There was something about this girl that wasn’t quite right. But I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“This could work,” López said.

I just frowned. What was it that left me so uneasy? She was petite and dishevelled. That could have been it. Maybe she released some long dormant caveman instinct inside me to protect her. Who knew. But I was drawn to her. Even as I was conversely wary of her for some reason.

“If she can arm us all, then we could mount a larger attack,” López offered.

“From inside our cells?” I asked, still puzzling over the little stowaway.

She couldn’t really be a stowaway. Aquila would have known he’d had an additional bio sign onboard at liftoff. Which also begged the question, why hadn’t the guards come to investigate when she’d appeared here?

“Grab their arm as they deliver the tray through the hole,” López said. “And then cut the guard’s wrist comm off to use to deactivate the containment field.”

“That could work,” I offered.

The girl could get through hatches that were intended to be invisible. Those types of hatches were for senior engineers only. Maybe the wrist comm she’d stolen was the chief’s. I pushed the image of the chief dead in engineering from my mind. She also had access to a food synthesiser. I glanced down at the ready meal in my hand. This particular ready meal was full of protein and stimulants. Designed for crew level emergencies.

Another tick in the box for her having stolen that wrist comm off a crew member. But wouldn’t Aquila be able to trace it?

“If we’re lucky,” López said, “they’ll serve more than one person at a time, and we could get two wrist comms. Time it right, and they won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Good plan,” I said. “But first she has to get us the knives.”

“You don’t think she’ll manage it? She seemed quite capable to me.”

“She’s barely out of her teens,” I advised. “Probably still in them.”

“Did you look at her? I mean really look at her?” López asked. “She’s been wearing those clothes for days. And the knife? She handled it with confidence. She’s used that knife. Or practised with it. Whatever she’s been through, even if just in the time since Aquila went rogue, it’s toughened her up. That’s no little girl, Captain.”

Was I being told off by my first officer? This was new. Both the first officer and the talking down to.

I grinned at López.

“You’re getting good at this first officer thing,” I said. “Commander Lawrence used to counter the captain, too.”

My smile fell on those last words.

“Damn it,” I muttered and turned away.

López didn’t say anything for a while. I took the time to hide the ready meal in the sink, out of sight of a guard’s observant eyes. I noticed some of the officers nearest me following my lead.

I decided some PT was in order, so got down and started on push-ups. Johnson and Armstrong immediately joined me. López sat in the centre of her cell and stared off into space.

I finished my set and turned to face her.

“Are you going to join us?” I asked her. “Sit-ups. Your favourite.”

She offered me a roll of her eyes and took up position.

“I don’t like thinking about it,” she said as we got to work. She was talking about what happened on the bridge.

“Sometimes it’s better to talk about these things,” I offered.

“What’s there to talk about?” López said. “They’re dead.”

“And we knew them well. And we watched them get killed. And there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it,” I told her.

The commander stopped her set early and let out a harsh breath.

“He was good to me,” she said. “The captain. He…he took an interest in my career. A mentor maybe. I don’t know. But I felt I knew him better than I knew anyone else onboard the ship. I…I miss him. I’m going to miss his quiet words to me every morning.”

I hadn’t noticed the captain doing that. But that was the captain. He was discreet and professional. If he took an interest in López, personally or professionally, he would have made sure to do it quietly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “He was a good man.”

“He was,” López said and then added, “I’m done.” She pushed up and went to the sink, running the water and splashing her face, her back to us.

Anyone at the sink or toilet in their cell deserved privacy. I turned away and looked across the brig. My eyes caught Johnson’s. He and Armstrong had heard every word. He nodded his head to me and finished his set. And then he too went to his sink.

I finished up my routine and just sat there. I felt better, having some food in me, but I wasn’t at peak performance yet. I got up and had a drink. Freshened up and then made the ready meal. God knows how soon they’d feed us next, but I needed the calories now. At any moment, I might have to use them.

The girl would come back with some weapons. And then what? We overpower the guards and get out? But where would we go? Follow her into the tubes, I supposed. She had to be hiding somewhere with a synthesiser. Or maybe she simply ducked out at night and stole food.

She was a problem, but also possibly our saviour. I had no idea how to classify such a person.

I sighed, just as the brig door opened.

In seconds, everyone was on their feet. Ready and waiting. I thought perhaps it was too telling. The starved prisoners able to come to attention so quickly. But the guards, six of them this time, who entered, basically ignored us. I waved a few officers down to the floor, giving them an example of what I wanted.

We’re no trouble. We’re exhausted and starved. No problem here.

The odd officer followed my lead, while some I indicated should remain standing.

One guard pushed the food cart that had been in the brig already out of the door and then returned. Another had a new cart, and two guards started delivering the food to us, one on one side of the brig, the other going down the cells on the other.

Maybe this would be their routine from now on.

No one said a thing. We watched them warily. They barely looked at us.

Good. I checked that the knife was hidden behind me and waited for the guard on my side of the brig to arrive. I pretended I couldn’t stand, forcing him to push the tray in through the containment field near the bottom. It slid along the gel floor, and the access panel closed again.

By the time we’d all been served, even Lieutenant Commander Wilson who, I was relieved to see, was opening his eyes and staring blearily at the officer in the cell next to him, nothing untoward had happened. From either side of the containment fields.

The guards left the empty food cart, checked the containment field settings, and then stomped out of the brig.

We all sat still as if they were listening through the door.

And then I pushed up and went to check the tray.

“High calorie,” I said to the brig at large. “Ideal food for someone who’s been starved. They don’t want us dead.”

“Why not?” Munro said from down her end of the brig.

“Good question,” I replied. “Once I find out, I’ll tell you.”

Munro snorted, checking her own tray. Other’s did too.

“This looks enough for an entire day,” López offered.

“So,” I said, “we can assume meals are going to be regulated. Same time every day.”

“But what is the time?” Johnson asked.

“You want to start counting the seconds off in your head?” I asked, and covered my tray. I was full for now. I’d spread it out. By this time tomorrow, though, I planned for us all to be fighting fit and hopefully fully armed.

“Is that an order, sir?” Johnson asked warily.

López snorted.

“All right,” I said, ignoring Johnson. “Instructions will be coming down the line. Keep your voices low. I don’t think Aquila is monitoring us in here, but best to be careful anyway. Nova, you have the watch.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Munro said. “We have the watch.”

I moved to the cell beside me and issued the whispered orders. By the time everyone had received them, Lieutenant Commander Wilson was eating selectively off his food tray and sitting up.

He looked like shit. But he was alive. If I could keep them all that way tomorrow, I’d be impressed.

Something told me, though, that was a tall order.

A hell of a lot rested on the mystery girl.