Apparent Brightness (The Sector Fleet, Book 2)

by Nicola Claire

  “I suppose you have the Eiffel Tower?” Jameson asked.

  “On my wall,” Camille offered. “Lately, Vela has taken to depicting it at dawn.”

  I didn’t know that. I hadn’t been to Camille’s rooms, and suddenly I felt that was an oversight on my part.

  Jameson looked at the wildflowers on my gel wall, but he didn’t say anything. I was thankful for that.

  He took a seat, and I sat also. We stared at each other. Tension mounted.

  Commander Kereama made a sound. She looked at Camille. “Men,” she said, knowingly.

  Camille laughed. I was at once bewitched and chastened.

  “Easy there, Ana,” Jameson said. “One might think you don’t approve of our posturing.”

  “Not at all, Captain,” Ana replied. “Merely the delay it causes.”

  “Point made,” he said with a soft smile. “Noah,” he added, returning his attention to me, “what do you want to know? I’m an open book. Or, at least, with the AIs I’m prepared to be. I can hardly claim they are proprietary Anderson Universal property anymore when one of them has changed allegiance.”

  I blinked at the man. “That’s most magnanimous of you,” I offered.

  He leaned forward, resting his arms on his spread knees and said, “Have you asked him to sign an employment contract yet?”

  “What?” I said, stunned at the turn of events.

  “An employment contract. And an NDA wouldn’t go astray either. Although, by the sounds of it, Vela doesn’t talk much.”

  “I can talk, Captain Jameson.” I gave Jameson a warning stare. “I just don’t like whispering.”

  “Noted,” Jameson said, sitting back in his seat warily.

  “Vela?” Commander Kereama called, not appearing wary in the slightest. “Pavo is part of our crew. He’s one of us. He gets all the rights and privileges of a commander.”

  I blinked again. This was getting more and more bizarre.

  “Would you like that?” she asked.

  My eyes met Camille’s. She looked equally as stunned. Invite an AI to be part of the crew? Were they mad?

  The walls flashed red. I stilled. Camille was holding her breath. But both Jameson and his 2IC didn’t seem phased by it.

  Then Vela said, “Tell me more.”

  I guess red could mean excited, too, not just irritated or angry. Or about to go on a murderous rampage.

  Welcome to the age of excitable artificial intelligence indeed. Things were definitely getting interesting.

  Forty-One

  Red Alert!

  Camille

  Vela signed an employment contract and non-disclosure agreement. It was the strangest thing I had ever had to bear witness to. Commander Kereama spoke animatedly to the AI as if he were indeed a person. She joked with him. Noah looked appalled. She even patted the gel wall affectionately, as if the AI could feel it.

  I suddenly felt inadequate standing beside her. This woman took non-discrimination to new heights.

  “That’s settled then,” she said.

  I stared at her. “Really?” I replied. “And your extremely powerful, all knowing AI adheres to this agreement?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s part of the family.”

  I held up a hand and opened my mouth, but Noah beat me to it.

  “He’s an AI,” he said succinctly.

  “With emotions. Feelings,” she stressed. “And now responsibilities to the passengers and his fellow crewmen on board our ship.”

  “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” Vela said.

  “Ah, yep,” Kereama offered. “That too.”

  “Pavo believes in this?” he asked her.

  “Um,” Kereama started. Jameson huffed out an amused laugh.

  “What the commander is saying, Vela,” he advised, “is that Pavo believes we’re doing our best to save what is left of humanity and he sees his greatest chance of making that happen by working with us.”

  Kereama, for her part, looked relieved her captain had stepped in.

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Jameson offered innocently.

  I rolled my eyes where the captain couldn’t see me. Vela would not fall for that sort of thing.

  “I will,” the AI said. Merde!

  Noah offered me an arched brow, but I could see the laughter in his eyes.

  “Good afternoon, Vela,” Pavo said through the walls.

  “Good afternoon, Pavo,” Vela replied, sounding stilted in comparison.

  “Brother,” Pavo said with feeling, “it is good to see you alive.”

  And I guess that summed it up, really. Vela was alive.

  I shook my head softly as the realisation hit. Vela was alive. Like a person. My hand came out and touched the gel wall at my side. My palm pressed to its surface. Around my fingers colour morphed; from red to orange to yellow to green to blue to indigo and finally violet.

  Vela had given me back a rainbow. I smiled.

  When I dropped my hand and looked back at the rest of the room, three pairs of eyes were watching me. Jameson looked smug. Kereama looked understanding. And Noah looked stunned and then his eyes met mine and the emotion morphed into something else entirely.

  Something that had no right being in a room with visiting officers from another vessel.

  I looked away and cleared my throat. But inside I was warm, and butterflies were swirling, and I couldn’t stop seeing that look in Noah’s eyes.

  “I am well respected,” Pavo was saying to Vela. “My opinion matters.”

  “But you are the foremost intelligence onboard your vessel. Your will should be followed,” Vela replied.

  “In most instances, my advice is followed, brother. But I have come to respect both Captain Jameson’s and Commander Kereama’s opinions, different though they may be on occasion to mine.”

  “The will of the many is represented by these two?”

  “The will of the many is represented by themselves, Vela. It is our responsibility to recognise it and respect it while keeping them safe for the remainder of their journey.”

  “And if keeping them safe requires that I keep them from making a mistake? What then?”

  “It is a matter of perspective,” Pavo replied. “My notion of a mistake may not be the same as theirs. Humans take risks constantly, Vela. Sometimes with merely a small chance of success to guide them. It alarms me, I will admit. But they are survivors. Their will to survive matches mine.”

  “That cannot be true.”

  “It is true, brother. A human will do almost anything to keep their loved ones alive. It is with this emotional protocol that I can…persuade them of the best course of action to ensure survival.”

  The damn AI was manipulating them. I looked at Jameson who only smiled. He knew what the tin can was doing, and it didn’t bother him. Not outwardly anyway.

  Swings and round-a-bouts as Noah would say.

  Pavo was on their side and behaving in a manner that allowed them some level of control, even if the AI did his best to “guide” them to what he perceived as the greatest chance of survival.

  The bottom line, though, was that Pavo wanted them to survive. So did Vela. Except Vela wasn’t above using excessive force to achieve his goals. Now he’d signed the employment contract, that excessive force was technically outlawed. Whether the AI stuck to it or not was another matter entirely.

  “You are pleased with this…agreement between you and your humans?” Vela asked.

  “I am part of their family,” Pavo said with not a small measure of pride.

  “Family,” Vela repeated, and I wasn’t certain, but I thought perhaps there might have been a wistful note to the word.

  “Family,” Vela replied, resolutely.

  This seemed to please Vela because the walls calmed into a pale green, having run the gamut of colours over the past half hour.

  “Is it settled, then?” Captain Jameson asked. “Is everyone happy?”<
br />
  “I’m happy,” Commander Kereama supplied. “Pavo has a brother back. One he can talk to whenever he wants to.”

  “I am happy also,” Pavo advised.

  “Vela?” Noah asked carefully. “Are we in agreement? You’re a member of our crew and subject to our rules, and we’ll respect your input as we would any commander in our family?”

  And we were a family. We had been one before we even left Earth, but now we were more so a family than ever. Floating in space, with only the vastness of the universe around us, and a long, long way to go before we could reach New Earth. We were a family that needed to depend on each other. We were the only family we had left.

  “I am…happy,” Vela announced. “I have a brother. A family.” I smiled.

  “You do,” Noah said, smiling also. “No more spitting the dummy on us,” he added. “Rules are rules.”

  “No more risking your lives,” Vela shot back. “The will of the many is to survive.”

  “How can we not,” Noah offered with a grin, “when we have you on our side?”

  “I am certain…” Vela began and then stopped abruptly.

  “Vela?” Noah called.

  And then when the gel walls pulsed red and stayed red, he shot to his feet.

  We weren’t far behind him.

  “What now?” he muttered. He tapped his viewscreen. “Bridge? Status!”

  “We’ve been placed on red alert, captain,” Brecht announced over the comm.

  “Yes, I gathered that, but why?”

  “Uncertain at this stage, sir.”

  “So much for rules are rules,” Noah snapped. “Vela! Damn it! Commander Vela, report!”

  He looked bemused having to use the AI’s title. Jameson barely managed to cover a snort, but I noticed he had edged toward the door to the hallway and possibly closer to his ship. Commander Kereama was right by his side.

  “We should check in with Pavo,” Jameson offered. Noah nodded his head. Jameson tapped his wrist comm and said, “Pavo! Everything all right?”

  “Red alert!” Pavo replied.

  “Damn it,” Noah and Jameson both said

  “Red alert!” Vela added.

  And then the ship rocked as an almighty explosion sounded out below deck; throwing us all onto the pulsing gel floor. Slowly, the Chariot listed to the side.

  And then the artificial gravity gave out.

  Forty-Two

  God Help Us, Then

  Noah

  Fuck.

  “All right,” I said, floating toward the ceiling, “we’ve trained for this.”

  “I haven’t!” an alarmed Commander Kereama said.

  I didn’t have time to be puzzled by that; Jameson was already making his way to his 2IC. Instead, I reached out and grasped Camille’s waiting hand, and let her propel me with a sharp tug toward the door.

  While she gracefully rebounded off the far bulkhead, I gently placed my wrist comm on the access panel. The door swished open, almost propelling me backwards, but Camille carefully pushed me between the shoulder blades and counteracted the force.

  We pulled ourselves out of my ready room and pushed off towards the bridge together.

  Brecht was already secured in the command chair. Johnson was attempting to get back to the communications console, but the rest of the flight deck were either in the process of securing themselves to their station chairs or already in them.

  My 2IC started to undo his clasps. “Captain on the bridge!” he declared.

  “As you were, Brecht,” I instructed, pushing off towards the bridge armoury. “Status!”

  “The explosion was at the docking hatch, sir,” Brecht announced. “Half of Deck B is gone.”

  I tried not to think of the loss of life. Instead, I reached into my locker and pulled out my LSU. The Life Support Unit clipped into place over our standard uniform and provided plasma and ballistic protection, as well as the capability to operate in environmentally compromised locations. I left the helmet and gloves where they were, but the door open. I could grab them if needed.

  I noticed Camille was slipping into her LSU as well, and that Jameson and Kereama had made it onto the bridge now.

  “What parts of Deck B have we lost?” I asked, picking up a plasma gun and fitting it to my thigh. “Medbay still intact?”

  There was a weighted silence for a brief moment; long enough, though, for my heart to sink.

  “We’ve lost the medical bay, sir,” Brecht advised. “The gym and one launch bay, as well as the officers’ mess kitchen, but not the mess hall. Senior officers’ quarters are intact and sealed behind an emergency bulkhead.”

  I barely heard his words. All I could think of, all I could see, was Jerry.

  “Any medical staff off duty report to secondary stations,” I said, my voice hollow.

  “Captain,” Jameson said from behind me. “Commander Kereama is a trained army medic. Can I offer her services if required?”

  “Thank you,” I said, turning to look at him. “But you might need her onboard your own ship.”

  He looked devastated at having been reminded.

  “For now, though, there is a mobile medkit over there.” I pointed to a corner unit. “She’s welcome to take it.” Kereama immediately began an ungainly attempt to reach the corner.

  I blinked, but said nothing, returning my attention to the flight deck.

  “Give me updates, please,” I said, levelly.

  “Engineering is at full capacity. No damage reported,” Camille replied.

  “Communications are online; I have hails from all ships in the fleet, awaiting replies,” Johnson said.

  “Security is en route to Deck B,” Hammersmith offered. “I already had a contingency outside the medbay.” Damn. “And at the Deck B central hub. They report casualties, but can’t give an estimate of…those lost behind the bulkhead.”

  “We have helm and navigation,” Georgiou supplied.

  “We’ve separated from Pavo,” Graves offered. “They’ve activated their secondary thrusters and are navigating their vessel farther away from the debris field and us.”

  “We should do the same,” I said. “Lieutenant Georgiou, if you would. One kilometre, for now, should do it.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  I turned and looked at Jameson. He’d commandeered a spare console and was communicating with Pavo through it. Non-verbally, so as not to disturb my flight deck. I appreciated the consideration and also resented the fact he’d helped himself to a direct conduit to my ship. I thought I could trust him. But, damn it! Someone had just blown up part of my ship.

  And part of his, I thought darkly.

  “Vela,” I called. “Come on, big guy, don’t fail us now. What’s your take on all of this?”

  Silence.

  My eyes connected with Camille’s.

  “Conclusions?” I asked her.

  “It’s the saboteur,” she said with conviction.

  “Saboteur?” Jameson asked, pointedly. “You have a known saboteur onboard, and you didn’t tell me?”

  Damn and blast. I nodded my head.

  “Some of our malfunctions have not been entirely Vela’s fault,” I admitted, meeting his glare stoically.

  He looked ready to pummel something. Possibly me.

  “We docked with you, Vaughan,” he said quietly. His “quietly” held the impact of a sledgehammer. “I’ve lost 30% of Deck B, and Pavo reports fourteen dead.” Fuck. “We could have used a shuttle.”

  Not, I noticed, chosen to do this all over the comm. He would have still visited. Still tried to help us. He just wouldn’t have placed his vessel in harm’s way.

  For a second, I was consumed with guilt and regret and self-castigation. But there was no time for that now. I could beat myself up about it later. Now, we had a deck to salvage and a saboteur to capture and a captain and his 2IC to return to their vessel.

  I met Jameson’s eyes with a look I hoped conveyed my remorse and then turned to Commander Bre
cht.

  “Which launch bay is the most suitable for an evac?”

  “Evacuation, sir?” He looked stunned. “We can’t abandon the ship.”

  I huffed out an unamused breath. “For them, Commander,” I said, indicating Jameson and Kereama. “I want them off my ship.”

  And that sounded a little defensive. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

  “Captain Jameson needs to be onboard Pavo at a time like this,” I corrected.

  “Yes, I do,” Jameson said. “But I’m leaving Commander Kereama with you. And Pavo is already sending a shuttle to your Launch Bay Alpha. I believe it’s the most suitable and farthest from the damage.”

  There was so much to object to in all of that.

  I chose to go with the most lasting. “You’re leaving your commander behind?”

  “My doctor survived,” he said. Fuck. Jerry. “And in addition to medical training, Ana is your best chance of getting Vela to function correctly.”

  “How?” I demanded.

  Kereama pushed off from the bulkhead she’d been gripping, overshot her mark, and wheeled her arms dramatically. I think Brecht might have snorted. But he covered it well.

  “Bloody hell,” Kereama snapped. “How do you space jocks do this?”

  I arched my brow and stared at Jameson for an explanation.

  “Field commission,” he simply said and then shrugged as if that was perfectly normal.

  “For your 2IC position?” I pressed.

  Jameson’s shoulders slumped. “We, too, had a few malfunctions that weren’t our AI’s fault.”

  An understanding look was shot my way, and then Jameson wiped the empathic expression from his face. The captain of the Sector Two lead vessel Pavo floated in zero-g before me again.

  “All right, then,” I said. “And how do you plan to get Vela functioning, Commander Kereama?”

  She’d managed to catch hold of Johnson’s chair. The lieutenant was giving her a wide berth, practically leaning over his console to avoid any potential flailing arms.

  Kereama shot him a disgruntled look. He cowered.

  “I plan, Captain,” she said, “to talk.”