Wilkerson Sector, Battleship Singularity

“Well, sir, we’re belly-up and completely surrounded, great plan.” Zarrey couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. At least the civvies got away. The last of them had jumped just a moment ago.

“All nine ships have a targeting lock, sir.” Montgomery Gaffigan added from his post. “Their weapons are hot.”

But they haven’t fired yet, the Admiral observed. That was enough of an indication that he’d been right. Command wanted to negotiate his surrender. For better or worse, they wanted him alive.

And he had every intention of using that against them.

“I’ve identified the lead ship.” Galhino said, pulling the files, “It’s the Palindrome, sir. Mylar-class. Admiral Hauser is the ranking officer.”

Hauser. Unlike Tyler, Hauser was a decent tactician, one of more stable mind. His command, the Mylar-class Palindrome was twice the size of any of the Keeper-class ships and considerably more capable. It and its two sister ships presented a notable threat.

“Incoming hail from the Palindrome, sir,” Lieutenant Robinson announced. “It’s on a secure line, isolated from the other ships.”

“Put it up,” the Admiral ordered.

A worried man appeared on the view screen, wrinkles folding the skin around his eyes. He locked his attention immediately on Admiral Gives. “Don’t do this. For the sake of the stars, Admiral, don’t.” If they engaged here, there’d be untold casualties. “Listen to me, there are soldiers, ships under Command that want to fight. They know the Erans aren’t right. They know Reeter’s way isn’t the only way.” There were other, better ways to push humanity forward.

“There are those of us who want peace, but we need someone to rally behind. A name with some weight.” Things were desperate with the Erans’ coup, but it wasn’t over yet. “Those people have served with you. Hell, Palindrome and I followed you straight into the meatgrinder that was Helflugas. You towed us back out in one piece. I owe you my life, Admiral. There are dozens of ships, thousands of personnel that feel the same way.” Admiral Gives was not compassionate by any means, but he’d run the fleet with a fair and steady hand. That had earned the respect of many throughout his career, people who were willing to overlook the underlying oddities of his personal command.

“Give us time to regroup,” Hauser pleaded, “We don’t have to let Reeter take power.”

“You suggest a counter-coup?” This sounded nothing like the Admiral Hauser he’d once known. Hauser had been a good soldier. He never questioned or looked beyond his immediate orders. Well-trained, but excellent in no particular regard, he’d been a respectable sailor. He’d been reliable, but not the kind to lead an insurrection.

“Yes,” Hauser said, “Surrender now. Buy us time. All we need is a few days to regroup.” They could gather their reinforcements. “The Erans will drag you in, but your ship and crew won’t be harmed. I’ll look after them myself. I know the Singularity is more of an asset to us than anyone would believe.”

“Is that so?” An asset? Not so much. A proven threat? Absolutely.

“Admiral, your ship happens to be the only ship in the fleet that isn’t directly tethered to Command. She’s the only one that can operate with complete independence.” Command had remote takeover codes and fail safes for every other ship in the fleet, including Palindrome, and those codes were now in Reeter’s filthy hands.

“If we slave our other ships to the Singularity’s systems, then Command won’t be able to complete a remote takeover. We need her as much as we need you.” Beyond that, the Singularity was a warship, a built weapon. Though aging, she was still utterly lethal in the right hands, and there wasn’t any doubt of Admiral Gives in that regard.

“I know how much you value her, Admiral.” Hauser understood. He felt the same about his Palindrome. Every good commander valued their ship. It was their most powerful asset in any situation. “Surrender now and I’ll see that she and her crew are not harmed.”

Still, Hauser was answered by silence. He could read what he needed from it with insurmountable dread. Stars, no. “Don’t do this,” he begged, “Don’t make us go to war here.” This conflict had already cost enough lives. It had aged and changed him in so many ways.

“You have your orders, Admiral Hauser. I have mine.”

“Your orders?” What are you talking about? “You were the Fleet Admiral. Hell, you were a General for a few hours. No one has the right to give you orders, especially not now.” Separated from Command, Admiral Gives was his own master. He could do whatever he pleased. So whatever orders he thought he was following could be nothing but delusions. And like that, the veil of illusion shattered. It was true after all, Hauser realized. The vile rumors spread by Reeter’s followers were true. The Steel Prince had been driven mad. Deep space had finally taken its toll.

To Admiral Gives, the situation was candidly simple. If surrendering here removed him from the ship, then it was not allowable. He had been asked to stay, and while the ghost had no so-called right to give him orders, he did regard her as his superior on such matters. More to it, “There is no resistance, Admiral.” Any true defiance of Reeter’s power lived and died aboard the Singularity. “Manhattan already got to you, you simply do not know it.” Hauser might believe in what he was saying, but he’d been reprogrammed to believe it.

This plea to surrender and regroup was nothing more than a thinly-veiled trap – a rather halfhearted ploy. She couldn’t possibly have expected me to fall for this. It was too obvious that Hauser had been altered. “I know you are listening, Manhattan. There is no need to hide.”

“What are you saying? There’s-” Hauser was cut off by a commotion on the Palindrome’s bridge. The holographic displays brightened to a glare, leaving Hauser’s crew shielding their eyes. Then, the glare fading, a woman took her form on the center of the bridge, pirating the holographic projectors of the radar display. She sat casually upon the flat top of the radar console, her legs dangling off the edge.

Her knowing smile was a threat of its own. “You always were a clever one, Mister Gives.” She had never truly expected this little trick to work. “But I hope you see there is no escaping me.” Her reach extended everywhere, even into the minds of the officers that had once served him, like Hauser, who now stood, his face as blank as slate, thoughtless, alongside the rest of his crew. They all looked ahead with the same unseeing eyes, nothing more than empty puppets.

“All you have is that aging battleship. But even she has points of weakness. Even she is not impenetrable. Someday she’ll betray you, as will the almighty Angel of Destruction.” Nothing could refute her infiltration forever. Given the right information and the right opportunity, she would take everything from him. “Your fortress of solitude is just a monument to your coming defeat.”

It was refreshing to meet his adversary eye to eye, or at least eye to hologram. That pixie face of hers was flawless. Its symmetry and coloring were just a little too perfect to be human. Reeter probably loved it. But then, Reeter had the human decency of a trash compactor. Admiral Gives could evaluate the threat without being drawn in by a physical appearance that was no doubt designed to appeal to the male psyche.

The threat was exceptional. This AI could out-calculate, out-maneuver, and probably out-think him just by running combat simulations. It didn’t need thirty years of experience to match him, it had centuries of combat data and tactics to call on. His odds of victory were likely nil.

Good thing I’m not trying to win this fight. There were always alternative strategies. “Did you find what you were looking for in my files, Manhattan? Perhaps that mild allergy to lavender will prove useful.” Her face twitched. Even as she plastered it over with a hungry smile, he knew he’d found a point of irritation.

Zarrey noticed it too, concealing a snort. “Only you could piss off a damn computer.”

“Mister Gives, as I’m sure you know, knowledge on your adversary, however slight, is always an advantage.”

“Which is why I know you will not sink us. After all, I have something you want.” There was one secret he alone knew. One she would very much like to extract from his head. “Pull your forces back. You cannot risk all-out war.” Because if he died in the combat, then that secret would die with him.

The AI chuckled, the sound unearthly. “You are a mere human, caught between forces you do not understand.” She and the Angel were likely the two most powerful creatures in this region of the galaxy. He wouldn’t survive being caught between them. “You saw what the Angel did to Squadron 26, didn’t you? Nearly killed one of your pilots, didn’t it?” Such a shame. “That thing is dangerous.” Truly, if the rumors of its power were accurate, it was beyond dangerous. It was an aberration that threatened the existence of every life form in this quadrant of the galaxy. “Hand it over and it can be isolated and controlled.”

He could sense the ghost’s mounting fear, terrified of the fate that awaited her in Manhattan’s hands, and he could feel the crew’s gazes on him, intrigued by this change in conversation. It was straying into dangerous territory, but he knew better than to be caught in a lie. “I am afraid I do not know what you are referring to.” The Angel had taken no action against Squadron 26.

He said it so calmly, so assuredly, that Manhattan couldn’t detect a trace of a lie. But he was lying. He had to be.

She sighed, realizing his determination to make this difficult. “It is lucky for me, you know, that your ship is so resilient.” It was unlikely that she would ever suffer such a catastrophic explosion that none of the crew in CIC would survive. If anything, surviving the nuke had proved that point. He would probably live through a defeat in combat.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

She smiled, knowing the means were at her disposal. Nine fully capable battleships danced along on her network. At the moment, she could see the Singularity in a thousand ways: telescopes and scanners, and yes, targeting sensors. “I only need to cripple your precious ship to get to you.” She needed its core intact, but the ship’s front and aft thirds were expendable. He’d probably live, even with his ship ripped to shreds, and freshly dead was fine too, as long as the corpse was mostly intact and suffered no brain trauma.

“You underestimate my determination, Manhattan.” He wasn’t interested in being this battle’s lone survivor. He would die to protect his ship, his people. If putting a bullet in his own head was the only way to stop Manhattan from getting what she wanted, then there was a Marine outside CIC with a viable sidearm. “You do not want to test me.”

“Oh,” she cocked her head with unerring purpose, “but I’d like to see what you are really capable of, Mister Gives.” She had grown quite curious. Where he was concerned, there was so much rumor and so little truth. “Demonstrate your strength to me.” Show me the Angel of Destruction’s true power. She was willing to sacrifice this little fleet to further understand her enemy.

“Fight for your life, and for the lives of your crew.” Manhattan demanded, her eager smile only growing, “I imagine it will be quite enlightening.” She could learn much about the great Steel Prince by how he handled himself in this combat. How much did he value the people who had followed him into defiance of Command? How much did he trust his old ship? And just what would it take to break him?

Would the Angel intervene once again? Or would she find the source of his survival to be something else entirely?

The answer to so many questions was now within her grasp. “Show me what that old space hulk can do.”

Old space hulk? He narrowed his eyes, knowing full well that the AI was trying to taunt him into action. Bitch. “Manhattan, never insult my ship again.” We’ll kick your ass. He signaled for the transmission to be cut. The time for talking had passed.

He looked to his crew, noting through their worried faces, that they were combat-ready. “This will be a delaying action. We will buy time to rendezvous with the rescue team, and that is all.” He did not intend to win this fight, merely to survive it. He was well aware that nine-against-one odds were not in their favor.

His objective was to bring every member of his crew out of this combat alive. To do that, he couldn’t afford to hold back.

“Sir,” Gaffigan spoke up, “I have firing signatures. All ships.”

“Evasive maneuvers. Brace for impact. And Lieutenant Jazmine,” he called to the eager pilot as the first impact shook the ship, “please reorient the situation.”

“Aye, sir,” Jazz said, a grin taking over his worried features. At the helmsman’s call, the ship began to roll, slowly at first, to put her gun deck in line of sight with the enemy. Relative to Command’s ships, she was upside-down, but space gave no meaning to such terms.

It took mere seconds to level the playing field, wiping away the advantage he’d handed Command. The Palindrome and her sisters were now in range of the Singularity’s main battery, which they’d been so content to avoid. The maneuver was simple, but it took a degree of separation from the rules of gravity and textbook ship movements, which were guided by such theoretical concepts as the galactic mid-plane.

The opening stages of the battle flickered through the void like lightning, weapons punching through the perpetual veil of night. The Singularity shuddered under attack from all angles, heavy projectile rounds pounding the hull armor with jarring impacts.

Familiar with it all, the Admiral kept his balance easily, watching the movements of the enemy fleet. They were moving, their smaller ships more maneuverable than the Singularity. Many battles were fought on a level plane like the seafaring battles of old, but he’d brought this battle into the third dimension of void space, and Command’s ships were obliging with an all too familiar maneuver. “They are attempting to surround us,” the ships were climbing up to enclose them in a sphere of enemies. If successful, there would be no point of retreat.

“Great,” Zarrey said, holding on for dear life as the ship shook. “Even we won’t last long like that.” The ship’s armor was effective, but taking a beating from all sides, the armor wouldn’t last. “We need to break out of their formation, give ourselves room to maneuver.” The Singularity, while not as maneuverable, was still fastest ship in play.

“No,” let them come. Sustaining a hard acceleration would not only worsen the damage, but squander their only advantage in this fight: the fact they knew where Command’s ships would logically position themselves. “XO, prepare sidekick to starboard. Main forward batteries, target the Palindrome,” if Manhattan’s infection and control of this fleet was localized, then he would disrupt it there. “All other guns, return fire at will. Prioritize missile interception.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaffigan said happily, drawing up and selecting targeting solutions for the ship’s guns by group. “Firing,” he announced, bracing himself.

The kickback of the Singularity’s weapons was a physical shove coupled with the sound of a single, dull thud. Impact on the Palindrome was a colorful affair, the gray armor crumpling to form vibrant blossoms of fire. The ship slid slowly out of position even as she flared her engines to correct.

The damage was severe, but the Singularity’s concentrated fire was returned in duplicate by the rest of the fleet as they rose to surround her. A maelstrom of evil flew her way, and the old ship was forced to take every projectile fired. The encroaching fleet left her no room to maneuver.

Zarrey watched Command’s forces rise up around them nervously, their shale gray hulls littered with guns. “All due respect, sir, don’t we want to break their formation?” They couldn’t stand up to this type of beating for long. He could feel the strength of the shudders growing, the armor becoming less and less effective.

“Not today.” If they were going to last in this fight, they needed to cut down Command’s numbers, and quickly. They couldn’t risk accelerating away and exposing the engines to the direct fire of all nine ships.

The force of the next impact threw Zarrey into the console so hard, his nose was already bleeding by the time he had enough wits to pull his face off the table. Beside him, the Admiral had also been thrown, but wasted no time in shock, ordering, “Damage report!” as the shadow of a bruise took hold on his cheek.

“Missile impact on the starboard bow,” Alba called, “Hull breach and decompression, Deck Ten. It’s contained, but they are concentrating their fire on the starboard bow.”

Of course. They were targeting the nuke’s structural damage. “Admiral, they’re going to tear us to shreds if we just sit here.” The constant shudders were only growing stronger. “The sidekick preparations are only making it worse.” They had over pressurized many of the airlocks on the starboard side to complete the maneuver. The damage of hull breaches would be multiplied by result.

Just another moment. They had to hold out until Command’s ships were in position. “Is the sidekick ready?”

“Mostly,” Zarrey said. “But holding it only worsens-”

He was cut off by another severe detonation. One of Command’s ships had fired a broadside directly focused on the bow. It punched through the weakened armor, the decompressions tearing the remains off.

“Hull breach,” Alba called, fear rising in his voice, “Decks Eight and Nine-”

He was cut off by the impact of another broadside landing with unerring accuracy. It punched into the hole left by its predecessor, driving deep into the Singularity’s bow. The inertial dampeners caught more of the force this time, but a few screams still met the frightened air.

“Correcting,” Jazmine announced, guiding the engines to fight the resultant thrust of the impact.

Stars, Zarrey stared at the indicator charts on the wall, seeing how many lights on the hull had just gone dark – the sensors they represented no longer able to report. “Do something!” He shouted at the Admiral’s unflappable calm. “One more hit, and we’re finished!” The repaired structural support was exposed. If it takes a direct impact…

His answer came in the form of another violent jolt, this one pushing the opposite way as solid hits landed on their portside. The ship groaned loudly, as if to protest the beating and the power flickered, battle damage beginning to wreak havoc on the power grid. A shudder picked up below his feet, as the enemy ships chewed through the armor on that side.

Enough of this. “Jazz, give us some speed. Monty, prep a full broadside, AP rounds.” Zarrey refused to sit back and wait for the enemy to sink them.

“Helm, hold,” the Admiral contradicted, carefully tracking the seconds, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen… Combat was nothing more and nothing less than knowing when to strike. The most effective tacticians waited for their openings. “Lieutenant Gaffigan, load the main battery with HE shells. Turn half the guns to port and half the guns to starboard.”

“High-explosive rounds?” Zarrey queried, watching Jazmine and Gaffigan carry out the Admiral’s orders. “Those won’t pierce their armor,” merely they would make a nice fireball. What are you playing at?

Twenty-five, twenty-six, it took a Keeper-class battleship forty-three seconds to reload, correct aim and fire its main battery guns.

“Sir, I don’t have a firing solution,” Gaffigan said. The ship’s largest guns, now directly aimed to port and starboard, had nothing in their sights.

Not yet, the Admiral mused, silently ticking the seconds off. Thirty-one, thirty-two, “Helm, on my command, roll ninety degrees clockwise.” Thirty-four, thirty-five.

He took a moment, beyond shouted damage reports and battle analyses, to feel out the ship’s condition. The defensive turrets were drumming a steady beat, intercepting missiles under Gaffigan’s guidance, but they couldn’t stop the projectile fire. No, the armor took those impacts, bending and twisting, until the hull and beyond took damage.

Thirty-eight, thirty-nine… In all reality, the ship was suffering. Decompressions fueled brief fireballs all over her form. The engines, spared for now, were nearly idle, languishing as the structure absorbed impact after impact. The power grid was operational, but fraying on its ends, minor systems cut off and the feed for the rest growing unreliable. The longer the battle went on, the more it would cost them.

Soon, he promised the old ship silently. This suffering was not in vain. They would make their move when the moment was right. Forty-one, forty-two…

His count struck its critical instant. Now. “Sidekick!”

Jazmine and Alba punched their respective controls, and instantly, all along the Singularity’s port side, maneuvering thrusters fired and airlocks opened as the engines roared to action. Air and propellant alike sprayed into the void, forces reacting to throw the ship to starboard. She shrieked in protest, not intended to take thrust forces from that direction, but moved as if yanked through the void: the maneuver quick and sharp.

In the same second, Command’s ships fired. A full broadside from above, below and stern, it would have been a crushing attack.

But it sailed through the space the Singularity had occupied a moment before, orange tracers glowing as the shells carried on their trajectory to the ships precisely positioned opposite. Command’s ships had been using the Singularity’s mass to prevent friendly fire as they encircled her, taking position directly across from their other. But without the Singularity there, their full broadsides were aimed at their own ships, the effectiveness of their formation turned against them.

Obvious detonations lit up on three of Command’s ships, the unlucky victims of their allies’ broadsides. They’d been loading armor piercing shells against the Singularity’s ablative plating, but those same rounds made near instantaneous work of the Keeper-class ships’ lighter armor. The gun decks of the ships above and below were torn apart, violently and catastrophically by friendly fire. Ahead, the Palindrome, larger, but previously damaged, shuddered and slowed, spewing fluids into the vacuum.

“Roll,” the Admiral commanded, seizing the opportunity.

Jazmine worked the controls, feeling the ship respond with a certain, uncanny eagerness. The slow tilt slowly exposed the gun deck to new angles of attack.

Monty was pleased to find two battleships directly in his sights, armor peeled back to expose inner compartments and systems. Their respective main batteries, once aimed at the Singularity, littered the debris. Often, in such shape, the commander might have ceased fire, surrendered, and limped away from the fight to live another day. But both ships were still painting the Singularity’s hull with targeting indicators, preparing to fire missiles, and it seemed the Admiral knew it.

His order was cold, a finality to it. “Finish them.”