Twenty minutes later, Homebound Sector, Haven System, Base Oceana
Lieutenant Montgomery Gaffigan kicked at the pristine decks of Base Oceana. “Find our own way back?” he huffed contemptuously, echoing the Admiral’s words, “Easier said than fucking done, sir.”
Alba, walking beside the armory officer, just shrugged. It didn’t feel great to have the Admiral fly them here, and then not fly them back, but he understood. “Well, he and Reeter are likely going to try and kill one another.” It was something Alba certainly did not want to be caught in the middle of. “And he did tell us he could wait until the meeting was over, if we wanted to fly back with him.”
“And ride back with the Steel Prince while he’s covered in the life blood of a self-proclaimed god? No thank you.” Monty just had the feeling that meeting was going to get messy, and he’d rather not be there when it happened. “Have you ever seen him kill anyone, Alba?”
The engineering bridge officer shuddered involuntarily. “No.”
“Neither have I.” The Admiral was strangely calm on the ship. Despite all the rumors of his violence, the man was polite and patient in Monty’s experience. Even calm, he was plenty scary, but it was odd.
Squeamish in all things involving gore and violence, Alba knew seeing the Admiral kill anyone would be exceptionally disturbing. He desperately changed the subject as his stomach churned. “Come on, Monty,” he started down an emptier hall, “Let’s try and hitch a ride with one of the supply runners.”
Gaffigan didn’t argue. He happily followed Alba away from the crowds. He could feel the weight of the crowd’s gazes. He could sense their judgement. It was the welcome he’d come to expect in the Homebound Sector. With the Singularity’s ship patch on his sleeve, the personnel on Base Oceana assumed him to be either incompetent or a criminal. Monty didn’t particularly care about their opinions, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to pick a fight on the basis of respective ship assignments, so it paid not to linger.
Alise Cortana struggled to catch up with the Admiral’s subordinates in the bustle of Base Oceana’s larger corridors. When they split off into an emptier section of the station, she picked up her pace, but no matter how she moved, she couldn’t seem to catch up.
They turned a sharp corner ahead of her, out of sight for just a moment, but when she turned the same corner, it turned to be a dead end. An empty dead end. “What the hell?”
Someone thudded down onto the deck behind her, and a cold barrel was pressed against the back of her head. “Get your hands where I can see them,” the man behind her ordered.
Alise quickly dropped the duffel she’d slung over her shoulder and put her hands up in surrender.
“Who are you and why are you following us?”
She was so sick of this base and everyone on it. Standing around for the last few days had gotten on her nerves. “Sergeant Alise Cortana. I’m just looking for a ride, asshole.”
It was only then that Monty bothered to look at the sleeve of her uniform jacket. “Oh.”
The pressure on the back of her head vanished. Cortana turned to face her ambusher, who was none other than the red-haired officer she’d been following. He laughed awkwardly. “Our bad. We thought you were one of Reeter’s cronies.”
She stared at him. “What?”
Monty could tell by the annoyed look on her face that she had no idea what he was talking about. It wasn’t something he particularly wanted to explain at the moment. “Never mind.” He offered out a hand, “Lieutenant Montgomery Gaffigan, chief armory officer for the Battleship Singularity.”
Alise took his handshake, giving the Lieutenant a once-over. His hair was a bright, fiery red, including a beard, which was trimmed at the maximum allowed length. His uniform was standard: black jacket, black pants. He had the Singularity’s red and yellow patch on one sleeve, and two white bands on the other, the indication of his rank. What he didn’t have was a holster on his belt. “Where’s your gun?” The one he’d just put against her head?
“Back on the ship. I don’t make a habit of carrying it.” He held up a silver cylinder, “You’re looking for this: Alba’s flashlight.”
“You threatened me with a flashlight?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Monty didn’t see the problem. “I had to improvise.” The Marine was clearly not amused. He sighed. Great. Another hardass from Command. This attitude of hers would probably last about a week aboard ship, but it would be annoying as hell until then. He looked up to the ceiling, “Alba, are you going to come down from there, or just wait ‘til you pass out?”
Alba crossed his arms where he hung from his magboots. “I like it up here.”
All the blood was rushing to his head, flushing his face. “Uh-huh.” Monty didn’t believe that for a second. “You’re stuck, aren’t you?”
Alba turned a fractional degree redder where he was suspended from the ceiling like a bat. “This was your stupid idea, Monty.”
Gaffigan stepped over to help Alba get down. “It was a great plan. No one ever looks up.” They’d managed to get the drop on a trained Marine.
After realizing they were being followed, Alba had activated his magnetic boots and stuck himself to the metal ceiling of Base Oceana. From there, he had held Monty up and then swung him over the Marine’s head, allowing Monty to threaten her with something that felt like a gun.
Alise watched the Lieutenant pull his comrade down, observing the pair of them. Wait. The pair of them? “There were three of you. Where did the third one go?”
Monty leaned Alba against the sterile white walls of Base Oceana, letting him catch his bearings as he recovered from being upside-down. “Who? Letts?” Monty shrugged carelessly, “He’s probably off to go smuggle something.”
“Smuggle something?” It’s true, she realized with disdain. She had been assigned to a ship full of criminals.
“Letts is quite the entrepreneur, really. The Singularity has better range, speed and storage capacity than most cargo liners. He can get anything, anywhere.” Using the ship to occasionally smuggle something was nothing short of brilliant.
“That is illegal.”
“Only sometimes.” Monty argued. “He doesn’t always move illegal cargo.”
“You can’t use an active military ship for profitable trade. It’s illegal.” Why was she the only one that seemed to know or care about the regulations? “I’ll be reporting this smuggling business of yours directly to the commanding officer.” She would put a stop to it immediately. She refused to serve on a ship engaged in criminal activity.
Monty burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. “Oh, the Admiral knows. Who do you think told Letts to do it?” The profits of Letts’ side business went into the ship’s account, which paid for the hull paint, high quality oil and tools, as well as the occasional bonus for the crew. “Take it from me, Sarge, we have our own way of doing things.” Aboard ship, they broke an obscene number of Command’s regulations every day. Cortana would certainly undergo an adjustment period. He looked over to the engineer, “You ready to go?”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Alba nodded, staring up at the ceiling, “Do you think they’ll notice?”
Monty followed his gaze to the two distinctly foot-shaped dents left by Alba’s magboots. “Probably best we don’t stick around to find out.”
“Yeah,” Alba agreed. He should have known to adjust his boots. Base Oceana’s metals were far more magnetic than the Singularity’s outer hull. The setting he had used to anchor himself to the ship for hull work was much too strong for Base Oceana, deforming the metal and getting him stuck.
“Let’s go.” Monty stepped back out into the corridor, only to roughly bump into someone. “Sorry-” He’d been about to add a ‘sir,’ until he recognized who had just shouldered him aside.
“Out of my way, I’m late,” Admiral Reeter huffed, not giving the interruption any more attention than that.
Monty leapt back and watched the man pass, praying that Reeter would not turn and recognize them, or more specifically, the flaming sun insignia on their uniforms. Next to him, Alba held his breath, hoping the same.
Sergeant Cortana turned to glare at the redhead. “That should have been a ‘sorry, sir.’” She yelped in surprise when Monty clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Shhh,” the armory officer hissed, his carefree attitude gone in the blink of an eye. Despite the noise, Reeter kept right on walking. It seemed luck was on their side for the time being.
Alise tore his hand off her face after a moment. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Monty ignored her, looking to Alba, “What the hell is Reeter doing down here? He’s supposed to be meeting the Admiral in the conference room.”
“He said he was late,” the engineer offered.
“But the conference room is the other way!” No. Monty was certain there was something else going on. And was that a sidearm he’d seen strapped to Reeter’s hip? Dammit. Maybe the meeting was already over. The armory officer made an impulsive decision. “I’m going to follow him, see what’s going on. Take the Sarge back to the ship, and if I don’t make it back… Well, you’ll know what happened.”
“Monty, wait!” Alba called, but it was no use. The armory officer didn’t even look back.
Alise started after him, but found her arm caught in the engineer’s grip. For a lanky technician that looked no older than twenty, he had a strong grip. “Let go!”
”No.”
Cortana went still, hearing the fear in the young ensign’s voice. She hadn’t expected that from the boyish engineer. He and Gaffigan had seemed so carefree, but now, all of a sudden, there was darkness about them.
“You don’t understand, Sergeant.” Alba shook his head, “We just lost thirty-two members of our crew. Thirty-two friends.” Tears were pricking at his eyes as he tried to blink them away. The lights of Base Oceana swam above him. “Reeter killed them. He murdered them.”
Reeter would never. He was the fleet’s golden boy. He starred in all the recruitment propaganda. “That sounds more like the Steel Prince’s forte to me.”
Alba shoved her into the wall. “Shut up.” Why couldn’t she just be quiet? “Admiral Gives almost died getting us out of the Aragonian Sector.” If it hadn’t been for him, they probably would have been dead before they even got there. “He spent months trying to keep us out of that fight.” Admittedly, the crew hadn’t known that until recently, but it still mattered. It changed their perspective on his recent distance. “Don’t act like you know him and don’t act like you’re one of us, because right now, you’re not.” She was a stranger.
As quickly as the crew had seemed to recover, that was a necessity of their position. They did not have time to grieve. Truly, death was not uncommon in the fleet. They had all lost comrades before, but in such large numbers, it multiplied the pain.
In general, losses were rare on the Singularity. The ship had the lowest casualty rate in the fleet. Admiral Gives, for whatever twisted sense of morality he guided himself by, was very good at keeping his crew alive. The crew respected that, even if they were not truly certain if their survival was the product was raw talent or dedicated intent.
Down the corridor, deep in Base Oceana’s lower military decks, the strong, sculpted form of Admiral Reeter stepped into the dead end where he had been summoned. Unbeknownst to him, Lieutenant Gaffigan pressed up against the wall nearby, eavesdropping.
“General Quentin, why have you called me here?” Reeter demanded impatiently. This had been a very inconvenient walk.
Quentin shushed him, “Do you want us to be overheard?”
Coward. Reeter was disgusted by the sheen of nervous sweat he saw on the General’s face. Not for the first time, Reeter wondered how Quentin had weaseled his way into power. “What is the problem?”
“You said it was taken care of.”
Reeter rolled his eyes. This man was truly pathetic. He believed in nothing but the selfish comforts of an easy life with power. He followed whoever could promise that. “The Prince will be dead soon enough.” He tapped the gun strapped to his hip, “I’ll be taking care of that myself.”
Monty’s instincts had proved him right. Following Reeter had been the right decision. A recording of this conversation would be evidence enough to imprison Reeter. Threatening the Fleet Admiral’s life was high treason against the Ariean Central Government. Gaffigan unclipped his personal communicator from his belt and flipped it open silently, beginning to record what he could.
“I don’t think Gives is your only problem anymore, Reeter,” Quentin hissed. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” He’d started a war that they were going to lose. “You resurrected the spirit of the Bloody Singularity.”
“Do not let your superstition interfere with our plan, Quentin.”
The General threw his arms in the air. “You’re too young to remember what it was like.” Reeter was far too young to remember the Singularity’s black legacy. Quentin himself did not remember the former flagship’s days of heroism in the War. He had grown up hearing about the Bloody Singularity’s atrocities in the Frontier Rebellion. Her guns left only imbrued crimson wreckage behind.
There were very few truly religious groups among any of Ariea’s colonies, but every church or cult on the Frontier vowed the Singularity would be hunted by the demons it put to death, haunted into eternity by the malignant spirits it had created during the Rebellion. Many people bought into ghouls as an excuse for the Singularity’s exacerbated aura, especially since rumors of the ship being haunted were spread by her crewmen.
But the Rebellion had been years ago. The only thing Reeter had ever seen was the apathetic shell the Singularity had become. Until now, it had been decades since anyone had seen a trace of the Bloody Singularity’s uncanny ambience. But now it was back in full force. Reeter was no longer squaring off against an aging dreadnaught. He was toe to toe with the deadliest warship in mankind’s history. And he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve been told the Singularity sinks once I take out the Prince.” That was good enough for Reeter. He wouldn’t be afraid of a machine’s odd appearance. It meant nothing to him.
“And your little accomplice told you that, did she?” Quentin could picture the pretty white-haired woman, but that façade of humanity would not fool him. “She is using you.”
“Our objectives are in line for now.” Beyond that, Reeter did not care about her intentions. Her power had proved useful in many ways.
“She’s not loyal to you.” Why was Quentin the only one who could see this insanity? “She has no interest in the betterment of humanity. She is not human.” Such an entity would have no interest in humanity’s future.
“You are quite right, General.” The voice echoed from the intercom speakers, disembodied and cold. “But then, that is why you all have proved so amusing. Your struggles are so irrelevant, so wasteful and so violent compared to my existence.” A chuckle emanated from the tasteless walls. “But you would be wise not to interrupt this little game of mine. I would not find that so amusing.”
Monty stood there, chills running down his spine. The Singularity was rumored to be possessed, but Base Oceana had faceless voices speaking from the walls. Somehow, that was backward.
“Besides, you all are so lucky to have a champion like me.” Another cold laugh filled the corridor. “Without me, you’d never know your entire conversation had been recorded by a nosy Lieutenant standing in the corridor.”
Shit. Monty barely had time to process the thought before Reeter’s heavy footsteps rounded the corner. He leapt back, barely managing to avoid Reeter’s first swipe. Monty knew he wasn’t escaping this. Reeter could shut down the station before he found a way off of it.
The armory officer started running, hitting the button to broadcast on his communicator. “Gaffigan to Singularity!” Reeter’s thundering footsteps were gaining on him. He heard Lieutenant Robinson start to respond in accordance with the regulations, but he knew there wasn’t time. “Keifer! I’m sending an audio file. It’s important!” He hit the button to send the file over the link, but Reeter tackled him to the ground a second later, and the communicator skidded across the floor.
Gaffigan was fit, but he wasn’t any match for Reeter’s size, strength or training. Reeter had him pinned down in seconds. “You’re going to regret this,” Reeter growled, his hot breath washing across the Lieutenant’s face.
Monty could see where he was pinned that the file was still sending. Robinson was desperately trying to raise him. “Monty! Do I need to send help?”
Reeter wrapped his hand around Gaffigan’s throat, watching the fear rise in his eyes. “No one can help you now.”
The world went black for Montgomery Gaffigan, and a second later, Reeter crushed the communicator beneath his heel, breaking the communications link it held with its base ship.
The recording never finished sending.