The klaxons went off on the bridge with a jarring intensity. What now? I almost said aloud. Red lights flashed within the gel-coated walls. The bridge door clunked and an ominous sign illuminated with the word “lockdown” in glowing letters at head height.

“Status,” I said, keeping my voice level and calm. I wasn’t feeling particularly calm right now, but then I hadn’t felt calm since we’d left Earth.

The sight of Vela exploding into a million shards of light just outside of Earth’s atmosphere threatened to engulf me. I pushed the memory away and looked to my second-in-command.

“An explosion in engineering, sir,” Commander Brecht said.

Camille.

I hit the comm button on my command chair.

“Engineering! Status!” I didn’t sound quite as calm now.

Nothing for several heart palpitating seconds and then Camille’s voice came over the communications systems, her French accent more noticeable than normal.

She was stressed.

“Medical emergency in engineering,” she said. “We’ve lost main boost thrust, Captain.”

The last was for me; the first for our med team. They’d head her way immediately. I wanted to, also. Who’d been hurt?

“Casualties?” I asked.

“One fatality, two serious injuries, several minor.”

One fatality. Only a Frenchwoman could say that and not sound disheartened.

But then again, there was the heavy accent. Camille Rey prided herself on her command of English. Any moment now, the odd French phrase would enter her vocabulary.

She was hurting.

“What are we looking at, Chief?” I asked, getting her concentration back on her engines and off her teammate’s demise.

“Uncertain at this stage, Captain. Engines had been maintaining 115% without any sign of wear. I’ll have to run a diagnostic.”

“How long?”

Silence. No doubt Camille was looking around the engineering room and cataloguing the stations and systems requiring attention.

“I can get main boost thrust back online,” she finally said. “But we need to find out what caused this. I have no estimate for how long that will take, Captain.”

“And main boost thrust? We’re losing parsecs as we speak, Chief.”

“I’m aware of that, Captain.” She was pissed. I grimaced instead of smiled. It didn’t seem right to enjoy riling her right now; she’d just lost a member of her team.

“Very well,” I said, voice level and calm. “I’d like a report in my ready room as soon as you’re able, Chief. Do what you can to get us moving for now.”

I trusted Commander Rey to do her job. She might be hurting. She might be angry with the universe and any unfortunate soul who crossed her path. But Camille Rey was a dedicated engineer. One of the best to come out of the ESA.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she said and cut comms.

“Fleet-wide hail, Johnson,” I said to my communications officer.

“Channel open, sir,” he replied.

I stared at the viewscreen; for now, it merely showed a vast swathe of stars in front of us. Any second though, those other vessels in our sector fleet would overtake us, and all we’d see would be the glowing arse end of their nacelles.

“This is Captain Noah Vaughan of the Chariot. Reduce speed to quarter. I’ll update the fleet when I have more to offer. Chariot out.”

It was hardly inspiring stuff, and we didn’t really have the clout to back it up. If the other vessels in the fleet decided to keep on trucking and leave us behind, there wasn’t a lot we could do save fire on them. And firing on what was left of humanity seemed all kinds of wrong. But being an ESA vessel, the only European Space Agency Ship out of the ESA in our fleet, we held some sway.

The European Space Agency had given all the vessels in our fleet, save the Anderson Universal vessel Vela, a helping hand during fitting out for this journey. Those that remained in the Sector One Fleet had a lot to thank the ESA and therefore ESAS Chariot for. I could only hope goodwill would go so far.

But when you’re talking about survival of the human race, goodwill slips down the totem pole of power. Survival is a strong motivator. We needed to stay on our toes for this.

“Lieutenant Hammersmith,” I called.

“Yes, sir?” she replied promptly, her German accent barely noticeable. The lack of harsh consonants only reminded me of Camille’s accented slip earlier. I pushed concern for my chief engineer out of my mind.

Camille was a big girl; she could look after herself.

“Place us on yellow alert.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Guards to engineering,” I added.

“And the bridge, sir?”

I glanced around my bridge crew.

“Are any of you armed?” I queried mildly.

“Er, no, sir,” Hammersmith replied.

“Not even you, Lieutenant?”

“Er.”

“Emergency arms, then. You have the code for the bridge locker?” I enquired.

“Yes, sir. Forgive me, sir, but who do you think will attack us?”

I looked at the viewscreen.

“I dare say if there are any problems, they’ll originate outside of the ship, Lieutenant. But if they do, we’re not the only ones with portals showing the progress of the rest of the fleet compared to us.”

“Ah, yes, sir. Makes sense.”

“I do try,” I said dryly.

No one laughed. The entire flight crew was on edge, and an unexplained explosion in engineering just made matters worse. I counted down the minutes, hoping to hear from Camille before too much longer. But as the shift progressed, and main boost thrust came back online, I didn’t so much as hear a peep out of her.

“I’ll be in my ready room,” I said to Johnson sometime later. “You have the bridge.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

I strode out of the bridge and slipped into my office, then sank down into my chair and tried to relax. A quick assessment of the systems told me engineering was operating at 60% and the crewman who had died was Lieutenant Daniels. Camille’s second.

I wrote up my log, what I could of it so far, and then sent a reminder to the chief to file her report. I got diddly-squat for my efforts. I could hardly blame her, she’d be working under pressure to get engineering fully operational again, and there was the gaping hole in her command structure to consider.

I was not inclined to micro-manage my crew members. But damn it, a report would have been nice.

I checked on the relative positions of the rest of the fleet, and on the off chance of spotting Pavo and the Sector Two Fleet on long-range scans, I tried that too. I was pretty damn sure that I had a better chance of getting Camille Rey to report than catch up to the Sector Two Fleet anytime soon.

I contemplated sending out another mayday to Captain Jameson onboard Pavo. But he knew about as much as he needed to right now. Our main boost thrust was operational again and would be maintaining 115% thrust before too much longer. Thank the divine heavens for Camille Rey and her super intelligent engineer’s mind. There was nothing else to tell him. Well, nothing else I was aware of yet.

One malfunction does not a malfunctioning beast make.

I’d get Camille’s report. We’d fix the problem. And we’d sail on to new pastures.

I glanced at the gel wall and took in the meadow full of wildflowers depicted on it. The meadow my parents looked at outside their kitchen window every day. Placing my head in my hands, I only managed a second or two of despair, before the door chimed.

Thinking it might be my elusive chief of engineering, I straightened my uniform and stood from my chair to greet her.

The door slid open, and the mayor walked in.

I sank back down again and tried not to show my disappointment.

For his part, Mayor Lambert came bearing gifts; a bottle of Williamine.

“Thought you might need a tipple,” he said, waving the nectar about with unveiled enthusiasm.

I pulled out two shot glasses, placing them before him on my desk, and said nothing as he poured equal portions from his bottle.

Thank God for the Swiss and their liqueurs. Not to mention their excellent timing.