Pax Novis

Chapter Four

Cira

Terra-Sol date 3814.243

Cira checked their position against the four closest pulsars, plugged the new data into the calculations, and adjusted their course. For the umpteenth time. Days like this, she seriously wondered why she'd pushed so hard to take the PCCS's officer exams at fourteen.

"If you can pass, I'll make you an ensign," Erryla had finally agreed after a full Terra-Sol cycle of her daughter's pestering and her wife's amused smirks. "But you know how slowly promotions become available. If you become an ensign now, you'll still be one when you're twenty. You think school is boring? Try repeating the exact same function for so many shifts only the computers can keep count."

Cira had grinned, knowing she'd won. "But at least it'll be necessary repetition."

However, her mother had, unfortunately yet unsurprisingly, been right. She got what she'd wanted and seriously regretted her past self's decisions on some days. Four cycles later, she was an ensign with no hope of a promotion unless she left Pax Novis. And that wasn't going to happen. Even if she didn't have to stay to watch over her stowaways, she loved this ship and her family too much to leave, not even for rank. The boredom was awful, though, especially when she was stuck on navigation, her least favorite. Astronavigation calculations were mind-numbing, despite how good at them Cira was. Or maybe because she was so good at them. There was no challenge anymore. Star charts and flight paths and sensor reports and more, all of it looking ahead by light-years. It left her feeling disconnected. Security was better—at least then she felt linked to the crew.

At least Halver—Commander Liddens, rather—was in charge of the bridge today. Cira loved her mother, but working directly under Erryla was always stressful. Too much pressure to be perfect. Perfection was the only way Cira knew to validate the chance her mother had taken by promoting her so young. Nepotism existed throughout the PCCS ranks, but Cira didn't want any of those complaints to land in Captain Antares's inbox.

Halver was still her commanding officer now, though, so she bit her tongue every time she she felt the urge to hint at what Riston had revealed about Halver and Malcolm. That sort of teasing was for another time and another place entirely. Unfortunately. Sometimes maintaining the reputation for being old beyond her cycles and eminently responsible really sucked.

Boredom settled in even before she'd finished with her navigational adjustments, so Cira started poking through the most recent news feeds and alerts as soon as her inputs had been accepted. Mostly it was more of the same—shortages, blockades, battles, and lists of the dead. Then she noticed a flag on a days-old PCCS alert, something meant to keep the message near the top of the feed.

Pax Feris has missed her latest check-in with the Pax Class Governing Council. If any PCCS has had recent communication with Captain Adriano or any officer on board Pax Feris, report in to Control immediately.

Cira blinked at the display. The message hadn't changed since last week, and that was the problem. It meant everyone on Feris had been out of communication for at least ten days.

"What's got you frowning so hard?" Halver leaned forward in his seat, elbows braced on his knees and his attention on Cira. "I know nav bores you, but it's not that bad."

"No, it's— Here." With a few swipes of her fingers on the holo-controls, she sent the alert to Halver's display. "I thought it was funny at first. Not so much now."

A second later, a frown spread across his face, too. "He still hasn't checked in?"

It was worse than that. "If they flagged it, no one on the ship has."