Homebound Sector, Haven System, Battleship Singularity
The Singularity’s bridge was not an ostentatious affair. It was designed to be robust and functional. Every control console had been splashed with acid, shot, and burned more than once. Repaired and refurbished as necessary, all of them did still work, even if several of them usually went unmanned.
Those left unmanned were left over from another era when the Singularity had served as flagship. Once, they had coordinated the fleet, directed support squadrons, and tracked supply expenditures over prolonged combat. Now, they sat derelict. The modern fleet had computerized such tasks, and no longer the flagship, the Singularity had no need for them. So, while there were four arcs of consoles on the bridge, not all of those workstations were crewed.
The bridge, while totally functional, wasn’t any nicer than the rest of the ship in appearance. It was spartan, designed to work with little concern for anything else. The shape of the consoles was angular with a beveled edge for safety. They were arranged to face the single, large screen at the front of the room, hiding the control displays from the camera used for visual communications. It was crude, but effective. No computer was necessary to blur out the confidential data that could be caught on the displays.
The console controlling input to the screen was beside the comm., up on the raised, largest arc of control consoles. Two more arcs sat behind the center of the room, which was dominated by the flat top of the radar console. The radar displays hung both above that table and at the front of the room, in clear view of everyone, but the associated hardware was underneath the table, hence its name.
The flat top of that console was just what it seemed: a table. It was backlit, allowing sheer sheets maps and tactical charts to be layered over on one another and clearly read. It was used for battle strategy, but also to hold whatever report the Admiral was reading and catch whatever Colonel Zarrey had spilled most recently on it.
Running the comm. for the last few hours, Lieutenant Keifer Robinson had gotten considerably better at finding the holes and imperfections in the communications blockade over. Still, when the first garbled transmission came through from someone claiming to be Gaffigan, she didn’t believe it.
Like everything else so far in the Homebound Sector, it seemed to be a trap. There was no way Gaffigan could have escaped, and there was no way that Reeter would have released him. Reeter’s intentions would never be so pure, and she knew that better than anyone.
Rumor had it that not one crewmember ever drew assignment aboard the Singularity on accident, and in Keifer’s experience, that was true. Crew only reached the Singularity when they requested a transfer and were desperate enough to go anywhere or when they were being punished for something. The Admiral never seemed to care where people were coming from or why they were leaving. He took the transfers without prejudice and without prying. In that, the ship operated with an essentially volunteer crew, where most crewmen had nowhere else to go.
Robinson was no different. There was a reason she called the ship home. Prior experiences had rendered her unwilling to leave. Her talents in communications had earned her an assignment to the Flagship Ariea prior to its destruction, Reeter’s first command, and she wished she could count the wrongs done to her there on her fingers.
It was because of those horrible experiences that Robinson refused to let her guard down while Reeter or his subordinates were within communications range. So, while the voice hailing them claimed to be Gaffigan, she was more than skeptical. The audio was so distorted by the signal blockade that the voice was unrecognizable, and she couldn’t get an origin or heading off the transmission. Standard for support craft, it was audio only.
She listened closely to the next transmission, carefully isolating it from the background noise as much as possible. It was still garbled and filled with static, but stronger this time, implying the sending transmitter was closer now. The man on the line had tossed out all radio formality, but his words were mostly still too garbled to understand, save for one bit: “I don’t know how to fly!” And that definitely sounded like Gaffigan.
She chose to respond then, focusing all the power of the Singularity’s transmitters into the area the recipient was most likely to be, amidships on the starboard side. “Unknown transport, request identity authentication?” She knew the broadcast had been horribly distorted by the feedback in her headset.
“Singularity… not copy… Repeat… message…” the throaty reply came, even clearer now, but still just as hopeless. Alone, the Singularity’s communications arrays couldn’t punch through the blanket of interference coating them.
The transmission was clear enough now. Robinson clearly recognized Gaffigan’s voice. “Standby, Lieutenant,” she transmitted, knowing the message would be helplessly garbled, “We hear you.” She looked up from her controls, and down to the lower level of CIC. “Maria, I need identification and range on a possible dropship off the starboard side headed our way.”
Lieutenant Galhino studied the sensor sweeps for a moment, squinting down at the readouts, and filtering through. “I’ve got a Rhino Six-Three-Niner off the starboard amidships. Sir,” she looked over to the Admiral, who was, as per usual, standing in the center of the bridge. “That ship is on a collision course. Range at three hundred and fifty kilometers.” For a crowded orbit, that wasn’t usually a cause for concern. Small ships like Rhinos would constantly maneuver and change course around larger ones, but their current situation as an enemy to the fleet was rather unique.
The Admiral put down the packet he’d been reading through, immediately sensing trouble. “Sound general quarters.” It was about time to take action anyway. Technically, he was due in court in fifteen minutes, not that he had any intention of showing up. “Lieutenant Robinson,” he called, taking off his glasses, “What did you hear from that Rhino?” She’d obviously heard something, or it wouldn’t have drawn their attention until it passed the ship’s alert proximity.
“Lieutenant Gaffigan is on board, sir.” Robinson replied, adjusting a slider on her console, “And he has readily announced that he has no idea how to fly that ship.”
“Gaffigan?” Zarrey looked up from the word search he’d been idly working on. “Are you sure?”
The communications officer nodded, “As sure as I can get with communications the way they are.”
“Works for me,” Zarrey said, tossing down his puzzle book and pencil. “Let’s figure out how to save his ass.”
“Get everyone off the hull,” the Admiral ordered. Gaffigan was still at some range, but he wouldn’t gamble the lives of the engineers on the hull.
“Scramble a squadron of Warhawks,” Zarrey added, “Intercept and divert his course. Then they can guide him through a landing.”
Not enough time. Guiding an untrained pilot through a landing would take sixty minutes to do it safely – sixty minutes they didn’t have, since Command was due to call in fifteen. “Belay that. Helm, full reverse.”
Jazmine followed the order swiftly with a nod of acknowledgement. The engines’ pitch rose for a moment as the ship began to slow and then move in the opposite direction she’d previously been going. For a ship her size battling momentum, the course change was quick.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Admiral?” Colonel Zarrey asked. Chances were they’d get clear, or close, but it was also possible they’d take the hit on the starboard bow, where there remained damage from the nuke. “We might be better off taking a hit amidships.” It wasn’t wise to excessively test the starboard bow’s structural integrity after such a recent collapse.
“I do not intend for there to be a ‘hit’.” Admiral Gives said coolly, evaluating the situation for the next logical course of action. “Lieutenant Galhino, can you remotely hack into the Rhino’s auto-pilot systems?”
She considered it, “Yes, theoretically, but that’s one of the Olympia’s Rhinos. It’s new, and has the best security software to date. I could do it, but it would take a significant amount of time, not to mention signal strength for a remote hack isn’t reliable at this range with the ongoing jamming.” Galhino’s curls bounced as she shook her head, “I would strongly advise an alternate course of action, sir.” All things considered, that plan wasn’t feasible.
“Range?” Zarrey asked, glancing up to the radar displays.
“Two hundred kilometers.”
Close enough, the Admiral supposed. “Get me the LCO.” In another minute, the Rhino would be close enough for certain signal transmissions to get through without distortion, specifically those on infrared line of sight systems. The signal blockade didn’t affect those much to start with. Mostly, such systems were limited by their own range.
“LC Hoth on the line, sir,” Robinson confirmed, routing the communication through the handset on the radar console.
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Admiral Gives didn’t waste a moment, “Lieutenant Colonel Hoth, Rhino Six-Three-Niner is off our starboard side. Activate the automatic guidance system and bring it into the starboard bay.” That system would override the Rhino’s auto-piloting computer and take over flight control and landing.
Jebbidiah Hoth, the former leader of the ship’s pilots, had been promoted and reassigned as the landing clearance officer. “Aye, sir,” he said, “I’ll give it a shot, but last I knew that system was offline for a reason.”
“Understood,” Admiral Gives confirmed, replacing the handset onto its rack. He looked up to find Colonel Zarrey staring at him with a somewhat familiar look of absolute horror. “Yes, XO?” he prompted.
Zarrey ran a nervous hand through his blond hair. “There are times that I really wish you tell a joke, and this is one of them.” However, in the bland overhead lighting of CIC, Admiral Gives looked as serious as ever.
“What about this situation encourages a joke, Colonel?” He had a helpless crewman on a collision course with the ship. There were lives on the line.
“Stars, you are totally clueless!” Some part of Zarrey had always assumed that the Admiral played clueless, but he was starting to think that it might be genuine at this point. “I was hoping you were kidding about the automatic guidance system.”
At which point did I come off as the kidding variety? The Admiral wondered. This seemed to be a perfectly logical course of action. “Why would I joke about that?”
“Because the automatic guidance system has a fifty-fifty chance of fireballing whatever ship it tries to bring in!” There was a reason they kept the damn thing offline. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Zarrey palmed his face, “What is wrong with you?” How was that a solution to Gaffigan’s situation?
Admiral Gives ignored the question. If his XO spent less time whining, and more time working, he’d probably be more useful in any given situation, including this one. “Range, Lieutenant?” he prompted the sensor officer.
“One hundred kilometers, sir.” Galhino said, actively choosing not to engage in Zarrey’s totally valid argument. She wasn’t eager to risk the Admiral’s wrath again any time soon.
Then the guidance systems should take over… he checked the radar readouts, …now. Smoothly, and predictably, the Rhino began to slow and bank away. After a few seconds, the change was obvious. Oh, well, would you look at that. Admiral Gives looked over to Zarrey. It’s almost like I know what I’m doing.
Zarrey cleared his throat awkwardly. The Admiral’s stony expression was as blank as ever, but Zarrey couldn’t help but feel he was being toyed with, like a lion playing with a mouse. “Cocky bastard,” he muttered, turning away to watch Gaffigan’s transport safely adjust course and begin lining up for a landing.
“Care to repeat that, XO?”
“Quit toying with me, you’ve made your point.” Zarrey snapped. He’d lost the trust he’d once held in the Admiral, but he needed to renew it or they weren’t going to get very far. He knew that, “But that doesn’t change the fact your ship is a temperamental bitch who only listens to you.”
And you wonder why she doesn’t seem to like you. That wasn’t a very respectful choice of words, but the Admiral elected not to address it. “Colonel, you thought activating the guidance systems was risky, and I respect your willingness to say so.” There weren’t many who would directly question his orders. “That is your job.”
Zarrey noticed the perplexed looks the crew was exchanging around them. “You don’t think that was a bit of a risk?” Fifty-fifty odds weren’t great.
“It was a calculated move.” The crew might think it callous, but he knew better. He knew this ship and no system on it was ever going to fireball her chief armory officer. That notoriously faulty system usually malfunctioned only when dealing with civilian transports – primarily those belonging to reporters and politicians. People we don’t like, so Admiral Gives had never dedicated resources to repair it. The unreliability of that rarely used system gave him a viable excuse not to ferry reporters and politicians around. It was perfect, as was the rest of the ship, as far as he was concerned.
“A calculated move, huh?” Zarrey said, crossing his arms. “This only forwards my ongoing theory.” The ship was a temperamental bitch that listened only to the Admiral. If anyone else had given that order, Zarrey would bet money it wouldn’t have worked. “There are times I think this ship would kill someone if you halfway asked her to.” And that was terrifying considering how morally ambiguous the Admiral could be.
“’Kill’ is a strong term for ‘intentionally crash’, don’t you think, XO?” Death was not necessarily involved. Terror and near-death? Probably, but that was not Admiral Gives’ problem. Disliking politicians and reporters did not make the ship a bitch. He would argue that made her reasonable. There was a reason they got along. In his experience, politicians were lying skin jobs filled with ambition and empty promises. Reporters were even worse, ready to trick, lie, and manipulate words against those who had spoken them.
Zarrey coughed a little bit, some poor attempt to conceal his realization. “You,” cough, “are,” cough, cough, “a,” cough, “maniac.”
The Admiral took it in stride. “That should not be news, XO.” Zarrey had served with him long enough to know that his usual methods invoked a certain level of chaos. He straightened the papers in his hands, tapping them quietly against the top of the radar console. “Go do final checks. We have five minutes, minimum, before Command calls.” They would make their move then.
“Yes, sir.” Zarrey said, turning to the crew around them, “Alright you Sinners, sound off.”
“Helm, standing by,” Jazmine said, cracking his knuckles.
“Sensors are operating normally,” Galhino called, pulling her curly hair up.
“Engineering, all systems green,” Alba added, looking up briefly from his controls.
Around CIC, the announcements went. Every crewman said their part, even Ensign Walters, their perpetually nervous navigator. Zarrey’s fiendish grin only grew with every iteration of ‘ready’. Finally, he turned back to the Admiral. “All systems are manned and ready, sir. Ship and crew await your commands.”
And a mighty fine ship and crew they were. “We wait,” the Admiral announced. He would let Command initiate contact.
It was in that moment that Gaffigan stepped onto the bridge, furiously dabbing at his matted beard with a clean, damp towel. Chief Ty followed him in, looking somewhat triumphant. “What are we waiting for, exactly?” he asked after a pause.
“Damn, Monty, you look like shit,” Jazmine said, craning his neck over his shoulder to look at the weapons officer.
“Agreed,” Zarrey said. “Go get yourself cleaned up, and let the Doc take a look at you. Those bruises look gnarly.” They blotted his visible skin with a marbling of blue, black, green and purple. Blood was still caked into his untrimmed beard no matter how he tried to remove it.
“Sir,” Gaffigan looked past Zarrey and appealed directly the Admiral, “I want nothing more than to sit here and look Charleston Reeter dead in the eye. I’d like to see how long it takes him to realize that I escaped from his allegedly-flawless fortress.”
The Admiral said nothing for a moment, expression unreadable. Monty shifted, unnerved to be under the Admiral’s direct scrutiny. The man really was a great deal more terrifying than Reeter, especially when he stood in silence, seeming to evaluate one’s existence. “I trust Chief Ty filled you in, Lieutenant?”
“He did,” Gaffigan nodded. The plan was relatively simple.
“Permission granted, Lieutenant. Return to your post, and welcome back.” Now, every member of the crew was accounted for. Things were shaping up nicely.
Colonel Zarrey stepped over, lowering his voice to not be overheard. “Sir, Gaffigan just escaped from the Olympia. No way in hell that happened without help. Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?”
He had help, and the Admiral knew it, even if he elected not to share that fact.
Zarrey sighed as he stood a full head taller than the ship commander. “Seriously? Now isn’t the time for you to clam up.” The Olympia, no matter how they made light of it, was a formidable foe. Her on board surveillance and security systems very much put those of the Singularity and any other ship in the fleet to shame. Gaffigan’s miraculous escape seemed only possible if he had been let free.
“A couple hours ago you were warning me that the New Era’s AI can alter our minds, our loyalties, and force us to do things that would have been previously against our will. Now you’re just going to ignore that possibility, and allow Monty full access to one of our most critical systems?” A hundred things could go wrong with someone compromised manning weapons. The ship could be rendered totally defenseless. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“He’s clear, XO.” Gaffigan’s recollection of his stay aboard the Olympia had been altered but that was all. The ghost had checked, and none of Manhattan’s tricks would slip past her.
The Admiral stated it so simply, like it was a commonly known fact. “You can’t know that.”
“He’s. Clear.”
Zarrey shuddered, that fleck of ice in the Admiral’s tone enough to make him want to drop the subject entirely. Still, he swallowed his uncertainties, reminding himself that asking these questions was his job. “And what if he’s not clear?”
“Then I will take care of it,” the Admiral promised coldly, stepping purposefully away from Zarrey. “Chief Ty,” he addressed the chief engineer, “did you finish?”
Ty settled up against the wall by the door. “Yes, sir. It was some of our finest work, if I may say so myself.” His predecessor would have been proud if he’d been here to see it. “I never thought we’d have the privilege.”
Across the room, Monty had slid into his usual chair, “Finish what?” He asked the helmsman, whose console was next to his own. It was rare for the chief engineer to linger on the bridge, let alone speak to the Admiral about anything.
Jazmine flipped his hair and leaned over towards Gaffigan, grinning. “Are you telling me you didn’t notice on the way over?”
“Notice what?” Gaffigan said, met with Jazmine’s amused chuckle. “Hey,” he defended, “I was busy, you know, almost colliding with the ship?” He turned to see Galhino roll her eyes at him. “What did I miss?”
“Well, you see, we had a meeting earlier today where we unanimously decided to follow a new plan that won’t put us at Reeter’s mercy…” Jazmine explained, “And well, when it was all said and done, the Admiral gave Chief Ty one order.” The helmsman dropped his voice and poorly attempted to wipe the smile from his face, preparing to impersonate their commanding officer. “All he said was: ‘Get me some flagship’s stars.’”
It was tradition that only one ship in the fleet was allowed to adorn its insignia and hull with silver stars, and that was the designated fleet flagship. That ship was the most powerful, most prestigious ship in the fleet. Fifteen years ago, when the Singularity had been denounced as flagship, the stars on her hull had been painted over.
The engineering crews had just spent the last few hours painting them back: a direct disregard of the Flagship Olympia. The mere sight of it would bring Reeter’s blood to a boil, along with the blood of anybody who believed in Admiral Reeter’s righteous cause.
“Oh,” Monty said softly, abruptly realizing the gravity of the situation. Those stars were a clear message that Admiral Gives was through playing along. Things were going to get interesting. “The gloves are off.”
“Well…” Jazmine nodded over to the Admiral’s hands, one of which remained covered. “At least one of them is.”
“Sir,” Lieutenant Robinson called over the noise of the bridge. “It’s time. Base Oceana is hailing again on a public frequency.”
“Very well,” Admiral Gives stepped back to his usual spot beside the radar console. He rested a hand on the metal rim of the console for a moment, recognizing the vibrations of a well-tuned ship. Showtime, old friend. “Put it up, Lieutenant.”