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.
“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.”
Right Ascension (The Sector Fleet, Book 3) Page 11