Evans’ response softer, more muted.
Interesting duo there. Tsu was solid as they came: level-headed, dependable, cool under pressure. Not entirely surprising considering her upbringing—the Hideo-Nippon colony on Sosholo had a first rate military academy and Tsu had graduated top of her class. Not the friendliest person, despite her looks, or perhaps because of it, but Henricksen thought highly of her. Thought she had command potential. In fact, he’d already forwarded her package to the captain’s board for consideration, though Tsu didn’t know it. Nor the rest of the crew either. Certainly not Finlay.
Finlay. She’d be gutted if she knew .
Serengeti tapped into Finlay’s screen, watching the private messages flash back and forth between Finlay at Scan and Tsu at Engineering. They were close, those two. Close as sisters. Close as lovers. That’s what Finlay wanted— Serengeti read that in the messages Finlay sent from Scan—but Tsu already had a lover. Anoosheh—that name kept repeating in the messages Tsu received from home. Finlay knew about her, of course—how could she not when she and Tsu had grown so close—but that didn’t stop her from dreaming. The heart wanted what it wants, after all.
Poor Finlay. Serengeti backed out of the text-based conversation passing between Scan and Engineering. All your longing will only end in heartache .
She considered Tsu a moment, studying her profile, the long line of her nose, the tilted brown eyes, and turned the camera a bit, taking a long look at Evans at Navigation.
Tsu was good—damn good—but Evans… Serengeti honestly wasn’t quite sure about Evans. He’d trained in Nav and done well in the position—not great, not horrible, just…well. ‘Competent,’ was how Henricksen described him, and that fit too. Fit everything about Evans, in fact. Truth was, Serengeti didn’t really have a good read on Evans. He was new to her crew—a recent replacement for Santiago who’d been killed in an unfortunate accident in one of her cargo bays—and he mostly kept to himself.
Need to fix that, she thought. When this is over, I need to look into the mystery that is Evans. Make sure he gets integrated with the rest of the crew.
Because crew was family while the ship was underway. And family didn’t stomach outsiders. Either Evans integrated or he’d been transferred. Or demoted. Either way, he’d be on his way out, and Serengeti didn’t want that. Not for any of her crew, even the ones she hardly knew.
She pulled back a bit, casting the camera’s lens wide, watching the crewmen go about their various tasks on the bridge with one sliver of her consciousness—dipping into their consoles now and then to monitoring their activity—while another sub-mind looked outward, measuring the ever-diminishing gap between the Meridian Alliance armada and the DSR fleet. And in the background, a third sub-mind kept processing, chugging its way through Trinidad’s records.
Something about that ship bothered her. Something just wasn’t right.
The sub-mind flashed a message to get Serengeti’s attention, and then pointed to a single—the ship’s original design specs, and a series of addendums detailing changes and upgrades, a long list of modifications made over the course of the last twenty years.
“He’s a refit.”
“What is?” Henricksen asked distractedly.
“ Trinidad. ” Serengeti highlighted the Heliotrope’s marker on the front viewing screen.
“Well, obviously. I mean, look at him!” Henricksen waved at hand at the porcupine-shaped vessel showing in Number Four’s feed.
“Not that. Well, yes, that too, but I was talking about the AI. The AI is a refit. They ripped the advanced sciences AI out and replaced it with a combat model. Second generation.”
Henricksen stared at the camera in disbelief. “ Second ? That’s a fucking Neanderthal compared to the AI that was in there. Why the hell would they do that? Why would the AI agree to
Interesting duo there. Tsu was solid as they came: level-headed, dependable, cool under pressure. Not entirely surprising considering her upbringing—the Hideo-Nippon colony on Sosholo had a first rate military academy and Tsu had graduated top of her class. Not the friendliest person, despite her looks, or perhaps because of it, but Henricksen thought highly of her. Thought she had command potential. In fact, he’d already forwarded her package to the captain’s board for consideration, though Tsu didn’t know it. Nor the rest of the crew either. Certainly not Finlay.
Finlay. She’d be gutted if she knew .
Serengeti tapped into Finlay’s screen, watching the private messages flash back and forth between Finlay at Scan and Tsu at Engineering. They were close, those two. Close as sisters. Close as lovers. That’s what Finlay wanted— Serengeti read that in the messages Finlay sent from Scan—but Tsu already had a lover. Anoosheh—that name kept repeating in the messages Tsu received from home. Finlay knew about her, of course—how could she not when she and Tsu had grown so close—but that didn’t stop her from dreaming. The heart wanted what it wants, after all.
Poor Finlay. Serengeti backed out of the text-based conversation passing between Scan and Engineering. All your longing will only end in heartache .
She considered Tsu a moment, studying her profile, the long line of her nose, the tilted brown eyes, and turned the camera a bit, taking a long look at Evans at Navigation.
Tsu was good—damn good—but Evans… Serengeti honestly wasn’t quite sure about Evans. He’d trained in Nav and done well in the position—not great, not horrible, just…well. ‘Competent,’ was how Henricksen described him, and that fit too. Fit everything about Evans, in fact. Truth was, Serengeti didn’t really have a good read on Evans. He was new to her crew—a recent replacement for Santiago who’d been killed in an unfortunate accident in one of her cargo bays—and he mostly kept to himself.
Need to fix that, she thought. When this is over, I need to look into the mystery that is Evans. Make sure he gets integrated with the rest of the crew.
Because crew was family while the ship was underway. And family didn’t stomach outsiders. Either Evans integrated or he’d been transferred. Or demoted. Either way, he’d be on his way out, and Serengeti didn’t want that. Not for any of her crew, even the ones she hardly knew.
She pulled back a bit, casting the camera’s lens wide, watching the crewmen go about their various tasks on the bridge with one sliver of her consciousness—dipping into their consoles now and then to monitoring their activity—while another sub-mind looked outward, measuring the ever-diminishing gap between the Meridian Alliance armada and the DSR fleet. And in the background, a third sub-mind kept processing, chugging its way through Trinidad’s records.
Something about that ship bothered her. Something just wasn’t right.
The sub-mind flashed a message to get Serengeti’s attention, and then pointed to a single—the ship’s original design specs, and a series of addendums detailing changes and upgrades, a long list of modifications made over the course of the last twenty years.
“He’s a refit.”
“What is?” Henricksen asked distractedly.
“ Trinidad. ” Serengeti highlighted the Heliotrope’s marker on the front viewing screen.
“Well, obviously. I mean, look at him!” Henricksen waved at hand at the porcupine-shaped vessel showing in Number Four’s feed.
“Not that. Well, yes, that too, but I was talking about the AI. The AI is a refit. They ripped the advanced sciences AI out and replaced it with a combat model. Second generation.”
Henricksen stared at the camera in disbelief. “ Second ? That’s a fucking Neanderthal compared to the AI that was in there. Why the hell would they do that? Why would the AI agree to
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