conversations in my cabin, not even ones where I’m thinking out loud. Access explicitly denied, Ship.”
“Very well, Doctor.” Maeve emitted a clicking sound, as if to signal she was signing off.
“Seven hells.” Emily turned the lights off and lay back against the pillows. “This is going to be a long damn cruise.”
After the new employee briefing the next morning, Emily had to admire the thoroughness of the dogged Third Officer in charge. Now she could operate the lifeboats and knew all the ship’s safety features and a lot of other useful details that would go a long way in an emergency should one arise. Figuring the odds of such a crisis were pretty slim, Emily paid attention nonetheless. The horrific Nebula Dream incident was still too fresh in the general memory. Nebula Zephyr was a sister ship, but at twice the size, it had a number of new enhancements the designers hoped would minimize the consequences of any disaster of a similar nature.
After the briefing, she headed to the clinic, feeling an uncharacteristic eagerness. She wondered what kind of unusual passenger complaints she’d be called upon to deal with today. PA Bevar had handed off to chief nurse Vicente at shift change, and he’d done the night records the way Emily wanted to see them. The nurse was busy running a crew sick call, but nothing seemed urgent, so Emily continued on her way to the captain’s cabin for her meeting with him. She’d wanted to research his public record a bit, prepare herself, but the effort would have meant going through Maeve to access the files, and she didn’t trust the AI not to tell the captain his new ship’s physician had been checking on him. While the ship was in hyperspace, all communications had to go through the ship as well, so Emily couldn’t even check with any of her old military buddies to see if someone knew Fleming. Besides, she was going to be on this vessel for only a few weeks, not enlisting for a long deployment. Still, she hated going into any situation without some intel. She knocked on the captain’s door.
Entering his cabin a moment later, she found him seated at a desk, thumbing through files on his AI, rapidly dispositioning each one with no wasted motions. He glanced at her as he said, “We’ll do the rest later, Maeve.”
“Yes, Captain.” The AI’s voice was crisp as always.
Belatedly, Emily wondered if she was expected to salute. But Captain Fleming was already coming toward her with his hand outstretched. “Appreciate you stepping in to help us out, Dr. Shane. Please have a seat.”
“I’m not exactly sure how I got talked into joining the ship, Captain.” She shook his hand and sat in the chair he’d indicated, realizing candor was the only appropriate tack to take. “Officer Dilon must have hidden powers of persuasion.”
“If it makes you feel any better, the cruise line is searching for a permanent replacement while we’re underway. We might even have someone identified by the time we dock at Sector Hub. Then you could relax and cruise home to Harilon with us. Or take a vacation on Hub.” He leaned back in his chair. “Coffee?”
Guessing that with his contacts he probably had the real stuff, she nodded. “I’d love some. I’ve missed it since leaving the military. Costs too much in civilian life.”
Raising his mug, he said, “Help yourself.”
Following the direction of his gaze, she saw the coffeepot and paraphernalia with the ship’s insignia on a table off to the side. Figuring the activity might help disguise her attack of nerves and knowing she could stir creamer into the drink rather than openly fidget, she was relieved to fix a cup. Sometimes she got so tired of managing her own anxiety, always thinking of strategies to disguise or soothe the symptoms. Military service on the frontlines sure had done a number on her. She could barely remember her younger, more carefree self any more, although the energetic volleyball games at the party