A deep male voice filtered through the speakers, filling her cabin. “Corporal Swan, you are assigned to level three today. New credentials are waiting at the checkpoint.”
“Yes, sir,” Attie said automatically, throat tight. She hadn’t recognized his voice, but the administrative pool still had her on temp duty, filling in wherever she was needed.
The slight static of the open comm cut off, leaving Attie in silence. She remained still for a moment, wondering about her new assignment. Level three was where the ship’s top-secret projects were housed; even when she’d been the admiral’s personal assistant, she hadn’t had access to that area. She put her palm flat against the AI at her waist. It was likely to start talking at exactly the wrong moment if she took it with her. But leaving it hanging around in a desk drawer sounded unwise, as well.
She moved toward her closet to change out of her damp tunic. As she pulled a new uniform over her head, her gaze caught on the recessed light fixture overhead. Marlis used to hide small things inside the light fixture of their room when they were kids. It seemed like the perfect place to stash Twerp until she was more certain about what to do. Prying the fixture loose, she eyed the tiny space behind it. The whole band wouldn’t fit, so she popped the black AI disk free and wedged it inside. “Stay quiet until I get back, Twerp.”
“Please, do not leave—”
“I said hush,” Attie hissed. Marlis had always complained the AI was mouthy, and now Attie understood why. “Don’t say another word until I tell you to.”
Twerp buzzed against her fingers in acknowledgement.
Attie pressed the fixture into the ceiling again and tossed the empty band into her desk drawer. Then she took a deep breath and set off for level three.
The ship's corridors were busy with the shift change as she hurried to the lift. She danced around a maintenance droid and pushed through a group of cadets blocking the hall. It wouldn’t do to be late to a new assignment, especially if it could be a way out of the admin pool and back onto the corporate ladder. An assignment to level three had to be a promotion, right?
She stepped off the lift onto level three and faced an empty corridor. Her skin prickled with goosebumps; she seldom saw a corridor on this ship that was completely empty. It only makes sense, she told herself. Few people have access.
The walls were brushed metal, not painted like those in the rest of the ship, and it somehow felt ominous. Steeling her spine, she moved toward the single, unmarked door at the end of the hall, footsteps echoing against the metal deck. She pressed her palm against a glowing blue biometric security panel next to the door, heart pounding in her ears. For some reason, she half-expected alarms to blare. The door slid aside and she let out a relieved breath.
A man in a solid black security uniform with no visible rank manned a desk just inside. Holo screens cycled through security footage of various rooms, while behind him sat closed doors marked with acronyms she didn’t recognize. He looked up, examining her uniform with an arched eyebrow. “Can I help you?”
She saluted. “Attie Swan, reporting for duty.”
He returned his gaze to the nearest monitor and tapped in her name. His eyebrows shot upward. “New NIU Consort?” He shook his head and opened a drawer to pull out a folded stack of clothing. “You don’t look the type, but whatever.”
Consort? She thought back to the list of positions she’d applied for on the ship, but couldn’t remember that one. Was it a code word for some secret project? She lifted her chin, determined to show she could obey orders and not ask questions. This job—whatever it was—was finally her chance to prove herself. “I’m with the administrative pool.”
“Great.” He thrust the clothing at her. “Put that on.”
Standing, he turned to the wall behind him and popped open what looked like a medical kit.
Attie shook out the thin orange skirt and sleeveless top that looked like it would barely cover her midriff. The letters NIU were imprinted on the back of the shirt in blue and edged the bottom of the skirt. The thing looked more like something a cantina waitress would wear than a uniform. “Is this standard issue?”
When she looked up, he stood next to her with a hypodermic injector. “Standard as it gets. Feel free to dress it up if you like.”
Before she could protest, he’d pressed the hypo to her shoulder. The slight pressure of the injection sent a chill over her skin, quickly replaced by heat. A wave of vertigo made the deck feel like it was tilting under her feet. “What was that?”
“Little something to take the edge off.” He leaned close to her face, breath fanning her skin as he looked into her eyes. Apparently satisfied, he stepped back.
“I—I think there's been some mistake,” said Attie, her words feeling thick. Her legs felt weak and her head swam as if she’d been drinking. “You need to check your files. Who issued my transfer?”
“Someone higher up the chain of command than you.” He returned to his desk and tapped a few keys, then waved a hand at something behind her. “Change over there.”
She glanced over her shoulder. A glimmering privacy screen now blocked off the far corner of the room. Feeling like she was moving in slow motion, she returned her attention to the man, then down at the black admin uniform she currently wore.
“I suggest you hurry.” He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her toward the privacy screen, patting her butt to urge her forward. “You’ll pick last if you’re late, and no one wants to be paired with Rust.”
Paired with rust? What does that even mean? Like an automaton, she shuffled behind the screen
