Uncertainty clouded the expression of Monica Samuels as she looked once again into the mirror secured to the wall above the sink, which divided her own personal space from that of her missing roommate, Ensign Jherri Roberts. It was not the first time in the last five hours that she had examined her features. She was a young, thin officer; a mere six months out of the Warner Naval Academy. Her clean, fresh features were only partially blocked by the stray strands of dark hair that had escaped from what had once been a scrupulously maintained regulation ponytail. She had lost track of the number of times she had made such an evaluation while leaning on the meticulously clean fixture. She was still a tall, thin ensign in her mid-twenties, and she was still very confused.

She had been in her quarters for almost five hours now, with nothing to do. She had talked to no one. Her only contact with the outside world was a muffled sobbing from the quarters just forward of her own. It sounded like Amber Sullivan, even though those were not her assigned quarters. Her door was locked from the outside and she was beginning to go stir crazy. She threw herself onto her bed, as she had done following every other trip to her mirror.

Obviously, she was not trusted yet. How could she be? she thought. She had had no opportunities to prove herself. She had been escorted here directly from the boat bay and had had no contact with any of the mutineers since. No, I can't call them mutineers, she thought to herself. That is not how they see themselves, regardless of the facts of the matter. Now she was, technically, one of them. And there were still no answers to any of her questions.

She stood again, unable to hold still. Her long black hair spun behind her as she began the pacing that was the next step in her personal frustration cycle. Her mind continued to churn out the questions that had been plaguing her during her hours of isolation.

Stay, the captain had said. What did he mean? Did he mean that he didn't want me? she thought for the hundredth time since her incarceration. Was it an instruction to stay on the ship? What was his expectation? Should I be trying to delay the theft of the ship? Obstruct their attempts to leave the system? What? she asked herself as she arrived at the mirror again. As with every previous iteration, the mirror contained no answers.

Reporting the incident was the most obvious interpretation of his remarks, she believed. She would have to be vigilant for opportunities to communicate the events to the Board. Likely, she would have to manufacture such an opportunity herself. Not an easy task if she remained locked in her room for the rest of their escape. She was not sure of her personal path or what her resources might be yet, but some chance of rescue had to be created for those who had been forcibly ejected from the ship, as well, if she could manage it. For all the confident claims to the contrary, the captain and her friends might never return from their exile. It would be up to her or others to improve their chances. But where, precisely, did her duty lie?

To resist and escape were the inherent commands of any personnel who were taken captive by the enemy. Did this apply? While she was currently a captive within her own cabin, that was hardly the same as being a POW. Was there even a war going on?

Commander Teach had said that anyone was welcome to join with him but obviously anyone who signed on at the point of a gun was not going to be completely trusted. She could still see the scene in her mind's eye. Commander Teach had been ranting to the crew. Everyone had been looking at each other and trying to figure out what was going on. Mostly, to her shame, she remembered the gripping terror in her belly that told her that if she went into that launch, she would die. It had taken everything she could muster to make that decision. Had the captain been able to see that? Was that why he had ordered me off the ship? Did he know that I was not up to the task? she asked herself as she landed on her mattress again.

All through the academy, the Leadership series had been the most difficult courses for the young ensign. Math and Astrogation had come easily. Only the decision-making skills had been difficult. Monica Samuels knew this about herself. She had studied Captain Brighton on watch and envied the easy manner in which he gave commands and dealt with problems. He was an officer and a leader and he led his crew. He never over-analyzed the situations the way that she did as a matter of course, he simply acted. What was it that her command instructor had said? "It's usually better to take the wrong action, quickly, than to make the best possible decision, too late."

She realized that she not only had to make up her mind quickly, but she had to have a plan in place from which she could act.

Trust was going to be the most important element, she decided. Without the trust of the other crew, she would be watched constantly and would never have the opportunity to do anything. She would need to blend in with the crew. She must do whatever she was required to do to make them trust her, and then take any chances that came along for covert action to either delay the theft of the ship or to get help for the exiles. She began to pace the circuit from bed to mirror again, this time with a purpose in mind: to school her appearance to that which the others would expect and to formulate her plans.

Secrecy would be the key to everything. If she were discovered, it could mean her death. Of course, that could be what the mutineers had in store for her anyway, regardless of how cooperative she had become. The continued sobbing from the berth forward reminded her that she had to keep this secret even from Amber, who was her closest remaining friend. She was not built to handle this kind of high-stakes game, and any further stress might well push her over the edge, if she hadn't already gone over on her own.

Belatedly, she felt regret for dragging the girl back into this death trap with her.

There aren't enough people, Commander Leung thought to herself as she unsealed the hatch to Monica Samuels' berth. There was a faint sobbing coming from the berth just forward, which should have been empty. Who was in there? she wondered irritably. I will have to check it out, she thought. She added one more item to her mental list of things that needed to be taken care of immediately.

She brought her thoughts back to the task at hand. Lamont was still missing and the chances that he was still on the ship were vanishingly small. Two complete searches had been done and the entire interior of the ship had been scrutinized repeatedly. In his absence, or, more correctly, in the absence of his computer codes, command and control systems would have to be bypassed enough to get around the lockout that Brighton had managed to throw in their way.

In order to accomplish that, they needed help.

They needed bodies.

They needed to be able to assign tasks and get them done. Unfortunately, that meant that they had to trust, to some extent, all those who had stayed behind.

This fact was what brought her to Ensign Samuel's hatch.

The object of her current mission was lying on her bunk staring at the ceiling as the commander entered, but she jumped up quickly at the sound of the hatch sliding open.

Neither said a word for several seconds until Commander Leung said simply, "Follow me." The commander turned on her heel and left the room, leaving the door open behind her.

They stopped at other crew hatches and collected a small group of crewmen and then, finally, added Ensign Omundson. Omundson was the only other officer in the group, with the exception of Commander Leung, who had retrieved them. Monica Samuels studied him carefully as they were herded aft toward the boat bay.

She knew him as well as any of her shipmates. They had completed the academy together, as all of Pathfinder's ensigns had. In fact, the five ensigns on Pathfinder represented the top five graduating cadets. There were few similarities beyond the academic ones, however. Her thoughts brought a pang as she realized that might never see her three other again. Jherri Roberts had been her roommate and her friend. Quiet and cheerful, she would struggle with the enforced hardships of an unimproved planet. Jordan Hayes and Josiah Mitchell were another proposition entirely; they would probably treat it as a great adventure and run off a cliff without noticing that it was there. The thought struck her with more weight than she expected. They were her friends, and the thought of their hardships or possible deaths hit her especially hard in her already emotional condition. She struggled to bring her feelings back under control. She would need to be clear-headed to get through this.

She studied Omundson again. He was the only one of the ensigns that hadn't been part of her social group. He was always apart from the rest, even at the academy. At 1.75 meters in height, he was not immediately noticeable in a crowd, but he had an attitude which colored all of his contacts with his fellows. As the nephew of Gerry Warner, the CEO of the Warner Family Board, he knew his place in the world. He was condescending and supercilious with all of those around him. His uniforms were impeccable and each one would probably cover the cost of Monica's entire wardrobe. His sandy blond hair was styled and worn just slightly off the collar, longer than was strictly allowed under the regs. He had made no attempt to get to know any of his classmates and often looked as though he was enduring the riffraff around him, but he certainly would never stoop to their level. It was no surprise that he had remained behind. He would never put himself at risk by leaving the ship or endanger the brilliant career that he expected would be his. Odd that he didn't think that throwing in with thieves and pirates might be somewhat of a blemish to his résumé. He was even, quite possibly, correct that his career could survive the taint. There seemed to be two navies within the WSN. There were those who moved ahead on merit alone and those who had the right connections. Stuart Omundson was firmly in the second camp, despite the quality of his academy scores. Or perhaps those scores were more evidence of the same problem. Who could say?

Even as she watched, he had a posture that seemed to indicate that those around him were simply his escort.

In time, they came to the end of the central corridor and stepped through the main hatch into the boat bay. This was where the nightmare had begun for her several hours earlier. As before, there were more people standing there under guard.

Monica Samuels looked around and took note of those around her. There were now a total of ten in their group. They were guarded by five crewmen under the direction of Commander Leung. At first glance, the guards seemed to all be members of the engineering crew. Samuels thought that made sense. If Commander Teach had brought Leung into the mutiny early enough, she would have a chance to recruit her crewmen.

"We have repairs to make," Leung said when they had all collected in the aft section of the boat bay. "Computers are our first priority. I am going to divide you into three groups and we will search the port storage holds. Most of the parts that I need should be in these three holds. I want you to pull any electronics or computer spares out into the main bay to be sorted. Samuels, Goodwin, Semrad; you have hold nine. Samuels, I'm going to put you in nominal charge of your group. Terry, you watch them," she said, motioning to one of the armed men at the back of the group.

"Crowson, McGough, Calvi; hold seven. Crowson, you are nominally in charge. Chandler, you watch them," she continued. "Omundson, you take hold five with Fields and Jenkins. Goesch, you watch that group. I want everything usable out of the holds by 1500. If you can prove yourselves to be trustworthy, then maybe we can dispense with the guards."

Monica Samuels took control of her group and worked them hard. They were the first group to complete their task and began to separate the components that were accumulating on the boat bay deck.

She really wanted them to believe that she was trustworthy, but not for the reasons that they were hoping for.