By the time I was ready to leave my room, Ratbag had won his own personal battle with courage and finished his business.
“Good dog,” I said scratching him behind the ear and offering him a treat. “Wanna go for a walk?”
Tiny tail wagging, he ran across the room to the door and waited for me to attach his leash. I probably could have let him run wild. Not too much was denied me. Except longer showers. But even though Ratbag was the only dog onboard Aquila, and wouldn’t get into a fight with a bigger one while we walked, I always felt better when I knew he was on his leash.
Leash attached, I slapped my wrist comm to the door panel and carefully peered out, checking the way was clear.
“Now quiet, baby,” I whispered. “Don’t want to wake up the monster.”
I tiptoed across the sitting room and past the kitchen and dining room, then held my breath. I was fairly sure Ratbag was holding his too. I could hear my father’s voice down the corridor. Loud. Obnoxious. Yelling at someone. His office door was open. The door to our quarters was no more than five feet past it.
We weren’t going to make it.
I waited for a particularly virulent explosion of venom and double-timed it towards freedom.
“Adriana!” my father bellowed, cutting off whomever was getting an earful over his comm channel. “Where are you going dressed like that?”
“Just walking Ratbag, Father,” I said. “I won’t go far. I promise.”
“Why do you insist on calling that thing…Ratbag?”
Because you wouldn’t let me call him Rascal, I thought bitterly.
“Roger’s a silly name for a dog,” I offered. “He doesn’t look anything like a ‘Roger’ to me.”
My father stared at me from across his too big desk. Shirt sleeves fastened with gold cufflinks, tie straight as an arrow, piercing black eyes glaring at me.
“I want to talk to you later,” he said. Ratbag was safe for the time being.
“OK,” I said.
“I’m too busy right now,” he added. “But I want you back here, dressed in something more appropriate at one o’clock. Luncheon with the mayor.”
I suppressed a groan and nodded.
“Appropriate attire, Adriana. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded his head and slammed a finger down on his viewscreen, making the device wobble.
“Have you corrected your mistake?” my father said to the screen.
“It will take longer than that to change the coding,” a man’s voice said.
“Don’t give me excuses. Give me what I want. I can’t make it more simple than that.”
His eyes came up to see I was still standing there, like some unfortunate deer caught in the sights of a hunter.
He scowled. Waved me off. And then pressed a button that shut the door to his office in my face.
“All right, then,” I said to the gel coating. “Walkies!”
“Yip yip!” came the ever-present joyful reply.
“What would I do without you, Ratbag?” I asked.
He wagged his tail.
We stepped out of the leaseholder’s quarters, and I let out a sigh of relief. One obstacle down. One more to go and then we’d be home free.
As we started walking toward the central hub, which unfortunately would take us far too close to the mayoral offices, the gel wall beside us lit up in a pleasing shade of green.
“Good morning, Adi,” Aquila said.
“Good morning, Aquila,” I replied. “How’s it going?”
“It is going quite well. Thank you.”
“Any chance you can tell me if the mayor’s up ahead?” I asked.
“The mayor is not on this deck,” the AI replied.
“That’s a relief,” I muttered.
“What are your plans today, Adi?”
“I’m going to see if they need some help down in the habitats. There’s a florist there that I’ve befriended, and she lets me play with some of the designs. I’m getting quite good at it.”
“I would avoid Habitat One if you wish to miss the mayor.”
“Got it. Mandy’s stall is in the Habitat Two central hub, so we should be OK.”
“I shall leave you then, Adi. Enjoy your day.”
“You too, Aquila. Have fun.”
“I am not capable of having fun, but I will…hope for fewer systems anomalies than usual.”
I scowled at the gel floor as I waited for the lift.
“Do you get a lot of those?” I asked.
“Adi,” Aquila admonished. “You may be a VIP passenger, but you are not Anderson Universal crew. I am not authorised to tell you that.”
“Then why mention it?” I groused, stepping onto the thankfully empty lift.
“I was making conversation. They say it helps the civilians to be more at ease with my presence.”
“I’m already at ease with you, Aquila. You know that.”
“I do. I merely use you for practice.”
“Gee thanks,” I muttered as the lift stopped at the Habitat Two central hub.
“You are welcome,” the AI said in his monotone voice. “I must go now.”
“Goodbye, Aquila,” I said, stepping out into the colour and bustle of normalcy. Or as normal as it gets onboard a spaceship.
“Goodbye, Adi,” the AI said, and the gel wall returned to its former white setting.
I wasn’t fooled. The artificial intelligences onboard the Anderson Universal ships were always present. I’d read as much as I could about them before we’d launched, and even managed to find some new information once we’d left Earth. Thanks to good old Dad.
There was nothing on this vessel that wasn’t controlled by Aquila. We might think we had autonomy in our everyday life. I might even think my floral designs were mine alone.
But even those, I was sure, were tweaked and adjusted and steered in the direction the AI wanted.
We might be in space.
But we were not alone.
Two
I Want Answers, People
Hugo
“Initiating jump point calculations, Captain,” Aquila announced.
“Thank you, Aquila,” Captain Moore replied. “Any anomalies in the system, Tremblay?”
“Negative, sir,” I replied from my station. “All scans have come back clear.”
“Not even something worth a detour?” the captain asked hopefully.
“Unless you’d like the science department to take notes on a dwarf planet that appears to be on a three hundred year elliptical orbit of the primary, then no, sir.”
“I like dwarf planets,” the captain said. “People underestimate them.”
Robert Moore was not a tall man. I thought perhaps the sentiment was more appropriate for humans than planets coming from him.
“I’ve tagged the relevant data in the scans, Captain,” I offered. “And will send copies to the science labs.”
“Lucky them,” he said leaning back in his seat. “Johnson,” he called, “how about you take us as close to that gas giant as you can manage and we’ll give the fleet at least one spectacular glimpse of a system they’ll never see again.”
“Aye-aye, sir. Changing course now.”
“Captain,” Aquila said from the gel ceiling a few moments later, “the mayor is asking why we are changing course.”
“Tell him we’re sightseeing,” Moore replied equably.
We waited for the returning salvo, expecting it to be colourful. Mayor Logan was quite a guttermouth.
“The mayor has advised that the leaseholder will not be…happy.”
Aquila, on the other hand, did not have quite the same vocabulary.
“The leaseholder is not the captain of this ship,” Moore growled. “I am.”
“I have relayed your message to him,” Aquila diplomatically replied.
“Fleet-wide hail, López,” the captain said dismissing the mayor as irrelevant.
“Fleet-wide channel open, Captain,
” the communications officer replied.
“This is Captain Robert Moore of the AUS Aquila. Off our starboard bow, you’ll note the impressive form of a gas giant that puts our own Jupiter to shame. We don’t know if we are the first beings to view this system, but we can assume from evidence so far gathered that is the case. So, I believe, a little contest is in order to mark the occasion. The passenger who takes the best photograph of this impressive celestial body as we fly past shall be given the honour of naming it. Snap away and send your files to Aquila. We’ll let our very competent AI select the winner. You can be assured that he won’t be biased.” He paused briefly. Then nodded. “That is all.”
The comm channel closed.
“Do you really think Aquila has the skills to judge photography, Captain?” Commander Lawrence asked from her first officer’s station.
Moore laughed. “I have no idea, Catherine. But it’ll be fun to find out.”
“Yes, sir,” she offered with a small smile of her own.
“Jump point calculations have been made, Captain,” Aquila advised some time later. “And I have chosen a photograph.”
The AI put the picture up on the main viewscreen. It was stunning. I had no idea if better ones had been taken, but this one showed Aquila silhouetted against the backdrop of the gas giant. An almost too small speck, taken by someone on one of the other fleet vessels, that showed exactly how insignificant we all were in the vastness of space.
“Wow,” Lieutenant López murmured.
“Wow, indeed,” the captain replied softly. “And the name, Aquila?” he asked in a more normal volume.
“Hope, Captain. The photographer has called the gas giant Hope.”
We stared at the image; at the reds and greens and greys that indicated the different layers of gasses. And at the little spaceship that was dwarfed by its magnificent magnitude.
“Congratulate them for us, Aquila,” the captain finally said.
“Acknowledged, Captain.”
“And lay the jump point,” Captain Moore added. “It’s time to see what hope has brought us.”
“Yes, Captain. Jump point beacon released.”
We watched as the Anderson Universal designed jump point beacon shot out of our port side and executed a retro burn to bring it to a stop some distance from the fleet.
“Fleet-wide hail, Lieutenant López.”
“Aye, sir. Fleet-wide channel is open.”
“This is Captain Moore. Prepare for jump transition. We go with hope and hearts full of wonder. May our journey be successful. That is all.”
“Chanel is closed, sir,” López offered, her rounded eyes staring at the captain with no small measure of her own wonder right then.
“Yellow alert,” the captain said, then glanced around the bridge at each of us. “We have successfully carried out one jump already. But that in no way means every jump thereafter will work. As I have said before and will no doubt say again; it’s been an honour, crewmen.”
“Aye-aye, sir!” we all shouted.
“Confirm we are go for jump, Aquila.”
“I can confirm we are go for jump, Captain.”
“So be it. Jump on my mark.”
“On your mark.”
We looked out into the deep black of space before us. Somewhere out there was New Earth. The hope of humanity. Of what was left of it in any case. We might be the ones to reach it first, but New Earth belonged to all of us.
Four fleets.
Thirty-two vessels.
Just over forty thousand survivors of a dying solar system.
“Mark,” the captain said.
We held our breaths.
And then nothing happened.
“Status!” Captain Moore barked a suspended moment later.
“Jump drive is active, sir,” Chief Deschene said from engineering. “It’s not us.”
“Has the fleet jumped without us?”
“No, sir,” I advised. “The fleet is linked with our calculations and therefore has been unable to execute the jump.”
“Aquila! What’s going on?” Moore demanded.
“I am unsure, Captain. The anomaly appeared unexpectedly.”
“I’ll say,” Johnson muttered. “If an AI says unexpectedly, you can be damn sure it happened without any warning whatsoever.”
“Yes, thank you for that excellent explanation, Lieutenant,” the captain said. “But do we know why there’s an anomaly at all?”
“Negative, Captain,” I offered. “All other systems are operating within acceptable parameters.”
“Stand down from yellow alert,” Captain Moore instructed. “Advise the fleet we’ll be delayed while we run systems checks.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” López offered.
The bridge was tense. We hadn’t done enough jumps yet to feel completely at ease with them. In the back of my mind was the thought that this technology had been barely tested. A few short jumps within our solar system, while dodging solar flares was it. And the one intersystem jump we had under our belts so far.
It was enough to make anyone nervous.
“I want answers, people,” Captain Moore said. “Call in second shift to help. No one on this bridge stands down from their station until we know why this jump failed.”
“Yes, Captain,” we all said with various amounts of enthusiasm. None of us would dare shirk our responsibilities. That’s not who we were. But none of us knew what this anomaly would mean for the rest of our journey to New Earth.
Hope was a fickle thing. Throw a curveball at it, and it soon becomes riddled with doubt.
The captain stood in the centre of the bridge and stared at the jump point beacon.
The only thing I did not doubt was him. If anyone could get us through this, it was Captain Robert Carmichael Moore of the AUS Aquila.
Three
Drink
Adi
“You better get back to your quarters, Adi,” Mandy said. “A failed jump will have everyone on edge, but your dad?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Wouldn’t want to be the mayor right now, that’s for sure.”
The mayor. I glanced at my wrist comm. It was five minutes to one.
And then a thought occurred.
“At least something good will come out of this,” I said to my friend.
“What’s that, girl?” she asked, opening up her digital-flower stall again after having locked it down for the jump that didn’t occur.
“Lunch will be cancelled,” I said cheerfully, grinning from ear to ear.
Mandy laughed at me, shaking her head, and then reached down to Ratbag to cuddle him.
“You can leave this little one with me if you like,” she said. “Just in case lunch is still on.”
“Nah,” I said, taking the bundle of love out of her hands. “Dad will be too busy reaming out the mayor to notice us.”
“All right then. If you’re sure. I know how you said that Ratbag rubs your dad the wrong way. And on a day like today?” She shrugged her shoulders again.
I grimaced. Mandy wasn’t wrong. My father seemed to have a low tolerance for anything that had the potential to muck up his plans. And a long-haired Chihuahua, which shed all over our quarter’s chairs, frequently upset his plans.
My father did not like having to change suits once dressed.
“I’ll catch you, later,” I said and started for the central hub lifts.
I’d made it partway across the courtyard when the lift doors opened, and my father’s security detail stepped out. Four of them. I sighed and placed Ratbag on the ground, gripping his leash tightly.
“Ms Price,” the head goon said. “Your father has requested you return to your quarters immediately.”
“I was just heading there,” I said.
“He is not happy that you chose to remain on this deck when a jump had been scheduled.”
“He knew I was heading out to walk Ratbag,” I offered, stepping into the lift and being surrounded by tall, testosterone thick men.
<
br /> I glanced at the one closest to me, noting the plasma pistol he wore on his hip. They weren’t normally this obvious with their weapons. The failed jump had everyone…jumpy, then. I sniggered to myself.
“You are to change clothes immediately,” the guard who’d been doing all the talking said, ignoring my laughter. “And meet Mr Price and Mayor Logan in your dining room.”
Well, that sobered me up in a flash. The guard just frowned at my side.
I ducked my head, not wishing to see the censure in his eyes. It was the third time they’d had to come searching for me since we’d left Earth. Sometimes space seemed so very vast. And at others, it seemed way too cramped.
“Lunch is still on, then,” I muttered.
“And you will be late,” the guard said.
I sighed. “Why do you even care?”
“Every time we have to chase you down in another part of the ship takes my men away from the main deck where they should to be.”
“Then don’t ‘chase me down,’” I said.
“You know better than that, Ms Price,” the guard said as the doors opened onto the main deck.
I stepped out, keeping my head high, as the guards flanked me, herding me toward my father’s quarters. It was as if they were scared I’d make a run for it. But there was no escaping my father’s wrath now. I glanced down at what I was wearing. For the Habitat Two central hub, it was more than appropriate. For lunch, with my father and the mayor, it was woefully lacking.
But then, I was woefully lacking in almost every aspect according to Nathan Price. I might have inherited my Swedish mother's eyes and hair, but I was no supermodel. It didn’t matter that he’d given me the chin that ruined all of that. I was still less than he wanted.
And in the end, he hadn’t even wanted my mother.
I pushed the sharp stab of pain down at that thought, even as it built to a crescendo inside me. Now was not the time to fall apart.
“That will be all,” I said at the door to our quarters. “You are not invited inside.”
Zenith Point (The Sector Fleet, Book 4) Page 2
