Homebound Sector, Haven System, Battleship Singularity
Truth be told, Admiral Gives hated sleeping. It was a stupid, unpreventable waste of his time, and while he did so, he was defenseless. Sleep forced enemies on him in the form of nightmares, so waking in the earliest hours of morning in a cold sweat was familiar to him. He didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. He never managed. These days, roughly three hours of rest would have to do.
With a shiver, he slid his feet out from under the blankets and planted them on the cold metal deck. He steadied himself by listening to the soft hum of the ship’s engines: a constant noise. Still, he stared at his hands. One of them was burned and scarred now, bandaged, but the feel of the nightmare was still there.
The texture of skin lingered on his fingertips, and the warmth of body heat lingered in his palms. His hands even ached with the tension he’d used to choke the life out of that little girl’s throat.
A wave of nausea rose up as he remembered her corpse. Stars, he could still hear her mewling cries. He could still see the light fading from her big brown eyes. She couldn’t have been any more than ten.
He buried his face in his murderous hands. I am a monster. He had killed children, innocents. Even if his desperate play for peace worked out, he did not deserve to determine what was right and wrong in these worlds. I do not deserve to live.
“Admiral?”
He looked over to find the ghost poking her head shyly around the corner. Predictable. She always showed up when his thoughts turned in that direction. He grabbed the socks from his shoes where he left them beside the bed. “Morning,” he greeted her, “What can I do for you?”
She blinked, always thrown off by that question. “I…” she lowered her gaze, “I…”
The concern in her eyes always gave her away. “I’m fine,” he said, standing up. “It was just a nightmare.” She would have sensed his distress through the bond they shared. “I’m grateful for the company.” This might be the last morning he spent here. He didn’t want to spend it alone.
A fleck of light returned to her expression as she followed him to his desk, but she knew the toll those nightmares took on him. “New Terra?”
“Yes.” He flicked on the lamp and started digging through the papers that crowded his wooden desktop. “Anabelle just brought back some old memories, that’s all.” He hadn’t seen a child that young up close since then.
Today, the battle in orbit didn’t trouble him, but rather the time he had spent on the surface of the colony, where he had been held prisoner. “That wasn’t your fault.” But it was her fault those memories had resurfaced.
“I know.” But a child was dead, strangled by his hands. Fault had nothing to do with it. “You know how it is.”
The ghost nodded solemnly, trying not to remember all the people she had been forced to massacre with her power slaved to Command.
He began to read through a report. Waking up early like this was his chance to catch up on the paperwork he’d missed the week prior. “I assume General Clarke died last night.”
“He did.” The ghost confirmed idly. That had been an easy prediction. “Likely, a blood thinner was used in his assassination.” It had looked to be a natural death in his sleep, a clever but obvious murder. His death cleared her thoughts somewhat. His intentions and orders no longer ate through her mind like ringworms.
“Then I will leave today. Is there any maintenance I should check on before I go?” He would ensure the maintenance teams were treating his ship properly before he went anywhere.
Admiral Gives often stepped in to help with maintenance, not because he mistrusted the maintenance staff, but because he enjoyed taking care of his ship right and proper. For the ghost, those were welcome memories, but, “I think you have other things to worry about than maintenance on your old ship.” Besides, in a couple hours, that ship would be decommissioned anyway. There wasn’t any point to it.
Right, he thought, turning his attention back to the report in his hands. This was about to not be his ship anymore. It wasn’t his place.
He got quiet. That was how the ghost knew she had upset him. It was how she knew something was wrong. His silence was his pain. “I didn’t mean it that way, Admiral.”
“Admiral, hm?” She was still going to call him that? Clarke dead, he was officially a General now.
“You might be a General off this ship but you’re still the Singularity’s Fleet Admiral on it. Nothing will change that.” She said that not to disrespect that promotion of his, no, she thought that was well-deserved, but she knew what his tie to the Singularity meant to him. “Now, if you feel you must fix something, go tune the engines. They will perform better if properly aligned.”
“Before I leave,” he assured her. He’d get it done, decommissioning or not.
A quiet fell between them. That was normal, but this one felt different as she watched him flip through the papers on his desk. It felt final, and he deserved a better send-off than silence. “Admiral,” she said, correcting her posture, “these last twenty-seven years… It has been an honor.”
There weren’t very many things that surprised him anymore, but seeing the ghost put a right and proper military salute, it took him a minute to respond. “I believe,” he replied, rising to his feet, “the honor has been mine.” She had selected him for this post, denying a hundred other officers in the process. It had been a privilege. “I hope my loyalty and service have been satisfactory.” He’d given her his best. “Remember that fate is what you make of it-”
“-and luck is total bullshit.” She finished for him.
He snapped off his salute, and she followed. “I guess you did learn something from me after all,” even if it was only the advice he gave every crewman when they left the ship for the last time.
“I learned lots of things from you, including how to use a battleship for deep space fishing, and how not to have a personal life.”
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To her credit, he contemplated a chuckle. “I’m going to miss you.” She had made these years worth it.
She tilted her head, “Aren’t you tired of me?” Her constant telepathic presence had been a source of resentment for his predecessor.
“No.” That constant presence of hers was a gift. He hated being alone. Often, it prevented him from being the monster he really was. He was grateful.
The realization was slow, burdening in its own way. He didn’t want to leave. “Then promise me. Promise me, that you’ll be okay.” She couldn’t take this. She didn’t know how. “Promise me, that I’ll get to see you again.” Promise me you’ll come home.
He lowered his gaze back to his cluttered desk with utter certainty that he’d made a mistake. I shouldn’t have said anything. He should have stayed silent and left without a word. Revealing his emotions made things complicated for her. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.” Not again. He did not expect to live through the day, let alone the week. The New Era’s corruption had gone too far. He had no way to outmaneuver their plans.
She looked down to where her shoes met the antique rug. “You don’t have to go.” He wasn’t like her. He didn’t have to follow orders. He could always choose to disobey.
“Yes, I do.” He owed her this, to do the best he could to help humanity find peace. It was his job.
This ship was his home. Perhaps it had been the only good home he had ever known. Every scar he earned, every round of torture he endured, it had always been with the intent of coming home, coming here. He hated to leave.
And she hated to miss him.
The ghost couldn’t let him leave like this. He was the only one who had never considered her a burden. “If I asked you to, would you stay?” Would he let her try to keep that old promise just one more time?
“I gave you my word. I will stay as long as you want or think that you need me to.” He stood by his word. “But humanity cannot be spared this war if I stay. In fact, if I stay, you’ll be put in the middle of it.” Reeter would not let him go easily.
That was true, but for all his troubles, for his faults and flaws, Admiral Gives was good. He was good to her and always had been. The ghost did not want to see him suffer, and she could see it in his eyes. The thought of leaving brought him pain. She did not want to hurt him. “I want you to stay.” This is your home. I can’t take that from you.
Those were the words he wanted so very badly to hear, but knew his duty at this moment: to remind her of the importance of abiding logic and emotional distance. “Do not allow emotion to cloud your judgement.” His moral obligation was to remind her of the Hydrian bylaws, even if he had lost faith in morality some time ago. “Logically speaking, my departure offers the best chance of not only peace, but of your continued survival.”
“I don’t care. That infinitesimal chance of peace is not worth your life. Not to me.” She could not, would not allow this. He did not desire to leave. “I am asking you to stay.” Her attachment to him was emotional, yes, but it was only natural. He had given her every ounce of the attention his predecessors had denied. “Let me keep the promise I made to you.” She didn’t want to break it. “Please. I want you to stay here.” He had kept her safe for thirty years, and he would continue to do so if she gave him the chance. She could trust that.
“Understood.”
That was an unusually hollow response, even for him. The ghost knew that, but he would come around. He always did when it came to her. “I want you to be happy, Admiral, and I hope staying here will make you happy, or at least bring you less pain.” That was all she wanted. She just wanted to help him the way he had helped her, and she knew she was the only one who would try. The rest of the worlds treated him horribly, but his place was here.
“Thank you.” Once again, he found himself in her debt. He didn’t deserve to stay here, to be happy, but her kindness extended to even him. The rest of the worlds were disgusted by a sociopathic killer, but she asked him to stay, made him feel somewhat wanted. “I owe you more than I can ever give.”
The ghost just smiled a bit, “You’re odd.” It pleased him to stay here, “Most people don’t prefer living on a warship to living anywhere else. Most people would prefer a beach. Most people don’t want that responsibility, but you…” Well, she wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted.
“I am not most people.” There was very little about his background he would consider normal in this day and age.
“You’re strange.”
“Says the ghost,” he countered. Somehow, he doubted an immortal noncorporeal entity had the right to call anyone strange.
She chuckled, relief finding its way into her mind. He was already better, even just knowing that he would not have to leave. That prospect had upset him more than he had let on, but she had known. She always knew. "It takes two odd ducks to make a good pair, doesn't it?"
“Yes,” he agreed, looking at her, “it does.”
Better, she decided in satisfaction. He was feeling better. The same way he never left her in misery, she refused to leave him there either.
A knock came on the hatch, a clanging that echoed through the room. “Enter,” General Gives called as the ghost’s visible presence vanished.
Colonel Zarrey stepped in with his jaws stretched open in a yawn. Half of his blond hair was flattened down, and his wrinkled uniform jacket was unbuttoned. “XO, it is a little early for you.” The ship’s second in command was not an early riser in any sense, and it showed.
Zarrey groaned and sleepily scratched at the scar on his chin. “The kids woke me up.” He stumbled blearily across the room, nearly tripping on the carpet that decorated the floor and sank into the cockeyed chair on the other side of the desk. “Johannes wasn’t sure what to make of this, and quite frankly neither do I.” He held up a somewhat crinkled piece of paper, “Clarke is dead, but who should we find out is his successor?” The XO shook his head, “I suppose I was just wondering when the hell you were planning on telling us poor pedestrians you were planning to leave.”
“XO, I was going to make that announcement when it became relevant,” which was never now that the ghost had asked him to stay.
“I would argue it’s relevant now. Most of the crew is wondering if they should be packing their bags after failing inspection yesterday. They look to you, but imagine their surprise when they find out that you already packed your bags.” Zarrey honestly couldn’t believe it. “Damn it, sir, I know there are things that you keep from us because we’re just better off not knowing, but I refuse to believe this was one of them.” This was a lying, backstabbing secret and nothing else.
“Colonel, I had planned to take Clarke’s position before I knew that the ship would be decommissioned. The inspection complicated matters. I had never planned to allow this ship and this crew to be in jeopardy.”
“Bullshit.” Zarrey refused to hear this. “Don’t give me that tactical situation crap. You lied.”
“I neglected the truth.” That was very different than lying.
“Call it whatever you want, General, it still makes you a traitor to this crew, and a traitor to this ship.” He was leaving when they all needed him the most.
“XO, I think you know better than that.”
“I used to think so. I used to think you were the man who would never leave this post under any circumstances, but it seems I really don’t know you at all.” Right now, it seemed he was bailing out when the going got tough.
“If you think I was planning on abandoning my ship, then you have no idea who I am, Colonel.” He valued this ship and crew more than he valued anything else. He had been willing to forfeit his life to get them out of Reeter’s war, but there was no point in explaining that now. It was no longer the plan.
“We’ll have to see about that.”
On the wall beside the desk, the handset started to ring, rattling on its hook. The ship commander picked it up, “Go ahead.”
Lieutenant Robinson was on the other end, a tint of worry in her voice, “General, the Fleet Leadership is requesting to speak with you on public comms.”
“On my way,” he said, hanging up and grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “It seems the Erans have chosen public crucifixion for my fate.” This should prove interesting. “Care to come along, XO?”
Zarrey furrowed his brows a bit, confused. “Sure.” He started to follow, then noticed the set of golden General’s pins had been left behind on the desk. “Don’t you want these?”
“No,” they might signify his new rank, but General Gives felt nothing but disdain for those pins. “Leave them.” He would proudly continue to wear the uniform of the Singularity’s Admiral.
“Alright,” Zarrey shrugged. That seemed odd, but then, the ship’s commander was a sort of odd person.