Chapter 25: What It Means To Be A Captain [I]

Leo rested his hands flat against the crystal cradles.

The smooth surface didn’t bite into his skin with raw static anymore... It yielded, taking his body heat and returning a steady pulse that felt less like an electrical shock and more like an extension of his own spine.

’I’m good...’

Through the neural link, the Wanderer-7 settled into his mind without a single tremor.

The old sputtering hauler with its screaming attitude thrusters, grinding gears and dry pneumatic seals was gone... In its place sat an iron predator.

There was no shuddering of loose deck bolts, no dry wheeze of an oxygen pump gasping for air.

The new Graventhal hull was one unbroken skin as the twin ion drives at the stern hummed at a flawless frequency and the twelve thrusters along the bow, stern and belly waited for a twitch of his pulse.

He could feel the weight of the whole ship... twenty thousand tonnes of dense plating were balanced on the tips of his fingers.

On the bridge, nobody spoke.

Nobody even tapped a boot against the deck as the faint blue glow of the new runners washed over the smooth bulkheads.

’Let’s get off this rock,’ Leo thought.

The drift caught him in the small of his back as he simply willed the ship to rise.

THOOM!

The ventral thrusters fired as the ship lifted straight up off the powdery grey floor of the crater with a terrifying fluid ease, and the crushed white bones of the worms and the smoking, shredded torso of the Brood-Mother shrank beneath the belly cameras in an instant.

The grey stone dropped away into the dark until the crater became a dent, then a circle, then a jagged smudge on the frozen curve of the dead moon.

Leo leaned forward with his mind.

The ion drives flared behind them in a pale turquoise plume as the Wanderer-7 surged out past the shattered ribs of the lunar crust and shot into the clear black sea of deep space.

It was effortless... like slicing a hot razor through chilled butter.

HISS!

A soft deadpan tone chimed through the bridge speakers.

[The Master Captain has successfully completed an ascent that did not shear off the landing gear or collide with any stationary bedrock... This unit extends its deepest, most mechanical astonishment. The local asteroid belt mourns the loss of an easy target, though its expectations for your future incompetence remain reasonably high.]

Harper let out a faint snort from the vanguard station.

Her freckled face was smudged with dried moon dust and black grease and her dirty-blonde hair was stiff with sweat, but the corners of her mouth ticked up just a millimeter.

’Leave it to the tin can to ruin a clean takeoff...’ she thought, slumping back into her seat.

Leo ignored the machine as his eyes tracked the forward vector through the crystal-clear canopy.

The stars didn’t flicker out here.

They just hung there, hard and unblinking, scattered across the dark like cracked diamonds on black velvet... and behind them, the battered silhouette of Kestrel-9 shrank into a needle of dead iron before the shadow of the moon swallowed it whole.

CHIME!

The master interface flickered, throwing a stack of blue brackets across the center of the viewport.

[Vessel Diagnostic: Assault Corvette (Vessel Tier 2)]

[Hull Integrity: 100% (Graventhal Alloy Active)]

[Primary Fusion Output: 100%]

[Atmospheric Reserve: 14 Days, 00 Hours, 00 Minutes]

[Consumable Rations: Emergency Sustenance Stores Online]

[Internal Spatial Reconfiguration: Completed]

[Notice to biological occupants... The mid-deck corridor has been reconfigured and the communal sleeping pit has been decommissioned. In accordance with standard non-barbaric naval architecture, six individual crew quarters have been built along the central spine, complete with private barriers and standard bunks... The room at the very end of the corridor belongs to the Master Captain, assuming he does not trip on his own boots while trying to find it.]

Camila glanced up with her hazel eyes wide with one hand still resting on the dead shield strip at her collar.

’Private rooms...’ she thought, her chest rising with a long trembling breath. ’A real bed... no more iron floor...’

[Furthermore,] the AI continued with agonizing indifference, [an auxiliary kitchen now exists beside the secondary life support manifold... A small amount of real Earth food has been materialized and placed in the chillers. Flour, salt, sealed legumes and vegetable fats. This unit strongly advises against eating raw flour, but if a crew member possesses cooking skill above that of a blind rodent, fire may be applied.]

Elena scoffed softly from the maintenance station as she crossed her long legs and leaned back with an icy tilt of her chin.

Her blonde hair had come loose from its pins and her fair cheeks were streaked with soot but she still managed to look like she was sitting in a private box at the opera.

’Real food...’ she thought, her fingers digging into the seams of her trousers. ’Not that grey sludge from the survival kits... Actual salt...’

PSSH!

The restraints holding Leo’s wrists hissed softly as they withdrew into the armrests of the throne, the locks around his boots clicking open with a dull thump as, across the lower deck, the four-point harnesses holding the girls retracted into their seats.

[Flight parameters are stable along cruise vector Beta-9... Autopilot will hold the drift. Biological units are advised to perform maintenance on their fragile brains before exhaustion makes them delirious. This unit will watch the perimeter. Should an apex predator, an energy anomaly, or the consequences of your collective poor life choices appear within range, a siren will be played directly into your ears with zero regard for your feelings. You may disperse!]

Leo sat still for two seconds, letting his fingers peel off the cool crystal as the deep hum of the fusion core vibrated up through his heels.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose... The exhaustion settled into his shoulders like lead.

"You heard the box," he said, his voice rough from the dust they’d breathed down in the station. "Up, We’re done for today."

Nobody cheered and nobody made a joke about sleeping for three days.

They just stood up slowly, their boots clicking softly against the deck as they filed down the three steps from the mezzanine as their charcoal uniforms were caked in dried purple ichor and grey moon ash.

Harper’s knuckles were scraped raw where she’d gripped her rifle, Camila’s fingers were still trembling, Jin-Ah kept her chin up but her eyes were glassy and her jaw was locked tight.

Chloe walked with her head down with her dark bangs hiding her whole face and her thin arms crossed tight over her chest.

Elena kept two steps of distance between herself and everyone else, refusing to let her shoulders slump... while Ms. Tachibana walked last with measured quiet steps, her wire-rimmed glasses folded neatly into her breast pocket.

Leo fell in at the back of the line with his hands shoved into his pockets.

The bridge hatch didn’t screech on dry hinges anymore.

SWOOSH!

It slid aside and opened onto a wide, softly lit corridor that hadn’t existed three hours ago.

The walls were smooth matte grey, warm to the touch, with amber runners along the floor casting long gentle shadows that chased away the cold terror of the vacuum outside.

Six doors lined the hall, three on the left and three on the right, each with a small panel set at eye level.

At the very end stood a bigger door marked with the faint blue crest of the Master Captain.

Halfway down the hall, an open archway on the left showed the gleaming steel counters and empty racks of the brand-new kitchen.

The girls stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked at the doors and Jin-Ah moved first.

Her fingers brushed the panel of the first door on the left and it chimed softly, flashing a scan across her palm before it slid open.

"I need to run the diagnostic logs in private," she said, her voice sounding flat and tightly controlled, not looking back. "It’s been a long day..."

She stepped inside and the door slid shut behind her with a soft click.

Camila took the second door on the left.

Her fingers hovered over the sensor for a second, her shoulders hitching as she looked back at Harper with a tired fragile attempt at a smile.

"I’m retiring," she whispered, clutching her elbows. "I can’t... I just need to sit down for a minute."

The door opened, took her in and sealed itself shut.

Harper stopped at the third door on the left, right across from the kitchen arch.

She rested her hand on the frame with her back to Leo. Her shoulders looked broad under her uniform but the usual bounce in her step was gone.

"Don’t stay up all night staring at the dials, Cap," she muttered, her voice thick and muffled by her collar. "I’m turning in. Long day..."

She slipped inside before Leo could answer, and the lock clicked behind her.

On the right side of the hall, Chloe stood frozen outside the first room.

She looked tiny against the heavy door as her green eyes darted toward Leo for a fraction of a second... landed on his neck, right where her fangs had been, and dropped straight to the tips of her boots.

"I’m... going to rest," she whispered, barely audible over the hum of the vents. "Goodnight."

She vanished into the dark of her room, the latch clicking shut, and the memory of her fangs in his throat seemed to follow her through the door like a weight on the back of her neck.

Elena didn’t hesitate at the second door on the right.

She slapped her palm against the sensor and paused only long enough to throw a cold sharp sideways glance at Leo.

Her face was pale and the haughty sneer was gone, leaving nothing but a hollow, exhausted brittleness around her mouth.

"I expect the environmental filters to be maintained without my supervision," she said coldly, her chin lifting. "Do not disturb me... It has been an intolerable day."

She stepped through and the door hissed shut.

...That left only Ms. Tachibana.

She stood outside the last room on the right, the one right next to Leo’s, and turned to face him as the amber light traced the curve of her jaw and the dark silk of her hair slipping loose from its tortoiseshell pin.

Her eyes were steady but Leo could see the hairline cracks under them... the weight of a teacher who had just led six of her students through a slaughterhouse in the stars.

"You handled the ascent well, Leo," she said softly, in that quiet measured voice that always made his pulse hitch.

She gave him a small faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "You should rest... You’ve carried more than your share today, I’m retiring as well."

"Get some sleep, Sensei," Leo said quietly.

She nodded once and stepped into her room, and the door slid into place with a soft thump.

The corridor was suddenly empty.

Leo stood alone in the middle of the hall as the silence rushed back in to fill the space, the amber runners humming along the floor and the smell of fresh paint drifting out of the kitchen.

CLICK.

A small speaker grille in the ceiling crackled right above his head.

[For the psychological comfort of the biological units, all personal quarters have been fitted with multi-layered acoustic seals... Sound transmission between rooms is rated at zero decibels, Total privacy is guaranteed so proceed to your quarters, Master Captain.]

Leo didn’t answer the machine.

He stood with his boots planted on the runner and his hands in his pockets, staring at the heavy door at the end of the hall with the blue crest on it.

His room... His bed...

Four walls where nobody would look at him, where nobody would ask him what the plan was, where nobody would wait for him to pull another miracle out of a golden wheel.

Leo didn’t move toward it though. He just stood there, breathing evenly through his nose as the fusion core purred three decks below.

’I know what’s going to happen next...’

Then the sound came... It started in the middle of the left wall, behind Harper’s door.

It was faint at first, a small muffled hitch of breath, barely louder than the hum of the vents... and then it cracked.

A low ragged sob tore through the paneling, followed by the dull rhythmic thud of a fist hitting a mattress.

THUD... THUD... THUD...

Harper.

The girl who had laughed while she pumped tungsten into the mouth of a twelve-meter worm, who had cracked jokes about espresso while her hands bled on the charging handle, was crying with her face buried in a pillow with the sobs coming out in jagged desperate gasps that rattled the frame of her door.