Zenith Point (The Sector Fleet, Book 4)

by Nicola Claire

  “They could have been hidden amongst the paid passengers.”

  I nodded my head, astounded again at my father’s duplicity.

  “So, there’s only twenty of them?” he asked.

  “Um, no,” I said. “There’s fifty that I know of.”

  “Fifty?” the woman officer said, sounding stunned.

  “You’ve counted fifty?” the captain asked.

  “Yeah,” I said quickly. “That’s what I said.” I hadn’t counted fifty. I just knew my father had fifty in his security force. Whether he had more or not now, I wasn’t sure. The potential for such was unfortunately there, I had to admit.

  There were a lot of paid passengers beholden to my father.

  “Um, here,” I said, starting to dish out the ready meals. “You’ve got water, right?”

  “Yes,” the captain said, accepting the meal from me.

  “I’ll try to get back again tomorrow,” I offered. “I’ll knock first. Ah, maybe use a different code when you answer.”

  “What code did we use?” the captain asked.

  I blinked at him. “Fish. It was something about fish.”

  “I did not!” an officer said in the cell opposite the captain.

  “Yeah, sure, Johnson,” another said. “You were sleeping, remember?”

  I dusted my hands down my trousers when all the meals were delivered. I could do this. I could help them eat enough to survive.

  “What’s that on your belt?” the captain asked.

  “What?” I said, covering the filleting knife with both hands.

  “The knife.”

  “Protection.”

  “Can you get more?”

  “Not easily,” I admitted, my hands slowly coming away from the knife.

  The captain stepped forward, closer to the cell containment field.

  “Adi,” he said. “We’re in dire straights here. The ship is under the command of a madman.”

  I winced and then tried to cover it up with a cough and a hand to my mouth.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask,” Captain Tremblay said. “But you seem to be able to get to places others can’t. And I’ll be frank; yours is the first friendly face we’ve seen since this whole disastrous event started.”

  “I want to help you,” I said, stepping closer to his cell. “I really do. But you don’t understand.”

  “I do,” he said, stepping closer still. There was just a thin containment field between us now. “I do, I promise you,” he said. “But sometimes we have to find it in ourselves to dig deep. When injustices are being done, and no one else is willing to stand up to them, then sometimes we have to be the one that says enough. No more. And do that dangerous thing.”

  “There’s no one else,” I whispered.

  “No, Adi. But if you help us to get out of here, we’ll put things right. I promise you,” he said. “We’ll find the leaseholder and make him pay for those deaths. For that stall. For that civilian that stood up to his men.”

  I could barely breathe. I couldn’t move an inch. I stood no more than a foot away from a man who had just promised to hurt my dad.

  I stood there and thought, where were you when my mother died?

  Where were you when he kicked Ratbag?

  “OK,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.

  “Good girl,” he replied with a smile that transformed him.

  I scowled. “How old are you, anyway?” I demanded.

  The woman in the next cell snorted. Someone else whistled.

  “Old enough,” he said.

  “And I’m not a little girl, either,” I snapped.

  He raised his hands in surrender and shook his head, lips spread wide.

  “I didn’t say that. You’re not a little girl. Not at all,” he said, trying not to laugh.

  I rolled my eyes at him and swiped my wrist comm at the field to his cell. The access panel opened. “Here,” I said, thrusting the fillet knife into his cell. “Have this, Old Man.”

  The woman next door was about to roll around on the floor; she was laughing so much. The male officers nearby weren’t much better.

  The captain reached up and took the knife and then in a move too quick for me to track, he wrapped his free hand around my wrist.

  His thumb stroked over my wrist comm.

  “Where did you get this?” he whispered.

  I tugged on my hand, but he didn’t release me. I was very much aware he held a knife now. I'd given the man who trapped me a freaking weapon.

  I stared up at him, keeping my face bland. Unafraid. I’d had practice at it, and I knew it worked.

  He studied me and then slowly let go of my wrist.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I said and spun on my heel, walking as steadily as I could toward the gel wall.

  The hatch opened. I glanced back.

  Captain Tremblay hadn’t moved an inch and was still watching me.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  Fourteen

  Good Question

  Hugo

  There was something about this girl that wasn’t quite right. But I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “This could work,” López said.

  I just frowned. What was it that left me so uneasy? She was petite and dishevelled. That could have been it. Maybe she released some long dormant caveman instinct inside me to protect her. Who knew. But I was drawn to her. Even as I was conversely wary of her for some reason.

  “If she can arm us all, then we could mount a larger attack,” López offered.

  “From inside our cells?” I asked, still puzzling over the little stowaway.

  She couldn’t really be a stowaway. Aquila would have known he’d had an additional bio sign onboard at liftoff. Which also begged the question, why hadn’t the guards come to investigate when she’d appeared here?

  “Grab their arm as they deliver the tray through the hole,” López said. “And then cut the guard’s wrist comm off to use to deactivate the containment field.”

  “That could work,” I offered.

  The girl could get through hatches that were intended to be invisible. Those types of hatches were for senior engineers only. Maybe the wrist comm she’d stolen was the chief’s. I pushed the image of the chief dead in engineering from my mind. She also had access to a food synthesiser. I glanced down at the ready meal in my hand. This particular ready meal was full of protein and stimulants. Designed for crew level emergencies.

  Another tick in the box for her having stolen that wrist comm off a crew member. But wouldn’t Aquila be able to trace it?

  “If we’re lucky,” López said, “they’ll serve more than one person at a time, and we could get two wrist comms. Time it right, and they won’t know what hit ‘em.”

  “Good plan,” I said. “But first she has to get us the knives.”

  “You don’t think she’ll manage it? She seemed quite capable to me.”

  “She’s barely out of her teens,” I advised. “Probably still in them.”

  “Did you look at her? I mean really look at her?” López asked. “She’s been wearing those clothes for days. And the knife? She handled it with confidence. She’s used that knife. Or practised with it. Whatever she’s been through, even if just in the time since Aquila went rogue, it’s toughened her up. That’s no little girl, Captain.”

  Was I being told off by my first officer? This was new. Both the first officer and the talking down to.

  I grinned at López.

  “You’re getting good at this first officer thing,” I said. “Commander Lawrence used to counter the captain, too.”

  My smile fell on those last words.

  “Damn it,” I muttered and turned away.

  López didn’t say anything for a while. I took the time to hide the ready meal in the sink, out of sight of a guard’s observant eyes. I noticed some of the officers nearest me following my lead.

  I decided some PT was in order, so got down and started on push-
ups. Johnson and Armstrong immediately joined me. López sat in the centre of her cell and stared off into space.

  I finished my set and turned to face her.

  “Are you going to join us?” I asked her. “Sit-ups. Your favourite.”

  She offered me a roll of her eyes and took up position.

  “I don’t like thinking about it,” she said as we got to work. She was talking about what happened on the bridge.

  “Sometimes it’s better to talk about these things,” I offered.

  “What’s there to talk about?” López said. “They’re dead.”

  “And we knew them well. And we watched them get killed. And there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it,” I told her.

  The commander stopped her set early and let out a harsh breath.

  “He was good to me,” she said. “The captain. He…he took an interest in my career. A mentor maybe. I don’t know. But I felt I knew him better than I knew anyone else onboard the ship. I…I miss him. I’m going to miss his quiet words to me every morning.”

  I hadn’t noticed the captain doing that. But that was the captain. He was discreet and professional. If he took an interest in López, personally or professionally, he would have made sure to do it quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “He was a good man.”

  “He was,” López said and then added, “I’m done.” She pushed up and went to the sink, running the water and splashing her face, her back to us.

  Anyone at the sink or toilet in their cell deserved privacy. I turned away and looked across the brig. My eyes caught Johnson’s. He and Armstrong had heard every word. He nodded his head to me and finished his set. And then he too went to his sink.

  I finished up my routine and just sat there. I felt better, having some food in me, but I wasn’t at peak performance yet. I got up and had a drink. Freshened up and then made the ready meal. God knows how soon they’d feed us next, but I needed the calories now. At any moment, I might have to use them.

  The girl would come back with some weapons. And then what? We overpower the guards and get out? But where would we go? Follow her into the tubes, I supposed. She had to be hiding somewhere with a synthesiser. Or maybe she simply ducked out at night and stole food.

  She was a problem, but also possibly our saviour. I had no idea how to classify such a person.

  I sighed, just as the brig door opened.

  In seconds, everyone was on their feet. Ready and waiting. I thought perhaps it was too telling. The starved prisoners able to come to attention so quickly. But the guards, six of them this time, who entered, basically ignored us. I waved a few officers down to the floor, giving them an example of what I wanted.

  We’re no trouble. We’re exhausted and starved. No problem here.

  The odd officer followed my lead, while some I indicated should remain standing.

  One guard pushed the food cart that had been in the brig already out of the door and then returned. Another had a new cart, and two guards started delivering the food to us, one on one side of the brig, the other going down the cells on the other.

  Maybe this would be their routine from now on.

  No one said a thing. We watched them warily. They barely looked at us.

  Good. I checked that the knife was hidden behind me and waited for the guard on my side of the brig to arrive. I pretended I couldn’t stand, forcing him to push the tray in through the containment field near the bottom. It slid along the gel floor, and the access panel closed again.

  By the time we’d all been served, even Lieutenant Commander Wilson who, I was relieved to see, was opening his eyes and staring blearily at the officer in the cell next to him, nothing untoward had happened. From either side of the containment fields.

  The guards left the empty food cart, checked the containment field settings, and then stomped out of the brig.

  We all sat still as if they were listening through the door.

  And then I pushed up and went to check the tray.

  “High calorie,” I said to the brig at large. “Ideal food for someone who’s been starved. They don’t want us dead.”

  “Why not?” Munro said from down her end of the brig.

  “Good question,” I replied. “Once I find out, I’ll tell you.”

  Munro snorted, checking her own tray. Other’s did too.

  “This looks enough for an entire day,” López offered.

  “So,” I said, “we can assume meals are going to be regulated. Same time every day.”

  “But what is the time?” Johnson asked.

  “You want to start counting the seconds off in your head?” I asked, and covered my tray. I was full for now. I’d spread it out. By this time tomorrow, though, I planned for us all to be fighting fit and hopefully fully armed.

  “Is that an order, sir?” Johnson asked warily.

  López snorted.

  “All right,” I said, ignoring Johnson. “Instructions will be coming down the line. Keep your voices low. I don’t think Aquila is monitoring us in here, but best to be careful anyway. Nova, you have the watch.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Munro said. “We have the watch.”

  I moved to the cell beside me and issued the whispered orders. By the time everyone had received them, Lieutenant Commander Wilson was eating selectively off his food tray and sitting up.

  He looked like shit. But he was alive. If I could keep them all that way tomorrow, I’d be impressed.

  Something told me, though, that was a tall order.

  A hell of a lot rested on the mystery girl.

  Fifteen

  Swing Hard And Aim Low

  Adi

  There were armoured guards in all of the habitats. It was annoying, but not unexpected. What was unexpected, though, was that although the guards had left the habitats last night, all of the restaurants and stalls had been locked up behind them. As well as all of the sharp knives. I’d used hatches to get inside the kitchens, but there was nothing I could do with the lockboxes I’d uncovered. I hadn’t been able to gain access to even one. And therefore I’d been unable to hold up my end of the bargain with Captain Tremblay.

  It was 1700 hours now. So, I had one hour left before the shops would close and the passengers would have to be in their quarters. Some might have knives in them, but the only passenger I knew well enough to surprise was Mandy. And that would mean only one knife, even if she had a suitable one to give me.

  I nibbled on a thumbnail and watched the guards from the safety of my hiding hole behind a hatch. This was the first time all day that their numbers had decreased to an acceptable level. I wasn’t sure why, but I had to take advantage of it.

  Habitat One, I’d already decided, was out, because I really would have stood out wearing what I was wearing now. Plus, I couldn’t help thinking my father would expect me to go there. I was a top-tier, and he’d believe I’d only associate with top-tiers.

  No, Habitat One was too risky. And even though I might’ve been able to get something from Habitat Two, I’d decided to start with Habitat Three and the pay-for-passage passengers. If anyone were going to support a resistance type movement, it would be the pay-for-passages who already thought their lot in life was unequal to those tiers above them.

  I let out a breath of air and then lifted my wrist comm toward the hatch, making it disappear. Slipping out, I checked both ways to be sure the coast was still clear, and then stepped away from the hatch and watched the gel wall reform behind me.

  I felt entirely too exposed. Most of the people moving through the central hub had their heads down and worried looks on their faces. At least that was something. I ducked my head and merged in with the crowd, which had the usual rush hour traffic swell to it. There was a level of unease that wove its way through the people around me, though. Touching on each one as if some grim reaper marking their next victim with a dark mark.

  I suppressed a shudder and approached the first stall. It was a food stall, servin
g burritos. The man behind the counter used a spoon to spread the ingredients, but I was sure he’d have to have a knife to chop up something. I couldn’t see it, so I hesitated. Standing there for too long while the person behind me shifted uneasily on their feet.

  A guard, scanning the courtyard, looked toward me. He might have been just taking a look at each person as part of his monitoring routine, but it was enough to spook me.

  “Um, changed my mind,” I said and moved off.

  The guard looked at someone else.

  Stalls were too exposed, I decided, and so entered a restaurant as far away from the guards as I could manage. This one was a steakhouse. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness within, I noted the number of patrons. There were more empty seats than full. My guess, everyone felt safer in their quarters right now. I didn’t blame them; this was the last place I wanted to be.

  A server approached and handed me a menu.

  “Take out?” he asked as if he expected that answer.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “We don’t have any steak knives.”

  “Oh, we can loan them to you if you put down a deposit,” he said easily. I had the impression that business was poor and they needed to secure any sale in any way possible.

  I checked behind me. No one had walked in. The guard I could see was across the courtyard. The other was out of sight, but I assumed he’d had no reason to move from his position. He hadn’t in the past hour as I’d watched from my hidey.

  “I really need a different kind of purchase,” I said in a low voice to the server. “Is there any chance you’d be open to that?”

  “What kind of purchase?” the guy asked warily.

  His eyes scanned my clothing and then settled on my hacked up hair. He didn’t look entirely pleased with what he saw. Not much I could do about that.

  I leaned forward. He carefully leaned back. This wasn’t going well.

  I felt nervous enough as it was, but the waiter’s reaction set me on edge. My hands began to shake, and I was sure I was sweating.