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

  “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 w
as 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 re
spectable 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.”