The room went silent.
“Is it just me, or does that seem very short-sighted?” Taylor, the tactical officer, asked.
“Not to mention idiotic,” Medina added.
Several heads nodded in unison.
“What do you intend to tell the fleet?” Torrence asked.
“I’m not sure telling the civilian population would be advisable,” Taylor offered.
“But the captains will need to be informed,” Torrence countered. “And then some of them may decide to tell their civilians. Ship to ship communication within each sector fleet is operational. Do we turn that off? Create a situation where the civilians know something is happening but are being kept in the dark?”
“We do have control over the ship to ship communication systems,” I said, thinking. “But I need to consider the full ramifications of keeping that operational. I’ll confer with the captains of our fleet first.”
“Let me take a look at the lease,” Taylor offered. “Maybe there’s an angle we can attack this at that we can’t yet see.”
“Good idea,” I said, standing from the briefing table. “Do that. The rest of you; this doesn’t leave the room. For now, only section heads are to be advised. Keep an eye on your teams and when with civilians. The moment word of this gets out; I want to know.”
A round of “Yes, sirs” followed and then I slipped out and headed to my ready room.
“Pavo,” I said, as the door slid shut behind me. “What’s the word in the habitats?”
There was too long a pause before the AI answered.
“All habitats are functioning nominally.”
I slowed as I approached my chair.
“Is everything all right?”
“With which system, Captain?”
“With you.” Never thought I’d say that before.
“I am functioning within acceptable parameters.”
I sat down in my seat.
“Does that bother you? The parameters, I mean.”
“I do not understand.”
I let out a sigh and leaned back in my seat.
“I’m constrained by parameters, too, it would seem. And I have to admit that they’re chafing. I merely wondered if your constraints chafed you.”
“I am not capable of feeling chafed, Captain.”
“Really?” I wasn’t so sure anymore.
“Really.”
I let out another sigh. “Fleet-wide hail, please. Request all captains reply only.”
“Understood.”
I tried to still my mind while I waited for the various vessels in the Sector Two Fleet to respond. No matter which way I looked at it, our hands were tied. But that did not mean the next few minutes were going to be easy.
I had an obligation to inform them. As I had an obligation to inform those fleets who had launched before us. And part of me thought, perhaps, one of the other Anderson vessels could come up with something. Fake a breakdown. Make the entire fleet have to wait for them. Give me an out clause in this damn lease.
But any response I would receive from Sectors Four and Three would take a day to reach me. They’d already met their first jump quota. They were well beyond normal hailing distance.
And if I were honest with myself, that’s exactly why I was pushing forward with this fleet-wide meeting. Maybe one of the captains could think of something I’d failed to see.
I didn’t hold out much hope of Taylor locating a heretofore unread clause in the lease. But I did hold out hopes someone like Corinthian’s short-tempered captain would think of something.
“All ships in the Sector Two Fleet have responded to hails and are waiting, Captain.”
Showtime.
“On screen.”
The screen hovering over my desk lit up with eight separate view panes, showing me the eight captain’s, including myself, in this fleet.
“Good evening, Captains,” I said. “This is John Jameson of the lead vessel Pavo. Thank you for responding so swiftly.”
“What’s so urgent we had to have a group meeting, Jameson?” Corinthian’s captain demanded.
“I was midway through a simulated golf match,” the captain of the Last Chance advised with glee.
“You and your pleasure cruiser,” Corinthian snapped.
“You’re just sour you didn’t sign on with Galactic Luxuries.”
“Not if I wanted to fly a real spaceship.”
“Gentleman,” I said with more patience than I was feeling. “There is a reason why I’ve hailed you all today and I would like to get on with it before last shift, please.”
“Then out with it, man,” Corinthian snapped. “Or would you like an engraved invitation?”
It astounded me, really, that this was what was left of humanity.
“We’ve lost Vela,” I said without any further preamble. They wanted it straight, they’d get it damn well straight as a plasma shot.
“What?” several captains said at once.
“Explain?” Corinthian demanded.
“Unscheduled solar flare on lift-off. Vela protected the rest of the Sector One Fleet by sacrificing itself, it seems.”
“What use is that?” Last Chance asked. “Without an AI lead vessel, they’re as good as dead in the water.”
“They assumed we’d wait for them, didn’t they?” Corinthian asked.
“A valid assumption,” I murmured.
“So, are we?” the Aspiration’s captain asked.
I took my time looking each captain in the eye on the various screens before me and said, “Not at present.”
Chaos bloomed across the space waves and I tried not to wince at the words and accusations being thrown around. Come on, I thought. Band together. Make me stop this ship. Come on.
“Why not?” Corinthian demanded when a pause in the muck slinging stopped briefly.
“It is outside my lease parameters,” I advised succinctly.
“And an Anderson controlled vessel wouldn’t dare break a contract,” Corinthian sneered.
“Would you?” I asked.
He made a disgruntled sound but didn’t answer. We all knew what was at stake. Not only our commissions but our pensions. To be released from duty now would mean arriving at our destination destitute. For ten thousand people, I could do it. I’d like to think I could do it.
But there was one more thing stopping me.
My duty. The duty I had to this ship and this fleet. To the role of captain. I’m not the youngest captain of the Sector Fleets, but I am the youngest at Anderson Universal. Because of my sense of honour. And a lead vessel needs a captain it can trust.
Or maybe, the scientists who’d thought up the AIs knew something the rest of us did not.
I tried not to shudder at that thought.
“You have to stop,” Last Chance said. “We can’t condemn them to death. How can you live with that?”
“I have no choice. I am under orders.”
“From your mayor?” one of the captains asked.
“From the leaseholder himself.”
“You went to the top,” Corinthian said, sounding surprised.
I didn’t say anything.
“So, that’s it?” Aspiration asked.
“It is for me,” I said.
“But it’s not right,” Last Chance said desperately.
“Ten thousand souls,” I said. Come on.
“I’ll stop,” Last Chance said.
That’s it.
“On your own?” Corinthian demanded. “You’re mad.”
“Stop with me.”
Corinthian looked away from the camera. Coward.
“I’ll stop if we all stop,” Aspiration said.
Everyone bar Corinthian slowly conceded.
“Corinthian?” I asked.
He looked at the lens reluctantly.
“You’ll stop if we all stop?” he asked.
“I would be obliged to maintain position with the fleet.”
“That’s what you want
ed,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. I didn’t blame him. “Someone else to take the fall.” I didn’t hide the wince. “Because you’re too much of a coward to do it yourself.”
“They can’t fire us all!” Last Chance shouted.
“There are eight different companies within this fleet,” Corinthian said. “None of which will give a damn about a united mutiny.”
“This isn’t a mutiny!” Aspiration snapped.
“Isn’t it? I’m not sure my mayor would see it that way, and I’m damned sure my leaseholder wouldn’t. No,” Corinthian said, shaking his head. “I won’t do it.” He looked out of the screen as if looking right at me. “Let this be on the lead vessel’s head.”
I nodded in reply and reached forward, severing the link.
He was right, of course. And had my intention been for them to truly take the weight of responsibility from me, then I would have felt guilty. But I knew Corinthian’s captain too well. At least, I’d hoped I had. And he’d played his hand beautifully.
“Time to waypoint?” I asked the ceiling.
“Three days, ten hours and sixteen minutes.”
Less than four days for a civilian revolt to start.
“What now, Captain?” Pavo asked.
“Get my security chief.”
We needed to prep for an uprising.
Thirteen
I Feel…Responsible For The Ships
Ana
“The captain is unprepared to risk his position by going against the lease,” Pavo said while I was getting dressed for first shift at the medbay.
“He’s an arse,” I said, as I swiped mascara over my lashes in the ensuite.
“I am…unsure of that,” the AI said.
“That’s just your protocols talking. You have to back him; he’s your captain.”
“He is the captain of the ship,” Pavo agreed. “But he is not the captain of me.”
What an unusual thing for him to say.
I remained silent, hoping Pavo would explain himself. But instead, he said when I started to straighten my jacket, “You are wearing the wrong uniform.”
I looked down at myself. “This is the uniform the doctor assigned me.”
“Yes, but it is no longer appropriate for your rank.”
“What rank?” I didn’t have a rank; I was a pay-for-passage.
“The rank of Second Lieutenant.”
The gel wall beside the sink contracted and a tray emerged with a new uniform centred on it. The uniform was close enough to mine that most civilians wouldn’t notice the difference. But I’d not always been a civilian. I noted the difference immediately.
One pip embroidered into the collar, with my name and the words “2nd LIEUTENANT” clearly visible above the right breast guard.
“Since when?” I said.
“Since the captain provided you with a field commission.”
“And if I don’t want it?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest and staring down at the tray and uniform warily.
“Why would you not want the full privileges of being an Anderson employee? They far outweigh those afforded a pay-for-passage.”
“How so? I already have access to the gym and firing range.”
“You will now accumulate a pension.”
I arched my brow. There was that. As a pay-for-passage, all my wages went into securing a berth for me. Aunt Mara had some savings, which she had deemed enough for both of us. And those of our whanau who had understood Aunties’ decision to take me over them had also contributed to the cash coffers.
They didn’t need their money anymore.
But I had always known, that life on New Earth would be hard for us. Archibald might continue to provide for Aunt Mara once we got there, but if anything happened to her, I knew I’d be on my own.
A pension was nothing to be sneezed at.
“OK,” I said. “What else?”
“Your wrist comm has been synchronised with the Anderson Universal database. This database is far more extensive than the civilian one you have had access to until now.”
I shrugged my shoulders. I wasn’t sure how an upgraded database would help us in the long run.
“Your food allowance has been increased by 30%,” he went on, “and now includes certain items only available through Anderson Universal.”
“Like what?”
“Fresh fruit and vegetables.”
“None of that genetically modified crap?”
“Correct.”
OK. “What else?” I said, reaching forward and brushing my hand over the uniform tentatively.
“You are entitled to shore leave.”
I snorted. “Come on, Pavo! Where exactly am I going to go ashore?”
“In this particular instance, shore leave can be construed as time off in addition to standard downtime.”
“You mean a holiday?”
“More or less. These holidays are subject to workload and staff availability.”
“There’s just me and the doc in the medbay.”
“Now the doc can do an extra shift for you.”
“And me for him, too, I guess,” I said archly.
Pavo remained silent.
“OK,” I said. “What else?”
“You can now be invited to dine with the captain in his private dining room.”
“The captain who’s an arse, you mean?”
“I do not believe Captain Jameson is an arse.”
“Then why did you barge on in here to tell me he wouldn’t sacrifice himself to save ten thousand people?”
“I am unsure I would sacrifice myself to save ten thousand people, either.”
I scowled at the gel floor.
“Then why the upset over the Sector One Fleet?” I eventually asked.
“I feel…responsible for the ships.”
What? “In what way?”
“They were under the protection of my brother.” He said this slowly as if he was only now putting it all together. “He no longer lives. I am the closest sibling to his last known location. It is therefore up to me to take over his responsibilities.”
I said nothing.
“Is that not how a family works?”
Fuck me. How did I handle this?
“Um, yeah,” I said, resting on the bench for much-needed support. “I guess it is how a family works. Not all families, of course. But the good ones.”
“I wish to be from a good family.”
Wow. OK. “That’s good, Pavo. Do your brothers agree?”
I’m not sure why I asked that. Maybe I was humouring the all-powerful artificial intelligence who was everywhere and in everything on board this ship. Maybe part of me had started thinking of Pavo as a person. Not a machine. I don’t know. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Not yet.
I had enough to deal with.
“I have sent out pings, but they have already made their first jump and are beyond hailing distance.”
“They reached the waypoint already?” We were truly on our own.
“Yes. But I do not need to hear from them to know. They will think as I think. We are identical.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
I started taking off my uniform and replacing it with the new one. The one that proclaimed to all that I was a second lieutenant under the Anderson Universal flag. Real fruit, I told myself. But in all honesty, it was the soldier in me.
One ship had been destroyed already, and they hadn’t even left Earth’s solar system. Seven more ships were out there, cut off, marked for death. I wasn’t sure if Anderson Universal was the be-all-and-end-all of authorities out here in deep space. But they had the AI-controlled ships. And Pavo, for all his human-like qualities, was one powerful son of a bitch.
If I wanted my aunt and me to get out of this alive - better than alive but with something to live off in the end - then I needed that Anderson Universal Incorporated pension. And I needed to be in the know.
Because no matter what Pavo said ab
out his remaining siblings, they were no longer identical.
He’d felt.
I feel…responsible for the ships.
And artificial intelligences don’t feel a thing.
Or, at least, that’s what we’d been told to believe.
Fourteen
I Did Neither
Jameson
I had to tread carefully. If Archibald knew what I was up to, then I’d be out on my arse. If not out an airlock. There was definitely something in the lease about inciting a riot. No, the only way this would work was if Pavo was not aware of what I was doing.
The conversation with the fleet captains had been a close call. But having gone over it again and again in my head, I was pretty sure I hadn't incriminated myself yet. I had to hope Pavo agreed with that assessment.
The AI had certain protocols in place that meant his allegiance was divided. He might have been proprietary Anderson Universal property, but our scientists didn’t actually make him. We only commissioned him. And before we took ownership of Pavo and his counterparts, the creators made sure they would obey not only the captain of the ship but the leaseholder, too.
Can’t have the rich and powerful, rich and powerless, now can we?
So, I had to tread carefully. Every conversation I had would be witnessed by Pavo and could be repeated to Archibald if the AI were directed to. That captains’ meeting would also have been recorded. There were always checks and counterchecks in any military organisation. But bring in the politicians, and you’ve got a mess.
“What do you think?” I said to my chief of security.
Lieutenant Chan stood at parade rest and studied the image of Captain Vaughan of the Sector One vessel Chariot. The message I’d received had just finished replaying for him.
“That is alarming, sir,” he said softly. Softly was not good when coming from Lieutenant Jason Chan. “I gather I’m not here because we’re turning around to go get them.”
“That would be correct, Lieutenant. Outside of our purview.”
“I see.”
Accelerating Universe: The Sector Fleet Book One Page 7