Right Ascension (The Sector Fleet, Book 3) Page 4

  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 back
ground. 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 sn
iggered. “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.