It was a strange feeling standing on the bridge when Jameson was not and everyone looking to me for orders. I tried not to notice the doubt in their eyes; the questions there that spoke of incredulity. I could hardly blame them. Until recently, I’d been a pay-for-passage, and then a second lieutenant. And now Jameson’s 2IC.

It didn’t make any sense to me, why would it make any sense to them?

“Your orders, Commander?” Chan asked.

Orders. As if I knew what to do now.

Jameson had been taken to the medbay, along with Lieutenant Taylor. It didn’t look good for Taylor, but mentioning that right now didn’t seem helpful. The Mercs were still trussed up in the corner. Archibald and the deceased had at least been removed. The bridge was a mess; blood splatters everywhere, consoles still smoking.

We looked battered and bruised, exactly as we were feeling. Archibald had almost won. But he hadn’t.

“Take those Mercs to the brig, Lieutenant,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

I wasn’t sure if he agreed with the captain about my sudden rise to first officer, but Chan was military through and through, and he knew how to follow orders. Jameson had told him directly that I was now commander, so Chan was acting on that directive.

Jameson had not, however, told anyone else on the bridge of my new position.

I waited until Chan and his security team had escorted the mercs out of the bridge and then made myself meet every eye left.

“OK,” I said, hardly reassuringly commanding. “We need communications. Lieutenant Marshal?”

She looked at me and then at Lieutenant Childs. I placed the most authoritative look on my face that I could muster and said, “Now, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marshal said softly and turned her attention to her busted console.

“Lieutenant Childs,” I said.

“Yes. Ma’am.” There was a pause there, but I wasn’t going to address it now. Not yet. They didn’t know me. And we had more important things to deal with.

“Get second shift tactical and helm in here to cover, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” This time there wasn’t a pause as if the command made sense and she didn’t feel the necessity to argue.

I looked at the captain’s seat and considered sitting in it. In the end, I couldn’t take that step. It was probably the wrong thing to do; the more I acted like I belonged here, the better. The problem was I didn’t believe it. I just had to hold it together until Jameson was back or could appoint a new 2IC. I considered my commission a temporary one.

And on that note, I pinged Doctor Medina in the medbay from the ops table.

“Ana,” he said in greeting. “Any chance you’re returning sometime soon?”

“To the medbay?”

“Where else is there?”

I smiled. I wasn’t sure it was believable just yet.

“No, Doctor. Jameson promoted me to first officer. My place is on the bridge. For now.”

Medina didn’t show a reaction, but he did glance over his shoulder; I assumed at Jameson.

“Is he awake?” I asked.

“Plasma shot nicked his kidney. I had to operate to stop the bleeding. Anaesthesia won’t wear off for another hour or so. I’m using the time to heal some ribs. Archibald did a number on him.”

“He did a number on a lot of people,” I murmured.

Medina held my gaze on the viewscreen.

“Ana,” he started. “Commander,” he corrected. “May I offer a piece of advice?”

“Of course,” I said. The doc had always been straight with me, right from when I first stepped into the medical bay.

“If Jameson’s placed you in charge, then you need to be in charge. I’ve known John for a decade or more, and he doesn’t make decisions lightly.”

I offered a smile that was more a grimace and said, “Let me know when he’s conscious.”

“Depends whether you want conscious and in command of his faculties, or conscious and no help to anyone.”

“I’ll take whatever you can give me,” I said.

He opened his mouth, no doubt to offer some more words of wisdom, but I signed off before he could voice them.

Two AU crewmen entered the bridge, dragging my attention away from the blank screen.

“Childs,” one of them said. “What the hell’s been happening?”

Lieutenant Childs looked across the bridge at me and said nothing.

“Are you second shift helm and tactical?” I asked.

“Who wants to know?” one of them said.

I walked out from the ops area and crossed to the captain’s chair.

“Commander Kereama,” I said, holding his narrow-eyed stare.

“I don’t know any Commander Kereama,” he sneered, "and your insignia says you’re nothing more than a second lieutenant.”

“Commander Torrence is dead,” I said, hoping to shock him into silence.

“Still don’t know you,” the guy said and looked at Lieutenant Childs. “Childs?”

She bit her lip and looked toward Marshal for support, unwilling to say what was obviously on her mind; that they thought the captain had made a mistake or that I was taking liberties that weren’t mine to take.

“Pavo,” I said, raising my voice. “Replay Captain Jameson’s command.”

“Yes, Commander,” Pavo said in a fine imitation of his previous robotic voice. A viewscreen in the gel ceiling started lowering and on it appeared Jameson’s instructions to Pavo on the datapad from earlier.

I have just promoted Second Lieutenant Ana Kereama to First Officer. Please update the log.

The officer stared at me and shook his head. “That means nothing. Anyone could have written that. Where’s the voiceprint confirmation?”

Shit. Jameson hadn’t had time since Pavo came back online to follow up that order with a voice command.

“Where is the captain?” the other, until now silent, officer asked.

“Medbay, under sedation,” I offered. “Attacked by Damon Archibald and his men.”

“What the hell?” the first guy said. “So, we don’t have a chain of command.”

“You have me,” I snapped.

“Forgive me…Lieutenant, but I don’t know you from squat.”

“I can confirm Commander Kereama’s position as first officer of this ship,” Pavo announced.

“This from a malfunctioning AI,” the guy muttered.

“My systems are operating within acceptable parameters.”

The officer glanced at the crewman who’d walked in with him.

“What choice have we got?” the guy said to him.

The officer shook his head. “We can’t accept anything that thing says as true; it’s broken.”

“I am not broken,” Pavo said. The guy ignored him.

“For now, we check all systems manually. Childs,” he said, authority in his voice. “Navigation status.”

“Running a diagnostic, Lieutenant.”

“Marshal, what’s happening fleet-wide? Any chatter?”

“Comms are down, Lieutenant.”

“Fix it. Baxter, take the helm and see if we get any response. Let’s get everything up and running, people.”

He walked to the tactical station, looked at it for a moment, and then glanced at the captain’s chair. I stood there, feeling superfluous. Feeling useless. Feeling like I had no right to be there. The officer strode across the bridge as if he belonged, and let’s face it, he did. And sat down in the captain’s chair. His eyes met mine.

“What was your role on first shift?” he asked.

I said nothing. I was having trouble not tucking tail and running.

“Something to do with Pavo,” Childs said.

“Well,” the guy mused. “Fat lot of good that will do us; he’s fucked. Go grab us a cup of coffee, Kereama. It’s going to be a long shift waiting for the captain to get back on his feet again.”

He pressed a button on the captain’s chair, dismissing me, and I heard a communications chime go out.

Marshal looked up from her battered console and met my stunned gaze. She offered a small smile, but then returned her attention to repairing fleet-wide communications. Everyone else studiously ignored me.

“This is Lieutenant Commander George Maxwell,” the officer said from the captain’s chair. His voice came out over the ship-wide speakers in the gel ceiling. “All Anderson Universal crew report to stations. Report to stations and standby.”

“Standby for what, Lieutenant Commander?” Pavo asked.

“Never you mind, tin can,” the guy said. He glanced over his shoulder. “Kereama! Where’s my coffee?” he snapped.

The gel walls flashed red. And stayed red.

The officer neither noticed nor cared. I just smiled.

More fool him to disregard the tin can.