“I am trying, Captain,” Vela said. But his gel walls kept pulsing red.

We were standing outside Airlock Alpha-01 on Deck B waiting for Pavo to dock.

“Try harder,” I said through gritted teeth. “We want to make a good impression.”

“A good impression? Why?”

I ran a hand over my face and shifted on my feet. Inviting Captain Jameson onboard was a huge risk. Not merely the physical risk to the Chariot from docking with another vessel; something we’d only ever simulated before. But a psychological risk. To Vela. Hell, if I was honest, to me. I hadn’t met Jameson before, but I’d been on countless teleconferences with him and the other AU captains back on Earth. I knew how the man operated in a meeting. I’d studied his tactics in command.

But this was an Anderson Universal vessel and an Anderson Universal captain.

Camille’s hand came down on my arm and squeezed lightly. She’d removed it again before I had a chance to snatch it up and grasp it like a lifeline.

“It’ll be all right,” she said steadily. “But Vela, the less we show our emotions, the harder it is for anyone to take advantage of us.”

I wasn’t sure if that message had just been for the AI. I smiled self-deprecatingly.

Camille grinned back at me.

“You think Captain Jameson would take advantage of us, Commander?”

Camille’s grin disappeared.

“In all honesty, Vela, I don’t,” she said, weighing her words carefully. “But I make a habit of presenting my best side to a new acquaintance, just in case I’ve misjudged their intentions.”

“Is that what you did when we first met, Chief?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“I rather liked your best side,” I said. “And I really like your dirty side,” I added quietly.

Camille glanced back over her shoulder at the security detail standing farther down the hall. They wouldn’t have overheard, but Vela would have.

The AI, thankfully, didn’t comment.

Camille’s eyes landed back on me.

“And this is your best side, Captain?” she asked archly.

“You do bring out the best in me, Chief,” I offered, just as a loud clunk could be heard through the bulkhead.

“Pavo has docked,” Vela announced. “Sealing connection. Connection sealed. Decompression started.”

The walls, I noted, had stopped pulsing red. They were a soft blue now, not exactly soothing green, but close enough. The AI was trying.

“Very good, Vela,” I offered, and bemusedly noted the walls lightened further. “Everyone ready?” I asked, no one in particular.

Camille tapped the plasma gun on her hip and smiled, showing teeth.

“Ready and eager,” she replied.

I couldn’t stop staring at her. Enraptured all over again. I’d thought Camille Rey wielding a wrench and a datapad was captivating. But Camille Rey standing at my side, facing a potential threat, wearing a plasma pistol on her very curvaceous hips was stunning.

I cleared my throat when the hatch panel flashed readiness, and the lock began to turn.

“Decompression complete,” Vela announced unnecessarily. Maybe he needed something to do, too, or else he’d start to fidget like I’d been.

I stilled my movements and stood at parade rest. I was aware my officers were also mimicking me. The lock slowly unwound, and then a hiss could be heard as the seal was broken. The door swung open and on the other side of it stood Captain John Jameson and the woman he’d identified in an earlier communiqué as his second in command. A Commander Kereama, I believed.

“Welcome aboard the Chariot,” I said in greeting.

Jameson stepped through the door with his hand outstretched.

“Captain Vaughan,” he said, shaking my hand firmly. “It’s a pleasure to be aboard.” He turned to his 2IC. “This is Commander Ana Kereama.” There was something in his voice. It took me a moment to identify it as a softening. “My expert in all things Pavo,” he explained.

“Good afternoon, Captain Jameson,” the woman said, shaking my hand. Her grip was as firm as Jameson’s had been. I instantly knew this woman had been a soldier.

“Welcome aboard, Commander.” I indicated Camille. “This is Commander Camille Rey, Chief of Engineering onboard the Chariot.” And the woman I trust with everything.

I wondered briefly, as Jameson smiled knowingly, whether that silent thought had been conveyed in my tone of voice, too.

“This is an unexpected experience,” Jameson said. “Who would have thought we would have met before reaching New Earth?”

“Certainly not me,” I agreed. “Shall we?” I motioned down the hallway, and we began to walk. This needed to happen in my ready room and not in a public access way to the officers’ mess and bar.

Why the main docking hatch was on the same deck as the gym and mess was a mystery. But it was also on the same deck as the medbay and officers’ quarters. Both of those I could see us needing. Reinforcements within shouting distance.

We made silent and swift work reaching my ready room, and as the doors slid shut behind me, I felt a sense of ease steal over my body. This was my domain. Completely.

“Please, have a seat,” I said.

Commander Kereama sat, as did Camille, but Jameson looked around the room and then approached a shelf with knickknacks on it. Mementoes of a lost life and world.

“You know,” he said, picking up a small Matchbox London bus and turning it around to study, “we’re not so dissimilar, are we? My ready room is decorated much the same as this.”

“With a double-decker bus?” I enquired.

He laughed. I got the impression Jameson laughed frequently.

“No, but I do have Skippy.”

“Skippy?” Camille asked.

He turned and smiled at my chief. A flare of jealousy rushed through me when he winked.

“The bush kangaroo,” he offered.

“Oh,” Camille replied, clearly lost for words right then.

“I suppose you have the Eiffel Tower?” Jameson asked.

“On my wall,” Camille offered. “Lately, Vela has taken to depicting it at dawn.”

I didn’t know that. I hadn’t been to Camille’s rooms, and suddenly I felt that was an oversight on my part.

Jameson looked at the wildflowers on my gel wall, but he didn’t say anything. I was thankful for that.

He took a seat, and I sat also. We stared at each other. Tension mounted.

Commander Kereama made a sound. She looked at Camille. “Men,” she said, knowingly.

Camille laughed. I was at once bewitched and chastened.

“Easy there, Ana,” Jameson said. “One might think you don’t approve of our posturing.”

“Not at all, Captain,” Ana replied. “Merely the delay it causes.”

“Point made,” he said with a soft smile. “Noah,” he added, returning his attention to me, “what do you want to know? I’m an open book. Or, at least, with the AIs I’m prepared to be. I can hardly claim they are proprietary Anderson Universal property anymore when one of them has changed allegiance.”

I blinked at the man. “That’s most magnanimous of you,” I offered.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his spread knees and said, “Have you asked him to sign an employment contract yet?”

“What?” I said, stunned at the turn of events.

“An employment contract. And an NDA wouldn’t go astray either. Although, by the sounds of it, Vela doesn’t talk much.”

“I can talk, Captain Jameson.” I gave Jameson a warning stare. “I just don’t like whispering.”

“Noted,” Jameson said, sitting back in his seat warily.

“Vela?” Commander Kereama called, not appearing wary in the slightest. “Pavo is part of our crew. He’s one of us. He gets all the rights and privileges of a commander.”

I blinked again. This was getting more and more bizarre.

“Would you like that?” she asked.

My eyes met Camille’s. She looked equally as stunned. Invite an AI to be part of the crew? Were they mad?

The walls flashed red. I stilled. Camille was holding her breath. But both Jameson and his 2IC didn’t seem phased by it.

Then Vela said, “Tell me more.”

I guess red could mean excited, too, not just irritated or angry. Or about to go on a murderous rampage.

Welcome to the age of excitable artificial intelligence indeed. Things were definitely getting interesting.