The captain nodded his head grimly as he read my tactical recommendations.

“This is very thorough, Lieutenant Commander,” he said. “I think we’ll go with Action Plan Alpha. It provides an adequate amount of cover over the maximum number of potential outcomes.”

He placed his thumbprint beside the plan in question, approving it. And then handed the datapad back to me and added, “Execute on my orders.”

“Yes, Captain.”

I saluted and spun on my heel, walking across the bridge directly to Lieutenant Drake. The chief security officer straightened upon spotting my trajectory.

“Sir?” he said as I neared his station.

“New orders,” I said. “Execute Action Plan Alpha without delay.”

The lieutenant scanned the detailed security and response plan I’d spent the better part of last night outlining. I lacked sleep in a big way, but I felt a damn sight better now that I knew we would be prepared for any possible attack on command.

“Understood, sir,” he said, looking as grim as the captain right then. He looked back down at the datapad as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading.

“Lieutenant?” I queried. Better to get any confusion out of the way now, before we were neck deep in the action plan and someone was hurling plasma in our faces.

“Sir?” he said, uncertainly. And then he rushed to say, “Is there really a chance that someone will mutiny?”

“I don’t know about a mutiny, Drake,” I said. “More likely a civilian revolt, but we can’t be sure. Something’s definitely going on, though.” I tapped the datapad I’d given him with the approved plan on it. “This is precautionary.”

He nodded his head.

“Understood, sir. I’ll personally deliver the individual orders to my team.”

“Very good,” I replied and returned to my station.

Everything else looked in order, and although Aquila hadn’t been able to trace the origin of the corruption code yet, he had told us at the beginning of first shift that he was getting closer. We expected an answer to that mystery within the hour.

In the meantime, we were taking precautions.

“Aquila,” I said, as I watched the chief of security close his station and turn towards the door to the bridge.

He’d get the ball moving without anyone outside of the command structure aware that we were mobilising for defence of the flight deck, core personal and essential systems.

It took a second for me to realise that Aquila had not answered.

I flicked a glance down at my station. Everything seemed in order. No alarms.

“Aquila?” I tried again.

The screen flickered. My head whipped around toward Lieutenant Drake as he approached the bridge door.

It was like watching an action movie. Everything slowed down, so every single detail came into sharp focus. I could hear the thump of my heart in my chest, the rush of blood through my ears. Taste something metallic on my tongue.

Lieutenant López was the first officer, other than myself, to register a problem.

“Captain?” she called out as Drake activated the bridge door.

We weren’t armed. None of us was. Not yet. It was part of the action plan, and by the time security had been activated by Drake, the bridge would have been ready.

But Drake was standing by the now opening bridge door, and we hadn’t had time to release the locks on the bridge armoury.

As prepared as we could have been, given a few more minutes, at that moment we were entirely unprotected.

The captain turned away from the discussion he was having with Commander Lawrence.

The first plasma shot hit him in the forehead.

López screamed. My mouth ran dry.

A knife pierced Lieutenant Drake’s right eye.

Commander Lawrence dived to the side. The plasma shot hit her left knee, obliterating the bone and flesh, and leaving her leg hanging on by bloody tendon strings. She screamed. It would haunt my nightmares.

Three, four, eight, ten Price security officers, in full armour, stormed the bridge. Plasma pistols aimed at all of our heads. López was crying. Johnson at the helm had his hands up. Armstrong at navigation was doing the same. Lawrence was moaning on the floor beneath the main viewscreen.

An armoured man stomped across the bridge and looked down at the commander. And then he casually lifted his plasma gun and shot her in the head.

I jerked. Someone screamed. A plasma gun pressed into my side.

“Arms up,” a mechanised voice said.

I raised them slowly, looking into a mirrored faceplate on a merc helmet that showed me absolutely nothing I wanted to see.

Cowards.

Minutes. That’s all we’d needed. Minutes to activate the plan fully. To arm the bridge crew. To have security outside in the corridor. Minutes.

We’d had seconds. And it was over. The command chain fractured.

I stared at the commander and captain, who lay side by side, staring blankly at the gel ceiling.

“Aquila,” I whispered and received a punch to my kidneys with the butt of the armoured guard’s rifle at my side.

“No talking,” he snarled.

I tried to breathe.

The guard who had shot Commander Lawrence turned to look at each of us, and then activated the main viewscreen. On it, across Decks A through E, a similar outcome was being effected. Every single command officer of each of the three watches were lying dead. Plasma shot to the forehead. In engineering, the chief lay in a pool of blood, a power torch in his hand.

He’d tried to fight back.

I felt sick. López was trying not to cry too loudly. Johnson looked green.

“This is how things will go,” the armoured man standing over the captain and commander said. “You’ll not resist us, and we won’t be forced to kill you. Life is precious,” he said, ignoring the death that surrounded him. “We value it. But we are prepared to end it if necessary.”

He took his time looking at each one of us.

“There is no first shift any longer,” he said. “There is no second or third. You work for Nathan Price now.”

Jesus Christ, it was the leaseholder. Why?

“Those of you holding the rank of second lieutenant or higher will be escorted to the brig.”

I felt hollow. I should have done something. Anything. I should have fought back.

“Those of you holding the rank of midshipman will be confined to quarters.”

López had stopped crying. She stared straight ahead unseeing.

I tried to catch Johnson’s eye. He resolutely looked elsewhere.

I checked the position of the pistol the armoured guard was holding at my side. I could reach for it. Take out him and maybe two others. I could try and get the ringleader. The one who had shot Lawrence and probably had shot the captain.

But then I’d be dead, and the real threat to the ship and the fleet would still be alive.

Nathan Price. The leaseholder.

“Any questions?” the head guard asked. “Good,” he added before anyone could even open their mouths. Not that we had the will to right then. “Your new accommodations are waiting. To ensure a safe transit from here to there, we’ll require you wear wrist restraints. Nothing personal. It’s just business.”

He chuckled. It sounded eerie coming from his armour’s speakers. The rest of the guards started laughing too.

A pack of mechanised hyenas. I clenched my fists.

The guard beside me slapped a wrist restraint on one wrist, cinching it hard.

“Don’t feel too bad, Lieutenant Commander,” he said, wrenching my other arm behind my back to secure it. “You didn’t do anything foolish and get yourself killed. There’s hope for you yet.”

He shoved me between the shoulder blades. I could hear his plasma gun whirring again.

My eyes scanned the bridge. I tried to see if the captain was still breathing. Naively praying he was faking it. He wasn’t. Neither was the commander. Moore, Lawrence and Drake were dead.

I realised as the guards marched us out of the bridge, no more than five minutes after they’d arrived, that I was now the highest ranking officer among us.

And then my stomach revolted, and bile surged up my gullet.

I was now the highest ranking officer onboard the ship.