Most of the others, though, were clustering, working, trying to get control back to the bridge.
Atwater would occasionally look at them longingly, as if he wanted to help them, rather than work with her.
She elbowed him a few times, worried that in the middle of all of this consternation, the real important thing would be lost: they were near that Scrapheap, and there was evidence someone had tampered with it.
Why was no one concerned that the thieves would come back and harm the Renegat?
Or maybe that had been First Officer Crowe’s concern all along. Maybe he was focused on that and worried that the captain was too excitable.
She had no idea. If she had had experience on ships, she might know more about what was going on, but she didn’t. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Then the doors to the bridge slid open and Captain Preemas strode through them, alone. No Natalia Stephanos.
In his hands, he held laser pistols—three per hand, which seemed to be all he could hold. More were strapped to his waist, and over both shoulders, he carried laser rifles.
The conversation on the bridge halted. Everyone looked at him.
The charged air seemed even more electric. Breaux almost forgot to breathe.
“We can’t get into engineering,” Captain Preemas said in a very calm tone. A surprisingly calm tone, considering how he looked—wild-eyed and covered with weaponry. “Crowe has been planning this mutiny for weeks, maybe for the entire trip. He dismantled the captain’s command system in my quarters, and he disabled the secondary command system near the weapons room.”
Tindo Ibori’s eyes were wide. Breaux clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. Atwater still leaned on the console as if he needed it to hold him up.
“So, we’re going to break into Engineering,” Captain Preemas said. “India Romano, I need you to contact Fernando Oshie. We need to gather all the personal weaponry we can. We’re going in, and we’re taking back control of this ship.”
Security Officer Romano, a tall dramatically dressed woman who usually lurked near the back of the bridge looked startled that Captain Preemas even knew her name.
She nodded and frowned at the same time. “But…um…why Oshie? I’m sorry, I’m not clear—”
“Because he’s head of security now,” Preemas snapped. “Didn’t you study the chart on personnel changes?”
“I didn’t memorize it, sir,” Romano said. Her tone implied that there might be more changes. Or maybe Breaux was just reading into it from her own assumptions.
“Well, you should have memorized it, shouldn’t you,” Preemas said. “I need the rest of you to pair up and leave the bridge, heading to your quarters to recover your personal weapons—if you’re not already carrying them. And be warned, I’ll be keeping track of who doesn’t come back. I need you all on this.”
Breaux winced, and timidly raised her hand. She wanted to stay invisible, but she couldn’t, not after this.
“This is not a classroom,” Preemas snapped. “Ask your damn question.”
Breaux’s cheeks heated. She took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t sound as terrified as she felt. Although she wasn’t sure why not. Maybe because she believed that Preemas wouldn’t respect her anymore if he knew how scared she was.
Not that she was sure he respected her now.
“Well?” he snapped.
“Um,” she said, and winced again. “Some of us weren’t issued personal weapons, sir.”
“What?” Preemas asked. “First Officer Crowe was thinking ahead again, I see.”
“No, sir.” Atwater raised his head. But his hands were still braced on that console. “I think it was an oversight, sir. Those of us from Sector Base Z didn’t go through the usual arrival protocols.”
Preemas studied him as if trying to figure out whether or not Atwater was being critical or just being honest. Then he must have come to some kind of answer in his mind, because he half-smiled, and adjusted the laser pistols in his hands.
He set two of the three in his right hand on the nearest console, and tossed the third at Atwater.
Atwater stood, caught the pistol and held it.
Breaux tried to sink back into the wall. She didn’t want a weapon. She also didn’t want Preemas to yell at her for not having one. She was still dithering when Preemas whirled, grabbed another pistol, and tossed it at her.
She barely caught it. The pistol was heavier than she expected, and it yanked the muscles in her arm. She brought it up, looking at how Atwater was holding his. He gripped it on the non-business end, and his fingers were nowhere near anything that looked like something that might activate the pistol.
Preemas was watching her, half amused, half annoyed.
He was scaring her even worse than he had a moment ago.
“I-I-I don’t know how to use this, sir,” she said.
“Then learn,” he said and turned away from her. “Anyone else not issued a weapon?”
No one else on the bridge responded. Breaux couldn’t tell if they were being willfully silent or if they had all received weapons. Since the rest of them had been on the Renegat from the beginning, she would assume they all had weaponry—and knew how to use it.
“We’ll figure out who doesn’t have a weapon, and we’ll hand out the extras,” Preemas said. “I’m putting you in charge of that, Atwater, since you know so much about the Sector Base Z people.”
“I—um—” Atwater started. It was clear that he was going to deny he knew anything.
Then Preemas glared at him.
“Right, sir. I’ll get right on that, sir. Justine, I’ll need your help.” Atwater looked at her meaningfully, but she didn’t understand the look. Except that he wanted her help and she was supposed to understand what that meant.
She nodded, her head bobbing ridiculously.
Preemas had already moved beyond them, talking to the rest of the bridge crew, asking about their progress.
He no longer looked like a perfect captain, but more like a renegade who had taken over the ship.
Odd that it was him that looked like the renegade when First Officer Crowe was the one who had disobeyed orders.
Atwater took Breaux’s arm. His grip was a little too tight.
“Come with me,” he said. Then he made her hold up her laser pistol. He adjusted something on its side, and moved her fingers so that she held it differently.
She looked up at him, feeling stupid and scared and like her body was covered in little prickles of energy.
“You were holding it wrong. It won’t go off now, unless you want it to,” he said.
She didn’t want it to. She didn’t want any of the weapons to go off. Why had she joined this ship?
Oh, yeah. Adventure.
How stupid had that been?
Atwater glanced over his shoulder at Preemas, who was still talking to Ibori. Something about breaking into engineering, moving the ship, the Scrapheap, not having success.
Breaux couldn’t catch all the words, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Atwater tugged at her arm, and said so softly she could barely hear him, “Come on. Let’s get out of this mess.”
If only it were that simple.
Still, she smiled at him, and let him lead her off the bridge. Somewhere safe, she hoped. Or at least, somewhere out of the line of fire, wherever that might be.
The Renegat
Stephanos reached bridge level just as two of the newer recruits were heading out the doors. She hung back in the corridor so that they wouldn’t see her. The woman, whose name was something something Breaux, was the one who handled the mapping of the past sectors for Preemas. The man who was with her had been supposed to work with Stephanos on the anacapa and foldspace, but she had blown him off weeks ago. His knowledge was all theoretical and maybe that would be useful one day, it certainly wasn’t right now.
What she wouldn’t give for someone who actually knew as much about anacapa drives as she di
d. Crowe was good with them, but they weren’t his specialty. And his comment that the drives were vibrating made her even more uncomfortable.
Although that could possibly explain why she felt so off balance—besides all the events going on. This deck felt charged, as if something had activated and was adding some kind of ionization to the air. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck had risen. She knew that feeling. Sometimes it came from a malfunctioning anacapa drive.
If whatsisname—Atwater?—knew as much about anacapas and foldspace as he thought he did, he would have known that this ship had yet another problem that needed a real solution, and needed it fast.
Part of her felt oddly relieved, though, that Crowe hadn’t sent her on a fake mission. Something really was wrong, and he wanted her to solve it. So he still trusted her abilities, if nothing else.
She slipped through the still open bridge doors, only to stop right inside of them.
No one stood at their stations. No one was paying any attention to what was going on with the ship. They had all crowded around Preemas, who was standing near his captain’s chair, loaded down with laser rifles and laser pistols.
Tindo Ibori and Yulia Colvin were hanging back, as if they wanted nothing to do with any of this, but everyone else was watching with great interest.
Stephanos stomach twisted, and for a half second, she thought about fleeing.
Then Preemas turned around. His green eyes met hers and narrowed.
“I trust this means you got into engineering,” he said. “But then, that begs the question. If you did, why are you here?”
She gave him a nervous smile, which just made her want to kick herself.
“It’s complicated,” she said.
“Actually, it’s simple,” Preemas said. “Either we control the ship or Crowe does. And right now, Crowe does. You’ve done nothing to help that.”
She slipped around the outside of the consoles, closer to the walls than to Preemas. She glanced at her usual post near the anacapa drive. At least the drive’s protective cover wasn’t glowing. There was that, anyway.
“There’s a problem with the anacapa drive,” she said.
“Uh-huh, sure,” Preemas said. “Something he caused, I suppose.”
“No,” she said, her voice sounding shakier than she wanted. “No. It’s something else. The Scrapheap maybe. Can’t you feel it?”
“What I feel,” Preemas said, “is anger at your failure. Now we’ll just have to blast our way in.”
She had reached the anacapa drive and, to her relief, Ibori had joined her. He at least understood how the drives worked.
“I think we can get in if I confirm what’s going on with the drive,” she said.
“You mean, Crowe sent you on a mission and you took it?” Preemas sounded even angrier than he had a moment ago. “You’re listening to him?”
“I’m double-checking him,” she snapped. “If he’s right, then all of this—who runs the damn ship—doesn’t matter all. We’ll all die here. Right here. As close to succeeding in our mission as we’ll ever get. And no one, no one, will know what happened to us.”
India Romano looked up from a console near the captain’s chair. Her eyes were comically wide. They were lavender, matching her hair, which only served to make her look ridiculous.
“I’m sure that’s what Crowe told you,” Preemas said. “It’s a distraction, Stephanos. Now, get your weapon. We’re heading to engineering.”
“I am going to check on this,” she said, realizing that she too was now defying orders from the captain. “Because if Crowe is right—”
“Oh, he’ll be right,” Preemas said. “He set this up as something that will convince you he’s right and I’m wrong. And you’ll move to his side, and so will everyone else because we have ‘an emergency.’ And it’s just manufactured, Stephanos. So get over here.”
She shook her head. “I need to check.”
Preemas grabbed one of the laser pistols that had been sitting on the seat of the captain’s chair. He pointed the pistol at her.
“No,” he said. “Either you follow my orders or you get off my bridge.”
She looked at the pistol, her heart pounding. He was actually doing this. He didn’t care about any of them.
She froze for just a moment, then she realized she couldn’t follow his orders even if she wanted to. Not and live with herself. If they survived, which she wasn’t sure they were going to.
“Look,” she said, and to her surprise, her voice wasn’t shaking. “You might actually have a point. Crowe might be making this up. But if he isn’t, then we’re screwed, Captain. It won’t matter who is on your side or who is on his. So I’m going to check to see if Crowe is telling the truth. And if he’s not, I’ll walk right over there and join you. But if he is, then I’m going to solve this, because whatever happens here is irrelevant if the anacapa drive is malfunctioning.”
No one else said a word. No one else moved.
Preemas didn’t move either. His hand was steady, his gaze narrowed. She could actually see his brain working. He was trying to see if there was a percentage in shooting her. Or having someone restrain her. Or removing her from the bridge. Or doing something to shut her up.
She could stand here and let the bastard think, or she could ignore him and do her work.
She gave him a hard look, an I dare you look, then walked the remaining distance to the anacapa container. The air felt alive here. She got goosebumps on her skin in addition to the raised hair.
Something was happening, but she wasn’t sure what it was.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Preemas. He continued to hold the pistol on her. Her heart rate increased to a level she had never experienced before.
He was going to shoot her when she wasn’t looking at him, when she was trying to save the ship.
Then he lowered the pistol, still watching her, as if he couldn’t decide what to do with her.
She moved to the console closest to the anacapa drive, where she usually ran the drive. She didn’t want to go to the anacapa container, in case Preemas actually shot her. If he missed and hit the container after she had opened it, well, then there was no telling what would happen.
He whirled away, pistol still clutched in his hand, as if he didn’t care about her at all anymore. He went back to the group he had been talking to before she arrived, as if she hadn’t interrupted him at all.
She let out a small breath. Ibori moved closer to her.
“I can monitor the controls,” he said softly, “if you want to look at the drive.”
She swallowed, then said in a near-whisper, “I’d rather you watch the captain.”
Ibori nodded. “I can do both,” he said.
Her heart rate spiked. It was almost painful. She was either going to have to trust Ibori, or she was going to have to do it all herself, which would take even more time.
“Let me look at the readings first,” she said a little louder, so that it didn’t seem like the two of them were whispering against Preemas.
Ibori stepped away from the console, and gazed at the group around Preemas. They had shifted positions slightly, blocking his view of Stephanos, and hers of him. She hoped Ibori could see more clearly from his vantage.
Then Stephanos bent over the console. The anacapa controls hadn’t been activated, so the Renegat should not go into foldspace. But if what Crowe said was true, then shoulds didn’t matter. Whatever would happen was going to happen.
She couldn’t see any evidence of Crowe tampering with the anacapa drive either, but she only gave it a cursory look. She didn’t believe that Crowe would tamper with the drive just to get her attention, no matter what Preemas said.
Of course, she hadn’t expected Crowe to take over the ship either, but given the way that Preemas was acting right now, she was beginning to have some sympathy for Crowe.
Stephanos let out a shallow breath. Preemas had every right to try to get his ship back, but he was no
t calculating the danger the ship was in.
Maybe she should just talk to him, get him out of that paranoid space.
After she dealt with the drive.
Her heart rate had slowed as she focused on the drive controls. They looked just fine.
But she wasn’t letting the controls and their readings dictate her behavior. Or maybe she was unwilling to believe that Crowe had lied to her to get her away from engineering.
“Okay,” she said to Ibori, her voice sounding steadier than she expected. “You monitor the controls. I’m going to open the container and peek inside.”
And that was all she was going to do. Peek. She wasn’t going to open the container all the way, she wasn’t going to activate anything. She was just going to look.
Her heartrate spiked again. She hadn’t been this nervous ever, in her memory. Not ever.
She took the five steps over to the container. On this ship, the container was a small black box, that looked like someone had committed a weird flaw in the design of the floor of the bridge. The box grew out of that floor—seemingly—although with a closer look, it became clear that the box was attached to the floor, but not part of the floor.
She decided to follow the training for a malfunctioning anacapa drive. If the drive looked fine on the controls, there were ways that an engineer could determine if the connection between the controls and the drive was flawed.
She put her hands on the sides of the box. It felt just a little hot, and that sense of something ionized—something electric—something charged—grew just enough to make her shiver. Something was happening here, but what she didn’t know.
Did Crowe have the ability to tamper with the anacapa drive and not have it show up on the controls?
She tried to banish that thought before it finished crossing her brain, but she wasn’t able to do so. She had no idea what Crowe could or couldn’t do. And she didn’t want to think about whether or not she had the capability of doing something like that.
She only knew she never would.
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