Zenith Point (The Sector Fleet, Book 4)

by Nicola Claire

  “What the fuck, man!” one of the passengers was saying.

  “Your identity has been noted,” the guard advised. “You have received one black mark. Two black marks will result in reduced privileges. Three black marks will mean death.”

  “What about him?” the guy asked, indicating the dead passenger lying in a pool of blood.

  “An example,” the guard said cooly. “Bad day for him to be a hero.”

  One or two of the other guards laughed. It sounded eerie, coming from their helmets. Mechanised. Unnatural.

  “Your quarters,” the guard said.

  “You can’t do this,” the passenger growled.

  “It is done. All that’s left is how you comply. One black mark or two?”

  The remaining passengers looked down at their fallen comrade and then slowly lifted their hands above their heads.

  “Wise choice,” the guard said. Then turning to his comrades he snapped, “Escort them to their quarters. See that they make it there…safely.”

  “Yes, Major,” they barked.

  What the hell was going on?

  I watched while the guards stomped behind the now fearful passengers and realised I was shaking. Small tremors wracking my entire frame. It could have been anger, but I knew it was fear. My mouth had gone dry, and my head was hurting. Too much adrenaline, I thought, trying to slow my breathing down.

  The guard who’d shot the passenger walked up to his still form and stared down at it. I thought perhaps he was taking a moment to pray for the man he’d killed. But then he lifted his leg and kicked the passenger in the side. The guy was dead. He didn’t react. But I did.

  The guard’s helmeted head swung in my direction, clearly having heard my stifled gasp. I threw myself backwards out of view, but I was sure he had seen me.

  Panic charged in on thundering horses; my pulse sped up and my body became instantly clammy. I was fairly sure my father would have instructed the guards not to kill me. But what if they shot first and asked questions later? And then there was the dread of being imprisoned in my room in the leaseholder’s quarters. Or worse, imprisoned in the mayor’s rooms.

  I spun around and sprinted back to the observation deck lounge. Which was stupid, because there was only one way in and one way out.

  I turned in a slow circle, the massive expanse of windows displayed an inky black sky dotted with diamonds. The gel walls still pulsed red and the loungers were all empty.

  “Damn it,” I muttered.

  Ratbag whined.

  I could hear the distinctive steps of the armoured guard approaching. Terrifyingly, I could also hear the whir of his plasma rifle powering up.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God, I thought, biting my nail.

  And then I spotted a conduit hatch, hidden behind a digital palm. I flew across the room, unsure how I would get the hatch off in time. I carried a little screwdriver with me everywhere, but undoing the screws normally took more than a minute. I didn’t have more than a minute, but I was going to try.

  I placed ratbag on the floor beside me, issuing a terse, “Stay!” Then pulled out my screwdriver. My father didn’t know I had this. It had cost me one hundred dollars in the pay-for-passage central hub. I was pretty sure the guy knew I could afford it and had overcharged me.

  I checked over my shoulder; a stupid waste of precious time. But the guard hadn’t made it to the lounge yet. Turning back to the hatch, I pressed the head of the screwdriver into the gel screw and let out a startled yelp when the gel wall simply disintegrated as soon as I got close to touching it.

  “What the hell?”

  I didn’t waste any more time questioning my good fortune. I snatched up Ratbag and threw us both into the emergency tunnel. The hatch reformed behind us. I lay there panting. Head spinning. Unable to make out what had just happened.

  “Aquila?” I whispered. He must have done it. I certainly hadn’t.

  But the AI didn’t answer.

  The heavy sound of armoured boots grew louder. I froze, staring at the hatch, aware that it could reveal me at any moment.

  And then some ancient, primordial response kicked in, and I started to scramble away from the observation lounge. Ratbag made it difficult, so after a few seconds of blundering around, I set him down and whispered, “Walkies!”

  His little tail waggled, and he started to trot off ahead of me.

  I crouch-ran behind him.

  The hatch never opened at our backs.

  I had no idea what was going on.

  Eight

  Our Time Will Come

  Hugo

  I stared across the cell to the one next to mine, checking the blue diamond pattern of the containment field. It never wavered. It was rock solid. Whatever was wrong with Aquila was not affecting our safety measures.

  In some ways, that was a relief. Life support issues right now on top of everything else was frightening to consider. But not being able to find a chink in the AI’s armour was disturbing.

  Half an hour ago, he’d issued orders over the ship-wide comms to the civilians. I could only pray they’d all taken them seriously.

  “Aquila,” I tried again for the hundredth time since being locked up in here.

  And for the hundredth time, he didn’t answer.

  “Is he gone?” López asked in the cell next to mine.

  “I doubt it,” I offered. “But if he’s no longer answering direct questions, something’s gone haywire in his programming.”

  “Our current location in the brig isn’t enough of a sign that things are haywire onboard ship?” Johnson asked across the hallway.

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  “The armoured thugs were Nathan Price’s private security force,” I said. “This is a leaseholder coup. I held out hope that Aquila still had some level of command algorithms running. But it’s clear he’s not the Aquila we knew.”

  “Did you hear what he sounded like when he said time was up?” Armstrong asked.

  “Yeah,” López said, shuddering.

  “That so not normal,” Armstrong added.

  “None of this normal, moron,” Johnson snapped.

  “Enough!” I said, forcing as much authority into my voice as I could manage. “Now’s not the time to fall apart.”

  “Well, excuse me, sir,” Johnson said sarcastically, “but when is the time to fall apart?”

  “When you no longer wear that uniform, crewman,” I said, standing up.

  I looked at those cells that I could see in the brig. Aware everyone incarcerated in here could hear us talking. I raised my voice anyway, just to get the message across.

  “We are officers in the Anderson Universal Fleet,” I said. “We trained hard for our positions. We earned this uniform. And I’ll be damned if we degrade ourselves now because of a leaseholder going rogue. We are still AU. And this ship is still AU. No matter what, we do what we’ve been trained to do, and stand strong.”

  “But the captain…” López said.

  “Was a good man,” I replied. “He was an honourable man. Are you all going to forget your pledge to him and this ship? So easily? Is that who you want to be? Cowards?”

  “I’m not a fucking coward,” Johnson snapped.

  “Then stop acting like a civvy and start acting like an AU officer.”

  He held my stare for a moment and then released a shaky breath of air.

  “What do you suggest?” he finally said.

  I stared at the gel floor for a second and thought about what I was about to do. I’d been proud when I’d earned my position as chief tactical officer. And prouder still to gain my promotion prior to liftoff to lieutenant commander. I’d never once thought that I’d be in a position to captain a ship so young, though. I had time, I’d thought. The entire journey to New Earth and then some. There were officers above me. Not many. But enough.

  It never crossed my mind that I’d be in charge of more people than just those in my tactical team and while standing watch on the bridge on this voya
ge.

  My world had expanded beyond my imagining and conversely, considering where I currently was, shrunk alarmingly.

  “I don’t know yet what we’re going to do,” I finally admitted. “I’m open to suggestions. But I do know we have to keep order amongst ourselves. Because when the time comes, and it will come, we’ll need to act. Swiftly. Smoothly. Like a well-oiled machine. Or,” I said, looking at those officers I could see from my cell, “like the AU officers we’ve been trained to be.”

  I paused, letting them all think about that.

  “Chain of command is important, even in the brig,” I finally said. “The question you have to ask yourself is, are you still an AU officer in here? And will you do what you’ve been trained to do when the time comes?”

  “Yes,” several people said. Some even murmured, “Aye, sir.”

  “OK,” I said. “So we start brainstorming. And we keep ourselves fit and healthy. I don’t know how long they intend to keep us in here, but we can assume that no matter where they put us, it won’t be ideal. We divide into watches. But we don’t call them shifts. I’m betting certain words will trigger alarms in Aquila’s monitoring subroutines. So, let's go with names that mean nothing to them.”

  “How about colours?” Armstrong asked.

  “Too obvious,” I said with a shake of the head.

  More and more officers were standing up and facing me now. A few more suggestions were thrown out. Then someone said, “Space terms. You know like ‘flux’ or ‘nova’ or ‘zenith.’”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Now, who’s the most senior first lieutenant in each of your departments?”

  Several people raised their hands.

  “Combat experience?” I asked each one.

  Lieutenant Wilson in security was an obvious choice. But I didn’t want all the watches to be led by security. We needed a healthy representation of skills across the board. Lieutenant Munro was chosen out of the other possible suggestions; she’d been the next senior in engineering with excellent combat training grades back on Earth. I took lead of the last watch.

  “Congratulations,” I said grimly to Wilson and Munro. “You’ve both been promoted to lieutenant commander.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said, well aware of what had just landed on their shoulders.

  We divided the rest of the officers into watches, spreading skills as evenly as we could manage. That left my first officer. I needed someone who could step up to command if something happened to me. And it was highly likely that something would happen to me.

  I could have chosen one of the watch leaders, but I decided to choose someone in my own watch. Change of command would be easier. I looked at Johnson, López and Armstrong. They all looked back at me expectantly. Even Johnson.

  López tended to cry when under pressure, but she’d been the first to recognise a problem with Aquila. I’d also trained with her back on Earth. I knew she was quick, smart, and highly observant. She’d topped the comms module at the academy and earned her spot as first shift communications officer. I’m not sure she ever considered herself command material, but I knew given the right incentive she would rise to the challenge.

  And the crying thing. Well shit. We all felt the pressure from time to time. And López hadn’t shed a tear since we’d been thrown in here early this morning. In fact, she’d been the one to discuss options with me first. I saw a good officer in the cell next to mine.

  “Andrea,” I said.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  The entire brig froze, and then one by one they let out a breath of air and returned their attention to their watch leaders. Which meant my watch, Zenith, was paying attention to what I said next.

  “Congratulations, Commander,” I said, looking López in the eye. I would have, given different circumstances, asked her. But we weren’t in a position where choice was an option. I needed her. The ship needed her. The crew and passengers needed her. “You’ve been promoted to first officer,” I said.

  She swallowed thickly and then nodded her head.

  “Aye-aye, sir,” she said.

  “Then let’s get to work,” I announced. “Zenith will take first watch. The rest of you, exercise and shut-eye. Our time will come. And we will be ready.”

  “Yes, Captain!” the entire brig shouted.

  Nine

  Green Means Good, Right?

  Adi

  My stomach growled, and Ratbag whined in sympathy. Outside the hatch we had finally collapsed beside, the ship was silent. No passengers walking the corridors. No armoured security guys either.

  And absolutely no Anderson Universal crew.

  “I know, baby,” I murmured, stroking his silky fur. “But I’m not going back to our quarters.”

  Ratbag licked my hand as if he understood my reasoning.

  I’d been trying on and off to talk to Aquila. But he never replied. Occasionally, I’d hear orders he’d give my father’s men over the comms. And once he’d requested all personnel to report to their stations.

  But no one walked past our hiding hole on Deck G.

  I stared out of the hatch at the restaurants and stalls in the Habitat Two central hub. Mandy’s stall was all buttoned up, but some of the others were still open. Not that there was anyone here to steal anything. Except, of course, me.

  I checked my pocket. I had some money in there. I wouldn’t take anything I couldn’t pay for. But plucking up the courage to expose myself to Aquila’s cameras was taking much longer to find than a few dollars.

  The lights in the hub started to dim. Jeez, I’d been in here all day then.

  “OK, Ratbag,” I said. “We’re going to wait a little longer. Just until it’s all nice and dark out there.”

  Not that the ship ever got totally dark outside of quarters. But the hub lighting would resemble evening on a city street; there’d be shadows. Hopefully, there’d be enough.

  What we were going to do once we’d purchased some food was another thing. We couldn’t stay in here. Ratbag had been gun-shy about peeing on the gel floor of the tunnel I’d chosen for our toilet stop. A tunnel I hoped I’d never have to go through again. But once I’d done my business and the gel floor of the tunnel had simply wicked the moisture away, Ratbag found his own courage and peed like a trooper.

  I wasn’t looking forward to number twos.

  But I also knew, staying in the tunnels was not the safest option either. At one junction, I’d seen an armoured guard flash a light through the tunnel hatch, trying to see what was inside. We’d backtracked as quickly and quietly as we could then. Thankfully, his rifle’s light hadn’t penetrated far enough into the gloom to see us.

  I knew, though, that my father had them searching.

  Which begged the question, why hadn’t Aquila ratted me out yet?

  I glanced out the hatch again. Darkness, or what represented darkness onboard ship, had descended. And the central hub was finally painted in shadows.

  “All right, boy,” I said. “You stay here. Mummy’s going to get us some dinner.”

  My lips were dry. My throat parched. I knew I was dehydrated. I dreaded to think what Ratbag felt like. He whimpered slightly when I placed him behind me and gave him the sign to stay put. But he did what he was told to do and sat quietly.

  I looked at the hatch again. I hadn’t tried to get out of one of the conduit tunnels before now. And getting into them in the first place had been kind of freaky. So, I stared at the hatch for quite a while.

  Then with screwdriver in hand, I reached forward and watched as the gel wall disintegrated, and a ladder appeared.

  This hatch was higher off the ground. I’d thought it was less likely to be searched by my father’s men. But I hadn’t considered getting down from here. Or getting back up afterwards.

  “Huh,” I whispered, staring at the ladder. “That's handy.”

  I spun my body around and exited the tunnel backwards, glancing over my shoulder from time to time. But nothing moved in the shadows, and I coul
dn’t hear the heavy steps of the guards. I made it to the bottom, sweating, heart racing, but alive.

  I glanced back up at the hatch opening. It hadn’t closed. And I hadn’t even tried to wave my screwdriver at it; it was back in my pocket. I shook my head and took a step away.

  The hatch and ladder disappeared back into the gel wall.

  “Ratbag!” I whispered. A small yip responded from deeper in the tunnel. I stepped back up to the wall, and the ladder and opening reappeared.

  I stepped away again. They vanished.

  Step close. Reappeared.

  Step back. Vanished.

  “Huh,” I said again and then spun on my heel and slipped into the shadows.

  I crept along the outer edge of the central hub until I came to the first restaurant. It wasn’t my favourite but damned if I was going to be fussy about it. It was open, and it still had food out, so that was enough. I slipped inside and ran across to the counter.

  The food there had already spoiled. I looked at the door to the kitchen. Then glanced over my shoulder again. The hub looked quiet. But going further into the restaurant would make it harder to hear if someone was coming. I bit my lip and stared down at the food again.

  Getting food poisoning right now would suck.

  I slipped over the counter and pushed through to the kitchen.

  It was dark, and I didn’t have a torch, so I had to feel my way around. I didn’t want to switch a light on, but when I found the refrigerator and opened the door, the light came on automatically inside. I quickly pulled it to, but not shut, behind me, and scanned the contents.

  Sixty seconds later I’d grabbed ham, cheese, apples, grapes and two bottles of water. I slipped out of the fridge and placed my stash on the preparation bench. Then went to close the fridge door behind me. Before it fully shut, I spotted a filleting knife off to the side. It was long and sharp and could do some serious damage.