Zenith Point (The Sector Fleet, Book 4)

by Nicola Claire

  “Do you need a moment to refresh yourself?” he asked, once he’d turned back to me.

  I needed to pee. I nodded, my cheeks heating.

  “Johnson will be back soon. You can go then,” he said.

  Johnson returned a moment later and sank down beside Armstrong who was using a wipe to wash his face. I grabbed some wipes from the synthesiser for myself and then snapped my fingers for Ratbag to follow me. I was surprised the captain let me wander off alone. But also terribly relieved. We both did our business. I cleaned up as much as I could, lifting the edge of my shirt to sniff at it. It wasn’t nice, but we were all in the same boat. And some of the officers had blood on their clothing.

  I walked back to the pit to find the captain, Johnson and Armstrong in discussion. López was awake, drinking coffee. I made quick work of food and water for Ratbag. Going through motions that were normal in a situation that was anything but.

  “Nova has the watch,” Tremblay said.

  “We have the watch,” the commander replied wearily.

  Tremblay hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but he just nodded his head, looked at me to make sure I was ready, and then turned towards where the hatch was located.

  “Ratbag, stay,” I said and followed behind them like I was the puppy.

  “There’s a chance that Price will send men into the tubes after us,” Tremblay said at the hatch.

  I couldn’t tell him one way or the other. I had no way to know if Aquila had altered my father’s wrist comm as well. I hoped the Aquila I knew hadn’t. But I didn’t know this Aquila. It stood to reason that he’d have the same ability as my Aquila. Although we’d established his internal scans were down. Hopefully, other parts of him were also.

  “Let’s do this,” Tremblay said. “Deck D, crew quarters, Ms Price.”

  I was Ms Price again. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. But I did know it didn’t make me happy.

  I stepped forward and opened the hatch. Johnson peered inside, his rifle’s muzzle leading the way.

  “Clear,” he said.

  Armstrong jumped in. Johnson followed. Tremblay indicated I should go next. I climbed up; the hatch was a few feet off the floor. My foot slipped, and I slammed back down into the gel edging. It didn’t move to accommodate me. Aquila would have done that in the past.

  I missed my friend. I missed how things were. They hadn’t been perfect, but they were enough. I’d had freedom. I’d had Mandy and her stall. I’d had Aquila and Ratbag. I missed it all.

  And now I was surrounded by Anderson Universal officers who didn’t trust me and didn’t like me and were angry at my father. I let out a little sob. I wasn’t crying. Not really. But it was too much, and I wanted it all to stop, and it wasn’t going to stop unless we did something to my father to make him stop. And I didn’t know if I could handle what would be required to do that.

  A hand came down on my back and just stayed there. Warm. Solid. Reassuring.

  I sucked in a breath of air and then another and then righted myself, pushing up and into the tube. Tremblay followed.

  It was a moment that probably meant nothing to him, but it meant the world to me.

  We’d made it all the way down to Deck D when the ship-wide channel chimed. We were a short distance from the glowing green ladder and the sound of the comms system activating made us all pause mid-stride. It used to chime constantly, but since Aquila went rogue, it had been ominously silent unless delivering orders. I dreaded to think what would come next.

  “Any civilian aiding and abetting the criminals led by Hugo Tremblay,” the AI said, “will be punished.”

  I turned and looked at the captain. He looked a little startled.

  “Doc,” he muttered. Johnson swore softly.

  “Any civilian offering information as to their whereabouts or the whereabouts of Adriana Price,” Aquila added, “will be rewarded.”

  Tremblay’s eyes met mine. My father knew who I was with, then. There was no going back now. Not that I had ever considered it. But it felt final. It felt like something had been cut off. My home, I supposed. Or what had stood for it.

  “See?” I said. “I’m one of you now.”

  Captain Tremblay gave me a look that spoke volumes.

  “It doesn’t work that way, Adi,” he said.

  He still didn’t trust me. Didn’t trust that I was here of my own volition. He still thought my father was playing him. I wasn’t sure what I could do to convince him.

  But I knew I had to do something. Things couldn’t go on as they stood.

  Twenty-Four

  No One Said A Thing

  Hugo

  What was I doing? Wanting to comfort the girl when she was obviously upset. She couldn’t be trusted. And even if she could, she was the civilian daughter of the leaseholder who had started a coup.

  A successful coup, I might add. What had we accomplished so far? Escape from the brig, which he may or may not have allowed to happen to get his mole into our number. And a raid on the medbay which failed to produce the doctor in the end.

  Damn doctor.

  And here I was watching the woman before me and hoping I was wrong about all of this. Hoping she was innocent. How could she be innocent? She’d lived with the man. Surely she’d overheard his plans at some point. How could she not have? Even the leaseholder’s quarters weren’t that big. Bigger than anyone else’s, but not big enough to avoid each other.

  She must have known he was up to something. She must have. I couldn’t trust her and to hell with the part of me that wanted her innocence.

  We came to a stop before a hatch that led onto the main corridor of the junior officers’ quarters. I peered through the grille as Adi stayed back, so as not to activate the gel hatch. The way was clear. The doors of all the quarters closed. It was clearly a trap, but I couldn’t see the trigger.

  I pulled back and met Johnson and Armstrong’s eyes.

  “Trap?” Armstrong asked.

  “Undoubtedly,” I said. “And we don’t know if Adi’s wrist comm will open the doors to those rooms.”

  “It’s opened everything else,” Johnson argued.

  “Hatches to emergency tubes and the medbay cupboards,” I offered. “All areas she would need to stay hidden and keep healthy.”

  “What about the brig?”

  I couldn’t think of an explanation for that. Why had Aquila given her access to the brig if not on the instructions of her father?

  I studied the woman now. She knew exactly what I was thinking. She wouldn’t meet my eyes, but her fists were clenched, and her teeth were grinding. She was sick of the judgement too.

  So was I. But I couldn’t trust her. It would be remiss of me to trust her. She had to know that.

  I sighed.

  “Let’s try a hatch into someone’s quarters,” I suggested. “If it works, it works. If it doesn’t well…” We’d know what exactly? That her father didn’t want her getting to the rest of our crew? Or that Aquila hadn’t thought she would need them or could trust them?

  I scratched at my jaw and then nodded back down the tube.

  Adi led the way. I made sure I was right behind her. I didn’t want Johnson ogling her ass. The fact that I might have snuck a look every now and then was neither here nor there. I didn’t pass comment, and I thought perhaps Johnson would later. I protected Adi’s innocence the only way I knew how right then.

  And there I went again, thinking she was innocent. When all evidence pointed to the contrary.

  And then her wrist comm opened a hatch into an officer’s quarters.

  Huh. Now, what did that mean?

  Armstrong slipped through first this time. The officer in question was a midshipman from security. She let out a little scream when she spotted the lieutenant. He looked just as shocked.

  “Sir!” she said, surprise and accusation all rolled into one.

  I realised why there was accusation when I slipped out behind Armstrong, whose ears had turned pink on th
e tips, and I spotted the woman half naked.

  Both Armstrong and I spun around and put our backs to her, which was a highly ineffective way of securing the area.

  “Crewman,” I said. “Please dress.”

  “Yes, sir,” she muttered behind me.

  Adi poked her head through the hatch, her eyes widening, and then she slipped through and smiled at the midshipman.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” the midshipman answered.

  “She’s dressed,” Adi offered. Armstrong and I turned around.

  “Lieutenant Commander,” the woman said, saluting me.

  “Captain now,” I offered grimly.

  “Of course,” she said. So, they’d told her, then. What else did she know?

  “What’s been going on, Midshipman?” I asked.

  “Um,” she said, eyeing Adi warily.

  “You can trust her,” I offered, and wasn’t that the most ironic thing I could have said?

  “OK. Well, we’ve been on lockdown since the attack,” the midshipman said. “They bring us out in groups of twenty to eat in the mess, so I can’t speak for everyone; it’s the same group of twenty each time. Never more than four or five from security and the rest a mix of other departments except engineering.”

  “Except engineering?” I queried. “You’ve not seen an engineer since this began?”

  “No, sir,” she said shaking her head. “Or a command officer until now.” Her cheeks turned pink.

  That was not what I wanted to hear.

  “How many mercs have you counted?” I asked.

  “There’s always more mercs than us when we eat,” she said. “So, about thirty. I can’t say if they’re the same ones each time or not. They’re in armour. And they don’t talk.”

  I nodded.

  “Grab any gear you want, then,” I said, turning to look at the now closed hatch.

  “I can’t go, sir,” the midshipman said, surprising me.

  “Why the hell not?” I demanded.

  She cringed. “Because they warned us you’d be coming.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. Armstrong powered up his pistol and aimed at the door.

  The midshipman rushed to explain. “They said if any one of us disappears, they’ll shoot another that stayed behind in retaliation.”

  I had no words.

  “They’d do it,” Adi said softly. “My father never lies.”

  The midshipman looked at Adi as if she were the enemy. I saw the security officer in her get ready to pounce. I stepped forward, between the two of them, and met the crewman’s eyes.

  “She’s helping us,” I said. At least, I thought she was. I wanted to think she was.

  The midshipman slowly nodded her head. “If you say so, sir.”

  “I do.” Now, if only I could believe it. “Is there anything else you can tell us before we leave?” I asked, hating that we would have to leave without her. “Do you have injuries amongst you? Do you need anything?”

  “No, sir. The doc tended to those who got roughed up in the attack this morning. We’re good. They feed us. They let us have videos in our quarters and haven’t stopped us exercising.”

  “What about schedules?” I said, wanting to get as much information as I could out of her.

  “About that, sir,” she said, eyeing the door to her cabin nervously.

  “Now?” I said, alarmed.

  “No wrist comm clocks. No datapads,” she said. “But I reckon it should be about now.”

  And they could have cameras. Stupid!

  “Adi,” I said, nodding towards the hatch.

  Adi stepped forward, wrist comm up, just as the door opened behind me. Fucking fantastic timing.

  Armstrong fired. Someone outside the door fired back. The midshipman screamed and then went silent. Adi opened the hatch, and Johnson leaned out covering us. I pushed Adi inside, and rolled in behind her, then turned around to help Johnson cover Armstrong’s retreat.

  But the hatch had closed automatically when I’d pushed Adi too far into the tunnel.

  “Open it!” I shouted.

  Johnson tried to get out of the way. Adi tried to climb over me. In the melee, no one got close to the grille, and I could still hear and see flashes of plasma fire.

  In a move full of frustration and panic, Adi undid her wrist comm and thrust it at me. I was closer to the door than her, and it made complete sense.

  It was only after I’d used it to open the hatch and Johnson had started covering Armstrong again that I realised exactly what she had done.

  Armstrong rolled into the tube, smelling of charred fabric and burned skin. His face was pale and covered in sweat. He grimaced when he landed on a bloody shoulder. Johnson kept firing, long enough for me to get one last look into the room. The midshipman, whose name I couldn’t remember, lay still on the gel floor. A plasma burn to her chest. It was no longer rising and falling.

  I pulled back. Signalled to Johnson at my side. And then used Adi’s wrist comm to close the hatch.

  No one said a thing.

  The armoured guard stepped into the room now the resistance had stopped and fired a single shot to the midshipman’s forehead. It was unnecessary. Adi jerked. Johnson swore. Armstrong had his eyes closed, and his teeth gritted.

  “One more will die for this,” the merc said and strode out of the cabin, leaving behind the knowledge that we had caused this woman’s death and the death of one other.

  Twenty-Five

  Bring Out Your Dead

  Adi

  The way back to the computer core was silent but for Lieutenant Armstrong’s occasionally pain-filled breaths. He insisted on making the journey under his own steam. No one could help him. His shoulder and arm were badly flayed on one side and his hip and thigh on the other, making it impossible to walk beside him and offer any aid without further adding to his discomfort.

  The captain carried his weapon for him. His face hard. His eyes haunted.

  He’d handed my wrist comm back to me before we’d moved out. I hadn’t expected he would once I’d given it to him. I found him a difficult man to read.

  I led the way, with Lieutenant Johnson right behind me. I wasn’t sure if his closeness was to offer protection should my father’s men have made it inside the tubes and surprised me, or because he like the captain still didn’t trust me.

  But maybe I was winning the captain over. He had given me back my wrist comm, after all.

  I started to climb up the glowing green ladder, aware that Armstrong was having difficulty well behind me. I tried not to get too far ahead of him and the captain. I’d just slowed near Deck C, where the green glowing gel wall branched off toward the computer core when the ship rocked beneath me.

  It was so sudden and unexpected; I lost my grip. Johnson shouted out below me, frantically trying to catch himself on the ladder and flailing to catch me. His gun got knocked aside, slipping down his arm, until it was hanging on by the strap to his pinky. He had a choice. Keep the weapon or reach for me.

  He chose the weapon. If I’d had time, I would have glared at him. As it was, I fell past too quickly to do anything else but scream.

  My shoulder hit one side of the gel tube, and then my knee bounced off a ladder rung. And then I hit Lieutenant Armstrong.

  Armstrong let out a sound of dreadful agony but somehow managed to keep hold of the ladder, half his body wrapped around one rung.

  I bounced off his bad shoulder and then hit his good hipbone, jarring my head in the process. And then I was past him and falling again.

  I hadn’t stopped screaming; the sound ricocheting around the tube we were all in. The gel walls glowed softly on all sides, mocking me. There was nothing calm or safe about my free fall.

  And then Tremblay caught me. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t painless. All the air was knocked out of my lungs, my chin hit his shoulder, his head hit the gel wall, we slipped down a rung and then another; knocking knees, and banging elbows, and grunting with e
xertion.

  Finally, we stopped somewhere down by Deck D where we’d come from.

  For a moment, neither of us said a thing. And then the ship rocked with what had to be an explosion.

  “What the hell?” Tremblay said, hauling me up his side and getting me close enough to grab the rung he was also holding.

  My trembling fingers wrapped around the gel bar. The ship shuddered again, and my knuckles turned white. My feet found a rung to stand on, not the same one the captain was on; he was taller than me by a significant margin. And then he surrounded me with his body. Pressing me against the ladder, not allowing me to slip out from under him. His hands gripped the rungs over the top of my hands, and his thighs bracketed both of my thighs.

  “It’s OK,” he said when it was anything but.

  The ship rocked and groaned, and something that sounded distinctly like fire roaring sounded out from down one of the tunnels.

  “What the hell is it, Captain?” Johnson yelled from way above us.

  Tremblay gripped my hands harder, almost painfully so, but I wasn’t complaining. The tunnel had begun to warp all around me, and my vision had started to blur. I lowered my head to the rung before me and closed my eyes, panting through the sudden nausea that had started.

  “Artificial gravity is fluctuating,” Tremblay said.

  “Jesus, it sucks,” Armstrong muttered sounding terrible.

  And then the ladder groaned beneath us ominously.

  “Get off! Get off the ladder!” Tremblay barked.

  He pulled me sideways, into the nearest tunnel, which happened to be Deck D again. Above us Johnson scrambled into Deck C’s tunnel and then his head poked out and he yelled at Armstrong to hurry up. The poor wounded officer struggled to stay on the ladder, let alone move up it. But the gel walls suddenly stopped glowing green, and the ladder made a noise that did not sound at all healthy.

  And in a second or two, Armstrong found the energy required to make it close enough to Johnson, who reached out and grabbed his arm; saving him.