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.
Right Ascension (The Sector Fleet, Book 3) Page 9