Mila's Shift

by Danielle Forrest

  I overheard something today. I didn’t see the people, and they didn’t say anything threatening or suspicious, but they kept talking about plans and the USS Orleans.

  Mila closed the file and opened the next one.

  I heard those voices again. Same place, same time. Still didn’t see them. I wish I could recognize their voices, but I don’t think I’ve ever met them before. I’m certain they’re up to no good.

  I considered going to a supervisor, but who? And with what? All I have are suspicions.

  One of them is particularly angry. Not a specific kind of anger, just angry at the universe, the kind that bleeds into their personalities until it defines them.

  Mila moved on to the next file.

  Okay, I’m buying a digital voice recorder tomorrow. I wish I knew where the voices were coming from, but the building is old, and they’re coming from the vents. They could be anywhere.

  The angry one yelled at the other for “endangering” the cause. I’m not sure I want to know what that means.

  The next date was the first with an audio file as well. She opened text file, this one much longer than the earlier entries. May had written notes on her recordings. She’d left the recorder in the vent, then recharged the battery and downloaded the audio. The entries trailed on and on.

  Mila scrolled through the documents in the directory. She clicked the last one, dated the same day May texted Mila.

  I’ve finished going through yesterday’s audio and I’m shocked. The anger, the hate. I know their plans now. They’re going to sabotage the Orleans.

  I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to trust. From the sound of their communications, they have a lot of co-conspirators. What if I go to someone and they’re in on it?

  I have to do something, though. I can’t let them succeed. I need advice. I need help. God, I miss Mila. She has a moral compass that always points north. But will she answer my call? I haven’t seen her in so long…

  Mila closed the document before it went into every little minute detail of May’s last day of surveillance. She leaned against the wall, wondering what to do. What could she do?

  She would look suspicious if she said, “Oh, sorry, Captain. I forgot I’d been running secret surveillance on some yahoos plotting to destroy the ship we’re on. Maybe this will help?” But maybe she wouldn’t have to.

  She scanned through the files again, looking for information. Names, anything that pinpointed the writer. She checked the metadata, but it only listed a branch of the military, not a specific author.

  She opened the audio files, listening for her voice somewhere, anywhere. The drive contained hundreds of hours of surveillance. She couldn’t listen to it all, but it didn’t seem like May used any of the recordings to jot down her own thoughts.

  Now she just needed a believable story.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mila gnawed on her lip as she approached, knocked, and waited for the worst.

  “Come in.”

  She eased the door open and peeked inside. “Captain Faulk, sir?”

  “Yes, Trace. Can I help you?”

  The captain sat at his desk, going over something on his computer display, maybe a shift report. No tension ramped up his form and for the first time since she’d arrived on board, he wasn’t giving her an odd look. He seemed… normal.

  “I…” She pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “You might want to see this, sir.” She walked to his desk, spine straight, and reached out her hand, which held the small USB key.

  He took it and plugged it into his display. For a few moments, he scanned through the contents, his expression growing steadily darker. Without conscious thought, she inched backward. By the time he looked up, her back pressed against the double doors, trying and failing to maintain a military at ease posture.

  He tried to keep his voice level, calm. “How long have you had this?”

  “Uh. Since before we took off, sir. The day before, in fact.” She gripped her hands behind her back, her nails digging into her skin.

  He stood slowly as he spoke, somewhat calm at first. “You mean to say you’ve had this the entire time and didn’t bother to bring it forward.” By the end of the sentence, he was yelling at her.

  Mila sputtered, trying to get words out and failing miserably. “I… but… you…”

  “Spit it out!” he said as he rounded his desk, coming even closer to Mila.

  She whimpered as he came past the chairs on her side of the desk. Within moments, he towered over her. She couldn’t look him in the eye. Just pretend he’s not there. Hard to do when she was staring straight at his chest.

  She started blabbering. “I didn’t know what it was, sir. A friend gave it to me. I never connected it until now. But after that guy sent me that note and kept trying to kill me? It put the mugging in a new light, so I went through everything I had with me. I found the USB key. It wasn’t mine. My friend gave it to me. I swear I didn’t know what it was.” Tears poured down her face, but she tried to keep her composure, keep it professional, even if she barely remembered what that was anymore. “I swear, captain, I swear. I just wanted to know why someone wanted me dead, sir. I just wanted to know.”

  Her spine grew straighter as she talked, but she also pressed against the door, defeated and cornered. Still, she tried to maintain her dignity as the captain continued to tower over her.

  He sighed. “It’s all right. It’ll be all right. Who was this friend? What do you know about her?”

  “I don’t know anything about her. Not anymore. We haven’t spoken in years.”

  He nodded and moved back, giving her space. “I see. Can you summarize the details on the drive?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t go over it in any detail. When I realized what was on it, I brought it straight here, sir.”

  He nodded again. “Good. Very good. What do you know about it then?”

  “A conspiracy, sir. She overheard something, a conversation. She knew something was up, so she bought a recorder. Near the end, she realized what was going on, and she texted me out of the blue. She didn’t know who to turn to, where to go. She didn’t know who to trust. She died that day.”

  “What?”

  “In the mugging. She was killed, sir.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Mila shrugged, even though it cut to the bone thinking of May bleeding out in that alley. “We didn’t know each other anymore, sir. I think I mourned what we used to have more than the actual person.”

  “Any more details?”

  “They wanted to sabotage the Orleans, the mission, whatever it is.”

  The captain nodded.

  Mila didn’t ask why. She didn’t want to know. Above her pay grade.

  She started to calm and looked up, realizing the captain was smirking at her. “What, captain?”

  “Nothing. I was just wondering. Where are your shadows?”

  “I-I… I kind of lost them.”

  A good-natured laugh spilled from his lips. For the first time, he didn’t scare her. He moved back a few steps and sat on the edge of his desk. This time, it didn’t feel threatening. It felt normal, lazy, relaxed.

  “I imagine you have questions.”

  “It’s none of my business, sir.”

  “But I think it is. Your life is at risk here.”

  “I suppose it is, sir.”

  He sighed. “This ship is on a diplomatic mission.”

  “A diplomatic mission with whom, sir?”

  “With what is more like it,” he mumbled. “The US government, along with a slew of other countries from the UN, are initiating treaties with the Incirrina. It’s a monumental occasion. It’s the first time humans have started negotiations with another species.

  “But there are also some factions that have no desire to see humanity peddling to these foreign races. The mission had to be covert. You know how humans can be.”

  “Yeah, just look what they did to shifters,” Mila mumbled, then s
lapped a hand over her mouth, realizing how inappropriate that comment was.

  He didn’t even blink. “Exactly. We aren’t kind to those we consider different from ourselves.”

  “So, are you saying you don’t hate shifters like most people do?” Mila perked up, looking him straight in the eye, not sure what she hoped for. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she would regret the question and what it might reveal about herself.

  “Everyone deserves a chance. I don’t believe in blaming someone for the actions of others. For example, if you were a shifter,” he said, pointing to her, “I wouldn’t blame you, consider you a killer, simply because another shifter on this boat is. You are not it.”

  “Him,” she said as she nodded. “I think I could come to like you, captain.” She seriously needed to install a filter on her mouth, though.

  “Anyway, back to the discussion at hand. Our governments are initiating these treaties to prevent future conflicts. A lot of alien species travel the stars and not all are as peaceable as the Incirrina. This would ensure the safety of the human race.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Good, I have to organize a meeting. A lot of people need to know about these developments. Do you mind?” he asked, motioning to the chair in front of his desk.

  Mila shook her head, seating herself as she watched the captain set up a meeting, calling people, his head of security, his lieutenant. She waited and after a few minutes, he put down the phone and motioned her to follow him.

  “Where we going now?”

  “Conference room. I do small meetings here, but too many people need to hear this. They’ll never fit.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  He pulled open the double doors in a grand gesture you expected to see in movies and marched down the hallway, forcing the shorter Mila into a jog to keep up. They made a couple turns, then he pushed another set of double doors open, walking into a space large enough to fit a few dozen people. Lieutenant Braddock was already setting things up.

  The captain walked across the room, motioning her to sit near him. When the lieutenant finished, he sat to the captain’s right. When the head of security entered, he sat between her and the captain.

  For the next ten minutes, people she had never seen before filed into the conference room, making her increasingly uncomfortable. All of them seemed soft, non-military, about as non-military as she did, only with less attitude. As she watched, she tried to assign traits to them, surmise their roles in life. Then it hit her… they were diplomats. Of course!

  Though they wore the station of military crew members, she felt certain they were here to ensure the negotiations this entire mission aimed to achieve. Hiding them among the crew would be the perfect way to disguise the ship’s purpose.

  When the room settled, the captain stood and spoke. “We have some developments. As you know, an assassin plagues this vessel. The bulk of our security force is in pursuit of this felon.

  “Through new intelligence I received only moments ago, it has become clear we have a conspiracy against this mission. Multiple people are trying to sabotage this ship and the diplomatic mission she is tasked with. We surmised, based upon new evidence, that that is the reason the assassin is on board. It was sent here to ensure we didn’t learn of this plot, which was brought to our attention by Pilot May Trace.”

  Mila’s eyes widened. She shrank back in her seat as all eyes focused on her. Oh shit.

  “Trace? Would you care to give a report on what you discovered?”

  Her wide eyes fixated on the captain who smiled reassuringly at her. She stood and stared a hole in the opposite wall. “I uncovered intelligence regarding verbal correspondence between two parties conspiring against this mission. The audio and text haven’t been completely analyzed, but it’s clear the Orleans, and this mission, were the intended targets.

  “Also, since the one who gathered this information was killed shortly before the ship departed, it’s reasonable to assume the two are related. And that the assassin was contracted to keep the plot secret.” She looked nervously at everyone around her, then meekly sat.

  “Thank you, Trace. Likely the attack a few days ago, which Pilot Trace skillfully outmaneuvered, is also connected. We believe there may be more conspirators on board.”

  “What?”

  “What are you going to do about this?”

  “Silence, please. As I said, we are currently sending much of our manpower toward the goal of capturing this assassin. We’ll be having a second meeting after this one to plan strategies. Rest assured,” he said, staring down most every person at the table, “we will do everything in our power to ensure this mission is a success.” Mila noticed that he didn’t stare at her or the head of security. What did that mean?

  “Now, if you’ll all kindly take your leave, we can get to the business of dealing with these new threats.”

  The room cleared reluctantly. None of the diplomats seemed willing to leave it at that. Tension grew in the air, the urge to argue the point energizing it. Mila imagined the captain having to deal with them barging into his office at all hours, wasting his time on frivolities.

  It took a while, but they all left, leaving only the captain, his lieutenant, the head of security, and Mila.

  “Ideas?”

  The head of security spoke. “Security’s tight. We don’t have the manpower for this, not with the current manhunt and security details.” He discretely eyed Mila, clearly indicating he disliked the waste of resources on a lowly pilot.

  “I agree,” the captain said, relaxing back in his seat.

  A thought crossed Mila’s mind. “Captain?”

  “Yes, Trace.”

  “How did they know where to attack? That just occurred to me. In sub-space, it’s hard to pinpoint a target. Almost impossible. It takes advanced mathematics and calculations. It can’t be done without a computer. And even then, we don’t have to file flight plans like with Earth air travel. We could take millions of routes. So how did they find us?”

  “Hm, good question,” the head of security said begrudgingly.

  Mila shrugged and smiled. “My best guess is someone told. Most likely via TAT. It’s the only way to send long range communications. And it would have to be long range.

  “It leaves two options. One, a person of no real skill sent a message, loading the message to send to the fleet that attacked us. The problem with that scenario is that the military screens messages randomly. Their plot could be thwarted before it started.

  “The second would require a long range communications officer to send a message directly to the fleet. That’s a pretty narrow suspect pool. There are only six officers on board.”

  “Excellent. Great idea, Trace.”

  “Thank you, captain. We should check the message directory to see which category it falls under.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  “We could have home base run security checks,” Avery said.

  “Wouldn’t that take too long? I mean, doesn’t it take months to run a check? And we’re talking hundreds.”

  “True, but we don’t need full reports, only affiliations. Braddock?”

  “Yes?”

  “I want computer specialists going over that USB key of Trace’s with a fine toothed comb.”

  “I’ll be right on it.”

  “And get more than one person on it. Don’t forget there are wolves in our midst. We could very well be sending this information directly to the enemy.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll take care of sending the request to home base,” the captain continued.

  Mila leaned forward to speak. “You should watch the communications officer as they send it. Make sure they really send it, and unaltered, sir.”

  “Yes, good, Trace. Thank you. And could you help me with going over the messages in the TAT system?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Okay, dismissed.”

  And boy, did she have no idea wha
t she would be getting herself into.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The captain told the head of security, Avery, to continue with the manhunt. He sent Lieutenant Braddock to his office to pick up the USB key while he dragged Mila to the bridge. She followed while her two shadows marched a few feet behind her.

  People turned and looked at them as they arrived, surprised to see the captain, no doubt. Most rarely or never saw him. He manned one shift on the bridge while he had subordinates do so on the other two shifts. If something happened while he was off duty, his subordinate would call him.

  That was the part she’d never understood about the old space travel shows and movies. It was always the same pilot, same communications officer, same captain. They were always in the same seats. No variation. But systems on board a spaceship had to run twenty-four hours a day. Where were the other shift personnel?

  She followed him to the communications console.

  “Move,” he said, the officers scurrying out of his way. He started typing, his fingers flying over the display, which had an on-screen keyboard. He turned to one of the communications officers who’d fled. “I need this sent back to home base. Now.”

  “Yes, captain,” he said while returning to his seat, where the captain hovered.

  She felt sorry for the poor guy. She knew what it was like being on the receiving end of his menacing demeanor. Of course, maybe he was one of the conspirators, in which case, he deserved it.

  The captain watched the officer’s every move, watched the screen. Nothing would slip by him.

  “Good,” he turned. “Back to work, everyone. Trace, let’s go.”

  The captain had a fondness for grand entrances. Every time he went through a set of double doors, he shoved or pulled them both open. Dramatic much?

  He walked around his desk and sat. “Have a seat, Trace.” Picking up the phone, he said, “IT.” After a moment in silence, it connected. “I need a mobile computer display. Yes. Now. Thanks.”