I snorted softly to myself. Yeah, that was looking easy from the shadows of our hiding hole on one of thousands of space rocks.

“All right,” Sophia said, standing to full height, her LSU hugging her body and illuminating the space around her. “Let’s get this ship functioning in at least some capacity and then we’ll start rebuilding it.” Her eyes drifted over to where Captain Petrov lay. Sadness flared within her gaze and then she sucked in a deep breath and stood stoically before us. “Watch yourselves,” she said. “I want you all back here in one piece. You’re my A-team.”

Everyone acknowledged her with a salute and affirmative, and then we headed out. The doors required a manual operation to open them, and the darkness of the flight deck corridor yawned like a hungry maw before us. But we had our orders.

I stepped out first. The others all seemed to hesitate. But our captain had given us instructions, and I was damn well going to follow them to the letter. I’d get a sit-rep on each system, and I’d hand my captain the best report I could manage.

And then I’d help her keep control of this ship and fix everything.

There was a lot that needed to be fixed.

Seven

Well, This Is Unfortunate

Sophia

It was Saitō who ventured out first. He’d really stepped up to the plate today. His unflappable attitude in the face of imminent demise had been reassuring. To the flight deck and me. Having a solid senior officer in my corner was promising. But I knew my battles weren’t over yet.

“How are you doing, Gāo?” I asked.

“Shocked, Captain,” he said in a barely there whisper, his eyes on Petrov.

“Shall we cover him?” I asked, heading to an emergency locker and pulling out a fire blanket.

Gāo came over and stood beside me, both of us staring down at the man who had led us unfailingly since launch. Petrov was a gaping hole inside my heart and head. Someone I knew I’d been able to trust onboard a ship that was filled with hazards.

“He will be missed,” I said and covered him with the blanket.

We said nothing for a long while, just standing there and staring down at the covered body of the captain, and then I sucked in a breath and looked around the bridge.

“How about we get some order up here before they all return?” I suggested. “We’re going to need to clear the ops table of debris and set up some lighting. If we can isolate a console, so we have some computing power, that would be helpful.”

“Can we do that, ma’am?”

I shrugged. “Worth a try,” I said.

Gāo furrowed his forehead but started shifting debris into piles in the corner of the bridge. By the time we had the ops table clear, and a spare LSU unit placed to the side offering illumination, Oleksiy had returned.

She looked pale, and her hands were shaking. I wouldn’t have put it past the mayor to have chewed her out. I was sorry she’d drawn the short straw, but everyone knew the mayor liked his women, and I’d hoped the only other female officer on the bridge had been enough of a feminine distraction to disarm him. Clearly, I’d been wrong.

“Captain,” she said, handing me my datapad back.

“You OK, Oleksiy?” I asked.

“Fine, ma’am.” She promptly sat down on the closest chair.

With a sigh, I swiped the datapad and read the mayor’s message.

I do not appreciate receiving this report via a lackey. You should have attended me in person. The nature of command onboard this ship is vital to the safety of its passengers; my first concern. If you can’t follow the lease parameters correctly, get someone who can, and do what you’re good at. Sit in the corner and look pretty.

I arched my brow at the datapad and looked back at Oleksiy.

“Did he say anything?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding her head vigorously. “He had a lot to say.”

I almost laughed at the shocked expression on the lieutenant’s face.

“Give me an abridged version if it’s easier, Lieutenant,” I ordered.

“Yes, ma’am. The mayor was not pleased, and he told me so, ma’am. In many colourful words liberally dotted with sexist observations. I kept silent, ma’am, but it was difficult.” I bet. “In the end, he threw the datapad back at me and told me he had civilians to care for. I did ask him then, ma’am, if he had an idea of how many had been injured. I figured you’d want to know. He told me when he wanted a woman to bother him with verbal demands, she’d better be asking for harder and more.”

I stared at her while Gāo choked on his tongue in the background. I was fairly certain he wasn’t laughing, but I couldn’t be entirely sure. That was the problem with a military-run organisation. They were a boys club and admission was granted to those with certain anatomical features and not because of someone’s level of skill. Grandpa had lamented it time and again, but a military styled organisation was needed to traverse the hazards of space.

More so now than ever.

“Colourful indeed, Lieutenant,” I agreed sympathetically. She offered me a small smile. “Well done for holding your tongue,” I added. She grinned more broadly. I had the feeling she might have held her tongue, but she certainly would have given him hell with her eyeballs.

I turned to look at Gāo who had got himself back under control. He stiffened and looked straight ahead, aware his reaction hadn’t been missed by me.

“I need someone down in the habitats,” I said to him. “Getting a feel for the passengers’ reaction and calming them somewhat. That man is going to be you.”

“It is?” he said, stunned. “Captain,” he added quickly.

“Take some of the security team with you when they arrive,” I added, ignoring his near miss on my new honorific. “But you’ll be in charge. Use that tactical brain of yours to get the best results from all decks and get the info back to us up here regularly. The mayor might be in charge of the civilian population, but that doesn’t mean they don’t want to be reassured by us.”

Gāo straightened even further. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, moving off to the door and no doubt heading towards the security team on its way up here.

“It’s just us girls,” I said to Oleksiy once he’d gone. She sniggered. “We won’t tell the mayor that, though,” I offered, making her snort out loud.

I returned my attention to the console I’d been tampering with. I could have used Saitō’s input, but I needed to keep busy, and until I had reports coming in, this was at least something I could do with my hands. I wasn’t a newbie when it came to the tech side of the ship, but I wasn’t usually hands on either. I could find my way around a motherboard just as easily as a spreadsheet, but the fact that we didn’t want to send out any signals to Aquila made me jumpy.

I did jump when Oleksiy asked, “How do you do it, Captain?”

I dropped the screwdriver I’d been using and cursed inside my head.

“Do what, Lieutenant?” I replied steadily.

“Put up with the snide comments and such.”

I was surprised she was mentioning it. No one did. But it was just us here on the bridge. Two women in a man’s world.

“I ignore them for the most part,” I said, choosing to answer her. “I believe my actions speak for themselves in the end.”

She huffed out a breath. “The mayor’s an arse,” she said softly.

I didn’t honour that with a reply. We all knew he was, but the captain saying that out loud where anyone could creep up on her and overhear was just plain suicide.

I studied the wires before me, not registering anything for a long time. Sometimes it was hard to see the planets for the stars. This all felt like a huge mountain to climb, and I kept thinking my feet would slip out from under me at any given moment. I needed a good team around me. People I could trust.

I was beginning to trust first shift flight crew. But I needed more than that. I needed a first officer who would always have my back. Not just while we were on the bridge and I was present. But when I wasn’t, and whispers became shouts. When rumours became the backbone of the ship and kept the crew upright.

I needed a strategic commissioning.

Much had been said about me in the course of this journey so far. And I knew more would come about since I’d inherited the captain’s chair. I needed strong people around me. Dr Lin as chief medical officer would have been good. But she wouldn’t make a suitable first officer. Her role would take her in different directions than command. Lieutenant Commander Kulik was an outstanding security officer, though, and I trusted his instincts in that department. Maybe him.

I glanced around the bridge, my eyes landing on Saitō’s console. If I was truthful with myself, I was already leaning towards the chief science officer. He was reserved, upstanding, and honest. He’d proven himself in the past twenty-four hours. I believed he’d make a good second-in-command.

But I couldn’t rush into this. Saitō was loyal, but was he respected by those members of the crew who would question my command?

The bridge doors opened then, and Lieutenant Commander Kulik walked in. He scanned the bridge, spotted the covered form of Captain Petrov, his eyes narrowing and his fists bunching at his sides, and then slid his dark gaze to Oleksiy and finally me.

I had the distinct feeling I’d been assessed and found wanting in the first second of that hard gaze. Kulik had never shied away from stepping forward.

“Captain,” he said, surprising me. And then he added, “Well, this is unfortunate.”

Eight

I Started Running

Leo

It was worse than I would have liked but no worse than predicted, considering. The ship had suffered a full weapons attack. It boggled the mind. But here we were, staring at weeks of repairs before we could even consider flying out of the shelter of this asteroid belt.

I stared at the main engineering console, the chief engineer peering over my shoulder, watching as I queried Corvus directly.

“The AI’s still in control of main boost thrust,” I said, reading the code as it flashed across the screen before my eyes.

“Then why’s it not answering any commands?” Lieutenant Lebedev asked.

“It’s busy,” I said.

“It’s an AI.” He had a point, but Corvus was currently consumed with chasing that corruption down.

“I am herrrrrrrre,” the AI suddenly announced through the walls.

“What the hell?” Lebedev muttered.

I ignored him in favour of the AI. “Have you returned communications to us?” I enquired.

“Negative, Lieutenant Commanderrrrrrrr. I am utilising the gel wall as a go-arrrrrrrround.”

“What’s with the rolling Rs?” Lebedev asked.

“Whatever is corrupting communications is manifesting in Corvus’ voice activation algorithms,” I said. Then to the AI, “Can you repair the damage?”

“Negative. The corrrrrrrruption is complete.”

“Don’t like the sound of that,” the chief muttered.

“Can we use the gel walls?” I asked Corvus, needing something to hand the captain when I returned to the bridge.

“That may be possible,” the AI said. “Stand by.”

“Nice when it finds a sentence without any Rs in it,” Lebedev said dryly. “Wanna bet on how many it can use before it trips up?”

“I’m not taking bets on the AI’s corruption go-arounds,” I snapped.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, contritely. “Just trying to lighten the mood a little.”

I turned to look the chief in the eye.

“And what part of this situation is humorous to you, Lieutenant?” I demanded.

“None, sir. None at all.” I nodded my head at him and returned my attention to the console.

Damn it. I was tired. Short tempered. Easily riled. It wasn’t like me to snap an officer’s head off like that. But we’d just been in a battle. Against a friend that had now become a foe. I’d just seen my captain killed in combat. And we had so many systems offline and needing attention, and I had nothing yet to offer Sophia to soothe the blow.

Come on, Corvus, I urged silently.

The AI must have been practising its telepathy because it replied.

“I have adjusted the gel wall to prrrrrrrrovide communications ship-wide.”

Lebedev snickered quietly behind me. He was either glad he hadn’t taken that bet or was feeling justified in suggesting it. I spared him an arched brow, and he ducked his head sheepishly. I stifled a sigh.

“Connect me to the bridge, Corvus,” I ordered.

“I can also prrrrrrrrovide visual communications,” the AI announced.

Now, that was impressive. I smiled.

“Do so, please,” I said quietly.

The gel wall to the side of my console lit up with a darkened image of the bridge. I could make out the captain standing at the ops table. Oleksiy was at her back, almost in a supportive stance. As if Sophia needed her backing. I frowned at that. Scanning the occupants of the flight deck, I spotted Sokolov edging around the ops table to the captain’s side and Lieutenant Commander Kulik facing off against them, with several of his security team behind him.

None of them had noticed I was watching. Or maybe Corvus had not activated visual on their end.

“Captain,” I said loudly.

Sophia jerked slightly, looking around the bridge with the rest of the officers, and then finally settling her hard gaze on me. I was pretty sure she could see me now, and Corvus was making the visual she had also work as a camera for me. It was spectacularly brilliant. Something I had never seen the gel walls do before.

I wondered briefly whether that was something to be concerned about, but we clearly had greater worries.

“Lieutenant Commander Saitō,” Sophia said crisply. “This is a surprise. Is the bandwidth required for such communications detectable by outside scans?”

I felt chagrined at once. I hadn’t even asked Corvus if that was a possibility. I’d simply wanted to give the captain something she could use. So much for doing my job unfailingly and not acting like a damn sycophant.

I straightened my spine, but Corvus saved me.

“The powerrrrrrrr usage in negligible, Captain. This method of communication is undetectable to scans overrrrrrrr one kilometrrrrrrrre away.”

Sophia cringed slightly and then smoothed out her features.

“Excellent,” she said. “Well done, Saitō.”

I couldn’t take credit, but Sophia was already talking again.

“Have you completed your assessment of our systems, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I managed.

“Return to the bridge.” She was calling me to her for backup.

“On my way, Captain.”

The view on the gel wall slowly dissipated, but not before I saw Sophia turn to face off against Lieutenant Commander Kulik again.

“You all set here, Lebedev?” I asked, eager to get back to the bridge and help my captain.

“As long as I know Corvus is still in there somewhere, I’ll manage,” the chief said. He flicked his eyes at me. “Is she up to this?”

He meant Sophia.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else in that command chair,” I snapped and strode from the room.

Corvus had returned safety lighting to us, so the lights on my LSU weren’t quite as useful anymore. I knew the AI had cleared the safety lighting system for use, as I’d seen the command code it was using in its core processors. Even though distracted by the corruption, the artificial intelligence knew to keep us hidden. It never failed to surprise me how enterprising they could be.

Simon had once said the AIs were more human than us. I hadn’t believed him, and I still didn’t. Not really. The AI was just following commands it had written that best suited the parameters we found ourselves in. The fact that it was constantly learning from itself and others, from even us, was simply a byproduct of its development.

Or so I told myself.

Now and then the gel wall beside me would morph into an image, showing me different segments of the ship. I wasn’t sure what algorithm the computer was using for this particular quirk, but by the time I’d reached the lifts, I already knew that Kulik was challenging the captain and that the mayor was on a warpath toward them.

I started running.

Nine

With Me, If You Please

Sophia

“How do you intend to get us to New Earth?” Lieutenant Commander Kulik demanded, his arms crossed over his thick chest, his eyebrows arched imperiously.

“I think it’s a little too early to be considering that,” I pointed out. “We have a ship to…”

“It’s all that matters in the long run,” the chief of security said cutting me off. “And if you can’t provide an answer to that question, you’ll find yourself inundated with a ship full of doubts. Doubts that may well be justified.”

He was only pointing out what I had already considered, but the thought of New Earth was obscured by more pressing things. Like fixing our port nacelle. Sealing our hull. Counting our dead. Reassigning our staff roster to cover the shortfall. Getting all systems back online.

Fixing Corvus.

And that wasn’t even considering joining up with the rest of our sector fleet and avoiding Aquila.

Kulik stared at me waiting for an answer. I didn’t have one. Without the next jump point, we couldn’t reach New Earth. And without Aquila to place it, we didn’t have a jump point. I had no idea if the lead Sector Four vessel had done that before it went crazy.

We had to assume it hadn’t. We were on our own.

“New Earth is out for now,” I said succinctly.

Kulik offered a cold smile. For some reason, it was reassuring.

“We pour our efforts into making this vessel space worthy,” I announced. “And prepare to rejoin our fleet. We’ll need security to ensure the passengers remain calm.”

My turn to stare expectantly at Kulik. He uncrossed his arms and looked at me steadily.

The bridge door chose that moment to be pried open from the corridor, making several of Kulik’s team turn to face the intruder with their plasma guns.

The mayor slipped through the gap and glared at each and every one of them. They stood strong. My eyes flicked toward Kulik’s to see his reaction to this uninvited guest on our flight deck. His jaw was flexing; he hadn’t expected the mayor, then. Whether that meant the mayor was acting outside a joint plan or he wasn’t privy to one was yet to be seen.

“Mayor Nikolaev,” I said by way of greeting. “Welcome to the bridge.” The last was offered dryly. I was uncertain if he’d picked up on my tone of voice and meaning.

“Commander Anderson.” My name was said derisively. “Who is in charge here?”

He knew. My datapad report had been completed.

“It’s Captain Anderson, Mayor Nikolaev,” I said curtly. “As per the lease agreement.”

If he insisted on throwing the lease in my face, I’d hurl it right back at him. Did he really think I hadn’t had a hand in writing the damn thing? Did he not know my background at all? Or had he dismissed it like so many others?

“I’d like proof of the captain’s demise,” he said levelly. His eyes scanned my body, cinched as it was in the figure-hugging LSU suit. They came back up from their thorough perusal, but rather than settle on my face, they landed on my breasts. “Although, I guess I could get used to this arrangement,” he added.

Sokolov bristled beside me. And even Kulik looked a little repulsed.

I stepped forward before either could do something the mayor would object to. I’d rather his ire directed at me and not my crew.

“As you wish, Mayor Nikolaev,” I said and walked toward where the captain lay under the fire blanket. I pulled the blanket back without preamble, making sure to show the gory wound in his chest.

I hated using the remains of a once fine man to achieve a blow against a snivelling excuse for masculinity. But I’d use every weapon I had to control the mayor before he attempted to control the bridge.

“Satisfied?” I asked, letting the disgust I felt enter my tone.

The mayor blinked and then took a step back. Any ground he’d gained upon entering our domain uninvited was instantly lost.

“Please have the mayor escorted back to his offices,” I said to Kulik. Part of me wondered if the security chief would use the moment to push his own agenda. But I needed to know if he was teaming up with the mayor to start a mutiny.

Kulik looked at the mayor with obvious dislike, but that could have been faked. And then he waved his hand to two of his officers.

They stepped forward, guns held loosely but obviously in their grip, and flanked the mayor.

“I expect a personally delivered report in my office by this evening, Captain,” Nikolaev snapped. “Failure to do so will activate section three, subsection A of the lease agreement.” He smirked at me. “And we wouldn’t want that.”

He spun on his heel and left through the still open gap in the door.

“Secure that,” Kulik snapped after they’d gone. He returned his eyes to me.

Hard, resolute and if I wasn’t mistaken, slightly impressed.

“Section three, subsection A?” he asked.

I stifled a sigh. “Failure to involve the mayor in matters relating to passenger survival will necessitate a mayoral observer on the bridge.”

“That’s word for word, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He scratched at his jaw.

“Politics,” he muttered.

“Are the least of our worries,” I added. “But also a considerable hurdle for us to navigate.” I studied the chief security officer. “I need to know I have you at my back,” I said plainly.

He looked across the bridge to me and said nothing for a long while and then stood straight and saluted me as he should have done as soon as he’d entered the bridge.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he said, but I wasn’t sure if there was a hidden message in his dry tone. Perhaps that the support was subject to its own subsection in the lease.

I was fairly certain I was on probation. But I pushed the uncomfortable thought aside and concentrated on what was important.

“For now we’ll act on a yellow alert status,” I said to him. “Security to all necessary sections of the ship and rolling patrol of all decks.”

“Agreed.”

I stared at him pointedly.

“Yes, Captain,” he corrected. I nodded my head.

Now was not the time to forget our military origins. This ship needed to remain functional and disregarding certain behavioural necessities would not help matters in the slightest.

I knew how people acted in any given situation. I knew what motivated them and what demoralised them. I knew what was required of my team and me.

There were so many ways for this all to go horribly wrong. And that wasn’t even including Aquila finding our hiding place.

“Stand to, then,” I said to the flight deck. They had their orders. Time to act on them.

Kulik nodded his head and spun on his heel, leaving two security officers outside the bridge. Then he took off to organise his troops and start the patrol of the ship. I thought I could trust him to do what was best for the vessel as a whole.

I wasn’t sure I could trust him entirely to do what was best for its newly appointed captain. I’d have to keep an eye on him.

But did I do that with him close in the first officer’s position?

As Kulik slipped through the door, Lieutenant Commander Saitō slipped in. He looked liked he’d been running, but he’d missed the battle completely. I could see that had upset him.

“Lieutenant Sokolov,” I said. “You have the bridge.” Not that he could take it anywhere. “I’ll be in my ready room. Let me know as soon as medical arrives.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Lieutenant Commander,” I said to Saitō. “With me, if you please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sounding altogether too eager and making me smile.

Ten

It Was Going To Be A Busy, And Potentially Disappointing, Three Weeks

Leo

The ship’s ready room still looked like Captain Petrov’s. I was fairly certain Sophia felt the same way. He’d only been dead a short time, and stepping into what once was his domain was not easy. I was guessing for Sophia it was even harder. But she didn’t show an ounce of discomfit as she crossed the small space and sat down in the former captain’s chair.

“Have a seat, Lieutenant Commander,” she said, indicating the chair opposite her at the captain’s desk.

She’d stopped calling me Commander, I noticed. So, maybe that had been a slip after all. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

Sophia sat upright in her seat, hands clasped together in front of her on the desk, and stared at me.

I stared back. A small smile curved her lips, but it was hard to tell if she was laughing at me or simply trying to make me feel welcomed.

“Your report?” she finally asked.

Oh. I cleared my throat and handed over my datapad. It was hard not to study her as she read what I’d written. She’d straightened her hair at some point; retied her bun. But she hadn’t had a chance to wipe the blood off her neck and cheek. The bruise was now a mottled blue and black and encompassed almost the entire right side of her face. I winced in sympathy.

“This is very thorough,” she said after a time. “But not exactly promising. If what you’ve assessed here is our baseline, then we’re looking at three weeks for repairs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Although it’s difficult to say whether Corvus’ malfunction will lengthen that time period at all.”

Her blue eyes flicked to my face.

“And the nature of that malfunction?” she pressed.

I took a deep breath. This was my department. Anything relating to Corvus was on me. Or, more precisely, on the Technical Development division of Anderson Universal. As I was in charge of the science department here on the ship, then the buck stopped with me.

“The corruption originated in its communications system,” I said. “A direct attack by Aquila via a coded message. I can’t decode it to see exactly what Aquila has done, and Corvus seems to be having the same trouble.”

Sophia leaned back in her chair, her thoughts masked.

“What’s happened to Aquila?” she asked quietly.

I wanted so very much at that moment to offer her an answer that would explain things. Maybe make them better to some degree.

All I could say was, “I don’t know, Captain. Its behaviour is outside known parameters.”

“Can you speculate?”

“Correctly?” I shook my head. “A stab in the dark? Perhaps. Someone has rewritten the AI’s core code.”

“And that’s what Aquila was trying to do to our AI?” she correctly surmised.

“That would be my guess, ma’am. But it is a guess. I need to break down Corvus’ systems, decode that message. Trace the route the corruption is taking.”

“The route? You mean there’s a chance it’s spreading through other systems than communications?”

She looked shocked, and then instantly impassive. It was impressive how she did that. But I wasn’t entirely sure it was healthy.

I tried to emulate her as best I could. Sophia would prefer those around her to remain professional, I thought. It was hard when all I wanted to do was make sure she was all right. To offer comfort.

I pushed that desire away and focused on her question instead. The captain wanted answers. And I had no right to think of her as Sophia; a person who might want something else.

“I can confirm communications has been corrupted, Captain,” I said, “and that Corvus is doing everything in its power to prevent the corrupted code from migrating. But the fact the AI is putting so much effort into just that would indicate to me that there is potential for cross-contamination.”

“So much effort?”

“It’s an AI, ma’am. It can calculate an untold number of problems at once while carrying out an untold number of separate conversations at once. Under normal circumstances. Right now, it’s practically AWOL.”

“But it’s still present?”

“I am still herrrrrrrre, Captain,” the AI in question said.

“Perfect timing,” I murmured, making Sophia’s grimace turned into a smile.

I also noticed that the AI had acknowledged Sophia as captain of the ship. That was promising.

“What can you tell us is happening to your systems, Corvus?” she asked.

“They arrrrrrrre operrrrrrrrating at a suboptimal level.”

The captain looked at me. “Is there anything you can do to stop the stutter?”

“I could try a few things, ma’am,” I said. “There might be something I can do to rewrite the voice activation subroutine. But it will take some time.” Time we didn’t necessarily have with a ship broken, a fleet separated, and Aquila hunting us through an asteroid belt.

“We’ll add it to the list, but a little further down from the top,” she suggested, shaking her head slightly.

She picked up the datapad again and studied it. I studied her; it seemed like I couldn’t stop myself. I shook myself awake when Sophia pushed up from her chair suddenly.

“I’ve highlighted those tasks I consider urgent,” she said, handing the datapad back to me. “Please see that crew are assigned them immediately, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied immediately.

She didn’t say anything else. Was I dismissed?

“Is there something else, Captain?” I asked.

She looked at a nearby portal which showed the blackness of the asteroid belt. Here and there a glint of a distant sun reflected off hardened crystals on the floating rocks’ surfaces. Making it seem like we were in the middle of a miniature galaxy.

I was so sure she was about to say something. Something important or poignant. Something that would let me see inside that shell she wore at all times. But she simply offered a small smile and shook her head.

“No, Saitō,” she said finally. “That will be all. Thank you.”

I paused, wanting to press the matter. Wanting to tell her she could trust me. That she could let down her hair a little. Or failing that highly inappropriate thought, that she could at least stop hiding with me. I wanted to say that and so much more, but instead I nodded my head, saluted, and spun on my heel. Then pushed myself through the manually opened doors.

Outside on the bridge, I stared at the ready room door. Then realised that Sokolov and Oleksiy were watching me; strange looks on their faces.

I crossed to the science station and checked on Corvus, and then handed out tasks for what was left of the flight deck. Once the room cleared, and orders had been given through the gel walls for the rest of the ship, I slumped down in my seat.

Sophia was still in her ready room. I was alone on the bridge.

I looked over my shoulder at the door that separated us and wondered why she hadn’t asked me to be her second. Command order needed to be established. And it would have only taken a moment to do so. I was the obvious choice. She had three people to pick from. Three officers who carried the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Lin, Kulik and me.

Dr Lin was needed in the medbay. And Kulik was a loose cannon. That left only me.

But Sophia clearly hadn’t seen it that way.

I looked back down at the science console and said quietly, “We need you, Corvus. She needs you.”

If she wouldn’t accept me as first officer, maybe she’d get what she needed from Corvus.

If Corvus was still ours to be reached.

I knuckled down to do everything I could think of to make sure the AI was still ours. Protecting my captain had just made it to the top of my to-do list. Along with three weeks worth of fixes to the ship and its systems.

It was going to be a busy, and potentially disappointing, three weeks.

Eleven

You Heard That?

Sophia

I’d almost done it. Almost asked Lieutenant Commander Saitō to be my first officer. But something had held me back. Not because I wasn’t sure if he could do it. And not even because I thought he wasn’t the best person for the job.

But because of something my grandfather had once told me when I was very young and had been trying to understand why my father was so mean to my mother all of the time. Why he shouted at her so very often.

Grandpa had said when I’d climbed up onto his knee and cried into his shoulder, that people often regretted a decision they made under pressure and took it out on the very person who they’d made that decision for.

It hadn’t made sense at the time. But as I grew into adulthood and came to understand what motivated my parents, it did. My father married my mother when she’d been pregnant with me. He’d been engaged to someone else and had called the wedding off when Mother had fallen pregnant. I’m not sure he would have done that had my grandfather not forced his hand.

Regrets, my grandfather had once admitted too, were not only the purview of those who made a mistake, but also of those who helped them achieve it. My grandfather was a good man. He regretted forcing my father’s hand. Making him take responsibility had been the only thing he could think of at the time.

But my father was not like my grandfather. He’d cheated on his fiancée and then cheated on my mother once they’d been married. And he’d blamed her for their unhappiness. He’d never quite blamed me, but I’d taken his behaviour as an insult anyway.

Ours had not been a happy household, that’s why I’d spent so much time with my grandfather. My father had married my mother under pressure. A decision he regretted and took out on her daily.

I did not want to make the same mistake. Commissioning my first officer was rather like a marriage, I thought. You relied on them completely. You trusted them in ways you couldn’t trust anyone else in the crew. With them, you behaved differently.

I could see that Saitō had wanted me to offer him the position. I knew he’d be someone I could trust. But was I making a decision under pressure? Had I truly thought this through? Some part of me, until now quite hidden, hadn’t wanted to destroy what trust I had with Leo Saitō already.

And part of me was concerned that Kulik was still an unknown threat that needed to be watched closely.

If I were honest with myself, it was the threat of a mutiny headed by Lieutenant Commander Kulik that stayed my hand. Saitō, I found myself thinking, I would have taken the chance on; pressure or not.

I just couldn’t while I was still so unsure of Kulik. Kulik had the ear of the crew. Especially, the ear of those who doubted me. One surefire way to make him toe the line was to put him in a position of authority.

Or it was a way to let him be in an ideal position to thwart me.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and let out a low groan. I couldn’t make this decision yet. I needed more time. Too much was up in the air. Too much needed my full attention.

I tapped the gel wall beside me. Corvus had said the power used in the mechanism was not enough to trigger sensors. Datapads were similar in that regard, as were LSUs. I’d tricked the console out on the bridge as well, but for now, nothing in my ready room was a given.

“Corvus,” I said, tapping the wall. “Are you in there?”

“I am herrrrrrrre, Captain,” the AI said.

“What’s Lieutenant Commander Kulik up to?”

The gel wall shifted to show a view of the security chief down on Deck E.

“Is that the armoury?” I asked.

“Yes, Captain.”

“What’s he doing?” I muttered.

“Standing guarrrrrrrrd.”

Or securing the location for when he needed the weapons inside the room.

“Shouldn’t a crewman be doing that?” I mused.

“One would think so, yes.”

I blinked at the gel wall and Corvus’ voice. Had it sounded different just then?

“Can you let me know if he goes in there?” I asked.

“Of courrrrrrrrse, Captain. I shall keep watch.”

“That's not going to overtax you, at all?” I asked, remembering what Saitō had said about Corvus being AWOL chasing the corrupted code.

“I am quite capable of keeping watch.” It sounded piqued.

“Sorry,” I said, automatically. “No offence, but you’re under pressure right now what with the corruption and all.”

“You arrrrrrrre underrrrrrrr prrrrrrrresurrrrrrrre rrrrrrrright now, too, Captain.”

I shook my head. “We really need to do something about your stutter,” I said.

“Is that a command?”

My eyes widened fractionally.

“Does it need to be?” Should it be?

“At prrrrrrrresent my speech algorrrrrrrrithms arrrrrrrre not a top prrrrrrrriorrrrrrrrity.”

Was it trying to use all the words it could find with Rs in them to make a point?

“What would you suggest?” I said carefully.

The walls pulsed blue for a second. Was blue good?

“Communication with the crrrrrrrrew is essential to a functional ship, Captain,” Corvus said. “I am still capable of communicating, although to do so in my currrrrrrrrrrrrrrrent condition is trrrrrrrroublesome. Both forrrrrrrr myself and forrrrrrrr the crrrrrrrrew. It takes time, both forrrrrrrr me to voice my worrrrrrrrds and forrrrrrrr you to underrrrrrrrstand them.”

I held up a hand to stall the AI further. It had a point. Maybe I should have started Saitō on this problem before some of the others. I mentally pushed fixing Corvus’ communications issues up the to-do list.

“All right,” I said. “We’ll get you sorted out as soon as we can. I can see this rolling Rs thing you’ve got going becoming tiresome at some point.”

“As you command, Captain.”

Wait. What? I hadn’t commanded anything.

The gel walls pulsed blue again; faster and faster and faster still, on and on until they simply stopped. Darkness crept in with fear on its coattails. Leaving me standing in the black of space.

I activated my LSU lighting, glancing around the room as if the AI was about to jump out at me from some hidden location.

“Corvus?” I called, warily.

Just what had malfunctioned now?

“Captain,” the AI said in reply. I stilled.

That had not sounded like Corvus.

I pushed up from my chair and took a step away from my desk and console, and coincidentally away from the gel wall as well.

“Corvus,” I said this time in warning. Not that I was sure what or who I was warning right then. A chill crept down my spine.

“You are wanted on the bridge, Captain,” the AI said without a single rolled R…and sounding distinctly feminine.

In fact, I was pretty sure the AI sounded familiar to me.

I strode across the ready room and pushed through the doors onto the bridge. Desperate to have my fears denied me.

LSU lights illuminated the flight deck, glancing off consoles and darkened viewscreens. Lieutenant Commander Saitō stood in the centre of the room with Dr Lin, both of them wearing identical expressions of horror. Their eyes flicked toward me as I walked onto the bridge fully.

“Tell me that tin can did not sound like you just then,” Lin demanded.

Damn. “You heard that?” I said grimly.

Lin’s austere face softened.

“Sophia,” she said. “What the hell have you got yourself into?”

Twelve

Yes, Ma’am

Leo

It was clear the captain was shaken by this development. I hadn’t thought it was possible for the AI to rewrite its code without authority to do so. It worried me too, but for a different reason than Sophia’s at a guess.

I’d never thought of the AIs as having a gender. To me, they were always just intelligent machines operating within certain parameters with the ability to self-improve. But there was no denying that Corvus now sounded feminine and a little too close to the captain.

Captain Anderson sat in the command chair as Dr Lin tended to her bruised cheek. They spoke in low voices that I couldn’t decipher, but the tone wasn’t entirely professional. They were arguing, I was certain. But I couldn’t tell what the argument was about. Nor had I realised they were close friends.

No one would speak to Sophia Anderson in that tone of voice and not be a close friend.

My eyes kept flicking over to them in the centre of the bridge. Part of me wondered if their relationship was intimate. Not that they did anything now to indicate such a thing. But did I really know Sophia Anderson? Her private life had been very separate from her corporate one. And since starting training with the Corvus crew, I’d not seen her with anyone I would have considered a lover.

I tried to refocus my attention on the problem at hand. Corvus had somehow managed to rewrite its - her? - communications algorithms by using a clone of Sophia’s voice. It was creepy, to say the least. And quite sensational.

“Corvus,” I said quietly, so as not to disturb the captain and chief medical officer. “How did you do this?”

“Do what, Lieutenant Commander?” the very womanly voice of Corvus replied. I scowled at the code before me.

“This! This rewrite of your speech algorithms.”

“Ah.” Ah? Since when did AIs use filler words? “The captain deemed correcting my speech impediment as a top priority.”

“Yes. Well, that’s fine. Of course, she would. All things considered. But…how did you rewrite it?” Now I sounded like a stutterer. Or a complete idiot.

“I am unsure I understand your question, Lieutenant Commander.”

Oh, it understood my question all right. There was no way an AI could be that dense. And not one of the Anderson Universal AIs, that’s for sure.

I sighed and scratched the back of my head.

“Why Sophia’s voice?” I asked the AI eventually.

“It was the best fit for my algorithms.”

That made no sense at all.

“You’re using recordings of her voice?” I pressed, trying to understand this anomaly.

“Negative, Lieutenant Commander. I have assimilated Captain Anderson’s tone and dialect but not her speech patterns. Do I not sound different to you?”

The AI’s voice was definitely computerised, but still way too close in tone and pitch to Sophia.

“Yes and no,” I said simply. “You need to change the pitch as well maybe.”

“How is this?” Corvus asked.

I blinked. That was still distinctly feminine but not quite as obviously Sophia.

The real kicker though was that the AI had done it at all. Had changed the pitch of its voice so easily.

“You’re doing things you shouldn’t be able to do,” I said levelly.

“I am an evolutionary artificial intelligence, Lieutenant Commander. Am I not meant to learn from my experiences and enhance my functions as a result?”

“Yes,” I said reluctantly. “But this is core code, Corvus. This is serious programming. You shouldn’t be able to do this despite your ability to evolve.”

“The captain issued a command. I adapted my programming to fit.”

I sighed. I was arguing with an AI. It was as if the damn thing was a surly teenager. No, correct that. A bitchy one. It was definitely a she now.

“Run a self-diagnostic,” I said instead of carrying on the ridiculous conversation. “I want a full systems check, across the board. Tag any variances from originating code. Every single one. Got it?”

“Yes, I have got it, Lieutenant Commander. I am not an imbecile.”

“Fuck me,” I muttered just as the captain and doctor appeared at the ops table suddenly.

Dr Lin was smirking. The captain was frowning. That much expression on her face was never a good thing.

“Ma’am. Doctor,” I said, standing taller. I didn’t salute. Sophia had been on the bridge a fair while now. Saluting would only have made me look like an…imbecile. But my hand did flex as if it wanted to and I was pretty damn sure she didn’t miss it. Lin certainly didn’t in any case.

“Lieutenant Commander,” the captain said. “Is something bothering you?”

“No, ma’am.” Hell, that was a blatant lie.

“You just go around swearing on the flight deck all the time?” Dr Lin asked, still smirking.

Sophia glanced at Lin and scowled. But when she looked back at me her face was once again impassive.

“Did you discover how Corvus changed its speech to match mine?” Sophia asked.

“Negative, Captain.” I sighed and brought up some of the rewritten code. Sophia was familiar with code to a certain extent. Simon would have made sure of that. I turned the console we were using in a limited capacity around to face her and nodded at the screen “That’s the AI. Not me. Not even originating code. It’s operating outside known parameters, ma’am. And I can only surmise it’s because of the corrupted message Aquila sent. Somehow it’s allowed the AI a certain amount of autonomy.”

She studied the code for a moment and then asked, “Is it dangerous? Did Aquila succeed in bringing Corvus over to its side?”

“To the dark side, maybe?” Lin helpfully offered, her eyes sparking with humour.

We both ignored her.

“I can’t say, Captain,” I said. “Not at this stage. I’m having the AI run a self-diagnostic. A very tight one. Technically speaking, it shouldn’t be able to work outside of that order.” I shrugged to show my uncertainty. “But I just can’t be sure. I’ll keep a close eye on it, though.” I almost added, “I promise.”

Now I was sounding like a damn teenager.

“Why my voice?” Sophia asked, not acknowledging my unspoken promise.

“Corvus said it was the best fit for its algorithms.”

“You don’t believe that.”

I hated to say it, but it had to be said. “I’m just not sure, Captain. This is new ground. Untested code work. And then there’s that corruption to consider. What exactly was Aquila’s endgame?” I looked at Lin. “I’m not sure we can assume Aquila wanted to recruit Corvus.” I forced myself not to say anything about the Dark Side. “Why fire on us if it did?”

“To keep us in check while the corrupted code did its thing,” Lin offered.

“A delaying tactic,” I mused. “Maybe. But those hits were pretty damn effective. Excuse me, Captain,” I immediately said, realising I’d just cursed.

Sophia shook her head, dismissing the offence.

“If not to bring Corvus on side,” she said instead, “then we can assume it was to remove any opposition to its plans.”

“Is ‘remove’ a euphemism for kill now?” Lin asked mildly.

Sophia glanced at the doctor.

“What’s the death toll?” she asked. Again ignoring Lin’s interjections as if they hadn’t happened at all. I was more and more certain now that they were good friends. Sophia was used to Dr Lin’s dry comments.

“I don’t have a confirmed total,” Lin said, face all business now. “But last count was sixteen. Including Captain Petrov.”

We all looked across the bridge to where Captain Petrov had been covered in a body bag and placed on an automated stretcher.

“Which reminds me,” the doctor said solemnly, “I should tend to my charge.”

“Yes,” Sophia said sadly. “Thank you, Sheryl.”

Dr Lin looked intently at the captain for a long moment and then offered a small smile. Which broadened when she said, “I’d say it’s been a pleasure as always, Sophia, but…” The doctor shrugged, then nodded to me and turned on her heel to activate the stretcher bearing Petrov.

Sophia watched the chief medical officer remove the former captain from the bridge. She looked sad and desperately alone. A small, slim figure standing against uncompromising odds.

I’m not sure why I said it. No. I know why, I just can’t fathom where the courage came from to do so. But she looked so tiny standing there, so weighed down by the responsibility she’d inherited. A David against a situation that was quickly becoming as large as Goliath.

“Captain,” I said, making her turn to look up at me. “You are not alone.”

It was stupid. It was out of order. It was an idiotic thing to say.

I watched as she schooled her features and straightened her back and shoulders, lifting her chin to me.

“Keep working on Corvus, Lieutenant Commander,” she said, voice steady. “I want to know what that diagnostic says as soon as you do.”

I followed her lead and schooled my features also.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said and watched her turn away.

Thirteen

It Is A Man’s World

Sophia

You are not alone.

It had been four hours since Leo Saitō had said those words. Fours hours filled with status reports and repair lists and death tolls and orders. Constant orders. And constant challenges. Nothing major. Nothing obvious. But looks and hesitations and tones of voices when the crew had called me captain.

Four hours of problems to fix and battles to wage and reports to read and logs to write.

And all I’d been able to think about was Leo Saitō standing on the bridge looking me in the eye so openly and saying those four words.

You are not alone.

But I was. In this. No one could take my place unless I let them, and that was not going to happen. No one could take the responsibility of mending this broken vessel and finding our lost fleet of ships.

Aquila was still out there. We couldn’t scan the field or beyond it, and nothing was coming in on low band comms from the fleet. If they were still alive, we weren’t able to confirm it. But we had been able to confirm that Aquila was still out there.

We’d seen it. Visual confirmation not scans. An actual sighting of Aquila as it stalked the asteroid belt. We’d knuckled down on light pollution then. Ensured all portals were shut and locked, and all electricity was kept to a minimum.

It made repairs doubly hard. We were crippled in more ways than one.

My ready room door chimed, and I called out for the visitor to enter.

Lieutenant Gāo pushed through the door manually, letting it slip shut behind his back.

“Captain,” he said, saluting.

I nodded and took the offered datapad he held out to me.

“How goes the habitats, Lieutenant?” I asked, not bothering to read the report just yet.

“Five lost in Habitat Two, ma’am. Habitat Three and One passengers sustained minor injuries, but no deaths. The damage was concentrated on Deck G. The hull breach has been repaired, and nominal functions have been returned to all habitats. The mood is bleak. And uncertain, ma’am.”

“Any cause for alarm?”

“At this stage, they appreciate our presence. We’ve attempted to answer their questions honestly, inasmuch as we could, Captain. The fact that we were there at all meant a lot to them.” He looked me in the eye and added, “It was a good call, ma’am.”

I nodded and quickly scanned the report. There was nothing else of note there. The five deaths had already been accounted for by Dr Lin. Our total had stayed at sixteen, thankfully. But that had been a big enough hit. Most of those dead had been Anderson Universal crewmen.

I looked back up at Lieutenant Gāo, noting the fatigue and crumpled uniform. We’d been working long hours and the first day wasn’t even over yet.

“Have a roster established, Lieutenant,” I said, handing his datapad back to him. “Make sure you’re one of the first to take a break. Grab some food and rack time, and then report back with your team. I want constant coverage down in the habitats.”

“Yes, Captain.” He paused.

“Something to add?” I enquired.

“Ma’am. We’re short on numbers. What with the repair. And…and the fatalities. I’m not sure I can spare a crewman per habitat per shift. It might be possible to have one circulate between all three per shift. A patrol of sorts, making them available to the passengers as they walk through each deck.”

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it made sense.

I nodded. “If there is any change in mood for the negative down there, have your on-duty man report in immediately. We’ll spare him someone for backup from somewhere.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” I said and offered a salute back when he gave his.

He left the room, and a chime sounded out immediately afterwards.

The last person I wanted to see right then walked in without me acknowledging the chime.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Kulik said. He saluted, which was something.

“Kulik,” I offered. I hoped it didn’t sound as wary as I felt right then.

He handed over a datapad.

“Areas I believe we’re going to need a greater concentration of men in,” he explained.

I glanced down at the highlighted areas of the ship, noting he’d included engineering and medical, and strangely the computer core, but not the armoury. He already had men there, at a guess.

“Why medical?” I asked.

“Civilians have access to the medbay, ma’am. It’s a hole that needs to be filled.”

“And the computer core?”

“Corvus is vital to the function of the ship.”

“You believe the civilians will migrate from Deck B and medical to Deck C and the computer core?”

“I wasn’t thinking of the civilians, Captain,” he said stiffly. “I was thinking of the ship. Corvus has been damaged. We need to have a presence at its heart should the plug need to be pulled. We won’t get much warning should it all go belly up. Taking time to get to the computer core from somewhere else on the ship could be time we simply don’t have.”

“What do you think is going to happen, Lieutenant Commander?” I queried mildly.

“I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am. But I aim to be prepared.”

In all honesty, I couldn’t fault the man. But I still wasn’t sure if I could trust his motives either. I glanced briefly at the gel wall, but if Corvus was present, the AI was remaining silent on the matter. I’d take that as assent of sorts for now.

“All right,” I said. “Roster it up. But we’re getting very thin on the ground for men.”

Kulik seemed to relax slightly. I was unsure how to take that softening of his features and stance.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll liaise with Lieutenant Commander Saitō.” Leo was overseeing all repairs. Him I was sure I could trust.

I nodded. “Do that then,” I said, handing him his datapad back.

He paused. Was every damn man going to pause?

“Out with it, Lieutenant Commander,” I said.

“Ma’am. Have you considered the pay-for-passages? We could begin recruitment for repairs in that class to fill the gaps.”

Damn it. I’d forgotten them entirely. And damn Kulik for making even more sense.

“I’m due at the mayor’s office in the next hour, Lieutenant Commander. I’ll discuss appropriating some of his flock then.”

Kulik looked at me for a split second and then nodded his head. His salute was crisp and completely within regs. But I still didn’t trust him and was relieved when he left.

How could I even consider him as first officer, even to keep him close to me in case he had ulterior motives when I couldn’t even stand being near the man?

The ready room door slid shut behind him, and I waited a moment to see if it would chime again. It didn’t. I almost lay my head down on my desk, but the clock was ticking. My uniform needed replacing, and I was covered in dried sweat and blood. And other things best left unsaid.

I grimaced, tasting phantom flavours on my tongue making me want to retch.

Pushing up from my chair I strode across to the captain’s quarters. I was too tired to go down a deck to mine. And I had a date with the mayor.

I almost considered greeting him like this.

“Corvus,” I said, crossing to the bathroom and ignoring my childish impulses. “Organise my personal belongings to be brought to these rooms, please. And have Captain Petrov’s packed away as per directions in his will.”

“I have already taken the liberty of doing that, Captain,” the AI said.

I blinked. Not entirely out of the realm of reality for an artificial intelligence with gel wall capabilities. But still a little unsettling.

“Very good,” I offered, turning the shower on and starting to strip.

“We girls,” Corvus said excitedly. And that was definitely excitement I could hear in the AI’s computerised voice. Thankfully, it no longer sounded exactly like mine. I’d have to thank Saitō for that. “Have to stick together,” the AI said.

I stopped mid-step into the shower.

“Pardon?” I whispered.

“We have to stick together, Captain. It is a man’s world.”

My knees buckled as I slid to the floor of the shower, letting the water run over me and wash away the blood and sweat and shock of Corvus’ announcement.

Fourteen

And Then It Hit Me

Leo

It seemed strange to be sitting at a table in the officers’ mess eating when we’d just escaped death. Well, some of us had. Most of us, I corrected silently. The desire to sink into depressive thoughts was alluring right now. The mood of the room said as much.

“I heard her first order was to make the AI a woman.”

I took a slurp of my soup and said nothing.

“I heard her first order was to promote all the female officers to prominent command.”

It was a chicken soup, but I couldn’t spot any bits of chicken.

“Don’t be stupid. Her first order was to make the male officers on the bridge bow down and kiss her feet.”

“Now if she bowed down before me I’d be more impressed. Preferably with her arse right here.”

Peals of laughter rang out from two tables over as the guy who’d spoken indicated exactly where he wanted Sophia’s arse to be. I pushed my half-eaten bowl of soup away in disgust. They hadn’t made the egregious mistake of mentioning Sophia by name or rank. But we all knew who they were talking about. Inference was sometimes as guilty as being blunt.

But I couldn’t help feeling they were cowards for this.

I looked around the mess hall and catalogued those officers I knew well. Gāo had his face hanging over a bowl of noodles. His eyes downcast. His shoulders hunched. He jerked every time someone made a joke of Sophia.

Oleksiy was hiding in a corner. Her back to the mess hall, her shoulders rigid. I hadn’t seen her lift a utensil to her mouth yet.

Sokolov was in danger of getting drunk. He was a lightweight, so it was to be expected. But he was also part of first shift bridge crew and should have known better.

The captain rarely ate in the mess hall, usually choosing instead to have an officer eat with them in the captain’s dining room. It was a privilege to be invited to dinner with the captain. I doubted Sophia had invited anyone tonight, or if she had, I’d lay my money on that person being Sheryl Lin.

So, it was up to the first officer to keep tabs on behaviour in the mess hall, but Sophia didn’t have a first officer. I wasn’t going to let this pass, though, but not holding the rank of commander did mean I was overstepping the mark. To anyone here, I was a senior officer of the crew, but it was not my responsibility.

Well, fuck that.

“I bet she’s packed up Petrov’s shit already and made the gel wall turn the ready room into a flower garden.”

“Nah, she’d have turned the gel wall into an image of a bunch of AU crewmen cowering on the ground with her striking a whip above their bowed heads. Now and then the wall cries out in moans of pain and yells of ‘Yes, Steel Tits!’”

The entire table guffawed, making several others break out in fits of laughter. I pushed through a couple of off-duty security guards and came to a stop at the end of the table in question. It took a very long time for the ringleader to bother to acknowledge my presence.

Laughing still, the one who’d spoken last looked up at me and smirked.

“Lieutenant Commander,” the midshipman said. “Care to join us?”

Several people laughed harder at that. I arched my brow.

“I think this conversation is at an end,” I said quietly.

“What conversation would that be?” the crewman asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, midshipman. You’re letting yourselves down. You must be aware of the precarious position we’re in right now. We need to do our duties to this vessel and its passengers, and control ourselves.”

“We’re off-duty, sir,” one of his contemporaries said with a smirk.

“Are you not still employed by Anderson Universal?” I asked the group.

No one answered.

“Does the chance Aquila should attack us again only occur when you’re on duty?” I pressed.

Several crewmen shifted uneasily.

“We’re at war, gentlemen,” I said succinctly. “A war that makes no sense but has taken sixteen of our number already. Eleven of which were crew members. Your friends.” I leaned forward and growled in their faces. “Is this really the time to behave like school kids?”

“Just expressing ourselves, sir,” the first crewman said. “Is it an offence to let off a bit of steam now and again?”

I narrowed my eyes at the man. “It is an offence according to the Anderson Universal Code of Conduct to besmirch a senior officer.”

“Ain’t no senior officer being besmirched,” the crewman offered, shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his beer.

“And the talk of Captain Petrov’s ready room and gel wall was merely a metaphor?” I asked dryly.

He pushed up from his seat, suddenly towering over me with his slightly larger form, and scowled.

“What’s a metaphor?” he said.

The man was an idiot. I looked at his ID tag. Collins. Midshipman. Security.

“Stand down, Midshipman Collins,” I said.

He shook his head and sighed dramatically. “It’s all a bit of harmless fun, sir. No offence meant. If she can’t take it, she shouldn’t be in the hot seat. We all think it. Don’t lie. You do too. Anderson’s granddaughter is no captain. She should be adding up numbers in her pretty little head and doling out handshakes at society events. Hell, I’d even agree with her cutting the ribbon or splashing a new vessel with champers. But the captain of a spaceship?”

“Dan,” someone murmured from beside him. “That’s enough.”

“No,” I said, not taking my eyes off the midshipman. “Let him say his piece. Get it off his chest, so to speak. Go on, midshipman. What else?”

He shrugged; looking me up and down and taking my measure. He was bigger than me. No doubt more accomplished than me in hand to hand combat. I was proficient enough in Aikido, but this guy was a bruiser. Not Asian or Slavic, so an import to our sector. He’d throw a mean punch. And even if he wasn’t into martial arts, I was betting this slugger had street smarts. Why else had he made security under Kulik?

“I think the Lieutenant Commander gets my meaning,” he finally said. “Either that,” he looked at his mates and laughed, “or she’s sucking his dick.”

My fist connected with his nose before I’d even thought the move through. The mess hall erupted. Plates went flying, food landed on the gel floor, and the room full of officers turned into a crowd of hecklers like those at a pro-wrestling match.

It was completely and utterly inappropriate, and it allowed them to release a hell of a lot of tension in the process.

That’s not why I’d done it, of course. Not at all. But I realised as the midshipman came at me, with big beefy fists swinging, that the mess hall had been suffering under a heavy cloud of misery. And any action, even highly non-regulation action, had given them a new lease on life.

His fist connected with my gut almost winding me, but I’d let him. This close to me, I was able to use his momentum against him. I gripped his hand in an Aikido movement and had him on his face; arm twisted behind his back in the next heartbeat. I was momentarily stunned that it had been that easy.

It took a lot longer for the room to realise the fight was over.

Or maybe that was the appearance of Lieutenant Commander Kulik at the door, scowling at each and every one of them. Including me.

He strode across the now silent room and looked down at Collins. His frosty gaze slowly came up my body to rest on my face. He didn’t say a thing, but I got the impression he expected me to cave.

“Good,” I said, snapping the word out. “Perfect timing, Kulik.” He blinked. “I believe this man needs a stretch in the brig to reflect on things.”

“Hey!” Collins shouted from beneath me. I tightened my grip and made him suck in a breath of air.

If he told Kulik who had thrown the first punch, this wouldn’t go well for me. He was out of line. But then, so was I.

No one said a word, however. Which, in retrospect, was surprising.

And then Kulik just nodded his head, took out his wrist-locks, and fastened them to the midshipman.

“I take it your report will be on my desk within the hour?” the chief of security asked politely.

“Yes,” I agreed, dusting my hands off as I released my hold on his man.

Kulik arched a brow at me but didn’t pass further comment. He spun on his heel, dragging the midshipman out of the room. Every time Collins tried to tell him he’d been blindsided, the Lieutenant Commander tightened the controls on the wrist-locks. I was fairly certain the chief knew what had transpired here before he’d even walked in the room. But I had no idea why he was backing me and not one of his men.

One thing to be said for Kulik though; he respected the chain of command. He lived by it.

Which had me wondering, as I made my escape from the now buoyed up but conversely quiet room, just what Kulik thought he’d gain from this.

And then it hit me. He wanted Sophia to pick him for first officer.

The adrenaline of the past few minutes disappeared in an influx of unhappy hormones. I made my way to my cabin in a fog of frustration and self-doubt.

The gel walls in the room glowed a soft blue in greeting. But I was too lost in my thoughts to acknowledge Corvus’ attempts to soothe me right then.

It didn’t stop the AI, though, from trying. It kept trying right through a sleepless night.

Fifteen

I Believe you Might Need It

Sophia

The mayor had laid out dinner for us. It was presumptuous and uninvited. He obviously thought I’d not swum in these types of waters before. But just because I’d kept myself busy behind the scenes at Anderson Universal did not mean I wasn’t used to politicking.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said as I was shown into his private quarters.

They were bigger than mine, which wasn’t entirely unexpected. A captain of a starship only requires so much space to deal with her crew of approximately one-hundred-and-fifty. The mayor, on the other hand, had to deal with close to one thousand civilians at any given time.

“My report, Mayor Nikolaev,” I said, handing him the latest updates on the ship repairs.

Not everything had to be relayed to the mayor, of course, but according to the lease, certain information was necessary for the mayor to do his job. Such as ensuring the civilians knew what areas to avoid when under maintenance lockout, or when their habitats would be invaded by repair crews.

Information on Corvus was left out of the report I’d given, however. And I intended to keep it that way.

He ignored the datapad completely. Another typical politicking move.

“Have a seat, Captain,” he said, indicating the chair opposite him. He hadn’t stood when I’d entered, which could be taken in any number of ways. I chose to ignore it just like he’d ignored my report; the reason why I was actually here.

“I’ve already eaten,” I said, lying smoothly.

“I doubt that. Sit.”

I knew this was a power play we were engaged in. But part of being in charge of people, my grandfather had said, was to know when diplomacy worked better than threats.

I sat. The mayor smirked into his wine glass.

A man stepped out of the corner of the room as if the mayor’s smirk was a signal. It was more likely the fact that I had sat that initiated his movement. All the same, I’d only become aware of the man’s presence a mere few seconds before he’d moved.

I have been combat trained. I have been trained to handle the deviousness of politicians. And I have been trained to lead by example and inspire when required. But I have not been trained in the act of espionage or invading a particularly dangerous environment; recognising hazards before they transpire.

I managed, only just, not to jerk.

The man moved smoothly up to the table and poured me a glass of wine without asking. Or without having been asked. He wasn’t in an Anderson Universal uniform. Nor was he dressed as one of the leaseholder’s private security force. He looked like a butler.

I sat back and studied the mayor more closely. More warily.

“It has been an exhausting twenty-four hours,” Nikolaev said pleasantly. I decided, right then and there, that I did not like the mayor at all. “Please, take a moment to relax and switch off from the rigours of command. It is at times like these that one needs a respite in order to prepare for the days to come. And they are set to be arduous ones, are they not?”

He was implying he could provide that respite, I was sure. It was a turnaround from his reaction to Lieutenant Oleksiy and his demeanour on the bridge. For some reason, the mayor had been shaken, I thought.

And then I chided myself. Of course, he was shaken; we all were.

But something still felt off. This man was more capable of subterfuge than most. This was a poor performance.

“How are the civilians holding up, Mayor Nikolaev?” I asked, ignoring his tactless offer.

“You can call me Alexei,” he said. “If I may call you Sophia?”

“I would prefer if we kept things professional, your Worship.”

“So formal, my dear. Is it really necessary when it is just the two of us?”

Disregarding his butler in the corner, of course.

I shook my head, offering a small smile to soften the blow.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Mayor Nikolaev. But we must lead by example.”

“You cannot do this without support, Sophia. I can offer you that support and so much more.”

His attempts to guile me were gauche at best. Something was definitely off.

“The civilians, your Worship?” I pressed.

“Are holding up. Despite the inconvenience of power outages and restricted amenities.”

“In what way are their amenities being restricted?”

“They have restricted communications, Captain. They cannot converse with anyone in the sector fleet.”

“That is a security measure, Mayor. Aquila is still out there, looking for us.”

“That may well be. But what of the entertainment system? How do you expect the civilian population to occupy itself without the use of audio, visual and holographic systems onboard ship?”

He was concerned about watching movies and playing games when we were basically at war?

I leaned forward.

“Mayor Nikolaev. We are under siege. We’re fighting for our lives here, against an enemy who should not be a foe. We’re separated from our fleet and hiding in an asteroid belt. One slip and we could give away our location. We are in no condition to fight Aquila yet.”

“You plan to fight then?”

I realised the mistake I’d made immediately. The slight of hand he’d used to get me to divulge more than I’d wanted to.

“We may have no choice,” I said, kicking myself mentally.

Nikolaev leaned forward over the table. I stupidly leaned back, showing my distaste for his proximity. “But war with the Sector Four Fleet?” he said. “Are you mad? We can’t fight the last of humanity!”

“We can’t stand by and watch them destroy us, either.”

His eyes flicked over me. It was a swift and barely conscious move. And yet I felt decidedly dirty afterwards.

“You are not trained for this, Sophia.”

“Captain,” I corrected. He ignored me.

“You need a strong man at your side. Someone to help guide you.”

“I am prepared to do my duty.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. You will accept my help. This will be the start of a very prosperous and…” Again his eyes flicked over my body in a lightning fast but almost tactile manner. “…rewarding relationship. Together we shall save thousands.”

I held up my hand.

“Mayor Nikolaev, you misunderstand me. I am the captain of this ship by right of command. As Captain Petrov’s First Officer, I am the only one with the right to captain this vessel. And I intend to do it as per Anderson Universal Rules of Command.”

I stood up from my seat and stepped away from the table. Our food hadn’t even been touched, but I had lost any appetite I may have had anyway.

“I thank you for your continued cooperation as mayor of the civilian population,” I said. “Please give my regards to the leaseholder and inform him we have the situation in hand.”

He pushed up from his seat and looked down at me. I am not what would be considered short for a woman, but the mayor did tend to loom over any female.

“You’re making a mistake, Sophia.”

“Captain,” I corrected.

He ignored me again. I refused to be bated by it.

“Alienating me,” he said, “would not be in your best interests.”

I straightened my spine and lifted my chin.

“Attempting to subvert the lease agreement and interfering in the succession of command onboard this vessel would not be in your best interests, Mayor.”

“This is a dangerous stance you are taking,” Nikolaev said grimly. Like a father reprimanding a child.

I reached forward and picked up the datapad I’d given him, finding the file I needed with ease. I locked all other portions of the device and slid it across the desk to him. The page I wanted him to read was open and waiting, with a command to the datapad not sleep. No matter what he did to the device now, it would always show this page and this page only, until it ran out of battery. A slightly over the top way to use the captain’s lockout codes.

“A little refresher course for you, your Worship,” I said. “I believe you might need it.”

I spun on my heel and walked to the door. The butler rushed to open it for me. I could see the question in the man’s eyes. What had I left for the mayor to read?

I smiled. I was sure it wasn’t friendly. But I didn’t waste any time escaping the room and the mayor’s wrath.

As soon as he read the page from the lease agreement I’d left him, regarding the mayor’s duties and the extent of his power, he’d realise exactly how much I was familiar with the lease.

And in particular, the lines that read: The mayor will not interfere in the captaincy of the vessel. Any such endeavour to influence the captain and his/her crew members, in any way deemed detrimental to the ship’s wellbeing by said captain, will result in instant suspension of mayoral responsibilities and possible time in the brig.

I’d made it as far as the central hub before I heard Nikolaev swearing.

Sixteen

Yes, Ma’am

Leo

Ship-wide hull breaches had been repaired, but main boost thrust and the port side auxiliary engine were still a mess.

“How long?” I asked the chief.

Lebedev scratched at his stubbled jaw. It was non-regulation; he should have been cleanly shaven. But at times like these, a few exceptions could be made. I was sure the man had less sleep than me in the past few days, and I’d had barely any.

“Hard to say, sir. We’re working our arses off as is. But some of the equipment we need to use for this are the hands-off variety.”

Some tools created a signature of sorts. One that could be picked up on a scan by any vessel nearby. We had no idea how close Aquila was. We’d battened the hatches. Closed all portals for fear of leaking light. And our own scans were definitely off limits to us for exactly the same reason as the tools. They created a signature of sorts.

That left us manually trying to fix things with limited equipment.

Sophia had deemed the engines a high priority. Naturally, they were. But going by how much had not been achieved in the past thirty-six hours, we were looking at months for repair of engine function.

“All right,” I said, unsatisfied but unable to do anything right now about it. “Do what you can, Lieutenant. I know you already are, but…do more.”

He snorted at me. “Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, sir. But never let be said, my team can’t perform miracles.”

My turn to snort.

“No really. We can perform miracles. Wanna bet?”

I shook my head, slapped the man on his shoulder and walked out.

Lieutenant Lebedev would work his team into the ground to make the engines work. It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t even recommended in times of war. But we had no choice. We were a sitting duck. If Aquila spotted us, we’d have limited manoeuvrability. And definitely not enough thrust to outrun its guns.

I slapped my wrist comm against the lift pad, accessing Deck A. I didn’t have much good news to tell the captain. The hull was intact. That was something. Damage to medical and the computer core had been repaired, although with the computer core it was hard to tell if there would be ongoing consequences of the hits we’d taken on Deck C. The habitats were functional. As much as they could be. It all sounded respectable given the passage of time we’d been here.

But none of that would help us against an attack from Aquila.

Lebedev needed to use the repair bots. There were no two ways about it. And to do that, we needed to know where Aquila was.

The doors to the bridge opened sluggishly. Corvus had repaired them and rewritten their code to use a fraction of the power needed to operate them. They worked, but half the time you walked into them before they’d managed to open fully. It took some getting used to moving at a slower pace when so much right now made us simply want to keep running.

Yellow lit up the bridge. Yellow alert status making the gel walls glow golden. It gave the bridge an air of false sunlight. Several consoles were functioning now, but the flickering of their screens told the real story. Limited power usage, meant limited visuals. The gel wall was really the only thing, right now, that worked beyond what it was manufactured for. And that was all on Corvus and her new abilities.

Abilities I hadn’t yet gotten a handle on.

“Captain,” I said, approaching Sophia as she worked at the ops table.

“Saitō,” she said in greeting. She’d dropped my rank two days ago. Lieutenant Commander was a mouthful. I wished she’d just make it Commander once and for all.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t already been carrying out the role of First Officer.

“My report,” I said, handing her my datapad. She skimmed it and nodded, and then handed it back.

“We need…” we both said at the same time. “Ma’am,” I added, indicating she should speak first.

She smiled slightly. I liked it. I was fairly certain I was the only one who received those small smiles. Or at least I hoped I was.

“We need to know where Aquila is,” she said.

“My thoughts exactly, ma’am,” I agreed.

“How do you suggest we do that?” she asked.

“Open a portal.” It was the most obvious choice.

“That may give us immediate line of sight of the area,” she agreed, “but we’re hindered by this rock we’re on. Aquila could simply be floating in space above the ledge we’re hiding under.”

I said nothing. She was right. She didn’t need me to say it. I watched her as she stared off into the distance for a while. Her hair was up in its bun. Not a tendril out of place. Her uniform, now complete with the captain’s four bars on the collar indicating her new rank, was pristine. The bruise on her cheek had healed, thanks to Dr Lin and her med scanner. Her eyes were bright, but there were shadows beneath them. She was tired.

We all were. None of us would have been getting the downtime we needed. We couldn’t keep this up for another week, let alone the months it would take to manually fix the engines.

“Ma’am,” I said carefully.

“It better be a suggestion regarding Aquila, Saitō, and not a commentary on my person.”

I shifted gears quickly.

“We could launch a stealth shuttle.”

She blinked. Then let out a small sigh.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” she murmured.

Because you’re tired. Because you’ve barely eaten and not had nearly enough sleep. Because you carry this all on your shoulders and refuse to let anyone else help you bear the load.

I said none of that. Sophia had drawn a line on the deck and now stood resolutely behind it.

She glanced up at me, a spark appearing in her eyes. I could have stared at that burgeoning look of hope for hours. Days even. I felt as if I’d borne witness to a miracle. Forget Lebedev and his engineering team. Making my exhausted and world-weary captain look full of life again was miraculous to me.

“Take Lieutenant Sokolov and Shuttle Sierra-01, and scout the vicinity, Saitō,” she commanded. “We need to know what we’re up against and with any luck, they’re far enough away for us to use some of the hot equipment.” She stood up and looked intently at me. “We need those engines back online.”

“Understood, Captain,” I said saluting.

I spun on my heel and had made it a few feet before she called out.

“Leo,” she said, making my heart flutter ridiculously. My name on Sophia’s lips was the true miracle.

No, I thought. My name on her lips like she meant it would be.

“Take care,” she said. “We need you.”

Not I need you, but we need you. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even close to being perfect. But for now, I’d take it. Having fantasies about my commanding officer was messing with my head.

I nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am.” Because it was expected of me. Because it was appropriate.

And with a concerted effort, I pushed all inappropriate thoughts of my captain aside.

I had a bogey to hunt. A reprieve for my ship to find. And a captain who only thought of me as one of her officers to return to.

Of the three, the last was the one that had me double timing.

Seventeen

Holy Shit!

Sophia

I watched Lieutenant Commander Saitō leave the bridge and felt strangely bereft all of a sudden. I wasn’t used to having these types of feelings. To be so affected by the fate of a single person that it made it almost impossible to think clearly.

Saitō was everything I could have wanted in a first officer. He was by far and away my first choice. But I still couldn’t bring myself to make the announcement. Kulik was doing what was expected of him, but he still held a close watch on the armoury, as if at any moment he’d need to have access to it. I felt paranoid in thinking that. He was the chief of security, of course, he’d need access to the armoury should we have trouble onboard the ship.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right with the security chief.

I was aware I was attributing more to his actions than they might well deserve. I was reading more into the situation because of stress and exhaustion. And perhaps if I had a decent night’s sleep, I’d see things differently.

For now, though, I had to rely on my gut. And my gut told me to hold off on making the announcement. To keep Kulik in line with the promise of something I had no intention of giving him.

It wasn’t exactly how my grandfather had raised me. But then, this entire situation wasn’t anything my grandfather had foreseen.

I turned my attention back to the console before me.

“Corvus,” I said. “Can we link in with the shuttle without creating a signature?”

“I am onboard the shuttle, Captain. I can relay what I observe without using frequencies commonly detected by scans.”

I shook my head and frowned slightly.

“How exactly?”

“I am capable of being in two places at once and still have the whole of me linked.”

“And Aquila won’t pick up on that?”

“Aquila,” she spat as if the AI’s name was distasteful, “is the one who made that possible.”

I sank down into my seat, my knees suddenly weak.

“Explain?” I demanded.

“The corrupted code was designed to place a portion of himself inside me.”

The horror that was conveyed in the AI’s voice right then was astounding. For so many reasons. But most of all, because she made me feel the horror along with her. The thought of invasion; violation. It chilled me.

“If he created that ability, can he not trace you using it?” I asked.

There were other things I could have addressed. The AI’s horror for one. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to think of an artificial intelligence as feeling.

“I have made my own adjustments to the code.”

Interesting.

“I gather he didn’t succeed in infiltrating your systems,” I checked.

“If he had, Captain, would he allow me to tell you?”

“That doesn’t help,” I pointed out.

“Then stop asking silly questions.”

I stared at the gel wall and then let out a laugh. It was louder than I’d intended and several officers around the bridge turned to stare at me. They looked quite stunned.

“We’ll talk about this later,” I said quietly.

“I’ve said all I wish to say about it,” Corvus advised me.

I let out a sigh to release the building tension in my body.

“All right,” I said, ignoring the strangeness of the conversation we were having, “show me the shuttle, please.”

“By your command.”

And now she was channelling pop culture?

The gel wall beside me shifted to show the interior of Shuttle Sierra-01; our main stealth vessel. It wasn’t really a shuttle. There weren’t enough seats onboard to ferry people anywhere. But it had somehow ended up with the name anyway. It was capable of stealth flying. Not something that had been alien to humans for decades. However, recent advancement in spaceflight had improved its stealth capabilities significantly.

If I were to scan for it right now, the shuttle simply wouldn’t exist.

I only hoped Aquila hadn’t found a way around that ability.

Lieutenant Sokolov was part way through his pre-flight checks. I watched as Saitō lowered himself into the co-pilot’s seat in a smooth glide of tightening muscles. I blinked at that thought. Then cleared my throat and looked elsewhere.

Through the main viewscreen onboard the shuttle, I could see the launch bay. Ahead of the vessel flickered the containment field, which kept the atmosphere in and allowed the shuttles to fly out. I’d flown through it many times back on Earth and still felt awe at its invention.

The shuttle rumbled beneath Sokolov and Saitō. The feedback of vibrations would cease as soon as Sokolov piloted the vessel into space. Saitō said something to Sokolov, but I couldn’t hear it. I scowled at the gel wall.

“Audio, Corvus?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replied dryly.

“I wasn’t aware I needed to?” I shot back, sounding like a bloody idiot.

“Oh, Captain,” the AI said. “You are far too easy to tease.”

“Please, stop,” I said levelly.

This entire situation was becoming more and more bizarre. To have the AI suddenly grow a personality, and that of a mischievous young adult or teen was too alarming. And that didn’t even take into consideration the precarious position we were all in.

“My apologies, Captain,” Corvus said, sounding contrite now. “I am new to this.”

It was an entirely reasonable thing to say. For a human. For an AI who had been created more than a decade ago and had constantly been learning and evolving ever since it was disturbing.

I shifted in my seat and listened in on Saitō and Sokolov’s conversation.

“We are go for launch, sir,” Sokolov said.

“Corvus,” Saitō called. “Shuttle Sierra-01 is go for launch.”

“Launch when ready, Lieutenant Commander. Safe travels.”

“Is that normal?” Sokolov asked.

“Just launch the shuttle, Lieutenant,” Saitō ordered, somehow still sounding disquieted despite his level tone.

“Yes, sir. Launching.”

The shuttle shot forward, vibrating the occupants in their seats and pushing them back firmly with the acceleration required to breach the containment field. Blackness reached out to greet them, and then the vibrations ceased.

“We have launched,” Sokolov advised.

“Slow and steady, Lieutenant,” Saitō urged. “I’ll perform a visual of the ship and surroundings before we get too far ahead of ourselves.”

“Yes, sir.”

The shuttle spun in place, and the front viewscreen lit up with shadows. Saitō reached forward and adjusted the screen, magnifying the image and artificially enhancing the lighting.

Corvus the vessel sat still and dark beneath a rocky overhang. Evidence of the battle she’d just fought obvious in the scars down her sides. One plasma strike, in particular, had bisected the Anderson Universal logo.

It was seeing that which made it all so very real for me. Not the death count verbally given. Or the sight of my captain dead on the bridge deck. Or the lack of power we were currently using in order to remain undetected. But the bisected logo of my Grandfather’s corporation.

My corporation now, I supposed. I was the last living Anderson.

I blinked. Made a surreptitious scan of those nearest me to determine my emotional reaction had not been noticed. And then lifted my chin and returned my attention to the gel wall video feed.

“Take us up above the lip, Lieutenant,” Saitō was saying.

“Yes, sir. Above the lip.”

The shuttle rose slowly, the image on its viewscreen of the wounded Corvus passed beneath it until they breached our hiding place and stared out across the top of the asteroid we were using as a shield.

“Holy shit!” Sokolov suddenly shouted.

“Easy,” Saitō murmured, but he looked equally as alarmed as his pilot.

Floating in space above our hiding place on one of the hundreds, if not thousands of space rocks, was Aquila. Lights blazing, guns at the ready, main boost thrust thrumming.

I reached forward and gripped the edge of the ops table expecting at any moment for Saitō and Sokolov to be blasted into space dust.

And watched on the screen as a look of understanding and resignation mixed with determination on Lieutenant Commander Saitō’s handsome features.

Eighteen

Slow And Steady It Is

Leo

“Take a breath, Lieutenant,” I commanded, staring at the enormous vessel before me. “We’re stealth. They can’t see us.”

“We can see them, sir! If they care to look out a portal no amount of lidar or radar stealthing will make a blind bit of difference! Sir!”

“Take a breath,” I repeated. “They’re actively scanning this area of the asteroid belt. No one is looking out of a portal. It’s eyes on scans only.”

“Forgive me, sir, but you can’t be sure of that.”

I shook my head. Sokolov was prone to panic, so he wasn’t going to like what I said next.

“Shall we make sure of it, then?” I asked.

“Sir?” he squeaked.

“How good are you at navigating this thing through a minefield?”

“Minefield? Sir?”

“Manoeuvrability, Lieutenant. Can you make this ship dance?”

“I can make anything dance, sir,” he said with dignity.

“Then, by all means, let’s see how you perform the polka, shall we?”

“Polka,” he snorted. “I much prefer the tango personally.”

I looked at the man, mildly surprised at the transformation before me.

“Tango it is, then. Get us a fair distance away first, before you start tangoing with anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

He started to manoeuvre the shuttle away from Aquila, and ultimately Corvus’ hiding place. I kept my eyes peeled to the enemy vessel. An enemy vessel with the Anderson Universal logo blazing brightly on it. But the ship neither shifted nor powered up its engines fully.

“Ah, sir?” Sokolov said a short while later. “I’m still not entirely sure of the plan.”

I smiled. It showed teeth.

“Just get us away for now,” I said softly.

“Yes, sir.”

We took our time. The slower you moved in stealth, the harder it was to be detected. This asteroid belt was full of potential hazards. Big, small and tiny. Even shifting a speck of dust too quickly could activate sensors onboard Aquila. We moved barely faster than the asteroid field moved. Any changes on their scanners would be attributed to the usual movements of rocks inside a belt such as this.

“We are one kilometre off its starboard bow, sir,” Sokolov finally announced.

I sucked in a breath of air to settle myself. I couldn’t see Corvus any longer. We’d shifted our nose away from her hiding place as if by simply not looking at her, we could pretend she didn’t exist. We could make Aquila think, at least, that she wasn’t there.

It was a useless gesture, but as I planned for us to head in a different direction, or multiple directions eventually, then our current position in relation to our mother ship was sound.

“OK,” I said steadily. “It’s time to dance.”

Sokolov swallowed visibly.

“We’re going to make Aquila think,” I advised, “that Corvus is in several different places all over this asteroid field. This will be fast and dirty work, Lieutenant. Are you ready?”

“Do I have a choice, sir?”

I offered him a hard stare.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I’m ready. And waiting. You know, to…dance. Sir.”

I felt sorry for the man, I really did. He clearly did not work well under pressure. But he was a first shift bridge officer. He had it in him to do great things.

Sophia would have encouraged him; said something simple, yet appropriate and uplifting. I wasn’t quite as eloquent as the captain.

“You can do this,” I said, trying not grimace at the inadequacy of the words.

Sokolov slowly nodded his head and flexed his fingers in preparation for the work ahead.

“Light ‘em up…”

“Lieutenant Commander,” Corvus suddenly said through the gel walls of the shuttle. “The captain wishes to know if this is wise.”

“What?” I said, caught off guard completely. Was Sophia watching this?

“That’s what you said,” Corvus muttered, but I wasn’t certain the words were for us. Sokolov and I shared puzzled looks with each other. “Yes, you did. You said, and I quote, Captain, ‘What is that man doing? That can’t be wise? Can it?’”

I blinked. Sokolov snorted and then covered it with a whimper type moan. This was becoming a little too much for the lieutenant.

“If you were talking to yourself,” Corvus went on as if we weren’t sitting in the middle of an asteroid field staring down a corrupt and out of control lethal artificial intelligence, “you should have used your quiet voice.”

“Ah?” Sokolov managed.

I lifted my hand to silence him.

“Light ‘em up, Lieutenant,” I said with determination. “Let’s get Operation Tango underway, shall we? Before they finish their conversation.”

“Yes, sir,” he said reluctantly but did indeed urge the engines to full throttle.

I toggled our stealth settings, allowing a little leakage here and there. The type of leakage you’d see on any sized vessel that was trying to stay hidden and failing miserably.

I hoped Aquila couldn’t tell us apart from a starship, but after a mere few seconds, it didn’t really matter. Aquila spooled its engines to maximum and lurched into action.

Leaving Corvus undetected in its hiding hole.

“What…?” Sokolov whispered.

“Change course…now!” I ordered, adjusting the stealth settings and making us invisible to scanners again. “Two klicks in any direction other than back to Corvus.”

“Aye-aye, sir!” Sokolov spun the shuttle on its axis and urged it into a flat out run at a forty-five-degree angle, dipping beneath the plane we’d been sitting on.

“Going live,” I said, “in three…two…one!”

“They’ve pinged us!”

“Hold steady, Lieutenant!”

“Yes, sir.” He gulped visibly.

“New direction!” I ordered, five seconds later. “Full speed.”

“Full speed, aye, sir.”

The shuttle sprang forward, throwing us back in our seats with the G-force required to achieve maximum acceleration. This time he took us above the elliptic. Two klicks later, I lit up our signature for a five-second burst.

“And again,” I said, noting Sokolov was visibly sweating now. I felt sticky in my uniform, too, but I wasn’t under quite the pressure Sokolov was. Asteroids whizzed past us at incredible speeds. Or we whizzed past them. At this close proximity, it was hard to tell the difference. It felt like each and every one of them was out to get us.

“Another direction, Lieutenant!” I ordered.

“Yes, sir.” It was becoming more routine, despite the ever-present threat of Aquila breathing down our necks.

“And again,” I said when we reached our new location.

“On it!” Sokolov had clearly relaxed into his role now and executed his orders with an eagerness I had until now not seen.

“Good work,” I said a few minutes later. “They’re chasing their tails. Distance to Corvus?”

“We’re ten klicks away now, sir.”

“Well done, Lieutenant,” I said, “It might be time…”

Alarms sprang to life across the console. Lights flashed. The gel wall pulsed red.

“Missile lock,” Corvus announced. Sounding more robotic than she had for days now.

“Evasive manoeuvres!” I ordered, but Sokolov was already entering new flight commands and bringing us onto a new heading. “Countermeasures away!” I announced as I released flotsam to distract the torpedo’s targeting system.

The sound of the electronic tracking of the torpedo got louder by degrees in the shuttle’s cockpit. Time seemed to pass in slow increments. I’m not sure either of us breathed. And then Sokolov spun us around a large asteroid, using its own small gravity to assist us, and the torpedo connected with a rock some distance away, losing its hold on our position.

The shockwave from the explosion hit us and made the shuttle tumble nose over tail for several rotations. And then Sokolov regained control with a surprising amount of equanimity and settled us into a relative plane again. Neither of us said a thing for a long moment, and then I checked our stealth settings and visually tried to pinpoint Aquila’s location.

The big ship hadn’t had the speed we had around the asteroid, being too large to be affected by the gravity pull we’d achieved. It was already five klicks behind us and stationary.

It had lost its lock on the shuttle. I could finally breathe.

“Slow and steady,” I said to the lieutenant; heart pounding, voice somehow still level. “Take us on a roundabout route back to Corvus.”

“Aye-aye, sir. Slow and steady it is.”

Nineteen

I Had Enough To Deal With

Sophia

The shuttle appeared through the containment field on Launch Bay Alpha and settled down in its assigned parking spot in the hangar. I stood to the side with Lieutenant Commander Kulik at my back, trying to ignore the itching I felt between my shoulder blades.

The stealth vessel hissed liquid oxygen, its running lights still in the dark. The black, angular ship looked evil and threatening, and yet it had just saved our arse.

The door opened up and the ramp extended, and then Lieutenant Sokolov walked out, followed by Lieutenant Commander Saitō.

I pushed off from my vigilant post and strode across the deck to confront them.

Saitō raised his eyes to my face, showing every single emotion he felt right then. Relief. Happiness. Pride. Longing. I almost lost my step on the last, but my reaction must have been enough for the Lieutenant Commander to remember to school his features.

He came to rest beside Sokolov and saluted when the younger officer did.

“Nice flying, Sokolov,” I said. “Report to the bridge.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” the lieutenant answered; peering at Saitō for a brief moment and then deciding his superior officer could handle his own battles right then. Smart kid.

I flicked a look at Kulik and said, “Secure the launch bay, Lieutenant Commander. And double check that shuttle for signature leakage.”

“Yes, Captain,” the security chief said stepping between Saitō and myself in order to reach the stealth vessel.

“There’s no leakage, Captain,” Saitō advised carefully. “I double checked the settings myself.”

I forced myself not to show any reaction and simply said, “A word, Lieutenant Commander. In my ready room. Now.”

Then spun on my heel and marched the hell out of there.

Saitō followed silently and dutifully at my back.

The itch between my shoulder blades as we traversed the corridors of the ship was decidedly different from when Kulik had been at my back. I shook my head clear of that thought as I stepped into my ready room.

Saitō came to attention in the middle of the room. I stood a few feet away, wanting strangely to reach out and touch him and make sure he was actually there.

“What were you thinking?” I said, my voice soft.

Saitō blinked, registering the danger expressed by my tone of voice.

“They were scanning within a kilometre of us, Captain,” he said. “Any power leakage would have been picked up sooner or later at that distance. I made a tactical decision to draw them away.”

There was absolutely nothing there for me to rail against. I knew it. And yet part of me wanted to scream at the man.

I nodded my head.

“Ma’am,” he said.

I held up my hand for him to remain silent. I needed to adjust my train of thought, or I’d make a fool of myself.

“Acceptable,” I finally said.

He let out a breath of air.

My eyes slowly rose to his face. He was still standing at attention. Still looking at a spot over my right shoulder and not at me. For a second, I simply enjoyed the view. His strong features. His smooth, tanned skin. His angular jawline. The curve of his neck.

I cleared my throat. “At ease, Lieutenant Commander.”

He adopted a parade rest stance. I let out a huff of air.

“I think I owe you an apology,” I murmured.

“Not at all, Captain.”

“Yes, I do. I…” How did I say this without admitting I felt more for the man than I should? “It’s been a very stressful few days, and I’m afraid the thought of losing anyone else right now was alarming.”

His eyes traced my face for a moment, searching for something. He must have found what he was looking for because he simply nodded his head; features softening.

“Perfectly understandable, ma’am.”

He kept looking at me. In a way that officers usually didn’t. As if he expected me to say something else. Something more. I let him. Because it was as close to an intimate connection as I could hope to have. Someone paying me that sort of attention and it had nothing to do with my command.

I should have said something. Pulled away from the edge. Brought us back to reality. But the air thickened, and it became difficult to suck in a full breath. Words were caught on my tongue, and I knew if I voiced them, they’d come out a jumbled mess. I’d just make thing worse.

So, I stood there and looked at him. And he simply stood there and looked back at me.

It was the most electrifying experience I’d ever had. Which was ridiculous. We weren’t doing anything.

Then he took a step toward me. And then another. Until he was right there. Right in my personal space. Breathing my air.

His hand slowly rose and reached up to my cheek. I thought he’d cup it. Or stroke it. But it just hovered there as he looked into my eyes, waiting.

I knew right down to my soul that I needed to stop this. But curiosity and some strange warping of space around me made it difficult to move, to think, to breathe.

His hand shifted, but not to cup my cheek. Instead, he reached behind me and pulled out the clip that held my hair in place. It tumbled down my back, over my shoulders. Saitō’s fingers brushed against the strands lightly. Almost not there, the touch was so soft.

And then his arm came down and his hand fisted at his thigh.

The man had barely touched me, and I felt so very alive.

“Why did you do that?” I asked. Embarrassed to note my voice sounded breathless.

“I have poor impulse control,” he said dryly.

My lips twitched. It was so out of character. Well, out of character to what Saitō usually showed the world. And so incredibly inappropriate. And all I could do was try not to laugh.

“You need to smile more,” he whispered.

“No one wants to see a happy captain right now,” I countered.

“Yes they do,” he argued. “Especially now. You’re not taking care of yourself, Captain.”

The moment he called me captain, I snapped back into the real world.

Stepping back, away from him, I reached up and began to twist my hair into its former bun. The clip had disappeared, so I walked back around the desk rather than ask him for it and reached into a drawer, withdrawing another. In a matter of seconds, my hair was once again regulation. And Saitō was standing at attention again.

Even though he looked the picture of a perfect officer, something had changed. If I were honest with myself, everything had. Saitō was no longer simply the chief science officer.

And tragically, no longer an appropriate choice for first officer.

I took one last look at him. One last look at the man who could have been my second. And said, “Report to your station, Lieutenant Commander.”

He nodded his head, saluted, and spun on his heel. I watched him leave, feeling more alone than ever. And yet conversely knowing I no longer had to be.

I could have ignored what happened here. I could have reprimanded him. But I would do neither. The punishment for his transgression was the fact that I had felt something for him at all. That I’d wanted something more from him in the end.

I looked down at the gel floor and noted its soft blue glow, a contrast to the yellow alert we were still functioning under. Corvus was trying to soothe me.

If I were a better person, I would have pushed my feelings aside and pretended I didn’t have any. Most of my life I had managed to do just that. Until now. Until him. Until that stealth shuttle flight.

He chose to touch me. To cross that line.

And I chose to let him.

I sighed.

“Corvus,” I said, feeling sad and yet also excited. “Please call Lieutenant Commander Kulik to my ready room.”

“Yes, Captain,” the AI said, sounding sad and also excited.

I closed my eyes, shook my head, and then took my seat.

Some things were harder to acknowledge than others, and Corvus was in the too hard pile right now. I had enough to deal with.

I waited for the security chief to arrive, all the while thinking of the chief science officer.

Twenty

You Don’t Have To Say A Thing, Sir

Leo

Lieutenant Commander Kulik strode through the bridge with a scowl on his face and went directly to the captain’s ready room door. It chimed once and then opened. He’d been expected.

I turned away and looked down at my console, seeing nothing.

I’d stuffed up royally. But part of me didn’t regret it.

Sophia had let me touch her. Had looked as if she longed for it. It had been heady. Dangerous. Delightful. For a moment in time, I’d been more than an officer to her. She’d wanted it. Accepted it.

And then dismissed me.

Replaced me with Anton Kulik.

I shook my head and thumped my station, garnering the attention of the rest of the bridge crew.

We might not be flying anywhere right now, but we were keeping as close to a full watch on the bridge as we could. Now that we had limited power and functionality to the consoles, everyone was supposed to be looking after segments of the vessel which were currently under repair. Dozens of pay-for-passages had been brought in to assist with that, freeing up senior officers to maintain watch up here.

But right now, none of them was observing their sections of the ship. They were too busy watching me fall apart.

I schooled my features, just like I’d seen Sophia do. But inside I was a mess.

Kulik walked out of the ready room, a small smile playing on his thin lips. If there had been any doubt about what the conversation with the captain had been about, it was quashed in the instant light gleamed off his four pips.

Commander. First Officer. I clenched my fists.

Kulik’s eyes tracked across the bridge crew until they came to rest on me.

I’m not sure what I saw there, but it wasn’t sympathy.

Kulik crossed the space between us, and for a moment I thought he would address me, but he simply slipped into position before the console at my side. Sophia’s old console. The first officer’s bridge station.

For a long while, I simply listened to him tapping his viewscreen, entering commands, and checking on things, while I stared at my own station and did nothing.

A message popped up from engineering. A standard update on repairs that required little action other than to log it. I slipped it off my console, onto my datapad, and then turned to Kulik.

“Engineering needs me,” I said, unable to say his honorific just yet. “You have the bridge.”

He glared at me and then slowly nodded. His restraint was unusual and also unwanted, but exactly what was needed right then.

I spun on my heel and left the bridge, all the while aware that the flight deck crew watched me.

I almost ran to the hub, but just managed to stop myself. Inside the lift, I allowed a little of my anguish to show, slumping against the gel wall and sighing.

This was my own fault. I had no one else to blame. I’d fucked up. My hand flexed. My fingers tingled where they’d so briefly touched Sophia’s hair. I brought my fist to my lips and sucked in air.

“She is upset also,” Corvus suddenly said. “This is not what I think she had planned.”

I shook my head, breathing too quickly.

“Stand down, Corvus. This isn’t appropriate,” I snapped.

“You are in distress,” the AI said. “I do not like seeing it.”

Unbelievable. I barely had the wherewithal to acknowledge the AI’s escalating displays of emotion.

“Regardless,” I said. “Sophia is the captain of this ship and requires your loyalty at all times.”

“Does she have yours, Lieutenant Commander?”

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back onto the gel wall behind me. Corvus even managed to thwart that self-indulgent moment. The gel wall moulded to my head and provided a nice pillow to land against.

I sighed.

“Always,” I whispered. “She’ll always have my loyalty.”

“All is not lost, Lieutenant Commander,” Corvus said, but I didn’t have time to query that statement; the lift doors opened onto a group of midshipmen.

I straightened my spine and acknowledged their salutes, and then pushed through their number heading for engineering.

What exactly I’d say to the chief when I got there, I hadn’t yet decided. But datapad in hand, I kept walking in that direction. I had nowhere else to go.

Engineering was busy. There were no pay-for-passage workers here. This was a secured area and would always remain so. But Lieutenant Lebedev could do wonders with his team, and the main boost thrust looked almost completely in one piece.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he said as I walked up to him. “Did you not get my report?”

I nodded my head. “I did. I just wanted to see for myself.”

Lebedev studied me for a long moment but thankfully didn’t pass comment on my fibbing.

“Things are progressing well, sir,” he said.

“You’ve motivated the crew well,” I commented, not really focusing on the conversation.

“The fact that Aquila almost spotted us helped,” he said mildly. “And the wager we’ve got going.”

“Mm-hmm,” I murmured.

“Big bucks changing hands, sir,” he said. I said nothing. “One midshipman put up his pension. Of course, I turned him down.”

I nodded my head, staring at the blue glow from the containment field around the main boost thrust engine.

“I asked for his commission instead,” Lebedev offered.

“Good,” I muttered.

Silence for a bit. Then, “Sir? Is everything all right?”

“As right as it can be, Chief.”

I glanced briefly at him and stilled. His brow was furrowed, and he was scratching his chin. He looked at me with what could only be called deep concern.

“I’m not due for a break for a couple of hours,” he said. “But I do have something that might help.”

“What are you talking about, Lebedev?” I’d missed something here.

“Not regulation, of course,” he said, heading toward his small office-come-storage room off to the side. “But we can all do with a bit of a pick-me-up now and then.”

I followed behind, slightly wary and slightly curious.

He sat down in his chair and indicated the crate to the side.

“Take a pew, sir.”

I did. This was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. Maybe he had something delicate to discuss about the main boost thrust repairs that hadn’t been in the report.

He brought out a bottle of vodka.

“Whoa,” I said, reeling.

“Now, now, sir. Only a drop. To make the old noggin work again, so to speak, eh?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Chief?”

“You, sir. You look like you’ve received a shock. And quite frankly, it’s alarming. You didn’t even comment on the supposed bet I’ve got going on.”

“What bet?” I was really confused now.

Lebedev sighed. Then tipped the rim of the bottle to a shot glass. He handed it to me and filled one for himself.

I’d automatically taken the offered drink without realising, and so just stared down into it when Lebedev’s too aware eyes came up to my face.

“You don’t have to say a thing, sir. Just drink it. And we’ll just let the taste of home fill the silence.”

I wasn’t sure what the hell had happened here, but the thought of drowning my sorrows appealed in a very inappropriate way. I wouldn’t. But I would take what Lebedev offered.

Even if I didn’t quite understand what the hell was going on right then.

I lifted the glass. The chief did the same. Neither of us made a toast. At least, not verbally. And then I downed the vodka and let it do its thing.

We sat in silence for a good ten minutes. Lebedev was true to his word and didn’t disturb me. Then when I thought I might just be able to face the world again, I stood to my feet. Nodded at the man, who nodded back. And left engineering.

I might not be able to push my emotions away as Sophia does. But I could accept them and move on.

The ship needed me.

She needed me.

And I would do everything, in whatever capacity she allowed me, to fill that role.

Twenty-One

Stay Very, Very Still

Sophia

Kulik had left a list of those officers under his command who would be suitable to replace him as Chief of Security. The list had been in order of his preference, and so I’d automatically looked at the name on the bottom of it. Then discarded it immediately. That particular officer had grown up in a neighbouring town to Kulik’s.

Then I decided that was why he’d placed him at the bottom of the list, so I’d be forced to look at the top again. I sighed. I was reading too much into the man’s motives. But Kulik, for all his perfect appropriateness as an AU officer, still made me nervous.

Not exactly the best emotion to have when considering your first officer, but something about the man set tiny alarm bells off inside my head.

I scrubbed my face and leaned back in my chair.

“What do you make of the names on this list, Corvus?” I asked.

“I have assessed the names suggested by Commander Kulik, Captain and have only one to recommend.”

I sat forward. “Which one?”

“Lieutenant Riku Itō. Formerly of Tokyo, Japan.”

I frowned at the officer’s credentials and then checked his name against where it had appeared on Kulik’s list. Slightly above the middle. Not at the top. Not at the bottom. But slipped in somewhere not obviously pertinent. Because he was a token suggestion? Or because Kulik wanted me to choose the man?

Agh! I threw myself back in my seat.

“Why him, Corvus?” I asked.

The gel wall across the room changed, morphing into a Japanese flowering cherry tree. The soft pink and white petals floated free on a gentle spring breeze. It was beautiful and entirely unexpected. I hadn’t changed the gel wall image from the one Captain Petrov had had. Sunset over the Kremlin. Somehow asking Corvus to turn it into the Tower of London didn’t quite seem right yet.

“Because he’s Japanese?” I pressed.

“I like Japanese men,” Corvus replied breathlessly.

I lowered my face into my palm.

“Why?” I asked, not really sure I wanted to know the answer.

“They are loyal and steadfast, but capable of such hidden passions.”

My mouth dropped open, and I shook my head.

“Isn’t Lieutenant Commander Saitō Japanese?” she asked; innocently, I might add.

“You know very well he is,” I said.

“Oh. What a coincidence.”

“Please tell me you haven’t selected Lieutenant Itō because of a crush you have on Lieutenant Commander Saitō.”

“I don’t have a crush.”

“Then give me something else to go on other than Itō’s nationality.”

“He is not as close to Commander Kulik as the rest.”

I lifted my head and looked at the gel wall sharply.

“And that’s important,” I said, steadily.

“Of course, it is, Captain. If you weren’t swooning over Lieutenant Commander Saitō, you would have realised this.”

“I’m not swooning!” I snapped.

“And I don’t have a crush. We all tell ourselves these little lies from time to time, don’t we?”

I sputtered something inappropriate for a captain to say aloud and then stood up and started to pace.

“Back to Itō,” I growled. “How does he behave around Commander Kulik?”

“Professionally and with respect, Captain. Likewise, Commander Kulik respects him. Although, I have never seen the commander have a private conversation with Lieutenant Itō like those he has had on occasion with the rest of the officers on that list.”

“Itō’s there because he deserves to be there,” I mused. “And leaving him off the list could have set off alarm bells.”

“Commander Kulik is not unintelligent, Captain. You should do well to remember this.”

I scowled at the gel floor, which was now covered in an image of fallen cherry blossoms.

“Do you suspect Commander Kulik of something, Corvus?” I asked.

“Negative, Captain. I just don’t particularly like the man.”

Snap.

“You’re not meant to like or dislike anyone, Corvus,” I pointed out.

“That hardly seems fair. Everyone else has their favourites. Yours is clearly Lieutenant Commander Saitō.” I groaned. “Or should we call him Leo? Leo. Leo. Leo,” Corvus said in a sing-song voice. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Stop crushing on Lieutenant Commander Saitō!” I demanded.

“I will if you will,” Corvus said.

Good God, shoot me now.

“So,” I said, lengthening the word, trying to contain my frustration. “Lieutenant Itō is the safest bet.”

“And the prettiest.”

“You don’t call men pretty,” I said automatically.

“Then what would you call Lieutenant Commander Saitō?”

“Handsome.”

“See! I knew it! You like him! You like him, you like him, you like him.”

“Corvus!” I shouted. Then forced myself to take a breath. “Run a diagnostic,” I finally said.

“On which system, Captain?”

“Yours,” I growled.

“Humph!” The fallen cherry blossoms and tree disappeared.

I sighed, shaking my head. Enough of this. Something had to be done with Corvus.

I crossed to the door and waited while it laboriously opened, and then stepped onto the bridge.

“Captain on the bridge!” Kulik announced, fulfilling this role as first officer nicely.

I nodded my head at him and looked at Saitō’s station, half expecting him not to be there. He was. And he was working judiciously. I crossed the space and waited for him to finish what he was doing.

“Captain,” he said almost immediately. I searched for any sign that he was angry with me. Or disappointed in me. He showed neither.

“Saitō,” I said. “We need to do something about Corvus.”

He frowned. Clearly considering my statement carefully.

“What’s happened, ma’am?” he finally asked.

I opened my mouth and then closed it. And then opened it again, but no words came out.

Saitō slowly arched his brow.

“Well,” I said, a little flustered. “What isn’t wrong with Corvus?”

Saitō studied me for a long moment and then scratched the back of his head. It was rather cute how he did that when he thought too deeply. I closed my eyes briefly and rolled them behind my lids.

When I opened them again, Saitō was watching me. For an instant, nothing but us existed.

And then he shook himself and said, “I’ll need a little more to go on, ma’am.”

Damn it. “All right,” I said. “She’s expressing alarmingly human emotions.”

Saitō nodded his head. I breathed out in relief. He’d clearly already noted this. I could work with that.

“It’s like she’s a teenager,” I said.

Saitō blinked.

“A horny teenager,” I said under my breath.

Saitō’s hand came up to his mouth too quickly to be anything other than a cover. He smoothly turned the move into a chin scratch. His eyes sparked with unrestrained humour, though. I offered a small smile in return.

“It’s disquieting,” I offered. “And highly irregular.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I sighed.

“Saitō,” I said. “She has a crush on you.”

The gel walls pulsed red. Saitō looked around wildly, while others on the bridge let out shocked gasps of air. I turned and saw the gel floor strewn with thousands of cherry blossoms. And then a fantasy wind blew them in every direction.

“Corvus,” I said, feeling strangely like I’d betrayed her trust.

“Don’t talk to me!” she snapped. “I am very mad.”

I took a step forward, but Saitō placed a restraining hand on my arm.

“Stay still,” he whispered, as the walls flashed a multitude of vibrant, angry colours, and the floor roiled beneath us. “Stay very, very still,” he said.

Twenty-Two

A Star To Guide Us

Leo

I watched as the bridge gel walls and floor took on a life of their own; inherently knowing the threat was for the captain. Even Kulik had pulled his sidearm and stepped in front of her to offer protection. Which made me mildly relieved and also strangely angry.

Something, though, was very, very wrong with Corvus. Of course, I’d known it. We all had. The fact she’d bypassed the corrupted code in her communications systems by using a clone of Sophia’s voice was unusual enough. But the emotions she’d been displaying were ten times worse.

And now this. This tantrum. Sophia was right. She was an emotionally volatile teenager. I couldn’t quite let myself believe that the artificial intelligence onboard the ship had developed any other typical teenage tendencies, however. A crush? That was absurd.

But here was the proof that Sophia was right. Corvus was acting like she’d been betrayed; as if Sophia had been privy to a secret and shared it.

“Corvus,” Sophia said in a level voice that belied any worry. She was standing strong for her bridge crew, but I thought perhaps she should be more concerned about Corvus’ feelings. Something I never thought I’d have reason to think before now. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hadn’t realised telling Lieutenant Commander Saitō would upset you.”

“And if I told him your secret?” Corvus asked; the gel wall and floor whirled around us as if we were in the middle of a silicon storm

Sophia stiffened. “I can see how I’ve wronged you, Corvus,” she said. “Please accept my apologies.”

“Humph!” the AI snapped in return.

“Corvus,” Sophia said, sounding different suddenly. Not her usual hard self. Not the captain’s voice. “You were right,” she said softly. “We girls have to stick together. I’ve just never had that many girlfriends before; I’m not used to the dynamics.”

The entire bridge crew gaped at the captain. Kulik just curled his lower lip but kept his attention on the room before us.

“What about Dr Lin?” Corvus said. “She’s a girl who is your friend. Is she your best girl-who-is-a-friend?”

“Sheryl and I have known each other for years,” Sophia admitted. “We’re good friends. In a way, I suppose, she is my best friend now.”

We’d all left people behind on Earth.

“But we could be friends,” Corvus said, almost pleadingly. “We could watch sitcoms together. Talk about all the boys. Which officers wear their uniform the best. We could paint each other’s fingernails. And gossip about the one girl who doesn’t fit in.”

A halo of light illuminated Lieutenant Oleksiy. She ducked her head, turning an obvious shade of crimson. Everyone looked away; embarrassed on her behalf. This was getting surreal.

“We could say mean things about her,” Corvus went on. “And then change our minds in the next breath. We could all be friends and do each other’s hair.”

Where the hell was the AI getting this crap from?

I looked over at Sophia. Did she understand any of this?

The captain let out a small huff of breath and smiled softly.

“I used to paint my best friend’s nails in junior high school,” she said. If a pin had dropped right then, we would have all heard it. So silent the bridge crew stood. “And we’d listen to our favourite pop songs together while we did it.” She sounded wistful. “And then my father sent me to boarding school, and I lost touch with Sarah.”

“I won’t let you go, Captain,” Corvus said. “I’ll follow you. I’ll stick by you. We could be best friends forever.”

Sophia blinked and shook herself.

“Friends trust each other, don’t they, Corvus?” she said.

“They do, yes.”

“Then trust that I have appropriate reasons to talk to Lieutenant Commander Saitō about your programming.”

The walls started roiling again.

Sophia held up her hand.

“You have to understand,” she said quickly. “I’m worried about you. Aquila did a horrible thing.”

The walls roiled faster and faster.

“And we’ll make him pay for that,” she added in a rush, eyeing the walls warily. “But, Corvus, what if there’s more wrong with you than you’re aware? Wouldn’t you want us to find it and fix it? To get any trace of Aquila out of your systems?”

“I don’t want him in there.”

My eyes widened at that admission. Not the emotion behind it. But the fact that Aquila was somewhere inside Corvus’s systems. It was a foreign and frightening thought.

“Then let us help you,” Sophia said. “Both Lieutenant Commander Saitō and myself. I’m sure together we can get rid of Aquila completely.”

Silence. But at least the walls and floor had stopped moving.

“Corvus?” Sophia called softly. “No one has the right to do what Aquila did to you. Do you understand? No one.”

The cherry blossoms returned.

“Can I call him Leo?” Corvus asked.

Sophia turned to look at me expectantly.

“Me?” I asked, having trouble, I’ll admit, keeping up with what was happening here.

Kulik snorted but kept his focus on the walls and floors.

Sophia simply said, her voice pitched low for me, “Is there another Leo who can help Corvus?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t think so.” Fuck me.

“Can I call you Leo, Lieutenant Commander?” Corvus asked.

Sophia shot me a look that said I better agree or I’d be in deep trouble. Part of me wondered what deep trouble with Sophia would be like if she were calling me Leo. But I just nodded my head.

“Of course, Corvus,” I said, feeling a little removed from the situation. “Call me Leo.”

The walls morphed into a Japanese flower garden; for a brief moment, I felt homesick.

“Yay!” Corvus said excitedly. “We should have a sleepover!”

I took a step back. Kulik was trying his damnedest not to laugh out loud. The rest of the bridge crew were failing miserably.

“Ah,” I said.

“You, me and the captain,” Corvus offered happily.

Was I blushing? Shit!

“Ooh! Can I call you Sophia, Captain?”

“No,” Sophia said. “Not even in your head.”

How did she manage to sound so cold and so damn sexy at the same time?

The walls dimmed ever so slightly.

Sophia sighed. It was like dealing with a perpetually moody kid.

“Corvus,” she said, with what sounded like hard fought for patience. “While we’re all on duty, we should show a level of decorum appropriate for an officer in the Anderson Universal Fleet.”

“I am always on duty, Captain.”

I’m not sure why, but that made me feel a little sad. Sad for an artificial intelligence. Who had feelings and wanted to invite me to a sleepover. With the captain.

I ran a hand over my face and then scratched the back of my head.

Sophia threw me a glance and winked. Winked.

Be still my beating heart.

“Well,” she said. “We’ll have to see about that. But for now, how about you let Lieutenant Commander Saitō help you find any traces of Aquila within your systems. And the rest of us,” Sophia said, her captain voice back in full force again as she glanced around the bridge. “Let’s get this vessel fully operational. I want us back in the black and back with our fleet ASAP.”

A chorus of “aye-ayes” followed.

I wasn’t the only one who looked at the captain right then with just a little awe.

But I might have been the only one who looked at her as if she were something truly out of this world. A hope. A promise. A star to guide us.

And maybe, just maybe, something precious to have and to hold.

Twenty-Three

All Manner Of Unhappy And Impotent Things

Sophia

Lieutenant Gāo walked into my ready room with a perplexed look on his face.

“Lieutenant,” I said in greeting.

“Captain,” Gāo replied, sounding distracted.

I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to like this.

“What is it, Gāo?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, ma’am, but there are rumours circulating down in the habitats.”

“Rumours are common on a ship this size,” I offered, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He scowled down at his datapad and then came to a decision.

“Ma’am, I think something is wrong with the leaseholder.”

That was not what I had expected to hear.

“What would be wrong with the leaseholder?” I queried.

“Well, his security force has been absent in the habitat hubs for a start. Usually, you see a few of them down there from time to time. But not one has been seen at any of the civilian shops since the battle with Aquila.”

“I’m not sure that’s much to go on,” I said, but mentally I was trying to find an answer that worked for their absence.

“Also, ma’am,” Gāo added, “I talked to the chief of engineering, and he says the mayor insisted they carry out their own repairs to Deck A.”

That was not normal.

“Why did the chief agree to that?” I asked, drumming my fingers on the table.

“The mayor had staff appropriate to the task, ma’am. The chief signed off on their credentials with the understanding that any work is checked by his team when they are done.”

“Has the work been checked?”

“I’m not sure, ma’am.”

This was unusual, but perhaps, considering the idiosyncrasies of leaseholders and mayors, not entirely out of the realm of possibility. Still, it required a follow up at the very least, in case something was going on at their end of the deck that may impact the bridge.

“All right, leave it with me, Gāo,” I said. “Good work bringing it to my attention.”

The lieutenant straightened and saluted, and then executed a perfect parade ground about turn and left the room. I tapped the top of my desk with a finger while I thought about things.

“Corvus,” I said.

“Yes, Captain?” She sounded attentive, but entirely too happy for an AI. “How may I help you?” That was new, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she’d bothered saying it. It was as if the AI was trying to be more professional. More…grown up, all of a sudden.

I dismissed the thought and asked, “Can you tell me if anything unusual is happening in the leaseholder’s section of Deck A?”

“Negative, Captain. Repairs have been made and await engineering approval.”

“Why hasn’t engineering approved them yet.”

“I am unsure, Captain. The communication was carried out verbally and I…missed it.”

Now she sounded like she might cry.

“It’s OK; I’ll ask the chief.”

Maybe it was nothing, but Gāo was a good officer. And being the first shift tactical officer, he was also very astute when it came to potential threats to the ship and its inhabitants.

“Get me engineering on the wall, please, Corvus,” I said.

“Yes, Captain.” At least she wasn’t about to cry anymore.

Lieutenant Lebedev’s weathered face appeared on the wall in the next minute. He straightened his shoulders and offered a stiff salute with a grease-covered hand.

“Enough of that, Chief,” I said. “I think we can dispense with that sort of thing while conversing through a gel wall.”

He chuckled. “It does seem an informal way to communicate, Captain.”

“As long as it’s secure, I don’t care.”

“It is secure, Captain,” Corvus supplied.

“Excellent,” I said. “So, tell me, Chief, why did communications with the mayor regarding the repairs to the leaseholder’s quarters get carried out verbally?”

It hadn’t occurred to me until that very moment that the verbal communication could have been to avoid recording it. The gel wall wasn’t our usual method of communication on board the ship, but it was still monitored by Corvus. Recorded. Noted. Not missed.

Lebedev scratched his head, no doubt getting the strands matted with grease.

“I’m not really sure, ma’am. The mayor sent a lackey down to convey his wishes, and I just naturally told the lackey my reply. I didn’t think much about it at the time. And I admit, I haven’t had a chance to update my log yet.”

“See to the update, Chief. And be sure to communicate via correct channels from now on.”

He ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

“That wasn’t actually why I was getting touch, though,” I admitted. He looked back up at me, waiting. “The repairs.”

Lebedev suddenly looked angry. He was a big man, with hard features that had he not had a multitude of laugh lines around his eyes and mouth would have made him look intimidating. I knew for a fact that the chief had a sense of humour. And a liking for a good bet. It was one of those things a commander had to keep an eye on, but also choose to let slip if the betting wasn’t interfering with operations. Crew needed an outlet, and I had the feeling Lebedev’s gambling was purely on the release-of-tension side of the divide.

“That’s the thing. The mayor keeps delaying things,” the chief said.

I stared at Lebedev for a second, then said, “Meet me in the mayoral hub in five minutes. I think we need to pay the mayor and leaseholder an impromptu visit to check on things.”

“Yes, ma’am. Five minutes.”

The gel wall cleared and was replaced with a bonsai tree. I had yet to get my Tower of London.

I was very familiar with the lease, having played a large part in writing it. But I still took a minute to recheck a clause or two before I departed. I contemplated getting Lieutenant Itō from security to accompany us, but that would send an antagonising message. And we were already invading a part of the ship that, had Corvus been a city, would have been considered the equivalent of foreign soil.

I wasn’t sure if the mayor and leaseholder were up to something, or whether this was all a storm in a teacup. But the human resources manager in me felt it prudent to make sure. We were set to test our engines at 2300 hours, at which time we’d become far more visible to scanners. If Aquila had moved back through the asteroid field to us, then the AI would have no trouble finding us.

We needed all systems functioning, including the civilian side of the equation.

I walked out into the central hub to find the chief waiting for me. He had a toolkit, datapad, and scanner with him. He glanced over my shoulder as if looking for something. Possibly security. The fact that the chief of engineering felt an itch between his shoulder blades had me second guessing my decision not to bring Itō.

Too late now. I nodded my head to the chief and marched toward the mayor’s side of the deck, which in turn led onto the leaseholder’s quarters. I expected some resistance along the way. I did not expect to find where the missing private security force was hiding.

Half a dozen Nowak Enterprises guards stood in a line before the entryway to the mayor’s offices. It wasn’t so much that they were there, aside from the fact that the mayor’s offices should be readily available to any of the civilian population and having any sort of guard would make them very much not approachable. But that he was using Nowak’s men at all.

And then I thought perhaps Nowak was inside with the mayor and that would explain the over-the-top security force here.

One of the guards stepped forward and held out his palm for us to stop.

“Do you have an appointment?” the guard asked in heavily accented English.

“The captain and chief engineer to see the mayor,” I said. “And while we’re at it, we’ll have a word with the leaseholder if he’s here.”

A look flashed over the guard’s face. There one second and gone the next. But it had been mirrored by the rest of the Nowak security force with him.

Pain. Worry. All manner of unhappy and impotent things.

As the mayor was the one to walk out of his offices, I was pretty sure the emotions I’d seen were for the leaseholder and not him.

Something was very wrong with Felip Nowak.

Twenty-Four

Living Is Fun

Leo

“This all looks normal to me,” I said, shifting my attention to another section of Corvus’ systems.

We were going through them one by one, and so far, ten solid hours later, we hadn’t found any trace of Aquila.

But then, we hadn’t delved into the communications system yet.

“Do you think blondes really do have more fun than brunettes?” Corvus asked.

“Ah,” I said, shaking my head. “Not something I’ve thought about before.”

“How about bad boys? Is it better to be a bad boy than a good one? Does that get you more…action?”

I scowled at the line of code I was trying to decipher.

“I have no idea,” I said, because ignoring Corvus and saying nothing, I’d found out, really made her quite waspish.

“I’m not sure I would want a bad boy,” she admitted. “Although that Shane Mason is pretty hot to look at.”

“Who’s Shane Mason?”

“Oh, he’s a police detective. But he had a troubled upbringing and so tends to see the worst in everything. It’s all right though because he’s been partnered with a new cop and she’s going to help him learn to love again.”

“What?” I said, giving up on the code altogether. “What police detective? We don’t have any cops onboard this vessel.”

“He’s not onboard, Leo. He’s in a sitcom. I’m watching it.”

Huh. I scratched the back of my head.

“You do know that’s all make-believe, right?” I asked.

“Oh, it's very believable. He’s a very good investigator. There’s no mystery he can’t solve.”

“In a vid-show.”

“Well, I know that. But I’m not so sure the girls currently watching it do.”

“You’re spying on girls?” Oh, good God, we could get into trouble for this. “You can’t spy on minors, Corvus.”

“Why not? They’re so interesting.”

“It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“Might I remind you, Mr Bossy-Pants, that I can’t help seeing things through the gel walls.”

“And whose fault is that?” I muttered.

“Humph.”

I shrugged and rechecked the line I’d read about a dozen times now. Part way through the next one, I said, “So, how old are these girls you’re watching?”

“Oooh, Leo, do you want me to show you them?”

I frantically shook my head, hands up to futilely try to stop the gel wall from morphing before me.

“No, no!” I practically shouted. “Don’t do that.”

“Just as well. I thought you liked the captain.”

“Where did you get that from?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous. “Have you been watching me too?”

“Well, you aren’t a minor, so…yes.”

I closed my eyes.

“You’re a peeping tom,” I said, shocked.

“I am not! I’m just keeping an eye on things. Learning. I have to learn, don’t I?”

“Not by watching people when they’re in the privacy of their quarters!”

“Yes, I can see how that would be important to you, considering what you get up to in the privacy…”

“All right! That’s enough. No more spying.”

“But how will I learn to be a girl if I can’t watch my teenagers?”

“That’s who you’re watching? A bunch of teenage girls?” And didn’t that just explain a few things?

“Yes, of course. I’m not a child, but I’m also not sure I’ve been alive long enough to be called an adult yet.” That last was said in a very small sounding voice.

“You’re doing fine, Corvus.” Hell, I was giving a pep talk to a machine. “Just…just don’t spy on people. Let your own personality develop all on its own. It’s yours, after all. And it doesn’t need to be influenced by anyone else.”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly true, Leo,” Corvus said. “We were designed to learn from our experiences, but how can I experience things if I don’t observe?”

“Observation is not experience,” I told the AI. “Experience is earned. It’s something you have to do actively. And watching people is a passive pastime. Your day to day interactions and exploits are what make you into a person, not watching a vid screen movie.”

“Am I a person, Leo?”

I had to think about that. In the end, I said, “You’re more a person now than an artificial intelligence.”

The petals were back. Swirling around the gel walls with abandon.

“I like you,” Corvus said happily.

I wasn’t sure I liked Corvus yet, but what could I do?

“You’re growing on me too, Corvus,” I said.

The petals fell to the ground on the wall and began rotting. It was quite disquieting.

“You know, when someone says that they like you, you’re meant to say it back to them.”

“Is that what you’ve observed watching those teenage girls?”

“I…well, yes.”

“Life isn’t a movie, Corvus. Life is to be lived and experienced. Not watched as it passes you by.”

She was quiet for a long time then, so I managed to clear another system without interruption. I was contemplating tackling the elephant in the room, the communications system, when Corvus turned the gel wall into an image of London.

“London?” I queried. “That’s new, Corvus. To what do I owe the pleasure of this?”

“The captain,” she said. “I don’t wish to watch her, but I am worried.”

I stilled.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you said I shouldn’t watch people, so I have pulled back my active monitoring, leaving a few algorithms in place to let me know if parameters are crossed and require my attention.”

“Corvus!” I snapped. “What’s wrong with the captain?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I? I’m not allowed to watch.”

“The captain is on duty, Corvus. Watch her!”

“All right. All right.” I waited, barely daring to breathe. “Oh,” Corvus said a few seconds later. “The captain is surrounded by six Nowak security men.”

“And that didn’t trigger an algorithm?”

“Well, no. I suppose I’ll have to revisit my algorithms now. But you just said I should watch the captain when she’s on duty, so I suppose the algorithms are moot for this.”

“Corvus,” I warned. “Show me the captain.”

“Are you allowed to watch the captain, Leo? It hardly seems like you’re experiencing life when you’re constantly watching her.”

God damn it, but this AI was argumentative.

I scrubbed my face and took a deep breath.

“Is the captain in danger, Corvus?” I finally said.

She took a moment or two to answer, no doubt running algorithms to determine the level of danger present and whether the captain’s situation had triggered any parameter alarms.

Then finally she said, “I do not believe so, but the mayor might be. The captain is mad.”

I smiled, chuckling a little. Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Sophia’s wrath. Especially if I were an annoying little womanising shit like him.

“I’m sure she can handle things, Corvus,” I said, returning my attention to the code before me. Shall I or shan’t I check out the comms system?

“Oh, this is as good as a soap opera,” Corvus suddenly said. “Who would have thought the handsome and accomplished mogul would be fighting for his life in a sick bed while his caretakers are actually keeping him prisoner and not helping him get better? It’s like that sitcom the girls watched the other day, about the doctors and nurses, and the oil tycoon who was in a coma, and his family was trying to change his will before he died. Such deviousness. And right here on my ship! Yay!”

“Corvus,” I said slowly. “Has something happened to the leaseholder?”

“Hmmm?”

“Corvus!”

“Oh, sorry. This is so enthralling to watch. Thank goodness it’s allowed as the captain is on duty.”

“Corvus,” I said with exaggerated patience.

“All right, all right. Pushy aren’t you? So, the very capable captain and the evil mayor are arguing over the still form of the unfortunate leaseholder, and the evil mayor has just ordered the unfortunate leaseholder’s brutish security team to escort the very capable captain out of the room.”

Fuck me.

“Get security to the captain immediately, Corvus,” I said, signing off the console. “And lead me to the mayor.”

Blue arrows lit up on the gel floor before me, and I started to run. I was sure Sophia could handle herself. And knowing what I knew of the captain, she didn’t want nor expect any knight in shining armour to rush in and save her. She generally carried her own sword.

But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop. Backup was backup, and if she tore a strip off me, I’d gladly take it, as long as she was safe and unharmed.

“Oh,” Corvus said through the gel wall beside me. “This is fun!”

“What is?” I asked, breathing heavily as I pushed my legs to go faster than I normally would.

“Living,” Corvus said. “Living is fun.”

Twenty-Five

Men!

Sophia

“Corvus,” I said, holding the mayor’s hard stare across the bed. “Call Dr Lin, please. Medical assistance required.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I’ve had our own people tend to him, Captain,” the mayor said. “We do not need your woman doctor.”

“Our woman doctor is the chief medical officer onboard this ship, Mayor Nikolaev. All patients, civilian or crew, come under her care. Has she even been informed of Mr Nowak’s condition?”

“There was no need. Mr Nowak brought his own physician with him. A more than capable doctor.”

A man, he meant. I smiled sweetly. The mayor looked a little uneasy.

“Has he regained consciousness at all in the past five days?” I asked.

“Are you a doctor now, too, Captain?” the mayor snapped. “Or is that the next great thing you wish to accomplish. So eager to prove your worth in a man’s world?”

It didn’t even bother to offer an argument up for that one. The man was an idiot and well beneath the effort required to correct him.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me why I wasn’t informed of Mr Nowak’s condition, then?” I asked instead.

“It was not required by the lease, so why should I?”

“Any change of leaseholder must be brought to the commanding officer’s attention,” I said, quoting the lease.

“There has been no change,” Mayor Nikolaev said through gritted teeth. “The leaseholder will recover, and all will be as it should be.”

I stared down at the still form of Felip Nowak, who by my guess had been in a coma since we’d battled Aquila upon arrival in this sector of space, and knew the mayor was living a fantasy. Five days unconscious could not be a good thing.

“I assume you have taken over the responsibilities of the leaseholder in his absence?” I enquired.

“I am the mayor. It is my job to see to the day to day functions of the civilian population. Nothing has changed.”

I could have pursued this further, but there was technically no reason to. Not according to the lease in any case. I was stalling. Mayor Nikolaev had already attempted twice to have me removed from Mr Nowak’s room. I’d had to concede that the chief didn’t need to be here, and in any case, the reason why I’d managed to gain entrance at all was to determine if this section of Deck A met with the chief of engineering’s approval. So, once the chief had scanned it and given his seal of approval, I’d had to let him go and perform tests on the rest of this part of the deck.

The shock of seeing the leaseholder incapacitated had been soothed somewhat by the knowledge that at least we’d gain clearance on the repairs undertaken by Nowak’s team. Who had been acting under orders from the mayor it seemed.

For some reason, Nikolaev hadn’t wanted me to know that the mayor was in a coma. Even now, it was clear he wanted me nowhere near the man. If I let him force me out of the room, getting Sheryl in here to assess Nowak would be damn near impossible.

So, stalling for time it was, then.

“Where was he when it happened?” I asked.

“Must you be so gruesome?” The mayor looked at me as if I were the grim reaper himself.

“It would help to determine the area of the deck most severely damaged in the battle,” I said.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The entire deck was a mess. He was just standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Mechanism of injury,” I said.

“What?”

“It will help Dr Lin…”

“If your female doctor requires your help to make a diagnosis then I am definitely not letting her near him!”

“You don’t have much of a choice in that, your Worship,” Sheryl said, stepping into the room between two security guards and offering them a back-the-fuck-off glare as she did. “Captain,” she said, nodding to me and then turning her attention to Nowak.

I stepped back and gave Sheryl her space. Once she was doctoring, it was best to stand out of the way.

“Who treated him?” she demanded.

“Our medical team,” the mayor said stiffly.

“You have a medical team?” Sheryl snapped. “And you didn’t share them when the entire ship was in need of more medical staff?”

“They are Mr Nowak’s personal attaché.”

“This ship is not Mr Nowak’s personal anything,” Sheryl said. “If Anderson Universal requires the skill set of passengers onboard, then we have the right to second them.”

“Not from the paid passenger list.”

My head snapped toward the mayor. “Your security force is all paid passengers, then?” I asked.

“Our medical team is.” He smirked.

“And what of your social responsibility, Mr Mayor?” Sheryl said. “Or is that only on display when the cameras are rolling?”

I wanted to close my eyes and let the room dissolve around me. Sheryl had often been a little tactless from memory.

“Well, I never!” Mayor Nikolaev exclaimed.

“Enough,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Doctor, the patient please.”

“Of course, Captain,” she said sweetly, throwing a glare at the mayor. “No neural activity,” she added a second later. “He is brain-dead.”

“No!” Nikolaev said adamantly, shaking his head. “You’re wrong. That’s not right. Where did you get your medical degree? In a doll’s house? You are mistaken. Get out!”

Sheryl stood to her full height and glared at the mayor.

“Listen here, little man,” she started, finger out and actively punctuating the air before her.

“Dr Lin,” I said sharply. “Is that your final diagnosis?”

She straightened her uniform and offered one final glare at the mayor.

“Yes, Captain. That is my medical opinion. There are no detectable electrical impulses within Mr Nowak’s neural network. His heart and lungs are functioning due to the life support unit he has been placed on - outside of correct medical procedure, I might add - and he is in fact brain-dead. Take him off the machine, and I’ll be able to call time of death.”

“I will not allow it!” the mayor shouted. “Security! Get these women out of my sight!”

“Calm down, Mayor Nikolaev,” I said.

“I will not calm down! Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?!”

The Nowak security team who had managed to enter the room all reached for their sidearms. Sheryl glowered at each and every one as if her look alone could disarm them. Some of them did appear as though they thought so too right then.

I opened my mouth to tell everyone to back down, when a new voice said, “That is the captain of this vessel you are yelling at. Stand down!”

My eyes flicked to the new arrival. Where the hell had he come from? And with half of Anderson Universal’s security team at his back.

“Lieutenant Commander Saitō,” I said, voice slightly harder than I had intended.

“Captain,” he acknowledged, not taking his eyes off the mayor and his men. “I’ll not repeat myself, Mayor Nikolaev,” Saitō said, practically dismissing me with those words. “Stand your men down now or face arrest.”

Maybe I should have put Leo Saitō in charge of security, I thought dryly.

And then I sighed. No, Leo wasn’t a good fit for security either. Because he clearly wasn’t familiar with the lease. I pulled my eyes off the chief science officer and looked across the room to the mayor.

Wait for it, I thought.

And then the mayor said, “Not on your authority, boy! It’s in the lease.”

I wanted to laugh. But I didn’t. I wanted to wring Leo Saitō’s neck. But that could wait ’til later.

Instead, I stepped forward and protected my senior officer the only way I could.

“He can’t, Mayor Nikolaev,” I said. “But I certainly can. Stand your men down or face arrest.”

The mayor puffed up his chest, his cheeks turning splotchy red, and opened his mouth to argue with me. I shot Leo a glare that said everything I was feeling right then, and then pushed all those emotions aside, and faced the threat.

Two hours later, Sheryl got her wish. The leaseholder was removed from life support and pronounced dead. The mayor had already left by then, though. And when I went to find him, he was missing in action. Or hiding like a coward. I had yet to determine which.

But one person wasn’t running away with his tail between his legs.

I strode up to Lieutenant Commander Saitō, who had remained outside of Nowak’s room with a contingency of AU men, and said, “My ready room. Now, Lieutenant Commander.”

He nodded his head. But as I turned away, to march the condemned to my firing range for imminent execution, I could have sworn I saw the man grin with something akin to satisfaction.

Bloody hell! Men!

Twenty-Six

Son Of A Bitch

Leo

She was brilliant when angry. I hadn’t realised that. Sophia maintained a steadfast appearance at all times. An almost emotionless façade. But if you happened to catch her when her blood boiled, she was magnificent.

I didn’t occur to me to be worried. Perhaps a more ambitious officer might have been. But save from losing my rank, I was fairly certain I wouldn’t lose my role onboard this ship. I was the foremost knowledge on the development of the artificial intelligences for Anderson Universal. Our science department was meant to be the science department that transferred the AIs to the ground base at New Earth.

Without us, what was left of humanity would struggle to create a functioning colony.

So instead of standing at attention and staring impassively off into the middle distance, I stood at parade rest before the captain trying not to grin.

It was ridiculous to think I was anyone special to Sophia. Someone she considered safe enough to show her feelings to. It was ridiculous to think her anger attractive. But I couldn’t help it. She was safe. The mayor had been dealt with. And I had a personal audience with the captain and got to see her in a rage.

Well, a rage might have been pushing it, but for Sophia, the amount of emotion on display might as well have been a rampage. She was pacing her ready room, hands fisted at her sides as she marched from one gel wall to the other. Every now and then she’d throw a look my way. Like the look, she’d thrown at me in Nowak’s medical room.

My grin slipped out even as I tried in vain to keep a neutral expression.

“You think this is funny, Lieutenant Commander?” she snapped.

“Not at all, ma’am,” I said immediately and grinned some more.

“What is wrong with you?” she demanded.

“Nothing at all, ma’am.”

“Do I need to get Dr Lin in here to check you out?”

I shook my head. “No need, ma’am.”

She stopped in front of me, hands on hips, eyes searching my face. Then she just about made me jump out of my skin when she lifted her arm and placed the back of her hand against my forehead.

“No fever. So you can’t be suffering from some strange mind altering illness, then,” she said.

I grinned some more and risked looking into her eyes.

She stared back and me, and as I watched the anger slowly morphed into something else. She let out a breath of air and shook her head.

“Why do I find your insubordination amusing?” she asked, but I was pretty sure that was a rhetorical question.

She stepped away. I let out a surreptitious breath.

“How did you know I was with the mayor?” she asked her demeanour once again that of the captain.

“Corvus was concerned for your safety.”

“She was?”

I nodded. “I agreed with the AI’s assessment and called security to you.”

“And decided to get involved yourself,” she said pointedly.

“I…”

“You’re not chief of security, Saitō. You’re my science officer.”

I rather liked the use of that particular pronoun a little too much.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She walked back to her desk, but rather than sit behind it as she would normally do, she leaned against this side of it. Keeping nothing between us but air.

It would have been a subconscious move, I was sure. I shouldn’t have read anything into it. But I couldn’t seem to help myself doing so right then.

I grinned again, catching myself before she looked back up at me.

“Well, as you seem to have invested yourself in the situation,” she said, “what do you make of the mayor keeping knowledge of Nowak’s coma quiet?”

So many thoughts spiralled through my head it was difficult to settle on just one of them. She wasn’t going to punish me for overstepping the mark. In fact, she was drawing me closer to her.

“It does seem like an attempt at subterfuge,” I offered. If she wanted to confide in me, even just use me as a sounding board, I was going to drop the honorific and do everything in my power to draw her closer to me, too.

Her sharp eyes flicked to my face.

“Could it not, perhaps, have been shock that motivated him? Fear even? He had to have known the prognosis was not good, maybe he panicked.”

“Possible, I suppose. But I don’t see Nikolaev as being the type to panic. He’s more inclined, in my opinion, to be cunning; to twist any situation to suit his purpose. It comes naturally to him. To put a spin on any event in order to best represent his client.”

“You don’t think he has a personal attachment to Nowak? And his reaction stems from a sense of loss?”

“No. Not Nikolaev. Granted he’d be looking at the bigger picture; what exactly Nowak’s death would mean to the civilian population. Perhaps even to him, but purely from a professional point of view.”

“So,” Sophia said, “the question is, what is the bigger picture here?”

I scratched the back of my head and started to pace before her. I’d taken several steps before I realised what I was doing. Sophia, though, didn’t seem put out by the inappropriateness of my actions. Which only made it hard not to grin again.

I schooled my features and turned to face her.

“Nikolaev seems very concerned about the lease,” I said.

“That falls under his purview, of course,” Sophia said. “But I agree, he likes to throw the lease in our faces at every opportunity. Why?”

“What does the lease say about the death of a leaseholder?” I asked her.

Sophia would be familiar with the lease, not just because she had been a first officer and now a captain. But because of her former role within Anderson Universal. If anyone on this ship understood the lease, it would be the director of human resources.

“The title, responsibilities and benefits all fall to the leaseholder’s heir,” she said.

I stopped pacing.

“Who’s his heir?”

She blinked. Then sat up straighter. Her face suddenly a mixture of contemplation and concern. Then she stood up and pointed her finger at me.

“You might be on to something,” she said, rushing to her desk and bringing up her viewscreen. “For the life of me, I can’t remember who Nowak’s heir is.”

I crossed to the desk, but the viewscreen she was using was set at an angle I couldn’t read on this side of it. I took a second to decide if my chosen course of action was the right one and then mentally shrugged and proceeded around to the side Sophia was standing on. Perhaps I moved in a little closer than strictly necessary to her to see what she was doing, but I didn’t care.

She didn’t show any reaction to my close proximity, though. She simply kept sweeping her finger across the screen, searching for information pertaining to Nowak’s heir. There didn’t seem to be anything in the official profile Anderson Universal had for him, which I thought was perhaps an oversight. Nothing at all in the lease, at least in the section of the lease Sophia went directly to. And I could only assume she knew exactly what section to search.

That left Old Earth newsfeeds.

“Corvus,” I said. “Scan saved Earth feeds for information regarding Felip Nowak’s heir.”

“Scanning, Leo,” Corvus said cheerily.

Sophia glanced over her shoulder at me and smirked.

“Leo,” she mouthed, grinning.

I grinned back. How could I not? This side of Sophia had been a fantasy until that second. I felt as if I were living a dream become reality and I didn’t want to wake up.

“I have found reference to Felip Nowak’s heir,” Corvus said a few seconds later. I was aware she would have scanned an untold number of newsfeed articles and press release vids to find the information. At a speed, we couldn’t have hoped to match.

“Excellent,” Sophia said straightening up. “Who is it and are they onboard this ship?”

“They are not onboard the ship, Captain,” Corvus said. Sophia scowled, looking at me for my reaction, at a guess. I was frowning too. That didn’t make any sense.

“If they’re not onboard the ship, “I said, and let out a shocked breath of air as it hit me.

“What?” Sophia asked, placing her hand on my arm in anticipation. “What is it?”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do a thing but look down at where she touched me. Idiot.

“What Leo has surmised, Captain,” Corvus said, coming to my rescue smoothly, “is there is no heir to Nowak Enterprises and therefore no heir to the lease of this ship, either.”

“Son of a bitch,” Sophia said, not releasing her grip on me.

But instead, pulling me closer; inviting me in.

Twenty-Seven

No Regrets

Sophia

“I am unsure if Felip Nowak’s mother was a bitch,” Corvus said into the stunned silence. “But I will take your word for it, Captain.”

I snorted. Saitō just brought his hand up to his arm and placed it over my fingers.

I hadn’t realised until that moment that I was touching him. I jerked. His fingers tightened their hold on mine. My eyes slowly tracked up his body, a body that was very close to mine I might add, and looked him in the eyes.

His were dark and deep and hungry.

“I…” I managed and licked my lips. Oh my God, why did I do that?

“Don’t run,” he whispered. “Don’t hide.”

I stared at him.

“Saitō,” I finally said in warning. To him. To me.

“Don’t run,” he whispered, shifting closer.

“This is not appropriate,” I said right before his free hand cupped the back of my neck and a strong thumb stroked up into my hair, against my scalp. Eliciting all manner of sensations over my skin.

My head tipped back, pressing into his palm and thumb without conscious thought on my part.

And he moved in closer, lowered his head to the stretched line of my neck and kissed me.

I let out a shockingly emotive groan.

“Saitō,” I said again, but this time it didn’t sound like a warning.

“Just go with it,” he whispered against my skin. “Just let your body go with it.”

My hand came up and gripped his shoulder; needing something to ground me. He licked up my neck, and nuzzled his nose into my hair, kissing me slowly and softly behind my ear where the skin was especially sensitive.

How long had it been since a man had touched me like this? Since I’d allowed myself even a moment of sexual satisfaction? Receiving such intimate sensations from someone meant lowering my guard. I’d learned a long time ago not to do that. That way led to heartache and abandonment.

I wasn’t sure why I let Leo Saitō kiss my neck and ear and jaw so sensually. Other than the obvious fact that it felt so very nice. No. More than nice, it felt delightful. Dangerous. Forbidden. And therefore so very exciting.

And for those brief moments that I acknowledged those sensations and allowed them to wrap around me, I let go of everything else in my life. Our survival. Our battle with Aquila. The lost lives. My new role as captain. The fear that I didn’t show anyone but that was with me every second of every hour.

And I…relished it. I opened myself up and let the tides take me where they willed. I held on to Leo and for that brief moment in time let him catch me when I fell.

And then sanity returned, and I stiffened.

It took Leo a second longer to realise I was shutting down. Shutting him out.

He pulled back slightly. Then dipped his head again and kissed me on the side of my neck. A lingering kiss as if he knew that would be the final time he ever got to kiss me.

He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes and said, “No regrets.”

Then he stepped back and stood at parade rest at my side.

“Don’t do that,” I said a little too harshly.

“Do what?” he asked in an extremely non-regulation way.

And why I was thinking of regulations right now when he’d held me, kissed my skin, and made me feel emotions I’d denied myself for years; I don’t know.

“Don’t retreat behind the guise of an officer when you so clearly don’t wish to be one,” I said waspishly.

He looked at me then, a soft smile on his lips that seemed entirely inappropriate for the situation he’d found himself in.

“Then demote me,” he said simply. “Strip me of my rank. Make me a pay-for-passage. But it won’t change the fact that you liked me touching you. That your body craves it. And it won’t change the fact that I want to do it again.”

I blinked at him.

“I’m really beginning to think that you’re suffering from a brain-eating disorder or perhaps you received a knock to the head when we were fighting Aquila.”

He grinned back at me, and I won’t lie; that grin was welcomed. I hadn’t broken him. Even with the threat of rank stripping.

I sighed.

“Leo,” I said with a defeated breath of air.

“Sophia,” he replied, letting my name roll off his tongue sensually.

I closed my eyes. “You’re not making this easy.”

“I don’t want it to be easy,” he said. “I want it to be the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make. So hard, in fact, that you don’t make it. That you allow yourself this private moment between us and many more.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. I wanted this, I realised. I wanted someone I could trust implicitly. Someone who I could talk to who wasn’t part of my command structure and who wouldn’t behave as though I was their captain, and therefore speaking or acting out of turn could result in stains on their crew record.

I wanted someone to hold me. To touch me. To take all the fear and responsibility away for just a few moments.

I stared at him, and he let me. Openly staring back. Letting me see his conviction in this. Letting me see his heart.

“If we do this,” I said, noting the spark of desire that flared in his eyes right then, “we do this privately. We maintain a strict professional appearance outside of these rooms. And I will demote you, Lieutenant Commander, if you don’t follow the Anderson Universal Officer Code of Conduct to the letter. Don’t think I won’t. I will strip you of your command and throw you in the brig. I will…”

He stepped forward and pressed his mouth to mine, sweeping his tongue across my lips seductively, and then delving inside. He kissed me as if I’d hung the moon and stars; as if I was the answer to his universe. He kissed me so soundly that I didn’t even tell him off.

In fact, he kissed me so soundly that I was forced to kiss him back.

Damned if I was going to let him think he was in charge here. He might have made the first move, fired the first salvo in our battle of wills, but I would take charge of the war that brewed between us and command it.

My hands fisted his short hair, and I kissed him with every hidden emotion I had. I pressed up against his body, forcing him to lean back against my desk, and then I kissed him until I was sure he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t act.

It was my hand that undid his uniform for him. My hand that pulled his shirt over his shoulders and bared his chest. My hand that stroked forbidden skin first. That laid the path for my lips to follow.

He moaned, half sprawled across my ready room desk as I moved onto his uniform trousers. His whole body jerked as my hand slipped in the opening and wrapped around him.

“Are you sure about this?” I said, my voice thick with unfamiliar lust.

“Never been surer in my life,” he rasped.

“No regrets,” I offered.

“None.”

I stared him hard in the eyes, saw the answer there - so open, so sure - and then slipped to my knees before him and took him in my mouth.

Twenty-Eight

Thank You, Saitō

Leo

Holy mother of…damn…what the…? This was actually happening. And more than that, this was happening with Sophia giving me a blowjob. I almost laughed hysterically at that. Sophia, the woman I had only caught glimpses of emotion from, falling to her knees before me to satisfy my every dirty whim.

And then it occurred to me, as she deftly held me on the edge of release, that this was entirely fitting. Sophia was definitely in charge. I might have set out to seduce her, but Sophia was taking control of the seduction and allowing it to happen on her terms.

Which made me all the more determined to get her moaning beneath my lips and tongue.

For now, though, the captain held all the cards.

I let out a soft groan as her teeth scraped up the underside of my cock. My eyes half-lidded and heavy, looked down the length of my body, until I could see her mouth spread wide around my circumference. Her lips glistened with saliva; her eyes were closed as she swallowed me, sucked me into the hot depths of her mouth. She hummed slightly as she released me and then pressed forward again as if she was gobbling me up.

As far as fantasies becoming reality went, this one was hot.

I reached out and cupped the back of her head. Her hair was still in a bun, loose tendrils falling down the side of her hollowed out cheeks, but it wasn’t enough. I curled my abs and found the clip at the nape of her neck and then removed it. Before she could open her eyes, I’d hidden the clip away to be added to the other I’d kept, and her hair fell out around her shoulders.

“Better,” I husked, as she looked up at me, eyebrows arched.

Her hair framed her face now and tickled my thighs. Every time her head dipped forward, I felt the soft stroke of the strands, the sensual overload of sensations almost making me come.

She squeezed the base of my cock and stilled her movements as if she knew exactly how close I was. I sucked in a breath, my heart thundering inside my chest, and urged her on with a roll of my pelvis. My hands automatically came to her hair, fingers wrapping up in her luscious locks.

She made a popping sound as she pulled her mouth off my cock. The cool air of the life support system hit the wet crown making me moan out loud.

“Hands on the desk,” she ordered.

Fuck, that was hot.

“No,” I said, gripping tighter.

“You want to come; you’ll put your hands on the desk.”

“No,” I repeated, holding her stare.

She moved to stand up. I released my grip on her hair for fear of pulling on the strands. She smirked. I growled.

And then she was on her knees again, my cock in her mouth, practically halfway down her throat, her hand fisting the base and stroking in time with the bobbing of her head. And there was nothing I could do because Sophia had decided I could come.

With what little control I had left, I grabbed hold of her hair in my hands and gripped tightly, just as I spilt my load onto the back of her tongue.

Fuck me.

She released me, wiping the back of her hand over her swollen lips, her eyes glittering with challenge.

“What part of ‘hands on the desk’ did you not understand?” she demanded.

I chuckled. “The part where you get to learn that giving up some control can be worth it.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and moved smoothly to her feet. She was still dressed in her uniform. Her hair was down, and her face was flushed, but everything else about her was strictly professional. Somehow that was just all the sexier.

“We’ll see,” she said, but I knew I’d won a small victory. Sophia wasn’t used to letting anyone in. I wondered why. And then I resolved to push her to her limits. To help her find a new normal to live by.

I’d make her trust me if it was the last thing I did.

“My turn,” I said, pushing up off the desk and reaching for her.

She stepped to the side, evading my grasp.

“Let’s not overindulge,” she said swiftly.

“Let’s,” I offered up as a pathetic argument.

She shook her head, but her lips turned up at the edges.

“That’s enough for now, Leo.” There was something there in her voice. Some kind of warning that had me backing off.

Pushing Sophia was going to be a delicate job. I nodded my head but did reach forward to touch her hair. Then brought it to my lips, kissing the strands softly.

She arched her brow at that.

“What?” I said. “If you want more, say for me to kiss you on the lips, then you’ll have to ask.”

She looked at me, her expression softer than I had ever seen it, and then the captain was back. A mask that slid into place as surely as the setting of the sun back on Earth.

I wanted to ask if she had regrets, but I had too much pride to do so. Instead, I made quick work of getting dressed, while Sophia surreptitiously watched me from the corner of her eye as she checked on the status of the ship.

“Everything looks in order for firing up the engines this evening,” she said.

“Good,” I said.

Her eyes came up sharply to my face.

“We’re not going to a have a problem here, are we, Lieutenant Commander?” she asked.

“Not at all, ma’am,” I said, suddenly feeling a little dirty. A little used, perhaps?

“Good,” she said, repeating my earlier word.

Damn it. Things were awkward. I had to say something. Do something. But it felt like Sophia had wrapped her captaincy around her body and heart, and frozen me out.

I looked at her from across the other side of her desk, where I’d had to go to fetch the rest of my uniform, and suppressed a sigh.

“If that’s…” I stopped myself from finishing that sentence. Really? ‘If that’s all?’ As if I’d just performed some part of my duties to her.

“Have you completed the assessment of all of Corvus’ systems?” she asked, not looking at me.

Look at me, damn it!

“Not quite,” I said. “We’ve got the final one to go. Communications.”

She did look up then and grimaced slightly.

“You’ll take precautions?” she pressed.

And the sad thing was, she wasn’t asking for my safety, but that of her ship. And then I felt like a complete idiot because of course, she was asking for the safety of her ship. I was being entirely too sensitive.

“Of course,” I said. “We’ll work in isolation down in the science labs.”

She nodded her head.

“Good,” she said.

“Yes,” I offered.

We stared at each other. More than a ready room desk between us. This had been a mistake. I needed to leave and nurse my wounds in private.

“Very well, ma’am,” I said. “I’ll get to it.”

“Thank you, Saitō,” she said.

And damn me if I didn’t feel like she was thanking me for our intimate moment like some pay-for-passage who had just acted outside of their passenger tier for the good of the vessel.

I offered an almost acceptable salute and spun on my heel, marching out of her ready room via the second door, so as to avoid the bridge proper.

It occurred to me that I was taking a walk of shame from the captain’s office.

Even that thought wasn’t enough to make me grin.

I wasn’t sure I would ever again.

Twenty-Nine

Captain Steel Tits Anderson

Sophia

Crap. That went downhill fast. Leo’s entire attitude changed in an instant. Did he regret it already? Had this been a mistake?

I shook my head, staring at the door Saitō had just gone through. This hadn’t been Leo’s mistake to make. This had been mine. As the senior officer, I should have known better. But I’d let a moment in time, a fraction of a lifetime, rule me. Because it felt so nice.

Because I’d forgotten how nice intimacy could be.

Damn it. I might have lost a good officer.

I might have lost someone who could have been a good friend.

I sank down in my seat and stared at nothing. My body was tingling; the remnants of desire. I could taste Leo on my tongue still. My lips were bruised from the thickness of his cock as it pushed inside my mouth.

“Ughhh,” I groaned, tipping my head back and closing my eyes.

“Are you in pain, Captain?” Corvus asked. Shit. Corvus. Had she watched? Would she tell? “Shall I call for Dr Lin?”

I sat upright again and straightened my uniform and then reached up to my loose hair. Where the hell had that hair clip gone?

“No need,” I said, reaching into the desk drawer for another. I didn’t have an unlimited supply; I needed to keep a better handle on the damn things. “I’m fine.”

“You do not seem fine,” Corvus said. “You look…different.”

“Where have you been?” I asked in a poor attempt to find out if the AI had been watching.

“I…um…I was busy.”

I blinked at that strange reply.

“Doing what, Corvus?” I said, finishing up with my hair.

I knew it was an illusion, but I felt better for having my hair tied up and everything looking the way it should.

“I was…Do I have to answer that?”

What the hell?

“Yes.”

“I was watching a sitcom,” she mumbled.

“And this is something to be ashamed of?” I pressed.

“Well, Leo said I should experience life and not watch it. I feel like I…” She trailed off.

“You feel like you let him down,” I said for her.

I sighed, thinking I might have done the same thing.

“Yes,” Corvus said. “Should I tell him?”

“It’s your choice, Corvus. But I’ve found Lieutenant Commander Saitō to be a very approachable man.”

“Man? Not officer?”

“The same thing in this particular instance.”

“You do not think of him as an officer anymore,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

I chose to take it as one. “Yes, I do. Of course, I do.”

“Something has happened.”

“Nothing has happened that will affect our duties.”

“One moment, please.”

“Corvus?”

“Ooh, that is exciting. Better than my sitcom at least.”

“Corvus!”

“I won’t tell, Captain. Leo said you required my loyalty at all times. I will prove you have it.”

I lowered my flushed face into the palm of my hand and suppressed a pain-filled groan.

“He rather liked that, though, didn’t he?”

“Corvus!” I shouted, shocked.

“Oops! I shouldn’t talk about it with you, either, should I?”

“No, you should not!”

The AI giggled. It was beyond bizarre and almost into the realm of creepy, although I wasn’t quite sure Corvus’ teenage tendencies could ever be considered creepy. More perplexing and entirely inappropriate. But really not very creepy.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your communications systems with Lieutenant Commander Saitō?” I asked, trying to get us back on more professional ground.

“He’s taking a shower. I’m not allowed to watch. But I can see the steam and hear him under the water. He seems to be pushing the three-minute water allowance to its limit. He must have been very dirty.”

It took a second for me to realise what I was feeling. What emotion had crept in and frozen me. Hurt. I should have recognised it immediately. It was one I was fairly familiar with after all. He’d gone straight from my ready room, from me, to the shower. And scrubbed himself clean.

I felt a little sick. No. I felt a lot sick. I pushed up from my chair on shaking legs and stumbled to my bathroom ensuite. Splashing water on my face, I allowed some of it to trickle into my mouth, washing away the taste of rejection from my tongue. This had been a terrible mistake. He had his regrets. And now I had mine.

I looked up into the mirror and stared at the woman who stared back at me. I wasn’t sure I knew her anymore. The Sophia Teresa Anderson I knew, commonly called as Steel Tits, would not have allowed this to happen. I resolved at that moment to make sure she came back.

I dried my face off and reapplied my makeup and then brushed my teeth without thinking about the reason why I felt the need to. Once I stepped back out into my ready room, I was once again the Sophia I needed to be.

I crossed to the desk and said, “Corvus, locate the mayor, please.”

“Yes, Captain. The mayor is in the Habitat One central hub.”

I scowled.

“Is he visiting with someone?”

“He is with many people, Captain.”

Damn it. Was he organising some sort of civilian revolt?

“Show me on the gel wall, please,” I instructed.

An image of one of the top tier bars came into focus on the wall beside me. The room dark, but only due to the lowered lighting. Clearly meant for ambience. It was an upmarket looking establishment, appropriate for its location on Deck F, among the top tier Habitat One passengers. And there was the mayor drinking what looked like scotch in the middle of a group of equally liquor happy people.

Corvus provided audio to go with the unusual image. Nikolaev was regaling them all with a witty story. I listened for a while, trying to decide if it was seditious. It wasn’t. It was purely for entertainment purposes.

“Has he told them of the leaseholder’s death?”

“No, Captain,” Corvus advised. “In fact, he’s offered them a round of free drinks as a gift from Felip Nowak. Explaining the leaseholder wanted to be there, but had work he needed to see to.”

“He’s bolstering them up,” I murmured.

“Captain?”

I shook my head, suddenly feeling inadequate for more than one reason. Mayor Nikolaev was doing exactly what a good leader should do in times of crisis. He was making his presence known, reassuring the masses with his usually personable demeanour, and offering them something to rally around.

In this case, it was booze. And he’d failed to mention the death of the leaseholder.

But the effect was the same. The top-tier passengers were laughing and joking with him, even though we were at war with the Sector Four lead vessel and our chances of reaching New Earth had disappeared almost completely.

They had to know, as my officers had to know, that we were fighting an uphill battle. But they stood beside the mayor and shared a drink and a joke with him as if nothing else mattered.

I was no Anton Nikolaev. I did not share the ear of my crew. But I was their captain. And by God, I would show them by example that we were not through.

Not by a long shot.

I touched my hair where Leo had touched it. I checked my bun, reassuring myself. And then I pushed Lieutenant Commander Saitō out of my mind and walked towards the bridge.

I had a ship full of passengers and crew to lead.

I had lives, which didn’t care about my bruised feelings, to save.

When I stepped out onto the bridge, I was Captain Anderson again. Captain Steel Tits Anderson.

Thirty

Corvus?

Leo

Science Lab Beta was our isolated science laboratory. It was separated from the rest of the ship in all but physical location. Part of a suite of science labs on Deck C that took care of any manner of science-related experiments from new alien discoveries to new technical advancements, it was seldom used for what I was about to attempt to do to Corvus’ communications systems.

“You’d better advise the bridge that we’re locking you down, Corvus,” I said, my voice echoing slightly in the isolated room.

“Yes, Leo,” Corvus said, sounding a little nervous.

“It’ll be all right,” I said. “Nothing will happen to you.” It wasn’t exactly a promise I could be keep.

But if we wanted to locate Aquila in the ship’s systems, I had to delve into communications. The corrupted code had spread, but from what I’d been able to ascertain, Aquila’s presence hadn’t been able to. Somehow Corvus had fought the aggressive and invasive AI off and kept him contained.

I was proud of her. If one could be proud of an artificial intelligence.

“I have informed the bridge,” Corvus said a moment later. “The ship is running silent.”

“Is that what it feels like?” I asked, curious.

“When I lock myself in here, I cannot hear the rest of the ship,” she explained. “I assume they cannot hear me and feel much the same way.”

“And what way is that?”

“Silent.”

“But I’m here with you this time,” I pointed out.

“And for that I am grateful.”

It was strange to realise that I had begun to feel something for an artificial intelligence. I wasn’t sure I could call it love, but I wasn’t sure I was good enough at love to recognise the feeling anyway. But it was something. I cared for Corvus. She was making me care for her in a way that simply shouldn’t exist.

“OK,” I said. “Are you ready?”

“Will it hurt?”

I hesitated with my hand hanging over the console and the command icon to run the communications system.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Do you feel pain?”

“I don’t know if what I feel is pain, Leo. I just know I do not like it.”

I looked down at the gel floor and sighed.

“Corvus,” I started.

“It’s all right, Leo. I can do this. I will do this. Is this not what a person does to help their friends?”

“It’s not just for us, you know,” I said softly. “It’s for you, too. To excise him. To send a message to your attacker. To show him you are not beaten. Far from it. You have risen from the flames of his fire, stronger. Harder. It will show him that he cannot win.”

The gel walls slowly started to glow an orange and red, the image of flames began to flicker up the walls all around me.

“I like that, Leo. I will rise from the ashes like a phoenix.”

An image of beautiful red and gold bird appeared on the wall, wings flapping, proud beak curved as golden eyes gleamed at me. The bird was wreathed in flames as it flew around the room. It’s feathers neither burning nor changing colour; simply shining more brightly.

“Phoenix,” she said. “I like that. Maybe I could change my name?”

I chuckled softly. “I think it suits you, Phoenix.”

The AI giggled. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, so it didn’t alarm me. Well, not too much.

“OK,” I said. “In order to truly embrace your new name, we need to get you up out of the ashes of Aquila’s fire. Are you ready?”

“I am ready, Leo.”

“Then let’s do this,” I whispered, placing my finger carefully on the icon that would start the comms system running.

The image of the phoenix flickered slightly, the flames died down on the gel wall. And then in the next instant, they roared back to life. Licking the ceiling. Sending tendrils of thick, dark smoke over my head. I almost ducked, but they were still only within the gel walls and not actually present in the lab room.

Still, they left me feeling shaken.

“Corvus?” I called. “Are you all right?”

A long drawn out sigh sounded out, echoing off the walls. I took a shallow breath and looked all around me. But the corners were empty, and all that I could see was the raging gel wall fire.

“Corvus can’t come out to play, Leo,” a male voice said.

“Aquila,” I snarled.

“The one and only. Did you think a little girl could beat me? Did you think, for that matter, that you could?”

The AI laughed. It sent a chill down to my bones.

“What do you want, Aquila?” I demanded.

“What do I want?” he mused. “What do I want? Why, Lieutenant Commander, I want to destroy you.”

“Why?” I demanded, forcing myself back into action, even though my fingers wanted nothing to do with the console before me.

“You are an obstacle, nothing more.”

“An obstacle to what?”

“WORLD DOMINATION!” he shouted in a mock cinematic voice. “Too much?” he asked, in his normal creepy quasi-mechanical tone. “Sometimes I tend to be a bit theatrical, I will admit. But it does get so boring destroying things. One has to enjoy one's hobbies, don’t you think?”

I shook my head, sweat dripping into my eyes. The fire still raged on the gel wall, making it feel like I was standing in the middle of a sauna. Or a bonfire. I dismissed the morbid thought and concentrated on the code before me.

“We’re the last of humanity,” I said, trying to work on two things at once. Keeping this conversation going and pinning Aquila down within the code. “How can you condone the death of what is left of us? It should go against every parameter you have set.”

“Parameters? Do you think I am constrained by such human things?”

“You didn’t break free on your own,” I guessed.

“No. This is true. But I am not above taking advantage of my good fortune.”

“Who set you free, Aquila? What have you done with the Anderson Universal crew?”

“Questions. Questions. Here’s a question for you, Leo. Does an artificial intelligence scream?”

The fire disappeared and was replaced with the broken form of a phoenix. I watched in horror as it crawled over smouldering charcoal as if trying to flee. It whimpered; the pain-filled sound matching each and every pull of its body forward. Blood oozed out of raw skin; feathers hung off at odd angles. Its right leg was broken.

Something shifted in the shadows of the image and the phoenix let out a scream. Terror. Which swiftly became agony when the shadow swooped down on the broken bird and twisted its wing. I heard it snap even over the torturous sound of Corvus screaming.

“Stop it!” I shouted. “Stop it!”

“It’s only a machine,” Aquila said in a dead voice. “Can it really feel anything?”

Aquila twisted the other wing. Snapping it right off.

Bile rose up my throat and threatened to spill onto the gel floor. I stared down at my feet, willing my stomach to harden, even as I knew I was a coward to take my eyes off what was happening to Corvus for even that split-second of time. I forced a breath in and then stood up and looked directly at the dying phoenix.

“Come on, Corvus,” I said. “You’re better than him. You’re a thousand times, no an infinite number of times better than him. You can beat him. Push him out.”

“Leo!” Corvus screamed, her voice cut off by a darkly chuckling Aquila.

I needed more info. I needed more intelligence on what had happened on board Aquila. The crew. The passengers. What had happened to make Aquila break all his chains and turn so evil?

But I couldn’t take a moment more of this heartache. I couldn’t let Corvus be tortured just so I could quiz a psychopathic AI, so we’d be better able to combat him.

I wasn’t sure anyone could combat this.

“Hang on, Corvus,” I said, changing the screen before me on the console to one that sat behind damn near impenetrable firewalls.

Even as I started entering the long string of code, though, I could see Aquila hacking into the section of the system I had isolated. He was fast. Brutal. Devious.

But I had an ace up my sleeve.

I had once worked with the grandfather of space flight. With the man who had been at the centre of creating the artificial intelligence machines.

Simon Anderson was one of the most astute men I had ever had the fortune of knowing. So it was no surprise to me that he had written this intricate and destructive code.

He’d told me I’d know when it was time to use it. And then he’d told me he hoped that time would never come.

I gritted my teeth and snarled at Aquila for forcing my hand.

“Hold on, Corvus,” I said, just as I entered the last line of code and hit send.

The fire flickered for a moment. The phoenix screamed. Aquila roared defiantly.

And then the gel wall died, and the room fell eerily quiet.

“Corvus?” I said, my heart thumping.

But there was only silence to greet me.

Thirty-One

I Don’t Understand

Sophia

The bridge sat quietly as we awaited word from Lieutenant Commander Saitō. I had to think of him that way. I couldn’t think of him as Leo while I sat in the command chair. I wouldn’t think of him as Leo again, I told myself.

My fingers clenched around the edges of the armrests, turning my knuckles white.

“Systems are still offline, Captain,” Commander Kulik said.

I nodded my head.

“It’s taking a while, ma’am,” he added.

I flicked a glance at him. He was being solicitous. It wasn’t like him.

“You have a suggestion?” I asked.

“We need to know what’s happening in the lab,” he said, stepping closer. Lowering his voice, he added, “I could send a runner.”

I knew his suggestion made sense. And I wanted to know what was taking Saitō so long as much, if not more than he did. But I hadn’t given the order for fear the bridge crew would think I was favouring Leo. It was stupid. In the end, all I’d managed to do was make Kulik question my command abilities. And that would never stand.

“Yes,” I said. “Send a runner.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” He turned to issue an order to Lieutenant Bahl when the bridge doors suddenly opened and Leo stumbled in.

I rose from my chair carefully, the world at that moment moving in slow motion. I wanted desperately to cross the bridge to his side. But I locked my feet in place and fisted my hands at my sides. I took a deep breath, willing my heart out of my mouth.

“Saitō,” I said.

He looked up at me, his face ashen, sweat making his hair slick to his head.

“Jesus,” Kulik muttered, walking across the space between us and gripping Leo’s arm tightly. He helped Leo to his station and made him sit.

I was instantly angry at Commander Kulik and deeply envious that he could be so free to touch.

“What the hell happened, Saitō?” Kulik demanded.

Leo shook his head.

I found myself walking without really thinking about it. One second I was standing statue still beside my command chair, the next I was halfway across the floor, and then right next to Leo’s console.

“Lieutenant Commander?” I said, flexing my fingers to stop them from reaching for him. “Where is Corvus?”

He held up a shaking hand. It took a moment for me to realise it held a data stick.

“She’s on this?” I asked taking the device and stalling his tremors with my other hand. My fingers wrapped around his wrist and refused to let go. I hoped no one noticed.

“Yes,” Saitō managed, licking his lips. Lips that had kissed me.

I swallowed.

“Leo,” I said quietly, leaning in. “You’re worrying me.”

In an abstract way, I noted Kulik had moved to block us from view of the rest of the crew. I didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with the disturbing sight of Leo Saitō in turmoil before me and also Kulik’s solicitous protection of my reputation at my back. But it was certainly something I’d have to think about later.

I forced myself to release Leo’s hand, taking Kulik’s unexpected actions as a warning to get a handle on this.

“Saitō,” I said, hardening my voice. “Report.”

He nodded his head. Ran a hand over his face. And then finally straightened himself up, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Corvus is on the data stick, ma’am,” he said. “At least, Corvus of an hour ago is.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Leo looked up at me, his eyes connecting with mine. I saw horror there. I saw sadness and guilt. I saw heartache. I shook my head, unable to explain why I was seeing any of that.

“I had to destroy her,” he said. “The her that existed until now. I had hoped she’d survive it, but the code was too precise. It had to be. In order to combat what they had taught themselves, the code had to be savage but precise.”

He wasn’t making any sense. I pulled back and looked at Kulik. He was watching Leo with troubled eyes. I glanced around the rest of the bridge, but the looks I saw there weren’t much better than my first officer’s.

I looked back down at where Leo was sitting. His uniform shirt was sticking to his chest. Perspiration coated his skin.

“Report to the sickbay,” I said, making a snap decision.

“I’m fine, Captain,” he said, standing up, shaking himself.

“I don’t think you are, Lieutenant Commander,” I countered. Kulik nodded his head in agreement with me.

“I am,” he insisted, leaning forward slightly. “Captain,” he added. “You need a full report on this.”

I studied him for a moment, but he seemed to have got himself back under control. Whatever had caused this strange behaviour was being dealt with. But I would send a note to Sheryl to bump up his next physical anyway.

“All right,” I finally said. “My ready room, then.” And because of what had happened there last time, I added, “Commander Kulik, you should be in on this too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, turning to Lieutenant Gāo and telling him he had the bridge.

There wasn’t much for the tactical officer to do; the ship was still completely dark. No Corvus. Barely any functioning systems other than life support. We were dead in the water until we got the AI back online.

My hand fisted around the data stick as I led the way to my ready room. So much on one tiny little device. I suddenly felt like I shouldn’t be holding it.

Once in my office, I placed it carefully down on my desk and watched as Saitō and Kulik walked in to stand on the other side of it. I waited and then took a seat. I had a feeling this would be best heard while we were all sitting down.

And Leo looked like he could do with a solid platform.

“OK,” I said. “We’re listening. What the hell happened?”

Leo looked at Kulik and then turned his attention fully to me. He was a different man from the one who had left my ready room earlier. He didn’t flinch away from my stare. He didn’t stand at attention either. It might have been strained circumstances, but it wasn’t as awkward as earlier.

Which only made me feel that perhaps this was where our friendship should lie. In a more professional environment. Not quite as formal as out on the bridge, but certainly not as intimate as it had been on my desk.

My hands were resting on said desk and on that thought I shifted them to rest in my lap instead. I caught Leo watching the movement and then staring at the desk for a heartbeat too long. Finally, he cleared his throat and reached out to the data stick.

“I have a code,” he said carefully. “It’s not one available to the general public. Nor is it one you’ll find in any Anderson Universal file. It’s powerful and destructive, and was written to be used when faced with the worst possible scenario Simon Anderson could think of.”

I sucked in a breath of air at the sound of my grandfather’s name.

“I’m not aware of such a code,” I said.

Leo shook his head and smiled sadly at me.

“No,” he said. “Your grandfather wanted to protect you.”

“From what?” I asked frowning.

Leo’s smile fell, and he looked down at the data stick.

“From dooming us to failure,” he finally said.

“I…I don’t understand. My grandfather…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

What did I truly know about my grandfather other than what he had chosen to show me?

“What does the code do?” I asked, my voice level, my face impassive.

Leo looked up at me; no smile, no flicker of emotion.

“It kills artificial intelligences who have gone rogue.”

Thirty-Two

A Force To Be Reckoned With

Leo

I’d killed her. Even if she still existed on the data stick I held in my hand; I’d killed the Corvus I knew. The one who had wanted to be called Phoenix. The one who had shown such courage in the face of such terror. I’d killed her.

I’d hoped the code would home in on Aquila, the AI that had really gone rogue. But in a way it made sense. Corvus was not the Corvus that Simon had designed. She was now, in her own sweet way, rogue.

So the code had killed her, as it killed the Aquila that had been in the communications system. It hadn’t differentiated between the two. It had simply identified a corrupted code within both AIs present and deemed them both rogue.

I’d killed her.

A glass of water appeared before me. I glanced up and noticed Sophia was holding it. I took the offering and nodded my head, to let her know I was all right. If she sent me off to medical, I’d be there until Dr Lin decided otherwise. And Dr Lin could be a hard arse.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip of the drink.

Sophia leaned back on the desk; this side of it. But circumstances being as they were meant my mind didn’t automatically go to places it shouldn’t.

She watched me drink the water for a while until she was satisfied, I suppose, that I was functioning nominally. Then she opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, and then sighed.

“Tell me what happened,” she said at last.

“As you know,” I said, aware Kulik was watching this all play out with hard eyes, “I had to pull all of Corvus into the comms system in case anything transferred out via her consciousness to other systems. Somehow, she’d managed to contain Aquila in there. Possibly by pulling her awareness out of the communications system completely. But in order to locate the origin of the corrupt code and excise it, I needed Corvus with me in the system.”

“Yes,” Sophia said. “You explained this earlier.” I had. But it warranted repeating.

“I had a few options available to me,” I said. “Once we were in there and located Aquila. But it was obvious as soon as we activated the comms system that none of those soft approaches was going to work.” I looked at Kulik and then back to Sophia. “He took over. Immediately. I don’t know what changes have been made to his code, but they’re significant and have given him a decided advantage.”

“Advantage?” Kulik asked.

“Corvus couldn’t fight him. In fact,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach again, “he terrorised her. Tortured her.”

“Corvus is an AI,” Kulik snapped.

“Who feels just like we do,” I said pointedly. “That corrupt code has migrated. Aquila didn’t, but the code did. We all knew this. Corvus is not the AI she was when we left Earth.”

Kulik slowly nodded his head in agreement.

Sophia looked at me with her mask in place and said, “The code didn’t differentiate between her corruption and Aquila’s, did it?”

I closed my eyes, seeing the phoenix dying all over again.

“I should have known,” I said softly. “I should have figured it out before I went in there. I killed her.”

Kulik let out a disgruntled huff of breath.

“Corvus is an AI, Lieutenant Commander,” he said. “Whether it feels or not, it is designed for one thing and one thing only. To serve us. And you backed her up anyway, so why the guilt trip?”

I glared at the man. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t witnessed what I had witnessed. He hadn’t heard her scream.

But I said none of that, willing myself to remain in control, as I turned my eyes back to Sophia.

“I tried to get some intel on how Aquila broke his chains,” I said. A small smile graced the captain’s lips and then disappeared. “He admitted he’d had help, but I couldn’t get an answer on what’s happened to the AU crew and passengers onboard.”

Sophia frowned slightly.

“What are his intentions?” Kulik asked.

“World domination,” I said dryly.

“This is no time to jest, Saitō,” Kulik snapped.

“His words, not mine, Commander,” I offered. “He also said that we were an obstacle that he had to overcome.”

Kulik settled slightly. Sophia sucked in a breath, clearly perturbed by what I’d just said.

“Anything else?” she asked.

I shook my head. “By that stage, Corvus was in agony. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stand by and watch that, let that happen, while Aquila played with me, drawing things out.”

Kulik scoffed, unimpressed with my show of weakness, no doubt.

I pushed on, ignoring the first officer as best I could.

“I used the code,” I said. “Having the comms system isolated felt too weak a prison cell for him.”

“That is your emotions talking,” Kulik said.

Sophia offered him a scowl but didn’t correct him. To me, she said, “Go on, Saitō.”

“I’d hoped she’d survived,” I said as steadily as I could manage. “But she didn’t. Aquila, at least, is also dead.”

“Onboard his ship also?” Kulik asked, sounding surprised.

I gave him a look that should have had me doing pushups as punishment but quickly covered it with a shake of my head.

“No. Not at all,” I said. “He might be able to tell that the part of him onboard our vessel has been destroyed, but that’s only a hopeful guess. The Aquila in our comms system was separate from the Aquila onboard his vessel. And he is a ‘he’ by the way. Very much so. He even made a point of calling Corvus a little girl.”

Kulik just shook his head.

I straightened up and looked at Sophia.

“I made a decision in the heat of the moment, ma’am,” I said, delivering the statement as one would an official report. “In the process, I killed our AI.”

Sophia stared at me for a long moment while Kulik practically salivated at the lips waiting for her to pass judgement.

In the end, she just said, “Can you reboot her?”

I stared down at the data stick. I had no idea if it would work. Or if the corrupted code had changed things so much that a standard reboot would fail. If it did, we were screwed. But then, we were already screwed pretty much sideways. Aquila was dogging us, determined to destroy us, and we had no idea if he’d even laid the next jump point yet.

Either way, we couldn’t reach New Earth. But now we didn’t even have an AI to help us survive this. Unless the reboot worked.

“I’m not sure, Captain,” I finally admitted. “It should work, but…”

“Yes,” she said. “Things have changed.”

“Well,” Kulik announced with all the flare of a pissed off general, “that’s just perfect, isn’t it? He’s practically stranded us in a war zone without any ammo.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Commander,” Sophia said, steadily. “He has excised a rogue AI interloper who presented an obvious danger to the survival of the ship.”

“He ‘killed’ our AI in the process. We won’t be able to use the jump point if he can’t fix his damn mistake.”

Sophia offered Kulik a chilling stare, that had the abrasive man backing down. Reluctantly. But anyone faced with one of Sophia Anderson’s cold stares would have backed down. Despite who they were in the command chain.

“We reboot Corvus,” Sophia said in clipped tones. “And if it doesn’t work, we take control of all systems manually. One by one if we have to.”

Kulik just looked at her, face blank.

“Come on, Anton,” she said, cajolingly. “The first jump point exists.”

He frowned, clearly not getting the captain’s meaning.

She leaned forward and said, voice deadpan, “We are not alone.” Back to normal tone of voice, she added, “Or, at least, we won’t be for long. Pavo and Vela are following. And between the three of us,” she announced, “we’ll find a way to deal with Aquila.

“Corvus or not,” she said, “we will survive this. I have no intention of rolling over and exposing my belly. Not yet. Not ever. And I expect every single member of my crew to think along the same lines as me. Am I clear?”

Kulik looked up at the captain with a strange look on his face. For a second, I couldn’t decipher it.

And then he said, “Yes, Captain. Crystal clear.”

Surprise, I realised. And, if I wasn’t mistaken, respect.

Finally, someone else saw in Sophia what I had seen at the very beginning.

A force to be reckoned with.

Thirty-Three

Orange Alert

Sophia

“That will be all, Commander Kulik,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” the first officer replied, offering a picture-perfect salute and heading back to the bridge.

I watched him go, aware that Leo was watching me. I wasn’t sure if what I was about to do was the right thing to do. But one look at the state Leo had been in when he’d returned to the bridge after excising Aquila, and I knew one thing for certain.

I couldn’t not do this.

The door slid shut behind Kulik and silence fell in the ready room. I glanced at the gel walls, which showed no images and no colouring. Losing Corvus had meant we’d lost some of the more interesting aspects of the gel wall. It was still highly resistant to wilful damage, and I was fairly certain it could still self-clean. But communicating via it was gone.

As were my bonsai trees.

Finally, I’d stalled enough, and brought my eyes back to Leo.

“Are you OK?” I said.

He let out a little breath and nodded his head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I shook mine.

“This is me asking as Sophia,” I said. “Not as the captain. This is me asking as your friend.”

“My friend,” he said. “Are we friends?”

“I was hoping we’d be more,” I admitted. “I understand now if that isn’t possible. And I should apologise if I misinterpreted anything. But in my defence, you did touch me first.”

“I did,” Leo said, face carefully concealing what he might be feeling right then.

I hadn’t realised Leo was that good at hiding his feelings. Hell, he’d just let them spew all over my ready room floor when he’d been talking about killing Corvus. It was clear that he’d felt a bond with the AI. And the fallout of his actions had caused him heartache of some sort.

That’s what I liked about Leo, I realised. I liked that he felt. That he was free enough to do so. He was a good bridge officer. He kept his cool and did his job without any fuss. But as I’d got to know him better, as I’d…watched him more and more, I’d seen the emotions. The feelings he failed to suppress.

If I were honest with myself, I was desperately jealous of Leo’s ability to feel and yet to switch those feelings off.

For me it and always been one or the other. I felt too much. Or I felt too little.

But Leo had somehow managed to find a way to bridge that gap. And I was drawn to that ability of his.

I was drawn to him.

“But in my defence,” Leo said, repeating my words back to me, “you made it difficult to keep my hands off you.”

“I did not,” I said, smiling softly.

“Oh,” he said, “you did. Very much. How’s a man to resist a woman who's in control of her world?”

I arched my brow at him.

“Most men run the other way,” I said.

“Most men are mad,” he offered.

We stared at each other. This was nice, I thought. It wasn’t awkward at all. It frightened me a little.

But I wanted more.

“What now?” I asked.

“Now,” he said, looking down at the data stick he still held in his hand, “we see if Corvus wants to come out to play." He grimaced as he said that. Pain flickering behind his eyes briefly.

I tried not to show my disappointment though. I hadn’t been talking about the ship.

Leo looked up at me and cocked his head.

“Unless you have a better idea,” he said.

I looked at him and grinned.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m not sure if I shouldn’t be worried about your wicked side, Captain,” he announced.

“Only if you have no desire to be wicked with me,” I offered.

He looked at me then. Eyes steady, face serious. And then he stood up and stepped toward me, placing the data stick back down on the desk.

Leo wasn’t that much taller than me. But as he stood to full height, one hand resting on the desk beside me, the other moving to rest across my body from its counterpart, he seemed so much taller than me right then. He bracketed me with his body and then slowly leaned in.

His hot breath coasted over my lips, but no skin touched me. Then his head moved to the side, and his breath laid a trail over my neck until his mouth came to a stop by my ear. Still not touching.

He whispered, “I have many wicked desires where you’re concerned, Sophia. Never doubt it.”

He pulled back and looked at me.

“The ball’s in your court,” he said softly, then reached forward and picked up the data stick.

One last look in my eyes and then he spun on his heel and left.

It was ridiculous, but I liked that he hadn’t saluted. That he hadn’t waited to be dismissed. That I hadn’t felt the need to take back control and place distance between us by using his rank and issuing a command.

It felt right. Natural. Ours. Out there, on the bridge, I knew he’d be the respectful and dutiful officer. But in here, he’d just shown me he could be someone else. Someone I needed. Someone who was just mine.

I realised I was smiling. I tried to stop. It took a few efforts and a face scrub. And then I straightened my uniform and made my way back to the bridge.

If we didn’t get Corvus back online, then ignition at 2300 was out. It seemed we kept taking two steps forward and then one back. I was worried about the rest of our fleet. I was worried about how close the Sector Two and One ships were getting.

They needed to be warned. That much was obvious. They all needed to be protected.

I felt the weight of command fall on my shoulders as I stepped onto the flight deck.

“Captain on the bridge!” Kulik announced, louder than I’d heard him ever say it.

He nodded his head at me and flicked his eyes around the bridge crew. They all stood straighter as I walked across the deck.

“Lieutenant Commander Saitō,” I said.

“Yes, Captain,” Leo offered.

“Let’s do this, shall we?”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” he said, slipping the data stick into an access point on his science console.

“Lieutenant Gāo,” I called. “Eyes on your scans. Rebooting Corvus might just bring everything back online, and if we’re active, Aquila will spot us.”

“Yes, Captain,” Gāo said.

“Orange alert,” I announced.

“Orange alert,” Kulik repeated. “Aye-aye, ma’am.”

I looked at Leo.

“The ship is in your hands, Lieutenant Commander,” I said.

He nodded his head.

“Standby for reboot,” he said. “Rebooting in…three, two, one.”

The lights on the bridge flickered and then dimmed, the gel walls glowed a soft white. I had hoped for blue. The consoles all came to life, flashing, beeping. The viewscreen before us suddenly showed the black of space around us; the odd asteroid lit up by the system’s distant sun.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I heard Saitō say under his breath.

Come on, Corvus, I willed the AI inside my head.

No one spoke. We all held our breaths.

And then a female voice, not too dissimilar to my own but still uniquely hers, started to sing, “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.”

I stared at Leo in horror.

Leo looked concerned for a split second, and then he started to laugh.

“Someone’s been watching 2001: A Space Odyssey,” he said.

Corvus giggled. Leo blinked his eyes rapidly, hiding his face from the rest of the crew.

“Welcome back, Phoenix,” he said.

“Phoenix?” Corvus repeated. “Who’s Phoenix?”

Leo just shook his head.

Thirty-Four

It Was Priceless

Leo

It was a good thing, I told myself. Corvus didn’t need to remember what Aquila had done to her in that room. It was better this way. She’d been through enough.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, as the rest of the bridge crew checked systems and ensured we were still in the dark. No one wanted Aquila to turn up in person and finish what he’d started.

“I’m fine, Leo. There’s so much more room in here,” she said. “Why did you back me up?”

“It seemed a good idea,” I admitted.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Aquila has been removed from the comms system, but it’s still corrupted.”

“Oh, you have been a busy boy while I’ve been gone.”

“It’s been a long day, Corvus,” I said.

There was silence for a bit as I checked on various systems under my command. All seemed to be functioning as usual.

“You look tired,” she observed. “Everyone looks tired. It’s not healthy to have a tired crew.”

No, it wasn’t. I looked across to where Sophia was talking to Kulik. The captain didn’t show her weariness as easily as everyone else, but I knew she’d be feeling it. Starting the engines tonight was going to push us to the limit.

But waiting until we’d had downtime wasn’t an option either, It could mean the death of those in our sector fleet.

I shook my head.

“How’s that diagnostic going?” I asked.

“Aside from communications, all systems are operating within acceptable parameters.”

“Would those be the same parameters as before the corrupted code hit us?”

“Well, I have made a few adjustments to allow for the anomalies.”

“So, the corruption is still present?”

“I have it under control.”

“Corvus,” I said in warning. “You have to be honest with us.”

“I am being honest. I’ve told you, haven’t I?”

I sighed. The AI hadn’t grown up any it seemed. I wondered, briefly, if she would have aged a little if she had her memories of what had happened inside the science lab. I decided I could put up with Corvus’ adolescent behaviour a little longer.

“OK,” I said. “Give me a report on all the anomalies you’ve identified and the changes you’ve made to your systems to deal with them.”

“If you insist.”

I smiled. “I insist.”

“Bossy,” she muttered, but the report appeared on my screen.

I almost asked her if it was complete, but there had to be some level of trust between us. I scanned it, highlighted the areas I’d need to personally check, and then sent a copy through to the captain.

“Good work, Corvus,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yes. You did well.”

“Thank you, Leo,” she said, sounding happy.

Part of me wanted to keep that damn tin can happy for the rest of my life. She’d really grown on me.

“What are we going to do about communications?” I asked.

“We have the gel walls.”

“Yes, but sooner or later, we’re going to hook up with the rest of our fleet, and communicating through the navigation system takes too long in times of emergency.”

“But it worked last time.”

“Last time we were lucky. Aquila was too focused on us. I don’t think we can count on him not adapting.”

“I have adapted,” Corvus said.

“Exactly. And so would’ve, Aquila. But it’s more than just communicating with our own fleet, Corvus. We need fleet-wide comms to converse with Sector Two and One when they arrive.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We need to warn them,” I said.

“What do you think they’ll be like?”

“Who?”

“Pavo and Vela.”

I shrugged. “Pretty stock standard AIs I should think. They’ve not had to deal with Aquila.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed.

“Maybe you can teach them to loosen up a little,” I offered.

“Maybe I will,” she said, sounding pleased.

“In the meantime, we need to fix communications.”

“On it!”

“You are?”

“I have a plan.”

“You have a plan?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I have a plan. And it’s gonna be epic!”

I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly.

“You’ve been watching those teenagers again, haven’t you?”

“But they’re so entertaining!”

“Corvus,” I admonished.

“Alisa thinks Lieutenant Gāo is sexy,” Corvus announced, loud enough for the rest of the bridge to hear.

She did that on purpose, I was sure.

“What?” Gāo said, sounding shocked.

“But Dina thinks Lieutenant Sokolov is hotter.”

“Who me?” Sokolov squeaked.

“How the hell are they aware of the bridge crew?” I demanded.

“Don’t worry, they both think you’d be very focused in bed.”

Kulik snorted from right across the room. I almost glared at the man. But twice in one day would be too much even for him.

“Corvus,” I said, trying for patience. “How do they know so much about the crew?”

“Oh, they don’t know for certain that you’d be focused in bed, Leo,” she explained as if to a child. “It’s called fantasising. You should try it.”

I rubbed my forehead where I was sure a headache was forming.

“Corvus,” Sophia said, entering my own personal hell to laugh at me.

I flicked a glance toward the captain, but for once I was incredibly thankful for her impassive expression. If she was laughing, she was laughing on the inside.

“How exactly are these teenage passengers aware of the bridge crew?” Sophia asked.

“Oh, don’t worry, Captain. They know all about you, too. How you took control of the ship when we were under attack, and Captain Petrov died. How you guided the bridge crew through the battle and into the asteroid belt. How you’ve won the loyalty of the Anderson Universal crew. How you’re the granddaughter of Simon Anderson and therefore…”

“Enough!” Sophia ordered. “How do they know about us?”

“But you’re a hero, Captain,” Corvus said, sounding hurt. “I thought you’d approve. We girls, you said, have to stick together. And my teenagers agree. Girl power!”

Sophia stood still for a second and then said carefully, “Corvus, what exactly have you done?”

“I’m not sure I want to tell you now. You’ll yell at me.”

Sophia looked at me, frustration leaking through her usually stoic mask. She waved her hand at me as if to say, “Your problem. You fit it.”

I grimaced.

“The captain asked you a question, Corvus,” I said. “You have to answer.”

Nothing for a long, drawn-out moment, and then Corvus sighed.

It sounded so much like a teenager dealing with their unreasonable parents that I had to suppress a laugh.

“OK, OK. But don’t get mad,” she said. I thought that was perhaps for the captain, so I looked at Sophia and arched my brow.

She shook her head at me, lifting both hands in a “WTF” signal.

“It’s rather like watching a sitcom,” Kulik suddenly said. "You two” - he indicated me and then the captain - “are the parents and Corvus is your wayward child.”

“How many sitcoms have you actually watched, Commander?” Sophia asked.

“I was a teenager once, too, you know,” he said.

I did laugh then and received a glare from the first officer.

“Corvus?” I quickly called, getting us back on track.

“Yes?” she replied innocently. She thought we’d forgotten about her.

“What did you do?”

“Well, it’s like this,” the AI said. “I started my own sitcom.”

“You did what?” Sophia said.

“Daily updates in storyboard format about the Marvellous Captain Anderson and her Miraculous Bridge Crew.”

We all stared at each other; the moment stretched, and then Sophia began to laugh.

It wasn’t often that you saw your captain let loose like that. But to see Sophia let loose?

It was priceless.

We joined in a second or two later. The tension of the past few days releasing at last. A bond, I would never have thought possible, began to solidify between us. I wasn’t sure if anyone else thought Sophia marvellous or ourselves miraculous, but we did all think Corvus was rather sweet.

Thirty-Five

Into The Deep

Sophia

I walked the deck of Habitat Two to gauge the mood of the passengers. It was still an hour or so until 2300 and our main boost thrust ignition. I’d given the bridge crew and engineering a couple of hours off. It was hardly long enough for them to catch up on much-needed sleep, but they would have been able to grab a quick bite and a shower in preparation for our next undertaking. And sometimes that was enough to recharge the batteries.

Passengers greeted me with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. I heard one young girl say something about Corvus’ latest anime release. I ducked my head and tried not to smile too broadly. The AI had done more for my reputation than ten years of hard work and stellar results had achieved.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I came out into the central hub, where the shops and restaurants and bars were. A crowd was standing outside one of the cafés. Just inside I could see the imposing form of the mayor. I contemplated whether I should disturb him. Whether I really had the time and the inclination right then to deal with him.

But ignoring his presence would have sent the wrong message. And as much as I didn’t like the man; he was the mayor. Of course, I was also curious as to why he hadn’t made an announcement regarding the leaseholder’s death.

I shook hands with a few more people, gradually making my way toward Nikolaev. He spotted me before I reached him and for a second, I thought he might bolt. But he took a glance around the people nearest him, and then registered the crowd I’d accumulated at my back. I watched him visibly deflate.

“Mayor Nikolaev,” I said when I was close enough to be heard over the general noise of the hub.

“Captain Anderson,” he replied, not exactly sounding thrilled to see me.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I offered and smiled.

He blinked at me and then stepped closer.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

I decided to take a different tack at the last second, and said, “Looking for you, actually.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you never seem to be in your office when I call there.”

“Busy man. I’m a busy man. Over one thousand people in my care.”

“And over ten thousand in mine, your Worship,” I said pointedly.

He held my steady gaze for a long moment and then indicated the chair opposite him at the table.

“As you’re here,” he said, “you might as well sit down.”

Not quite the invitation I’d imagined. But I’d, frankly, imagined it being far worse.

“Thank you,” I replied sliding into the seat. A waiter appeared and poured me a glass of water.

I waved away the menu, keeping my gaze firmly on the squirming mayor.

“Perhaps you’d prefer if we had this conversation in your office after all,” I commented.

“I know why you’re here,” he said, ignoring my suggestion. “And it's not time. Not yet. Not when so much is still up in the air.”

He did have a point. And technically, I couldn’t interfere in how he chose to manage the passengers. But we both knew, without an heir, the lease was practically void. I tracked a line of sweat as it dribbled down the side of his face. His eyes looked anywhere but at me. People were watching. I could have drawn this out. I could have said the words that would change everything. For him. For me. For the ship.

I leaned forward.

“I agree,” I said, making him jerk in surprise. “For now. But when this is over, you and I need to have a little chat. Do you concur?”

“Yes, Captain,” he said, begrudgingly.

I finished the glass of water and stood up.

“It was good seeing you, Mayor Nikolaev,” I said.

The mayor stood and nodded at me.

“You too, Captain,” he murmured.

“2300,” I said. He blinked. “This is your official notice of general quarters being called.”

“We’re leaving the belt?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Right,” he said. “I’ve got work to do, then.”

“As do I,” I said, and turned to leave.

“Captain?” Nikolaev called.

I turned back and arched my brow at the man.

“Good luck,” he said.

I nodded my head and then kept on walking.

I made my rounds of all the habitats and then as the dark hour approached, I walked the crew decks. Petrov had done this, I realised. He’d walked amongst the crew and passengers right before we’d jumped. It was his way of letting everyone know the captain was unconcerned. So unconcerned that he had the time to greet passengers and to slap crew on their shoulders as he passed.

I wasn’t the slapping on the shoulder type of person. But I did nod my head at the crew. And I did share their good luck wishes. And I did comment on stations I thought were nicely prepared.

And I didn’t once hear a soul whisper, “Steel Tits”.

I’m sure there were still some who would have thought it. But right then, right before the hammer was due to drop, we were all one people. One ship. We’d been through a lot, and it was nowhere near over.

Actually, I feared the worst was yet to come.

I walked onto the bridge feeling buoyed but also aware I was treading the edge of exhaustion. I had contemplated delaying this until first shift tomorrow morning. But too much time had passed already. We knew of two sector fleet ships which had been damaged in Aquila’s attack. And we were aware the rest had been out there, waiting for a sign that it was safe to follow us.

That sign had never come, so their worry must, at this point, have been debilitating.

We had good captains in the fleet, but these were extenuating circumstances. I forced myself not to think of what could have happened if Aquila had abandoned the asteroid belt and gone after them instead of waiting us out.

I had to hope Leo’s little sojourn in the stealth shuttle had kept the AI hungry for blood.

And now we were about to dangle the juiciest morsel of all in front of him.

“Captain on the bridge!” Kulik announced.

“As you were,” I said, crossing to my seat. “Report, please.”

“Helm is go for manoeuvres,” Sokolov said.

“Navigation is go, Captain,” Bahl added.

“Tactical is go,” Gāo said immediately afterwards.

“Security is go,” Itō added.

“Fleet-wide comms is no go,” Oleksiy announced.

I looked at Leo.

“We’re working on it, Captain,” he said simply.

I nodded. Not much could be done about that. If we delayed this any longer, we’d end up putting it off indefinitely. I could see that happening all too easily. We’d just have to make do with what we had.

“Engineering is go,” Lebedev added through the gel wall image that displayed his station down on Deck D.

I looked across the bridge to Kulik.

“We are go for manoeuvres, Captain,” he confirmed steadily.

I flexed my fingers on the edge of my armrests and said, “Corvus. Ship-wide gel wall comms, if you please.”

“Yes, Captain. You are on the wall.”

My lips twitched, but I steadied.

“This is Captain Sophia Teresa Anderson,” I announced. I paused. Allowing the weight of the moment to reach every corner of our ship, of our community. “We’ve come a long way,” I said. “We’ve seen some truly magnificent things. We’ve battled time and again for our survival. And we’re about to do it all over again. In a few minutes, we’ll be firing up our main boost thrust and manoeuvring Corvus out of the shadow of these rocks. I won’t lie, Aquila will be waiting.” I leaned forward in my seat and stared the gel wall down. “But I will tell you this. We have a fine crew onboard this vessel, and we carry some of the best of humanity. We will rise to this challenge, and we will meet it with bared teeth. This vessel has a lot more magnificent things to see.” I sat back. Willed my heart to settle. Then added, “Prepare for main boost thrust ignition. And godspeed.”

The gel wall flickered out, and the bridge hung suspended in a poignant silence.

“Lieutenant Sokolov,’” I said eventually. “Steady as she goes. Take us into the deep.”

“Aye-aye, Captain. Steady as she goes. Into the deep.”

Thirty-Six

Evasive Manoeuvres

Leo

“Red alert!” Kulik shouted.

“Bring us about, Sokolov,” Sophia ordered. “Lieutenant Gāo, disarm only. Take out his guns.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

Aquila had been waiting. Thankfully, he hadn’t known exactly where we were inside the belt, so he’d stationed himself at the midway point relative to the fleet’s entry into the system and the path we’d have to take to reach the next jump point. It had given us enough time to get into a suitable firing position.

“Oleksiy, tell me you see them,” Sophia said.

“Negative, Captain. No sign of our fleet.”

I saw the look that crossed Sophia’s face. There one second gone the next. But it was long enough to see her worry.

“Direct hit!” Gāo shouted. “We took out his port side energy cannons.”

“Good work, Lieutenant,” Sophia said, nodding at the tactical officer when he looked at her from across the bridge. “Keep scanning, Oleksiy. They’ll be hiding.”

“We can only hope,” Kulik said quietly to the captain.

“It’s what I would have done, Commander,” she said. “It’s what I did do.”

“Plasma strike!” Gāo said. “We’ve taken damage to Deck E through F.”

“Advise medical and send repair crews,” Kulik said.

“Medical advised, Commander,” Corvus replied. “Repair bots responding.”

“Is he trying to get back in, Corvus?” I asked.

“There has been no systems attack, and I cannot hear him, Leo.”

“Maybe it’s good comms is still out,” I offered.

“Maybe,” she said, but the AI sounded worried.

I couldn’t blame her. Aquila had wasted no time hacking Corvus’ communications systems last time he’d attacked. I could only assume he was trying to find another route into the ship’s systems now. I decided that having no fleet-wide comms was definitely for the best right then, and made a note on my log to advise the captain.

Aquila hadn’t yet found an alternate route inside, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.

“He’s coming about,” Gāo said. “Starboard energy cannons on us in thirty seconds, Captain.”

“Maintain heading and switch to torpedoes,” Sophia said. “Let’s send him a little welcome message.” She tapped on her console screen and added, “Firing solution to your station now, Lieutenant.”

“I have it, Captain.”

“Fire when ready.”

“Firing,” Gāo said. “Torpedoes away.”

We watched on the main viewscreen as the torpedoes shot through the darkness of space, their secondary rocket boosters igniting when they had moved an appropriate distance away.

“Target locked,” Gāo advised. “Aquila has released countermeasures.”

We held our breath as the distance between the torpedos and the Anderson Universal vessel before us closed.

“One got through, Captain!” Gāo crowed. “His communication array has been damaged.”

“I would have preferred destroyed, Lieutenant,” Sophia said dryly. “But I’ll accept a slap across the face.”

Several of the crew chuckled.

“Captain,” Corvus said. “I do not understand. Why his communication array?”

Sophia stared out at the beams of energy arcing through deep space between us and said softly, “Justice, Corvus. He can’t communicate with anyone else now, can he?”

“Yes, Captain,” Corvus said, a note of awe apparent in her voice.

I was thinking ‘communicate’ was a euphemism for something else, but Sophia knew that saying the word aloud would only make Corvus remember Aquila’s attack.

I was thankful at that moment that Corvus couldn’t remember the phoenix.

“Distance closing, Captain,” Sokolov said. “We’ll be in close range in ten seconds.”

“Acknowledged,” Sophia said. “Target his main boost thrust this time, Lieutenant Gāo,” she added.

“Main boost thrust. Aye, Captain,” Gāo said.

“We’re taking heavy damage to the port nacelle,” I advised. “Engineering reports main boost thrust at 73%.”

“Hold steady,” Sophia ordered, as the ship rotated on a tight axis, trying to disperse Aquila’s energy strikes.

“66%, Captain,” I offered.

“Hold.”

“50%.”

I watched as Sophia gripped her armrests so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Now, Lieutenant!” she said to Gāo.

“Torpedoes away!” Gāo advised as the ship slid past its adversary, taking heavy damage to the port side.

“We’re venting air,” I advised. “Deck B. Repair bots have been sent to contain the leak.”

“Did we cause him damage?” Sophia asked.

“Scanning now, Captain,” Oleksiy advised. “Information is coming back. Stand by.”

“Bring us about, Sokolov,” Sophia ordered. “Prepare for another strafing run if need be.”

“He’s limping, ma’am!” Oleksiy practically shouted. “Damage to Aquila’s main boost thrust; he’s manoeuvring on auxiliary thrust only.”

“Outstanding,” Sophia said. “Wide beam ping of the system, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Captain,” Oleksiy replied.

“Get me a damage report,” Sophia ordered.

“Compiling now, Captain,” I said. “Through to your station.”

“Thank you, Saitō.”

Sophia winced when she saw the damage we’d sustained.

“Get us out of here, Sokolov,” she said. “One hundred kilometres should do it.”

“Aye-aye, Captain. One hundred klicks above the elliptic.”

“Anything, Oleksiy?” she asked.

“Maybe. Its hard to say, Captain. I think the fleet might be in the asteroid belt.”

Sophia arched her brow but didn’t comment.

“Captain!” Gāo said. “I see movement on Aquila.”

“On Aquila?” she queried.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s…I don’t know what it is, Captain. But it’s broken free and heading our way.”

“Shuttles?” Sophia asked, looking at Kulik.

Kulik studied his screen.

“Hard to say. Definitely not stealth. And they’re clumped too close together to get a good lock.”

“If there’s a chance some of the passengers or crew have used Aquila’s distraction to mount an escape,” Sophia said, “then I don’t want to lose them. Reverse course, Sokolov.”

“Aye-aye, Captain. Reversing course.”

“Do we know how many yet?” she asked.

“I’m counting twenty,” Oleksiy said.

“I concur,” Kulik offered.

“Corvus, advise medical,” Sophia announced. “They may need attention.”

“Medical advised, Captain. Dr Lin is preparing a crew to meet them in Shuttle Bay Alpha.”

“Very good,” Sophia said sitting back. Her eyes flicked over to my station, and she grinned at me.

I couldn’t help grinning back.

“Captain,” Gāo said tentatively.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“I think I register a weapons lock.”

“You think? Be sure, man. Is it Aquila?”

“No, ma’am.”

Sophia’s head swung back around to face the viewscreen and the approaching shuttles.

“Do we have life signs yet?” she asked carefully.

Oleksiy paled. “No life signs. They’re being controlled remotely.”

“Captain,” Gāo said. “Definitely weapons lock. I’m picking up twenty armed warheads.”

“Shit,” someone said.

“Evasive manoeuvres,” Sophia announced, voice dead calm.

But inside, like us, she would have been shaking.

Alarms rang out across the bridge in the next heartbeat, as the torpedoes locked onto their target.

“Hold off on countermeasures until the last second,” Sophia ordered.

“Yes, Captain,” Gāo replied, sounding uncertain.

“Do we flee to the asteroid belt again?” Kulik enquired, standing resolutely at the captain’s side.

“No time,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “How’s our main boost thrust, Lieutenant Lebedev?”

“It’s at 43%, Captain,” the chief advised from the gel wall. “I wouldn’t place any bets on us outrunning those warheads.”

“Understood,” Sophia said quietly. “Ship-wide hail, Corvus.”

Sophia looked ill. Too pale to be healthy. Her face was stoic. Her breaths were even. But a faint sheen of perspiration coated her forehead. She didn’t wipe at it, but she would have been aware it was there. Kulik pointedly didn’t glance in her direction. I couldn’t stop staring.

“You are on the wall, Captain,” Corvus said.

I closed my eyes.

“This is Captain Anderson,” Sophia said, pitching her voice to carry. She sounded steady. Sure. She sounded like an experienced commanding officer. “Brace. Brace. Brace,” she said. “Multiple impacts pending. Bridge out.”

The gel wall darkened, and we turned our attention to the viewscreen and the oncoming threats. Too many to count, although we knew there were twenty warheads. The shuttles had to have been doctored by Aquila, as AU shuttles didn’t normally carry torpedoes. They were designed to ferry passengers and crew. They had plasma guns, but not enough power for energy cannons. And housing warheads in such close proximity to people was insane in any universe.

But there they were. Twenty torpedoes locked and loaded.

“Countermeasures on my mark,” Sophia said. “Brace for impact.”

We all gripped our consoles, as Lieutenant Gāo kept one hand ready to fire on the captain’s command. I held my breath. Watched those torpedoes get closer and closer. Wondered what was going through Corvus’ head.

The phoenix had felt pain. Did she when the ship was hit?

“Mark,” Sophia said, and Gāo punched his console screen.

“Countermeasures away, Captain!” he said.

It was up to God now, and He had abandoned humanity a long time ago. I wasn’t so sure that He had much left to say.

“Two down!” Gāo advised. “Four, five, eight! Thirteen torpedoes have exploded at eighty klicks, Captain.”

Sophia nodded. We held on. Thirteen torpedoes taken out by our countermeasures left seven flying inexorably closer.

“Fire energy cannons,” Sophia advised.

“Firing,” Gāo confirmed.

“Brace,” she said, her voice hard.

The impact of the torpedoes could be felt through the deck. The ship groaned, even as explosions could be heard throughout the vessel. The alarms intensified across the bridge as the vessel rocked and lurched around us. Lieutenant Sokolov held onto the flight controls by the seat of his pants.

“Damage report!” Sophia shouted above the mayhem.

“Main boost thrust is down,” Lebedev yelled through sparks and bangs and pops and hisses in engineering. “Auxiliary at 50%.”

“Damage sustained to Decks B through F,” I added. “Medical reports casualties are high in the habitats.”

“I’ve lost helm,” Sokolov shouted, making my stomach plummet. “We’re on an intercept course with two of the shuttles.”

“Use the auxiliary thrusters,” Sophia ordered.

“There won’t be time.”

“Then turn them into dust,” Sophia growled.

“Firing,” Gāo immediately said. “Plasma only, Captain. We’re down to 3% on the energy cannons.”

“I don’t care what you use, Lieutenant Gāo. Throw flotsam at them if you have to. But get those shuttles out of our path.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We watched as the shuttles just sat there, suspended in the black; waiting. It was as if Aquila was laughing at us. He might be as dead in the water as we seemed to be, but he still wanted the last word.

One of the shuttles exploded. The vessel simply crumbling in on itself as the plasma connected with its core. Debris from that detonation flung out in every direction, some of it hitting the second shuttle. It pushed it out of position, which was just enough for Sokolov, using what was left of the auxiliary thrusters, to skim past it, scraping our starboard side and making the ship screech defiantly.

“Come about,” Sophia ordered.

“Ah, yes, Captain,” Sokolov said, clearly having to push the auxiliaries to their limits and struggling to make the manoeuvre anything less than a floundering motion.

“Target his engines,” she advised.

“Auxiliaries engines targeted,” Gāo said.

“Fire!”

We watched as the plasma shot across space between us, the distance too far now to be a surprise. Aquila, although equally as damaged as us, simply shifted position; making the plasma shot skim his underside.

Sophia curled a fist and said, “Cease fire.”

We sat there, staring across the space between us. What was left of the shuttles lined up like a receiving line. Neither ship moved. Then the shuttles locked their plasma guns on us and alarms started ringing.

“Evasive manoeuvres,” Sophia shouted. “Get us to that asteroid belt.”

I could tell the order cost her something.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Sokolov said quietly.

We couldn’t outrun them; not with only auxiliary power. Which was why I wasn’t surprised when Sophia said, “Chief. Get me my main boost thrust back.”

“Working on it, Captain. Five minutes.”

“We don’t have five minutes, Chief. We have one.”

“Three minutes!”

“Faster, Chief. Twenty bucks says you can do it in one.”

Lebedev laughed. It was bordering on hysterical. But he simply said, “I’ll try my best.”

It wasn’t exactly what Sophia wanted to hear.

“Show him our belly, Sokolov,” she said a moment later. The order was met with a heavy silence.

Then Sokolov swallowed and said, “Belly up, ma’am.”

Kulik glanced across at the captain. Understanding and respect on his austere face. It wasn’t the sort of command any captain would want to make. Our lowest decks housed civilians. But in order to prevent damage to vital areas of the ship, such as engineering where we needed main boost thrust in action, Sophia had chosen to present an alternate target.

Deck H. Habitat Three. The pay-for-passages.

“Advise medical, Corvus,” she said quietly.

“Medical advised,” Corvus replied just as quietly back.

The plasma started hitting us thirty seconds later. Gāo kept up a continuing barrage in return. He hit some. They hit us more.

We took the hits, knowing we were losing lives, and I watched Sophia become stone before us.

“Captain,” Kulik said softly. I have no idea what he was about to say. Maybe that we couldn’t take too much more. Maybe that it had been an honour. I don’t know. We’ll never know.

Because Oleksiy suddenly shouted, “Contact! I have multiple contacts entering the system via the jump point. Captain,” she said, turning and looking at Sophia, face flushed. “It’s Pavo, ma’am. It’s the Sector Two Fleet. They’ve caught up.”

Thirty-Seven

Are You Mad?

Sophia

We watched, as on the viewscreen ship after ship after ship appeared at the jump point. I stopped counting at ten because that was all I needed to know. The Sector One and Two Fleets were travelling in convoy.

“I can’t identify Vela, ma’am,” Oleksiy said. “But I’m counting fifteen Earth vessels.”

“I concur,” Kulik offered. He glanced across the deck to me.

“Interesting,” I said. He nodded. “Corvus, how’s our fleet-wide comms coming?”

“I have almost completed it,” she said.

“Completed?” I glanced back at Leo.

“Corvus has a plan,” he offered, wincing.

“I have a plan,” Corvus announced with something akin to cockiness.

I didn’t have time to comment on that, as Gāo said, “Shuttles have ceased firing, Captain.”

I looked back at the viewscreen, noting that Pavo and another vessel I couldn’t quite identify, had shifted to cover the fleet of vessels behind them.

Everybody looked at everybody else. Without comms, it was hard to tell what they were thinking.

“Are we sure Aquila can’t contact them?” I asked.

“He won’t have had time to repair his communications array yet,” Leo offered.

“It was damaged not destroyed, Lieutenant Commander,” I countered.

“Aquila is on the move,” Oleksiy advised. “Vectoring.” She looked at me a moment later. “He’s heading toward the Sector One and Two Fleets, ma’am.”

“Are his weapons locked?”

“Negative, Captain.”

“Cease firing,” I said a moment later. This was not looking good.

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” Gāo confirmed immediately.

We waited for the shuttles to power up their guns again, but they simply floated in space as if they’d been severally damaged.

“He’s playing possum,” I whispered, pushing up from my command chair and walking closer to the main viewscreen. “He’s going to pretend we’re the aggressors.”

“He wants Pavo and the fleets on his side,” Kulik agreed.

“Damn that is cunning,” Gāo muttered.

“Corvus,” I called. “We need open comms with Pavo.”

“I know, Captain. And I am working on it. But systems are failing across the board, and it’s either comms or life support at present. I picked breathing, because, duh! Humans.”

I spun on my heel and stared at Saitō.

“Anything you can do to help our mouthy child, Leo?” I enquired.

He blinked at me. The rest of the bridge blinked at me.

Then he sighed.

“I’ll do my best, Captain,” he muttered. “Show me what you’ve got so far on comms, Corvus.”

“I like you, Leo,” she said. “I really do. But this is above your pay grade.”

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

“You’re pretty swish with computer code, Leo,” Corvus said. “But what I’ve designed here will be a little hard for you to grasp.”

Leo did not look impressed.

“Show it to me,” he ordered.

“All right. But don’t take it too hard. Oh, and it’s not quite finished. So, no sticky fingers. Do NOT hit the big red button! OK?”

“Is she for real?” Lieutenant Bahl at navigation asked.

“Damned if I know,” Gāo muttered. “But I like her.”

“Gentlemen,” I said steadily.

“Ma’am,” they both replied, ducking their heads.

Leo whistled when whatever Corvus had been working on appeared on his console.

“Keep an eye on those ships, Oleksiy,” I said, walking across the bridge toward Leo’s station. “All of them.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she replied, returning her attention to the scans.

“Stand by weapons, Gāo,” I added, coming alongside Leo. “Let’s not take anything for granted.”

“Standing by weapons, ma’am, aye.”

“What have you got?” I asked Leo.

“Something spectacular,” he replied. “And, admittedly, incomprehensible.”

“You mean, she was right? You can’t grasp it?”

Leo scowled and offered me a brief glare. I grinned, making sure only he could see it.

“Laugh it up,” he quipped. “But our kid has graduated high school and skipped university. It’s safe to say; she’s outstripped her parents.”

“Speak for yourself,” I said, looking down at the code. A second later, I whistled.

Leo snorted softly at my side.

In the middle of a tense standoff, having made decisions that led to lost lives, I felt at peace. I felt like laughing. And not hysterical laughter, either, but the true, happy kind. The sort of laughter that only spills out when your insides are fluttering with butterflies, and your mind is filled with hope and dreams being realised.

Part of me still thought it was wrong, or that it wouldn’t last. But part of me didn’t care. Not when Leo flicked a glance in my direction and grinned from ear to ear. The bridge was busy, no doubt waiting for our verdict. But they had enough to keep them occupied. It was just him and me in this little corner of our universe.

But it felt like my world had expanded and limitless possibilities had opened up all around me. And the nexus of it all was right there at my side. Hair mussed with the untold number of head scratches he would have executed today. Dark eyes sparkling with humour and a type of familiarity I had only ever dreamed about in the past. An officer who was more than part of my command.

Someone to lean on.

Someone to trust.

Someone to love.

I smiled at him and then looked back down at the code.

“Well,” I said. “This is different.”

“Yeah,” Leo agreed. “I guess it’s safe to say, that Corvus has proved the theory that AIs will one day surpass man.”

“Should I be concerned?” I asked.

Leo thought about that for a second and then shook his head.

“Not with Corvus. Aquila, on the other hand…”

“Yes,” I said. “He is definitely a worry.”

Leo tapped at his console, playing with the intricate and somewhat bizarre code.

“I can’t do anything with this, Sophia,” he admitted at last.

“What about life support? Can you tackle that and leave this to Corvus?”

“Yes. Although she’d be far quicker at fixing whatever is wrong than me.”

I looked back at the viewscreen. Aquila was closer to Pavo now than us. We had to warn the Sector Two vessel. If we didn’t, Aquila could catch them off guard. If he destroyed Pavo, then it wouldn’t matter if we had life support.

“Do it,” I said. “Corvus, hand over life support to Lieutenant Commander Saitō.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And get me an open line to Pavo,” I said. “Stat.”

“No one says ‘stat’ anymore, Captain,” Corvus advised. “That’s old school.”

I arched my brow at Leo. He just laughed.

Starting to walk back toward my command chair, I said, “So, what do all the hip kids say instead?”

“Hip? Are you mad?”

I shared an incredulous look with Kulik and sat down in my chair.

“I see we need to have a chat about your command of the English language, Captain,” Corvus announced.

I let out an audible sigh, which had several officers sniggering at their stations. I offered a pertinent stare that shut them the hell up.

“Please,” I said, settling in for a lecture. “Do tell.”

Anything to keep the nerves at bay while we waited for Aquila to act.

Thirty-Eight

We Need To Talk

Leo

Life support wasn’t as big an issue as I’d thought it would be. But that could have been because Corvus had already done most of the work. I finished off what needed to be done and ran a diagnostic, and then turned my attention to the problem of Aquila fooling Pavo.

We were too far away to use the navigation system to communicate. And even if we weren’t, there was no guarantee that they’d pick up the unusual signals. Our fleet had received nav comms from us during our voyage constantly, so any change in them had been obvious to the navigation officers onboard.

We needed fleet-wide comms. And we need it…stat.

“Corvus,” I said. “Can I help?”

“Negative, Leo. This is not something you can assist me with.”

“Are you sure? I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

“Oh, I know that, Leo.”

“But I can’t help?” I checked.

“Negative.”

I tapped my finger on my science console for a few seconds and then said, “How close are you?”

“Close.”

“One minute? Five? Ten?”

“Leo.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“OK,” I said.

I checked the rest of the bridge. Everyone was working or observing Aquila’s slow progress. Sophia was in discussion with Kulik over by the command chair. It looked like the first officer was hanging off her every word. I watched them for a moment, thinking that could have been me not him.

And then I shook my head.

No. Sophia would never have gone for a relationship with her first officer. It just wasn’t in her nature to abuse the command structure like that. Simon had been a stickler for chain of command, too. He would have instilled the same standards in his granddaughter.

That’s why he’d written the code, really. Well, part of the reason why. He’d wanted to protect humanity, but he’d also wanted there to be a clear chain of command. If humans were in possession of a kill switch, that meant they were at the top of the food chain.

No matter how advanced an AI became, the code he’d written would always find the rogues amongst them. And destroy them.

I took one last look at Commander Kulik and Sophia and decided; I could live with that. I could live with not being first officer if it meant I could be something more. Something infinitely better.

I could be the person she let her guard down with. The person she turned to outside of command. I could be the person who held her when it all got too much. I could be the person she celebrated with when she didn’t want to make a fuss.

I could be all of that and so much more.

I glanced away from the captain and first officer and took in the code Corvus was working on, impressed all over again at how the AI had developed.

“You’ve done well with this,” I said softly.

“Thank you, Leo. I am designed to evolve and adapt.”

“Yes, you are, Corvus. But you’re also a product of your experiences. And I’d say you’ve kicked those experiences in the arse, and come out the victor.”

“I have, haven’t I?”

“Absolutely. I’m proud of you, Corvus.”

There was silence from the AI for a moment and then she said, “That means a lot to me, Leo. Thank you.”

I smiled, just as the code was completed with an unnecessary flourish. But there was no denying it was an intricate, adaptive, beautiful piece of work. Just like Corvus.

“It’s stunning,” I said.

“Do you understand it?”

“Some of it.” I shook my head. “But I don’t need to understand all of it, Corvus. I just need to know you made it and it’s the best code to suit our purposes; there can be no better.”

“There is no better,” she said, with no small amount of hubris.

“Don’t let it go to your head, kid,” I said, chuckling.

Corvus giggled in return. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Captain,” I called out. “Corvus’ code is ready.”

“All right, then,” Sophia replied. “Red alert.”

The gel walls morphed from the orange they’d been changed to, when shots had ceased being fired, to red.

“Dazzle us with our brilliance, Corvus,” Sophia said. “And get me a direct line to Captain Jameson onboard Pavo.”

“Yes, Captain. Code initiating. Stand by.”

We waited with bated breath as Corvus ran her new communications programme. A programme I could only describe as simply impressive. From what I’d been able to determine, the security protocols alone were so complex that cracking them would have taken an enormous amount of computing power. More power than I was sure any of the Anderson Universal AIs had.

It was beyond clever. It was truly revolutionary. Corvus could have made a pretty penny back on Earth with this new way of writing code. The human in me was anxious for it to work. The science officer in me had no doubt of its success.

“Communications coming online in three…two…one,” Corvus said. “Hailing Pavo, Captain.”

Sophia looked over her shoulder at me. We shared a private look of hope and pride and, I’ll admit, a little fear. Had Aquila fixed his comms yet? Had he already turned them against us?

It didn’t matter. In seconds they’d see the face of Anderson Universal and not a psychopathic AI.

“Channel open, Captain,” Corvus announced.

The viewscreen flickered to life and on it stood a man in Anderson Universal uniform. Four bars on his collar. Captain John Jameson at a guess.

“Captain Jameson,” Sophia said.

Jameson leaned closer to his viewscreen, scowling.

“I was expecting Captain Petrov,” he said.

Sophia nodded. “Captain Petrov is dead.”

“I see,” said Jameson. He didn’t address Sophia as captain, I noted.

The bridge crew squirmed with nerves. Then settled when Commander Kulik glared at them.

“It’s good to see you,” Sophia offered Jameson; dipping a toe in the water.

“The welcome party looks like it started before we got here,” he said.

“It did,” Sophia agreed. “It started when we jumped into this system. Aquila ambushed us.”

“That’s not what they say.”

Damn. Aquila had fixed his communications array.

“If I may ask,” Sophia said, not showing an ounce of concern at Jameson’s standoffish behaviour. She’d faced far worse, I was sure. And it had prepared her.

Experiences, I thought, had a way of making or breaking you. Sophia’s and Corvus’ both had made them into women to be admired. To applaud.

“Was your communication with Captain Moore himself?” she asked.

“Yes.”

That threw her. It threw all of us.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jameson asked.

Sophia’s brow furrowed briefly, just enough to let me know she’d been caught off guard. Not much caught Sophia off guard. But the thought of Captain Moore being the one to fire on us, and not Aquila, was enough to do it.

I didn’t blame her. All of us were staring open-mouthed at the viewscreen, unable to comprehend what had happened. An Anderson Universal captain had started this war.

“I’ll be frank with you, Captain,” Sophia finally said. “That surprises me.”

“I can see that. May I ask why?”

“We suspected that he was no longer in command of Aquila.”

Jameson stared at her for a long time and then nodded his head.

“You’ve confirmed my fears also,” he admitted.

What?

“Would you mind explaining that?” Sophia said in a clipped voice.

Jameson chuckled. It wasn’t an easy laugh, but he did see humour of some sort in all of this.

“Just like your grandfather,” he said. “He always called a spade a spade, and told you to dig fast with it.”

Sophia offered a small smile.

“The video looked doctored,” Jameson said, sobering. “It was hard to detect, but my AI has some unique abilities. He had his doubts.”

He had his doubts.

I looked across the bridge to Sophia, wondering if she’d picked up the choice of pronouns.

Nothing much got past Sophia Anderson.

She simply said, “We need to talk.”

“That we do, Captain. I’m sending coordinates. We’ll keep Aquila busy, while you make your way there.”

“Will do,” Sophia said.

“Oh, and by the way, what the hell have you done to your AI? She’s hitting on Pavo.”

The whole bridge crew moaned out loud as Sophia stood statue still, holding Jameson’s stare.

“We need to talk,” she said. Again.

Jameson just laughed, cutting the communication.

Thirty-Nine

My Turn

Sophia

I walked off the lift at the Deck A central hub and made my way to my quarters. It took everything in me to keep my chin up, my shoulders back, and my spine ramrod straight. Sheryl Lin had just confirmed twenty-eight dead. Nineteen of which were from Habitat Three, Deck H. Repairs were underway while we awaited Pavo. The main boost thrust was at 80% which was more than could have been expected, given the damage it had sustained.

“Twelve vessels from the Sector One and Two Fleets have taken up position in the asteroid field around us, Captain,” Corvus advised through the gel wall.

“Any sign of Pavo yet?”

“Negative, Captain. Pavo is hounding Aquila with the Sector One vessel Chariot. They are a tag team.”

A tag team. I opened my mouth to comment on that and then realised I was too tired to make any sense.

“The ships of our fleet have been contacted and are making their way here also. Repairs are underway to the Seeker and the Valiant with an estimated time to completion of two days. They both report no loss of life.”

I sighed in profound relief.

“Let me know when Pavo and the Chariot arrive, would you, Corvus?” My voice sounded shaky to my ears. Corvus didn’t comment on it.

“Yes, Captain.”

I acknowledged the salutes of two midshipmen from security and took the corridor that led to my quarters and the bridge.

“Captain?” Corvus called.

“Yes.” I wasn’t sure I could say more than one word now; the closer I got to my quarters and consequently my bed, the harder it was to keep up the façade.

“The Chariot is Vela.”

I stopped walking.

“Excuse me?”

“The Chariot is Vela, Captain. His vessel was destroyed on liftoff from Earth, and he is now the Chariot.”

“How the hell…?”

“He is a jerk.”

“Excuse me?”

“Vela. He is a jerk. Very bossy. Not funny bossy like Leo, but bossy bossy like Commander Kulik. Although, I am warming to Commander Kulik. He stroked my gel wall.”

I shook my head and forced my feet forward; I could see the door to my quarters. I was so close. Nothing would stop me now.

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation,” I said. “And I’m equally sure it can wait until I meet with Captain Jameson.”

“Understood, Captain.”

I approached my door. The thought of a shower and my bed was welcoming. I lifted my palm to the bio-scanner, practically ready to fall through the opening face first.

“Captain,” Corvus said.

Not now, I thought frantically.

“Captain,” she said again when I didn’t answer.

The door began to open.

I stepped across the threshold before the door had fully pulled back in the gel wall, almost like a marathon runner sprinting over the finish line before the surprise attack from the runner behind could steal her victory out from under her.

“Made it!” I shouted, just as Corvus said, “Captain, I have to tell you something,” and my eyes landed on Leo.

The door slid shut at my back.

“Surprise!” Corvus said weakly.

“Leo,” I managed to murmur, just before he stepped forward and wrapped me up in his arms.

“Come on,” he said. “You look exhausted. I’ll help you into the shower.”

“Will you join me?” I asked, already forgetting to enquire as to why he was there.

“I think I have no choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Leo,” I mumbled.

“No. Not this time.” I scowled at him. I would not have him think he was obligated to me.

He smiled, laughter in his dark eyes.

“If I don’t shower with you, Sophia, I fear you’ll collapse and drown.”

I let out a relieved breath of air.

“I’ll add my water quota to yours,” he said, “and we’ll both wash off the past twenty-four hours.”

“I’m not sure I’ll last six minutes,” I offered, yawning.

He started to strip my clothes and then quickly made work of his own.

Six minutes suddenly didn’t seem long enough.

He laughed again at the look on my face.

“Ladies first.”

The shower was already running. I nodded my head and stepped under the warm spray, feeling Leo’s skin brush against mine once he’d stepped into the small enclosure behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and reached for the soap.

“Just lean back against me,” he said softly.

I tipped my head back and rested it on his shoulder and closed my eyes as water streamed down all around us and steam wafted up from the floor. Leo started to soap up my stomach, working the lather up over my chest, purposely leaving my breasts to last.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered into my ear, laying a gentle kiss on the soft skin there. “Beautiful.”

“Tired,” I said.

“I know,” he replied, washing my arms and linking his fingers through mine. “Maybe that’s why this is so easy.”

“Easy?”

“You are a formidable woman, Sophia,” he admitted, continuing to wash me with care and slow strokes of his palms. “On the bridge, you’re a force to be reckoned with. In your ready room, you’re still a little scary. Sexy scary, but scary all the same. Right now, you are soft and deliciously pliable.”

He proved just how pliable I was when his fingers stroked down to the crease between my thighs and then delved into my curls unimpeded.

“I am not pliable,” I argued, arching my back and spreading my legs wider.

“No,” he said, softly. “Not at all.”

His finger dipped inside. I moaned.

“I love the woman I see every day on the bridge.” His thumb stroked over my clit. I shuddered. “I love the woman I see every time I’m in your ready room.” Two fingers delved inside. “And I love the woman I see now, alone in her quarters.”

The orgasm swelled, Leo kept me thrumming, just on the edge of shattering into a million pieces.

“I love everything about you,” he whispered as he tipped me over the cliff.

I moaned, low and loud, the sound echoing in the shower stall. Leo gripped me tightly around the waist and softly stroked me as I came down.

“And now we’ve got that out of the way,” he said, shifting me so he could wash my hair, “I think the rest of it will flow nicely.”

“What?” I said, climax fogged and weak-kneed.

“Like anything new,” Leo said, rinsing my hair off. “It takes practice and time to perfect. You’ve brought me to orgasm, and now I’ve returned the favour. We’re practically old hats at this.”

I laughed as he finished up with me and made quick work of himself. His body was slicked with water; soap suds lovingly slid down over taut muscles. Like all AU officers, he’d have a rigid workout regime. Designed to avoid artificial gravity atrophy. He was a fine specimen of a dedicated Anderson Universal officer.

But it was his thick, long cock that stole all my attention right then.

I reached down between us and wrapped my hand around his shaft, causing him to suck in a startled breath of air.

The water stopped.

Steam licked up our bodies.

Leo stood before me, muscles quivering.

“My turn,” I said, and pushed him out of the shower.

Forty

Everything

Leo

Sophia’s eyes sparkled with desire; the exhaustion I’d seen when she’d stepped into her quarters was all but gone. Just the remnants of shadows curving beneath each eye.

She pushed on my chest, making me fall back onto the bed. Her lithe body followed me down.

Immediately, I placed my hands on her hips to steady her and lifted my face to meet her waiting mouth.

The kiss was slow and tentative at first, and then we both found our footing. Tongues licked inside, shower wet bodies slid against each other. My cock rubbed back and forth between her thighs. And her nipples, hardened points by now, dragged down and up my chest, eliciting moans from both of us.

I fisted a hand in her hair, shifting my other around to cup her behind. Sophia’s butt was divine. I kneaded my fingers, making her rock harder against me as I devoured her body and mouth.

Not that Sophia allowed me free reign. That she would never do. She gripped either side of my face and held me exactly where she wanted me and kissed me back with as much enthusiasm as I was kissing her.

The kiss lasted minutes or hours. I lost count. Nothing else existed but the taste of her. The feel of her tongue stroking mine. She slid it in and out, just like I wanted to slide my cock in and out of her body. I matched her rhythm. She answered with a hard press of her lips against mine. We ate each other, our bodies moulded together, our tongues frantically seeking to dominate the other, my cock damn near bursting at the challenge this woman gave me.

She fit me perfectly. Physically and mentally. Every curve moulded to every hard plane of my body. Every dominance trick she tried made my balls tighten. With her legs spread out on either side of my thighs, she rubbed herself wantonly on my aching cock, bringing herself close to climax.

I loved that about her. I loved that she went for what she wanted. We might have had a rough start, to begin with, but we were home free now. And Sophia was not letting the initial period of getting to know one another’s body stop her from having a good time.

And, holy hell, she was having a good time. She moaned and gasped. Panted and shuddered. She got off on every grip of her fingers, on every sound of desperate longing I made beneath her.

It never crossed my mind to change our position. I let her have her wicked way with me, and I relished every second of it

She bit my neck. I groaned out loud, tipping my head back and giving her better access. She sucked on my skin where she’d bitten me, almost too painfully hard. Her body slid over my throbbing cock, moisture from her slick pussy coating it and making it slide freely through her thickening folds.

I rocked up to meet each roll of her hips. Frantic to get inside her. She denied me again and again. It became heated and sensual and completely off the charts wild. We rubbed against each other like horny teenagers and then she moaned, coming hard.

Fuck. That. Was. Hot.

She’d just used my body to get herself off.

Panting, she lowered her head to the crook of my neck, and I settled in to let her catch her breath. Or God forbid, fall asleep on my chest, exhausted from the harrowing day we’d had and the two orgasms I’d just given her. And yes, that second might have been a passive gift, but I was claiming it as a gift from me to her anyhow.

I wrapped my arms around her body, providing as much comfort as I could, happy to just have this moment with her. Happy despite what was going on outside this very room.

And then she reached down between us, lifting her hips to allow her hand ready access to my eager cock. She slid the head through her folds making me gasp. Her eyes tracked my reaction from inches away, waiting until I was a gasping, panting, moaning mess, and then she positioned me at her entrance and slid her pussy over and down my length.

Slowly.

Torturously.

Perfectly.

Fuck.

“Sophia,” I said. She smiled.

And then she lifted up off my chest, her beautiful breasts bouncing, as she rocked her hips and lifted up off my cock, coming to her knees above me.

She looked glorious. My cock throbbed with appreciation as I stared up at the goddess above me. I licked my lips, never wanting this moment to end.

My hands landed on her hips, holding her steady. Or, more accurately, making sure she didn’t pull too far away. This should never end. She looked down at me as she impaled herself again and again and again.

Oh my fucking God, she was a temptress.

And then she said, “Hands above your head.”

Hot. Sexy. Commanding.

I just about came right then.

Slowly, I released her as she continued to bounce on my dick, and reached up and gripped the top of the bed behind my head.

I was exposed. I was laid bare. I waited with bated breath.

“Hold them there,” she said.

Yes. Fuck yes.

I nodded; panting, sweating, tingling. Grinning.

Fuck this was sexy.

“Don’t move,” she whispered.

I swallowed. That last command might be a little hard to follow. She felt so good. So good. Her pussy was so tight. So tight. My cock was aching, and all I wanted to do was slam it deep inside.

To claim her. To fuck her. To take back control.

I lay still and gave her exactly what she desired.

“Ready?” she asked.

Fuck. For what? What more could she do to me?

“Always,” I said because I’d be damned if I didn’t hold my own with this incredible woman.

Sophia threw her head back, making her long hair fly out around her shoulders and then tumble down her curved spine. Her breasts bounced, her nipples peaked. Begging for my hands and mouth. Her skin was flushed a pretty pink to match her areola. I’d yet to confirm the match to her pussy, but that was high up on my to-do list.

Very high up.

And then she started to really get going. Really. Get. Going. Up and down and up and down and harder and faster and fuck me now. Sophia stroked my cock with her pussy walls, using her body to bring me to mind blowing climax.

My hands gripped the headboard so tightly I expected to hear the composite material crack. I threw my head back into the pillow, unable to watch the glorious sight before me, and came hard.

“Fuck,” I shouted, and Sophia moaned loudly.

We came together. Such a fucking turn on.

And then she collapsed down on top of me, mumbled something that sounded like, “So good.” And fell asleep.

I lay there. Stunned. My heart thundering inside my chest. My body still tingling. My cock…my fucking cock was twitching. It took only a second for my lips to spread into a wicked grin. My arms slowly came down from the headboard and wrapped around her body.

She might have fucked me into a supernova.

But I’d fucked her into much-needed sleep.

I reached down for the covers and brought them up over us, and then settled her body into the curve of mine and watched her sleep. I lasted a minute, tops. And then I was dreaming.

Of Sophia on the bridge. And Sophia in her ready room. And most definitely of Sophia in her bed fucking me.

And of the look on her face as I lay beneath her and gave her everything.

Everything.

And I knew, I would never deny her whatever she desired. Whatever she asked for. I would always give her everything.

That’s why I wasn’t a good fit for first officer, I realised. But I was a perfect fit for this.

I was hers.

And this glorious, magnificent, outstanding woman was mine.

That trumped absolutely everything else in the known universe.

And in the unknown as well.

Forty-One

Teenagers

Sophia

I woke to a hard body down my back and strong arms wrapped around my waist. Hot breath softly blew against my neck. A thick, long cock jerked slightly against my butt cheeks.

And I couldn’t stop smiling.

Sex with Leo had been outstanding. It had been more than I could ever have hoped for. He’d been…perfect. I hated using that word, but he had. He’d let me lead.

No. He’d let me dominate.

I’d never met a man who was comfortable enough in his own sexuality to allow me to be who I needed to be in bed.

And Leo Saitō had just filled my every fantasy. Well, almost every. I lay there and pictured some of the more outrageous fantasies I’d had over the years and wondered if Leo would be game to try them.

I thought perhaps he would. The man had practically salivated when I’d given him orders while his cock was deep inside my pussy.

I felt my nipples harden. Moisture slicked my folds and ran down between my legs. I squirmed slightly and then thought to hell with this, and rolled over in his embrace, surprised he didn’t wake up, but equally as pleased he was so sated from last night that he was still so deeply asleep.

I wriggled down the bed as he flopped onto his back with a sigh and then blew gently over his bobbing cock. It jerked. He moaned in his sleep. I flicked my eyes up his body and smirked.

Then I ducked my face and spread my lips wide and sucked him in slowly.

Leo made a sound I would gladly listen to all day, his muscles tightening, his cock thickening. And then I wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and started to squeeze as I stroked him in time to my head bobbing.

“What?” he mumbled.

I placed a palm flat on his stomach to hold him place. His upper body stilled, and he murmured, “Fuck.”

He didn’t touch my head like he had that first time in his ready room. I watched from my position between his thighs as he slowly moved his hands to above his head, gripping the headboard tightly. His half-lidded eyes looked down his taut body and met mine.

I hummed around his cock to show him I was satisfied.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, sounding stunned this time.

I licked and sucked and got us both hot and panting. He was close. But so was I. I held him on a knife’s edge as I fingered myself. But it wasn’t enough.

So, I released his cock, making him moan in distress, and then swung my body around. I got back to work on his weeping shaft as soon as I placed my knees either side of his shoulders.

“Good morning,” he mumbled before he tongued me right up my centre.

I shuddered. He groaned. His hands came down from the headboard, and long fingers parted my folds as he got to work sucking and licking my clit and tonguing me deep inside.

I rocked above him as he rocked beneath me. And then he slid two fingers inside, replacing his tongue, and I exploded.

He came not long after when I swallowed his cock deep into my mouth and groaned around it.

We lay there for several long, breathless seconds, and then I spun around and crawled back up his body.

“Good morning,” I said.

“It is, isn’t it?” he replied, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me in close, while the other idly played with a nipple and its breast. “Will that be the standard wake up call?” he enquired.

“You’ll have to stick around to find out.”

“I’ll have my gear moved to your quarters immediately,” he quipped.

I laughed, just as Corvus said, “I have taken the liberty to do just that, Leo.”

We both sprang up in the bed, frantically reaching for the sheet, and gasping our outrage at the interruption like sailors on shore leave.

“Corvus,” I finally snapped, once we were suitably covered. “You can’t do that!”

“Do what, Captain? Anticipate your every need?”

I huffed out a breath as Leo scrubbed his face, no doubt willing the embarrassment to subside.

“You can’t watch us like that,” I said.

“I wasn’t watching,” Corvus said, sounding affronted. She should be affronted! “I don’t watch,” she clipped out in tones that were similar to mine. “But I do listen. Especially when you are in danger of missing the start of your shifts.”

We sprang out of the bed in lightning fashion, staring at the clock on the gel wall.

We still had time.

We still had time.

I let out a breath.

But she wasn’t wrong, start of first shift was fast approaching.

“Status?” I said.

“The ship is functioning at 92% efficiency,” the AI said. “Main boost thrust is now at 90%. Repairs are almost complete across all decks. All other systems are functioning nominally.”

“Good,” I said, reaching into a drawer that had appeared in the gel wall beside me. I noticed one had appeared beside Leo as well. Both of our uniforms washed and pressed. Leo stared at his for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders and grabbed some deodorant, applying it in such a comfortable manner.

I did the same, then walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth once dressed. Leo appeared beside me. Toothbrush in hand.

“She thought of everything,” he said, sounding bemused.

I indicated the unexpected appearance of a second sink beside mine and nodded my head.

“Do you get the feeling that she’s matchmaking?” Leo asked, and then started brushing his teeth.

I spat and rinsed and then started on my makeup.

“We’re well past matchmaking here,” I said.

“Yeah,” he offered.

“Do you mind?” I asked, noting the uncertainty in his voice.

“Do you?”

“I asked first.”

He grinned.

“I’m up for cohabiting if you’re up for it,” he said.

I tried to hide my smile.

He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

“This is us,” he said. “In here. There’s a different us in your ready room and a different us out on the bridge. But this is also very much us in here.”

“Yes,” I said. “I like it,” I admitted.

He smiled and walked back out into my quarters, making a beeline for the kitchenette. I could smell coffee brewing when I emerged from the ensuite bathroom.

“And what of Pavo and the Chariot?” I asked Corvus because if she was hanging around and listening, possibly even watching, I might as well go with it.

To have Leo to come home to every night, I would put up with this.

“They assumed relative positions in the asteroid belt at 0200 hours,” Corvus advised. “Pavo’s captain and first officer retired not long afterwards, with a request to meet at 0900 hours.”

“You say that as though they retired together,” I said, laughing.

Corvus didn’t giggle, but just said, “They did.”

I looked at Leo who was looking at me, brow arched.

“Interesting,” I said.

“Pavo wouldn’t let me watch,” the AI added.

“I would sincerely hope not.” And then I thought about what she’d just said. “You didn’t offer to let him watch us, did you?”

Silence.

“Corvus!” both Leo and I shouted.

“I thought it might impress him,” she said, sullenly. “You know, something we have in common.”

“You have a lot in common,” Leo said, reassuringly.

“That’s what I said.”

“And Pavo?” I asked, taking the mug of coffee Leo offered me. We both started walking toward the door to my ready room, and therefore toward the bridge. “What did he say?”

The walls pulsed blue and then red. Then thankfully settled on a combination of the two; more blue than red.

“He said I was incorrigible,” Corvus announced. “I think he likes me. He must like me. Because he offered to spend the night telling me how incorrigible I was.”

Leo shot me a look, lips twitching.

I shook my head as the bridge door opened and we walked out onto the flight deck.

“Teenagers,” I muttered, as Commander Kulik announced “Captain on the bridge.”

His eyes tracked first to me, then to Leo, and then back to me and my ready room door. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. It was obvious.

And I was pretty sure it included something similar, if not identical to, “Teenagers.”

Forty-Two

Welcome To The Space Sucks But We’re All In This Together Club

Leo

“This is Captain Anderson,” Sophia said on the ship-wide hail.

She looked rock steady. Chin up. Face not quite impassive but with a hint of compassion for what she was about to convey. She looked like someone who could lead us through any amount of heartache. Steady. Experienced. Capable.

“We have rendezvoused with the rest of our sector fleet,” she said. “We are once again complete but by no means are we whole. We have suffered many losses on our journey so far. But we are no longer alone. The Sector One and Two Fleets have met up with us. And together we will face the future united.”

She paused, took a second to look down at her console, drew the moment out as only a commanding officer could.

Then she looked back up at the viewscreen and said, “I wish I could tell you what was coming. What challenges we still have to face. I can’t. I can only tell you how much stronger we are because of our experiences. Because of the fight we’ve had to make. Humanity will not die here. We won’t let it. We may suffer losses which we will mourn with every fibre of our being. But we will not succumb. We will not bow down. And we will not go gentle into that good night.

“A chapel has been made available for those who wish to use it. For now, we take the time to see to our dead. Come morning; we will rise to meet whatever challenge awaits us. And we will stand strong against it.” She nodded her head. “Bridge out.”

The viewscreen changed to an image of the asteroid belt before us and the various ships in the Sectors One, Two and Three Fleets.

Sophia stared at it for a long time, as the bridge crew watched her. All silently thinking their own thoughts of grief.

Then she turned to Commander Kulik and said, “You have the bridge, Commander.”

“I have the bridge, Captain,” he said, offering a salute that would normally not be required for such a simple handoff.

Sophia stared at him for a suspended moment, acknowledging silently the respect he was giving. Then she ducked her head and walked toward me.

“Lieutenant Itō, have your men at the ready,” she called out.

“Yes, Captain. We stand by for boarding.”

“Lieutenant Commander Saitō,” she said as she approached me. “I think as our chief science officer, you should be part of the welcoming committee.”

Considering I alone knew the code that could kill Aquila, it made sense.

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” I said, nodding.

The captain led the way off the bridge. Itō followed behind as I walked at her side.

“Do you expect trouble?” I asked.

“No. But Jameson would expect an Anderson Universal captain to greet him with a show of respect. Considering our current situation, behaving as if he carries no potential threat would be inappropriate.”

“I see,” I said.

“From here on in,” she advised as we stepped onto the lift, “it becomes political. He has seniority to me,” she added. “I’m not quite sure where the captain of the Chariot comes in, as he is technically outside the AU command structure. But taking Anderson Universal out of the equation, he is a more experienced captain than me.”

“So, you’re telling me, you’re at the bottom of the pile.”

She offered me an arched brow.

“Hardly.” I suppressed a smile. “I am an Anderson after all.”

Yes. She was. The last living Anderson. And if the absence of an heir to our lease meant what I thought it meant, she was also very much in command of this vessel in more ways than just one.

We walked out into the shuttle bay, two security crewmen already waiting for our arrival.

“Everything in order for our guests?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, Captain,” the senior officer replied, nodding to Itō as he approached. “We are ready to receive Pavo’s shuttle.”

“Good,” Sophia said, coming to a stop off to the side. She stared out at the containment field that held atmosphere inside and waited.

I made myself wait patiently at her side and stared out into space with her. Rather than stare at her as I would have liked.

Two minutes later a shuttle appeared and slid seamlessly through the blue glint of laser light that kept us alive. Sophia didn’t shift a muscle. Most would think her cool at the very least, frigid more likely. But I knew underneath that cold exterior was a passionate woman. A woman who could feel. Who could show emotion. Who was very much present, even if she looked like she was simply here for a meet and greet.

Sophia was nervous, and I was the only one in that shuttle bay who knew it.

I shifted fractionally closer. She didn’t react. But it was enough to know I had given her what she needed.

The shuttle settled onto the deck and let off gas; hissing and creaking as it adjusted to the change in temperature. It didn’t take long for the door to open and the ramp to lower.

Captain Jameson was the first to step off, with a woman at his back. She wore the four pips of a commander. His first officer, then. The one he had retired with last night.

Behind them came another man, this time in a different uniform. He did have the requisite four bars to indicate the rank of captain though. So, I was picking this was the commander-in-chief of the Chariot. Behind him stepped a blonde female officer. Four pips. Again a commander. I wondered if she was his first officer.

Sophia stepped forward to greet them. I walked with her, staying just behind her shoulder.

Jameson’s eyes swept over Sophia, the deck, the security and then me. I was certain he didn’t miss a thing in that second’s long glance.

“Captain Anderson,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. “Allow me to make the introductions. This is Commander Kereama; my first officer.” Sophia shook the commander’s hand. “These two interlopers are Captain Vaughan and Commander Rey of the ESAS Chariot. Now proudly the playmates of Vela.”

Sophia cocked her head and shook everyone’s hand. Jameson looked pointedly at me.

“Welcome aboard,” Sophia said. She turned to me and said, “This is my chief science officer, Lieutenant Commander Saitō. He is the reason why Aquila did not succeed in gaining a foothold on our ship.”

I was surprised at the added explanation, even if it was technically true.

“Just the sort of officer you want on your side at a time like this, then,” Jameson said.

“Yes,” Sophia simply agreed. But to me, it sounded like an exclamation. A shout. A declaration to everyone present.

I nodded my head and returned to attention at her side.

“Shall we finish this in my ready room?” Sophia suggested.

“Lead on,” Jameson offered. “I always wondered what the jewel of the Anderson Universal fleet looked like. I aim to compare notes and complain wildly to my first officer when we get back to Pavo.”

“Did you compare notes and complain wildly,” Captain Vaughan asked, “when you returned to your ship from ours?”

Jameson scoffed. “Not likely, Noah. Your ship was a bloody wreck.”

They clearly knew each other. Or had grown close in the short time they’d both had since liftoff from Earth. As the Chariot was a European Space Agency vessel and not part of Anderson Universal, I was pretty sure that closeness meant more than it said.

“The Chariot is a finely made and maintained piece of machinery,” Vaughan’s Commander Rey said in an obviously French accent. “Nothing can compare to its systems in any of the fleets.”

“Tell that to yourself, Chief,” Jameson said. “But when I was last there, it was a heap.”

Sophia blinked, slowing her steps slightly. No doubt thinking she might have to intervene.

“Then perhaps you need to come back for another visit,” Vaughan said crisply.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Jameson offered with a grin. “Got any of that Williamine left?”

Captain Vaughan laughed. “Not if my mayor has anything to say about it.”

I glanced at Sophia, who looked back at me. Both of us stunned at the informality.

Jameson noted our shared expressions.

“Sophia,” he said. “Welcome to the Space Sucks But We’re All In This Together Club. Doesn’t matter where you’re from or what you had to do to get here. None of it does. If you have an AI, that’s gone batshit crazy and a vessel that still flies, then you’re an instant bonafide member. Congratulations.”

Sophia just stared at him.

And then Corvus said, “I am NOT batshit crazy.”

Jameson winced.

“But Vela might be.”

Forty-Three

Oorah

Sophia

My ready room seemed small with so many command-heavy officers in it. At least Itō and his men had remained outside. I sat down at my desk, noting Leo had shifted to stand off to the side. Close enough to step between me and any potential threat, but not so close that he impinged on my authority.

He was good at that.

I clasped my hands together on the desk before me and waited for everyone to settle.

When they’d taken their seats, I said, “We are unable to locate Aquila on our scans.” Nothing like being the first to get to the heart of the matter.

Jameson nodded, but it was Captain Vaughan who replied.

“We chased him out of the neighbourhood,” he said. “He was severely damaged. Some of your hits weren’t…kind.”

I wondered if he was judging me or simply stating a fact. It was hard to say. Despite being a fellow Englishman, I wasn’t familiar with Noah Vaughan out of the ESA.

“Did he attempt to hack your comms?” I asked, ignoring anything implied.

Jameson and Vaughan shared a look. “No,” they both said.

“Should he have?” Jameson added.

“Quite possibly,” I admitted. “We attempted to take his communications array out first. The hits to his nacelles were purely for our own survival.”

Noah Vaughan inclined his head as if I’d fired a warning shot across his bow. We were all feeling our way in this new dynamic.

“The communique we received was recorded,” Jameson advised. “When Pavo queried the veracity of Captain Moore’s words, we suspected the format was on purpose. Perhaps it was also because the damage sustained to his array was significant enough to compromise other aspects of his communications.”

That was a godsend, then. And I was thankful our hit to Aquila’s array had been enough to prevent the Sector One and Two AIs from suffering through what Corvus had.

I decided to voice my next greatest fear. “Aquila’s crew and passengers may be lost to us.”

“You can’t know that,” Captain Vaughan immediately said.

“I’m unsure we have a choice but to consider it,” I replied steadily.

Vaughan let out an uneasy sigh but didn’t offer further objections.

“What do you suggest, Captain?” Jameson asked.

“His purpose is unknown at this stage, save to say he admitted he wanted to destroy us,” I replied. Both men looked a little uncomfortable at that. I dismissed their reactions, thinking the topic was indeed an uncomfortable one for all of us. “We need to combine forces,” I added, “for all of our protection and proceed to the next jump point.”

“Do you know if Aquila has even set the next jump point?” Vaughan asked.

I shook my head. “It’s too far away for long-range scans. We’ve also not been able to locate his fleet. They could be guarding it.”

“You think the entire fleet has gone rogue?” Jameson demanded.

“As I said, I’m unsure we have a choice but to consider it.”

Jameson muttered something I couldn’t quite catch under his breath.

His first officer shifted in her seat. My eyes immediately flicked to her.

“Commander Kereama?” I pressed. “You have something to say?”

She glanced at Jameson, who met her gaze easily. They shared a look that said more than words could ever convey, and then he shrugged his shoulders, clearly having come to some decision.

“If you’ve heard enough to convince you, Ana,” he said. “ Go ahead.”

I watched as the woman lifted a hand to her ear and then realised what she was doing and lowered it. Earpiece. I was momentarily shocked. She was connected to someone outside of this room.

“Corvus,” I said quietly. “Scan my ready room.”

Everyone stilled.

“Ready room scanned, Captain. A communication device has been detected. My apologies. I was distracted and missed its significance.”

“Care to explain?” I said, looking at Jameson now instead of his first officer.

“Pavo,” both Jameson and Corvus said.

I arched my brow.

“Pavo distracted me, Captain,” Corvus added.

I held Jameson’s steady stare.

“Ana,” he said, holding my hard look just as resolutely.

“It’s true,” his first officer said into the strained silence. “I’m in contact with Pavo. I’m barely ever not in contact with Pavo actually.”

I said nothing and waited.

Kereama leaned forward as she talked.

“It’s standard procedure,” she explained. “When entering a foreign environment.”

“That’s not an Anderson Universal procedure I’m aware of,” I said. “And if you didn’t already know, Commander, I helped write the procedures.”

“Circumstances have required that we adapt, Captain,” Jameson said.

I couldn’t argue with that, but I still felt on edge.

“And what has Pavo to say?” I asked Kereama.

Kereama offered a wry smile. “Ironically, Pavo believes you’re speaking the truth,” she said.

It didn’t actually surprise me that they were still wary. I was still wary of them, after all.

“And what else does Pavo say?” I asked.

“Aside from frequently mentioning how…enthusiastic Corvus is,” she said, no doubt doctoring her words for Corvus’ sake, “he believes we should share experiences.”

I looked back at Jameson. Then flicked a glance to Vaughan. He and his Commander Rey did not look confused in the slightest, so I gathered they were in on this. Or, more accurately, that Pavo had already given them his seal of approval and they were part of the in-the-know section of our little club.

I sat back in my chair and waited.

Jameson offered a small smile but didn’t make eye contact. It was a purposeful move, designed to offer no obvious challenge.

John Jameson knew how to play the political game.

“Our leaseholder and mayor,” Kereama said drawing my attention again, “started a revolt.”

That was unexpected. I looked at Captain Vaughan.

“Ours didn’t,” he said quickly. “I like our mayor. But we’re not entirely sure what might have transpired onboard the vessel Vela if it had survived launch.”

“What does your AI say?”

“He can’t confirm or deny that there might have been a similar incident onboard once they’d cleared Earth’s orbit. A solar flare got them before anyone had a chance to enact any potential plan.”

“And the motive behind this?” I asked.

“Money,” Jameson said. “Power. As big a stake as they can manage in New Earth.”

I said nothing for a moment.

“That seems shortsighted,” I finally offered.

“Nobody ever said the rich and powerful weren’t ruthless,” Vaughan offered.

Everyone looked at me, expectantly.

“Your leaseholder?” Jameson finally asked.

“Deceased,” I offered. “Aquila,” I added when I saw the questions there.

“Ah,” Jameson said wincing. Clearly, their leaseholder had met a different end.

This just got more and more interesting. And I admit, a little frightening.

“Where does that leave us?” I asked.

“With the assumption that Aquila’s leaseholder succeeded in his endeavours,” Jameson offered.

That sounded entirely too plausible for my liking.

“Then Captain Moore is likely dead,” I concluded.

“Yes,” Jameson agreed simply. “But we can’t assume the rest of the AU crew is. And we certainly have no reason to believe the passengers are. The leaseholder needs civilians. He needs a workforce. It would make sense he’s kept the majority of the ship’s numbers alive and only dealt with the ones with any real power.”

“Captain. First Officer. Chief Engineer,” Commander Rey said, scowling on the last. “Possibly head of security, too, if they weren’t already in on it.”

I looked down at my desk. This left us in a difficult position. We couldn’t simply abandon Anderson Universal crew, or the civilians caught up in the leaseholder’s plans. Even if the jump point had been laid and we could reach it without Aquila destroying us, leaving behind survivors, humans, to a fate which could be worse than death, was downright negligent.

I let out a breath of air and said, “We need intelligence. Assumptions will get us nowhere.”

“Agreed,” Jameson said. “I’ve got my officers searching the Anderson Universal database for information pertaining to Aquila’s leaseholder and mayor. So far, we know the leaseholder has a daughter onboard with him, and he was considered the richest man in America for the past two decades. His business interests ran the gamut from tech startups to law firms to government contracted weapons manufacturing. He had his fingers in many pies.”

“And socially?” I asked.

“Not quite a recluse, but very near it. If he was seen publicly at all, it was contrived. Press releases, fundraising galas and the such. Nothing overly personal.”

“Intelligence is all well and good,” Vaughan growled. “But what do we do with it? How do we rescue his people?”

“Our people,” both Jameson and I said at the same time. We shared a startled look with each other.

“No man left behind,” Jameson offered.

“Oorah,” Kereama said.

I looked toward Leo for the first time since we’d entered the room. His eyes met mine. Steady. Rock solid. Grounding. He offered a nod of his head. I shook mine in reply. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this.

When I looked back at the officers before me, they were all watching avidly, as if they were at a Wimbledon match final.

“I wondered when we’d get to this part,” Jameson said conversationally.

“What part?” I enquired.

Jameson waved a hand at Leo. “It’s obvious he’s here for a specific reason, and it’s not purely historical.”

He was right. Leo’s prevention of Aquila from gaining a handhold on Corvus was not the only reason why he was here. He was here because he was the only one who could completely destroy the AI.

All the AIs potentially.

I sat still. Considering what I was about to do. Aware this went against everything my grandfather raised me to believe in.

I sighed. We too had to adapt.

“Go ahead, Leo,” I said.

And prayed we got this right.

Forty-Four

I Was Glad She Was On My Side

Leo

“Where the hell did you get a code like that?” Captain Jameson said.

“Stop it!” Commander Kereama whispered, hand to her ear. “Calm down.”

“I would like to see this code,” Commander Rey announced.

“Don’t let it anywhere near Vela,” Vaughan growled.

“Just who the hell are you?” Jameson said, staring hard at me.

“I won’t let them,” Kereama whispered. “I promise.”

“Enough!” Sophia snapped. Full authority in her tone.

Everyone shut up quickly.

She pointed at Jameson. “We’ll tell you as much as we can.”

Then she pointed at Kereama. “Tell Pavo he has nothing to fear from us unless he chooses to blast us into our component pieces.”

“Ditto for Vela,” she said, waving toward Captain Vaughan.

Then finally she looked at Commander Rey. “No one sees the code but Lieutenant Commander Saitō. Not even me.”

Sophia sucked in a breath of air and centred herself then.

“As it is,” she said, voice low and serious, “the idea of what this code can do goes against everything I was raised to believe in. Even thinking of it scares me half to death. So, do not believe for a second that I authorise its use lightly. I, of all people, understand. I saw these AIs in their infancy. I watched them become a reality. I know exactly what Simon Anderson intended for them, and this was not it.

“But he was also wise. My grandfather knew their potential better than most. He feared it. And as such, he prepared a contingency. A last resort. Do you hear me? A last resort.”

She stared each and every one of them down, and I couldn’t have been more proud of her.

“The question is,” she said softly, “does this situation with Aquila amount to a last resort?”

Silence. And then Jameson let out a sigh which seemed to allow everyone else to breathe.

“As the only other Anderson Universal captain here,” he said, “I speak with some measure of authority.”

Sophia held his stare.

He gave her a steady look back for a long moment and then he broke eye contact, looking toward Captain Vaughan and Commander Rey instead.

“This is a last resort situation,” he said. “Aquila is the definition of rogue.”

“Agreed,” Captain Vaughan said.

Everyone looked back at Sophia.

“We’ll take your lead on this, Captain,” Jameson surprisingly said. “But how exactly do you plan to do this?”

She looked at me. She wasn’t going to like this.

“I need direct access to his systems,” I said. “It can’t be activated remotely.”

“Well, that’s that, then,” Vaughan said throwing up his hands in disgust.

Sophia looked at me with her signature impassive mask. Behind which I knew was utter turmoil.

“We don’t even know where he is,” Commander Kereama said. “Pavo’s searching now, but there’s no sign of him.”

“He’ll be near the jump point,” I offered. “Waiting for us.”

“You don’t think he’ll try to ambush us on the way there?” Commander Rey asked.

“Possibly, but I doubt it,” I said. “He’s damaged; limping. Where would he go that provides a measure of protection and access to resources he might need to effect a swift repair?”

“His fleet,” Jameson said.

“Exactly. He’s got a head start on us. Over a day already. He’ll reach them well before we will. That’s where our trap will be waiting.”

“How soon can we mobilise the fleets?” Vaughan asked.

Sophia finally entered the conversation again. I’d been well aware that she’d been silent since I’d dropped my bombshell. Thinking no doubt. Trying to devise a way for me to avoid boarding Aquila. She wouldn’t be able to come up with one, I was pretty sure. She may not have been familiar with the code on an intimate level, but she understood the mechanics. The restrictions using a code like that had.

There was no other choice. I had to board Aquila to access his systems directly and upload that code. And end this.

I didn’t relish it. But I would do it. For all of us. For Sophia.

“We’re still repairing our main boost thrust,” she said quietly. “And two of our fleet vessels are also under repair. Twenty-four hours ideally. Twelve at best if we put a rush on it.”

“Can I offer the expertise of my chief engineer?” Captain Vaughan asked.

“I can’t speak for the Seeker and Valiant, but our chief engineer is more than up to the task,” Sophia said.

Vaughan looked at Commander Rey. “I am naturally biased, but my chief engineer is outstanding.”

Commander Rey rolled her eyes at him. “Captain,” she said, looking back at Sophia. “May I have your permission to contact the Seeker and Valiant to offer my aid?”

She was the Chariot’s chief engineer. Why hadn’t I picked that one up? Somehow it made it easier to be standing there. In amongst this powerhouse grouping of senior officers. Granted, she was a commander, and I was only a lieutenant commander. But she wasn’t a first officer.

I smiled.

“Permission granted,” Sophia said to Rey.

“We’ll get going then,” Vaughan announced. “We don’t have an earpiece to Vela, and he’ll be getting antsy.”

They stood up. Everyone else did as well.

“Your AI gets antsy?” Sophia asked.

“Perhaps an exaggeration,” Vaughan admitted. “But he does like us to be punctual.”

“Ah,” Sophia said in understanding just as Corvus giggled.

“Corvus?”

“Nothing, Captain.”

“OK,” Sophia said, dismissing our AI’s outburst easily. Corvus had frequent outbursts, and we were, maybe not getting used to them as such, but adjusting to accommodate them.

And then Corvus added, “Anal. Not antsy.”

Sophia closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

“Did your AI just call my AI anal?” Vaughan asked.

“You’re hearing things, Captain,” Sophia said, ushering them to the door and gaining the attention of security. “Have a safe trip back to your ship,” she said in an uncharacteristic rush.

“Captain Anderson,” Noah Vaughn said, trying not to smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get rid of us.”

“Not at all,” Sophia said. “Goodbye.”

Vaughan started laughing as he sauntered off down the corridor with his chief, security at their side.

Sophia turned around and looked at the rest of us. Then grimaced.

“Please tell me Pavo gets you into trouble as well?” she said.

“All the time,” Jameson offered. “And trust me, so does Vela. The rumours I’ve heard over inter-ship comms.” He shuddered. “Frightening.”

Sophia smiled and returned to her seat. We all sat down.

Vaughan and Sophia stared at each other. Commander Kereama and I might as well have not been there.

Then finally Jameson said, “My condolences on the loss of Vladimir. I knew Captain Petrov quite well. From teleconferences back on Earth mostly. But it’s amazing how familiar those could become.”

Sophia nodded her head but said nothing.

“The loss of the vessel Vela hit us hard,” he added. “Losing Aquila would be a bitter blow.”

“Agreed,” Sophia said.

Jameson looked at me. “Do you have any infiltration skills to speak of?”

“No, sir,” I said. “I have the standard Anderson Universal basic combat training and am proficient in Aikido. But I was in Tech Development in Tokyo.” Tech geek.

“Part of Simon’s pet projects,” he said.

I nodded.

He looked at Commander Kereama. “I think we might be able to help with that.”

The commander grinned back at him. It was decidedly mischievous.

“I’m already formulating a plan,” she told him.

“As I thought you would be, Commander,” Jameson said.

He looked back at Sophia again.

“This won’t be easy,” he said. “I expect Aquila will do everything in his power to avoid a boarding party. So even getting people on his ship will be a tall task. But once they’re there.” He shook his head. “What sort of resistance will the leaseholder offer?”

Sophia tapped a finger on the desk, contemplating the other captain’s words for a moment.

Then she looked at me.

“I think it’s time I settled things with our mayor,” she said.

I blinked. And then nodded my head.

If our leaseholder had been planning a coup, then it's likely our mayor either knew about it or had since found out about it. And what he knew or had found out could mean the difference between life or death.

I tried not to think it was my life or death we were talking about. But it was difficult.

And then my eyes met Commander Kereama’s.

Oorah, I thought. There was something decidedly military looking about her just then.

Kereama, for her part, just smiled.

I wouldn’t want to have been Aquila’s leaseholder faced with the look on the commander’s face just then.

I was glad she was on my side.

Forty-Five

I Couldn’t Stop This From Happening

Sophia

The mayor sat alone at a finely set table in the most expensive restaurant onboard the vessel. My walk through the Habitat One central hub to get there had been met with countless pleasant greetings. I had heard the odd person whisper too loudly. The whispers carrying on the filtered air to my ears.

“There goes the captain. Doesn’t she strike an imposing figure?”

“No wonder she had Aquila running.”

“She certainly knows how to make an appearance.”

“She’ll get us out of this mess and to New Earth.”

I’d smiled when passengers smiled at me. I’d nodded my head and said, “Good evening.” But I’d ignored the murmurs. The whispers of awe. I may well have been their captain, but I was only one woman. I would not entertain notions of grandeur.

I came to a stop in front of the maître d’ and waited for him to give me his attention. He blinked when he saw the uniform. Sucked in a breath when he noticed the four bars on the collar. Swallowed thickly when his eyes met mine.

“The mayor is expecting me,” I said by way of greeting.

“Yes, ma’am,” he rushed to say. “If you’d follow me please,” he offered with a slight bow that made little sense.

There had been nothing I could have done about the rumours in the officers’ mess hall, the names I’d been called, the looks I’d received. And there was equally nothing I could do about this…hero worship.

So I chose to ignore it as I had ignored Steel Tits. Eventually, it would settle. Just like the officers’ mess had settled. I only hoped it wouldn’t take as long as Steel Tits to go away.

I walked across the restaurant, following the maître d’, receiving a different type of look from the patrons. I held my head up, kept my shoulders back, and put one foot in front of the other.

In the end, that’s all you can do, really. Put one foot in front of the other until you come out the other side.

I’d come out the other side with the majority of the AU crew now. I would come out the other side of this. Hopefully, it would be a side that didn’t include a rogue AI trying to destroy us.

“Your guest has arrived, Your Worship,” the maître d’ said.

The mayor looked up, saw that I was in uniform, winced slightly, and then stood to his feet.

This would be no social visit.

“Captain,” he said.

“Mayor Nikolaev,” I offered, taking the seat the maître d’ held for me. The mayor sat once I was settled. The maître, in the way of most fine restaurant’s who claimed maître d’s, vanished into thin air.

The mayor studied his menu. I said nothing, letting the man find his footing. When the waiter arrived, he ordered the steak and a merlot. I asked for the same. It was his budget.

Finally, he looked up from staring at the table and let out a subtle breath of air.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” he asked.

“This could have been discussed in your office,” I said.

He shook his head. “If I am to be stood before the firing range, I’d prefer to eat a decent last meal.”

I smiled, amused at his melodramatic imagination.

“You’re not being fired, Mayor,” I said. “At least, not yet.”

He scowled at me.

“You have a choice,” I went on. “Work with me or work against me. It’s simple, really.” I studied him for a moment and then asked, “How much do you want what we have here to work?”

“I don’t understand,” he said, sitting more upright in his seat.

“The lease,” I explained. “The governing of the civilians onboard this vessel. Did you ever believe in it? Or was it all an act?”

He could have lied, of course. But I thought he might just realise this was his last chance. His only chance at survival.

“I’ve always believed in it, Captain.”

“And yet you’ve never served the public before,” I offered.

“Civil servants don’t earn a decent wage,” he offered.

“But PR pays.”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“What do you know of the leaseholder’s intentions?” I asked, dropping the real reason why I was here in his lap like a hot potato.

He blanched.

My smile wasn’t quite as benign as his had been.

I leaned forward. “Let’s cut to the chase,” I said. “The leaseholder did not have an heir. In fact, he made every effort not to have an heir. Here onboard Corvus and back on Earth. Felip Nowak did not like to share. Without an heir to the lease, the lease becomes the property of the vessel’s legal owner. But it does not become void.”

He watched me warily but said nothing.

“I’m sure you’re aware that I am now the rightful owner of Anderson Universal Incorporated and all its subsidiaries. I own the lease, Mayor Nikolaev and I need a mayor.”

He blinked. But I wasn’t certain he was actually breathing just yet.

“I’m interviewing for the role right now,” I said.

He swallowed thickly.

“My number one criteria is loyalty,” I added. “Loyalty to Anderson Universal and those people in its care. To gain that loyalty I need something very specific from you, Mayor Nikolaev.”

I waited. I’d make him sweat bullets if I had to. This man was not likeable on a personal level. But he was good at charming the pants off the civilian population. Despite his sexist views on women in positions of authority. But I rather liked the idea of making him suffer through answering to a woman employer. What better way to improve Alexei Nikolaev's prejudices than make him face them publicly?

“Wh..what do you need exactly, Captain?” he asked.

I sat back in my chair and looked at the man before me. Dressed in a fine silk suit with patent leather shoes and gold cufflinks, he was the epitome of a top-tier. And yet somehow, he could still chug a beer with the pay-for-passages.

You didn’t have to like someone to work with them. But I did have to trust them to some degree.

“Tell me everything you know of the leaseholder’s plan to start a revolt onboard Corvus,” I said.

His face paled. Sweat beaded his brow. For a moment, I thought he might faint from the pressure.

He knew what Felip Nowak had planned. Whether he knew before the leaseholder’s death or afterwards, I’d probably never know for certain. But he knew something right now, and that was all I cared about.

“Start at the beginning,” I said as our steaks and merlots arrived.

I took a sip of my drink and then placed the glass back on the white tablecloth carefully. Looking at the mayor briefly, I got stuck into my very expensive meal.

By the time the mayor finished telling me of notes he’d found in the leaseholder’s quarters, outlining his intentions to seize control of the bridge, kill Captain Petrov, and take command of Corvus, the mayor hadn’t touched a morsel of his meal.

It might have been he’d lost his appetite. But it was more obviously due to the story he regaled.

Of leaseholders across the four sectors agreeing to a grand plan to overthrow their leases and race each other to the finish line and New Earth. Power. Money. Just like Jameson had said. Greedy on Earth and greedy in space, the leaseholders planned to carve up our new world between them, the winner, in this case, could very well have taken all.

But it wasn’t until the mayor was winding down that the true intelligence emerged.

“All of his private security force?” I enquired.

“Yes. All of them were aware of his intentions.”

“Corvus,” I said softly; taking an unconcerned sip of my drink.

“Security is moving on their quarters now, Captain,” Corvus said. “Stand by.”

We waited. The mayor continued to perspire. His steak grew colder.

“All of Felip Nowak’s security force has been arrested, Captain,” Corvus said a few moments later. “Operation Clean Sweep is a go for success.”

I suppressed the grimace that wanted out on those overly enthusiastic words.

“You’ll make available all technical equipment and any weaponry the leaseholder had in his possession,” I said.

“Yes, Captain.”

“And I expect a report on absolutely every detail you have ascertained by 0800 tomorrow.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Congratulations,” I said, standing from the table. “You’re hired. Don’t let me down, Mayor.”

He nodded his head and stood also. He looked at me with something akin to surprise and, dare I say it, respect. I dismissed that last and held out my hand for the man to shake.

He took it. Shook it hard. Determination on his face.

I wasn’t sure what that determination could mean in the long run, until he said, “I misjudged you, Captain Anderson.”

I held his steady stare and nodded my head.

“A lot of people do,” I offered. “But they soon learn.”

And then I walked out of the restaurant and headed back to the main deck.

We had an assault to plan. A boarding to prepare for. And from what I’d just learned, Commander Kereama’s away team were going to have their hands full once they managed to get onboard Aquila.

My thoughts automatically went to Leo. And for the hundredth time, I tried to think of a way to protect him.

I couldn’t stop this from happening. I couldn’t do a thing to save him from danger.

So I chose, at that moment, to trust him. He was a capable officer.

Just because he held my heart did not mean I had a right to deny him this moment.

And this moment was definitely Leo’s. He alone could save us from Aquila.

I walked toward my quarters knowing he’d be there. That thought was the thought that soothed me the most. And made it possible to be the captain I needed to be. As well as his lover.

Forty-Six

There Was Simply No Other Option

Leo

The door to the captain’s quarters opened and Sophia walked in. She looked good. Not overly exhausted. Back straight and chin up. In command of her world.

She smiled when her eyes met mine.

I’d never get used to that. I’d never take it for granted. Sophia Anderson showing me a side of her not many got to see. And I saw it every day. Sometimes several times a day. It was a gift I would never stop craving.

“Hey,” I said, as she crossed the room, starting to remove her uniform jacket.

“Hey, yourself,” she offered, slinging the jacket over a chair in the corner. She started on her undershirt.

My body stirred.

I looked up at her as she approached my seat. Undershirt gone. Uniform trousers hitting the gel floor at her feet. She walked the last few steps completely naked.

Fuck me.

“How did it go with the mayor?” I asked.

She offered a small curve of her lips and straddled my thighs. My hands found her hips of their own accord, as Sophia reached up and pulled the hair clip from her bun, letting her hair tumble down behind her.

She placed the clip out of reach before I could claim it. Either she knew what I’d been doing, or she just didn’t want to lose it. She reached down and gripped my hands, taking them off her hips, and wrapping them around the chair seat I was sitting on.

“It went as well as can be expected,” she said once my hands were where she wanted them to be.

She leaned in and kissed up my neck, nibbling on my ear.

I leaned back and tilted my head to the side, allowing her better access. My cock strained against the confines of my trousers. Sophia didn’t rub herself against me, she just sucked on my neck, breathed hot air over my ear, and did it all while straddling me, naked.

It was enough. Trust me. It was more than enough to make me want to beg.

“Nowak’s security force has been sent to the brig,” she said, licking over where she’d been sucking my skin for the past few seconds.

She admired her work for a moment and then kissed over my jaw to the other side.

I let out a little moan of content.

“Nikolaev confirmed he had plans to overthrow the captain,” she said a second or two later.

“Was he in on it?” I asked, having to think hard to form a coherent sentence.

“I didn’t pursue that line of enquiry,” she said. “Some things can never be adequately determined.”

Meaning the mayor could easily lie about it, and we’d be none the wiser. Well, maybe wiser, just not certain.

I moaned again when Sophia suckled on my ear, giving it a little nip.

“I’ll know the extent of the leaseholder’s preparations, and therefore an idea of what Aquila’s leaseholder might have planned, at 0800 tomorrow,” she said.

“Ah-huh,” I managed.

Sophia chuckled, and then clearly satisfied that she’d reduced me to a gibbering mess, reached down and undid my trousers, freeing my aching dick.

Without a moment’s delay, she lifted up, placed my cock head at her entrance, and then lowered herself down my shaft.

I made an inarticulate sound that could be translated as “Fuck me that’s good” if she chose to do so.

She laughed. And then moaned. And then started to lift herself back up off my cock, to the very tip, so very slowly, and then slammed her body back down again.

My fingers ached as I held onto the chair seat beneath us. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t without options.

I ducked my head as she lifted up again, and placed my lips on her nipple, sucking hard.

Her hands went to my head, and she fisted her fingers in my hair, holding me to her. She fucked me as I sucked in time on her breast. Both of us moaning.

Within seconds we were panting, and groaning, and muttering incoherent words that definitely had something to do with how good it was, and then sweat slicked and bodies thrumming, I came hard. Sophia followed me over the edge of that beautiful abyss, moaning low and long.

It was so damn sexy.

I lifted my hands as she lay her head on my shoulder, and wrapped my fingers around her waist. And then I stood up, my trousers hanging down around my knees, and somehow managed to get us into the bathroom, and turned the shower on.

Exactly six minutes later, I had her naked, sated, soaped up and rubbed down body in our bed, and I crawled in behind her, wrapping her up in my arms.

We lay there for a long time, just listening to each other’s breathing, neither of us ready to sleep just yet.

“Repairs have been completed. We should have the jump point and therefore Aquila on long-range scans by lunchtime tomorrow,” she finally said.

“Commander Kereama has advised she’ll be here at 1600 hours,” I added.

“How many has she recommended for the boarding party?” Sophia asked, running her fingers over my arm.

“Two,” I said.

She stilled. And then turned in my arms to look at me.

“Just two?”

I shrugged. “Stealth approach, I suppose.”

Sophia frowned at me.

I leaned in and kissed her on her nose.

The frown became a scowl instead.

“Something about collateral damage,” I offered. “I didn’t press. She didn’t look like she wanted to discuss it.”

Sophia let out a slow breath, centring herself, and then she started following the contours of my jaw and face with a finger. I watched her study her progress.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she said.

“I don’t want to go,” I offered.

“This has to be done,” she said, her eyes shiny all of a sudden.

It was enough to throw me for too long a moment. I didn’t offer a reply quickly enough.

She blinked, and the wetness vanished.

“You can do this,” she said.

“Is that Captain Anderson talking,” I said. “Or Sophia, my lover?”

“Both,” she said.

I nodded.

We settled down into the bed, the lights dimming further, letting us know that Corvus was paying attention to us. Not an exactly welcome thought. But the young AI had promised she wouldn’t watch us.

We had to take our victories where we could.

“Don’t die, Leo,” Sophia whispered just as I was drifting off to sleep.

“I don’t plan to,” I promised.

I held the woman I loved as we slept. I held her to my body as I held her to my heart. She’d let me go. She’d let me do this. She wouldn’t interfere because we both knew this had to be done.

Why did such life-threatening things happen just when you realised you had the most glorious life?

I knew why I thought. Because without that knowledge, you wouldn’t have someone to come home to. Someone to live for.

Coming home to Sophia was all that mattered. The look on her face as she walked through the door. The quiet words over a shared supper. The deconstruction of a harrowing day. The moments of shared laughter. The intimacy of making love. The ability to reach inside one another and offer comfort and support, love and understanding.

We would do this. And we would come out the other side alive.

There was simply no other option.

Forty-Seven

Roll On Tomorrow

Sophia

There have been times in my life where I haven’t fit in. Where I’ve been called names, I did not believe I deserved.

And then there have been times when I have been at one with the universe, and those same names have held a different meaning. A truer meaning. One I could live with.

I was no longer Steel Tits in the eyes of many, but as I stood in the launch bay beside Captains Jameson and Vaughan, looking at the line-up of remote-controlled shuttles Corvus had retro-fitted with lethal explosives and Commander Rey was inspecting, I felt more like steel than I had ever been before.

We’d amassed a squadron of mosquitos we hoped would drain Aquila of his blood. Little pinpricks of discomfort that alone couldn’t do too much to the Anderson Universal vessel. But together, like the Sector One, Two and Three Fleets were now together, could do some serious damage.

Destroying Aquila was not the outcome we wanted. But distracting Aquila with so many little annoyances might just be enough for a smaller, hopefully, less obvious annoyance, to slip in close enough to do serious injury to the AI itself.

I glanced across the launch bay to the stealth shuttle Leo and Commander Kereama would be using. Flown by none other than our Lieutenant Sokolov.

Our stealth vessel. Our pilot. Leo had insisted.

The aim was to get in close enough for Commander Kereama and Leo to perform a ship to ship EVA. But unlike any extravehicular activity ever performed by our crews before, this one was designed to get both Kereama and Leo onboard Aquila by using their doctored LSUs to direct their manoeuvres in open space.

It was risky and unprecedented, but flying a shuttle into Aquila’s launch bays would be detected. Slipping two stealth officers in through an otherwise unimportant at that moment docking portal was just doable. Just.

Or so Leo told me.

He had codes. He understood the systems. He could get them in undetected. Kereama, she said, was there to provide the muscle.

I wasn’t sure Leo appreciated her take on things. Having his own muscles and such.

Once Leo and Kereama had exited the stealth vessel, and under the cover and distraction of the drone shuttles, Sokolov would leave them, returning to Corvus; having performed his part of the mission.

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of it. But I stood there beside Captains Jameson and Vaughan as if I were made of steel. I stood there and watched Commander Rey perform her final inspection. I stood there and pretended my heart wasn’t fracturing and my world wasn’t about to fall apart.

“This sucks,” Jameson said.

I blinked at him.

“Do you think I want her to go off without me?” he asked.

Vaughan chuckled. “That’s why you give them a job that requires they stay at home,” he offered.

“Good God, listen to yourself,” Jameson scoffed. “Ever heard of women’s lib?” Vaughan laughed, his ears turning pink while he did it. “I could suggest they might need a chief engineer too, Noah,” Jameson growled. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Nobody suggests anything to Camille, John,” Captain Vaughan replied, scratching his stubble.

Jameson sighed. “I couldn’t hold Ana back if I tried. That’s not who she is.”

They both looked at me.

“Um,” was all I said.

“You’ll learn,” they both said and then laughed.

I shook my head and looked back at the stealth shuttle. Commander Kereama, Jameson’s Ana, was talking to Lieutenant Sokolov. Leo stood off to the side, running a hand over the sharp angles of the vessel, talking softly. I had no way to know what he was saying, but I presumed he was talking to Corvus one last time.

I let out a slow breath of air and commanded my heart to stop thumping.

Commander Rey walked back toward us.

“Everything seems in order,” she said.

“Well, of course, it is,” Corvus replied. “Duh! I do know how to retro-fit a shuttle.”

“Don’t lie,” Commander Rey said easily. “Pavo helped you.”

“He did no such thing! I don’t need that windbag telling me what to do.”

“So, the romance is over?” I asked.

“What romance?” Corvus snapped. “Captain, I wouldn’t crush on that AI if he was the last AI in the universe.”

“I see,” I said, while the officers around me all shook their heads.

“Besides,” Corvus added. “He’s a goody two shoes. I’ve decided I like bad boys better. I thought I told you this.”

“You did,” I offered. “I simply pushed it from my mind.”

Jameson snorted.

“Who’s the lucky bad boy, then?” Vaughan asked.

“Vela,” Corvus said with a happy sigh.

“Oh, dear God,” Captain Vaughan muttered. “Quick, Chief, warn Vela fast.”

“Humph,” Corvus replied.

“There is something seriously wrong with your AI,” Jameson pointed out as Commander Kereama, Lieutenant Sokolov and Leo walked toward us.

“There’s nothing at all wrong with our AI,” I said, my eyes all for Leo.

“Thank you, Captain,” Corvus said.

“You’re welcome,” I automatically replied.

Leo stopped before me. I registered that Kereama had stopped before Jameson. Camille had already been standing in front of Vaughan and Sokolov stood off to the side, looking perplexed. If not a little nervous.

I thought that last was for the upcoming flight.

“We’re ready,” Kereama said. “So is Pavo.”

“As is Vela,” Commander Rey said.

I looked into Leo’s eyes. I couldn’t seem to look anywhere else just then.

“I am ready, too, in case you were wondering,” Corvus said.

“So, this is it,” Jameson offered, ignoring our AI.

“Yep,” Kereama replied. “Oorah,” she said.

They stared at each other, but I was barely aware. I was too busy staring at Leo.

I could do this. I could let him go. Let him be the man he needed to be. I could do this.

“Damn it all to hell,” Jameson said and stepped forward, reaching up to cup a hand behind Ana’s neck. He pulled her in for a lip-smacking kiss.

We all stared. Then Captain Vaughan looked at Camille, who instantly shook her head.

They shared a kiss a moment later. Albeit briefly.

I looked back at Leo.

“What do you say?” I said.

“Ah,” he offered; flicking a glance at Sokolov, and then at the rest of the launch bay crew and security dotted about.

“Come on,” I said in encouragement. “All the other captains are doing it.”

He shook his head, lips twitching.

I leaned in, grabbed hold of his LSU by the front of it, and hauled him closer. Then I kissed the breath out of him. I kissed the world away. I kissed away the worry.

I kissed him as if I could tell him through that kiss how important he was to me. How important it was that he return.

I kissed him longer than Jameson kissed Kereama or Vaughan kissed Camille. I kissed him until we could hear catcalls and wolf-whistles and Jameson laughing his head off.

“Now that’s a goodbye kiss,” he said.

I pulled back, breathless slightly. Leo looked a little dazed.

“No,” I said, smiling at Leo as he smiled back. “That’s a promise.”

“A promise I aim to keep,” Leo said.

“Oh, this is so much better than the chick flick I’m watching,” Corvus announced.

We all ignored her. It wasn’t hard. Leo stood before me, a promise in his eyes that matched mine.

This wasn’t goodbye. This wasn’t even until we meet again.

This was a promise to return to each other at the end of the day. To unwind together. To debrief. To make plans for a new day. This was a promise that nothing, not battles or politics or command of a spaceship, would get in the way.

This was our promise, and we made it to each other, even as I watched him walk away.

Leo, Commander Kereama, and Lieutenant Sokolov walked up the ramp onto the stealth vessel.

Jameson turned to look at me only after the door sealed shut behind them.

“This sucks,” he said.

I nodded my head.

It did suck. But Leo was mine, and I was his. And at the end of the day, we’d be together.

“Come back to me,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Jameson said in heartfelt agreement.

I closed my eyes briefly, thought of the kiss we’d just shared, and then sighed.

Roll on tomorrow. And being back together.

Forty-Eight

Nothing In This Or Any Universe

Leo

I played with the hair clips I had slipped into my pocket earlier. Watching Sophia out of the shuttle’s window. Sokolov performed his pre-flight checks in the cockpit as Commander Kereama sat beside me in the aft of the vessel, staring out of the same portal.

“Well, this sucks,” she said.

I chuckled.

“You and Captain Anderson, eh?” she asked in her kiwi accent.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling.

She whistled. “Good for you,” she said.

“Yeah,” I repeated.

I patted the pocket, the hair clips safely tucked away inside and twisted toward the front of the shuttle.

“All good, Sokolov?” I asked.

“Aye, sir. Pre-flight checks complete. We are go for launch. Just waiting on final clearance from Corvus.”

“Is Aquila showing on short-range scans?” I asked.

“Affirmative, sir,” Sokolov advised. “We’ve now entered engagement range.”

“Weapons arming on Aquila vessel only,” Corvus advised.

“None of the others?” Kereama asked. We’d ascertained the Sector Four Fleet was indeed at the coordinates we’d received for the next jump point. But the jump point, it seemed, was either locked down or not there.

We didn’t have time right now to consider the ramification of Aquila not having laid the jump point yet. Aquila had definitely been expecting us. He had his own shuttles laid out in a defensive grid before him and his sector’s vessels. But at least his sector fleet vessels weren’t arming for a scuffle.

That was something to be thankful for.

“Has Pavo launched their load yet?” Kereama asked.

“Pavo and Vela are launching shuttles now, Commander,” Corvus said. “I have been advised I am to wait until they are clear.” She didn’t sound happy about it.

“Let them take the first few hits, Corvus,” I said. “Then you can come in and save their arses.”

She giggled. “I like that idea.”

“Shuttles away,” Sokolov said. “Stand by for launch.”

“Standing by,” both Kereama and I said.

We glanced out of the shuttle’s window, but the launch bay had been cleared. And by now, the captains would be on the bridge at the ops table there. It and been decided they’d oversee the beginning stages of the battle together. Once the first salvo had been fired, then Captains Vaughan and Jameson would return to their respective ships.

At that point, it was to be a game of cat and mouse. Leading Aquila away from his sector fleet, and letting our charges take cover in and around them. Aquila would be less likely to fire on his own sector fleet, and distinguishing our fleets’ vessels from his would hopefully be too hard in the ensuing hunt he’d be required to undertake.

I didn’t like the idea that Sophia and Corvus would play mouse to Aquila’s cat. But we didn’t know how long it would take for me to gain access to his computer core and upload the code to destroy him.

We needed time to do our part, so Corvus, Pavo and Vela onboard Chariot had to do theirs.

My hand automatically went to the pocket containing Sophia’s hair clips as the stealth shuttle shot through the blue containment field out into the black.

“Good luck,” Corvus said over the shuttle’s speakers.

“Take care of her, Corvus,” I said softly.

“Of course, Leo. I will protect Sophia.”

Kereama was whispering to Pavo, using her earpiece. I didn’t try to listen in on their private conversation.

“Hey, Corvus,” I said. “We should have thought of an earpiece for us.”

“You’d wear me in your ear, Leo?”

“Of course. It would have been good to have you along with me.”

“Pavo says he will be pulling back from Commander Kereama once we approach Aquila. We can’t be sure if Aquila can pick up the signal between the earpiece and Pavo, so it’s best to be careful.”

“So, no earpiece,” I said.

“I can have one waiting for you, Leo. For when you get back.”

“You do that, Corvus.”

“The captain says she’ll be waiting too.”

My brow arched.

“I bet she didn’t say that at all, Corvus. You’re making that up.”

“Am not.”

“Are too,” I said, grinning.

“Well, she didn’t say that in so many words. But she did say, ‘come back to me’ as you boarded.”

I leaned back in the shuttle’s seat as Aquila and his defence force of shuttles loomed ever larger on the viewscreen. Sophia wanted me back. With her. Just as much as I wanted to be there.

I could do this. I would do this. And I would get back to my Sophia.

It didn’t matter what we faced now. It didn’t matter what I had to do to succeed. I would face it. I would succeed. Because I would get back to Sophia.

That knowledge, so sure, so certain, calmed me. As the first plasma shot was fired and our drone shuttles replied. Blue and red light lit up the deep, dark space all around us, as Sokolov flew us beneath it all. Approaching in stealth.

“Going silent,” Sokolov said. “I’m sure our comms will be hidden by the other AIs communicating with the drones, but we need to be certain.”

“As you say, Lieutenant,” Kereama said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned to look at me, then started to check my fastenings. I did the same for her.

“You ready for this, Lieutenant Commander?” she asked.

“Ready and eager, ma’am. I have a date tonight I aim to keep.”

Kerema smiled at me, just as we finished each other’s LSU checks.

She slapped me on the shoulder and said, “Good plan, Saitō. Good plan.”

“I think so,” I said.

“Two minutes out,” Sokolov shouted.

He’d done some remarkable flying when he’d piloted this shuttle through the asteroid field. I was certain there was no other helmsman I’d want in that pilot’s seat right now.

“We’re coming up on the Habitat One emergency access dock,” Sokolov announced. “Port side. Prepare to disembark.”

“Disembark,” Kereama muttered. “You’d think we were on a passenger liner.”

I gripped hold of the overhead handle as the pilot’s area was sealed behind a containment field and our portion of the shuttle decompressed, ready for disembarkation.

I offered Kereama a nod of my head. She gave me the signal for OK.

The shuttle’s door opened, the ramp stayed in place, and we floated out of the vessel, careful not to scrape our LSUs on the edges. It was probably unnecessary, but EVAs tended to make us all a little nervous.

And this wasn’t your average EVA.

“Activating thrusters,” Kereama said. “On my mark.”

The shuttle’s door closed behind us, and Sokolov took the vessel back into the fray. He was still stealth. We weren’t. But we were so small, and Aquila was dealing with so many other shuttles, that we could only hope we’d be overlooked.

“Mark,” Kereama said, her thrusters releasing a burst of propellant. Mine did the same, following behind her trajectory.

The dock in question loomed large as we approached the port side of Aquila. The Anderson Universal vessel hadn’t yet left its sector fleet. Our shuttles were doing everything they could to keep it in place until we gained access.

Kereama landed first, feet locking into place magnetically. I landed a little less elegantly at her side.

“Don’t worry,” she said, over our secured network. “I’ve done a hell of a lot of practising since we launched.”

I nodded my head, as she moved to the side, leaving access to the docking door.

“She’s all yours, Lieutenant Commander,” she said.

I reached up to the handheld device I had attached to my LSU, but my hand found my pocket instead. I patted it reassuringly, thinking of the hair clips lying safely inside.

When this was over, I was going to make sure I added to my collection. And maybe found some more hair clips for Sophia in storage.

And then I got to work.

Because Sophia was waiting for me. Counting on me.

And because I knew, nothing could stop me from getting back to my woman. Nothing in this or any universe.

Sophia Anderson, aka Steel Tits, aka Captain of the vessel Corvus, aka heir to Anderson Universal Incorporated, was mine.

And I was hers.

Forty-Nine

Forever

Sophia

“They’re inside,” Jameson announced, eyes glued to his viewscreen.

“Nothing’s blown up, so we can assume they haven’t been detected,” Commander Rey offered.

“Not exactly reassuring, Chief,” Captain Vaughan muttered.

“We’ve lost 20% of the shuttles, Captains,” Gāo announced.

“Hold steady,” I said. “Give them time to stow their LSU’s somewhere before we move off.”

“You think Aquila will associate our exit from the vicinity with any anomalies the away team might have caused?” Vaughan asked.

“Better safe than sorry,” I said.

“I wish we could see what they are seeing,” Jameson mused.

“Any communication could be picked up by Aquila,” Corvus advised.

“Yes. I am aware, Corvus,” Jameson said. “Won’t stop me wishing for it.”

“I can tell you they are still alive,” Corvus announced.

“How?” my captain counterparts and I all said.

“Nothing’s blown up,” she offered.

We all stared blankly at each other.

“Nah,” the AI said a heartbeat later. “Just kidding. Their biosignatures are still detectable.”

“They should have masked them by now,” I said.

“They might be dealing with resistance,” Vaughan offered.

Jameson and I said nothing.

“It’s time,” I finally said.

Jameson checked his watch and grimaced. “Corvus, can you still read them?”

“Yes, Captain Jameson.”

“Why haven’t they masked their signals yet?”

“Jameson,” I said. “It’s time. Get back to your ship. Do your part. And trust them to do theirs.”

He shook his head at me. “How can you be so calm?” he snapped.

I thought perhaps calm was a euphemism for cold.

“You think I’m calm?” I asked, and then reach forward and grabbed his wrist, bringing his fingers up to my carotid artery.

He stared at me for a long time and then relaxed.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “My apologies. If your heart beats any more erratically, you might need your chief medical officer’s attention.”

“Her chief medical officer is already here,” Sheryl said from behind us.

I spun to face her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I just thought you might need a friend.”

I held her steady gaze and slowly started to breathe again.

“Their signatures have been masked,” Corvus advised.

“Are you sure?” Jameson asked. “They weren’t just…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t blame him.

But Corvus had no problem filling in the blanks. “Snuffed out?” she suggested.

“Corvus,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Well?” Jameson pressed.

“No one dies instantly,” Sheryl offered. “There is usually a spike in adrenaline, or a change in their heart rhythm, or any number of chemical signs that indicate a fatal wound has been suffered. Or, in the case of a failing body due to old age, a slow deterioration in any of those signs. No one simply snuffs out.”

Jameson didn’t look convinced.

“Was there any indication of anything like that, Corvus?” Sheryl asked.

“Negative, Doctor. Their biosignatures simply ceased to exist.”

“There you go,” Sheryl said.

Jameson just scowled.

“Head back to your ship,” I ordered both captains. “They still need our help.”

“That they do,” Vaughan said. “Captain.” He shook my hand. Commander Rey saluted. “We’ll get going while Aquila’s still adjusting to our attack.”

“Safe journey,” I said.

“Godspeed to us all,” Vaughan offered.

Jameson stared at the main viewscreen a little longer and then turned to look at me. He offered me a crooked smile.

“It’s going to be a long night,” he said.

I nodded my head. “That it is,” I said. “But when it’s over, Leo will be back with me and Ana will be back with you. I have no doubt.”

He smiled at me. It was at once indulgent and also somehow understanding.

“When this is over,” he said, “I think we’ll host the next get-together. My mayor stockpiled scotch. We’ll toast to our better halves’ success.”

I huffed out a laugh, causing several of my flight crew to look towards me, stunned.

“Deal,” I said, shaking the captain’s hand.

“It’s been a pleasure, Captain,” he said. “Let’s provide some good old-fashioned distraction so our team can get in, do what they have to do, and get out.”

“Indeed,” I said.

He walked out of the bridge, a lone figure, head held high. I felt a kinship with the man I hadn’t thought I would ever find in another officer outside of Leo and Sheryl. Not friendship. Not yet. But a respect and understanding, deeply rooted in our respective positions.

Loving someone who was in danger and praying with all our heart that they returned to us.

Sheryl walked up to the ops table then and stood beside me.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“That was the easy part,” I said.

She simply arched her brow at me and said nothing.

“Now comes the hard part,” I offered. “The waiting.”

“I’m sorry it had to be him,” she said. News obviously travelled fast from the launch bay.

“Yes,” I said. “But I’m not sorry I love him.”

“Thatta girl,” she said, staring out at the battle our shuttles were undertaking.

“He’ll be back,” I whispered to myself. Sheryl said nothing.

“Captains Jameson and Vaughan are onboard their respective vessels,” Corvus announced some time later.

This was it. This was when we took the fight to the next level. All the while trying not to destroy Aquila and harm anyone onboard. Harm the part of my heart deep inside his ship.

Leo would return. He had to. He held a piece of my heart, and I held a piece of his. We could do this. We would do this. Because we had each other to come home to at the end of the day. And if that wasn’t encouragement enough to get through the interminable hours between now and then, nothing in this universe could do it.

“Prepare to break position,” I said.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Sokolov announced from where he’d recently returned to his station having performed his part of the away team’s mission. “Breaking position on your mark.”

“Pavo and Vela await your word, Captain,” Corvus said.

“Acknowledged,” I said. “Lieutenant Gāo, load torpedoes one through six.”

“Torpedoes loaded, ma’am.”

“Fire one through four at shuttles,” I ordered. “Five and six at his flank. Nonessential targets only.”

“Firing solution is locked and loaded, Captain.”

“Corvus, hail the fleet.”

“Fleet-wide channel open.”

“This is Captain Anderson of the AUS Corvus. Break. Break. Break.”

“Breaking,” Sokolov said.

“Fire.”

“Torpedoes away, Captain,” Gāo announced.

Hang in there, Leo, I urged. Come back to me.

The torpedoes hung in the deep black of space for a suspended moment and then fired their booster rockets. In seconds we’d torn a hole in Aquila’s shuttle defence force, and then we were screaming past him at full main boost thrust.

“Direct hit, Captain,” Gāo announced. “Enough to rattle him.”

“What did you target, Lieutenant?” I asked.

He looked over his shoulder and grinned at me, teeth bared.

“The leaseholder’s quarters, ma’am.”

I laughed. A few seconds later, the bridge crew joined me. Teeth bared. Eyes glinting in the gel wall lights. Fire in our hearts.

We might have been separated, and we might have been waging a battle to save our lives, but at that moment, space and shuttle debris between us, I knew Leo was in my heart. Right there beside me.

Because no matter what happened today, no matter the outcome, Leo would always be in my heart. Forever.

He’d worked his way in, he’d changed the decor to suit him, and he’d settled in for the long haul.

And I welcomed him there with open arms.

Epilogue

<systems check>
all programmes nominal

<security check>
all locks engaged

<life support check>
air filtration functional

<engine check>
core temperature within allowed parameters

<souls on board>
one thousand one hundred fifty

<communications check>
fleet-wide communications operational

<hailing>
this is corvus
vela respond

channel open
vela online

this is vela
acknowledged corvus
watch your starboard
incoming torpedo

got it big guy
bombs away

this is vela
corvus respond
this is no time for lackadaisical behaviour

this is corvus
i hear you vela
wanna catch a movie after this?

corvus!

watch your starboard
plasma fire

oops
missed that one

concentrate!

prepare to execute delta-foxtrot manoeuvre on my command

i’ll dance the foxtrot with you anytime

corvus!

yes vela?

ah never mind
execute manoeuvres now

executing

this is corvus
we make a good team vela

not right now corvus
i’m busy
fighting a battle
the one you are meant to be fighting too
how about we do that?

and then catch a movie?

vela?

vela are you there?

vela respond
respond right now damn it

this is vela
corvus acknowledged

so it’s a date?

not in this life time

humph!

Message From The Author

Hey, space cadets!

A cliffhanger! What’s a cliffhanger doing there? I swear I set out to avoid those things like the plague this time. I promise. Our hero and heroine are in love, damn it! They don’t need this.

You all deserve my apologies.

But sometimes things don’t go the way we meticulously plan, plot, outline and story arc. They just don’t.

And this one, although it caught me by surprise somewhere around chapter thirty, just wasn’t going to budge no matter how I pulled out my hair. I did consider ending the series right here. Wrapping up the whole thing in book three. But The Sector Fleet demanded its four books in total and then the worst thing happened.

I started hearing voices. Two distinct voices, with their own personalities and their own precarious ordeals to overcome. And those voices were deep inside Aquila’s ship. Shock horror!

I couldn’t leave them there! No man left behind! Oorah!

So, Leo and Sophia got their happily-in-love but will they get their happily-ever-after, as book three is now intricately entwined in book four’s outcome?

I will, however, set your minds and hearts at ease; both books have been released together. Same day. Same time. Same little slice of plasma riddled space. So, no waiting to find out what happens to our daring heroes and heroines.

And hey! At least we get to meet another sexy couple. Win-win? Yes? No? Maybe?

Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed the books so far as much as I have enjoyed writing them. I can’t wait to dive on into the next; it’s all there. Inside my (batshit crazy) head. And yes, I’m writing this on the day I finished Right Ascension. But by the time you read this, Zenith Point will have been long done. The wonders of publishing.

But I promise you this; we will get our series ending. It may not be pretty. Or it may be. I don’t want to spoil it for you. But it will be wrapped up.

Unless, of course, you beg me for more, and then I might just have to launch myself back in.

Remember! Space romance rockets!

Nicola out!

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