Ensign Monica Samuels dispassionately watched Clint Morrison, in his engineering enlisted uniform, tap the butt of his pistol on the door frame before quickly bringing his prisoner back in its sights. The hatch opened and he eyed the young officer as she passed into her own quarters. The barrier closed again, and the metallic click indicated that it would not open again until someone on the other side came for her.
Finally alone, she dropped the brave front she'd maintained since she had reentered the ship. Her impassive face slid away, to be replaced by a snarl of anger. She looked about for something she could kick without breaking her toes, but there was nothing that fit the bill. Navy beds, navy footlockers, navy doors. If this were one of her own family's ships, at least there would have been carpeting!
Blast it, what did the captain mean? Is it possible that he knows why I’m here? Is that why he told me to stay? Uncertainty clouded the young officer's expression as she looked into the navy mirror secured to the wall above the room's sink. The mirror held no answers and offered no solace to her personal pain. Instead, it showed the bunk belonging to her missing roommate, Ensign Jherri Roberts which just accentuated her own situation. Jherri had been one of the officers who had been exiled to Antoc A3 with Captain Brighton aboard the shuttle Vanguard.
Samuels grabbed the rim of the sink, and closing her eyes, leaned forward to rest her head lightly on the mirror. Man, what a mess I’ve gotten myself into now! I finally think I have it all worked out, I know where my duty lies. I get on board Vanguard, and then Captain Brighton sends me back! Why would he do that? Does he feel that I belong with the traitors?
How could things have gone so horribly wrong so quickly? she wondered.
Six hours ago, her world was precisely what she wanted it most to be. She had been a newly promoted ensign posted to one of the most sought after position in the fleet, serving a tense watch on the bridge under the exacting scrutiny of her captain. Well, perhaps not precisely what she wanted. If it were a perfect universe, when she had graduated from Warner Naval Academy six months before, she would have gone straight back to school for Advanced Cyber-Warfare. Rules were rules, though, and a "middy tour" was mandatory before she could apply for further study.
Going back to school was not likely to happen now, any more than Any more than she could change the last six hours. She was done as Officer of the Deck on Captain Brighton's third watch. The odds that she would ever see Captain again, or any of the eighteen others exiled with him, were vanishingly small.
Monica Samuels opened her eyes and leaned away from the mirror. There were tears threatening to spill over, and the weakness they represented embarrassed her, though no one was there to see them. She wiped the moisture away and put her hair back in place where the mirror had disturbed the laser line of her black bangs. Next, she willed her pale face back into its calm mask; she was getting good at living behind a mask.
Samuels found that putting herself physically back into good order was helping to restore her mental and emotional equilibrium as well, which she desperately needed. She continued her efforts, removing the hair clip that held her ponytail, shaking out the hair that didn't quite reach her collar, and then clipping it tightly back in place. She still had on the officer's uniform of a Warner Space Navy ensign that she had donned for her rotation on the bridge that had started at 0000 that morning.
Unbidden, the morning scene replayed itself in her mind.
Ensign Samuels looked around the bridge. The captain was occupying the astrogation console. Tim O’Neill had moved around to the scan board on the port side of the bridge just aft of the Environmental station manned by Drew Le Vesconte. Everything was quiet. She turned to walk toward the unmanned cartography console on the other side of the bridge, but she never made it there. The bridge hatch slid open and two engineering crewmen jumped through, holding pistols. Samuels knew that she should do something, but she stood frozen in place. She watched Captain Brighton hit a button on his console then he stood to face the threat. He stopped suddenly, as frozen as Samuels, when Lt. Commander Teach, the man who the captain thought was his friend, came through the hatch behind the crewmen, Kasdorf and Morrison she thought their names were.
“Everyone sit back down," Teach ordered, waving his pistol. Just then the ship was shaken by several small jolts.
He stood there and looked at the captain. Indecision showed plainly on his face. He had not expected the explosions so he appeared unsure.
Samuels herself was not sure what the jolts were but they felt like very small explosions in multiple points on the ship’s surface. She briefly considered whether she were about to die but Captain Brighton stood there, unfazed and patient, so she calmed her quavering stomach and tried to follow his example.
"I said to sit down, Captain," Teach repeated finally, and waved his gun at the watch crew. Samuels took the last few steps to the cartography console and sat down slowly, never taking her eyes off the captain. He would know what to do.
Brighton folded his arms across his chest and stared at the renegade officer.
"What was that noise?" Teach asked as he moved over to stand in front of Captain. The captain made no reply, but the fury in his expression was strong enough that she was surprised that Teach didn’t recoil.
Getting no answer from Captain Brighton, he turned to the bridge crew. "I am taking command of this ship. All officers and crew who wish to stay on the ship will be welcomed and receive the respect they deserve. I will no longer allow the kind of abuse and harassment that has been the norm under the previous command," he said.
Samuels sat back in her chair, stunned.
What was he talking about? Brighton was tough on the crew when they didn’t measure up to his expectations but she had never seen any abuse.
She wasn’t sure to expect, but she certainly had not imagined mutiny. The comments about abuse were also confusing, Captain Brighton was an intimidating presence, especially to an Ensign just out of the academy, but he had never been abusive to any of the crew in her presence.
Teach grinned at the captain as if he had scored critical points in some game. Samuels remembered wanting to scream at him. She wanted to pound her head on the console, anything to make this nightmare end. Instead, she sat frozen and silent in her chair trying to decide what to do.
Captain Brighton stepped forward quickly and slapped Teach hard enough to make him stagger back a step. The two startled crewmen raised their pistols but took no further action nor did Commander Teach move to use the weapon held loosely in his hand. The captain took a step back and said to the bridge crew, "Take no immediate action. Do as you're instructed. Loyal members of the crew will no doubt be here soon to collect these misguided lunatics."
The watch standers visibly relaxed as they received their instructions, but Teach seemed to swell with rage and his eyes flashed.
"You are no longer in a position to give any orders on my bridge, Willy," he said, before turning to face the helm.
"Ms. Williams, you will set a course to Antoc-A3," he said to the helmswoman. She never made any response.
"Did you hear the order, Ms. Williams?"
"I heard some noise come out of your mouth, but I haven't heard any orders. Orders come from the captain," she said, with insubordinate venom.
Samuels watched with horror as the rage exploded across Teach’s face and he swung his pistol around to fire at Williams. Captain Brighton lunged after the weapon but he was grabbed from behind by crewman Morrison who was standing just behind him. Williams threw herself out of the chair as the flechettes tore a large hole in the seat back.
Teach didn’t fire again, even though the pilot lay on the deck beside her chair staring daggers at him. Samuels shivered as if ice slid down her spine at the XO’s sudden mood shift. Was he even sane? she wondered.
He turned calmly to Morrison and said, "Take them down to the shuttle bay. Put the captain on one of the lifeboats and don't let him talk to anyone."
"Aye-aye, sir."
The armed crewman nearest Samuels, Kasdorf his nametag read, grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet while motioning to Le Vesconte and O’Neill with his pistol. He held his weapon pushed into Samuels’ head while the rest filed out of the hatch and then pushed her through to follow them.
Exiting the bridge, she watched as Major Chowdhury, the head of Pathfinder’s Marine security team, was marched down the central passageway in front of them. She had both hands manacled behind her back. Crewmen Trendle and Green were behind her with drawn pistols trained on her head. As she went by, Samuels could see that her uniform was covered in blood. How had they gotten so many of the crew to go along with this insane mutiny?
They were followed by two other engineering ratings carrying the unconscious form of Sergeant Burton, one of the other Marines. Her right side was blackened from some sort of blaster fire, but Samuels could not tell if she was living or dead from the brief look she had. Two other engineering crewmen followed them all with weapons drawn. Both were also covered in blood. They all continued across the main walkway toward sickbay.
Similar scenes were repeated as far as they could see along the corridor, as crew and officers were being herded down to the boatbay, already filling with tense, angry men and women.
The captain was pushed in first, followed by Morrison, who seemed have become his personal guard. Kasdorf pushed Samuels to the starboard corner away from the captain.
Morrison tried to undog the seal on the access hatch to lifeboat nine but found that it would not unseal. It was only then that he noticed the red light on the side panel indicating that the pod was no longer there.
The bay was noisy and all the rest of the crewmen and officers were moved to starboard, completely isolated from the captain. Elle Williams looked at the cluster of mutineers and shook her head. She moved from her group toward the captain. There were murmurs among the pirates, but no one moved to block her way. Drew Le Vesconte followed her after a slight hesitation. Both moved to stand next to Captain Brighton and glared at their captors.
As the doors opened again to admit Teach, the room quieted slightly in anticipation. He surveyed the bay and singled out Dr. Ward who was standing with the other loyalists. Ward looked disoriented and stunned as he moved hesitantly to stand near Teach when instructed to do so. The Executive Officer said something to him that Samuels could not hear. They stood and looked at each other and Ward clearly answered. Teach looked stunned, barked some orders to one of the guards, Simon Chin, and Ward was escorted out into the starboard corridor.
Once the assistant medical officer was accompanied out of the bay, Teach seemed to collect himself and turned to address the larger group. As he did so, more crewmen and officers were pushed into the bay to join the huddled group with Samuels, nearly doubling its size. She saw her friend Jherri Roberts at the front of the group, but was too far away to dare trying to speak to her. Amber Sullivan was standing next to her with fear and confusion covering her thin features. At a quick glance, it looked like nearly all of the crew was assembled.
"Respect is a hard thing to earn," Teach said in a voice that brought the attention back to himself. "It is also impossible to live without. For the last nine months we have been working as slaves to the ambition of a heartless captain without any proper respect, recognition, or acknowledgement. That ends now!" He stood and surveyed the group as if waiting for applause. None arrived.
Samuels snuck a quick look at the captain to see how he was reacting to this slander, but he acted as if he could not hear what was being said. For herself, she wasn’t sure what she was hearing. Just like the pronouncement on the bridge, Teach’s claims didn’t seem to have any basis in fact. Had she been that isolated from what was going on in the rest of the ship? Had there been abuses she was unaware of?
"Soon you will be called upon to make one of the most important decisions of your lives. Brighton will be sent down to a nearby planet. He will have food and water enough to support life. Those who will not acknowledge me as rightful captain of the Pathfinder are welcome to join him there. You can stay here and be free of the tyrant, or you are welcome to share his meager existence. You must choose now. Those of you foolish enough to reject my generosity, please join him. If you wish to take part in this venture as free men, stay where you are."
Monica’s mind raced as she considered what she had just heard. The venom in Teach’s pronouncement left her wondering if he would really allow Brighton the chance at life that he had claimed. It felt more reasonable to assume that he was lying to cover the murder of the captain and all those who followed him. Samuels realized that to follow him would mean her death as well. This thought froze her in place just as the pistols had done on the bridge.
The group shifted uncomfortably on their feet but no one made a move toward the captain. Finally, the large bosun, Derrick Mackey, took two steps toward Teach and spat on the deck plates at his feet. He continued to stare at the traitor as he moved purposefully to join the captain’s small group. He stood in front of him and snapped a parade ground salute. Nearly two thirds of the remaining people, led by Lt. Fyonna Johnson and Major Chowdhury, her hands still handcuffed behind her, quickly followed him. Only Samuels and eight other people were left in front of Teach. Next to Monica, Sullivan started to cry and fell to the deck.
The young ensign looked at the captain, trying to evaluate where her duty directed her. She had a duty of loyalty to the captain and to the Warner Fleet but she had other responsibilities, and other loyalties, as well.
If she went with the captain, she might die and fail in her ultimate responsibility to her parents and immediate family, but if she stayed she would be numbered as a traitor and a thief and would never have a career in the Fleet. Then she would have failed both duties.
The captain looked back at her with the first compassion that she had ever seen him show. He looked into her eyes and nodded as if in agreement with her decision to stay.
She knew she could delay her decision no longer. She hung her head as she contemplated the death of her career and her dream of helping her family and she began to cry softly along with Sullivan, as she made the hardest decision of her life. With that decision made Monica Samuels threw her head back and acted.
She reached down and grabbed the hand of her friend and whispered, “I can’t protect you if you stay.” Sullivan came to her feet and they both walked over to join the captain.
There were seven who chose to remain behind with Teach; one officer, Ensign Omundson and six crewmen.
Teach sent those seven to their quarters, under guard. He then approached the remaining group standing loyally with the Captain.
"Each of you crewmen will be allowed to return to your quarters to grab clothing and whatever personal items that you cannot live without. You will be guarded at all times. If you come to regret your rash decision, simply inform your guards that you wish to stay and you will be allowed to remain in your quarters. All officers, security and bridge crew will remain in the boatbay."
The nine technicians and crewmen loyal to Captain Brighton departed, guarded by Trendle and Green, the two assistant cooks.
When everyone had returned to the boatbay, Teach began the unlock sequence on the nearest lifeboat. The hatch stayed closed, and the indicator stayed red. The lifeboat was gone. Not believing the evidence of his eyes, he had his toadies check each of the other lifeboats. All of the lifeboats in the bay were gone. Samuels knew this had been the cause of the small explosions she had felt just after the pirates had entered the bridge. She remembered that she had seen Captain Brighton activate a switch as soon as he had seen the two crewmen.
He had planned for this, she realized.
We may survive after all.
Teach’s reaction was shocking to Samuels. He stood there ranting and raving at his crew, at the group of exiles, and at Captain Brighton, specifically. Throughout the take-over Teach had remained calm. Well, except when he shot at Williams, she thought. Now, however, he was completely out of control.
At one point, he had to be physically restrained by the crewmen standing next to him. The chief engineer, Katherine Leung, had a haunted look on her face as she pocketed the pistol that her engineering crewmen had taken away from him. Samuels could not feel sorry for her.
Teach finally seemed to regain some control. "Bezates, Danis," he called. "Get into Vanguard and disable the long range transmitter. Jettison the communication pods and pull enough batteries to disable the jump engines."
This surprised Samuels. She had forgotten about the auxiliary vessel docked to the belly of Pathfinder. Vanguard was capable of taking all of the loyal crewmen and officers but with the jump engines disabled, it would only take them to the nearest planet.
The crewmen assigned to disable Vanguard returned quickly. They did not carry any batteries or equipment, so doubtless they had simply sent it all out the launch's starboard airlock. Dr. Ward returned to the boatbay with medical boxes and carrysacks loading him down. He was added to Brighton’s crew and they were all marched at gunpoint to the deck hatch and down the ladder that led to Vanguard's port airlock. The gunmen soon returned for the officers and they were all secured behind the inner airlock door.
Teach stepped forward and offered one last chance for anyone else to save themselves from the fate that awaited them.
"I need you to stay aboard. I'll be back for you," Brighton said quietly to Samuels. She was stunned. It was like a reprieve at the foot of the gallows. She had been ordered to stay. She stood quickly and pulled Sullivan back out of the hatch without ever acknowledging the captain’s remark or looking back at her abandoned fellows. Aichele stood from his seat next to Chowdhury, and moved out of the hatch with his head down, as if in shame. They didn’t look at each other as they made their way back into the boatbay and under guard back into the main living section of the ship. Samuels was separated from Aichele and Sullivan and Morrison took her to her quarters.
She tried not to think of her fellow officers and crew who had been abandoned to their fate, but with limited success. Abruptly, she realized that Brighton was the only one who knew she had been ordered back. If he didn’t survive, she would still be branded a traitor. Why did he order me back?
She had lost track of the number of times she had made such an evaluation while leaning on the meticulously clean fixture.
She had been in her quarters almost five hours now, with nothing to do. She had talked to no one. Her only contact with the outside world was a muffled sobbing from the quarters just forward of her own. It sounded like Amber Sullivan, even though those were not her assigned quarters. This brought another wave of guilt. Poor Amber, I should have left her with Captain, but I thought bringing her back with me would look less suspicious.
Samuels was beginning to go stir crazy. She threw herself onto her bed, as she had several times in the last hours.
She stood again after a moment, unable to hold still. Her black ponytail spun behind her as she began the pacing again. Her mind continued to repeat the questions that had been plaguing her during her hours of isolation.
“Stay,” the captain had said. What did he mean? Did he mean that he didn’t want me? Was it an instruction simply to stay on the ship and nothing more? What was his expectation? Does he knowabout me? If he knows, it would change everything. Should I be trying to delay the theft of the ship? Obstruct their attempts to leave the system? If only Captain Brighton had had more than a few seconds to give me orders, then I might know what the blazes I should be doing right now.
What if the captain is aware of my history and he’s already reported me to Warner?
That could make this a very sticky situation. If he did, I am better off throwing in with Teach.
I have to know for sure, she told herself, arriving at the mirror once again.
She moved quickly to her personal computer study module on the desk by her bunk. The computers in personnel quarters were not designed to interface with the main ship computer. If they were, she was sure she would have been locked elsewhere. The lack of access was a small impediment that she had overcome soon after entering the ship. She glanced at the hatch nervously, as if, after remaining shut for the last five hours, it would choose this moment to open and betray her.
She sat at the desk and logged into the terminal. After inputting her codes she was shocked to see the level to which the system had been locked down. Even her hacks had been disabled.
Captain Brighton had done a thorough job of locking down the system. After twenty minutes of trial and error, using everything Commodore Wellesley had taught her in Advanced Cyber-Structure, she finally got access to her own files. Once she had those, she had what she needed to invade the captain’s personal correspondences. She didn’t have access to any of the ship’s systems from her cabin. Those were part of the main computer on the bridge and only terminals physically connected there could do anything with them, but she was able to get far enough into the system to verify that the only messages to Warner Fleet Headquarters from Captain Brighton had nothing to do with her. With that knowledge, she knew that her only course of action was to complete her original mission. The only way to complete her original mission was to get help to Brighton, who was the only witness to her having been ordered back to Pathfinder.
How am I supposed to do that? she thought.
Any people that might have helped her in reaching her goal had been forcibly removed from the ship, including Captain Brighton and eighteen officers and crew. That left more than thirty supporting Teach against her solitary self. How could he have gotten so many to support him? There would be no help coming from outside the ship either, since they had just completed a test jump into an uninhabited system.
Samuels rose once again and retraced her circuit of the room, analyzing what she knew, trying to formulate a plan that might allow her to provide some assistance to Brighton. Some chance of rescue had to be created for those who had been ejected from the ship, as well. She looked to the empty bunk of her friend Jherri Roberts and thought of her and the others who had gone with the captain into Vanguard against their will.
For all the confident claims to the contrary, the captain and her friends might never return from their exile. She could think of nothing she could do to help them, but that did not diminish her resolve to find a way. She would have to look for opportunities to communicate with the Warner Naval Board. Likely, she would have to manufacture such an opportunity herself. Once word got to them, a force could be assembled both to rescue Brighton and to reclaim Pathfinder. The difficulty would be in getting word out quickly enough that it would make a difference. She knew that only a limited supply of food and water had been provided to Brighton, so rescue had to arrive before that was gone. The other time constraint was that with Pathfinder’s prototype engines, they could move anywhere in the galaxy without leaving a trail to follow.
Once Teach could get past Captain Brighton’s lockouts and control the ship completely, they would disappear without a trace. Delaying that control had to be one of her primary objectives as well.
Commander Teach had said that anyone was welcome to join with him but obviously anyone who signed on at the point of a gun was not going to be completely trusted. She could still see the scene in her mind’s eye. Commander Teach had been ranting to the crew. Crewmen pointed guns at everyone else. Everyone had been looking at each other and trying to figure out what was going on. Mostly, to her shame, she remembered the gripping terror in her belly telling her that if she went into that launch, she would die. Even though Commander Teach had said the exiles would have food and supplies enough to survive on the planet that was their destination. It had taken everything she could muster to make that decision to join the captain. It shouldn’t have, but it had. Had the captain been able to see that? Was that why he had ordered me off the ship? Did he know that I was not up to the task? she asked herself as she landed on her mattress again.
All through the academy, the Leadership series had been the most difficult courses for the young ensign. Math, Computers and Astrogation had come easily. Most were second nature, having spent considerable time aboard ships during her life. Only the decision-making skills had been difficult. Monica Samuels knew this about herself. She had studied Captain Brighton on watch and envied the easy manner in which he gave commands and dealt with problems. He was an officer and a leader and he led his crew. He never over-analyzed the situations the way that she did as a matter of course, he simply acted. What was it that her command instructor had said? “It’s usually better to take the wrong action, quickly, than to make the best possible decision, too late.”
She realized that she not only had to make up her mind quickly, but she had to have a plan in place from which she could act.
Sitting up and taking a deep breath, Monica once again tried processing the information at her disposal into a course of action.
Trust was going to be the most important element, she decided. Without the trust of the other crew, she would be watched constantly and would never have the opportunity to do anything. Obviously, she was not trusted yet. How could she be? she thought. She had had no opportunities to prove herself. She had been escorted here directly from the boatbay and had had no contact with any of the mutineers since. No, I can’t call them mutineers, she thought to herself. That's not how they see themselves. Now she was, technically, one of them. There were still no answers to any of her questions.
Finally, she saw the answer. She had to become one of them. She knew that she could fool anyone with her ability to play a role. Wasn’t the fact that she was here on this ship proof enough of that?
She would need to blend in with the crew. She must do whatever she was required to do to make them trust her, and then take any chances that came along for covert action either to delay the theft of the ship or to get help for the exiles. Of the two considerations, helping the exiles had to be of secondary importance, regardless of her personal feelings on the matter.
Pathfinder was too important to the survival of the Warner Family as a viable government to allow its theft. Pathfinder was a one-of-a-kind prototype that would revolutionize space travel. Whoever controlled this technology would potentially be able to topple governments. The ability to bypass jump points and to jump from anywhere to anywhere else without going through established jump gates was too valuable to lose to another Family. If necessary, she decided, she would have to destroy the ship to keep it away from the mutineers – current owners, she corrected herself.
She began to move along the well-worn track from bed to mirror again, this time with a purpose in mind; to school her appearance to that which the others would expect and to formulate her plans.
Secrecy would be the key to everything. If she were discovered, it could mean her imprisonment or possibly even her death. Of course, that could be what the mutineers had in store for her anyway, regardless of how cooperative she would become.
The continued sobbing from the berth forward reminded her that she had to keep this secret even from Amber, who was her closest remaining friend. She was not sure what had happened to Amber during the takeover. She had always seemed so confident before but the Amber in the cabin next to her now was clearly not strong enough to handle this kind of high-stakes game, and any further stress might well push her over the edge, if she hadn’t already gone over on her own.
Once again, she felt regret for dragging the girl back into this death trap with her. She sat on her bunk and let out a deep sigh.
I don’t have time to just sit here, she chided herself. The ensign stood and moved to the desk once again. If she was to stay alive, she had to take control of Pathfinder away from Teach, Leung and Lamont. In order to do that, she had to have control of the computer. She didn’t know how to accomplish that yet but that only brought Commodore Wellesley’s favorite quotation to mind: "Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do."
After four grueling years in the Academy she had learned a number of things about herself. She was most comfortable when she could work outside of the spotlight. This was probably logical, due to the number of activities in her life which wouldn’t stand up well to the scrutiny of the spotlight.
That wasn’t to say that she folded under pressure. No one could survive the Academy, let alone finish second in her class as she had, with that sort of flaw, but she preferred not to attract notice.
The other reason she had finished near the top of her class was that she was very good at what she did. Whether that was hiding, working, studying, or in this case, hacking.
With that thought in mind, she went to work.
