The transport passed one of the thirty-six spherical drones that orbited the Kaelais. Those drones and the integrated technology on board contributed to the five-second advantage Admiral Bayis had been in awe of. Rykus hoped that edge was worth the billions the Coalition had invested into the new ship. He didn’t care what the vessel looked like or how state-of-the-art her design was; he only cared if the Kaelais saved lives.
When the drone’s blinking lights moved out of view, Rykus focused on the ship’s docking bay. The long, horizontal doors had retracted, leaving a gap so wide he didn’t know how the atmospheric shield held. The thick, liquid wall rippled more than usual, but the GTS passed through without collapsing it.
The transport pitched down nose first when the Kaelais’s artificial gravity exerted itself. After a rougher-than-necessary compensation, the pilot eased them into a set of docking clamps.
Rykus rose as soon as the air pressure equalized. His personal belongings had been sent ahead, so he maneuvered around the men and women who were grabbing their duffels and made it to the exit first.
As soon as the door slid open, his comm-cuff vibrated. He glanced at its screen. A synchronization message popped up: the Kaelais asking permission to integrate his profile into her administrative hub. He granted the request, swiped it away, then stepped onto the first metal stair.
Another vibration. Another request. He swiped again.
Two more vibrations and requests followed. Damn virgin ship. If she was as advanced as Bayis claimed, she should be able to predict his preferences and auto-integrate him into—
He froze on the last metal stair. Minister Prime Tersa stood before him, slim arms folded beneath her breasts and impatience in her eyes.
“This is the last transport,” she said. “We should be leaving orbit within the hour. So tell me, Commander, where is your anomaly?”
He stared at the prime. Her posture was so rigid and straight she looked like an ice sculpture on the verge of shattering.
“I take it she’s not on board.” He stepped to the Kaelais’s deck, forcing Tersa to take a step backward.
“She’s lucky she’s not in a prison cell.”
Not the first time those words had been said about Ash.
“What happened?” It took an effort to keep his voice level. He’d seen a look in Ash’s eyes back in that underground room, a momentary madness he’d glimpsed only a few times before. It had been so brief he hadn’t had time to be alarmed, but it worried him.
Tersa tapped on her comm-cuff, then swiped its surface toward Rykus with an unnecessary amount of aggression.
The transfer interrupted the ceaseless synchronization requests, and on the screen, two dead men stared up at the camera. One had a hole in his head, the other had at least six bullets scattered across his torso. There was bruising around the latter’s throat too, and Rykus could imagine the scene: his anomaly taking the bullet-riddled man into a secure choke hold and using his body as a shield while she calmly, effortlessly targeted the second man and pulled the trigger.
“She killed two men in the middle of the day with more than a dozen innocent people looking on.”
“Did she initiate it?” he asked.
“Did she— That’s what you’re concerned about? We now have to delay our departure because one individual decided to visit an old friend minutes before she was to report to the spaceport.”
“Old friend?”
Tersa made a noise. “An attempt was made to take her life, Commander. You’re responsible for her.”
He moved away from the transport so the rest of its occupants could disembark. “I’m also responsible for the other three hundred souls you’ve put me in charge of.”
“She could have been killed.” Tersa’s voice dropped to a whisper as soldiers filed past them.
“Ash can take care of herself,” he said. “As you can see.” He nodded toward her comm-cuff. “Who were they?”
She stared at him. The smooth, stern face didn’t hide the intelligence in her eyes. Tersa hadn’t become minister prime by accident. She was observant and cunning and quite possibly cutthroat, and something about her reminded him of Ash. When Tersa’s gaze flicked down his body and then back up, he realized what it was. Like Ash, Tersa knew how to measure and manipulate people.
“Walk with me.” She pivoted and strode toward the docking bay’s central exit.
Rykus fell into step beside her. She started to say something, but he spoke over her, demanding again, “Who were they?”
Tersa’s mouth tightened. “They were hired thugs. Want to guess where they were from?” Her eyes flicked his way, but she didn’t give him time to respond. “Glory. It’s coincidental, is it not, that her past would take an interest in her now after five years of her being gone? Any idea why that may be?”
“No,” he answered honestly. Ash’s home world was a shit hole. It joined the Coalition almost a century ago. In that amount of time, most planets would have improved and prospered, but Glory broke the pattern. No matter what the Coalition did, the planet sank further into decline. He and Ash hadn’t talked much about her past, but he knew she’d survived on the streets. She’d found ways to coerce protection from the precinct bosses, the crime lords who’d stab her in the back the moment it became profitable. With that kind of life, it was likely she’d pissed off a person or two.
“I want to know who they are and why they attacked,” Tersa said. “You will find out and report it to me.”
The order scraped across his composure like a shuttle that had missed its docking clamps. “I’ll ask her. I won’t command her.”
“It’s imperative we know who those men were.”
“I’m here in case a…” There weren’t any spacers or soldiers in close proximity, but classified information didn’t need to be thrown around a ship’s corridors. “In case someone gains influence over her. I won’t use compulsion unless it’s a matter of life or death.”
“They were there to kill her,” Tersa said. “If she’s dead, we’re blind. Her life can’t be put at risk.”
“Except on this mission of yours,” Rykus said.
Tersa lifted her chin. “This meeting is that important.”
He took a step toward her and demanded, “Why?”
She stood her ground, but her eyes darted away. Maybe because he was intimidating. Maybe because she was hiding something. The time he’d invested digging into her history hadn’t been profitable. He’d found no sign of unethical conduct, no vices or violations of law. She appeared to be the strong, infallible woman that she’d presented to the public two years ago when her home system nominated her for the position of minister prime.
Tersa started walking again. “You haven’t interacted with many people since the events at Ephron. You haven’t seen the fear, the slumped shoulders, the look of defeat so many men and women are carrying with them. The Sariceans dealt us a blow, Rykus. The blow to our confidence was just as great as the blow to Ephron’s infrastructure. Morale could defeat us.”
If the soldiers and spacers heard their leaders talking like that, Tersa might be right. She might be stepping into the void of her own prophecy.
“I want you at my side in an hour,” she continued. “The soldiers you’re now in command of will be assembling on rec deck. All of them except Ashdyn, of course.”
He didn’t want to waste time standing around listening to speeches. He had work to do, but because he was a soldier and he recognized Tersa’s authority as leader of the Coalition, he kept his protest chained.
“Do you know where Ash is?” he asked.
“She better be on the way here.”
“You said she was visiting friends. What friends?”
“Not friends. A friend. An acquaintance. Trevast’s widow lives in that neighborhood.”
Concern latched onto him so suddenly it felt like there was a hitch in the Kaelais’s gravity. Ash had gone to see Lydia. Every instinct urged him to find her, to take her in his arms and
make sure she was okay. On the surface, she dealt with the deaths of her teammates well, but nightmares plagued her sleep. Sometimes they plagued her daylight hours too. She hadn’t accepted their losses yet. Worse, she hadn’t accepted that she wasn’t to blame for their murders.
His comm-cuff picked up its incessant sync requests again. One of them came through as urgent. A quick glance at the screen indicated his personal ID had been marked hazardous.
Hazardous? What kind of glitch was that?
He looked at Tersa, but she was frowning down at her cuff too. Then the V between her brows disappeared and her gaze went to the end of the corridor.
Rykus followed her line of sight to the Fleet officer who strode toward them as if he owned the entire ship. In a way, he did.
Every soldier and spacer Rykus had met had a great deal of respect for Captain Naethan Furyk. He was supposed to be a tactical genius, someone who won every battle and simulation that was thrown at him, and someone whose victories were studied almost as much as the infamous Tobias Locke’s. A few years ago, he’d been projected to become the youngest Fleet admiral in the history of the Coalition, but for some reason that had never happened. Rumor said he was still the best captain in the KU and deserved the admiralty, but there were also whispers that he was incredibly demanding of his crew. He expected precision and adherence to every rule and procedure in both the Fleet Code and the Coalition’s Laws of Military Conduct, and if you stepped out of line even once, you were finished under his command.
But if you could adhere to his high standards, being on his bridge or an officer of a noteworthy department could result in a quick ascension in the ranks.
It was obvious no one was ascending anywhere today. Furyk approached with the posture and expression of a man setting out to commit murder.
His eyes locked on Tersa. “Why do I have orders to delay departure?”
“Captain Furyk.” Tersa punctuated her calm tone with a pleasant smile. “This is Commander Rykus. I believe he can account for the delay.” She shifted her gaze to him. “I’ll see you in an hour, Commander.”
Rykus watched her walk away.
“Explain,” Furyk said.
Rykus looked at the captain. Furyk was tall and fit, and while he might project a powerful front, Rykus was used to staring down soldiers who thought they were the biggest badasses in the Fighting Corps. He wasn’t intimidated.
And Furyk obviously wasn’t intimidated by his reputation. Fair enough. Rykus would be blunt, and the two of them would either get along without a problem, or they’d clash like an Esyllian at a funeral.
“An anomaly is coming on board,” he said. “Her name is Ramie Ashdyn.”
5
Ash spent the time on the short-range jumper poking into her attacker’s comm-cuff to see what she could learn. Predictably, it wasn’t much. His name was listed as Cavan Sarthak, an alias of course, and after scraping off the layers of his fake history, Ash found that he had zero verifiable activities before he departed Glory two weeks ago. It was a dummy comm-cuff. She wouldn’t be able to determine who purchased it without tracking down the seller. Only a few shops in Glory’s capital sold cuffs that would pass the Coalition’s background checks. Ash had a good enough reputation with the shady business owners that she might be able to get a lead on who sent the thugs, but she’d have to travel to Glory and make contact in person. That wasn’t on her present itinerary, but fortunately, it didn’t need to be. She already had a good guess as to who’d sent them. Or rather, a handful of good guesses.
She stuffed the dummy device into her Coalition-issued duffel. She wanted to unhook her own comm-cuff and search the data she’d stolen from Trevast, but cracking into those files would take time, and the private jumper that Prime Tersa had so graciously hired for her was almost to the Kaelais. She’d seen the wide docking bay doors close like a clam a few minutes ago, so the jumper’s pilot maneuvered them to one of the docking tubes that served as backup points of entry. Five minutes later, she swung her duffel over her shoulder and stepped onto the Kaelais’s deck.
Its pristine deck. She’d never been on a ship this unblemished before. Even the recycled air smelled crisp and clean.
“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Ashdyn,” a feminine voice said into the voice-link hooked over her ear. “All Fighting Corps members and nonessential crew are to report to Recreational Deck One. Would you like directions?”
“Essential announcements only, Kaelais,” Ash said. Her preferences should have already been set to that. “But give me directions to my bunk.”
“All Fighting Corps members and nonessential crew are to report to Recreational Deck One. Please proceed to your left. You’ll find Lift Six—”
“Override that order.”
“You don’t have permission to issue overrides.”
Well, wasn’t she an obstinate hunk of metal.
Ash tapped on her comm-cuff and pulled up the auto-interface with the Kaelais. She’d only had this cuff for a month. She was still adding to and altering its programs, and since the Kaelais was the first sentient ship she’d interacted with since going on active duty again, she hadn’t quite adjusted all the algorithms and workflows yet.
She made a not-quite-sanctioned tweak, then said, “Recheck my permissions.”
“No.”
“No?”
The Kaelais didn’t respond, but around the bend in the long corridor, a conveyor-bot approached.
“Your personal belongings will be delivered to your bunk while you proceed to Recreational Deck One.”
Ash thought she heard a note of satisfaction in the Kaelais’s digital voice. New sentient ships were always temperamental. Ash had served on one before that had been less than six months old. The experience had been… annoying, but she’d learned some tricks to get along.
Trick number one: the ship couldn’t give you orders if you couldn’t hear it. She unhooked her voice-link from her ear and shoved it into her pocket. Then she stared at the conveyor-bot. A part of her was curious about the all-call on rec deck, and since she was likely already in trouble for being late, she probably shouldn’t push things further.
She set the duffel on the bot. “Anyone touches that, I’ll rewire your cooling systems.”
The conveyor-bot pivoted with a bit too much flare, then scurried off.
Lift Six was easy to find. Ash took it down two levels to the ship’s rec deck. She wasn’t the only one late to the all-call. A pair of spacers exited the lift with her. The Kaelais had been fully crewed before it arrived in Merykian space, but the two men still scanned the deck as if they were seeing it for the first time.
Ash scanned it too. The rec deck was the largest open area on the ship. It wasn’t limited to just one level. It rose up three decks high. Officers stood on the first balcony, a jogging track that ringed the crowded sport courts and seating areas. A level above the first ring was an obstacle course and above that, a drainable swim circuit. Neither of the last two was in use now. This was a step above the standard rec deck Fleet included in all sentient-class warships. A while back, government officials read a study suggesting extended time on board a ship could be harmful to an individual’s health. Psychologists had insisted on a wide, open recreation area for the “mental soundness” of the crew. Of course, a later addendum to the report stated only a small percentage of the population suffered from space dementia, but by that time the Fleet was unwilling to give up its diversions. And this particular rec deck was one hell of a diversion.
The spacers Ash exited the lift with melted into the attentive crowd. They were listening to an officer rattle on about the technological wonder they were on board. Ash ignored the speaker and strode across the blue tiled floor. The whole ship sparkled, even the honeycomb of circular windows that formed the wall between the upper decks. On the other side of one of those shiny windows was the bunk room Ash would share with the members of her team.
Her stomach twisted at that thought. She wasn’t afraid of them.
Not really. Hauch would likely be an issue, but she could take care of herself. The problem was, living in close proximity to them meant she wouldn’t be able to avoid their banter, their camaraderie, their habits and quirks. She’d have to get to know them, and there was a chance they might not all survive their next mission. And if they did survive it, they might not survive the next one or the one after that.
Ash bit the inside of her cheek, counted to four while she drew in a breath, held it, then counted to ten while she emptied her lungs.
Feeling better, she rimmed the crowd until she found an empty bench circling a column. From it, she wouldn’t be able to see the speakers at the other end of the rec deck, but she could still hear them, and if she really cared to watch the traditional rundown of behavior expectations, drill schedules, and so-called motivational speeches of the upper ranks, she could turn to one of the holovids projecting down from the ceiling.
She settled onto the bench and took out her comm-cuff. The Kaelais was the first ship of her line, and Ash hadn’t had a chance to memorize her layout and specs. That was one thing drilled into Caruth-trained anomalies: always know every detail of every assigned ship and location. That habit had saved Ash’s ass when she’d been imprisoned on the Obsidian, so she intended to keep up the practice. Usually it wasn’t a problem getting the ship specs, but in addition to her financial accounts still being locked down, her current permissions didn’t include access to Level Red classified information.
So she’d just have to make her own access.
Using another unsanctioned application, Ash cloaked her profile, then logged in as a dummy user with administrative clearances. That gave her access to the Kaelais’s databanks. It would still take time to get the individual keys that would translate the encrypted data, but if the officer droning on at the helm-end of the deck was any indication, Ash had plenty of time. She located a mundane system that might be easy to break into, then she put to use those hack-sig classes she’d sat through on Caruth.
Shades of Honor (An Anomaly Novel Book 2) Page 5