I stared across the cell to the one next to mine, checking the blue diamond pattern of the containment field. It never wavered. It was rock solid. Whatever was wrong with Aquila was not affecting our safety measures.

In some ways, that was a relief. Life support issues right now on top of everything else was frightening to consider. But not being able to find a chink in the AI’s armour was disturbing.

Half an hour ago, he’d issued orders over the ship-wide comms to the civilians. I could only pray they’d all taken them seriously.

“Aquila,” I tried again for the hundredth time since being locked up in here.

And for the hundredth time, he didn’t answer.

“Is he gone?” López asked in the cell next to mine.

“I doubt it,” I offered. “But if he’s no longer answering direct questions, something’s gone haywire in his programming.”

“Our current location in the brig isn’t enough of a sign that things are haywire onboard ship?” Johnson asked across the hallway.

I rolled my eyes at him.

“The armoured thugs were Nathan Price’s private security force,” I said. “This is a leaseholder coup. I held out hope that Aquila still had some level of command algorithms running. But it’s clear he’s not the Aquila we knew.”

“Did you hear what he sounded like when he said time was up?” Armstrong asked.

“Yeah,” López said, shuddering.

“That so not normal,” Armstrong added.

“None of this normal, moron,” Johnson snapped.

“Enough!” I said, forcing as much authority into my voice as I could manage. “Now’s not the time to fall apart.”

“Well, excuse me, sir,” Johnson said sarcastically, “but when is the time to fall apart?”

“When you no longer wear that uniform, crewman,” I said, standing up.

I looked at those cells that I could see in the brig. Aware everyone incarcerated in here could hear us talking. I raised my voice anyway, just to get the message across.

“We are officers in the Anderson Universal Fleet,” I said. “We trained hard for our positions. We earned this uniform. And I’ll be damned if we degrade ourselves now because of a leaseholder going rogue. We are still AU. And this ship is still AU. No matter what, we do what we’ve been trained to do, and stand strong.”

“But the captain…” López said.

“Was a good man,” I replied. “He was an honourable man. Are you all going to forget your pledge to him and this ship? So easily? Is that who you want to be? Cowards?”

“I’m not a fucking coward,” Johnson snapped.

“Then stop acting like a civvy and start acting like an AU officer.”

He held my stare for a moment and then released a shaky breath of air.

“What do you suggest?” he finally said.

I stared at the gel floor for a second and thought about what I was about to do. I’d been proud when I’d earned my position as chief tactical officer. And prouder still to gain my promotion prior to liftoff to lieutenant commander. I’d never once thought that I’d be in a position to captain a ship so young, though. I had time, I’d thought. The entire journey to New Earth and then some. There were officers above me. Not many. But enough.

It never crossed my mind that I’d be in charge of more people than just those in my tactical team and while standing watch on the bridge on this voyage.

My world had expanded beyond my imagining and conversely, considering where I currently was, shrunk alarmingly.

“I don’t know yet what we’re going to do,” I finally admitted. “I’m open to suggestions. But I do know we have to keep order amongst ourselves. Because when the time comes, and it will come, we’ll need to act. Swiftly. Smoothly. Like a well-oiled machine. Or,” I said, looking at those officers I could see from my cell, “like the AU officers we’ve been trained to be.”

I paused, letting them all think about that.

“Chain of command is important, even in the brig,” I finally said. “The question you have to ask yourself is, are you still an AU officer in here? And will you do what you’ve been trained to do when the time comes?”

“Yes,” several people said. Some even murmured, “Aye, sir.”

“OK,” I said. “So we start brainstorming. And we keep ourselves fit and healthy. I don’t know how long they intend to keep us in here, but we can assume that no matter where they put us, it won’t be ideal. We divide into watches. But we don’t call them shifts. I’m betting certain words will trigger alarms in Aquila’s monitoring subroutines. So, let's go with names that mean nothing to them.”

“How about colours?” Armstrong asked.

“Too obvious,” I said with a shake of the head.

More and more officers were standing up and facing me now. A few more suggestions were thrown out. Then someone said, “Space terms. You know like ‘flux’ or ‘nova’ or ‘zenith.’”

“Perfect,” I said. “Now, who’s the most senior first lieutenant in each of your departments?”

Several people raised their hands.

“Combat experience?” I asked each one.

Lieutenant Wilson in security was an obvious choice. But I didn’t want all the watches to be led by security. We needed a healthy representation of skills across the board. Lieutenant Munro was chosen out of the other possible suggestions; she’d been the next senior in engineering with excellent combat training grades back on Earth. I took lead of the last watch.

“Congratulations,” I said grimly to Wilson and Munro. “You’ve both been promoted to lieutenant commander.”

“Yes, sir,” they said, well aware of what had just landed on their shoulders.

We divided the rest of the officers into watches, spreading skills as evenly as we could manage. That left my first officer. I needed someone who could step up to command if something happened to me. And it was highly likely that something would happen to me.

I could have chosen one of the watch leaders, but I decided to choose someone in my own watch. Change of command would be easier. I looked at Johnson, López and Armstrong. They all looked back at me expectantly. Even Johnson.

López tended to cry when under pressure, but she’d been the first to recognise a problem with Aquila. I’d also trained with her back on Earth. I knew she was quick, smart, and highly observant. She’d topped the comms module at the academy and earned her spot as first shift communications officer. I’m not sure she ever considered herself command material, but I knew given the right incentive she would rise to the challenge.

And the crying thing. Well shit. We all felt the pressure from time to time. And López hadn’t shed a tear since we’d been thrown in here early this morning. In fact, she’d been the one to discuss options with me first. I saw a good officer in the cell next to mine.

“Andrea,” I said.

“Yes, Captain?”

The entire brig froze, and then one by one they let out a breath of air and returned their attention to their watch leaders. Which meant my watch, Zenith, was paying attention to what I said next.

“Congratulations, Commander,” I said, looking López in the eye. I would have, given different circumstances, asked her. But we weren’t in a position where choice was an option. I needed her. The ship needed her. The crew and passengers needed her. “You’ve been promoted to first officer,” I said.

She swallowed thickly and then nodded her head.

“Aye-aye, sir,” she said.

“Then let’s get to work,” I announced. “Zenith will take first watch. The rest of you, exercise and shut-eye. Our time will come. And we will be ready.”

“Yes, Captain!” the entire brig shouted.