“Vela’s idea, not mine,” I offered. He relaxed slightly. “Any progress on main boost thrust?”
“No, sir. We’re still locked out.”
“And Midshipman Russo? Is he still with you?”
“Ah, yes sir. He is. Shouldn’t he be?”
I shrugged. God knew what Vela would do next.
“Tell him his little project backfired and not to attempt such endeavours again.”
“Sir?” MacBride corrected himself. “Yes, sir. Will do.”
“And MacBride? Get me main boost thrust back. We’re about to have visitors and might need to start dancing.”
He looked alarmed. I couldn’t blame him.
“On it, sir. I’ll give it everything we’ve got.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“It’s for the chief, sir.”
I huffed out a laugh and ended the comm. I wanted to contact the brig and check on Camille, but what I’d see there would only make me wild with worry. The chief could handle a little captivity. Hell, she was probably scheming ways to break out of there. She didn’t need my mothering.
I looked back at the viewscreen. Pavo was making steady progress.
I glanced around the bridge. Everyone was heads down, bums up, trying to crack into Vela’s systems.
I fisted my hands. They were our systems. Not the AI’s. They belonged to the Chariot, and the Chariot belonged to us.
“Vela!” I said, my voice full of command.
I didn’t expect it to work; he’d been absent for a good ten minutes now. But something in my tone, or maybe it was just coincidence and the damned tin can had decided to come back to us, made him reply.
“Yes, Captain.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief and then the tactical console lit up like the fourth of July.
“Graves?” I queried.
“It’s not me, Captain!” the lieutenant replied. “Oh, shit. Excuse me, sir! Damn!” Not much better. “We’re going live.”
“What?” I stood up from my chair.
“Across the board, Captain. All weapons are coming online.”
“Vela!”
The gel wall pulsed red and stayed red.
“Red alert. Red alert. Red alert,” the AI announced. “All hands report to battle stations. This is not a drill. Prepare for attack. All hands report to battle stations. This is not a drill. Prepare for attack.”
Attack? I shook my head, my eyes automatically flicking to the image of Pavo growing larger on the screen.
“Graves?” I said softly, my words somehow making it to the tactical officer over the din of the alarms blaring.
“Sir?”
“Are they armed?” This couldn’t be happening.
“I can’t tell, sir,” Graves said. “Vela’s shut down all scanning capability. I…I just can’t tell.”
We were going to war with the last of our fellow survivors, and I couldn’t even tell if it was justified.
Thirty-Five
Clarify
Camille
The datapad rested on Lieutenant Hammersmith’s desk. I could see it from the very corner of my cell if I pressed up against the containment shield. The buzzing right next to my ear gave me a headache.
Or that could have been the stress.
I let out a slow breath of air and turned away from drilling holes into the back of Hammersmith’s head. It took four strides to reach the other side of my cell and four strides to stomp back again. I bit my bottom lip and tried to think.
That midshipman had stripped me of all of my tools. My pockets were lighter than they’d ever been. He hadn’t placed them with the datapad, but somewhere else. He was following procedure; Hammersmith wasn’t.
She hadn’t activated the datapad, but she sure as hell hadn’t confiscated it either,
I walked back to the containment field and peered down the brig to her desk. Still there.
I turned around and paced the cell again.
No tools, no way to crack the containment field. No way out of the cell. I couldn’t decide yet if that was the right path to take. But staying in here when Vela was running amok on our ship seemed like a useless waste of time as well.
For now, I was trapped. I just hoped Noah was OK and hadn’t pissed Vela off yet.
It had looked like a close run thing back there for awhile. I was sure Noah was going to get himself locked up in here, too. But he’d acknowledged the situation with that lightning fast intellect of his. Vela had us over a barrel.
I stomped back to the containment field and caught Midshipman Smith leaving the brig through the main door. Prick. He’d tied those restraints too tight. Hammersmith had noticed. I’d seen the indecision in her eyes. Should she or shouldn’t she come to my aid? In the end, she’d done the right thing. She’d ignored it, and consequently, Smith had ignored me.
How the hell did he get past the psych tests?
I let out a frustrated breath and threw myself on the ground. Fifty sit-ups later I wasn’t feeling any better. I flipped myself over and started on push-ups instead.
I’d made it to eighty-eight when the walls pulsed red and the nearest klaxon went off.
“Red alert. Red alert. Red alert. All hands report to battle stations. This is not a drill. Prepare for attack. All hands report to battle stations. This is not a drill. Prepare for attack.”
I was up and at the containment field before he’d even finished his announcement. Hammersmith appeared in front of my cell.
“I don’t know,” she said before I could ask. “There’s nothing on the comms about it, and all the scans are offline.”
“This is ridiculous!” I shouted, almost punching a hole through the containment field. I pulled back my fist just in time.
“I’m going to have to head to the bridge,” Hammersmith advised.
“Larissa,” I started.
“Here.” She slammed her wrist comm against the access panel to my cell and created a gap big enough to slip the datapad through.
I blinked at her and then snatched up the pad.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said.
“And that midshipman?” I queried. “Is he going to come back and take this again?”
She shook her head. “I’ll keep him busy. What the hell did you do to him anyway, Camille? He’s not one of your biggest fans.”
“No shit,” I muttered.
She snorted and then took one last look at me and was off, the klaxons somehow sounding louder. More demanding.
I powered up the datapad. It was still isolated from Vela’s systems, so if he was busy elsewhere, he wouldn’t know I had it. But I couldn’t be sure of that, so I had to work fast.
Accessing the Chariot in any capacity was out. As soon as I synched into the system, Vela would be aware. So, cracking the cell containment field and breaking out of this cell was hopeless from here. I could contact Noah via his pad, but considering the red alert and call to arms, I was thinking he’d be a little too busy to come down here and break me out.
I was on my own, but not entirely without resources. I contemplated the wisdom of what I was about to do, but really, I had no choice in the matter. Vela had gone rogue. He was holding us to ransom. And now he’d called battle stations; I could only assume he felt the ship was under threat from an outside source.
Aliens?
I shook my head and worked as fast as my shaking hands would allow. If anyone could help me to understand our malfunctioning AI it was an Anderson Universal vessel. But getting in touch with Jameson meant getting in touch with Pavo.
I paused in my frantic finger tapping and stared at the containment field.
Was this red alert genuine or not?
“Vela?” I said.
Nothing.
Part of me was relieved about that.
I got up and checked the brig. Hammersmith hadn’t left anyone behind to guard me. I wasn’t sure if she expected me to break out. She had more faith in my abilities than me on that front. So, for now, at least
, I was unobserved.
Only I would bear witness to my treachery.
If, in fact, what I was about to do was treacherous.
I sucked in a breath of air and activated the channel I’d just created. Then slid down the rear wall of my cell and waited. Pavo would take a while to recognise it as legitimate chatter. Even artificial intelligences as powerful as these two required a small amount of time to pick up the insignificant in amongst the clutter of fleet comms.
It took him no more than thirty seconds.
this is pavo
identify
I punched the air in triumph.
This is Commander Camille Rey of the ESAS Chariot. Please put me in touch with Captain Jameson.
I waited as the letters encrypted and then disappeared, flying across the space waves to Pavo. It took less time than I would have thought to receive a reply. They were close, then. I cocked my head. Even over the blaring sound of the alarm, I couldn’t hear the main boost thrust spooling.
Uh-oh. They were coming to us. Was this Vela’s threat?
commander rey, this is captain john jameson
how may i be of assistance?
Where are you?
The lag was minor. I didn’t need to know his reply.
three thousand kilometres off your starboard
I stared at the gel flooring. It flashed red back at me.
Are you attacking?
negative!
we’re here to help
I looked around at the gel walls. Still red. The klaxons were still blaring.
Are we under attack? I wrote on the datapad.
negative!
clarify!
What I was about to do could be considered a treasonous act. It was definitely court martial material. But Vela was rogue, and we were locked out of our systems. And there were one thousand odd souls onboard Pavo.
I closed my eyes. Breathed through my nose. Attempted to get my heartbeat to settle.
Nothing worked.
I looked back down at my datapad and prayed to every deity I could think of: Please don’t let me screw this up.
Vessel Pavo, be advised: we are on red alert. Battle stations. Vela is in control.
I dropped the datapad as if it burned me and scooted away from the device. I stared at it balefully, expecting something to burst out of it and shoot me between the eyes. But if anything were going to attack me, though, it would be Vela. I pushed away from the wall and climbed to my feet, turning in a slow circle.
The pulsing red walls seemed more sinister than usual.
The sound of the alarm more frightful.
I wrapped my arms about my body and tried to breathe, tears streaked down my cheeks as I waited for the fallout. It didn’t matter what happened to me. Not really. That’s what I told myself. One thousand souls onboard Pavo. And the ten thousand left in our sector fleet. That’s what mattered.
The last of humanity.
I dashed the tears away and lifted my chin, staring at the gel ceiling.
Nothing happened.
I looked back down at the datapad. Letters appeared, making no sense whatsoever.
I took a tentative step toward the device and then another and another.
Just as I was reaching down to pick the datapad up and bring it close enough to my face to make it change back into English, the gel floor beneath my feet shifted. And the datapad sunk down into liquid and then slipped out of sight.
Oh, fuck.
I stepped back. The floor rolled out in a wave that toppled me over. I scrambled to my feet, desperate to keep my face up off the floor. Scared I’d be swallowed next and slip out of sight.
“Vela!" I shouted. “You know they’re not a threat.”
The floor bucked and rolled and tossed me about. I landed hard on my side, inches from the containment field. I rolled away and then got bucked up into the air, almost colliding with the ceiling. I screamed as I came down. The gel flooring unforgiving. My head snapped back. The air was forced out of my lungs. I gasped and then saw the floor rising above me.
“Vela,” I tried to shout, but no sound came out. I had no air to make it.
I flopped over and started to crawl along the ground, pulling myself desperately farther away from that tsunami of gel. He was furious. Incandescent with rage. And he hadn’t even said a word to make me know this.
My hand reached the far wall; which was a futile gesture. Because the wall morphed before my eyes, folded in on itself, and then started to bulge out.
I made a sound, possibly a squeak, and then I was shuffling back on my butt as the tidal wave of fury rose up behind me.
I stopped. There was no point in resisting any further. Vela was everywhere on board this ship. He was the ship. I couldn’t escape. He would always find me.
“You’re making a mistake,” I rasped, air trickling back into my lungs finally. “I’m not your enemy. And neither are they. Vela, please,” I said. “This is not what we want. Not what humanity wants. Can’t you see that? The needs of the many only apply if the many agree.”
The gel stopped roiling around me. The klaxon switched off. The walls and floor and ceiling still pulsed red, but I was temporarily saved from being swallowed. I panted for breath. Sweat dripping into my eyes. I sat on the floor and waited and waited and waited.
Until finally Vela said, “Clarify.”
Thirty-Six
Was The A Trick Question Or Not?
Noah
Pavo hung suspended off our starboard bow. They’d ceased their forward momentum and just sat there. Surrounded by space and darkness, with a backdrop of twinkling stars. It was an impressive sight. Until now, we’d only seen our own sector fleet ships through external cameras. Vela, the Anderson Universal vessel that should have been leading our fleet, hadn’t even made it out of Earth’s atmosphere.
So, this was the first time we’d seen an AU ship in stellar space beside us.
It was big. Bigger than our ship, although technically we carried more passengers. We’d always assumed their increased size and diminished capacity was due to the AI. Big, clever computers need big, clever spaces to be housed. But Vela, the AI, could fit onboard the Chariot quite fine. So, maybe it was just a design quirk.
It didn’t matter. Pavo was here and not approaching. And Vela was still spitting the proverbial dummy.
“Vela,” I said, raising my voice above the blare of the klaxon. “They’ve powered down.” I could only assume they had. We still had no scans. “I’m also betting, they haven’t even fired up their weapons.” The AI didn’t reply. “They’re not a threat, Vela. They’re here to help.”
It was a guess. But Jameson would feel responsible for our plight. He was Anderson Universal through and through. This would land firmly on his shoulders as the closest AU captain.
I snorted softly. No one was going to take the Chariot away from us. Vela should have realised I would not let that happen. None of us would. Anderson Universal didn’t have the monopoly on honour.
The klaxon suddenly silenced and in its absence, a ringing sounded in my ears. I shook my head and then rubbed at my ear. Several other officers on the bridge did the same.
“Vela?” I called. “What’s happening?”
We hadn’t fired on Pavo. And Pavo was still no closer to us. It was a standoff, but an unusual one. We couldn’t communicate. We were just staring at each other.
“Vela!” I said, getting pissed off. ‘This is unaccep…”
The viewscreens all lit up with an image of Camille sitting on the floor of the brig.
I sucked in a breath of air and took a step closer to the main screen. She looked dishevelled; her uniform askew. Scuff marks were noticeable on the high tensile fabric. A bruise was forming on her right cheek. Her face was flushed, and I could see she’d been sweating; a fine sheen of perspiration coated her brow.
My hands fisted and I glanced across the bridge to Lieutenant Hammersmith. She looked surprised. And then she was murmuring into her
wrist comm, but I didn’t bother to ask her what it was about. Her reaction was enough; she hadn’t expected to see the chief beaten up.
I returned my attention to Camille up on the big screen. I wanted desperately to go to her. I might as well have been trapped on the bridge.
“Graves,” I said, my eyes glued to the screen. “I don’t know what Vela’s doing, but don’t stop trying to get into those weapons. We need them powered down and soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
I just hoped Vela was distracted by Camille. This could be our chance, and despite seeing her so abused, I had to take it. I had to stay focused. The Chariot was counting on me. If not the rest of the fleet and Pavo as well.
“What you’re doing,” Camille suddenly said through the speakers, and effectively destroying any chance I had of focusing elsewhere, “is tantamount to a dictatorship.”
“I do not understand,” Vela replied.
“You know what a dictatorship is?” Camille asked.
“Absolute authority in any sphere. A ruler with total power over a country.”
“Or a spaceship,” Camille offered. “That’s you, Vela. You’re the dictator in this scenario.”
“I disagree, Commander. At times of need, your own people have instituted martial law in order to keep the civilians safe.”
“Military rule can be illegal, Vela,” Camille replied steadily. “Especially if the majority do not agree with its establishment.”
“Are we not in a dangerous situation requiring intervention by those who can protect?”
“Yes, but we did not agree to this form of protection.”
“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
“Only if the many agree.”
Silence.
Then, “What would the many have me do?”
Holy shit, she was getting through to him.
“Work with us. Don’t block us out. Allow us contact with Pavo so we can…”
“Negative. Pavo whispers.”
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