"To the crew of the Queen Victoria, this is Captain Rogers. Former Captain Cameron has been relieved of duty, I am assuming command. Prepared for FTL jump to the Omega relay on my mark."

Lt. Ayame Sato took a deep breath as she exited the stairwell leading down to where d'Angelo Browne sat bleeding out. She stepped quickly aside when Security Officer Morgan—that lunatic—met her, nodded, then headed down to the little space.

Was it her, or had there been something in his eyes? Some glitter of knowledge she didn't share? Was it possible that d'Angelo knew, really knew that Cerberus wanted what was in her brainpan as well? Was it just the point of death that loosened his lips?

She had no illusions: d'Angelo might still be breathing, but he was for all intents and purposes dead. Rogers was not a forgiving woman.

A chill passed over Sato. She'd already made her bed, done it in a panic, without thinking. It would get back to Rogers very soon—she couldn't afford to wait. Rogers would never hang around if she couldn't convince the Alliance that everything happening was simply a gigantic internal problem.

Not once they played back the message sent via a hijacked communications channel. And they would, too—Rogers would know. She'd know there was only one person who could hack her omnitool because the hacker was the one who set up its security. Only one person who knew where the back door into it was.

But she had a little time…

Glancing around for Morgan—she could hear him grunting, presumably shouldering d'Angelo's corpse—Sato took advantage of her moment alone in this corridor. She activated her omnitool, hacked into Rogers' and started a basic program that would copy as much of the data stored on that omnitool as possible.

She would need a sort of goodwill offering if she wanted to get away from Rogers, to get out of Rogers' reach. It would not be as simple as running to the Alliance for safety, but it was a start. She was a technological genius: she could make herself disappear, given time.

Sato swallowed as Morgan came up the stairs, d'Angelo, clearly dead, draped across his shoulders. Had Morgan silently finished off the dying man? The though made her shudder.

The ride down to the lowest deck—where the garbage release was—was the longest few seconds of Sato's life. She didn't like to think about d'Angelo's body being ejected into space. He'd never minded Rogers' rather draconian methods…but those methods had never been applied to crewmen before.

This was new. Frightening.

And she was, she realized more fully than ever, a target, a traitor, trapped on this boat.

She had to get off of it. As soon as possible.

She took the elevator back up, up to the crew deck to find a scene of destruction before her. Tonya was rocking back and forth, crying into Trey's shoulder. He was clearly dead, neck broken, given the funny angle of his head. In the middle of the floor lay Capt. Art Cameron, also dead, with a single bullet hole in him. It looked as though he'd been facing into the room, having just stepped out of the elevator, when he died.

Sato bit her lip. "Wh-what happened here?" she asked.

Tonya didn't answer, still trying to elicit a response from her twin. It was a pitiful sight, so Sato looked away, her eyes lightning on the missing panel on the bank of escape pods. So, Jack had managed to escape after all…or had she? She didn't think the weapons had been fired, but her attention had been so focused…

"Move, Sato." Morgan's two-word instruction garnered instant obedience. Sato moved, watching him heave Capt. Cameron onto his shoulders, presumably to take the body down to the garbage release. He paused long enough to study Trey's prone form, then to cast her a considering glance, before he hefted the Captain higher on his shoulders and lumbering off.

Sato's stomach turned cold. So, d'Angelo was right: she was next.

Well, that wasn't going to happen. She wasn't going to let those brain butchers use her as a template! She checked the condition of her download, wondering how much time she actually had. If Rogers managed to talk her way out of trouble, would Sato be safe until the next time the ship docked?

Or would Rogers just prep the next package for transport and hand her over in Jack's place?

Sato tried to calculate, but she didn't have enough information. It was a worse position than any she had ever anticipated finding herself in. She was trapped on a ship with a madwoman whose madness had finally bent itself on the ship's crew.

Sato had, as had many, always believed that being part of Rogers' crew was safe. Rogers knew her success depended on her associates and underlings, so she chose them with care, looked after them as long-term investments.

Something had changed. Apparently Rogers anticipated a time where she would not need her old ties…

"All hands, brace for emergency relay access. Repeat: all hands, brace for emergency relay access."

Sato gave a cry of terror, wrenched one of the escape pod covers loose, her fingers scrambling for the catches. She managed to get into the pod, managed to enter her key code. She was almost too late: her pod had rotated just enough to see the mass relay flash, sending some object hurtling across space.

Sato's breathing was ragged as, for want of anything else to do before the Alliance took her escape pod into custody, she began going through the data recovered form Rogers' omnitool. She had not been very specific with regards to what was salvaged—she could only hope she had something useful in all the files and documents.

Rogers was a careful woman: she kept records of everything, so she had ammunition with which to protect herself if she needed to.