Someone to lean on.
Someone to trust.
Someone to love.
I smiled at him and then looked back down at the code.
“Well,” I said. “This is different.”
“Yeah,” Leo agreed. “I guess it’s safe to say, that Corvus has proved the theory that AIs will one day surpass man.”
“Should I be concerned?” I asked.
Leo thought about that for a second and then shook his head.
“Not with Corvus. Aquila, on the other hand…”
“Yes,” I said. “He is definitely a worry.”
Leo tapped at his console, playing with the intricate and somewhat bizarre code.
“I can’t do anything with this, Sophia,” he admitted at last.
“What about life support? Can you tackle that and leave this to Corvus?”
“Yes. Although she’d be far quicker at fixing whatever is wrong than me.”
I looked back at the viewscreen. Aquila was closer to Pavo now than us. We had to warn the Sector Two vessel. If we didn’t, Aquila could catch them off guard. If he destroyed Pavo, then it wouldn’t matter if we had life support.
“Do it,” I said. “Corvus, hand over life support to Lieutenant Commander Saitō.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“And get me an open line to Pavo,” I said. “Stat.”
“No one says ‘stat’ anymore, Captain,” Corvus advised. “That’s old school.”
I arched my brow at Leo. He just laughed.
Starting to walk back toward my command chair, I said, “So, what do all the hip kids say instead?”
“Hip? Are you mad?”
I shared an incredulous look with Kulik and sat down in my chair.
“I see we need to have a chat about your command of the English language, Captain,” Corvus announced.
I let out an audible sigh, which had several officers sniggering at their stations. I offered a pertinent stare that shut them the hell up.
“Please,” I said, settling in for a lecture. “Do tell.”
Anything to keep the nerves at bay while we waited for Aquila to act.
Thirty-Eight
We Need To Talk
Leo
Life support wasn’t as big an issue as I’d thought it would be. But that could have been because Corvus had already done most of the work. I finished off what needed to be done and ran a diagnostic, and then turned my attention to the problem of Aquila fooling Pavo.
We were too far away to use the navigation system to communicate. And even if we weren’t, there was no guarantee that they’d pick up the unusual signals. Our fleet had received nav comms from us during our voyage constantly, so any change in them had been obvious to the navigation officers onboard.
We needed fleet-wide comms. And we need it…stat.
“Corvus,” I said. “Can I help?”
“Negative, Leo. This is not something you can assist me with.”
“Are you sure? I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
“Oh, I know that, Leo.”
“But I can’t help?” I checked.
“Negative.”
I tapped my finger on my science console for a few seconds and then said, “How close are you?”
“Close.”
“One minute? Five? Ten?”
“Leo.”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
“OK,” I said.
I checked the rest of the bridge. Everyone was working or observing Aquila’s slow progress. Sophia was in discussion with Kulik over by the command chair. It looked like the first officer was hanging off her every word. I watched them for a moment, thinking that could have been me not him.
And then I shook my head.
No. Sophia would never have gone for a relationship with her first officer. It just wasn’t in her nature to abuse the command structure like that. Simon had been a stickler for chain of command, too. He would have instilled the same standards in his granddaughter.
That’s why he’d written the code, really. Well, part of the reason why. He’d wanted to protect humanity, but he’d also wanted there to be a clear chain of command. If humans were in possession of a kill switch, that meant they were at the top of the food chain.
No matter how advanced an AI became, the code he’d written would always find the rogues amongst them. And destroy them.
I took one last look at Commander Kulik and Sophia and decided; I could live with that. I could live with not being first officer if it meant I could be something more. Something infinitely better.
I could be the person she let her guard down with. The person she turned to outside of command. I could be the person who held her when it all got too much. I could be the person she celebrated with when she didn’t want to make a fuss.
I could be all of that and so much more.
I glanced away from the captain and first officer and took in the code Corvus was working on, impressed all over again at how the AI had developed.
“You’ve done well with this,” I said softly.
“Thank you, Leo. I am designed to evolve and adapt.”
“Yes, you are, Corvus. But you’re also a product of your experiences. And I’d say you’ve kicked those experiences in the arse, and come out the victor.”
“I have, haven’t I?”
“Absolutely. I’m proud of you, Corvus.”
There was silence from the AI for a moment and then she said, “That means a lot to me, Leo. Thank you.”
I smiled, just as the code was completed with an unnecessary flourish. But there was no denying it was an intricate, adaptive, beautiful piece of work. Just like Corvus.
“It’s stunning,” I said.
“Do you understand it?”
“Some of it.” I shook my head. “But I don’t need to understand all of it, Corvus. I just need to know you made it and it’s the best code to suit our purposes; there can be no better.”
“There is no better,” she said, with no small amount of hubris.
“Don’t let it go to your head, kid,” I said, chuckling.
Corvus giggled in return. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Captain,” I called out. “Corvus’ code is ready.”
“All right, then,” Sophia replied. “Red alert.”
The gel walls morphed from the orange they’d been changed to, when shots had ceased being fired, to red.
“Dazzle us with our brilliance, Corvus,” Sophia said. “And get me a direct line to Captain Jameson onboard Pavo.”
“Yes, Captain. Code initiating. Stand by.”
We waited with bated breath as Corvus ran her new communications programme. A programme I could only describe as simply impressive. From what I’d been able to determine, the security protocols alone were so complex that cracking them would have taken an enormous amount of computing power. More power than I was sure any of the Anderson Universal AIs had.
It was beyond clever. It was truly revolutionary. Corvus could have made a pretty penny back on Earth with this new way of writing code. The human in me was anxious for it to work. The science officer in me had no doubt of its success.
“Communications coming online in three…two…one,” Corvus said. “Hailing Pavo, Captain.”
Sophia looked over her shoulder at me. We shared a private look of hope and pride and, I’ll admit, a little fear. Had Aquila fixed his comms yet? Had he already turned them against us?
It didn’t matter. In seconds they’d see the face of Anderson Universal and not a psychopathic AI.
“Channel open, Captain,” Corvus announced.
The viewscreen flickered to life and on it stood a man in Anderson Universal uniform. Four bars on his collar. Captain John Jameson at a guess.
“Captain Jameson,” Sophia said.
Jameson leaned closer to his viewscreen, scowling.
“I was expecting Captain Petrov,” he said.
Sophia nodded. “Captain Petrov is dead
.”
“I see,” said Jameson. He didn’t address Sophia as captain, I noted.
The bridge crew squirmed with nerves. Then settled when Commander Kulik glared at them.
“It’s good to see you,” Sophia offered Jameson; dipping a toe in the water.
“The welcome party looks like it started before we got here,” he said.
“It did,” Sophia agreed. “It started when we jumped into this system. Aquila ambushed us.”
“That’s not what they say.”
Damn. Aquila had fixed his communications array.
“If I may ask,” Sophia said, not showing an ounce of concern at Jameson’s standoffish behaviour. She’d faced far worse, I was sure. And it had prepared her.
Experiences, I thought, had a way of making or breaking you. Sophia’s and Corvus’ both had made them into women to be admired. To applaud.
“Was your communication with Captain Moore himself?” she asked.
“Yes.”
That threw her. It threw all of us.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jameson asked.
Sophia’s brow furrowed briefly, just enough to let me know she’d been caught off guard. Not much caught Sophia off guard. But the thought of Captain Moore being the one to fire on us, and not Aquila, was enough to do it.
I didn’t blame her. All of us were staring open-mouthed at the viewscreen, unable to comprehend what had happened. An Anderson Universal captain had started this war.
“I’ll be frank with you, Captain,” Sophia finally said. “That surprises me.”
“I can see that. May I ask why?”
“We suspected that he was no longer in command of Aquila.”
Jameson stared at her for a long time and then nodded his head.
“You’ve confirmed my fears also,” he admitted.
What?
“Would you mind explaining that?” Sophia said in a clipped voice.
Jameson chuckled. It wasn’t an easy laugh, but he did see humour of some sort in all of this.
“Just like your grandfather,” he said. “He always called a spade a spade, and told you to dig fast with it.”
Sophia offered a small smile.
“The video looked doctored,” Jameson said, sobering. “It was hard to detect, but my AI has some unique abilities. He had his doubts.”
He had his doubts.
I looked across the bridge to Sophia, wondering if she’d picked up the choice of pronouns.
Nothing much got past Sophia Anderson.
She simply said, “We need to talk.”
“That we do, Captain. I’m sending coordinates. We’ll keep Aquila busy, while you make your way there.”
“Will do,” Sophia said.
“Oh, and by the way, what the hell have you done to your AI? She’s hitting on Pavo.”
The whole bridge crew moaned out loud as Sophia stood statue still, holding Jameson’s stare.
“We need to talk,” she said. Again.
Jameson just laughed, cutting the communication.
Thirty-Nine
My Turn
Sophia
I walked off the lift at the Deck A central hub and made my way to my quarters. It took everything in me to keep my chin up, my shoulders back, and my spine ramrod straight. Sheryl Lin had just confirmed twenty-eight dead. Nineteen of which were from Habitat Three, Deck H. Repairs were underway while we awaited Pavo. The main boost thrust was at 80% which was more than could have been expected, given the damage it had sustained.
“Twelve vessels from the Sector One and Two Fleets have taken up position in the asteroid field around us, Captain,” Corvus advised through the gel wall.
“Any sign of Pavo yet?”
“Negative, Captain. Pavo is hounding Aquila with the Sector One vessel Chariot. They are a tag team.”
A tag team. I opened my mouth to comment on that and then realised I was too tired to make any sense.
“The ships of our fleet have been contacted and are making their way here also. Repairs are underway to the Seeker and the Valiant with an estimated time to completion of two days. They both report no loss of life.”
I sighed in profound relief.
“Let me know when Pavo and the Chariot arrive, would you, Corvus?” My voice sounded shaky to my ears. Corvus didn’t comment on it.
“Yes, Captain.”
I acknowledged the salutes of two midshipmen from security and took the corridor that led to my quarters and the bridge.
“Captain?” Corvus called.
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure I could say more than one word now; the closer I got to my quarters and consequently my bed, the harder it was to keep up the façade.
“The Chariot is Vela.”
I stopped walking.
“Excuse me?”
“The Chariot is Vela, Captain. His vessel was destroyed on liftoff from Earth, and he is now the Chariot.”
“How the hell…?”
“He is a jerk.”
“Excuse me?”
“Vela. He is a jerk. Very bossy. Not funny bossy like Leo, but bossy bossy like Commander Kulik. Although, I am warming to Commander Kulik. He stroked my gel wall.”
I shook my head and forced my feet forward; I could see the door to my quarters. I was so close. Nothing would stop me now.
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation,” I said. “And I’m equally sure it can wait until I meet with Captain Jameson.”
“Understood, Captain.”
I approached my door. The thought of a shower and my bed was welcoming. I lifted my palm to the bio-scanner, practically ready to fall through the opening face first.
“Captain,” Corvus said.
Not now, I thought frantically.
“Captain,” she said again when I didn’t answer.
The door began to open.
I stepped across the threshold before the door had fully pulled back in the gel wall, almost like a marathon runner sprinting over the finish line before the surprise attack from the runner behind could steal her victory out from under her.
“Made it!” I shouted, just as Corvus said, “Captain, I have to tell you something,” and my eyes landed on Leo.
The door slid shut at my back.
“Surprise!” Corvus said weakly.
“Leo,” I managed to murmur, just before he stepped forward and wrapped me up in his arms.
“Come on,” he said. “You look exhausted. I’ll help you into the shower.”
“Will you join me?” I asked, already forgetting to enquire as to why he was there.
“I think I have no choice.”
“There’s always a choice, Leo,” I mumbled.
“No. Not this time.” I scowled at him. I would not have him think he was obligated to me.
He smiled, laughter in his dark eyes.
“If I don’t shower with you, Sophia, I fear you’ll collapse and drown.”
I let out a relieved breath of air.
“I’ll add my water quota to yours,” he said, “and we’ll both wash off the past twenty-four hours.”
“I’m not sure I’ll last six minutes,” I offered, yawning.
He started to strip my clothes and then quickly made work of his own.
Six minutes suddenly didn’t seem long enough.
He laughed again at the look on my face.
“Ladies first.”
The shower was already running. I nodded my head and stepped under the warm spray, feeling Leo’s skin brush against mine once he’d stepped into the small enclosure behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and reached for the soap.
“Just lean back against me,” he said softly.
I tipped my head back and rested it on his shoulder and closed my eyes as water streamed down all around us and steam wafted up from the floor. Leo started to soap up my stomach, working the lather up over my chest, purposely leaving my breasts to last.
“You’re stunning,” he whispered into my ear, laying a
gentle kiss on the soft skin there. “Beautiful.”
“Tired,” I said.
“I know,” he replied, washing my arms and linking his fingers through mine. “Maybe that’s why this is so easy.”
“Easy?”
“You are a formidable woman, Sophia,” he admitted, continuing to wash me with care and slow strokes of his palms. “On the bridge, you’re a force to be reckoned with. In your ready room, you’re still a little scary. Sexy scary, but scary all the same. Right now, you are soft and deliciously pliable.”
He proved just how pliable I was when his fingers stroked down to the crease between my thighs and then delved into my curls unimpeded.
“I am not pliable,” I argued, arching my back and spreading my legs wider.
“No,” he said, softly. “Not at all.”
His finger dipped inside. I moaned.
“I love the woman I see every day on the bridge.” His thumb stroked over my clit. I shuddered. “I love the woman I see every time I’m in your ready room.” Two fingers delved inside. “And I love the woman I see now, alone in her quarters.”
The orgasm swelled, Leo kept me thrumming, just on the edge of shattering into a million pieces.
“I love everything about you,” he whispered as he tipped me over the cliff.
I moaned, low and loud, the sound echoing in the shower stall. Leo gripped me tightly around the waist and softly stroked me as I came down.
“And now we’ve got that out of the way,” he said, shifting me so he could wash my hair, “I think the rest of it will flow nicely.”
“What?” I said, climax fogged and weak-kneed.
“Like anything new,” Leo said, rinsing my hair off. “It takes practice and time to perfect. You’ve brought me to orgasm, and now I’ve returned the favour. We’re practically old hats at this.”
I laughed as he finished up with me and made quick work of himself. His body was slicked with water; soap suds lovingly slid down over taut muscles. Like all AU officers, he’d have a rigid workout regime. Designed to avoid artificial gravity atrophy. He was a fine specimen of a dedicated Anderson Universal officer.
Right Ascension (The Sector Fleet, Book 3) Page 19