I entered secondary engineering like a plasma shot. Despite Vela telling me repeatedly that Camille had it under control. That she was all right. I shot through the door and sailed across half the room - fuck it was small - before I’d even registered what it was I was seeing.

I slammed into a console and bounced back half the distance, my eyes blinking as I took in the strange sight.

Midshipman Blackwell had been duct taped to the bulkhead and was covered with an entire roll of the silver stuff.

“Chief,” I said, breathlessly. “You’ve made a piece of art.”

“My best work yet, Captain,” she said, grinning drunkenly.

She looked pale. She’d removed her helmet. From the perspiration on her face, I thought it was because her LSU had been unable to keep her faceplate clear. I stared at her for a long stretch of time, just taking in the fact that she was there, that she was upright, that she was breathing.

“Don’t ever do that again, Commander,” I said quietly.

She scowled. “Duct tape a prisoner to the bulkhead?” she enquired.

I shook my head and pushed off from the gel floor, the malleable stuff somehow helping me fly in the right direction with just the right amount of pressure under my boots. I reached out and grabbed Camille’s arms, my face coming down toward hers. My helmet knocking her on the nose and forehead.

“Damn it!” I snapped and rushed to remove the blasted thing.

By the time I had myself free, my lips clear enough to kiss her, Hammersmith and the rest of her team had arrived. I gave the chief a lopsided grin and pulled back to face them. Kissing would have to wait for now.

Commander Kereama floated in through door, a medkit in tow. She looked at Blackwell taped to the bulkhead, not even blinking an eye at the unusual sight, and then surveyed the rest of the room. Her dark eyes landed on Camille.

“Pavo said I might be needed,” she declared and then pushed off towards us, arms flailing wildly.

“I think Vela did a number on me,” Camille admitted. And then giggled. My head spun back to stare at her.

“What did he do?” I demanded.

“Saved my life,” she said simply.

I let out a breath of air I hadn’t realised I’d been holding and ran a hand over my face, noticing my fingers were trembling.

“Take a break, Captain,” Kereama said calmly from my side.

“I don’t need a break, medic.”

“That’s not a suggestion, sir,” she replied, staring me hard in the eye.

I backed away. She was right. I was losing it.

And then Blackwell moaned, and his head lolled to the side, and he opened his eyes.

Two black eyes, I noted as I punched him in the face. Hard.

“What the fuck!” he said, his words distorted by an obviously broken nose.

“You shot my chief,” I growled.

He blinked at me and then slowly lowered his eyes. God knows what he saw on my face right then.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded; some of my anger lost to his submission and the fact that his nose was swelling quite nicely.

I studied the duct tape to make sure it was secure, but I shouldn’t have bothered. The chief was a damn fine engineer. He was not getting out of that prison without help and I sure as hell was not inclined to help him.

“Paul Blackwell,” he said and then proceeded to quote his rank and ID number to me.

My hand fisted and he made a choking sound.

“My family!” he cried and fell silent. So did the room.

“What about your family?” I finally asked.

“He’ll kill them.”

Jesus Christ, this wasn’t over. Was there someone else on my ship I had to find now?

“Who will kill them?” I asked.

Blackwell looked up at me, tears streaming out of his eyes. It could have been the broken nose making him cry; those things were painful. But I was inclined to believe it was for his family. Who, if I was right, was not back on Earth like all of ours.

Blackwell licked his lips, tears and snot and blood coating them. I had little sympathy for the man. He’d killed over a dozen of my people. He’d shot at Camille. Punctured her LSU with an illegal weapon. I wanted to hit him all over again.

“If I don’t stop the Sector One Fleet,” Blackwell rushed to say, clearly seeing I was winding up for another round of pummelling, “he’ll kill my family. My father.”

I studied him. Was he lying? Trying to save himself? If he destroyed our fleet, then wouldn’t he be destroying his family as well?

I blinked.

“What vessel is your father on?” I demanded.

Blackwell looked directly at me and then his shoulders slumped. He knew it was over. I had a plasma gun on my thigh. I could reach for it at any moment. Hammersmith hadn’t lowered hers in the last ten minutes. In zero-g you could hold your gun up for hours. The muzzle was pointed directly at his head.

“The vessel?” I prompted.

“Aquila,” he whispered, closing his eyes in defeat.

“Aquila,” I breathed, stunned. The Sector Four lead vessel. The Anderson Universal AI-controlled vessel that should have laid down the jump points for us to New Earth by now.

“That is our brother,” Pavo announced.

“Our brother,” Vela repeated.

“How?” I managed. “How is he on that ship and you’re on ours?”

Blackwell opened his eyes with effort. “Kill me now, Captain. I beg you. Kill me. Please!”

I shook my head. “You don’t deserve an easy way out.”

The walls pulsed red and then green again. Vela agreed wholeheartedly.

I smiled. Showing teeth. And then reached out and grabbed hold of Blackwell’s collar, shaking him.

“Answer the damn question, Crewman! How is your father on a Sector Four ship and you’re on ours?”

“My father works for the leaseholder,” he said rapidly.

“He’s American?”

Blackwell nodded. “My mother was British. My father from the States. I spent half the year in California and half the year in Kent.”

“You met Midshipman Smith in the USA,” I guessed.

He nodded again. “Arron went to school with me. He was on holiday in London when the solar flares first hit. He called me up in Kent. I gave him a place to stay. Getting back to the States was impossible by then.”

“So, you worked together to compromise our voyage,” I said.

“No,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “Arron didn’t know what he was doing. He was just so damn easy to manipulate. So angry all of the time. He wanted to go back to California, but England had closed its borders. The only way out was off planet. It was easy to use him.”

I stared at him in disgust.

“Why? What’s this got to do with your father?”

“I told you, he works for the leaseholder onboard Aquila. You can’t trust them, Captain.” He started to laugh. “I won’t be the only one trying to stop you.”

“Captain?” Commander Kereama said.

I spun to look at her, afraid something had happened to Camille while I'd been distracted by this lowlife. Camille was fine. Still pale, but more alert now. Her eyes met mine; anger and confusion in them that I was sure matched the look in my eyes as well.

“Yes, Commander?” I said, forcing myself to be cordial. Kereama had only ever spoken when she had something useful to say. Including when it was useful to get me to calm the hell down around her patient.

“I might be able to shed some light on this,” she said. I arched my brow at her. “Our leaseholder started a revolt. He tried to take over the vessel.”

Jesus, Jameson hadn’t divulged that.

“Really,” I said to encourage her.

She nodded. “John’s probably going to skin me alive for this,” she muttered. I tried not to laugh. “But we’re all in this together now.”

“Agreed,” I said. “And if it helps, I’ll tell him I coerced you.”

She offered me a cheeky grin. “Please don’t. He likes a challenge now and then.”

I choked on a laugh. Camille snorted.

“Anyway,” Kereama said. “Our leaseholder was working with the acting second officer who said something before we…dealt with him.” So that’s how she became 2IC. A vacancy had appeared. “He led us to believe that their mutiny was not isolated. That other leaseholders would be attempting the same thing.”

I scowled. “Their goal?”

“To stake the largest claim on New Earth. Money,” she said bitterly. “It’s all about money and power and who will have the most of it in our new society.”

“So, if they stop a fleet from reaching its destination, then they carve out more of the spoils for themselves.”

“Yep,” she said softly. “I’m not sure what’s happening onboard Aquila, or Corvus for that matter, but we think all the lead vessels might be in trouble. Vela would have probably been in trouble also, but he managed to get out of there before his leaseholder could act.”

I was stunned. Sickened. Disgusted that I was relieved Vela had sacrificed that vessel after all. If he hadn’t, we would have all been dead. And not because of an unscheduled solar flare on liftoff.

I turned back to look at Blackwell. He’d been a tool. Blackmailed to do someone else’s bidding. He’d failed. From the devastated and anguished look on his face, it wasn’t his own future that worried him. But that of his father.

We couldn’t help his father, onboard Aquila. At the moment, we could barely help ourselves. But we were alive. We had two AIs to assist us. And we would reach New Earth.

“Lieutenant Hammersmith,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Arrest this man and lock him in the brig.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

I pushed off towards Camille.

“Chief,” I said.

“Yes, Captain.”

“How about we get you to your quarters?” I suggested.

“Captain, I’d rather recover on the bridge where I can be of some help.”

“Brecht,” I called over my wrist comm. “Do you need us?”

“Negative, Captain,” my 2IC said. “Not much happening up here while we watch the repair bots work.”

“Vela,” I called.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Do you need us?” I asked.

“Negative, Captain. I will see Commander Kereama safely returned to my brother’s vessel. And continue to integrate myself into the Chariot.”

I nodded my head.

“Your quarters, Chief?” I said, brow arched.

She rolled her eyes at me.

I grinned. Damn it was good to see her do that.

And damn it was good to take her to bed.

Even if it was just for her recovery.