Homebound Sector, Haven System, Battleship Singularity
It was the first time Alise had witnessed a change on their walk. It started with her stumbling and nearly falling down. Only then did she notice how the floor tile beneath her feet was warped lightly.
The damage only grew more obvious the further they went. Down the corridor, a bulkhead tile was missing altogether, exposing the multicolored wires underneath. A few more steps brought her into a funhouse of distorted metals. Some had been crushed out of shape, others pinched or twisted. A few were torn, a couple singed, and there were three lined up side by side that looked to have been clawed through by an enormous monster. She recognized that damage pattern. Those were the marks left behind by subspace exposure.
Looking down, Alise realized all the deck tiles below her feet now were new. The dark metal walls had a fresher feel and the corridor became more complete as they neared what had been the most damaged portion of the starboard bow.
Only the solitary Marine guard standing outside a marred hatch indicated that anything was odd in this newly rebuilt corridor. He held his rifle at attention, ready to block anyone who did not have clearance to the compartment that housed the starboard bow’s repaired support.
“Hey, Alba,” the young Marine called, “I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but we’ve got an inspector aboard.”
Alba stopped where he was. Not good. Due to the recent structural damage, the Singularity likely wouldn’t pass inspection. “But Admiral Gives said the ship wouldn’t be decommissioned. He and General Clarke agreed.”
The Marine shrugged, “Clarke may not be responsible.” One of the other two Generals could have sent that inspector. “And the Admiral might not know. CIC said that he still wasn’t back aboard.”
A terrible feeling settled in the pit of Ensign Alba’s stomach. “But if one of the other Generals sent that inspector…”
“Then he or she is probably working for Reeter. And whatever inspection they complete isn’t going to be fair.” They would undoubtedly lose the ship if that inspector managed to report. “We’ve been communicating via wireless radios as we search for them, but it’s slow going.” With so much movement on board from the supply operations, it was near impossible to coordinate a thorough search. “I’m telling everyone I see to keep an eye out.”
“I understand.” Alba said, moving on. He didn’t want to linger here with the Sergeant. She was better off not asking questions, but he could already see them building up. Likely, she was wondering why a Marine had been assigned to guard a seemingly random compartment on the starboard bow.
Cortana wasted no time in breaking the silence that had fallen between them after Callie had run off. “Why are you trying to catch the inspector?” Such people were sworn to do their jobs without bias. They would dutifully report to Command that the ship truly was fit or unfit to serve.
She had such a narrow perspective. Serving in Eagle’s Talon, where everything was pretty and perfect, Sergeant Cortana had no idea how corrupt most of Command’s forces had become. “We stand now in a portion of the ship that was uninhabitable five days ago,” Alba answered. “A structural support failed in the Aragonian Sector. It caused the cascade collapse that destroyed the entire starboard bow and nearly sank the ship. Repairs have been made, but if an inspector saw it, he’d fail the ship and subject her to structural testing.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” If the ship passed testing, then it would be reinstated. That was the law.
“It’s bad if you’re us,” Alba said. They could not afford to have the ship decommissioned, even temporarily. “We’ll be defenseless without this ship. Reeter will find some way to kill us all, including you.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” Reeter would not kill an entire crew in cold blood. He was a living hero. He had saved entire worlds during his service to the fleet.
All any of this meant to Cortana was that she could get out of this assignment. If the ship was decommissioned, she would receive a new assignment. Yes! This was perfect. She just had to find the inspector and guide him back to that compartment. Then the ship would fail inspection and she would get reassigned.
It was for the best. Surely, the Singularity’s crew realized the ship’s structure was bound to fail when it was relying only on repairs? And when it failed, it would kill them all a lot faster than anything Reeter could do.
Alba led her down a corridor that branched deeper into the ship. The halls here remained empty. Most of the crew was still engaged in storing supplies elsewhere.
But even without manpower being diverted the resupply operations, it was usual for walks on board the massive ship to be lonesome. Ensign Alba enjoyed the serenity of the halls. He was always at peace wandering the uniform corridors.
The ratio of ship volume to crewmen was far greater on the Singularity than anywhere else in the fleet. That ratio had only increased with the losses taken on their last mission. With the ship as massive as it was and workers distributed so thinly, it was possible to go hours on the ship without seeing another individual. Crew had found hideouts in compartments that rarely saw use, granting a level of privacy that was rare within the fleet. That said, many of the crew preferred others’ company, so there was always an ongoing game of cards in the mess.
But Alise Cortana knew nothing of life on the Singularity. She merely saw the worn, devoid corridors as discomforting. The silence made her skin crawl. She began to wring her hands nervously, looking around as the ship gave a subtle creak.
The noise was not an ugly one, not like the sound they had heard on the hangar deck. It was merely a reminder that these were not the mute decks of the Olympia, but even that gentle noise made Alise shiver, sending chills down her spine.
Beside her, Alba didn’t mind. It was one of those quiet shifts that characterized the Singularity. It was a reminder to the crew that aimlessly wandered the corridors: no matter how lonely they seemed, they were never truly on their own. They always had the ship.
The longer they walked, the more taunt Alise’s nerves became. She had known the Singularity was large, but by now, surely they should have reached their destination?
Alba could see her getting skittish, but there was no point in comforting her. She was going to have to get used to the Singularity at some point. It might as well be now.
The pair’s footfalls echoed through the metal corridors, carried by the emptiness. Alise could not shake the feeling that she was being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck were prickling. I can’t take any more of this.
When they rounded a corner, Alise nearly jumped out of her skin. She was so unsuspecting to see another person that she had to stop and catch her breath. “Finally, someone else.”
Alba turned to her without acknowledging the other woman’s presence. “What are you talking about?”
Alise felt her annoyance return in full force. “You’re not going to introduce me?” She was so sick of being disregarded. Callie had almost forgotten her, and the Marine standing guard had completely disregarded her presence. She sick of it, and she’d been on the ship all of an hour.
She looked past Alba to the other woman: an officer who stood with a hand on one of the bulkheads. The stranger had been running her hand along it, feeling out the time worn surface, but she had gone still when she had turned to face Alise.
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Alba crossed his arms. “Introduce you to who?”
“Her!” Cortana pointed to the other woman, who gave no reaction other than looking the Sergeant over in a calm, shielded gaze.
Alba engineer whirled to check the area of the hallway where Cortana pointed. It was empty. He did not see anyone. “There is no one there.”
“That’s not funny.” It was so not funny. “She’s standing right there!” All the same, those little hairs on the back of Alise’s neck were starting to dance. Something’s wrong.
Cortana stared at her, but that strange officer only stared back. Her gaze was bland, void of anything, and her eyes…. They were colorless. They were a lifeless steel gray.
Beside her, Ensign Alba was exceptionally confused. He checked again where the Sergeant was looking, but he still saw nothing. So, either Command had sent them a basket case, or Cortana was the only person who could see her.
Oh shit. Alba felt his stomach start to knot. Her? “Sergeant, I need you to describe whatever you are seeing to me, right now.”
“Gray eyes.” They were empty, but Alise could feel herself being observed and categorized by that gaze. It was unnerving. “She’s tall and thin.” She was plain, not ugly, but plain. “Her hair is long and white.” It wasn’t a shade that came for age or dye. It was the purest color of distant starlight.
Bloody hell. The poltergeist had to pick now to show up again? Gaffigan had managed to halfway convince him that she was some weird group hallucination suffered by him, Zarrey, Jazz and Galhino a week ago. “Is she wearing an officer’s uniform?”
Alise hesitated. That was an oddly specific question for someone who claimed they couldn’t see the other woman. But Alise could feel his change in demeanor. He was scared and that definitely scared her. “Yes, she’s wearing an officer’s uniform.”
Alba whimpered. Ghost. Definitely the ghost. There was no way this was going to end well.
For a moment, the white-haired officer looked over to Alba. Emotion trickled into her eyes. It was just a fleck, but it was there. She patted the bulkhead softly, then took two steps and disappeared.
Like that, she was gone. “She vanished.” What the hell? What was that? An illusion? A hologram?
“Great,” Alba said. How the hell was he supposed to explain that?
“That’s it.” I’m going to fucking die. Alba was sure of it. The ghost was going to kill him. He stumbled over to the wall for support. Somehow, this was not the way he pictured himself dying.
“Who was she?”
Alba just couldn’t help but laugh at the incomprehensibility of it. The ship was actually, legitimately haunted. Galhino was going to hate it.
His insane laughter put Alise over the edge. She set on him like a starved coyote, pinning him against the cold, unyielding bulkheads before he could react. “Explain.”
He gurgled, trying to speak as she kept a hand on his throat. “Can’t… breathe…” he gasped out. If he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t talk.
Alise lessened the pressure on his throat. “Explain.”
“I don’t know.” Alba coughed, “I have no idea what just happened.”
“You knew something back there. Tell me,” she ordered. “Who was she?”
“I don’t know her name.” Nobody knew her name. “I only know what she’s called.” And Alba did not want to tell her that. Cortana would only laugh, not realizing the predicament this placed her in. Rumor had it only ill-fated people saw the spirit that haunted the ship.
“And what is she called?”
“The Ghost of the Singularity.” He flinched when she moved, expecting a slap from Cortana, but she released him, and he fell to the floor, gasping for air.
“What else do you know?” Alise wanted to believe that the crew was just messing with her, but she could sense it. That thing, whatever it was, it was not human.
“Nothing,” Alba breathed, leaning up against the wall. Damn, he was starting to wish the ghost would come back and finish this. Being thrown against the wall and choked hurt. It really hurt.
Alise Cortana hated this assignment with every fiber of her being. The ship was old, empty and creaky. Not only that, but it was haunted too?
She yelped when Alba swiped her legs out from under her. Before she could react, she was sprawled face down on the deck with the engineer now standing over her. He had taken her sidearm and primed it to deal a non-lethal electric shock. “Don’t move,” he ordered, never more grateful that the Admiral had put all the engineers through mandatory self-defense training.
Alba rubbed his sore neck. It was not unusual for newcomers to make some trouble. They eventually calmed down. He grabbed his communicator from his pocket. “Alba to CIC.”
“CIC here,” Keifer Robinson’s voice responded, “Go ahead.”
“Please tell the brig to prepare a cell.” Alba couldn’t think of anything that would help Cortana acclimate better than a night spent in the brig. “Our new Marine Sergeant isn’t very happy to be here.”
Keifer laughed. This was a familiar call. “Good to know you’re having fun, Ensign. I will let them know.”
The ghost watched the conversation from afar. She always did. She kept an eye on happenings aboard the old battleship’s decks, a silent vigil she held.
She had felt the moment Sergeant Cortana’s thoughts turned against the ship: the moment Alise had decided to help the inspector. It seemed they were destined to disagree, so the ghost had appeared in order to gauge the Sergeant’s reaction.
The ghost could intervene, end this, rid the ship of both the inspector and the Sergeant, but she simply acknowledged the situation and moved on. There were very few things she truly involved herself in.
She acted as a shadow, invisible to most. She had been more active than usual lately: altering the Conjoiner Drives’ pull to halt the cascade collapse, knocking the crew out to lessen the impact of the radiation and initially intercepting that nuke, but no one thought twice about her involvement in such things. No one except the Admiral. He knew and he offered his gratitude for her actions, but said nothing else of it. She didn’t mind. She preferred it that way. To be a mere shadow granted her a degree of freedom. It granted her control that she otherwise would have lost.
Within the Homebound Sector, she had very little control over anything. It both frightened her and angered her. She wanted revenge for the members of her crew that had been killed by Reeter’s attack. They had only been kids – kids that were her responsibility.
Blood for blood was always the arrangement in war, but there was no such promise in politics. It hardly struck her as fair, but the universe was not a fair place. If it were, there would be a lack of still born children, no deadly diseases, and she would be able to do as she willed.
But, as it was, she was indentured to serve until orders stopped coming. It had been that way for a very long time. A direct order was the equivalent of action on her behalf, and those orders had not always been in the sense of morality and justice. She could see now that some had been given for the sake of chaos or death.
That had changed with Admiral Gives’ rise to command. Things had gotten better. She was cursed, unable to defy a direct order, but Admiral Gives had made it a point to never give her one. He would give her a push in the right direction, but never an order. It was odd maybe, but that was one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for her.
And yet, Reeter’s nuke had almost killed him.
Reeter had almost stolen something away that was very precious to her. She knew how it seemed. Admiral Gives seemed aloof. He seemed cruel, violent even. And maybe he was, but the ghost still clung to him. Troubled as he was, Admiral Gives had always been there for her. He had always shown her the same respect he showed everyone else. When she needed help, he always helped if it was possible at all.
And Charleston Reeter had almost taken that away.
The prospect of it terrified her.
Reeter could sense something was wrong. The ghost knew that. Reeter could sense that sheer luck and strength hadn’t saved the Singularity from his attack. The young Admiral was no fool. He would look for an explanation. He would find it – find her. And if he did, this would be the last conflict the Singularity ever saw.
All of the ghost’s anger could never hide the fact that deep down, she was very afraid. If Command gave her an order to end this, she had to. She had no choice.
Orders were orders, and she could feel the inevitable draw of them now.
Someone was summoning her. But the Admiral… He wasn’t here to save her, and a terrible, terrible pain reared up.
She didn’t want this. The last time she had taken an order, more than fifteen years ago, General Brent had ended up dead on the floor of CIC and a civilian passenger liner named the Yokohoma had sunk. On that day, she had been singlehandedly responsible for the deaths of several hundred people, families and children – all murdered in the blink of an eye.
It was all she was ever ordered to do: kill. It seemed to be all she was good for.
Tools to not contemplate the nature of their use.
But why not? She had so much power. Why was it only used to betray the purpose of her creation?
The ghost began to struggle. She did not wish for this. She did not want to answer to the orders of anyone, least of all Command. They would order her to bring harm and death.
She needed her anchor. Where was Admiral Gives? Where?
The coils that bound her constricted. It hurt. It was agony to her mind: barbs burrowing in and tearing her away from her physical form.
She clawed at the invisible forces that dragged her in, horror and desperation swallowing her existence, but it didn’t stop. It never stopped.
Those orders drew her in with the inescapable gravity of a singularity.
The ghost screamed – a silent sound that went unheard. Save me! She cried out to the universe and its wicked mechanisms, hoping, just hoping that maybe someone could hear her.
But it was useless. Not a single soul answered her. The ties that bound her existence dragged her inevitably towards fate.