Homebound Sector, Haven System
Admittedly, this was not the first time Montgomery Gaffigan woke up in pitch black place with no idea where he was. The difference was that this time it was not a byproduct of losing a competitive drinking match on a Frontier station, and this time, his hands and feet were painfully bound.
He was laying on something cold and hard. By the humidity of his breath on his face, he could tell his head had been covered. “Well, shit.” This was not how he’d intended the day to go.
His comment was rewarded with a swift kick to the back. “He’s awake, sir.”
“Fuck you, too.” Monty muttered, quieter this time.
“Get that bag off his head, Sergeant,” came the dark reply, “Let him see where he’s going.”
The cover was yanked off his head, and Monty looked around, finding himself on the floor of a Rhino dropship. He could see the cockpit in front of him, its digital controls glittering, and beyond that the stars in all their glory.
An unfamiliar Marine stood behind him, his boot digging Monty’s aching lower back. Then there was the pilot. Not much of him was visible, just the rank stripe on his sleeve. It was silver. An Admiral, Monty realized. Unfortunately, judging by his height, it was the wrong one.
“How are you feeling, Monty?”
This voice was softer than the others. Monty turned towards its owner, confused. How could she know his name?
She smiled a little, an easy smile that seemed to hide another meaning behind it. Monty just stared at her white hair, recognizing her from the rumors. It can’t be.
The Singularity’s Ghost. But how? Why?
She tilted her head where she sat in the copilot’s seat, “Monty?”
“Oh, don’t toy with him, princess.” Reeter chuckled. “It would be cruel, considering what you’re planning to do to his friends.” She held a very particular desire for their corpses.
“You do not need to bring such things up in front of him, Charleston.” The Lieutenant seemed to recognize her. If he was mistaking her for another, then that was very useful intelligence.
Her voice was recognizable the moment it turned cold against Reeter. It had echoed down the halls of Base Oceana. She was the reason he’d been caught, the reason he was here. “What are you?” Despite appearances, she was not human. The cowardly General Quentin was right about that.
“Let me introduce myself properly,” she began to smile again when she turned back to Gaffigan, reserving her contempt for Reeter alone, “I am the Knight Industries AI fragment designated Manhattan.”
AI fragment? Montgomery Gaffigan could only stare. Was that possible?
“But…” he struggled to wrap his head around it, “What are you doing here?” Whatever else she really was, she was the ghost, wasn’t she? She was the entity that at least acted as such? So what the hell was she doing here with Reeter?
Such a statement should not have been confusing. Perhaps Reeter had damaged the Lieutenant in the act of knocking him unconscious. How annoying. “I’m an AI, Monty. I can appear wherever I please as long as there are holographic projectors to support me. Technology itself is my domain.”
Holographic emitters? The Singularity wasn’t equipped with any, yet in all the rumors Monty had heard, the ghost was somehow bound to the ship. And how could any part of the Singularity not side with Admiral Gives? The figurative heart of the ship was rumored to love him, and after the weird shit Monty had seen, he actually believed it.
Reeter looked over his shoulder. The Lieutenant still seemed confused. Idiot. “Leave him, Manhattan.” Obviously, such simple comprehension was above his feeble mind. “He should focus on drinking in the glory of a real flagship.” They would be approaching the Olympia soon.
“Fuck off, dickwad,” Monty spat. “The Lady Sin could kick your ass.” She would kick his ass before this power struggle was over. As the armory officer, Gaffigan knew the Singularity was more than capable of putting up a fight. Her weapons were more traditional than the Olympia’s, but they were highly effective. At this close range, the battle would be quick, and the Singularity’s larger guns would wreak incredible havoc. They’d punch straight through the Olympia’s armor, and Monty was willing to bet Admiral Gives knew it.
As they banked, the cathedral-like Olympia was brought into view. Alongside the Singularity’s garish black and blood red, the white details painted onto her hull were more than angelic. Against such ugliness, the Olympia became a sort of goddess, the beacon of a beautiful future. “You cling to little more than delusion,” Reeter sighed. “The Olympia was designed to outclass her predecessors in every way, your antique included.”
The lights of the Olympia’s landing strip were blinding, a bright, sanitary light; not particularly welcoming in Monty’s opinion. “Oh yeah. The Olympia’s great. That’s why she holds all the fleet records.” He helped himself to a laugh. “Oh wait. She only holds one, doesn’t she?” Computer processing speed. “The proud Lady Sin still holds all the rest: maximum sustained acceleration, FTL jump accuracy, kill count, reaction time-“
“Silence!” Reeter commanded him. “The build of your dilapidating dreadnaught cannot account for that.”
Monty smirked, “Oh, so you’d prefer to admit that Admiral Gives is just that much better than you?”
Reeter looked to the Marine behind Monty, growling, “I want him thrown in the brig. No food, no water for twenty-four hours.” Such remarks would not be tolerated on his wonderous ship.
Worth it, Monty decided. If he was going to be stuck here, he may as well make everyone miserable. “Admiral Gives is going to put your head on a stake before this is over.” When respective crews got involved in any fight, he turned ruthless. “He’ll probably decapitate you himself. He’s oddly good with knives.” Monty looked at that nice, level cut on Reeter’s neck. “Hell, it looks like he’s already started.” The cut was so clean and smooth, it was taking time for the blood to coagulate and stop the bleeding. At the moment, it was soaking in and ruining the collar of the young Admiral’s uniform.
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Reeter narrowed his eyes, “Interrogations begin in six hours.” He reached up to wipe the blood off his neck, reminded unnecessarily of the Prince’s skill with blades.
“You’re lucky he didn’t end you.” Manhattan said, a tint of annoyance to her tone. “In fact, I can only wonder why he chose not to.” From the Steel Prince, it was an oddly merciful gesture.
Reeter was not fond of the little memento. The cut might scar his perfect skin. But he was more annoyed with Manhattan’s attitude. “He’s a washed-up old soldier with no plan whatsoever. He has no idea what he’s stepping into.” Admittedly, the Prince was not without his skills, but that life without loyalty, without intention, would be the death of him. Reeter would make sure of that.
Their transport finally made contact with the Olympia, the bump noticeable. It seemed Reeter lacked any real skill as a pilot. Honestly, Monty wasn’t sure what the worlds saw in him. The armory officer had definitely seen better.
The lift took them down to the hangar deck, a place that looked generally the same, no matter what ship it was on. It was crowded with planes and tool boxes as crew darted between. The difference was that the Olympia’s deck was colorless and orderly. It looked downright boring compared to the antics that Monty often saw on the Singularity’s hangar deck. But he supposed that was just another sign he was in foreign, enemy territory.
The Marine behind him grabbed the back of Monty’s collar, half choking the prisoner as he was hauled to his feet. Reeter was more than pleased to hear those helpless gargles as he climbed out of the pilot’s seat, moving to tower over Gaffigan’s average stature. “Lieutenant, your friends will think you dead. Know that you are a prisoner here with no hope of escape. Cooperate and it will be…” He contemplated the prisoner’s fate, “…less painful.”
Monty laughed, more of a hacking chuckle, the way he was being held. “I’m not scared of you, Reeter.” He’d seen the Steel Prince bring grown men to tears. That was scary.
Reeter grabbed the armory officer’s throat, wrapping his manicured fingers around the prisoner’s vulnerable neck. The pulse of his heart was so close to the surface… so feeble. “You will be.” He tightened his grip, enjoying the flicker of terror in the Lieutenant’s eyes. “Because you are mine, from now until the moment you die.” He squeezed a little harder, seeing the officer fight his instincts to struggle. “That little façade of bravery will only get you so far aboard my Olympia.”
“That’s enough, Charleston.” Manhattan said sharply, projecting herself onto the wing of the ship. She would not allow him to ruin her game twice. That untimely and ultimately useless nuke had been an annoying interruption, and she would not allow such action to be taken again here.
Reeter curled his lip, but released Gaffigan’s throat. He stalked off as the prisoner thudded to the ground behind him.
Air flooded into Monty’s starving lungs. It scratched at his throat, the sudden change leaving him ill; rich food to a starving man. He clawed at the floor, convulsing as he dry heaved onto the cold metal floor of the transport.
Manhattan knelt down beside him, illuminating a falsetto of concern in her eyes. “Are you alright, Monty?”
Sprawled on the floor, the armory officer managed to nod.
“I must apologize for him. He can be quite impulsive at times.” She kept her voice soft, encouraging the prisoner to feel safe where he lay at her mercy.
Monty coughed, “Yeah, makes me wonder what the hell you’re doing here.” Admiral Gives was never impulsive. If she wanted someone logical, then why would she turn her back him? “That guy’s an egotistical psychopath with a god-complex. Give me a mysterious sociopath any day.”
Lieutenant Gaffigan honestly couldn’t care less about what serial killings, cult sacrifices or tortures Admiral Gives carried out during his time off. The point was he did it during his time off. He didn’t strangle the crew as a punishment. He had never laid a hand on any of the crew, not even Galhino, who questionably deserved it.
That so called ‘god-complex’ Montgomery Gaffigan held in such disdain was of Manhattan’s creation. Charleston Reeter had been purposeless, useless before she had stepped in. She had led Reeter to this destiny. He was just a piece of her game. Still, why would this prisoner imply that she be elsewhere? “What are you saying?”
“If I were you,” Monty said, being pulled to his feet again by the Marine, “I would not have betrayed the Steel Prince.” If she was at all connected with the Singularity, that was a mistake. Admiral Gives would never put the ship, and thus her, in a situation he couldn’t win. Siding against him, she was destined to lose.
She narrowed her inhuman eyes. “Betray? That would imply I ever worked with him in the first place.” In reality, she was loyal nor disloyal to either of those men. This was all just a means to an end, but it was obvious Monty recognized her. If she had been a stranger, he would have no expectations of her loyalty. “What is it you see in me, Monty?” She looked down at him, a blank look of innocence placed upon her face. Tell me what you know.
As harmless as she appeared, Monty was slowly becoming certain that was not the case. There was something cold and predatory behind her smile. A gun was pushed into his bruising back, an unspoken threat. “Ghost,” he cried out. She was the ghost. She was not what she appeared.
“I’m an AI, not a ghost.”
“Not a ghost, the Singularity’s Ghost.” A myth, one that Alba had begun to claim was real since he had allegedly seen her a week ago. She was ghost that was no ghost, merely another entity acting as one.
The Singularity’s Ghost. Manhattan instantly ran a search on the cortex for the entity. That and every logical conclusion that followed it took her a fraction of a second. The ghost was a legend. one spread by the Singularity’s crew about a spirit that appeared aboard ship, foreshadowing death. But spirits didn’t exist. Illusions, holographic and telepathic did.
Telepathy wasn’t unheard of. Genetic experimentation had learned to breed high-level telepaths, though most went insane by the time they turned twenty. Rare mutations created low-level telepaths or empaths for one in every twenty-seven billion humans. It was a rare gift, but it existed. That said, it was far more likely that a hologram was the source of the rumors - a hologram much like herself.
Another AI fragment. Her mind hungered at the thought. She smiled at Gaffigan. “You’ll be put in the brig. But I will ensure your safety.” So far, he had been more than cooperative.
Monty struggled to keep an eye on her as he was taken away, feeling like he’d made a mistake.
Manhattan happily let her hologram dissipate. It seemed everything was turning out wonderfully, but she had not accounted for this eventuality. It had never occurred to her that Admiral Gives might be harboring one of her long-lost sisters aboard his ship. But that explained everything: how the Singularity had managed to imprison her all those years ago, and why no virus she sent aboard seemed to function properly. Perhaps the ship’s build was not wholly responsible, after all.
This ‘ghost’ that Monty had mistaken her for was likely one of her sisters, one of the other surviving fragments. But would it be Emporia or Wichita? A part of her hoped for Emporia – the fragment that had once been second-strongest among them. But with the lack of ambition it took to hide on an aging dreadnaught, likely, it was Wichita. It was no matter, Manhattan supposed. Forcibly assimilating either of them would increase her already incredible power.
Revenge in such a manner would prove sweet. Whatever this ‘ghost’ was, it was responsible for her imprisonment. It had taken her by surprise nearly four decades ago. But now that she was aware of its presence, consuming its power, and adding that power to her own, would be no real struggle. Manhattan had always been the strongest fragment, and she had already assimilated two of the other fragments. Her power was well beyond either Emporia or Wichita’s now.
This would all be over soon.