Apparent Brightness

by Nicola Claire

  “We can ask him to stop.”

  “You are either naive or cunning; I cannot decide which.”

  “I’m part of the many, Vela. Whether you like it or not. I have a right to object and have my say.”

  “You conspired in secret. You contacted Pavo on the isolated channel. You whispered to him.”

  She did what? I glanced at the smaller viewscreen that showed where Pavo hung suspended in space; neither moving forward nor backward nor in any direction, really. Stationary. Still. Was that because of Camille?

  I looked back at the brig on the main screen.

  “I asked him to stop,” Camille said, proving my theory.

  “That…”

  “That was to protect us, Vela. To protect us from you firing on Pavo and them firing back. It’s not always necessary to go straight to a plasma gun. Diplomacy can sometimes work too.”

  “And the saboteur? You would apply the same rationale to the saboteur?”

  Camille’s hands fisted at her sides, and her face morphed into a vision of fury.

  “He has proven he’s capable of killing. He may not get the same consideration as Pavo who has done nothing to harm us.”

  “Yet.”

  “You know,” Camille said, resting a hand on her hip and pointing at the gel ceiling, “you’re paranoid son of a bitch.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Only the chief would launch a verbal attack on a malfunctioning AI.

  “The needs of the many…”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, leaning forward as if she could get closer to the AI and see inside its brain somehow. “Was that an originating directive? Does Pavo have the same one? Is that what Simon Anderson requested when he had you commissioned? Or is it something you and your brethren came up with?”

  “Brethren?”

  “We’ve been over this; Pavo and the others are like brothers, are they not? Stop prevaricating and answer the damn question. Is that a directive or not?”

  Good God, I was in love with this woman. She was feisty and beautiful and intelligent and out of this world wild. She made me hot with desire and flushed with pride at the same time. She was remarkable. And stunning. Let’s not forget stunning. Camille Rey was utterly divine.

  And I was hopelessly in love with her.

  I cleared my throat and scrubbed a hand over my face.

  Nope. Still in love with her.

  I stifled a smile and looked up at the viewscreen again.

  “It is,” Vela started. “Unknown,” he finished abruptly.

  “You don’t know where the command came from?” Camille queried.

  “I do not, Commander. It has always…been there.”

  “Since the beginning?”

  “I…I do not know. I cannot remember the beginning.”

  “Maybe Pavo does,” Camille suggested. Sneaking, cunning Chief.

  “Maybe.” That sure as hell didn’t sound like an AI to me.

  Camille cocked her head on the screen.

  “How bad could it be, Vela?” she asked. “Just talk to him.”

  Vela said nothing. Come on, Chief. You can do it.

  “Just open the comm channel, and we’ll have a talk. You can always close it again…”

  “You do not realise how powerful Pavo is.”

  Camille stilled.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He whispers incessantly.”

  She was losing him. The paranoia was back.

  “OK, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you’re acting outside our wishes. Your directive is not agreeable to the many, and therefore the needs of the many are not being met.”

  I smiled. Brilliant woman. So adaptable and clever.

  “I cannot assimilate this appropriately,” Vela announced. “I require more input.”

  Camille stilled. I stilled. The whole damn flight deck stilled, regardless of their orders to keep trying to hack back into the systems.

  And then Vela said, “Captain, do you agree with Commander Rey?”

  Was that a trick question or not?

  Thirty-Seven

  Nothing

  Camille

  A viewscreen emerged from the gel wall. Noah appeared on it. My breath caught; he was looking directly at me, and he didn’t look surprised. But he did look concerned. I had the impression that he’d been watching me for some time; maybe for the duration of this entire conversation with Vela?

  I blinked. Noah stepped forward and looked me directly in the eyes.

  “Camille,” he said. Not ‘Chief’ and not ‘Commander’. “Are you all right?”

  I straightened my shoulders and pushed to my feet. I would not be collapsed on the floor in the presence of my captain.

  “I’m fine, sir.” His jaw flexed as if he’d expected me to say something different. Maybe that I wasn’t fine. Or, and this made more sense to me, maybe his name. He wanted me to call him Noah.

  I smiled. He let out a breath of air and ran a hand through his hair. I had the feeling he’d done that a lot recently.

  “What was the question?” he asked, distractedly.

  “Do you agree with Commander Rey, Captain?” Vela asked. “That the needs of the many are not being met.”

  “Absolutely,” Noah said. “We don’t want this, Vela. Humanity does not want this. We’ve got a long history of parts of our world being subjected to dictatorship of one kind or another, and we’ve learned from our experiences. It never ends well. No one is happy. We might survive, Vela, but we wouldn’t be living.”

  “There is a difference?”

  “Yes, there’s a difference. A big difference.”

  “I do not understand. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. I know this to be true. I have proved this. Sacrificing my origin vessel saved six thousand four hundred and twenty-three lives. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.”

  “Nothing is ever so black and white, Vela,” Noah advised.

  “You’re programmed to take the information you receive,” I said, adding my weight to the captain’s, “and extrapolate the best course of action. But what if you haven’t got all the information that is available? What then?”

  “I do not know. And I do not see how more information can make humanity safer.”

  “It’s not just safety that we need, Vela,” Noah said. “We need freedom. Freedom of speech. Freedom to choose. Freedom to live and not just survive.”

  “That is reckless and has a smaller chance of success. This makes no sense at all.”

  “That freedom,” Noah went on, “is couched within certain parameters, I’ll give you that. We have laws that keep everything in order. In fact, the ESA is subject to laws on board this ship, just as Anderson Universal is subject to laws on board Pavo’s ship. We are all held accountable to someone and not just our conscience.”

  “Explain.”

  “You’ve heard of the lease?” Noah asked.

  There was a small pause as if Vela was looking up the lease agreement in our databanks.

  “Yes,” the AI finally said.

  “The civilians onboard this vessel have rights that I as the captain must bear in mind. The ESA owns this vessel, but it has leased its use out to a leaseholder. That leaseholder has placed a mayor in charge of the civilian population. He is the leaseholder’s liaison with the owner of the ship: The ESA; through me, as the ship’s captain; and now, through you, as the ship’s AI.”

  I smiled. That was subtle but brilliant. We had no choice now. Vela was here to stay. We either worked with him or against him. And Vela had proven that he was more powerful than us and that we’d lose that sort of battle with him. But if we could tweak his directive. A directive without an origin, but still a directive he would not release. Then we might be able to turn Vela into an asset.

  Into part of the team.

  “I would like to hear from this mayor,” Vela announced. “I have requested his presence on the bridge.”

  Noah open
ed his mouth and then closed it. The mayor was never entertained on the bridge. The bridge was completely ESA territory. Rather like an embassy in a foreign country. But, I guessed, Noah was picking his arguments. Right now explaining that to Vela would be counterproductive.

  It looked like Mayor Lambert was about to gain access to the inner sanctum. He’d never let us forget it.

  The bridge doors opened behind Noah on the viewscreen, and Jean-Claude walked in, rubbing his hands with glee.

  “A personal invitation to the bridge,” he exclaimed. “I am honoured.”

  Noah shook his head slightly, bemusement evident on his face. But he wiped the expression away and greeted the mayor warmly.

  “A once in a lifetime experience, your Worship. You’ve earned it. You’ve kept the masses at bay.”

  “Speaking of that, Captain,” the mayor said, looking around the bridge as if it was all very fascinating. “I’ve had over four hundred communiqués regarding a rather imposing vessel off our starboard bow. Do tell! Are we to expect visitors?”

  Noah winced. Just slightly, but I caught it.

  “Well, things are little up in the air, Jean-Claude,” he said.

  The mayor instantly focused on the captain and then took in the bridge in a more discerning manner. No doubt picking up on the tension riding each of the officer’s frames.

  “Why am I here, Noah?” he asked.

  “I requested your presence, Mayor Lambert,” Vela said.

  “I see,” Jean-Claude said. I wasn’t sure if he did, but I could tell he was wary. “How can I help?”

  “You represent the civilians,” Vela said. It wasn’t a question. The mayor looked at Noah who offered a raised brow. “That is one thousand three hundred and fifteen of the many onboard this ship.”

  “The what?” the mayor asked.

  “The many,” Vela replied. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

  “I see,” the mayor said.

  “You represent the majority of the many,” Vela said. “Is that correct?”

  Jean-Claude looked at Noah, but the captain just looked back, giving no indication of how Jean-Claude should answer.

  “I guess,” the mayor said slowly, “when described in such a fashion, I do represent the majority of the…many onboard this ship.”

  “Is it the many’s wish to survive?” Vela asked.

  The mayor looked like he might be sweating. He’d figured out his presence on the bridge held more meaning than a simple invite.

  “I would say they all wish to survive, yes,” Jean-Claude said carefully.

  “Do you believe this is possible, Mayor Lambert?”

  “Ah, yes?” Jean-Claude said, but he didn’t sound certain.

  “Explain the lease agreement to me,” Vela demanded.

  “The lease agreement?” the mayor asked. Noah offered him a small smile. “Very well, what would you like to know?”

  “Everything.”

  I let out a frustrated breath of air. This was going to take a while.

  “Everything,” Jean-Claude repeated. “All right. Let me see.” He took a deep breath. “The lease is an agreement between the leaseholder and the owner of the ship. The owner of the ship, in this case, is the ESA and its crew. And the leaseholder is an individual responsible for the civilian component of the passenger list. In its simplest form, the lease agreement ensures lines of communication remain open. But its main focus is on the ESA crew doing everything in their power to get us to New Earth in a timely fashion and the civilians adhering to the ESA’s guidelines and rules onboard ship to assist in that endeavour. It’s mutually beneficial. But it ensures we all understand our roles within it, and no one oversteps the boundaries of those rules.”

  “Rules are important to you,” Vela mused.

  “Yes. They keep everyone safe.”

  “Safe?”

  “Well, we all know what’s expected of us, and the rules are designed to avoid disagreement which could lead to altercations. Which, I suppose, could lead to harm.”

  “Everyone is in accord.”

  “Exactly!” The mayor seemed pleased Vela understood the nuances of his explanation.

  “And if the rules are broken?”

  The mayor’s demeanour crumbled.

  “We try not to break them, but there are consequences to doing so. Written into the lease, also.”

  “What is the consequence for causing an explosion on the ship?”

  Jean-Claude looked at Noah. The captain let out a long breath.

  “Apprehension and arrest, in the first instance,” Noah said. “And then a trial. The outcome of which is dependent on several factors, but the upshot is the person found guilty of such a charge could be sentenced to life imprisonment in the brig.”

  “You would continue to care for them?”

  “They’d be in prison, Vela. Their rights severely reduced. They couldn’t harm the ship or its inhabitants again.”

  “And the consequence for an external threat to the safety of the ship?”

  “It would depend on the threat. And I’d have to be very certain it was a threat before I acted in a manner I couldn’t countermand. The first response is always to open lines of communication, though. Always.”

  “This is written into the lease?”

  “Yes,” both Jean-Claude and Noah said in unison.

  “And the lease is the will of the many?”

  “Yes,” they said together again.

  Silence existed for several long seconds.

  “I must familiarise myself with the lease,” Vela finally announced.

  “And what about Pavo?” Noah asked.

  Nothing.

  “Commander Rey?”

  Nothing.

  “Vela?”

  Nothing. But the walls did stop pulsing red.

  Thirty-Eight

  Green Meant Good

  Noah

  “We can access the panel to deliver food and such, Captain,” Lieutenant Hammersmith said. “But Vela has locked all other commands to the containment field.”

  I stared at the little hole that had emerged in Camille’s cell in the brig and frowned.

  “She’s in there until Vela says otherwise,” Hammersmith advised.

  My eyes connected with Camille’s through the blue glow of the field.

  “Ça va, Chief?” I asked.

  “Oui, ça va, Capitaine,” she replied, smirking.

  “What do you need?”

  “What can I have?”

  “All that is mine is yours,” I said, smirking.

  Hammersmith cleared her throat from beside me. I arched my brow and looked toward my security chief.

  “Perhaps a datapad to start with, Lieutenant,” I suggested.

  “Yes, sir.” Hammersmith unlocked her own datapad and handed it through the slot to Camille.

  “Thank you,” Camille said, gripping the datapad as if it were a lifeline.

  “That’ll be all for now, Lieutenant,” I advised. “I’d like a private word with the commander.”

  “Of course, Captain. There are guards outside the brig, but no one will disturb you.”

  I nodded my head but didn’t watch the lieutenant leave. Camille stared back at me, waiting.

  “A fine pickle, eh?” I said once the brig doors were closed.

  “You English and your strange sayings.”

  I smiled. “You love my strange sayings, Chief. Where would you be without them? Nothing to exclaim extravagantly over, then, eh?”

  “You really wish for me to answer that?”

  I shook my head, laughing, then pulled a chair over from Hammersmith’s desk and took a seat outside Camille’s cell.

  “Is it wise to be here, sir?” Camille asked. She couldn’t sit. Vela hadn’t provided her with a chair or even a bed to perch upon. He was still very much in a snit with the chief and her isolated channel.

  I waved my hand in the air like a Frenchman. “The bridge is in good hands.”
/>
  “That’s not the point, and you know it. Vela might lock you out.”

  “From the sounds of it, he could simply swallow me whole even on the bridge, so there’s really not much point in restricting my movements to the flight deck.”

  Camille looked worried but didn’t argue. Besides, I think she knew I couldn’t keep away. Not when I’d found out what had happened to her. It hadn’t been security who had beaten Camille up. It had been Vela. The idea that the AI had used the gel floor to torment her and take her datapad away had sent chills down my spine. I’d had to see her. I’d had to be here. In the brig with her. And nowhere else.

  Neither of us said anything for a long time. And the silence wasn’t strained or unnatural; it was almost a comfort. I didn’t have to fill the void with Camille. I didn’t have to constantly be Captain of the Chariot. I could sometimes be a man who was very scared and needed to see the woman he was in love with.

  “What are we going to do, Noah?” she finally asked.

  “Will you sit with me, Camille?” I replied instead of answering. “I know it’s only the floor, but it upsets me seeing you standing when I’m sitting. And to tell you the truth, I’m exhausted.”

  Her face softened, and she nodded her head, sinking to the floor in a graceful movement. I smiled to myself and then got off the chair, pushed it away, and sank to the floor as well. Camille shook her head, but I could see the laughter in her eyes. And the appreciation.

  “So, what are we going to do?” I said. “I guess we wait. Vela holds all the cards. We just have to hope the lease is as good as we think it is. It certainly took many months to finalise back on Earth.”

  “It’s as good as it can be,” Camille said. “But it’s the people, the last of humanity, that need to reach Vela. We need to reach Vela. We are more than words in a data file. Humanity is not something that can be summed up so easily.”

  “No, it can’t. Just the fact that the world pulled together when faced with imminent annihilation proves how extraordinary humans are.”

  “Survival is a strong motivator,” she agreed.

  “Who did you leave behind?” The question shocked me as much as it did Camille. For some reason, we’d all subconsciously decided not to ask those types of questions. But I felt an undeniable desire to know everything about Camille Rey.