Homebound Sector, Haven System, Battleship Singularity
Admiral Gives left the bridge with the evidence of his trial in hand. Before he met with the department heads to determine the crew’s next move, there was just one thing he needed to check. Reaching effortlessly out to the ghost, he asked, ‘Where is Amelia?’
“Forward observation deck,” the ghost answered, her illusion appearing beside him. “What do you intend to do?”
He purposefully ignored the slight concern in her expression. “Ask a yes or no question.” All he required was a straight answer from Amelia. That should not be difficult to attain.
She sighed, “You could stand to be a little more delicate.” It was no wonder Amelia had slapped him.
“I have neither the time nor the desire to engage in small talk.” They might be relatives, but Amelia was not his priority at this time. “She has made it clear that she does not consider me a member of her family,” and that was not something he cared to contradict.
“That wasn’t exactly your best display,” to blame Amelia for that wasn’t entirely fair. “You walked into the room, stabbed someone, threw him against the bulkhead and then threatened to airlock him.” Amelia had witnessed more violence in that minute than she had seen in the entire rest of her life.
“I am not discussing this right now.” His disastrous personal life was completely irrelevant. “You asked me to stay, so let me make sure I have a ship to stay on before you begin nagging me about anything else.”
“Then I guess I cannot nag you about how you handled Lieutenant Jazmine,” she sighed with some false exasperation.
The Admiral noted her slight smirk, “I am not in the mood for your sass.” Jazmine had been beating on his ship, and that was unacceptable, though he was well aware the ship could take such abuse and had seen far worse.
“We’ll see about that,” the ghost said, disappearing a moment later as he stepped into one of the ship’s busier corridors.
Noticing their commander, the crew stood aside. Word had already spread about the Admiral’s trial, but there was no questioning his authority aboard the Singularity. In her time, the ship had served several masters, but once Admiral Gives had risen to power, he’d come to stay. In every sense, the Singularity had become his ship, and would permanently be so. There wasn’t a crewman aboard who truly doubted that.
There also weren’t very many members of the crew that believed any of the charges against Admiral Gives were legitimate. Most of them had taken assignment to the Singularity out of desperation, but after serving here, there was no denying that most of them had become loyal to the Admiral. Despite the rumors of his cruelty and indifference, the Admiral respected them, and in turn, they respected him enough to follow his orders mostly without question.
When the Admiral arrived, the observation deck was mostly empty. The crew had all headed to their posts, since he’d ordered the ship to Condition Two. However, Amelia was not alone, and it was Ron Parker, dressed in his usual flannel that noticed him first. “Admiral,” he greeted, “How’s the ship?”
“Fine,” the Admiral answered briskly as he approached Amelia with the papers he’d brought from CIC. “Did you sign this document?”
Scrutinizing the marriage contract at point blank range, Amelia had never been more confused. “What the hell? Where did Reeter get this?” He’d tried to force her to sign it, but she never had. And while a few parts of her memory were fuzzy, surely Reeter would have ceased to terrorize her once he had what he had wanted?
She felt bile rising in her throat as she flipped to the second page of the document. “Court guaranteed rights of visitation?” The part highlighted in yellow fluorescent ink was something out of a nightmare.
“Did you sign it?” The Admiral asked, not liking to repeat such a simple question.
“No! Certainly not!” Amelia exclaimed. “It must be forged! He tried to force me to, but I never did!” She clenched her fists, terrified and frustrated by what this document represented. “I’ll need to have this nullified at once.”
“It is too late for that,” Admiral Gives said, taking back the packet of papers. The document had already passed as legal evidence.
“Too late?” Amelia screeched. “I don’t recall asking your opinion, Admiral.” In fact, his opinion on the matter was most unwelcome. “I will not have my name sullied by a matrimony with Charleston Reeter. And I sure as hell will never let him – or you – anywhere near my son again.”
“Ma’am, I-”
“Ma’am this, ma’am that, do you even know my name?” The cool starlight of the observation deck’s windows did nothing to calm her nerves. Amelia was so tired of being passed off like some object. No one, not Reeter, and not Admiral Gives had ever asked what she had wanted, and she was sick of it.
Admiral Gives did not answer her accusation. It was clear whatever he said would be thrown back at him, so he turned to Ron. “You may have heard the announcements, the ship is at Condition Two. Combat is a possibility at this time. You all would do best to retreat to the ship’s interior.”
He said nothing else, just left quietly. Ron stared after him. Combat was a possibility? In the Homebound Sector? That was insane. Did the Admiral expect to engage the fleet? Still, Ron started gathering his things to move off the observation deck. “You could have gone a little easier on him, Amelia.” The Admiral’s formalities were odd to hold with his niece, but they weren’t necessarily a sign of malintent.
“The man is a war criminal, Ron.” Amelia had never been more certain of that. “That packet was full of evidence for his trial. My father isn’t there to protect him anymore, so the fleet is court martialing him.” That wasn’t a surprise to anyone.
“Court martialing?” How could they court martial the Fleet Admiral? “What for?”
“For everything they could get him on, probably. The man’s insane.” Nothing Amelia had seen from him so far encouraged her otherwise. He was violent and emotionally detached. “My father told me the only thing his brother ever truly loved was this ship. So, believe me when I say that I think he’ll go to any length necessary to stay aboard, court martial or not.” The Admiral had to have something up his sleeve.
Ron looked around at the ship, wondering if she’d be able to handle whatever Command could throw at them. He didn’t exactly trust the ship. With all the strange creaking noises it made, it seemed like the structure was constantly threatening to collapse. But Admiral Gives did not strike him a fool. He might be violent and emotionally withdrawn, but the man was still very smart. He wouldn’t stay with any ship that was not worthy of his trust.
Absently sealing the hatch to the observation deck, it hardly surprised Admiral Gives to have the ghost once again appear. He was used to her lingering. “This is why I’m not nice to people.” They treated him like garbage, no matter how he acted. Amelia hadn’t even given him the chance to apologize.
He had a sad look about him, though the ghost was probably the only one who could tell. “I’m sorry.” She could never understand why people treated him so poorly with such consistency. Friends, strangers, family, they were all terrible to him. She had to assume it was because they didn’t know his thoughts the way she did.
“Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” She did not control human nature. It was what it was, and it was ugly. He tried not to let it bother him too much anymore. “What is the situation with the computer virus?”
“It was sent on board with the ‘secure’ fleet data we received from Command. We transfer that data between every computer on the ship. The virus was programmed for several days of dormancy before it became active, which is why we didn’t catch it before it was effectively everywhere.” Now, that virus had the run of all the ship’s systems. “Since our systems are isolated from one another, each iteration of the virus was operating independently of the others. However, that changed after our arrival to the Homebound Sector, when we received and dispersed new fleet data. The entire virus is now acting in tandem with itself, no doubt orchestrated by its…” she trailed off a bit, trying to conceal the tremble in her tone, “creator.”
“The virus hasn’t altered anything as of late,” she continued, walking alongside him down the hexagonal corridor. “Rather, it has been digging through files, to what intent I am uncertain.” The virus was little more than an annoyance at this time.
“Which files?” What could the Erans’ AI possibly need that they hadn’t already forwarded to Command?
“Yours.” It was downright odd. “It’s gone through everything authored by, edited by or involving you.”
Great. Why was he only popular when people wanted him dead? “Remind me to tell the Eran AI that I’m very flattered.”
The ghost frowned. “It’s not funny.” It was actually very, very strange.
“Maybe not to you.” He was at least amused. “That AI just wasted a day combing through the useless details of my perfectly miserable background.” It hadn’t made for a fun life, and it surely didn’t make for a fun read. “But that’s what an AI gets for being nosy,” he shrugged it off, taking note of a flickering light in the corridor. It would need to be replaced.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” It certainly bothered her.
“No, there’s nothing for them to find.” Despite recent doubts, he was exactly who he said he was. “Unless,” he looked over, “there’s something I don’t know about in those records?”
She shook her head, “But we don’t even know what they were looking for.”
“So, they could be looking for my favorite color.” He wasn’t afraid of the New Era’s AI. “And they won’t find that, let alone whatever else they’re looking for.” This was his ship. He controlled the very information that was kept on board, and he wasn’t stupid about it. “Besides, I know you didn’t just let them sift through those files.”
“Of course not.” She’d made it very difficult.
He paused to observe a strange new scuff on the bulkheads, disapproving of the fact that it seemed to be a permanent addition, “Do I want to ask what you did?”
“Oh, you know a bit flip here, a coding error there, and suddenly every ship’s log you ever wrote is in a totally randomized order, every ‘e’ was replaced by colon and there are now roughly eighteen thousand comma splices and misspellings in the last year’s logs alone.” All those were believable errors due to human fallibility or data storage error, but it was just enough sabotage to slow an AI processing the data significantly. “Also, you now have a mild allergy to lavender, and rambled on about fried pickles for twenty minutes during your last psych eval.”
“I didn’t take my last psych eval.” He hated those things. He didn’t need a psychiatric spook to tell him he had problems. He knew he had problems.
“Oh, I know.” The ghost was well aware of that, “I just wanted her to have to read that entire script.” It too, was just a random waste of the AI’s time.
“Her?” The Admiral paused, one hand still resting on the bulkheads, “You know who we’re up against, don’t you?”
Cursing her slip of the tongue, she sensed the immediate mood change. Looking away, she spoke quietly, “Of humanity’s six AI fragments, only two remain: Manhattan and Wichita.” The other four had suffered ends to their existence. “I do not know how she escaped her imprisonment, but the computer virus is Manhattan’s handiwork.” Now, please don’t ask why I know that. This was dreadfully close to something she had tried so desperately to avoid, because she knew, knew that she would never be forgiven for sinking the Kansas.
“So, the most powerful fragment has aligned herself with the New Era.” He wasn’t surprised, but it wasn’t like the ghost to keep knowledge of tactical worth from him. He could sense her nervousness about the subject without seeing the tension in her posture, so he elected not to pry. She’d tell him whatever she was hiding when she was ready. “I presume the most dangerous of the AIs is a tough match. If only someone I knew could wrestle that gator and win…”
She knew that look. “I can’t fight her, Admiral.” They’d spent years working to hide her presence. If she engaged Manhattan here, then that effort was wasted. She would be exploited and abused. “You know that.”
“I know that you’re afraid of her.” He didn’t exactly know why, considering the situation.
“Because she’s dangerous.” She had helped imprison Manhattan with good reason. “She has plans, and she has the means to accomplish them, with or without the consent of the people involved.”
The Admiral straightened up, turning to meet the ghost’s gray eyes. “I don’t think that’s the problem here.”
Face to face with him in this corridor, the ghost knew that lying would serve no purpose. He wouldn’t buy it for a second. “I can’t fight her.”
“I’m not asking you to fight her. I’m asking you to purge the virus currently infecting the computers.” Technicalities.
She glared at him, “How is that any better?” The moment she moved against that virus, it would report back to its master that she was here.
“All external communications are being jammed. That includes those made by the virus. Deal with it now and Manhattan will never even know.” It would be completely gone and unable to report anything by the time the jamming ceased. “The engineers aren’t making any progress against it, and I need my ship.” He couldn’t risk the virus’ continued existence aboard these decks. “If something goes wrong, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”
That was the truth. There was never anything but honesty in his thoughts when he dealt with her. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” She’d been too afraid to see it, but the jamming provided an opportunity for action on her part. “I’ll take care of it.” It would take just moments for her to purge the virus from the ship’s systems.
“Thank you.” That was one problem taken care of. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’m on the brink of being late to my own meeting.”
“Admiral,” she called, waiting for him to turn around. “I know you could order me to purge that virus.” He didn’t have to stop and explain anything to her. He didn’t have to tell her that he was going to take care of her, but he did. “Thank you for not.” It was a kindness. “I’m with you through and through, no matter what you’re planning to do.”
There was warmth in those gray eyes of hers, and that was unacceptable. “I’m planning to turn pirate, kill everyone supporting the New Era, steal the gold from their dental fillings, adorn the hull of my ship with it, and then carve their corpses into bone spikes for no particular reason.”
“What?”
He studied her horrified expression, calm as ever, not seeing an issue. “What?”
Oh, so not funny. “Don’t push it.” She wasn’t going to help destroy another planet unless it was uninhabited and he asked very nicely. “And don’t joke about that.” Mass murder was not amusing in any way.
“Who said it was a joke?” he asked over his shoulder. That was a perfectly valid option.
She crossed her arms, “This is why I couldn’t let you leave!” She’d be unleashing who-knew what chaos onto the worlds. “I have to keep you here so you won’t run off and murder people!”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he called back down the corridor. They both knew it wasn’t true.
She rolled her eyes in his general direction, both amused and exasperated. Still, she was grateful. That deeply concerning humor of his – at least she hoped it had been some poor attempt at humor – had dispelled her unease. No doubt, that had been his intention, always making sure she was happy and well-taken care of.
She smiled, “Thanks.” There was a reason she’d asked him to stay, and no, it wasn’t because she worried about him turning homicidal, though even she did have to wonder what he was planning to do.
It was a question that would soon be answered during the meeting that was gathering in the conference room.
The ship’s conference room was rectangular, long, and narrow like the old wood table that dominated it. On the edges, there was just enough room to move, and for a yeoman to stand by with a cart of refreshments and supplies. Of course, Admiral Gives found it strange to have someone forced to stand and wait on the officers, so that yeoman, usually his assistant, Ensign Feather, had a seat at the table with the rest of the senior officers.
The conference room was plain, but it served its purpose just fine. Keeping with the utilitarian style that dominated the rest of the ship, the walls were barren for the most part, though one had a large visage of the flaming red and yellow sun that served as the ship’s emblem. Here, it was still ringed in the silver stars of the flagship, though the letting had been changed from ‘Flagship’ to ‘Battleship’. The front of the room held a screen and a set of boards to be used for communications and planning. The third wall held a single frame filled by a small picture of the ship and a diagram of the ship’s layout.
The framed blueprints had been written all over in various colors of ink, marking sections of the ship that didn’t match build specifications, and the corrected measurements. Despite the hand-written marks, they were considered the most accurate set of engineering diagrams aboard ship.
Most of the chairs at the table were already full when Admiral Gives arrived, Zarrey near the head of the table on the right, and the others in their usual seats as well. Pflum was representing the ship’s Marines, Robinson was present for communications, Macintosh for medical and Galhino for sensors, among others. For the ship’s weapons division, Gaffigan remained absent.
They continued talking amongst themselves as the Admiral moved to his usual place at the head of the table. Ensign Feather, true to form, was working the refreshments cart, “Tea, sir?” she asked, brushing the bright red streak in her black hair behind her ear.
“No, thank you, Ensign. This should be quick.” The department heads would either agree with him or not. “Take your seat.”
“Aye, sir.” Feather made a quick lap around the table as new department heads showed, but soon took her usual spot on the Admiral’s left.
Last to arrive was the ship’s new engineering chief, Jefferson Ty. He stepped into the room frazzled and oil stained, but quickly found his way to a seat pointed out to him by the others. The chair creaked under his muscular weight as he dipped his head respectfully, “Admiral, sir.” This was a strange and foreign concept. Ty had never been in a meeting with the ship’s senior staff until this moment. In fact, until this moment, he’d only ever seen Admiral Gives sit once, behind the desk in his office.
“Chief Ty, welcome.” The Admiral acknowledged, “I hope you and my ship are understanding one another.” Ty nodded exhaustedly as he rubbed at the unkempt stubble growing on his face. “That said,” Admiral Gives said, easily drawing the attention of the meeting, “I am sure that by now, you all are well aware of the events that transpired this morning.”
Around the table, a few of the bolder crewmen nodded. Chief Ty glanced around, as if trying to discern the normal mood of these meetings as the Admiral continued. “Standing orders from Command are to disarm and dismantle as much of the Singularity as possible before turning her over to be scrapped.”
“Ha.” The half-choked laugh escaped from old woman at the end of the table. “That’s a load of beezlenac.” A twinkle illuminated her eyes, even as they were surrounded by crows’ feet. “We all know you’re not going to let that happen.”
“Of course not.” He would never let the worlds tear his ship apart. “However, I am no longer in a position to negotiate for those orders to be formally withdrawn. That leaves surprisingly few options.”
The aging woman smiled to herself, eyes twinkling underneath her white hat. “Alright, so let’s hear that half-baked plan.”
Chief Ty couldn’t help but stare at the ship’s cook. True, she was a member of the ship’s senior staff, but it was strange to see anyone make light of the Admiral. On a usual day, the man was terrifying.
Pflum crossed his arms across his tactical vest, “Mama’s right.” Of course, the old lady was usually right, and strangely wise. “Command betrayed us. Thirty-two of our people died last week. Reeter’s in charge now, and things won’t be getting better. It’s a matter of time before he goes after us again. Doing nothing is suicide.” They needed a plan.
“Beyond that, we can’t just turn the Singularity over to Command. She doesn’t deserve that.” Keifer Robinson shuddered to think what Reeter would do to the old ship before she was scrapped. “Hell, we don’t deserve that. I’d rather do anything than work with or for Admiral Reeter again.” If they turned the ship over, then the crew would be split up and reassigned, unless the Erans had other, worse plans for them. “Sir, ship’s home. I’m not leaving.” Robinson knew the Admiral could understand that.
The others around the table nodded, even Galhino, with some reluctance. Zarrey smirked a bit. Predictable. “To be entirely honest, sir, I’m not sure why you bothered calling a meeting. I think you know that we’re in. Whatever craziness is about to go down, we’re in. All the way.”
Admiral Gives was quite proud of his crew of so-called misfits in that moment. They were loveable fools. “Then I want each of you to meet with your departments. Any crewman that wants off this ship will be released from service without exception or judgement, though I cannot guarantee anything of their future in the fleet. Any and all crewmen that wish to stay should know that this is our final official port of call. The decision to stay cannot be undone. Our situation will be difficult and dangerous from here on. I have every intention of using Plan B.”
“Sounds like a party.” Zarrey said, his roguish grin only growing as he leaned back into the padded leather of his chair. “But why Plan B? What happened to Plan A?”
“It is not Plan B because it is the second one. It is Plan B because it is bad.” It was a terrible plan, one of the worst Admiral Gives had ever considered, but he did fully expect it to work.