Back outside in the corridor, Naomi sat numbly against the wall, eyes fixed on the service hatch. She was grateful for the silence. It gave an opportunity for the reality of what had happened to sink in. An opportunity she was reluctant to take.

Chief had been gone for a few minutes now, wanting to verify her father's, the Captain's, location himself. If he had any concern for Naomi's own well being he would likely only show it once he knew for certain what the situation was.

Naomi had been taken aback by his bluntness when she forced herself to crawl back out of the service tunnel. It had been expected, but it still caught her off guard. It was simply the way things were done.

It was the way they had all been trained since childhood.

Fleet comes first. Ship comes second. Crew comes third.

It was an elegant solution to the longstanding problem of loyalty across both the immense distance the caravan stretched, and the close confines of the Arkships.

Without the fleet to guide it, any ship would be lost on its own. Without the ship, all the crew would be lost. The crew always came third.

Everything was done for the survival of the fleet, because without the fleet, humanity was extinct as a species. There were no exceptions. It was a heady mantra and was the only real oath that any of the crew took when they received their commissions.

She would be left there, expected to secure the scene of the crime without interfering or tampering with any of the evidence until a security team arrived. It was part of her basic training for the bridge. It was her responsibility.

Once she had regained some measure of composure, she had reactivated her drone, and it was now flitting around the scene in a basic search pattern, recording the area from different angles and perspectives, focusing in on different points of interest according to a preset algorithm. The video feed had receded into the corner of her vision and various tags and annotations flew past on the left side of her vision as the miniature camera catalogued the scene.

Naomi was trying very hard to ignore the tiny shifting images.

It was necessary, and she was grateful for the duty, as much as she was at a loss for what to do at that moment, the recording of the area would be a tremendous help in finding out who had killed her father. She was at least able to so something to help.

The earlier the scene could be catalogued the better, especially in proximity to an air exchange. Cleaning and recommissioning the area would be of paramount importance.

Naomi was going to play a part in that, a small part, but a necessary one.

There was part of her that desperately wanted to do more to help, but she also knew that with her lack of training in forensic protocols, if she did anything to interfere with the integrity of the scene, she would be subject to immediate sanction.

Her drone was a different story, however. She knew that when the investigations team from security arrived they would expect her to have completed a basic scene survey. It would save them time while they worked to preserve the scene for the forensic analyst. There would be no disruption to the evidence at the scene and the annotated feed would provide an important record of the initial state of the scene. Both for the investigation team, and for herself.

Drones were one of the few systems on board the fleet vessels that functioned entirely independently from the SAN systems. It was designed that way to ensure visibility and operation during emergency situations. Her drone's processing power and storage came directly from her own Limited Autonomous Network, a scaled down personal implementation of the ships SAN systems. Everything it recorded could be copied straight onto her own storage arrays, an action not quite in line with protocol, and an action she would probably be chastised for, but it meant she could keep her own copy of the survey data after she passed the data along to the investigations team.

Her initial shock and horror were slowly turning to anger. Someone had killed her father and then used the air exchange systems to dispose of the evidence.

What was it?

Jealously? Anger? Ideology?

Why had he been killed?

He was a good man, often strict but always just. He treated his crew well, better than most. His death would mean change. The Admiralty, or at least those within a six month radius of the ship, would have to convene and select a new captain. It was a long and messy process, hampered by the vast distances between the ships in the fleet and compounded by the different cultures and ideologies between ships.

Her father had been a very open captain, always willing to listen to those he commanded. Some would say too much, but there had never been an occasion when he baulked from taking action on his own if it was needed. He had instilled those ideals in all of his crew, but there were always those who disagreed with his position.

'Ensign?' The light had started to blink again. The Chief had resumed their communications link.

'Here, Chief.' The words came out in a croak, raw against her throat. Her long silence made it feel like her throat had closed up

'A security team has been dispatched to your position, they will be here shortly. You can return to your quarters once they arrive if you wish. There is nothing else you can do.'

'No, it's okay. My drone is still finishing the primary survey for the security team,' she paused for a few seconds to gather herself, 'I want...I need to do this.'

'Naomi, things are going to be difficult around here for a while.'

'Again with my family, chief?'

'Not just for you ensign, although I doubt anyone will have it harder. Your father was a good man, a smart and resourceful captain. But those in favour of bringing the thrusters back up to full burn are growing in number. The last we heard, they have a majority in half the ships that have a vote in the promotion of our new commanding officer. Our new captain will most likely be one of their number or at least sympathetic to their ideology.'

'But our technical readouts indicate that doing that will exceed the operating capacity of the engines!' Her voice was loud in disbelief, it made little sense to her as a purely theoretical problem, and even less as an actual course of action.

'Yes.' His words were matter-of-fact, just an unpalatable truth he could do nothing about.

'That's suicide.'

'Not as they see it. They are arguing that the engine specifications are too conservative. They claim their proposal, although exceeding the stated safe capacity of the engines is still well under the operating threshold. Still well within the margin of safety implements in their design. Dangerous yes, but according to them, still relatively unlikely to result in major damage to the ship or its engines. At least if their calculations are to be believed. Many are inclined to agree with them. Doing so would reduce our travel time to the nearest habitable solar system by hundreds of years, by generations.'

'But the chance of failure, and to the ship and its crew...'

'They don't care.'

'But...'

'Fleet. Ensign.'

'Fleet comes first, ships come second...'

'That is correct.'

'But that is a perversion of the fleet code!' Her voice was raised again, in anger now.

The code was as close to a sacred creed as the arkship crews had. It was meant to preserve life, not place it in harm's way. It was intended to promote cooperation between ships, maintain peace and security, enable the pilgrims to accept their roles, to accept the knowledge that they themselves would most likely never live to reach their destination. To put the fleet before the lives of its people was perverse, it kindled an anger deep inside of her.

'Yes, it is. Your father strongly opposed the movement. He had been holding the issue at bay here for years. He was even conducting his own inquiry into the numbers that had been proposed. He was scared Ensign, very scared.'

'And why are you telling me this now?'

'You have been archiving that footage on your own drive?'

Silence.

He gave a short laugh, 'You thought I didn't know? I would be doing the same thing if I was in your situation. But I need you to leave now. '

'But...'

'The head of security is one of the Burner faction, Naomi. He will find a scapegoat and brush all of this under the hull. Let me deal with the security team when it arrives. Leave a copy of the survey with me and I'll pass it along.'

'Sir?'

'I, you, we need that data. We need to find who did this. It might be the only way to prevent them taking control.'

He was short and to the point, emphasising the 'need' more than was necessary.

Naomi leaned back against the wall. Nothing made sense anymore. Her entire view of the world had been turned upside down in less time than it took her to shower in the morning.

She had always been led to think that the caravan meant unity. Even within the vocal minority who argued for the increased thrust, she had never imagined that anyone would go to such lengths to get what they wanted.

Fleet comes first; she had always believed that meant the entire fleet, every ship within it. Not just an abstract concept attached to the ships that managed to survive the crossing.

What Chief had suggested was unthinkable, but so too was the bloodstain splattered all over the inside of the air exchange. Silently she issued the recall command to her drone; its survey just complete anyway. There wasn't much else it would be able to glean from the crime scene.

Chief was waiting for her by the transport pods, his arms outstretched and a sympathetic smile on his face. Seeing his expression, something inside of her started to bend under the weight of her emotions. She hadn't expected it of him, and the surprise shook something loose inside of her. He took her by the shoulders and bent over slightly so he could look into her eyes.

'Naomi, we don't have much time. I need you to hold yourself together just a bit longer.' His voice was fringed with concern but the look in his eyes was less composed. It was jarring to see that wild look in the eyes of someone who always appeared so in control.

'What's happening?' she asked, her voice shaky as she forced herself to meet his troubled gaze. 'Nothing yet,' he said calmly, sighing as he let out a slow breath, 'but I need you on board for this. Do you have the survey data?'

'Yes, I made a copy for the security team as well.' She pulled up her virtual console and sent the files across with a few quick flicks of her fingertips, 'I have a secure backup on my own storage array.'

'Good,' he nodded satisfied, 'don't tell anyone else about it. If security asks, I ordered the primary survey and you streamed the data straight back to me.'

'But it's protocol for a bridge crew member to do the survey...'

'Yes, it is. But it's not protocol to save that survey to your own drive. They got to your father Ensign. They got to the captain. What do you think will happen if they find you poking your nose around their business?'

She surrendered the point reluctantly.

He was right.

'When you get home, I need you to transfer that data to an offline storage medium and put it somewhere safe. Just in case they come looking.'

She was about to respond but stopped when she saw the look on his face.

'They can break into my personal drives?'

'We can't take that chance Naomi. We need to be careful. Not a word about this to anyone.'

He tapped a finger under one of his eyes and gave a quick tug to his earlobe.

'You should head on back to your quarters now Ensign, you have a few days compassionate leave until after the interment. I'll be in contact later.'

Naomi nodded numbly at this. No point in pushing the point any further either. She snapped a quick salute and summoned the transport pod.