Homebound Sector, Haven System, Base Oceana
She could never place a finger on why it was she found him so interesting. Was it his intelligence? Was it his lack of emotion? Or was it simply the mystery? She wished she knew. Working with Admiral Reeter to kill him had not been her first choice, but it had proved the most viable.
She watched Admiral Gives stand by the windows of Base Oceana’s conference room, calm as ever. It was easy to tell what held his attention. The Singularity lingered unusually close to Base Oceana, and as far as she could tell, his thoughts never wandered far from the old ship. The same was true physically. In the last two years, he and the Singularity had been in separate star systems only once, and even then, only for a few hours.
She had been observing and interfering amongst humanity for decades now. Most of them were simple creatures, driven by lust, power or pride. Admiral Gives was a strange case. She could never truly define his motivations in her research. Any opinions he held, he kept to himself. He spoke little unless he had something important to say – almost machine-like in regard to that and his total lack of outward emotion. Such a disposition was rare these days, perhaps even unique. It would have made him an ideal partner. Likely, he was one of very, very few who would have truly understood and respected her intentions.
But none of that meant anything now. The Steel Prince was meant to die today.
Where he stood, Admiral Gives was well aware of the fact he was being watched. He was very perceptive of such things, but simply chose to ignore it. He had enough enemies to know that his every move would be watched on Base Oceana, but he did not truly care. He just wanted a moment of peace on this damn space station. He just wanted to stare out at his ship because he rarely, so rarely, got to actually see her. It was the reality of ship command that he spent most of his time on board, working, unable to appreciate the ship in her full glory.
By mass and length, the primary measures of ship size, the Singularity was the largest ship in the UCSC fleet. When both ships flew in a lateral orientation, the Olympia was shorter in length but taller in height, so her volume capacity remained approximately equal to the Singularity’s, though the old dreadnaught was generally considered to be larger.
The Singularity’s longer, slender build harkened back to the old shipyards. Built and launched from a planetary gravity well, the old ship’s vertical height had been maxed at what the shipyards’ cranes and support structures could hold. The weight of added height would have been difficult to sustain, but adding length allowed more supports to be built in contact with the ground. It had not been nearly as important a constraint.
The Olympia, built in modern shipyards outside a gravity well, had been built without those height restrictions, but possessed a superstructure that was untested by gravity. Pieces of the Olympia’s architecture had been left graceful and purposeless, while every contour of the Singularity’s design held a critical function, not a line of engineering sketches wasted.
The Flagship Olympia was designed to be pretty – a tribute to the grace of the central planets. The Singularity, by comparison, was rather plain. No thought had been given to her aesthetics. She had been designed for functionality above all else, but that did not make her ugly. Even showing her age in fading paint and blemished armor, she was beautiful, and there was hell to pay if anyone said otherwise in Admiral Gives’ presence.
General Clarke, among others, called him possessive when it came to the Singularity. Maybe Clarke was right, but Admiral Gives was always striving to protect a good ship and a good crew from the cruel nature of the worlds. At times, that made him ruthless and possessive. It made him a monster, but as he looked out the windows of the conference room, where his ship hung close, he regretted absolutely none of it.
The Singularity was a good ship. She was his ship and the vehement waves of anger radiating off the hull did not unnerve him as it did others. He had seen this before. The blood thirst was overwhelming, but underneath all that rage was another emotion: sorrow. It was buried, hidden beneath that fury, but it was still there.
Some saw only the revival of the infamous Bloody Singularity there, but there was now a sulking shadow on the hull that had never been present in the Hydrian War: regret. Humanity had once feared the Bloody Singularity because, of all the emotions she could seem to mirror, regret had never been among them. There had been arrogance towards the lives taken in the War. They had not been human. But the Frontier Rebellion had brutally stripped that innocence away.
Though deep in thought, standing with his back to the door, Admiral Gives was immediately aware when Reeter entered the room. The younger Admiral carried himself proudly, his footsteps more than audible. “You are late.”
“I apologize, sir, something came up.” The eavesdropping armory officer had proved to be little more than an annoyance, thanks to Reeter’s partner in crime, but it had still taken several minutes to deal with the evidence.
“Drop that contemptuous act of yours, Admiral.” Admiral Gives was in no particular mood to deal with it. “I know you do not respect me as your superior officer, and that is not why I am here.”
Reeter reevaluated the man. He was an interesting case. A failure, but an interesting case all the same. Maybe that was why, even as his hand rested on his sidearm, he hadn’t shot the old bastard yet. He was curious about what the once-great Steel Prince had to say. “In that case, why are you here?”
“I am here to represent my ship, as you are here to represent your cause.” Admiral Gives watched a trio of Warhawks launch from the Singularity’s portside bay, heading directly for Ariea’s azure atmosphere. They were little more than specks from here, but that was Colonel Zarrey’s strike team, and that meant it was time to get down to business.
Reeter followed his attention to the dilapidating dreadnaught. “I will never understand your dedication to that ship.” It was so peculiar. “All I see is a bucket of bolts with a bad attitude.”
“I never asked anyone to understand.” Admiral Gives did not care if people thought him insane. The worlds had never viewed him as a functional person anyway. He finally turned to face Reeter and indicated to the conference table. “Sit.”
There was nothing courteous about the instruction. Admiral Gives was wearing the stone-faced expression that gave nations their reckoning. Reeter selected a chair that looked into space, remembering too late that the Olympia’s usual presence was currently blotted out entirely by the Singularity. As much as he hated to admit it, the ship’s air of anger, coupled with the Admiral’s lack thereof made him uneasy. It was backwards, wrong. “What is it that you require of me?”
“Your resignation.”
Reeter resisted the urge to laugh. “My resignation?” What a naïve request. “I think you know it’s a little too late for that.” Even if Admiral Gives forced him to resign, the New Era would simply reinstate him and carry on with their plans. The movement was simply too many and too powerful to stop now. “That request is most unlike you, Prince.” It was strangely docile, far from the usual methods. “Why so coy?”
“Because I was instructed not to kill you.”
Reeter coughed, a spasm of surprise catching him midbreath. Well, that was blunt. “I can’t help but wonder why you would want to do that.”
Admiral Gives stared right into Reeter’s amused eyes. As far as he cared, they were the green eyes of the devil. That amusement of his would be short lived. “You murdered thirty-two of my crew.” It was completely unforgivable.
Only thirty-two? That was a disappointing kill count for a tactical nuclear warhead. Still, he forced a smile to his lips. “You cannot prove that.”
“The missile casing fragment found wedged into the bulkheads of my ship says otherwise.”
So, there was evidence. It still meant nothing. “That warhead was released accidentally.” The press had already been fed a proper story and the crewman held accountable had been bribed to confess. It was all taken care of. Fragment or not, Admiral Gives had no real evidence. As far as the worlds would ever know, the Singularity had suffered from a terrible accident.
“Do not take me for a fool,” Admiral Gives warned. “It takes two sets of authorization codes to activate a warhead: those of the commanding officer and those of Command.” Such a weapon could not be armed, fired and aimed to the Kalahari Sector on accident. “I know you attacked with the intent to sink my ship. What I want to know is why.”
“Is it not obvious?” Reeter chuckled, “I wanted you dead, Prince.” A peculiar cold seeped into the older officer’s expression. “That’s right. I killed thirty-two of your precious minions to get to you. Does that make you angry?”
Oh, Admiral Gives was far beyond angry. “I thought I had made my intentions clear, Admiral.” He had spent months rendering his ship’s movements unpredictable and unobtrusive. “I intended to make no move against you or your movement.” Now his hand had been forced. He had to disembowel the New Era in order to protect his ship and her crew. “You had no need to attack the Singularity.”
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“It was nothing more than a statement to my followers. I will not be the failure that you were. I will save these worlds. I will create a better, safer, kinder humanity. One where everyone is equal, where it does not matter where you were born, or who your parents were.” That was his goal.
Reeter knew he was a savior. He did not need everyone else to believe that. “The New Era will create a better future for all of us, but you, Prince, you represent the failure of such goals. Your crew is formulated from the worthless scum that humanity can do without. And your ship, stars, she has become the mirror of everything that is wrong with humanity: hate, murder and anger. That machine was terribly and irreparably tainted by you and your predecessor. There is no place for such imperfections in my paradise.”
“It is the very nature of humanity to be flawed, Admiral.” Admittedly, the Singularity and her crew easily represented those flaws, but that did not make them wrong. It did not make them evil. It made them real. “As to my own crimes… If answering for them would guarantee my ship’s safety, then I would.”
Again, that was strangely docile. It seemed the Steel Prince was holding back. But then, it had been years since Reeter had been face to face with him. Maybe those years out in the void had broken him. “What happened to you?” Where was the heartless mastermind that had ended so many rebellions at so high a cost?
There was no real answer to that question. Admiral Gives was just very tired. He was tired of the fight. He’d been fighting this fight for his entire life, and what did he really have to show for it? It was clear enough that there was never going to be any meaningful peace among the worlds. “Admiral, you should know that I do not agree with you and your intentions. But you should have also understood that I was willing to let that pass.” But not anymore. Reeter had brought harm to the one thing Admiral Gives cared most about. Plain and simple, that meant war. “Consider this meeting a courtesy to you and your followers. Disband or else.”
Reeter unsnapped the cover of his holster, the noise echoing in the empty room. “Is that a threat against the New Era, Prince?”
“It became a promise the moment you moved against my ship.” Reeter and his self-righteous compatriots had made a grave error. “I will destroy any future you wish to create.” Any future where his ship was unwelcome would be torn to shreds by any means necessary. “You have made an enemy out of me, Admiral, and that was a mistake.”
Reeter considered the look in Gives’ cold blue eyes. “We are not your enemy.” The New Era stood for everything the Prince had fought for his entire career. They stood for everything he had betrayed the moment he refused to save the worlds. “Imagine a galaxy where children no longer have to be stillborn, where people no longer die of incurable illness, where the worthy can live forever, and the evil can be put to good use.”
“And you plan to decide who is unworthy and who is worthy for every member of the human race? You plan to tell a child that her father must die because he is not smart enough or not strong enough to be a perfect member of the human race?” The New Era and everything it stood for was a corrupt dream. “Humanity is not perfect, and it never will be.” To be human was to be emotional, to be cruel, and to be kind. Kindness itself was an illogical imperfection of humanity. It was a weakness, one that was always taken advantage of.
The New Era’s ideals of selective survival and perfection made no real sense. There would always be resistance, and where there was resistance, there was violence. It would not bring peace. It was pointless. “You are not perfect, Admiral Reeter. You cannot make the judgements on who lives and who dies for the entire human race.”
“No, you are the one who is so, so far from perfect, that you no longer believe it exists. You were too deeply flawed, too riddled by old scars, too haunted by what happened to your family to believe in anything. You do not believe the universe will ever be fair because it never was to you. But I intend to make it fair, in every way that you were not strong enough to. And I would expect you of all to understand that goal.” But it seemed that the call for the greater good had left the Steel Prince some time ago.
Charleston Reeter wrapped his fingers around his gun, feeling the contours of its grip. “You, just like me, have suffered your whole life in this unfair system, in this corrupt republic. But there is nothing left of who you once were. You were cut and damaged and betrayed too many times. Now, you are just a broken old soldier, one who could have saved the worlds, and chose instead to hide from them.”
A silence filled the room. Admiral Gives said nothing. He had nothing to say. Reeter was right. The once-great Steel Prince had chosen to hide from the worlds for twenty years, trying to atone for the crimes of humanity in his own way. He had given everything to a cause that he did not truly believe in – fought a lifetime for a future of peace he would never live to see.
Admiral Gives had learned a long time ago that someone like him had no real place in these worlds. He had no place now and he had no place in that grand future of perfection and happiness, because he represented neither. He represented the harsh and cruel place that was reality. Every pretty ideal that he once believed in had been torn from him years ago.
With his ultimate belief in the greater good, maybe Reeter would save the worlds, maybe he wouldn’t, but billions would die in the process, among them the Singularity’s crew. And as dysfunctional as he was, Admiral Gives could not accept that future. The greater good that required such sacrifices was long dead to him. He could sense the Singularity’s looming presence behind him, a reminder to fight for another outcome. Regardless of whether it made him right or wrong, his path was set in stone. “I will oppose your intentions.”
“And that’s why I’m here to finish what I started.” Reeter grabbed onto his gun, but never managed to get it out of the holster.
The knife sailed by, nicking his neck before clattering to the ground somewhere behind his chair. Blood spurted from the wound, running down to stain the elegant silver stitching on the collar of Reeter’s uniform. If it had been thrown a faction of an inch to the left, it would have sliced right through his cardioid artery. He would have bled out in seconds.
Reeter hadn’t even seen him draw the blade. No doubt, there was more than one hidden up the sleeves of the Prince’s black jacket. If he went for his gun again, the Prince would not hesitate to kill him.
Admiral Gives barley addressed the incident, moving to rest his hands calmly on the table. “Let us handle this like civilized adults.” He already regretted the fact he hadn’t sent that knife straight into Reeter’s neck and claimed it was an accident. The ghost would trust his word, but he still refused to lie to her. Now he was sitting at a table with a man set on killing him, having thrown away the only weapon he’d had on him. It was turning out to be a wonderful day. “I am prepared to offer your movement a colony world on which to put your beliefs into action, but I cannot condone the application of selective slaughter onto unwilling populations.”
“That would defeat the purpose.”
Admiral Gives had thought as much. “Your group has three days to disband. I will be taking General Clarke’s position at that time. Anyone caught supporting the New Era’s beliefs will be arrested and put on trial for supporting a plot of mass murder.”
Reeter sighed. What a nuisance. “I think you know that will amount to nothing.” It was too late.
“You underestimate my dedication.” He would find some way to put a stop to this peacefully. He would find another way. He would not let his crew, his ship be dragged back into the worlds’ churning violence. They deserved better.
Reeter smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry, Prince. We’ve already begun our plans. Nothing you do will truly matter.” He had chosen to care too late. “Your end will come, but not before I have the privilege of defiling that old ship you’re so attached to.”
“That will never happen.” Admiral Gives would be dead before he allowed Reeter to set foot on his ship.
Reeter just sat there, happily showing his perfect teeth. “You’ll deliver her straight to me.” This was his failsafe, his backup plan. And it involved little miss Amelia Kleinfelter.
Admiral Gives stood, sick of this meaningless discussion. The insinuation that he would ever willingly hand his loyal old ship over to Reeter was a terrible insult to him. “I have said what I needed to say.” He had wasted enough of Reeter’s time. Zarrey’s team should have completed their objective by now. “You would do well not to ignore it.”
Reeter watched him leave, unimpressed. Once the door slammed behind him, the young man moved to go take his place at the window that dominated the wall of the conference room. Charleston Reeter stared at the menacing Battleship Singularity. “Your end is coming,” he told the old ship. This game was nearing its end. Admiral Gives was being backed into a corner like the diseased animal he was.
“You know that old machine can neither see you nor comprehend you, do you not?”
“It’s a human superstition that ships have spirits, Manhattan,” he told his white-haired accomplice. “You should know that.”
Manahattan frowned, but proceeded to ignore the comment. “Why didn’t you kill him?”
Well, the throwing knives derailed that plan. That, and Reeter simply could not resist temptation. “I want to play with the old bastard.” He wanted to truly destroy the man his followers so feared, because there was no real reason to fear him. The Steel Prince was little more than a decaying shell these days. “They say that ship is the only thing he really cares about anymore.” Reeter licked his lips, “I want him to watch me gut her. Hell, I might even give her a pivotal role in this plan of mine, just so he has to watch his precious ship betray him.”
“Why?” What purpose could that truly serve? Reeter had already claimed the Singularity unfit for service in the New Era. The ship was old and tainted by previous crimes.
“I want to make the great Steel Prince cry.” Reeter intended to remind the man quite thoroughly of his flaws.
“Charleston, you told me I could have the ship and the corpses.”
“And you will… After I am through playing.” What was the point in taking over the worlds if he did not get to have some fun? “Has that virus of yours produced anything useful yet, Manhattan?”
“No,” she responded.
“Keep working. I want to know how they managed to survive that nuke.” She had offered to dig up that information using a virus she had planted within the Singularity’s computers, and he expected results. “You can leave everything else to me,” Reeter told her, turning to rudely look over her figure.
She had learned to ignore Reeter’s lewd looks. He couldn’t touch her even if he wanted to. Sometimes it paid not to live in the physical realm. “And how do you intend to take care of Admiral Gives once he has taken Clarke’s position over?”
Wordlessly, Reeter pulled a document out of his jacket pocket and let her read through it.
It took her only a moment. “Well done.” That legal marriage document between himself and Amelia held a clause that granted Reeter the right to see Harrison at any time. “I see why you asked me to release the widow’s location.”
It was a trap.
By rescuing Amelia and the boy from that location, Gives was refusing the legal rights of that document. It was criminal. That, combined with other charges, would be more than enough to arrest him.