Zenith Point (The Sector Fleet, Book 4)

by Nicola Claire

  And now it was almost an immobilising thing.

  There was no reasoning it out; no justifying what had happened here. If I didn’t understand my father back on Earth, then his actions now were a mystery to me.

  But this was happening. The ship had been taken over by my father. The leaseholder. And his armoured goons.

  I couldn’t risk being recognised. So, I reached up to grab a hunk of my long, blonde hair and then sliced it off with the filleting knife. I tried to attack it in some measured way, but in the end, I was simply hacking at it. Taking my frustrations and fears out on the only thing my father had ever liked about me.

  Hair just like my mother’s.

  I hacked it all off. I didn’t have a mirror, but maybe that was for the best. I reached up and ran my fingers through strands so unfamiliar I thought briefly that it wasn’t my head at all. But someone else’s.

  Ratbag sat up and cocked his head at me, ears perked.

  “It’s just me, baby,” I said, letting him lick my hand.

  He seemed satisfied as he headed over to his bowl of snacks and started eating.

  I stood up. Looked down at my civilian clothing. There was nothing top tier about them. And now they were crinkled and dirty, my father’s men would have no hope of recognising me.

  I smiled. Scratched Ratbag under the chin and then headed back to the tunnel.

  It was faster going down with the artificial gravity on the ship than it had been climbing up the ladder. And without Ratbag and the apron sling, I made quick work of the tunnels. Crawling toward the hatch that led to the Habitat Two central hub.

  I could see the place was subdued, but people were still there. Grabbing what they needed and hurrying off to their quarters for safety and comfort. The familiar was all we really ever had.

  Mandy’s stall didn’t have any customers. I thought perhaps digital flowers would be the last thing on anyone’s mind. But when I saw the armoured guard appear from behind the stall, I knew the real reason why.

  “Where is she?” he demanded. “Your cooperation will be rewarded.”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “Adriana Price,” the guard snapped. “She’s visited your stall previously. Don’t lie.”

  “Oh, Adi,” Mandy said, quickly backtracking. “Haven’t seen her since yesterday. And if she’s got any sense, she’ll keep out of sight.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because she stole something from me and I’m likely to hit her as soon as I see her.” Mandy shrugged.

  It was all a lie. My friend was trying to throw the guards off my scent. Send them away, so it would be safe if I ever did come by.

  My chest hurt. It was difficult to swallow.

  And then the guard lifted his plasma gun and aimed it at her head.

  “Where is she?” he said in a cold mechanical voice.

  Mandy slowly rose her shaking hands and whispered, “I don’t know.”

  “The woman is telling the truth,” Aquila suddenly announced.

  I pulled back from the hatch, for fear it would open, and tried not to make a sound.

  Mandy looked all around her with wild eyes.

  “She shows none of the chemical markers,” Aquila added, “that would indicate she is lying.”

  The guard kept his plasma gun levelled at her head.

  “I’m telling the truth!” Mandy cried.

  “I believe you,” the guard said and then shifted his plasma rifle and fired at the stall instead.

  My friend's shop went up in a blaze of plasma and melted plastics, sending hot sparks and licking flames into the crowd. Mandy dropped to the floor, covering her head and screaming obscenities. People scattered and then turned back to watch, as if unable to look away from such an injustice.

  The macabre was always so hypnotising.

  It was over in minutes.

  The guard, satisfied that the message had been received, turned on his heel and marched toward the lifts without another word. No one moved. No one said a thing. Until the lift doors closed behind him.

  And then they stepped forward as one and picked my friend up off the ground, closing in around her. I lost sight of her, but the flames and sparks of the burning stall were still front and centre in my mind.

  I couldn’t go to Mandy now. I couldn’t go to anyone, really.

  Not if knowing me caused this type of destruction.

  I moved back from the hatch and leaned against the wall, and let the tears fall silently.

  I had to do something. I had to fight back. This was wrong. So wrong.

  I had to stop my father.

  Twelve

  Damn

  Hugo

  The hunger pangs had stopped some time ago. I couldn’t even rouse myself to sip water. I knew that was a bad sign.

  “You should drink something, sir,” López murmured dully from her cell.

  “I will,” I whispered. “In a minute. Has Wilson woken up yet?”

  López looked toward the other side of her cell and called out to the lieutenant in it. It took a few seconds, but eventually, the whispered reply came back.

  “No,” López said quietly.

  I thumped my head back against the gel wall. This was all my fault. If I’d not suggested trying to disarm the guards, we would have eaten by now, and Wilson wouldn’t be fighting for his life on the floor of a brig cell.

  I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the headache that was growing worse by the hour.

  “They’ll have to feed us again soon, won’t they, sir?” Johnson asked.

  I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to captain anymore. I suppressed a sigh and said, “If they didn’t kill us on the bridge, then they don’t intend to kill us now.”

  We were alive because they needed us. But for what? To fly the vessel? Aquila could do that.

  I opened my eyes, staring at nothing for a moment, and then narrowed them. Across the corridor, between two containment field cells, was a gap. There was nothing there that could explain why the gap existed. Most of the cells were butted up against each other. One containment wall between them. But Johnson’s cell across the corridor was separated from Armstrong’s cell but about a metre.

  And where the blank gel wall stood, a hole was appearing.

  And a face peered out of it.

  Our eyes connected. The face jerked back. The gel wall resealed itself.

  I scrubbed the sides of my head and blinked my eyes wide.

  “I’m hallucinating, Commander,” I told López.

  “I started hallucinating donuts two hours ago, sir,” she replied.

  “I saw a face,” I offered.

  “What was the face doing?”

  “Looking at me through the wall.”

  “Yep,” she said. “You’re hallucinating. I would have thought you’d go for steak myself. But everyone’s different.”

  I pushed up from the gel floor, swaying slightly. How long had it been since the guard left the trolley there? Longer than I had thought. I staggered a little, aware López was clambering to her feet as well. I’d made the right choice in selecting her as first officer, I thought dully.

  I took a step toward the front of my cell and said, “Hello?”

  “Hello,” Johnson replied.

  “Not you,” I said, waving a hand. “The wall.”

  “The captain’s hallucinating,” López helpfully supplied.

  “I hallucinated steak earlier,” Johnson offered.

  “See?” López said to me. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “I hallucinated cake,” Armstrong announced.

  “What type of cake?” Johnson asked.

  “Carrot.”

  “Don’t like carrot. I like chocolate. Or red velvet.”

  “How many cakes do you know about, Johnson?”

  “A few. My cousin was a baker back on Earth.”

  That thankfully shut them all up.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “
You in the wall. Come out!”

  “Ah, sir?” López said. “It’s a gel wall. Those things can be four foot thick in parts. If the face is real, it won’t be able to hear you.”

  “Good point. Johnson,” I said, “tap out SOS in Morse.”

  “Morse?”

  “You do know Morse code, right? Every officer is meant to know Morse code.”

  “I might have fallen asleep during that lesson, sir,” he mumbled in reply.

  Several officers started demonstrating SOS in Morse code against their gel wall.

  “I hope the face paid attention in class,” López said.

  “Synchronise, crewmen!” I ordered. “You sound like a herd of elephants not trapped survivors.”

  “On the count of three,” Armstrong offered and dutifully counted down.

  The SOS went out in perfect synchrony as López said, “It's a beautiful thing, ain’t it, sir?”

  I snorted. Her grin back at me was wide.

  The gel wall opened, and a frowning face peered out.

  “See!” I said. “The face.”

  “Hot damn,” López announced. “It’s not a steak.”

  The face blinked at us. And then the eyes widened.

  “You’re the Anderson Universal crew, aren’t you?” it said. She said. It was a girl’s voice.

  I cocked my head to the side and took in her raggedly cut hair. She kind of looked like a street urchin.

  “Are you a stowaway by any chance?” I asked.

  No one onboard this ship would look as bedraggled as this girl did.

  She glanced up and down the brig, taking in all the cells, and then slipped out of the hole. The gel wall closed behind her.

  “Nifty trick,” López said quietly.

  “Indeed,” I murmured.

  “What are you all doing in here?” the girl asked, ignoring my question, I noted. “This…” she said. “This is the brig, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t know which wall you just climbed through?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have a map,” she offered. “And the green glow doesn’t lead here.”

  OK. The stowaway was crazy. Great.

  “Can you get us out?” I asked.

  She studied the containment field and then stepped up to it. And then sort of did a wiggle type thing.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Seeing if it opens.”

  “It’s not going to open to a lap dance.”

  Several suppressed snorts sounded out.

  The girl scowled at me.

  “The gel walls do,” she snapped.

  “You sure it's not the wrist comm you stole?” I asked.

  She stared down at her wrist for a moment. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

  “Son of a bitch,” she muttered. “He changed the settings.”

  “Who did?” I asked.

  She looked up at me and then pushed her wrist comm up as close as she could to the cell containment field. The field didn’t drop. But the access panel opened.

  My mind whirred into sluggish action.

  “Food,” I said. “We need food. They haven’t fed us since…How long’s it been?” I asked. “How long since Aquila went rogue?”

  “Rogue?”

  “The AI,” I said. “It’s rogue. The leaseholder’s done something.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking away and biting her lip. “Um, just over two days now. Coming up on three.”

  No wonder I was swaying.

  “They left a trolley,” I said, nodding towards the abandoned food cart. “The food should still be OK; it’s refrigerated.”

  “You want me to serve you?” the girl asked.

  There was something strange about the question. In my brain starved state, I couldn’t work it out.

  “We’re starving,” I said. “Please. We need your help.”

  She looked directly at my eyes, almost into them. I noticed, despite her ragged appearance, she was really quite pretty. Her blue eyes seemed as deep and clear as Great Bear Lake back home.

  “OK,” she said and turned to the trolley.

  “What’s your name?” I called after her.

  “Adi,” she said, starting to hand out trays of food to the closest cells.

  “Thank you, Adi,” I offered.

  She looked over at my cell and smiled. It was a small smile, and it seemed infinitely sad for some reason.

  “You’re welcome…?” Her reply, though, was definitely a question.

  “Hugo,” I said. “Hugo Tremblay.”

  “Captain Tremblay,” López added.

  The girl hesitated, then quickly handed the tray she was holding to Johnson. She turned back and looked at me, shock and horror obvious on her face.

  “Captain Moore?” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “The captain and first officer were the first to be killed by Price’s mercs.”

  I wasn’t sure what I saw then on her face, but it pained me to bear witness. With a sob, she thrust the last tray into my cell and then dashed back across the brig, throwing herself into the opening even as it was still expanding before her.

  “She’s done that before,” Johnson said.

  “Yeah,” I offered, confused and a little wary.

  “Damn,” López muttered. “I’d hoped she’d stick around to put the trays back.”

  I closed my eyes and sank to the floor. Damn was right. If the guards came back before our little stowaway, they’d know we had a man on the inside.

  The thought didn’t stop me from eating.

  Thirteen

  I Wasn’t Sure What To Make Of That

  Adi

  “Ratbag,” I said, stumbling into the computer core pit. “Ratbag,” I repeated on a sob, scooping up my furry friend. “Oh God, Ratbag, it’s bad.”

  He licked my cheeks as tears streamed down them.

  “They’re alive,” I said. “At least some of them are. But they’re in the brig. Ratbag, he killed the captain and first officer. And he hasn’t been feeding them. They looked so gaunt and pale. The…the man I spoke to, he was swaying. Oh God,” I said with a whimper. “Oh God.”

  I didn’t know what to do. I kept shaking my head. Staring at nothing. The tears dribbling off the edge of my chin. Ratbag’s little tongue licked at my face as if he could lick away the mess we were in.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said aloud.

  I had to do something. But I had no idea what to do.

  I sat there for so long, Ratbag got bored and jumped out of my arms. Then started sniffing around the food synthesiser as if he could smell the food.

  “The food,” I said, getting up and automatically pressing in the order for Ratbag’s favourite. I crouched down next to him and watched him eat. “It was sitting right there,” I said. “The guards must have brought it in to taunt them with it. But they’ll go back. Won’t they? Either to see if their prisoners are dead or taunt them some more. And if they go back…”

  I stood up.

  “Shit,” I said, starting to climb out of the pit. “Hold on,” I added and ran back to the synthesiser.

  I pressed in an order for twelve ready meals. There were twelve officers in that brig; the rest of the AU crew had to be confined to quarters. I shoved the ready meals in the apron and attached it to my belt. Then made sure the filleting knife was secure.

  “Back in a jiffy,” I said to Ratbag and ran flat out to the wall I used to get in and out of the computer core section.

  I was getting good at making my way through the tunnels. I’d mapped a lot of them now. I didn’t have anything to draw it on as I wasn’t prepared to risk switching the datapad on. Which made for boring nights. No books. But I had a very good memory and could remember complicated equations and diagrams in my head.

  I’d got that from my father. Perhaps the only decent thing I ever received from my dad.

  I made it back to the brig hatch in record time and then tapped out a signal to
see if it was all clear. It took a second or two, but a reply came back. Whoever was using Morse was pretty bad at it, because I could have sworn it said, “We’re fish” instead of “We’re good.”

  I swiped my wrist comm at the hatch and peered out.

  “You’re back,” the guy I’d spoken to said. The one they called Captain Tremblay.

  I stared at him and nodded my head.

  The corner of his lips tipped up at the side.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Um,” I said, climbing out of the tunnel. “The trays. I should put them back before they notice them missing.”

  “Do you really think the brig’s not being watched?” he said.

  “Have they been in here since I left?” I asked.

  “No.” He seemed puzzled by that.

  “I’ve noticed,” I said as I opened access panels on their containment field and accepted the empty trays, “that not all areas are working as they should be. Whatever they did to Aquila wasn’t perfect.”

  “You can say that again,” the woman in the cell next to the…captain said.

  “What else have you noticed?” Captain Tremblay asked, ignoring the female officer.

  “Well,” I said, sliding trays into their sealed slots on the trolley, “I haven’t seen any AU crew members at all. And the leaseholder’s security team are everywhere in armour.”

  “They’re mercs,” he said. “Hired guns. Not a security team.”

  “Oh,” I said, worried I’d given myself away, but he didn’t say anything else. “Well,” I added, accepting the last tray and placing it in its slot, “the civilians are on a curfew. 1800 in their quarters, anyone seen outside after that is, well, roughed up.”

  “Roughed up?”

  “They destroyed one of the stalls in the Habitat Two central hub.” I couldn’t look at anyone when I said that. “And they shot a civilian when he refused to be confined to quarters.”

  “Jesus,” the captain muttered. “How many are there? Are there more than we were told?”

  “What were you told?” I asked.

  “A twenty-strong security force.”

  I stared at him. “Wouldn’t you know if more had got on the ship?”