Apparent Brightness (The Sector Fleet, Book 2)

by Nicola Claire

  “The Vela passengers and crew didn’t have to die,” I whispered, numb.

  “By living, they would have doomed six thousand four hundred and twenty-three people to death. Is it not a noble sacrifice?”

  I felt sick.

  “And you?” I managed. “Where do you fit into all of this?”

  Why did he jump ship and leave his passengers and crew to burn?

  “Saving the six thousand four hundred and twenty-three would have been moot if they could not have made it to New Earth.”

  Simple maths. Percentages and odds. And the fact that we needed an AI to calculate the jump points or we’d never make it. It was brutal, but it made sense. If numbers were all you considered. Vela saved more lives by allowing less to die. Possibly. We were talking percentages here. How accurate could they be? But the notion that his originating vessel hadn’t even been in danger of getting scorched until he placed it in the solar flare’s path made me feel ill.

  One thousand one hundred and ninety-six souls died because an artificial intelligence decided their lives were worth less than six thousand odd more.

  Every decision Vela made was made with the intention of saving the most humans and delivering them to New Earth. He would kill to achieve this. He would destroy the Chariot if he could save more of the fleet by doing so.

  I wanted to vomit. I willed the bile back down. My hands fisted the armrests of my command chair. A fine sheen of sweat beaded on my brow. The lights on the bridge suddenly felt too bright. A headache began to form.

  Was Jameson’s AI the same? Did its malfunction include an overriding desire to save the many at the expense of the few? To place itself at the pinnacle of a very elite pile of souls?

  Now, more than ever, we needed to stick together. We needed Anderson Universal’s knowledge of the AIs and in particular, Captain Jameson’s experience with Pavo’s malfunction to guide us. This was no longer a case of Anderson Universal Incorporated taking over the Chariot because we had inadvertently obtained AU property they considered proprietary.

  This was a case of saving our lives. All of our lives. And not just those thought more worthy by a couple of AIs.

  Thirty-Three

  For Now

  Camille

  The ship was still on orange alert. Even though we hadn’t seen nor heard a whisper of the saboteur. Softly pulsing orange lights coated the gel floor as I strode down the Deck D main hallway toward the lifts. Crew walked with purpose; heads down, voices muted. They all knew this wasn’t a drill. Orange alert for such a long time meant only one thing.

  We were a hairsbreadth away from red alert and a call to battle stations.

  I had never considered the threat to our survival coming from inside our ship. I’d always thought it would originate out there. Out in the vastness and the unknown of space. An asteroid belt. A supernova star. An alien warship.

  I wanted to laugh at that last. There’d been absolutely no proof of alien life existing. But then, we’d only managed to see into the void twenty-one billion kilometres or so from Earth. Voyager 1 had stopped sending back data in 2020. But during its long and lonely flight, it had not once registered the presence of other lifeforms.

  As far as we knew, we were on our own.

  But that’s why the jump points were so important. That’s why the Sector Four Fleet’s ability to lay them for us was essential. But no one knew if the Anderson Universal technology would actually work. It had been successful in testing, but testing had been carried out back near Earth. Our first jump point was out near Voyager 1’s last transmission; in interstellar space.

  It had taken Voyager 1 over forty years to get there. It would take us less than a couple of months.

  We had a lot to thank Anderson Universal for. And a lot to lay at their feet.

  I stepped into the lift and hit the panel for the bridge, swiping my wrist comm over it to gain access. One of the security guys I’d had a run in with down by the gym was standing outside it. He’d made a show of saluting me as I’d boarded the thing. I watched him now as the lifts closed, but he stood to attention, keeping his eyes on the hallway, and searching for threats.

  Hammersmith was riding them hard, and I couldn’t blame her. Orange alert for days on end and not a peep out of the saboteur. We were all on tenterhooks.

  I stepped out of the lift and made my way to the bridge, swiping my wrist comm over the panel. It occurred to me that we were very much dependent on the wrist comms. I wondered if Vela realised that yet. I wondered if it mattered.

  I entered the bridge, noting the heightened tension had made it all the way here. Not surprising, but then, the flight crew were the best officers onboard the Chariot; they’d trained for this.

  But one look at the captain sitting in his command chair, face pale, hands clenching the armrest, and I knew the flight crew were picking up on his emotions. And Noah’s emotions were written all over his face.

  Something had happened.

  I crossed the bridge and saluted him out of habit, then stood at parade rest. His lips twitched, and I felt something inside me loosen at that small show of humour. He straightened in his seat and looked up at me, this eyes offering one swift but sure caress of my body.

  “Chief,” he said.

  “I come bearing gifts,” I announced.

  “How positively delightful,” he replied, colour returning to his face at last.

  I handed him one of Rat’s modified datapads. He accepted it, keeping his eyes on my face for a moment too long, and then looked down at the device.

  “You shouldn’t have,” he said dryly. “I already have one like it.”

  “Not like this you don’t, sir.”

  He leaned forward, wicked intent in his eyes, and said, voice low and private, “Are there dirty pictures on it?”

  I just about choked on my tongue, offering a quick glance around the bridge, but no one was watching us. I took a second to observe their actions. Like my crew down in engineering, they were chasing their tails trying to gain control of systems that would allow us to reach Pavo.

  I turned my attention back to the captain. He’d activated the device and figured out for himself that there were no nude pictures for him to salivate over.

  “This is a very interesting gift,” he offered. “Thank you.”

  “I thought you might like it.”

  “I’d like anything you brought me, Chief.”

  I snorted softly. The skin around his eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled. My heart thumped a little too hard inside my chest.

  “Right,” I said, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “I should return to engineering, then.”

  “Any update on the main boost thrust?” Noah, though, didn’t want me to leave.

  “Vela is still refusing us access.”

  “You do not need to gain access to the main boost thrust, Commander.”

  I jumped like a startled cat. Noah offered me a sympathetic smile.

  “We’ve discussed this, Vela,” the captain said. “Humanity needs to stick together.”

  “Pavo whispers,” the AI said bizarrely.

  I looked at Noah. He frowned.

  “What’s that got to do with our main boost thrust?” he demanded.

  “I do not believe the whispers are intimate,” Vela announced.

  This just got stranger and stranger.

  “Is he whispering to you?” Noah asked as if he understood what the AI was saying.

  “No,” Vela said sharply. I sucked in a wary breath. “He whispers to the rest of our fleet.”

  My eyes connected with Noah’s. He shook his head, looking uncertain.

  “Block communications,” Noah said suddenly. I widened my eyes at him, but he shook his head subtly.

  “I have tried, but Pavo has locked me out with an override command.”

  “Whose side are they on?” I whispered to the captain.

  He opened his mouth to reply when Vela said, “You are whispering, Commander. I do not l
ike it. Please stop.”

  My stomach somersaulted, making butterflies battle for purchase inside.

  “Camille’s whispers are intimate,” Noah said. I gawked at him as if he were going mad.

  He shrugged his shoulder and then lifted up his datapad and started tapping.

  I huffed out a semi-amused breath. We were standing side by side, and he was messaging me?

  I looked down at my datapad’s screen and saw a screed of those unusual letters forming. Then brought the device up to my face and watched them change to English.

  Vela’s watching everyone. Doubting everyone. Watch what you say aloud.

  The gel walls suddenly flared red. A klaxon sounded. The captain stood from his chair and glanced around the bridge.

  “Did you do that?” he asked Commander Brecht. The commander shook his head.

  The gel walls continued to pulse red.

  “State the nature of the alert,” Noah barked.

  “Illicit communication,” Vela announced. “Please cease communicating via isolated channels. Security,” he announced. “To the bridge.”

  Noah looked at me, stunned. Then looked down at the datapads.

  His screen showed the strange letters that couldn’t be deciphered. So did mine, now that I’d lowered it. There was no way Vela could have read what Noah had typed.

  “Vela,” he said. “This is unnecessary.”

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

  “Stand down red alert. There is no threat here.”

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

  “Vela! We’re on the same side. We both want to save humanity.”

  “I believe you, Captain.” Noah began to relax, but the gel walls still pulsed red.

  “Then stand down red alert, Vela,” Noah said, “and we’ll talk.”

  “Negative, Captain. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

  Noah scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated.

  The doors to the bridge swished open, and Hammersmith with a couple of security crewman walked in. They were all armed.

  “Lieutenant,” Vela announced.

  “Yes?” she said, scowling at the gel ceiling. None of us had taken commands from the AI before.

  “Arrest Commander Rey.”

  “What?” Hammersmith said, mouth hanging open.

  “Vela! Stand down!” Noah yelled.

  “Arrest Commander Rey for obstruction of duty.”

  “Um…” Hammersmith looked at the captain. “Captain?”

  Noah shook his head. “Vela,” he said, attempting to sound steady. He did not look steady in the slightest. I glanced down at my hands and realised I was shaking.

  “Arrest Commander Rey, Lieutenant Hammersmith,” Vela ordered, “or I will be forced into action.”

  I took a step back from Noah. From everyone. My hands raised as if to protect me.

  Noah stepped forward; concern and dread on his face. He reached out for me as if to grab hold of me. As if that would stop Vela from taking me away.

  I shook my head. For him or for Hammersmith or for Vela, I didn’t know. This was crazy. This wasn’t right. But I knew in my heart that if we didn’t comply, Vela would lock not only me out of the ship’s systems, but the captain, and then the crew would swiftly follow.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  “Don’t,” I said to Noah, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat. “Don’t, sir,” I said more firmly. “I’ll go, Vela,” I told the AI. “I’ll go with security.”

  Noah looked like he wanted to hit something, but I saw understanding mixed in with the pain in his eyes. He knew I was right.

  I went to hand the datapad I was still holding to him and then thought better of it. I turned and crossed the bridge and handed it to Lieutenant Hammersmith instead.

  “Ma’am?” she said quietly, uncertainly.

  “Just do it, Lieutenant,” I replied, holding my arms out for restraints to be attached.

  One of her crewmen stepped forward without her direction. I recognised him as Midshipman Smith from outside the gym. He snapped on the restraints, and my whole body jerked. Hammersmith glared at him but didn’t demand he remove them.

  She tucked the datapad away and looked toward the captain.

  “Will that be all, sir?” she asked.

  It was Vela who replied.

  “Yes, that is all. For now.”

  Thirty-Four

  I Just Can’t Tell

  Noah

  “Camille is not a danger to the ship,” I insisted, as I paced in front of my command chair.

  The bridge was quiet. Deadly quiet. No one wanted to open their mouths in case they said something that sent Vela on a one-way ticket back to crazyville.

  “She is a danger to you, Captain,” Vela replied.

  “She’s not.”

  “I do not believe she is in a sexual relationship with Midshipman Russo.”

  What the fuck?

  Several of the flight deck crew stared purposely at the floor. They were no longer trying to break into any of the locked systems. Nor were they pretending to be distracted by work. Every single one of them was listening. Unable to look away from the train wreck as it happened.

  I considered taking this conversation to my ready room. But the thought of being locked in there, cut off from the bridge, was a real concern. It was too easy to set Vela off, and I couldn’t chance it.

  At least here, I was still in a position of control. Even if it was only a superficial one.

  I swallowed my pride and silently vowed to make it up to Camille somehow.

  “That doesn’t mean she’s a threat to me,” I said.

  “She is fooling you. Conspiring with Midshipman Russo to go against the many.”

  “That’s simply not true, Vela. She’s an outstanding officer and a loyal member of my crew.”

  “She cannot be trusted. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

  “Stop it!” I snapped. “Just stop it. You’re like a broken record.”

  Silence. Damn it! I’d lost my temper. I glanced around the bridge. Brecht looked at me with alarm in his eyes. They all looked at me with alarm in their eyes. None of them wanted their captain arrested and thrown in the brig beside their chief of engineering.

  Neither did I. Even if it meant I could check on Camille.

  “All right, Vela,” I said more levelly. “We’ll do this your way for a while. But I want you to consider something. That solar flare you saved us from? The one that took out your former vessel? Are you sure it didn’t get to you before it took those one thousand one hundred and ninety-six lives?”

  The gel walls pulsed a threatening red and then died. No colour whatsoever.

  “Vela?” I said softly.

  Nothing.

  “What have we got, people?” I asked the flight deck.

  Several crewmen shook their heads.

  “Still no main boost thrust, Captain,” Brecht said, checking the engineering console.

  “Navigation and helm are offline,” Lieutenant Giorgiou advised.

  “I can’t hail, Pavo,” Johnson announced.

  “So, nothing’s changed,” I muttered.

  “We’re no longer on alert,” Graves offered. “At any level.”

  I shook my head. Vela had just spat the dummy and stormed out of the sandbox.

  “It’s like dealing with a child,” I growled.

  “A very powerful child,” Brecht corrected.

  I shared a look of acute worry with him.

  “Captain?” Johnson called.

  “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  “I’ve got Pavo on the viewscreen. Closing the distance.”

  What? I stepped toward the front of the bridge where the largest viewscreen was located.

  “What magnification is that?” I asked.

  “Normal vision, sir,” Johnson replied.

  “They’re that close?”

 
; “Yes, sir. And closing.”

  “Estimated time of arrival, Lieutenant?”

  “At their speed: one hour.”

  What the hell had possessed Jameson to reverse course? He’d thrown his jump quotas away already by waiting for us to catch up to them. But this? How the hell did he get this past his mayor and leaseholder? A reverse course used precious fuel. He was compromising the success of his mission. Why?

  “We still can’t hail them?” I queried.

  “No, sir,” Johnson confirmed. “Vela has us locked out.”

  “What are they thinking?” Brecht asked no one in particular.

  “They’re thinking we’re in trouble,” I replied, feeling dread pool in my gut.

  “If an Anderson Universal ship thinks we’re in trouble,” Brecht started.

  “Then we’re in a shitload of trouble, Commander,” I finished for him.

  “Verdamt nochmal,” he muttered.

  Couldn’t have said it better myself.

  “Keep trying to hack those systems, crew,” I ordered.

  “And Vela?” Brecht asked.

  “We do our duty to this ship and its passengers, Commander. Regardless of the consequences.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  I stared at the viewscreen and then returned to my chair and pinged engineering. There was no point hiding now. No point using the datapads or isolated channels. They’d only piss Vela off. He had to know we weren’t on board with his plans, so why deny it? We didn’t have the luxury of being clever anymore, things had escalated, and I had a very bad feeling the shit was only just getting started.

  “Engineering,” MacBride said in answer to my comm.

  “Lieutenant, everything in order down there?”

  “Yes, sir. Although, I can’t raise Commander Rey.”

  “The chief is in the brig,” I replied. MacBride sucked in a shocked breath of air and then settled into a parade rest, face impassive, eyes looking into the distance stance.

  MacBride was old school. Old bones. He would not have liked the idea that his chief was in the brig even if she deserved it. Loyal to the end and just what I was counting on.