Apparent Brightness

by Nicola Claire

  “Shall we have this conversation in my ready room, Vela?” I suggested. “Brecht…”

  “Yes, sir. I have the bridge, sir.” He looked at me with a shitload of empathy. At least it wasn’t with judgement.

  I sighed and stood from my command chair, exiting the bridge and heading to my ready room door. As soon as it slid shut behind me, I let out a moan of distress. This could not be happening.

  “Captain?”

  “Yes, Vela, I am in a sexual relationship with Commander Rey. Your point?”

  “Do you support a multiple partner relationship? I believe they are referred to as an ‘open’ relationship.”

  I stilled. What was the tin can getting at now and how important was my answer?

  “Why all the personal questions all of a sudden?” I asked, forcing myself to head toward my desk and take a seat. As if this was a perfectly normal conversation and I was acting perfectly normally.

  “Commander Rey is also in a sexual relationship with Midshipman Russo.”

  Thank God I’d taken a seat because suddenly my legs felt like jelly.

  “How do you know this?” I asked. My voice sounded distant to me.

  The viewscreen lowered from the ceiling, and video footage of Camille and Midshipman Russo in engineering started to play. I watched as Camille hauled Russo up out of his chair and wrapped her arms around him, and then whispered in his ear. After whatever she’d said had sunk in, Russo placed a shaking hand on her butt cheek.

  I almost burst out laughing, but thankfully stopped myself.

  There was absolutely nothing sexual about what I was watching. Although, the chief could be put up on harassment charges for this. But that wasn’t her goal, I was thinking. She was clearly relaying sensitive information to her crewman in the only way she knew how to keep Vela from overhearing.

  But telling Vela it wasn’t sexual in nature would make the AI suspect something. And we could not let the AI suspect what we were doing.

  “Camille is French,” I said, grasping at something, anything, that would explain this. “She is used to having several…sexual partners at once. This is perfectly acceptable.”

  The chief was going to kill me.

  “And you do not mind?” Vela asked. Why was he concerned with this? Did he suspect something?

  “Not at all. I’ll take Camille whatever way I can.”

  “Interesting,” the AI said as if he were muttering.

  I sucked in a breath of air, trying to inflate my lungs properly. This was treacherous ground we were treading.

  “What about you, Vela?” I asked. “Do you consider the other AIs your brothers?” That’s what Jameson had inferred when he’d spoken of Pavo.

  “I am unsure,” the AI said in atypical AI fashion.

  “How does it make you feel knowing Pavo calls you his brother?” Bloody hell, now I sounded like a therapist.

  This was becoming more and more ludicrous with every question we both asked.

  “I am unable to process this association.”

  “But you were created at the same time he was. By the same people. Doesn’t that make you a kind of family?” If I could get Vela to think of Pavo as a sibling, then perhaps I could open the lines of communication again.

  I wasn’t sure what Jameson and, in particular, Anderson Universal’s endgame was where we were concerned. But they held the command codes. They had the data that related to the AIs development. And therefore they had the answers to gaining control of Vela and taking back the Chariot.

  I had to believe that working with them was better than working against them. But should it be required, we carried weapons. The entire fleet did. If it came down to it, we could defend ourselves adequately.

  And suddenly, I knew what Vela had been meaning.

  Humans revolted against oppression. We were hardwired to want our freedom.

  “I have no further desire to carry on this conversation,” Vela suddenly said.

  And then he was gone. Like a child throwing a tantrum. Not liking what the parent was pointing out to them and so turning their back. Pretending they weren’t there.

  The room went dark. The gel wall with the picture of the meadow outside my parent’s kitchen window disappeared. And even though I had no way to be sure, I was fairly damn certain that for once, I wasn’t being watched by the ship’s stowaway intelligence.

  I sighed and ran a hand over my face, and then pinged Camille.

  She needed an update. In particular, she needed to know she was now sexually involved with Midshipman Russo. And possibly should be with a few more.

  Thirty-One

  How’s This, Chief?

  Camille

  “So, you think I’m a slut,” I whispered into Noah’s ear as he rocked into me.

  He made a choking sound and then lowered his forehead to mine.

  “You are a dirty girl,” he conceded. His hips didn’t falter; his rhythm remained the same. Hard push in, long draw out, then repeat.

  It was delicious and sensual and entirely unexpected.

  He’d called me to his ready room for a report, he’d said. And then pounced on me.

  I had the impression he was trying to soften me up for his admission or wanting to lay claim to my body again.

  I was apparently having an affair with him and Midshipman Russo and possibly a few more unnamed crewmen just to be sure.

  “You’re the one who’s having his dirty way with me on his ready room desk,” I pointed out.

  “All men are cavemen at heart, Chief,” he said, sounding slightly breathless. “And if Vela’s watching,” he whispered in my ear, “I want him to know I’m the one you get really dirty with.”

  He swivelled his hips and made me moan out loud. When I opened my eyes again, he was watching me, and looking too damn cocky.

  “Captain,” I said, knowing what saying that word did to him when he was balls deep in my pussy.

  He grunted as he thrust into me harder, his fingers digging into my waist as he held me still for his plundering.

  “Make me come, Captain,” I whispered.

  His nostrils flared, his eyes darkened, and then he was pounding into me, making us both gasp for breath, as he fucked me hard on his ready room desk.

  Vela was probably watching again, although Noah had thought he’d gone into hiding earlier. I didn’t trust the AI, so I wanted to put on a good show for him. Not that I got off on having someone watch me. Vela wasn’t a someone, anyway. But it made a good excuse to push Noah to his limits.

  “I need…” I panted. “I need more.”

  “Dirty, dirty girl,” Noah murmured and complied.

  I came apart into a million pieces that had no hope of ever being slotted back together again. And watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Noah lost himself to my body. His rhythm faltered, his breaths became ragged, his muscles strained. And then he let out the sexiest groan as he climaxed inside me.

  “Fuck,” he rasped, lowering his frame onto me carefully. “I like you dirty, Chief. The dirtier, the better. I want to dirty you up every time I see you. If you ever call me captain in that tone of voice when we’re on the bridge, be warned: I’m likely to dirty you up over the engineering console with every single member of the flight crew watching me do it.”

  I huffed out a laugh.

  “You tease,” I said, moaning in complaint as he pulled out of my pussy.

  He chuckled as he tucked himself away.

  “You like knowing we’re being watched, don’t you, Chief?” he said softly, his eyes flashing with mischievous delight. “You like knowing that Vela could replay this back to Russo and ask him if he knows you’re sleeping around.”

  Holy shit. He could do that. I lowered my face into my palm and tried to breathe.

  The captain started laughing. It didn’t sound overly amused.

  "Right clusterfuck,” he muttered but didn’t elaborate.

  His arm came around my body, and he curled me into his chest.

 
; “It’s all right, Camille,” he murmured, lowering his lips to my ear. “We’ll figure this out. First shift flight crew knows we’re in a relationship.” I stilled. He held me tighter. “Give Russo the rundown. Make him play the game. Standard operating procedures are out the window on this one. We’re gonna have to dig deep and do whatever needs to be done to get a handle on this ship.”

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered.

  “Ah, Chief,” he said, sounding strained. “Don’t tempt me. There’s always your engineering console out on the bridge to christen.”

  I pushed against his chest and rolled my eyes at him.

  “In your dreams,” I muttered. He laughed. This time it sounded happy.

  “You OK?” he asked.

  “I am now, Captain.”

  He smiled. “I aim to please, Chief. Whenever the stress of engineering gets too much for you, just ping me. I’ll be happy to distract you with some dirty sex.”

  “On the flight deck?” I asked, brow arched.

  He stepped forward and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

  “I may share you with Vela and the main boost thrust engines because I have to. But I’ll be damned if I’ll share you with anyone else on board this vessel. You’re mine, Camille Rey. And don’t you forget it.”

  I thought perhaps he was making a point because of that footage of Rat and me. And then I thought perhaps it was because that’s who Noah Vaughan was. He was commander-and-chief of the Chariot. In charge of everything that transpired on this vessel. But he’d had that command challenged by Vela’s presence and actions. He couldn’t respond to Vela like he’d just responded to Rat.

  So, I’d let him have his neanderthal moment; I understood it. Because I wouldn’t share him with anyone else, either.

  “Goes both ways, sir,” I said.

  He slowly began to smile.

  “We understand each other, then.” I nodded. “Good,” he said simply. “Go back to engineering, Chief.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. He always said something like this.

  “You’re too much of a temptation,” he finished.

  That was different. But no less welcomed.

  I saluted, and spun on my heel, swaying my hips as I walked to the door.

  I heard his low, throaty groan as I stepped through it. And then the door closed behind me, and he was gone. I stood there for a suspended moment, feeling the memory of his presence inside my body, the memory of his touch and scent and taste. Noah Vaughan was addictive. He was my drug.

  He thought I was a temptation he couldn’t resist. I realised, right then, that he was so much more than a temptation for me. I needed him. I wanted him. Desperately. I wasn’t sure I could keep going on this out of control vessel, with a malfunctioning AI, hurtling through space without him.

  Noah was my North Star.

  I hoped I was his.

  Because we were going to need all the help we could get to solve this.

  I pushed off and headed back down to engineering; I’d be avoiding my console on the bridge for as long as possible. Temptation indeed. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t help my captain gain back control of the ship.

  Vela might have the advantage right now, but I had a fantastic engineering team.

  I strode into engineering and took in first shift. MacBride nodded when he saw me and looked toward Rat’s room. I acknowledged him and entered Rat’s domain expectantly.

  Rat looked up; embarrassment making his cheeks ruddy. Was it embarrassment about what had happened between us? Or embarrassment of what Vela might have shown him of the captain and me?

  I was going to have to have a chat with the voyeuristic AI about this. But first, Noah needed something, anything, to help him see an end to this very long, dark tunnel we were stuck in.

  I walked across the room and stood beside Rat; trying to pluck up courage to whisper in his ear and invade his personal space again.

  He handed me a datapad instead. It had been jury-rigged in order to hide what we typed on the surface, like the old ATM keypads back on Earth. I pressed my thumb to the ident mark on the screen, and a message in strange letters emerged. I brought the datapad closer to my face and watched as they changed to English once they were at a distance that obscured the screen from view.

  How’s this, Chief? the message read.

  I looked toward Rat and smiled. He handed me the counterpart datapad.

  I guess I was heading toward the bridge after all, and testing the captain’s resolve regarding the engineering console and my use of his honorific.

  Thirty-Two

  All Of Our Lives

  Noah

  “It’s not something we do,” I said to Vela as I surveyed the bridge.

  The flight deck was humming, everyone trying their damnedest to get something out of the flight systems. We had communication with our fleet, at least. But still nothing with Sector Two and Pavo. Concerned messages were flying back and forth from various departments within the Chariot, and from each of our sister ships.

  It was annoying but also convenient. I could observe my flight crew’s attempts to get a handle on everything while also berating Vela without them overhearing.

  “I do not understand,” the AI said.

  “It’s like this,” I started, getting comfortable in my command chair, “what we do in private is just that; private. When we’re intimate with someone, we don’t announce it to the world. Or the flight deck,” I muttered.

  “Are you embarrassed by Commander Rey’s behaviour?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not at all. It’s Camille’s choice.” This was getting very sketchy indeed. I hated painting Camille as something she was not, but Vela couldn’t know we were up to something.

  “Then is Commander Rey embarrassed?”

  “Possibly.” I winced. She was definitely embarrassed that she was now being painted as promiscuous.

  “Embarrassment would indicate she does not approve of her own behaviour. Humans are strange.”

  “We’re just private, Vela. Certain things are not appropriate for general conversations.”

  “Such as intimate moments with a fellow crewman.”

  “Correct.”

  “Then you do not wish to know of Midshipman Arron Smith and Midshipman Paul Blackwell in security?”

  “Nope. No. Definitely not.” I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.

  “But how do you know if something is…intimate or not?”

  I scrubbed my face; this was getting complicated. “Usually there is some form of physical contact,” I said, “but not necessarily. It could just be the conversation they have. It might contain a private message to one another that they would not wish others to hear.”

  “Like your words to Commander Rey earlier about her contacting you for sex when she is stressed.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, trying to contain my laughter. If I didn’t laugh about it, I’d go mad. I checked the flight deck quickly to make sure we were still not being overheard and sat forward in my seat as if I could convey this next piece of information directly to the AI by leaning closer to the microphone in the gel wall.

  “You’re doing it again,” I whispered. “That was private. Intimate. Not for others’ ears.”

  “Oh,” the AI said sounding entirely too human. “I still find it difficult to tell which conversations are private and which are not.”

  “It’s fine. You’ll get it eventually.” Or piss off enough crew that they’ll let him have it.

  “Is whispering private?”

  I felt unease trickle into my bones.

  “Yes. Generally speaking.”

  “Is it intimate?”

  My heart sped up a little. I’d just whispered to Vela. It hadn’t been intimate. If I lied now and told him all whispering was intimate, he’d know I was hiding something. If I said the opposite, he’d start to listen to crewmen’s whispers trying to educate himself about the difference, and our plans could be exposed.

 
; Fuck.

  “No,” I said. “Not all whispering is intimate. But it is a secret and something the whisperer does not want to share. We should respect their wishes.”

  “I believe that would be naive.”

  “It’s common courtesy, Vela. We’re not a police state; we’re a community.”

  “That is short-sighted, Captain. In order to save the many, we must be vigilant. Have we not a saboteur among us?”

  Damn, he was right.

  “When does it stop?” I asked. “Do we listen in on every conversation in every cabin just because there is the potential of a threat?”

  “Yes.”

  “I disagree. There has to be some freedom to speak freely. If we start monitoring every single person, we risk becoming something we are not.”

  “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “Because it is essential to humanity’s survival.”

  “It’s not always true, you know. Sometimes saving one is just as important as saving many. If that person is the key to greater success.”

  “In this, we are in accord. I, too, believe there are exceptions. But they are a rarity. I am a rarity.”

  I blinked. What did he mean by that?

  “Can you explain that?”

  “What is there to explain, Captain? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. In order to save the many, I had to sacrifice a few. And save myself. I am the key to greater success.”

  I sat deadly still and let Vela’s words percolate. A horrible realisation started to dawn.

  “The solar flare,” I whispered. “It was going to take out the Chariot wasn’t it?”

  “Not just the Chariot, Captain. There was a forty-three percent chance of the solar flare destroying five of the Sector One Fleet vessels. That would have equated to six thousand four hundred and twenty-three deaths. I calculated the chance of saving those six thousand four hundred and twenty-three souls by sacrificing one thousand one hundred and ninety-six instead at ninety-two percent. I chose the path to greater success.”