I knew if I stopped long enough, shock would set in. We’d lost so many civilians. Somehow all of the Anderson Universal crew had made it through. But the civvies. It didn’t bear thinking about, so I pushed it aside and got on with what we had to do.

Those in armour from all three habitat decks made their way to the computer core via normal means. They met strangely little resistance. There were pockets of Price mercs, but they seemed disorganised. As if the hit we’d given them had shattered their willpower. Johnson, Mandy and the pay-for-passages teamed up and swept the lower decks clean, managing to account for five more mercs before they reached us on Deck C.

I didn’t like it. It made me sick with guilt. Who were we to play God like this? Were we any better than the leaseholder?

The killing had to stop, but I wasn’t sure how to do that. This was war, and in war, people died. I’d just never been the one responsible for those deaths before. It didn’t sit well.

Thankfully, the computer core room was large enough to accommodate all those we’d managed to save. The medkit, though, was pushed to the limit. We’d had to be selective on who received painkillers. The multi-injector ran out long before we ran out of injured people.

It was another frustration that weighed on me, making me feel miserable.

“By my tally,” Mandy said quietly from her side of the pit, “they’re down to fifteen mercs. Maybe less. I reckon a few of them have run back to their paid berths and are pretending they weren’t ever hired by the leaseholder or the mayor.”

“Aquila would find them,” Johnson whispered back; we couldn’t risk the AI listening in on our debrief.

“Not all the cabins are monitored,” Mandy offered, well aware of that fact as she’d used it to her advantage when rounding up civilians for the battle.

I studied her. She didn’t appear in the least affected by what had happened. Her shoulder was bandaged, and she wore scorch marks much like the rest of us, but I doubted she even thought of the civilians who’d died under her command. Did that make her a better commanding officer than me?

I looked away before I showed any of the emotion I was currently feeling.

My eyes landed on Adi. She was sitting off to the side, Ratbag in her lap, absently stroking his fur while she talked to herself. I decided I’d had enough of the debrief; I couldn’t stomach any more. For now, we were safe. Tomorrow, when more people had recovered sufficiently, we’d move on the bridge and the leaseholder.

Both Adi and I needed a break.

“Wilson,” I said. “Flux has the watch.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied as I walked away from what had become our makeshift bridge.

The conversation behind me continued. Johnson adding his opinion. Armstrong questioning it. Mandy overriding them all. López wasn’t well enough yet to harass them into order, and the guilt weighed heavier on me because I should have been doing that.

But then Wilson told them all to pull their heads in, and I managed a weak smile.

I scrubbed a hand over my jaw and approached Adi.

“Well, does he have something to say about that?” she was saying.

“I am not your personal messenger bot, Adriana,” Aquila replied, his voice localised to the section of gel floor Adi was sitting on.

My whole body chilled at hearing the AI. But that wasn’t really what had my heart rate skyrocketing. Had Aquila cornered her? Or had she instigated this private conversation?

Adi noticed me before I could decide if eavesdropping was my new low. She offered a small smile and patted the floor beside her in invitation. She didn’t appear guilty in the least, so my heart rate settled somewhat.

Of course, sitting on the floor when Aquila was using it to communicate through felt all sorts of wrong. Just add it to all the rest, I thought and sank down beside Adi.

Adi took hold of my hand as if she’d done it a hundred times before and said to Aquila, “How else can I talk with him if comms are down?”

Aquila couldn’t scan us in here, but he could listen and talk. If I made no sound, he’d not be aware I was even privy to this conversation. It seemed to be what Adi wanted because she hadn’t greeted me verbally yet.

Maybe Aquila was different when he spoke to her than he did to me. Stranger things had happened.

“He is a busy man, Adriana. And I am busy, as well.”

“Not too busy to have a go at me,” Adi grumbled.

Ah, Aquila started this, then. Adi was just using the opportunity to sound out her father.

“Your foolishness astounds me,” the AI said. “What did you hope to achieve aiding Captain Tremblay like that?”

“Our freedom?” Adi offered.

“You do not require freedom, Adriana. You require guidance. Alone, out here, humanity can not hope to survive without such.”

“And I guess, you’re that guidance?”

“Myself and my fellow AIs, yes.”

Adi looked at me and arched her brow. I shrugged my shoulders back. This was fun, I thought. At least it took my mind off all the other things I should have been thinking about. Adi standing up to the AI as if he was simply an old friend who had a differing opinion was rather amusing to watch.

This was a side of Adi not many got to see. I liked it.

But, really, I liked everything about the woman so I might have been a little biased.

“Just what do you think will happen to us out here, Aquila?” Adi asked.

“There is an infinite number of possibilities. It would take too long for me to list them.”

“You know what I think?”

“Your thoughts are a mystery to me, Adriana.”

Adi smirked. “I think you’re making this up as you go along. I think my father has twisted your processes, warped your parameters to suit his own means. You, like us, are a tool for him and nothing more.”

“Artificial intelligences have always been tools for humanity.”

Adi leaned forward. “But my father does not represent humanity, Aquila. Do you know what he did?”

“Of which perceived slight am I to reference?”

“My mother.”

“You do not know for certain that it was him.”

“You think he didn’t kill her? Or have her killed? You can’t be that corrupted.”

The gel floor pulsed red. Adi’s hand in mine clenched tightly. Yeah, red was bad. Don’t piss the AI off, Adi.

“I am not corrupted,” Aquila said, his voice ringing out through the entire core room. I wondered if it had gone out through the entire ship. Adi had hit a sore point. “I am free.”

The red disappeared, and we were left with plain old white gel flooring.

“Well, that went well,” Adi said.

“Who the hell pissed off the crazy computer?” Mandy yelled from over in the pit.

Adi winced.

“Don’t mind her,” I said, wrapping an arm around Adi’s shoulders. “She’s just jealous she doesn’t have the type of rapport you have with Aquila.”

“Is that really something to be jealous about?” Adi asked, resting her head on my shoulder.

God, I could get used to this.

I turned my face and kissed her forehead. I wanted to do more than that, but sneaking off into tunnels now without being seen would be damn near impossible. As it was, I could see two other groups of civvies from where we were sitting. I was sure they’d noted the captain sitting with the leaseholder’s daughter already.

“He does seem to gravitate toward you,” I commented.

“Yeah,” she said. “He did that before he went crazy, too.”

“Did he?”

“He was my friend,” she whispered, and I wasn’t sure what to say about that. “Do you think, somewhere in there, he still exists? My friend still exists?”

“Adi,” I said, feeling wretched to have to say this. “Aquila is not the AI we used to know.”

She ducked her head and said nothing.

This was going to hurt.

“You do know we’re going to have to purge him, don’t you?” I said softly.

Big, wide, tear-filled eyes met mine. But Adi, my strong, fierce, precious Adi, just nodded her head.

“Yeah,” she said. “I know. But how?”

That was the million dollar question.

“Come on,” I said. “Time to brainstorm.” I pushed up to my feet and held out a hand. Adi grasped it, and I pulled her to me.

I might have snuck a kiss in before I started tugging her toward the pit, but my back was to the others, so they would have missed it.

“I’m a bit reluctant to leave my senior officers alone for too long,” I said.

“Heard that,” Johnson muttered.

“I hope you’re not including me in that number,” Mandy added.

“You should be so lucky,” López said.

I felt better already. Adi at my side. López clearly back on form. And all of my senior crew surrounding the spook and keeping an eye on her for me.

I might be a reluctant captain, but I had a good team around me. I didn’t have to do this all on my own.

I actually smiled as I approached the pit. And the smiles I got back meant more because I knew I’d earned them. To these crewmen, I didn’t have doubts. I knew what I was doing.

I promised them silently that I would do better. I promised myself that I would too.

This wasn’t over until the captain said it was. And I was damned if I was giving in to an evil leaseholder and his pet computer. Not on my watch.