Homebound Sector, Haven System, Battleship Singularity
It never mattered what ship he was on, the medical bay reeked of sterilizing cleaners and ointments. The air filters could never seem to pull the odor from the air. The Olympia, despite all her technologies and cutting-edge equipment, had suffered the same.
Naturally, the Olympia’s medical bay had been different than the one he stood in now. The Singularity’s bulkheads were darker, the lights less bright, and his daughter was being held on the other side of that ugly shale gray curtain. She was there, dead or alive, Ron didn’t know, and the nurse wouldn’t let him pass.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I’ve been told to keep all non-essential personnel out.”
Non-essential personnel? “What the hell are you doing to her?” Ron demanded, “Why can’t I see my daughter?” He should have known. Stars, he should have known. This was the Prince’s black battleship after all. I never should have let her out of my sight. “Dammit, let me through.”
“Sir, please,” the nurse said, moving to block his approach. “They’re just treating her.”
“Get out of my way!” Ron shouted, trying to shove the nurse aside. He knew what happened to children left unattended. He knew what happened to the orphans of the central worlds. The corporations and the fleet took them, and they did unspeakable things. But not Anabelle. He wouldn’t let that happen to Anabelle. He would let that happen to his daughter.
A hand grabbed onto Ron’s shoulder just as he managed to overpower the nurse, dragging him a step backward, “Hey, back off.”
Ron found himself face to face with a man about his height, judging by the defensive stance, a Marine. “You okay, Sanchez?” he asked the nurse.
She looked shaken, but nodded an affirmative.
Ron shook the Marine’s hand off his shoulder and pulled his flannel back into place. “I want to see my daughter, now.”
The curtain behind the nurse rippled, and Doctor Macintosh stuck his head out. “Keep it down. My patients need rest.” Only a few wounded personnel remained in sickbay, but they had been severely injured, and some were still suffering from radiation poisoning. “If you let them sleep, they’ll be fit as a fiddle in a few days.” The resupply had replenished their anti-radiation med supply, which had run dry after the attack. The patients with radiation sickness would start to heal faster now.
Macintosh disappeared before anyone could respond, vanishing back behind the wall of fabric. The sight of him only angered Ron. “Come back here! Don’t you hurt her or bloody hell I will-“
The Marine limped over to stand at the nurse’s side. “Sir, I need you to calm down.”
Amelia and Harrison stood off to the side of the room, watching the tensions rise. “Please,” Amelia said, “Just let him see his daughter.” Why would they refuse Ron that? Stars, what if they decided to separate her and Harrison as well? Maybe this had been the Admiral’s plan all along.
Ron sized up the Marine. The young man looked sickly, and one of his arms was in a sling. I can take him. In the interest of saving his daughter from whatever sick experiments the medics were planning to run, he could take anyone.
Maybe it was paranoia driving his desperation, but it had been hours since Ron had seen Anabelle. It had been hours since the staff had told him anything about her condition. He had needed the fleet to treat her, but he had never intended to let her out of his sight while they did so. He knew just how dangerous that could be. Boarding the Olympia had been a calculated risk, but dammit, this wasn’t the Olympia. He knew nothing about this ship and crew, save for the gruesome rumors of the Steel Prince. He had to assume the worst.
For all he knew, they’d cut his daughter open behind that curtain, laid her flesh open to the air and drilled into her brain. There were things worse than death in these worlds. A former Marine Sergeant on the flagship, Ron knew just how horrifyingly true that was, so he threw the first punch with all of his strength behind it. But the Marine in front of him was expecting it. Ducking the punch, the wounded soldier charged into Ron’s torso, latched on with his good arm and pushed them both away from the curtain.
That left the Marine wide open for an attack. Instinct taking wholly over, Ron drove two quick punches into the younger man’s gut. He took them both with loud grunts, but only tightened his grip and pushed Ron another step back as he heaved for air.
“Yankovich!” The nurse cried as she saw Ron land another set of hits on the young Marine, who made no move to defend himself.
“Get the hell off of me!” Ron roared, punching again and again. “I won’t let you hurt Anabelle!” He wouldn’t let the fleet run their experiments on her. He wouldn’t let her be taken away from him no matter who stood in his way, be it Reeter, this Marine or the Steel Prince himself.
Amelia was screaming, “Ron, stop! You’re going to kill him!” She turned to shield her son from the violence.
It made no difference. Ron had but one goal, and that was to save his daughter. He brought his knee straight into the Marine’s stomach. The soldier let out a wet gurgle of pain and weakened, but still held on.
Ron shifted his weight, readying another attack. The Marine wouldn’t take another hit, he was certain of that. Hang on, Anabelle.
“ATTEN-HUT!”
Hearing the loud bellow, a call to attention, the Marine loosened his grip, and Ron seized the chance. He drove his other knee into the Marine’s already beaten torso. The Marine collapsed, all the strength in his legs gone, but he still managed to hang on, even just as a limp weight.
Ron tore him off and threw him to the floor, his opponent’s weight rattling the deck tiles. It was time to end this fight, time to save his daughter. He raised another fist as he pinned the Marine down – readying a ruthless finishing blow.
The knife came out of nowhere. Thrown, it embedded itself deep into Ron’s shoulder with a spurt of blood. “Argh!” The sudden pain was blinding, and before he could recover, the knife was yanked violently from his body with a slight, excruciating twist.
Writhing, Ron was hauled up to his feet and roughly thrown against the nearest bulkhead, his skull clanging against the metal. Stunned by the force of the hit, his hands were grabbed and pinned painfully behind his back before the ringing left his ears. The knife made its reappearance at his throat, dripping warm, slimy blood down onto his collar. “That’s enough.”
His face pressed against the cold metal bulkhead, Ron couldn’t see who had pulled him off the Marine, but the nurse was standing at attention, and Amelia wore a blank look of horror as she covered Harrison’s eyes with her hand. Whoever held him had a strong grip, and the hand that was pinning Ron’s own was covered in a glove. He could feel the thin fabric of it, just as he could feel his own blood dripping off the knife and running down his neck, a warm, sticky syrup.
“Make another wrong move, and it will be your last, Mister Parker.” The knife pressed a little more against the skin, its blade just shy of cutting it open. “Am I understood?”
At the risk of slitting his own throat, Ron resisted the urge to nod. “Yes.”
The knife vanished, and Ron’s hands were released. He breathed a sigh of relief, slowly peeling his cheek off the metal of the wall. His attacker was walking away, identity evidenced by the bloody knife in his hand. It was soaked in crimson to the hilt, set aside as Admiral Gives flagged over the nurse and knelt down beside the wounded Marine.
“Thanks for the assist, sir.” Yankovich managed to cough where he lay, “But I had that well under control.”
“Of course, Corporal,” the Admiral allowed.
“Yankovich,” Nurse Sanchez said, checking the Marine for broken ribs and signs of internal bleeding, “you could barely stand up by yourself before the fight started.” He had been practically defenseless. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“Does this mean you’ll make me more cookies?”
“Stars,” Sanchez said, checking his head, “I think he’s delirious. Sir, can you help me take him back to his bed?”
The Admiral nodded and helped pull the Marine to his feet. Ron watched them take the half-conscious soldier back to his bed, an ounce of guilt growing in his mind.
“Tend to the Corporal,” Admiral Gives told the nurse, “I can take care of Mister Parker.”
“Yes, sir.” She said, handing over the clipboard that she had been holding.
Glancing it over briefly, the Admiral handed it back and grabbed a nearby towel. He picked his knife back up on his way, but soon stood in front of Ron.
As he stood there, methodically wiping down that blade, Ron couldn’t help the impression that the man was deeply contemplating his murder. “Would you like to tell me why I found you beating on one of my Marines?”
The way he regarded the blade, wiping it slowly down, was just unnerving – a not-so-subtle reminder that at any moment, the Admiral could choose to use it. Ron had a feeling he’d be dead before he even saw the man move. “My daughter.”
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“What of her?” the Admiral said, wiping the hilt clean and testing the balance of the knife on his fingers.
Monster. Only a monster would act so indifferently in the face of a father’s desperation. Only someone who had never felt love for anything or anyone could act so cold. “I need to see her. I need to make sure that you haven’t ordered your crew to turn her into one of Command’s puppets.” He’d seen what became of those taken children. There was nothing child-like about them. They were turned into mindless spies and assassins – pawns for people like the great Steel Prince.
Admiral Gives paused, frozen where he held the towel on the blade of his knife. It was a brief pause, barely even noticeable, just long enough for him to toss an unwelcome memory back into the depths of his thoughts. You don’t know a damn thing about me. Nobody did, they all just assumed him to be a heartless killer. “Mister Parker, your daughter, if you are indeed her father,” without proper records, all they had was the man’s word on that, “is being treated safely and securely. She tested positive for an immune system deficiency.” A condition that rendered her very sensitive.
“As long as Doctor Macintosh maintains that minimal exposure is best for the patient’s health, then only necessary medical staff will be allowed to see her. If I am understanding her condition correctly, any change in environment: temperature, atmosphere, could be dangerous. Something as miniscule as a common cold may kill her.” The Admiral knew little of biology, but that condition was simple enough for anyone to understand. “If we allowed you to see her, her life would be further endangered.”
“Then why wouldn’t they tell me what was wrong with her?” Why had the nurses stopped telling him her condition?
“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” the Admiral answered calmly, folding his knife back down into the hilt. He tucked it easily into his sleeve, where he normally kept it. “Without proper documentation, you cannot prove that you are the patient’s guardian. Information on her condition was being withheld until we could confirm your relationship.” There was always the possibility that the child had been kidnapped. Unfortunately, that was a familiar circumstance to the crew. “Standard operating procedure.”
“Proper documentation.” They had denied him information on account of that. Ron huffed. Everything the Admiral said was logical. Hell, it was probably true, but the lack of pity, the lack of empathy he delivered it with was cruel. “You’re everything they said you were.” A real-life sociopath. A remorseless killer. Ron stepped away from him, disgusted to find his daughter’s life in the hands of such a man.
“Mister Parker,” the Admiral stopped him, “I will allow you to wait here, but if you lay another hand on my crew, then note that there are several hundred airlocks on this ship that do not require proper documentation to space you.” Ron had better learn some patience and learn to like his rules, because Admiral Gives was the only law aboard these decks.
“Admiral,” Amelia snapped, more than revolted by that callous threat.
The ship commander turned to face his niece; certain he would not enjoy this conversation. “Yes-”
She slapped him across the face before he could even get the word fully out. “My father was right about you.” He didn’t understand anything. Family meant nothing to him.
Admiral Gives took the slap without complaint. This reaction was not unfamiliar. The people he saved were rarely happy about it. It was just another hallmark of his miserable life. There were a lot of reasons he preferred a long, boring patrol with his ship, his crew and nobody else.
“I don’t know why I expected you to pity him,” Amelia shook her head, “Maybe because my father would have, and I was hoping that you’d be just a little like him.” But you’re not. It seemed all the family’s kindness had gone to the dead brother. “You couldn’t give a damn about anyone but yourself.” He was a self-serving, violent man. “You’re a monster who has never seen love, seen happiness. That’s why you don’t feel anything when you take it from others. You’re selfish and disgusting. Stars, you might be even worse than the people I was rescued from. They were evil, but at least they were functional. At least they were human.”
I don’t have time for this emotional bullshit. Admiral Gives was busy, and he didn’t expect anyone to understand his motives or his methods. Amelia and Ron were by far not the first people to be utterly disgusted with his existence. Most people reacted poorly to his unemotional blasé and blunt words. He raised an eyebrow, “Are you done?”
She guffawed, “Am I done?” This reaction of his was just as emotionless as the others. It only irritated her more. “You’re an abomination!” He was just toying with her. After all, she was nothing more than a pawn to him. She’d seen that for herself in his quarters. “You are a disgrace to the family name, a disgrace to your home country, and a disgrace to the fleet.”
None of these were new insults. Admiral Gives had heard it all before. He was an absolute disgrace. It was true, but that meant something to most people. It meant nothing to him. “If that is what you think, then I cannot change your mind.” He didn’t really give a damn. “Whatever you think of me, know that Reeter cannot touch you aboard the Singularity.”
“Yes, because I feel very safe surrounded by strangers on a rickety old spaceship.”
“This group of ‘strangers’ and this ‘rickety old spaceship’ are the only things standing between you and a particularly upset Admiral Reeter. I would not suggest making enemies out of them.” The ship at least had a nasty habit of holding a grudge.
From the corner of the room, a high-pitched scream rang out. The clatter of a metal tray and the thud of footfalls followed a moment later. Ron leapt to his feet, starting again towards the curtain, protective fury in his eyes.
“Excuse me,” the Admiral told Amelia, pardoning himself to go stand directly in Ron’s path.
That was more than enough to stop Ron where he stood, though the Admiral made no move to ready himself for a fight. “Mister Parker, your irrational need to see your daughter will endanger her life if you step past this curtain.” This being his ship, the Admiral would not allow that, no matter how much of a monster it made him out to be. “Is seeing her now worth her life?” The Admiral folded his hands carefully behind his back, a sliver of ice creeping into his voice, “I should think not.”
Ron knew he was right. Ron hated him for it, but he was right. Looking the infamous Steel Prince in the eyes, Ron was more than uncomfortable, and not only due to the sounds of his daughter’s struggle behind the curtain. The sharpness Ron saw in that stormy blue gaze was uncanny. It occurred to him that he was toe to toe with not only one of the deadliest members of the human race, but probably one of the smartest people he had ever met.
None of that was comforting as he stood, not daring to try and break the quarantine.
Behind the curtain, Anabelle Parker had drifted in and out of sleep for a while. When her eyelids finally fluttered open, she found herself completely surrounded by strangers – strangers that were all wearing a black uniform, the same black uniform she and her father had spent months running from.
We got caught. All of those dropships had come to Kansa looking for them, after all. Panic set in before the medical staff even realized she was awake. She threw the blankets off and leapt out of bed, but the tubes attached to her arm caught the objects on the bedside table and sent a tray of metal instruments crashing to the floor.
Immediately, the nurse rushed toward her, “Please, Anabelle, we need you to stay calm.”
The young girl stumbled and fell just a few steps from the bed. Her legs felt so weak and wobbly. Still, she scrambled away from these strangers. She’d been told to run and hide from people in that uniform. “Get away from me!” she screamed.
Doctor Macintosh saw the fear in his young patient’s eyes. He knew he would have to take measures to prevent her from breaking her own quarantine. Knocking people out for a few hours often was the best way to end their panic. An experienced trauma surgeon, he kept a syringe of sedatives in the pocket of his lab coat just for that purpose.
He pulled the cap off the sterile needle and waited until the nurse had Anabelle sufficiently distracted. Then, he stepped up behind the young girl, and easily restrained her enough to insert that needle into her upper arm.
Anabelle screamed again, the sound blood-curdling as it echoed in the bay. She thrashed against her captor even as she felt the prick of a needle, but the man holding her was a giant compared to her. Her struggles were all in vain, even as the sedative started to slow her down. “Why?” she whispered, before slipping into oblivion.
“I hate kids.” At least post-traumatic stress victims didn’t make him feel bad about knocking them out. “It’s for your own good,” Macintosh grunted as he picked Anabelle up and took her back to bed.
He left the nurse to tuck the girl back into bed, and pushed his way past the curtain. Ron Parker was waiting there, restrained by the Admiral’s watchful eye. “Anabelle will be fine. In a few hours her immune system will be strong enough for us to lift the quarantine. By result of that panic attack, she’s been sedated.” Macintosh looked over to the Admiral. “One of the yeomen just brought down the papers. She hasn’t been kidnapped. Mister Parker is her father… among other things,” including an AWOL soldier from the enemy side.
Admiral Gives took that hint. “Send those papers to my office.”
The doctor nodded, popping an unlit cigarette between his lips. It was difficult to tell with the Admiral’s untelling expressions, but the man looked tired. “Admiral, you may have been able to magically walk off that coma, but don’t let it come back to haunt you. You need to rest.” Predictably, there was no response. “Whatever.” Macintosh couldn’t stop the man from being reckless with his health. “I’m going to get a drink.”
Macintosh lumbered off, pulling his flask from his pocket as he slammed the door to his little office shut behind him.
Amelia stared after him. The ship’s doctor was a drunkard. Why was she not surprised? She turned to her uncle, “You were in a coma?”
“For a week,” he answered indifferently, flexing his burned hand. The price of saving my ship and her crew. He would do it all over again.
Amelia reconsidered the black glove on his left hand. No doubt it covered some wound or ugly scar. She didn’t remember it, but in the years since she had last seen him, he’d probably earned dozens of new scars. “I need to know what you intend to do with us.”
“Is there something you would like me to do?”
The question was so void it could have been disinterested. Amelia couldn’t help but curl her lip in disgust. “This is just a game to you, isn’t it?” Not even a brewing war with real suffering could keep his brilliance entertained.
“I do not play games.” He played to win.
Amelia shook her head and took hold of her son’s hand. “You’re a monster, Admiral.” He did nothing except fight for his own gain. “You’re no uncle of mine.”
Above them, the ship’s intercom chimed. “All hands, we have a Code Blue in progress. Repeat, all hands, there is a Code Blue in progress.”
The speakers crackled a bit when the connection was cut off. Admiral Gives registered the announcement with dull certainty that something, somewhere was going wrong – and not specifically on account of the Code Blue. “For the record,” he told Amelia, “that question was genuine.” He had no idea what to do with Amelia and Harrison. Removing them from Reeter’s control had been an obvious move, but after that… Well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Amelia’s input was more than welcome.
She watched him step away, movements quiet and purposeful. He didn’t rush to pick the nearest handset off the wall, the situation not an apparent emergency.
She led Harrison over to go sit near Ron. Rolling his flannel up to the elbows, Ron wasn’t blind to the look on Amelia’s face. “What’s his problem?”
Amelia shrugged. Her immediate reaction to the Admiral was disgust. She didn’t know if that was truly justified or not. The facts indicated it probably was.
“Is what they say about him true?”
“Which part?” She muttered, wrapping her arm around Harrison.
“The first man he ever killed?”
Amelia had given up on censoring the talks of violence and vulgarity for her son. “It’s true.” Her father had been clear about that. Family ties meant nothing to the Admiral, and that was fact. “The first person he killed was his own father.”
“I’m sorry,” Ron said. It was screwed up and sick. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine.” Amelia didn’t care. “I never met him.” Her grandfather had been dead long before her time. She couldn’t miss someone she’d never met.
“Be grateful for that.” The Admiral said, stepping silently up behind Ron’s seat.
Amelia looked up at his perfectly detached expression. “Not like I have the choice.”
The Admiral said nothing to that. As per usual, his motive for that particular murder had been long forgotten. “I will need all of you to stay here for the moment, but I will send a yeoman to take you to some guest quarters.” He was needed elsewhere.