Test of Mettle (A Captain's Crucible Book 2) by Isaac Hooke Read Free Book Online

offered to graft real skin grown from his epidermis over the fingers, but Jonathan had refused. He wanted to remind himself that the digits weren’t real.
    He had forgiven himself for what had happened on the mountain, and yet the memories still haunted him. It didn’t help that he had recently reawakened in intensive care for a second time—after his recovery from the telepath’s mind blast.
    He had new memories to torment him. New accusers that walked his nightmares. He saw the captains then, the men and women who had died serving under him. Hartford Knox stood at the top of the pile of the dead, the fallen admiral staring down at him accusingly. 
    Jonathan knew it wasn’t his fault, knew the apparitions were a figment of his imagination, and yet for him they seemed as real as the projections from an aReal.
    He knew all about post-traumatic stress disorder. The sudden feelings of panic, and the need to get away from people. The abrupt, inexplicable loss of time when alone.
    What he was experiencing was far more than that. He didn’t know what it was, but he believed his undeveloped telepathic abilities were involved—PTSD compounded by undiagnosed telepathy.
    He wondered if he was somehow reading the grief from other crew members, feeling their blame. And yet, why would he keep seeing Hartford then? There were few aboard who would grieve for the admiral. And Jonathan felt no guilt for his death. The man had died while trying to complete a mission that would have killed a hundred million Sino-Koreans and sparked a civil war. With an alien conflict pending, that was the worst time for humanity to be fragmented.
    Yes, he felt no guilt, and yet he still saw Hartford, accusing him with his eyes along with the other captains.
    Maybe I do feel some guilt, Jonathan admitted to himself. I’m only human, after all. Perhaps if I had been able to convince the other captains to back my bid for control of the task group then none of this would have happened. Perhaps if I was a better leader I wouldn’t have been arrested for mutiny.
    Hartford and the others began to laugh soundlessly.
    Maybe it was for the best that the board would soon strip Jonathan of command.
    “Captain, are you all right?” Maxwell, the ship’s AI, asked.
    Jonathan realized his head was down on his desk. He couldn’t remember placing it there. He sat up.
    “Captain?” the AI pressed.
    “I’m fine, Maxwell,” Jonathan said. He glanced at the standard time above his inbox indicator: 1932. More than thirty minutes had passed, though it had seemed little more than a few seconds to him.
    “Your heart rate is elevated,” Maxwell said. “And you are sweating profusely.”
    Jonathan removed his aReal and rubbed his eyes.
    “Maxwell, can you tell if a crew member is no longer fit to serve?” he asked the AI on a whim.
    “I can,” Maxwell intoned.
    “What are the symptoms?” Jonathan said.
    “One symptom is asking the ship’s AI if it can tell whether someone is fit to serve.”
    Jonathan chuckled. “Touché.”
    “Rest assured, Captain,” Maxwell responded. “That if you were no longer fit to serve, I would unceremoniously relieve you of command and assign the captaincy to your executive officer, Commander Robert Cray.”
    “Somehow, that’s not so very reassuring,” Jonathan said.
    “But it should be,” Maxwell said.
    “I suppose you’re glad that we’re returning to United Systems space so you can finally be rid of me,” Jonathan said.
    “I thought you were going to have me decommissioned, and my central processing unit moved to a toaster?”
    Jonathan had to smile at that. “I still might.”
    “There is no certainty that you will be stripped of command,” Maxwell said.
    “There’s no certainty to most things in life,” Jonathan said. “But there are probabilities. And the probability is high that in a few weeks, I will no longer be in command of this ship.”
    “Well, if it is any consolation,” Maxwell replied. “If