We’d been on duty for sixteen hours. Third shift had replaced second an hour ago. But still, first shift bridge crew worked on the jump point problem.

Worked on it without little success to show for the gruelling effort.

“Aquila,” Captain Moore called. “Run a diagnostic on the weapons firing system.”

“Yes, Captain,” Aquila said. Even the AI sounded tired.

Or that was just me, and I was hearing things.

The weapons systems firing solutions were used to fire the jump point beacons into space. It was something I should have suggested twelve hours ago. I rubbed a hand across my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

As Chief Tactical Officer, it should have been the first thing I checked. Frustration gnawed at my insides as I accepted the captain’s unspoken reprimand. I straightened my spine and looked at what Aquila was reporting.

“Firing solutions systems are operating within normal parameters,” I announced.

The fact that there wasn’t a problem there didn’t mean I’d failed to do my job to its fullest.

I felt a little ill at that.

“All right,” Captain Moore said. “We start all over again. Run ship-wide diagnostics, Aquila.”

“Yes, Captain.”

No one objected. Our lives and the lives of those in our fleet, not to mention the three fleets that followed behind us, depended on us working this out. But we needed to look at this from a different angle. So far we’d meticulously gone over anything that related to jumping. If nothing obvious had appeared the first time we ran diagnostics on the appropriate systems, then the fault was likely not obvious.

Or, I thought frantically, it was not connected to the various jump systems directly. Maybe a different system that intersected one of the jump's systems on rare occasions. Or, my mind reluctantly supplied for me, an essential system that diverted Aquila’s attention long enough for the fault to be actioned and the evidence to be masked before Aquila even knew what had hit him.

It would take a power-hungry critical system to achieve that. These AIs were capable of carrying out hundreds, if not thousands, of tasks simultaneously.

And there was only one system that could disrupt that.

I searched through the log for the life support system and found it within minutes of starting.

I stood before my station and stared at the line of code that had disrupted the air filtration system to such a degree that Aquila had to divert power and bypass all non-essential systems to correct it. The code had been recorded automatically; a subroutine that Aquila did not need to monitor. If he searched deep enough, he would have found it. And he was likely to find it in the ship-wide diagnostics he was running.

But I’d found it first. And I did not like the thought processes that had brought me to this conclusion.

I noted the timestamp and then brought the log up for the jump’s various systems. I found a match in the jump point beacon’s subroutines. The jump failed because the beacon failed, and the best way to make that happen would be to disrupt the beacon’s activation or action subroutines.

With a sickening stomach, I found the corruption. It had been hidden well and would likely have been overlooked if you didn’t know the exact time the hack had occurred.

I stared at the two anomalies side by side and knew this was not a natural occurrence.

“Captain,” I said. There must have been something in the tone of my voice because both the captain and the first officer approached my station immediately.

I met Captain Moore’s eyes; aware Commander Lawrence was already reading the data on my screen.

“I’ve found an anomaly that distracted Aquila; long enough to allow someone to hack the beacon’s subroutines and cover their tracks afterwards.”

Captain Moore held my gaze a moment longer and then looked down at the logs I’d brought up, and the lines of code and date stamps I’d highlighted.

He said nothing for a moment.

Then, “Aquila. Can you trace these codes?”

“I am trying, Captain. But they are complex and will take some time.”

“If we correct the anomaly now,” Moore asked, “will the person or persons responsible know we’re on to them?”

“I believe so, Captain. There is a complicated triggering algorithm attached to both codes.”

“They booby-trapped them?” Commander Lawrence murmured, horrified.

“The trigger system is complicated, Commander,” Aquila said. “But its purpose is simple. It would activate an alarm.”

“Where?” the captain demanded.

“Unknown. I can confirm the signal is not powerful enough to make it off the ship.”

“So, this is a localised threat,” Moore said, looking at his first officer.

“At least we can assume it’s origin is localised, sir,” she replied. “But the sphere of its influence is much larger than just this ship.”

“Because no other ship in the fleet can jump without us,” Moore concluded.

“Why would they want to stop us jumping?” I asked.

Moore shook his head. “Too many variables.”

He looked back down at my viewscreen.

“This stays on the bridge,” he said. “We do not touch those codes until Aquila has been able to trace their origin and we’ve found the culprit.”

“Yellow alert, Captain?” Lawrence asked.

Moore thought about that for a moment.

“It would send a message that may tip them off,” he reluctantly said. “We’ve been stood down from yellow alert for two shifts now, to raise our status would be, I fear, too obvious.”

“Yes, sir.”

Captain Moore looked at me and nodded his head.

“Good work, Lieutenant Commander,” he said. “That was some devious thinking. We’ll make a captain out of you yet.”

“Captains think deviously, sir?” I asked.

He grinned at me. “Every damn day, son.”

He returned to his command chair and then said aloud, “Stand down first shift. Report to your stations at 0700 hours tomorrow. Third shift. You have the bridge.”

It was going to take Aquila some time to trace those codes. Perhaps as long again as we’d been on duty. It made sense to stand us down. But I disliked the knowledge that we hadn’t rectified the problem before the captain dismissed us. We had, though, completed his orders. We knew why this jump failed.

At least, we knew what had caused its failure. We didn’t, I corrected myself as I walked off the bridge dog-tired, know why someone had tampered with the jump in the first place.

What possible reason could they have to prevent us from reaching New Earth? Everyone onboard this vessel, and I warranted all of the others, wanted desperately to reach our destination and start rebuilding what we’d lost.

So, why had someone stopped us from getting there? Was it for blackmail purposes? Hold us to ransom over the malfunctioning beacon? A pay-for-passage passenger that wanted to claim a better place for themselves in our new society before we got there? Was this the start of a revolution?

I was sure Captain Moore was thinking of all these possible explanations and of much more I hadn’t yet had the gall to consider. But no yellow alert meant no extra security. I assumed the captain would speak with the chief of security before retiring. But it wasn’t my place to follow up on such things and to second guess our commanding officer.

So, with reluctance, I tried to clear my mind of the captain’s responsibilities and concentrated on my own. Tactical. If we were about to contend with some form of passenger revolt, we needed an action plan.

I skipped the mess hall and went straight to my quarters. At the very least, I’d have a report to give Captain Moore by 0700. And a plan of action for every possible scenario I could think of.

That didn’t involve standing us at yellow alert.