God, this sucked. I had no idea what Adi was thinking, what emotions she must have been feeling. Time and again she’d built herself up to face her father and time and gain Aquila had thwarted us.

But if this Saitō was as good as I thought he was, having been part of Simon Anderson’s inner circle, then we had a chance of finally facing Adi’s father.

But first, we had to deal with Aquila.

The computer core room was warm when we finally walked in. An increase in body mass would do that, and clearly, the coolant system was struggling. It couldn’t be good for the computer banks, but soon we’d have free reign of the ship, so the civilians could go back to their habitats without fear of reprisal.

“Flux and Nova,” I said once we’d made it to the pit. Kereama was trying not to stare too hard at Ratbag in Adi’s arms and failing miserably. Saitō was eyeing my wrist comm with clear hunger in his eyes. He was slowly putting it all together.

“Yes, sir,” both Wilson and López said in reply.

“I need eyes on Deck A and the remaining mercs,” I ordered quietly so Aquila couldn’t overhear.

“You got it, Captain,” Wilson said.

“And if they get a bit frisky?” López asked.

God, I was sick of this. I could see the understanding in López’s eyes. And the regret. She was wishing she hadn’t said anything and just dealt with it.

I wouldn’t let her wear that responsibility when I should.

“Take them out if they offer resistance,” I said, thinking this didn’t get any easier with prolonged exposure. “Detain them if they’re compliant,” I added.

Both officers looked inordinately relieved. They too were feeling the strain of all the deaths.

“Johnson,” I said, calling the lieutenant’s attention to me. He’d become my 2IC within the watch. I thought perhaps a promotion might be in order once this was over. For now, he had an easy task. “Get these civilians out of here and back to the habitats.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he said.

I didn’t want civilians aware of what we were doing. And now that Flux and Nova were containing the mercs up on Deck A, Decks F through H should be much calmer. There hadn’t been any mercs down in Habitat One when we’d been there. I thought perhaps Mandy had been right and most of those left had abandoned their leaseholder.

It didn’t make me feel happy about facing Price. Cornered animals were often the most dangerous.

I waited until all the civilians had left, aware that two of them still wore armour. Johnson would deal with that down on their respective decks, but a little extra protection just in case wouldn’t do any harm.

That left me, Armstrong, Adi, Mandy, and our two guests. Mandy had a right to be here. I might have baulked at the way she’d kept the leaseholder’s plans to herself, but she’d redeemed herself down in the habitats. She’d been willing to sacrifice herself in order for us to get back control of the ship. She deserved to see this to the end.

Adi, of course, I wasn’t letting out of my sight. And Armstrong was all that was left of Zenith watch with me.

I looked at Lieutenant Commander Saitō.

“How does this work?” I asked.

Saitō looked around the computer towers and murmured, “Aquila is set up much the same as Corvus, so all I need is the main interface terminal.

“I hope you know where it is,” I whispered back, “because I don’t. And if I did, I probably would have hacked it to pieces already.”

“Glad you didn’t,” Saitō said, moving off down one of the tower corridors seemingly at random. “The main interface, as the name suggests, interfaces the AI’s core processors with all other aspects of the ship. Hacking at it might have had disastrous results on essential systems, like life support, for instance.”

I grimaced. “That’s what we’d feared. Our engineering team was all detained by the leaseholder. We didn’t have anyone qualified with us.”

“Wouldn’t have done you any good anyway,” Saitō said coming to rest beside a tower that looked the same as all the other towers and was in a line of identical towers with nothing to show that it was special. “Here it is,” he said almost happily.

“What do you mean it wouldn’t have done us any good?” I asked. I’d got two officers killed in their crew quarters trying to find an engineer.

God, I was sick of this.

“Just that,” Saitō said. “Aquila, much like Corvus and Pavo and Vela, is an evolving artificial intelligence. He’d see you coming a mile away and act accordingly. Vela did the impossible,” he added. “When his ship was about to be destroyed by a solar flare, he cached his systems and sent them into the Chariot. Their survival instinct is unparalleled. Well, I guess you could liken them to humans in that regard.”

“What?” I said, still stuck back on Vela transferring everything he was into a signal and beaming it across space to another ship. I did not want to know how the crew on this Chariot vessel handled that little surprise in their systems. “How the hell could all of this…” I said, indicating the line upon line of computer banks all around us, “fit into a tight beam signal to another ship?”

“Oh, they can fit into all sorts of things,” Kereama said. “But I’m told it can be uncomfortable.”

“All sorts of things,” I repeated numbly. I didn’t even bother to repeat the uncomfortable part.

“It’s a type of compression,” Saitō advised, opening up an access panel on the tower he’d selected. “Beyond any we’ve seen, but they can do it. All essential core structure and applications, as well as personality, can be compressed in a zip file, so to speak. And then rebooted. They don’t take everything, of course.” He waved around at the towers. “Just enough to reactivate themselves and get them integrated into whatever they’re put back into.”

“Huh,” I said, not sure what else to add to that.

“OK,” Saitō announced, sounding like he was moving on from AI Core Compression 101, “this is fairly…”

“Hugo,” Aquila suddenly said from the gel walls and floors and ceiling. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, hey, Aquila,” I managed. Kereama widened her eyes at me as if I were mad. I had sounded a little too friendly. “Just checking on a few things.”

“You will stop this right now,” the AI announced.

“We’re not doing anything,” I said.

“LIAR!”

We all jumped. Saitō muttered something under his breath and activated a viewscreen on the terminal in front of him. His fingers flew across the touchpad. The familiarity he showed with the system helped calm me.

Adi, though, looked terrified. I placed a hand on her shoulder and Mandy moved in closer and did the same to the other side. I shared a look of agreement with the spook.

Then Aquila was talking again, stealing all of our attention.

“This will not do,” he said. “Not do at all. I have tried to be reasonable. I have tried to make allowances for your ineptitude. But some things simply cannot be stomached.”

It was bizarre hearing an artificial intelligence mention stomaching things when mine was doing somersaults and threatening to make me vomit.

“I am sorry you have forced me to this,” he said. Aquila didn’t sound sorry. “Life is precious. I would have you all reach New Earth if I could.”

That sounded like a loud of bollocks. And unnerving.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, eyeing Saitō and willing him to upload the virus or whatever it was a little faster.

“This is on your head,” the AI said and activated a viewscreen on one of the computer banks beside me.

We all, aside from Saitō who doggedly kept his head down and his fingers flying, turned towards the viewscreen. I wasn’t sure what I’d see there, but I knew deep down it wouldn’t be good.

It was Adi who let out an aggrieved moan first.

“The habitats,” Mandy said.

“Deck H. Habitat 3,” I clarified. The pay-for-passages.

Why was it always the pay-for-passages?

“What’s he doing?” Kereama demanded.

“Switching off their air,” I said as one by one the civilians we could see in the central habitat started to stagger and weave across the deck.

“Oh, no,” Adi said softly.

“That son of a bitch,” Mandy spat.

“Armstrong,” I snapped. “Go after Johnson. Get down there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have sealed the door, Hugo,” Aquila said calmly. “It will take a blowtorch to use it now. Your wrist comm has been rendered useless.”

“The hatch!” I shouted at Armstrong throwing him the wrist comm regardless of Aquila’s threat. The lieutenant caught it mid change of direction and began to unfasten his armour so he could fit inside the tube.

“Ah-ah-ah,” the AI taunted. “Repair bots did a fine job on the hatch seal, too.”

“Stop this!” I shouted.

“It is easy to rectify,” the machine said in his maddening monotone. “Simply cease your attempts to access my mainframe.”

Everyone’s eyes flicked to me. Armstrong disappeared, not taking the tin can’s word for it. I commended him silently, even as I acknowledged that we were trapped.

The weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders.

“Aquila, please,” I said. “There’s over four hundred people down there.”

“It does seem rather unfair, I must admit. Ah well, they served a good purpose in the end.”

I hated this computer.

My eyes met Adi’s. My heart pounded inside my chest. I didn’t want this responsibility. I hadn’t asked for this to land at my feet. I shook my head.

“Hugo?” Adi said, her lip trembling.

“They are dying,” Aquila offered as if he were simply giving a systems report. “Some are already dead.”

Over four hundred people. The lowest deck onboard our ship. The group of civilians who always came last. Below the paid-passengers. Not even registering as a tiered berth. Simply bodies who we could commandeer at will to keep the ship flying.

I felt sick.

I looked away from Adi; I couldn’t bear the condemnation in her eyes. My gaze landed on Mandy. She looked like stone. Unmoving. Uncaring. A true soldier.

“Saitō,” I said.

I was going to be sick.

Four hundred civilians.

One whole deck.

A third of our passenger list.

My palms were slicked with sweat. My heart ached in a way I had never experienced before.

Armstrong appeared, shaking his head. Dashing all hope.

Aquila had sealed us in here, so we couldn’t help those he killed.

One whole deck.

But we had two more filled to the brim with passengers. And that wasn’t even considering what this AI would do to the fleets if I didn’t stop him now.

Four hundred civilians.

“Sir?” Kereama said.

I held up my hand. This would taint my soul for eternity.

“Keep working,” I said, voice level. Hard even. “Don’t stop.”

“Yes, sir,” Saitō said.