“I went down to take a look at your ship this morning,” I say as I stroll into the rec room, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

Byer seems to have made himself at home. He leans back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him. A pile of books pulled from the shelves lie strewn across the table.

The only technology that never quits on you, as Dad would say. No sense arguing the point with him either. Even though books would hardly be considered technology by our standards, there’s a certain convoluted logic to the claim. Science adapted for practical application. Advancing knowledge through novel invention. Blah blah blah.

Byer’s eyes flash up at me momentarily before returning to the page. He’s trying to play it cool, I think to myself smugly. Let’s see just how cool he can stay.

“Good news,” I say, sitting down across from him. “Turns out it was just a sensor problem.” I take a slow sip of my coffee. “Can you believe it?” I smile at him. Waiting. Letting it sink in.

He closes the book and sets it down gently on the table, folding his hands over the top and obscuring the cover.

“Looks like you won’t be needing a ride all the way back to Alpha 2 after all,” I say with chuckle. “We’ll have you back in the air in no time.”

I’ve called his bluff. And he knows it.

“I bet you didn’t even need Chrys’s help,” he replies, his face placid, expressionless. “Why don’t we take it out for a test drive, if you’ve taken care of it? Just you and me.”

And now he’s called mine. Well-played, I think bitterly. I grit my teeth and take another sip of coffee. God, this crap out of the synth tastes like shit now I’ve had a taste of the real deal. I swallow slowly and try to think of my next move.

But just then, Chrys’s voice comes on over the speaker.

“Incoming hail from unknown vessel.” Good timing. I practically slam my cup down onto the table and jump up from my seat.

“Give me a sec to get to the bridge and then put it through,” I answer. Glad for the out, I leave my still-full cup on the table and make a beeline for the bridge.

“Ok, Chrys, let’s hear it,” I say as I drop into the command chair.

“MASSA 50, this is Vanguard 3,” comes a gruff voice over the speaker.

Great. A Vanguard vessel. That’s just what I need.

“What can I do for you, Vanguard?” I answer, trying my best to sound casual. Cool. Like someone with nothing to hide.

“We’re conducting a security sweep of the area. All vessels departing Olympia Station in the past 48 hours are subject to inspection. Prepare to be boarded.”

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Shit.

“I copy, Vanguard,” I answer. “But I’ve got a problem with the airlock at the moment, and my re-mat isn’t rated for human transport,” I say as calmly as I can, despite the fact that my heart is already racing.

“That’s no problem, MASSA 50. Just send us your ship’s transport codes and we’ll take care of the rest.”

Shit shit shit.

“Sure thing,” I reply lightly. “I’m a little new to the big chair, so bear with me while I try to pull up those codes,” I force out a laugh.

But there’s no laugh on the other end.

“We’re ready whenever you are,” the voice answers curtly.

I spring up from my chair. I’ve got to stall them. Think. Think! Suddenly, I notice that I’m not alone. Byer is standing in the doorway to the bridge, his face stricken with terror.

For a minute, I’m confused. Why is he so worried? I’m the one about to be boarded by Garda. I’m the one with everything on the line.

And then a wave of realization crashes over me.

“What did you do?” I ask slowly, my voice low and thick with contempt. But Byer just stands there in silent horror, eyes wide and desperate.

“What did you do?” my voice rises in anger. But he doesn’t answer. I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Get off my ship! I want to scream. I’ve got enough problems of my own. Whatever this is, leave me out of it!

Instead, I storm past him and start sprinting down the hallway. This can’t be happening. I round the corner and almost run straight into C-CIL and Shae outside their quarters.

“Deck 4,” I croak out, breathless. “Engine room.” Byer has caught up to me by now.

“The annex,” I wheeze, “Might suppress bio scans.” Shae looks at me, wide-eyed, panicked, and grabs C-CIL’s arm. But I don’t have time to stay and explain any more.

“And hurry!” I yell over my shoulder as I run frantically back toward the bridge.

“MASSA 50, do you copy?” I hear as the cool air of the bridge hits my face.

“I’m here, Vanguard, and I think I’ve got those codes for you,” I say, trying to catch my breath. I scroll furiously through line after line of code index.

“Go ahead.”

“Beta-6-0-0-Delta-5,” I read out. I mute the line as soon as I’ve read out the last character. That should hold them off for a minute.

“Chrys, unlock all decks and run a low-level EM through the docking bay,” I say aloud.

“Decks 1-4 unlocked. Electromagnetic current initiated in docking bay interior plating.”

“Oh, and open a one-way comm feed to the engineering room. Active input on all decks, all rooms.”

“Communication channel has been established.”

“MASSA 50, those codes are inaccurate,” the voice from Vanguard breaks in with obvious irritation. No shit, Sherlock.

I unmute the line.

“Sorry about that, Vanguard,” I let out a nervous laugh. “I think I’ve got the right ones now.”

Just breathe, I tell myself. Inhale. Exhale. I stand in the front of the transport bay, hands clammy. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, soaking my collar. Convince yourself you have nothing to hide, and maybe you’ll convince them too. But my throat is tight as I stand there waiting, and my heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it’ll punch a hole in my chest

“Welcome to the Chrysanthemum,” I practice aloud to the empty room. But my mouth is dry, and it’s hard to get the words out. I swallow hard. “I’m the captain—no—I am Captain Jahdra of the Chrysanthemum,” I say to myself.

I am the captain. This is my ship. And I have nothing to be afraid of.

The seconds draw out into what feel like hours. And then, in an instant, the lights in the room intensify with a buzz. Maybe it won’t work, I think to myself hopefully. Maybe they won’t be able to get through. Or better yet, maybe they’ll just blow themselves up. The lights flicker as I hold my breath, and there’s a loud crack.

When the lights dim back to normal, two imposing figures in Garda uniforms have re-materialized on the transport pad in front of me.

And I feel like I’m going to be sick.