Right Ascension (The Sector Fleet, Book 3) Read online

  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 shi
p. 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 smi
le.

  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.