Accelerating Universe: The Sector Fleet Book One Read online

  Ten thousand lives.

  And not a single one of them meant a damn thing to Archibald.

  “She wouldn’t…” Archibald said.

  “Do you honestly think she cared about you?” I felt sick saying it. But I damn well did not show an ounce of that emotion on my face.

  He studied me, and then he threw back his head and laughed.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, suddenly smiling as if everything was right in his world. “She did what she had to do. I can understand that. I can even understand your pitiful attempt to make the captain seem like the best chance of finding Pavo. And you almost had me. Both of you did. Brilliant acting. I was about to chuck him aside and shoot you instead. Wouldn’t that have been bad?”

  My heart thundered at his words. The man didn’t think like a normal person. He didn’t value what a normal person would value. I’d fucked up. I’d miscalculated. I was finding it difficult to look Jameson in the eyes.

  “Nice try, Ana,” Archibald said. He placed the muzzle against Jameson’s stomach instead of his head. “It won’t kill him immediately, of course,” he explained. “But this way, you get to watch him suffer. I think that will mess you up far more than the death of your sergeant ever did.”

  Oh, stars.

  Archibald smiled.

  I took a step forward; my injured thigh gave out as I placed more weight on it. I fell as Archibald fired.

  And the datapad slipped out of my uniform top as the wind was pushed out of my body on impact.

  Thirty-Eight

  Acceptable

  Jameson

  I twisted, just as Archibald fired, making the plasma shot land on my side and not in my stomach. It still fucking hurt. I lay on the gel floor and panted through the sharp stabs of pain, as the world around me warped in and out in time with my rapid heartbeat. I expected another shot. I expected a boot to the ribs. I expected all manner of things, but none of them happened.

  And the longer it took me to realise I was still alive, the more I became petrified for Ana.

  So courageous, so beautiful, so incredible. She’d stood up to Archibald, challenged him, and hadn’t backed down. Not for one second. She made an outstanding commander.

  And I was so fucking in love.

  And possibly dying.

  And had only kissed her once and not very well.

  It was a travesty.

  I couldn’t move, and for what felt like an eternity, I couldn’t hear anything other than my harsh, laboured breaths, and the thudding of my pulse inside my skull.

  But I could sure as hell feel a hell of a lot. That shot had done damage, but not what Archibald had hoped for. Gut wounds sucked. This sucked only slightly less, but I’d take anything I could at this juncture.

  Sound rushed back in with a loud pop. My vision was taking a little longer. But I didn’t need to see to hear what was being said.

  “What’s the password?” Archibald said. “Tell me, and he lives another minute longer.”

  “Fuck you.” And then the sound of someone spitting.

  Not particularly officer-like, but I had to admit, Ana had a certain style.

  I smiled.

  Scuffling and grunting sounded out. I wanted to see. I turned my head. But everything was a blur of colours.

  “Stop fighting, or I’ll take your hand,” Archibald snarled. She was getting to him. Breaking his facade. But he was hurting her. I could hear the pain in the sounds she was making.

  I tried to speak. To distract. To offer comfort. I could do nothing but lie there. Useless. I had to do something. I had to see better. I blinked and blinked again, and then Ana screamed in defiance.

  “Cut the blasted thing off,” Archibald growled.

  “With the plasma gun?” one of his mercs asked.

  “I don’t care how you take it, but take that fucking woman’s hand so we can access this datapad.”

  I moved. Albeit only slightly, but adrenaline or fear or God knows what was making my vision clear and my muscles tighten.

  “Touch me, and you’re dead, arsehole,” Ana growled.

  “How about just her index finger?” the merc asked.

  “Scared of a little girl?” Ana taunted.

  “Cut. The. Hand. Off,” Archibald said very slowly. Each word forced out of his mouth.

  A plasma gun fired up.

  I struggled. I willed my body to move. I yelled inside my head. I did everything I could think of to reach her. To intercept. To stop this horrific thing from happening.

  Ana screamed. Someone grunted. The plasma gun went flying.

  “Oh, for the love of God, I’ll do it myself,” Archibald announced.

  The gun landed right beside me. None of the mercs was watching where it went. They were too busy watching the show. Ana fighting for her life, if not her hand. Fighting to protect Pavo.

  And that’s what it all boiled down to. Let this psychopath get his hands on our AI and allow an Anderson Universal vessel to fall into enemy hands. Because that’s what he was. An enemy of Anderson Universal.

  But more than that, he was an enemy of New Earth.

  We had to warn the Sector Three and Four Fleets. We had to save the Sector One Fleet. There was so much to do, and all of it boiled down to this moment. This bridge, right here and right now. To Ana protecting Pavo.

  To me helping her achieve that.

  I rolled over. My hand landed on the plasma gun. My vision wavered. I lifted the rifle and tried to sight down the barrel.

  Archibald was holding the datapad; two mercs were holding Ana; one on each arm. She was struggling, moving, thrashing between them, making it hard to know who to aim for.

  I couldn’t touch the mercs on either side of her, for fear of Ana being hit. But I could shoot Archibald.

  So I fired.

  The plasma shot took him in the back of the head.

  My vision wavered. Almost blacked out.

  And then Ana was throwing an elbow and following that up with a punch. Chan was moving, hands still tied behind him, shoulder meeting the middle of a merc’s stomach. Marshal was on her feet, screaming a warrior call, head-butting a merc, and then kicking out in a surprisingly impressive boot to the chin. Two AU security crewmen were running at various others of Archibald’s guards; heads down; snarls on their faces.

  The bridge was in chaos and then Ana shouted, voice full of command and so fucking much chill it made even me shudder.

  “Stand down now!”

  She held a plasma gun. It wasn’t even aimed at anyone. It was just there, in her good hand, the other still attached but all bloody. It was a threat that somehow worked. Sure, Chan and the others had disarmed a lot of the mercs, but some still held onto their weapons. They could have fired. But Ana, God damn Ana, stood in the middle of the bridge; a Valkyrie, all bloodied and battered, and righteously furious to boot.

  “Stand down, I said.”

  “You heard the commander,” Chan growled, backing her up.

  Slowly, one of the mercs lowered his weapon. Archibald was dust. Fighting now wouldn’t lead to a thing but their own destruction. I had a nice airlock picked out for them, and they would have known it. Not that I could do much from my position on the gel-coated floor.

  One by one all of the mercs followed. Until Ana was the only one holding a weapon.

  She walked over to Chan and while keeping an eye on the mercs, undid the ties on his wrist. He quickly freed the rest of the crew, while Ana stood watch. The moment our side was armed, she looked at me.

  I could barely focus, but I’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  I thought she’d rush over. You know, give me mouth to mouth or something. At least use that med kit that was still standing in the corner by her console.

  But she sucked in a breath, rolled her shoulders a little, and then crossed the bridge to the datapad, still gripped in Archibald’s hand.

  Huh?

  She picked it up, pressed her thumb to the screen to activate it and o
nly then did she allow herself a small smile.

  Without a backwards glance at the poor schmuck lying dying on the gel-coated floor, she crossed to the nearest console and attached the datapad via retractable hardwires. The screen flared in her hand, the consoles around the bridge lit up, one by one.

  And then Pavo said in his very human sounding voice, “That is much better.”

  “Are you all right?” Ana asked.

  “Running a diagnostic.”

  “Say it,” she ordered. And it was an order. Hot damn.

  Everyone watched, including the now securely bound mercs. I tried to stay focused. Hell, I tried to stay conscious.

  And then Pavo said, “Acceptable.”

  Ana stood there a moment longer and then nodded her head. She sucked in one final breath, as if fortifying herself, and then she was walking toward me, swiping up the med kit, and kneeling by my side.

  “You’re limping,” I said.

  “Flesh wound.”

  “Your wrist is bleeding.”

  “Just a graze.”

  “Anywhere else?”

  “Hush,” she whispered. “Captain,” she added, and then shot an injector into the side of my neck and the lights went out.

  Thirty-Nine

  I Just Smiled

  Ana

  It was a strange feeling standing on the bridge when Jameson was not and everyone looking to me for orders. I tried not to notice the doubt in their eyes; the questions there that spoke of incredulity. I could hardly blame them. Until recently, I’d been a pay-for-passage, and then a second lieutenant. And now Jameson’s 2IC.

  It didn’t make any sense to me, why would it make any sense to them?

  “Your orders, Commander?” Chan asked.

  Orders. As if I knew what to do now.

  Jameson had been taken to the medbay, along with Lieutenant Taylor. It didn’t look good for Taylor, but mentioning that right now didn’t seem helpful. The Mercs were still trussed up in the corner. Archibald and the deceased had at least been removed. The bridge was a mess; blood splatters everywhere, consoles still smoking.

  We looked battered and bruised, exactly as we were feeling. Archibald had almost won. But he hadn’t.

  “Take those Mercs to the brig, Lieutenant,” I said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

  I wasn’t sure if he agreed with the captain about my sudden rise to first officer, but Chan was military through and through, and he knew how to follow orders. Jameson had told him directly that I was now commander, so Chan was acting on that directive.

  Jameson had not, however, told anyone else on the bridge of my new position.

  I waited until Chan and his security team had escorted the mercs out of the bridge and then made myself meet every eye left.

  “OK,” I said, hardly reassuringly commanding. “We need communications. Lieutenant Marshal?”

  She looked at me and then at Lieutenant Childs. I placed the most authoritative look on my face that I could muster and said, “Now, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Marshal said softly and turned her attention to her busted console.

  “Lieutenant Childs,” I said.

  “Yes. Ma’am.” There was a pause there, but I wasn’t going to address it now. Not yet. They didn’t know me. And we had more important things to deal with.

  “Get second shift tactical and helm in here to cover, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” This time there wasn’t a pause as if the command made sense and she didn’t feel the necessity to argue.

  I looked at the captain’s seat and considered sitting in it. In the end, I couldn’t take that step. It was probably the wrong thing to do; the more I acted like I belonged here, the better. The problem was I didn’t believe it. I just had to hold it together until Jameson was back or could appoint a new 2IC. I considered my commission a temporary one.

  And on that note, I pinged Doctor Medina in the medbay from the ops table.

  “Ana,” he said in greeting. “Any chance you’re returning sometime soon?”

  “To the medbay?”

  “Where else is there?”

  I smiled. I wasn’t sure it was believable just yet.

  “No, Doctor. Jameson promoted me to first officer. My place is on the bridge. For now.”

  Medina didn’t show a reaction, but he did glance over his shoulder; I assumed at Jameson.

  “Is he awake?” I asked.

  “Plasma shot nicked his kidney. I had to operate to stop the bleeding. Anaesthesia won’t wear off for another hour or so. I’m using the time to heal some ribs. Archibald did a number on him.”

  “He did a number on a lot of people,” I murmured.

  Medina held my gaze on the viewscreen.

  “Ana,” he started. “Commander,” he corrected. “May I offer a piece of advice?”

  “Of course,” I said. The doc had always been straight with me, right from when I first stepped into the medical bay.

  “If Jameson’s placed you in charge, then you need to be in charge. I’ve known John for a decade or more, and he doesn’t make decisions lightly.”

  I offered a smile that was more a grimace and said, “Let me know when he’s conscious.”

  “Depends whether you want conscious and in command of his faculties, or conscious and no help to anyone.”

  “I’ll take whatever you can give me,” I said.

  He opened his mouth, no doubt to offer some more words of wisdom, but I signed off before he could voice them.

  Two AU crewmen entered the bridge, dragging my attention away from the blank screen.

  “Childs,” one of them said. “What the hell’s been happening?”

  Lieutenant Childs looked across the bridge at me and said nothing.

  “Are you second shift helm and tactical?” I asked.

  “Who wants to know?” one of them said.

  I walked out from the ops area and crossed to the captain’s chair.

  “Commander Kereama,” I said, holding his narrow-eyed stare.

  “I don’t know any Commander Kereama,” he sneered, "and your insignia says you’re nothing more than a second lieutenant.”

  “Commander Torrence is dead,” I said, hoping to shock him into silence.

  “Still don’t know you,” the guy said and looked at Lieutenant Childs. “Childs?”

  She bit her lip and looked toward Marshal for support, unwilling to say what was obviously on her mind; that they thought the captain had made a mistake or that I was taking liberties that weren’t mine to take.

  “Pavo,” I said, raising my voice. “Replay Captain Jameson’s command.”

  “Yes, Commander,” Pavo said in a fine imitation of his previous robotic voice. A viewscreen in the gel ceiling started lowering and on it appeared Jameson’s instructions to Pavo on the datapad from earlier.

  I have just promoted Second Lieutenant Ana Kereama to First Officer. Please update the log.

  The officer stared at me and shook his head. “That means nothing. Anyone could have written that. Where’s the voiceprint confirmation?”

  Shit. Jameson hadn’t had time since Pavo came back online to follow up that order with a voice command.

  “Where is the captain?” the other, until now silent, officer asked.

  “Medbay, under sedation,” I offered. “Attacked by Damon Archibald and his men.”

  “What the hell?” the first guy said. “So, we don’t have a chain of command.”

  “You have me,” I snapped.

  “Forgive me…Lieutenant, but I don’t know you from squat.”

  “I can confirm Commander Kereama’s position as first officer of this ship,” Pavo announced.

  “This from a malfunctioning AI,” the guy muttered.

  “My systems are operating within acceptable parameters.”

  The officer glanced at the crewman who’d walked in with him.

  “What choice have we got?” the guy said to him.

  The officer
shook his head. “We can’t accept anything that thing says as true; it’s broken.”

  “I am not broken,” Pavo said. The guy ignored him.

  “For now, we check all systems manually. Childs,” he said, authority in his voice. “Navigation status.”

  “Running a diagnostic, Lieutenant.”

  “Marshal, what’s happening fleet-wide? Any chatter?”

  “Comms are down, Lieutenant.”

  “Fix it. Baxter, take the helm and see if we get any response. Let’s get everything up and running, people.”

  He walked to the tactical station, looked at it for a moment, and then glanced at the captain’s chair. I stood there, feeling superfluous. Feeling useless. Feeling like I had no right to be there. The officer strode across the bridge as if he belonged, and let’s face it, he did. And sat down in the captain’s chair. His eyes met mine.

  “What was your role on first shift?” he asked.

  I said nothing. I was having trouble not tucking tail and running.

  “Something to do with Pavo,” Childs said.

  “Well,” the guy mused. “Fat lot of good that will do us; he’s fucked. Go grab us a cup of coffee, Kereama. It’s going to be a long shift waiting for the captain to get back on his feet again.”

  He pressed a button on the captain’s chair, dismissing me, and I heard a communications chime go out.

  Marshal looked up from her battered console and met my stunned gaze. She offered a small smile, but then returned her attention to repairing fleet-wide communications. Everyone else studiously ignored me.

  “This is Lieutenant Commander George Maxwell,” the officer said from the captain’s chair. His voice came out over the ship-wide speakers in the gel ceiling. “All Anderson Universal crew report to stations. Report to stations and standby.”

  “Standby for what, Lieutenant Commander?” Pavo asked.

  “Never you mind, tin can,” the guy said. He glanced over his shoulder. “Kereama! Where’s my coffee?” he snapped.