Homebound Sector, Haven System, Base Oceana
By volume, Base Oceana was the largest construct the central planets had ever devised. The main body of the base glittered white, the shape of a spinning top, but the hollow frames of the space docks were what rendered Base Oceana so large. They extended outward, piping air, water and other supplies to ships undergoing repairs.
The entire base had been designed and built to help maintain Command’s massive military ships, which were often over a kilometer in length. The orbital facility was equipped to sustain three battleship type vessels and numerous other small ships while maintaining operations as a regular spaceport. Three quarters of the station’s volume was dedicated to maintenance equipment and storage, while the rest, the very top and very bottom of the structure, was reserved for personnel operations.
The crown of the station was reserved for military purposes: personal quarters, offices and meeting spaces. The lower tip was shared with the civilian population, run as trade and travel port. Nearly every ship that visited Ariea would pass through it in some measure, so hundreds of ships came and went every day, which made the spaces ‘down below’ messy, crowded and loud. With all those merchants buying and selling, and people hassling and bartering, Alise Cortana found she very much preferred the crisp, airy surroundings of the military decks.
General Clarke had transferred her to Base Oceana in a temporary layover, waiting for the Singularity to return from patrol. It had only been a few days, but it was strange to linger on a military base with absolutely nothing to do. She spent most of her time on the observation deck or in the training facilities, doing weights or fighting in sparring matches. She called her friends in Eagle’s Talon daily, knowing that once she boarded ship it would be a long time before she was able to contact anyone planet-side.
The very thought of such isolation annoyed Cortana. Admittedly, she had been spoiled in her last assignment. Her off-duty hours had been the events of a normal civilian life: visiting friends, talking to family, shopping… But shipboard assignments were not like that at all. Shipboard crews were never truly off duty. Even on shore leave, they could be recalled to the ship without notice by the commanding officer.
And given the nature of said commanding officer, she was not looking forward to it. She would rather not have every minute of her life controlled by someone else, let alone the damned Steel Prince. Shore leave on his ship was likely rare. With a portion of the crew slightly criminal and the Fleet Admiral entirely uncaring of anyone’s exhaustion, she did not see an easy duty rotation ahead of her.
Alise Cortana was already tired of it. Her new uniform should have demanded respect. The rank of Sergeant was high among the Marines, but she could feel the looks of disdain given by the others on the observation deck. The fact she had the Singularity’s ship patch on the sleeve overpowered any respect that her rank should have earned. That flaming red and yellow sun, once the symbol of a glorious flagship, was now a stigma. Here at high command, crew members wearing that mark were considered miscreants. They were people who should have been expelled from the fleet, but had instead had been sacrificed to the command of the fleet’s deadliest officer – a man infamous for his willingness to kill other allied officers.
Still, she tried to ignore the looks of others as she looked out from the station’s observation deck. Ariea’s blue, green and white planetary marble was low and to the left. Directly ahead of her, the Olympia flew in her somber slate tones. The flagship was the closest military ship in view, sharing an orbital pattern with Base Oceana. Assorted civilian vessels and smaller ships were also visible, but they were mere fleas to the Olympia’s massive size.
Hailed as the most powerful ship in the fleet, the Olympia was the only Zeus-class battleship ever built. She had a fearsome, varied assortment of weapons that discouraged even the boldest of outlaws from challenging her. The flagship’s graceful curves rendered her shape smooth and beautiful, the lines of a cutlass rather than a broadsword. Her hull was pristine and smooth. She was a peacekeeper, the mirror image of peace and prosperity.
The Olympia was new to the fleet. In just her eighth month of service, her days in battle were numbered. She normally lingered in the Homebound Sector, a position aboard the envy of every soldier in the fleet. The paramount of modern technology, the Olympia possessed a computer system with calculating power of every other ship in the battle fleet combined. Her seven engines – six auxiliary, one main – gave her agility on par with ships that were less than half her massive size.
All that prestige, power and beauty just made Cortana more upset every time she remembered her own destination: the blackened, blemished, Battleship Singularity. The oldest ship in the fleet and the only surviving former flagship, she was the last Hydrian War veteran left in service.
Most of the originally issued equipment was still on board. Not even the engines had been subjected to modernization. Alise shuddered to think of the computer systems: no network, fifty-year-old hardware and a unique, unsupported operating system. The entire ship was criminally outdated, kept only in service by Fleet Admiral Gives’ refusal to move his command elsewhere.
A subspace rupture appeared in view, a rainbow fissure in the dark of the void. Cortana hoped to see her new assignment emerge, even if just to end her boredom, but a small freighter popped into view and flew off, leaving the distortion field to dissipate.
She sighed. Apparently, the Singularity did not believe it important to arrive on time. It was 1225 hours, according to her watch. A mere half an hour late was odd, but not unheard of.
“It is not like Admiral Gives to be late,” someone said from behind her. She recognized the voice without looking at the weathered old man it belonged to.
This was the fourth time General Clarke had found her on the observation deck. She had grown comfortable in his presence. In this public setting, the formalities relaxed somewhat. “With all due respect, sir, nobody’s perfect.”
Clarke took another step forward, trusting his weight onto his wooden cane. “When it comes to running a ship, he’s about as good as it gets, Sergeant.” Admiral Gives singlehandedly had more experience in ship command than any other living officer, including all three generals combined. “If he’s bringing her back at all, they’ll be here by 1300 hours.”
“If?”
“I warned you before, Sergeant,” Clarke reminded. “The Steel Prince is loyal to no one.” That was what made him so dangerous. “He and I had an arrangement,” but Clarke was no more partners with Admiral Gives than he was with Reeter. “Be wary of his real intentions.” Not even Clarke truly understood Gives’ objectives, but if everything went the way it should, those intentions would never matter.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“You suggest he has an intention beyond serving Command, sir?” Cortana queried.
“Everyone in these worlds has their own intentions, Sergeant.” Admiral Gives was the least of them. “His apparent loyalty to Command has always been a matter of convenience.”
Cortana could not help the shiver that ran down her spine. Something about that was… disturbing. How did someone known to be disloyal to Command work his way into command of a ship, let alone the position of Fleet Admiral?
“Some thought him loyal to his power, or to the blood and carnage, but they too often confuse him for his predecessor.” Clarke knew better. Gives’ predecessor had been a monster of a man, but he’d been a predictable beast, hungering for bloodshed and butchery. Admiral Gives, the indomitable Steel Prince, was not so simple.
“I’m afraid that was before my time, General,” Cortana told him. She’d heard rumors of Gives’ predecessor, great and terrible rumors, but they were only that: rumors. The man had been dead for fifteen years, murdered aboard the decks of his former command by none other than the man who replaced him.
Clarke gave her a once over. Yes, he supposed. She was far too young to remember any of that. She would have been just a child. “Howard Brent was a psychopath, Sergeant, but he was brilliant.” Command had known his habits. They’d been aware of the way he tortured his prisoners, the way he tortured his allies, even the way he drew out his campaigns to inflict maximum suffering upon his enemies. “He took pleasure in crossing lines that others never would. It made him unbeatable.” A part of Clarke still admired the man, if only for his success, while his methods had been utterly disturbing. “He was a demon in physical form, and he thrived in the chaos of the Frontier Rebellion. He became the deadliest commander these worlds had ever seen, and he never lost a battle. People expected him to go down in history as the greatest war mind of all time.” Command had washed out his crimes on the Frontier, buried the evidence to treat the man as a hero. “No one expected him to die the way he did.”
Cortana swallowed, finding her throat dry. “Why are you telling me this, sir?”
“You think them rumors, Sergeant.” The worlds had maintained an illusion of peace since the end of the Frontier Rebellion. Rumors of greatness and violence felt distant in this era. “But there is truth buried in every rumor.” Those concerning the Steel Prince were usually more truth than lie. “Howard Brent only ever lost one battle, Sergeant. He lost his life to a man that never even wanted to fight.” There was an irony to that Clarke supposed. “Someone as young as you cannot fathom what Admiral Gives is to these worlds.” He’d eclipsed Brent’s mass number of victims in only a few years. “Humanity’s corrupt worlds fear him more than they ever did Brent, because a selfish monster can be controlled. But how do you reign in a monster that cannot be bought?” It could not be done, and worlds like New Terra learned that the hard way. So, the rest of the worlds had hid in fear, praying that monster would not come for them. “What he achieved in the first few years of his command was thought impossible.”
The glory and terror of it was almost incomprehensible. “The perfect killing machine. That’s what you called him when we first spoke.” It seemed Sergeant Cortana understood some measure of the man’s capabilities, but that was the recycled disgust of Secretary Gives, who had stood in horror of his older brother’s accomplishments. “You have no real measure of his capability, Sergeant. These worlds elevated a notorious psychopath to being a hero, yet were frightened enough to vilify the Steel Prince because they couldn’t identify his intentions. All they saw was an executioner who had no reason to kill. He had no motive, he took no satisfaction, and he possessed no emotion.” The worlds had rejected it, rejected him. “That was over a decade ago. Since, these worlds have tried to rationalize what he did. They’ll call him mad, even vengeful. They’ll confuse him with his demented predecessor. The bravest might even call him weak, but the simple reality is that he is the only man these worlds have ever truly feared.”
With the worlds bound again for civil war, that fear was the only force powerful enough to broker peace. “It won’t take much to remind the worlds what he is.” Reeter for all his plots and schemes, lacked the controlling force of fear. “He need only one more kill to cement his legend.” And Cortana, little did she know, would play a critical role in that.
“With all due respect, General, I know Admiral Gives’ exploits all too well.” Secretary Gives had told her every story there was to tell. “But everyone knows he hasn’t seen real combat since New Terra.” Those in the fleet still feared his penchant for killing other officers, but he was no longer a real threat to the worlds. “The Secretary said he’d lost interest in the worlds.” So, what reason did the worlds have to fear him?
The lines on the General’s eyes crinkled, poorly masking cruel amusement. Pity the fool. “Sergant, when you sail between these worlds long enough, you become separate from them. Terran soil no longer grounds you. Planets no longer become a home, merely another rock in the void. Few sailors ever gain that perspective. Fewer still survive it.” The void usually swallowed those that lost their tethers whole. “What everyone forgets is that Admiral Gives assigned himself to those patrols. It was his decision to spend the last decade of his career wandering the edge of the unknown. It was his choice to let these worlds forget their fear, but no one in these worlds acts without another intention. Not even him.” The worlds had failed to comprehend that intention, but that made it no less real.
“Alas,” General Clarke allowed, “perhaps it is your benefit not to know the Prince’s true nature.” Else, she might be disinclined to step aboard his ship. There was a reason her mission had not yet been disclosed to her, the same reason Clarke himself would never dare to set foot aboard those cursed decks. He hummed, admiring Sergeant Cortana’s disdain for the man that would serve as her commanding officer. That resolve would serve her well. “I must go prepare for his return.”
Sergeant Cortana watched Clarke shuffle away, the tip of his cane tapping across the deck. A terrible sinking feeling rose in her stomach. She knew she was caught up in something she did not yet understand. General Clarke had no reason to show interest in her reassignment. He had no reason to discuss the Admiral with her, but she understood no more now than she had days ago. Until the matter was revealed to her, she could only stand and wait.
At 1258 hours, the picture out the window remained unchanged. She was left to wonder. What would happen to her if the Singularity did not return? Maybe it’s for the best, she thought. Another assignment, any other assignment would be in her favor.
But that pit in her stomach only grew when she saw it. A stay line of light between the Olympia and Base Oceana. Swirling with ethereal color it was much closer than its predecessors. It seemed almost misplaced, present for barely a moment before it widened into a flash.
When the light faded, it was all Cortana could do to swallow her gasp and stumble back. Ugly, mottled black armor had swallowed the view, and blotted out the stars. But that wasn’t the problem, the problem was the vengeance that twisted the air. It yanked at her guts until fear crept up the back of her neck.
That’s unnatural. Hulking metal could not possibly transmit such a powerful air of emotion. But it did, and the others on the observation deck felt it too.
They were on their feet in an instant, fear alight in their eyes. Some tore their eyes away, as if to ignore the heat of the anger, but there was no avoiding it. It burned like an open flame, something that could be felt on the skin even as one turned from its source.
“No,” came the whisper from an old officer on the deck, backing away in terror. “It’s back. The Demon is back.” His breath came shakily. “What have they done?” He fled the observation deck, and everyone else followed him, clearly unnerved as a radiological alert began to wail on the deck.
Cortana only stood there, locked in equal parts awe and horror as she stared up at the battleship’s old, angular form. It was nothing like the Olympia. The scars of old wars riddled its black hull, and stripes the color of fresh blood traced its shape like the silhouette of a knife yanked from a stab wound.
It was garish. It was big. And it carried an unholy presence, charging the vacuum with a physical tension. A challenge had been issued. While the Singularity nearly filled the starscape of the observation deck, the ship was clearly closer to the Olympia than it was to Base Oceana. Cortana could nearly picture the two ships locked in arms.
But a stillness answered the Singularity’s arrival. Neither ship moved. No explosions lit the void. There was only an eerie hush.