Wilkerson Sector, Battleship Singularity

With a muted flash, the massive guns on the Singularity’s back fired. The slugs left a wispy trail of propellant in their wake, and met their mark in concentrated silence. The cores of the ships began to glow, the hellish orange of embers so unnatural in machines. The light rose slowly into visible flames, expanding outward, the ships’ fragile hulls cracking apart.

Final explosions riddled the structures: fuel and munitions detonating in the starry silence. The runaway reactions slowed and eventually stalled without oxygen, leaving the broken wrecks completely visible. Slowly, engines, hull armor and structure drifted away, the ships blown cleanly apart.

“Power signatures are failing,” Galhino confirmed the sight. “UCSC-43, 61, sunk.”

Zarrey watched the remains spread out through the camera feeds and breathed a sigh of relief. “Two down…”

“Seven to go,” the Admiral finished. It wasn’t nearly enough. They couldn’t go toe-to-toe with seven battleships, and the projectile fire was still too dense to risk summoning the away team. They’d never make it through.

“Sir,” Galhino called, “All ships are encroaching. They’re closing the distance.” Two of their comrades sunk, Command’s ships were now tightening the sphere.

“Fuck.” Zarrey cursed. “They’re going to board.” This was by the book, all of it was. They’d surrounded the Singularity, thus immobilizing her, and dealt enough damage to breach the armor and cause chaos on the internal comms. It was textbook boarding practice.

The Admiral nodded, “Prepare to repel boarders.” It seems Manhattan really, really wanted him alive. “XO, head up defense.” Zarrey could handle the ship’s internal defense. He had to focus on the external battle. “The rest of you,” he called, “eyes up. We are not finished.”

They were scared to death. It was too easy to tell. If this battle came to personnel combat, they were outnumbered seven to one – worse even, since a good portion of the ship’s crew: the engineers, yeomen and medics were barely trained in self-defense, let alone real combat. In CIC, charged with running the ship, these officers would have no real chance of defending themselves if hostile forces made it this far.

Galhino looked up only to meet Robinson’s gaze. They shared a long moment, seeking desperate comfort. We’ll be okay, Robinson’s brown eyes seemed to say. Galhino wished she could believe that.

The shudder of incoming fire made itself known again, breaking the terrified silence of CIC. Power flickered again, the power grid beginning to destabilize. We need to move, and the Admiral knew it. The Singularity was a tough ship, the finest he’d ever seen, but she couldn’t sustain this without consequences.

They had to break Command’s formation, now. Find the weak point, he told himself, scouring the readouts of the encroaching fleet. Distantly, he could hear the thunder of the turrets and the occasional clap of one of the main battery guns. Gaffigan and the turreters were doing a fine job keeping them busy.

There, one of the ships was moving slower than the rest, leaking fluid, engine coolant most likely. Dead ahead, the Palindrome was limping. A perfect next victim. “Main forward battery, target the Palindrome’s stern.” You won’t get away.

“Aye,” Gaffigan and Jazmine said, coordinating between their stations to aim the fixed barrels by maneuvering the ship.

Now time to distract. He wouldn’t make his target that obvious for Manhattan. “Main battery, concentrate fire on 62 and 45’s engines.” The Keeper-class ships adjacent to the Palindrome had names, certainly, but he wouldn’t bother to learn them in mid-battle. Calling them by their ID number worked just fine, and truly, their names were meaningless to him anyway.

“Firing,” Gaffigan called, bracing for a kickback that simply juddered the entire ship, the forces moving opposite to several different firing vectors.

The impacts had various results. A piece of one ship’s top engine was sheared clean off, throwing wild fluctuations into her course. The other simply earned a few smoldering holes. The Mylar-class Palindrome simply absorbed the hits, firing thrusters to correct position almost calmly. She was a larger and tougher build – the other two Mylar-class ships a largely untouched threat.

Damaged, the three ships ahead of them slowed, he could choose to accelerate the Singularity between any of them with a minor course adjustment, breaking the formation. Either Keeper-class would sink under the ensuing exchange of close-range fire, but luckily for them, he had no intention of changing course, at all.

Manhattan had wanted to know what this ‘old space hulk’ could do. Well, this was no deteriorating old wreck. This was a flagship of the fighting line and no AI had the right to insinuate otherwise. He put his hand on the console beside him, sensing the lingering power of the ship around him. Ready, old friend? It was time to unleash the demon.

The answer seemed to come in the form of a furious groan, not a strained noise, but the sound of a ship angered. It roared above the other noises of combat, a battle-cry of sorts. “Helm, all ahead flank speed.”

Shivers running down his spine, Jazmine turned to look at the Admiral’s cold gaze, seeing an unfamiliar malice that seemed to be echoed around him. “All ahead flank speed?” The Palindrome was dead ahead of them. “Without a course change-”

“Obey the order, Lieutenant.” Zarrey snapped. They didn’t have time to second guess. People died every second they wasted. “They want to play rough and send boarders, fine. We’ve got a few dirty tricks of our own.” He gave the Admiral a sharp nod, understanding the intention.

The Singularity’s engine noise throttled up to an audible rumble. “The Palindrome is in our way, Lieutenant,” the Admiral said. “Either they will move, or we will move them.” The Singularity’s armored bow could take the impact, physically shouldering the other ship aside. Unfortunately for Hauser’s Palindrome, she was slowed by engine damage, and her chances of getting out of the way were exceptionally low.

“Advise all crew to brace for hard impact,” the Admiral ordered Robinson, electing not to address the shocked expressions of the younger crew before he proceeded to specify his orders to Gaffigan.

In the brief pause of acceleration, Ensign Feather stepped up to the center of the bridge. “Sirs, I heard the call to repel boarders and thought you might be needing these.” She had fetched them personally from the officers’ respective quarters, offering out a set of weapons.

“Best assistant ever,” Zarrey grinned, grabbing his bag and holster. Not many would risk that kind of trip during combat like this. Strapping the sidearm to his hip, he pulled the protective gloves from the bag and onto his hands, following them with a brass knuckle on his left hand and a trench spike on his right. Excellent, “This battle was putting me in the mood to deck somebody.”

Lacking Zarrey’s enthusiasm, the Admiral took his own weapon, but made no move to ready it, leaving the sabre sheathed. “Thank you, Ensign.” This would bolster the bridge’s defenses. “Find somewhere to brace yourself.”

The jolts of combat had briefly lessened, the enemy ships working to correct firing solutions thrown off by the Singularity’s sudden acceleration. Ahead of them, the Palindrome’s engines were flaring, laboring to push the ship out of the way. The effort was applaudable, but fruitless, as the Singularity burned toward her.

“Alphabet is changing course and accelerating, sir.” One of the Palindome’s Mylar-class sisters was giving chase. “With our relative delta-V, she’ll catch up.” Their acceleration wasn’t enough to escape.

Jazmine moved to increase their thrust, the order to flank speed meant to ensure they were the fastest ship by a set margin.

“Hold,” the Admiral ordered. This acceleration would be just fine. He’d expected at least one ship to give chase. Ahead, the Palindrome’s image had grown large. This was the point of commitment to their course. Rolling the ship one way would yield a clean miss, rolling the other would be a direct ramming attack. Good. “Helm, give me a roll 50 degrees CCW.” Let’s show them how it’s done.

The Palindrome’s gray hull rose in view until it was all that was in sight. It was nothing but that slate gray armor, scratched from the battle. Zarrey watched the fine details become easily recognizable: arrays and airlocks, even the shadows of boarding pods and magnetic tethers. It seemed the Palindrome’s boarding forces were prepared to use the proximity to their advantage, even if they risked being crushed between two massive warships in the process.

Zarrey braced himself, wishing he shared the Admiral’s utter calm. “This better work.” It was one hell of a wager, pitting the Singularity’s superstructure directly against the Palindrome’s.

“You have so little faith, Colonel.” The ship simply deserved better. She had yet to fail them in any capacity. He certainly trusted her more than he did the crew as he watched the final distance between them and Palindrome disappear.

The Singularity’s sharply armored bow sheared in, crushing armor and hull beneath its force. With the scream and shudder of yielding metal, the ships locked together. People and objects were jerked, the additional mass forcibly changing the acceleration of the Singularity’s thrust.

“Impact,” Ensign Alba called, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. “Hull integrity is yielding. We’ve hit bone.” The bow had cut in enough to push directly against the Palindrome’s superstructure – the strongest part of any ship.

With a horrible jolt, the Palindrome’s structure tore past the hull, cutting inward to lock against the Singularity’s own. Entangled, the ships strained against each other in a duel of raw strength.

But the Singularity had come in with force and speed, so snagging the other ship’s superstructure tugged it along on her acceleration vector.

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The Singularity groaned, and in a violent instant, the snag was ripped out before the Palindrome could be yanked into her flank, truly colliding the ships. Yet, that wouldn’t save the Palindrome. She’d been forcibly tugged parallel to the Singularity’s lengthwise orientation, placing her right alongside the gun deck.

The dreadnaught’s massive guns had already been rotated to port, and at such close range, there was no need to sight them. Those that could see the Singularity aboard their waiting coffin were barely given a moment to contemplate it, presented with the long dark barrels of death’s scythe.

“Fire,” the Admiral ordered, and at once, eight of the Singularity’s main battery guns fired. Twenty-four shells lanced out, all in perfect synchronization, and tore into the Palindrome at point blank range.

And for the Palindrome, it was over. The ship and her crew were dying, the structure riddled with runaway explosions. It was now nothing more than a powerless mass, an obstacle – one that had just been put on a very useful trajectory.

“Remaining guns, fire.” Six more shells, these packed with high explosives, slammed into the Palindrome’s shredded bow. Orange detonations lit up, violent and unhindered, pushing the ship into a slow rotation.

It was left perpendicular in the Singularity’s wake, but the Mylar-class Alphabet had been burning at high-thrust, trying to catch up. The second round of broadsides had unexpectedly spun Palindrome into her path. Neither ship could stop or change course in time.

They crashed together in silent fanfare, metal shearing and coiling around itself. The two battleships forcibly merged into one ugly beast, fireballs lighting up its malformed mass.

“Holy fuck.” Jazmine breathed. The Admiral had just turned an entire battleship into an unwitting weapon. It was a terrifying, forced manipulation of the battlefield. Jazz had seen the Admiral in War Games, and that had been a show of exceptional tactical ability, but this, this was a whole other level.

The man didn’t even seem aware of his own brilliance or ruthlessness. He was cold and stoic, as if uncaring of the success as cheers rose up on the bridge.

The Singularity accelerated away quickly, devastation in her wake. A piece of Palindrome’s gray structure was wedged into the gaping maw of collateral damage on her portside bow, like a predator gnawing on the bones of its prey.

The crew whooped and hollered, Zarrey along with them until he heard the reports given to him on the other side of his handset. “Boarders are confirmed. Numbers and target unknown. Marines have engaged them on Deck Eight.” The fighting would be chaotic and mostly hand-to-hand, given that the inertial dampeners negated the use of firearms.

The Admiral nodded, confirmation that he heard, but made no response. “This fight is far from over,” he called to the bridge crew. Certainly, they’d done some damage, but, “We are still outnumbered five to one.” Command’s forces had been nearly halved, but it came at a cost. Not only was there now risk of sabotage from hostile boarders, but the ship had sustained heavy hull damage along the bow. They couldn’t sustain this fight, not without irreparable consequences.

Now, they had to recover the away team under the combined fire of five battleships, three of which were still mostly untouched by the fight. No, four battleships remaining, he corrected. One of the ships hadn’t given chase. Its engines had been damaged, and they’d be out of its viable combat range soon. Another was slowed, but still able to keep in range. The main threat was the third Mylar-class ship. Her firing field was a lot denser than the Keeper-class ships.

He checked the structural integrity chart. The hull on the Singularity’s bow was shredded, and they were losing less critical systems to power fluctuations that would be exponentially worsened by future damage, but structurally, she could handle a few more demanding maneuvers. He expected nothing less. “Alter course, heading 192 mark 20.”

“Aye, sir,” Jazmine said, bringing the ship about. “Bow, up.” He confirmed, pushing them further above the galactic plane, uncertain what good it would do to run nearly parallel with the nebula at such an angle.

The Admiral kept a careful eye on Zarrey’s grim expressions, but focused on his half of the battle. “Lieutenant, I want you to give me a flip-burn on my mark.” They’d only get one shot to do this right.

Jazmine could follow the intention, “You want to buzz them, sir?”

Admiral Gives nodded. “Can you do it?”

“Yes, sir, but at this speed, it’ll cost us.” The fuel burn and structural demands would be immense.

High cost or not, that maneuver could end this battle. He turned to the armory officer. “Make it count.”

Rocketing away with Command’s ships behind them, weapons impacts had grown rare. From this angle, the Singularity presented her smallest silhouette, making her harder to hit by design. Still, they weren’t accelerating hard enough to outrun Command’s ships, and soon enough, the shudders began to pick back up.

Zarrey had a layout of the ship’s diagram in front of him, marking off the sections that had been swept and where the enemy forces had been engaged. “Palindrome used her proximity against us,” he said, “we get that close again, we have to expect more boarders.” The enemy would be better prepared next time.

Truly, the Admiral was surprised Manhattan hadn’t seen it coming the first time. That ramming attack could have been turned horribly against him. It seemed Manhattan wasn’t a combat-oriented AI. She was capable enough, but not inherently creative, though she would probably learn quickly. He made a mental note to ask the ghost about Manhattan’s history. If not for combat, why had humanity’s AI been created?

“We have eight hostiles confirmed dead, quite a few wounded on our side,” Zarrey continued, “fighting still ongoing. Their target still remains unclear.” These boarding parties couldn’t hope to take the ship. Not enough forces had landed, but they could cut down crew, even sabotage the ship. They could slow down combat response enough to give their ships the advantage.

“No, wait,” Zarrey said, jotting down the latest sightings. They were definitely heading there. “They’re converging on the archives.” He cocked his head, “What the hell do they want in the archives?” It was nothing but dusty shelves and old files down there.

“Information,” the Admiral supposed. Manhattan wanted his knowledge on the Angel of Destruction, and apparently thought he was stupid enough to keep such things in the archives. Still, he hadn’t expected such fixation. The Angel hadn’t seen direct use decades, and should have been relegated to rumor, given the lack of information. But no, Manhattan was chasing data like a tracking hound. There must be history there I don’t know about. The ghost had acted strangely about Manhattan’s involvement from the start.

But, that was nothing he could afford to concern himself with at this time. “Keep them out of the archives, Colonel.” The information kept there was nothing of use to Manhattan, but given the towering shelves of objects and evidence, “It is the perfect place to hide a transponder.” It would take hours to search through, and by then another fleet would be on top of them. “Push them aft.”

The thought of the archives reminded him of Amelia. He looked to Robinson, “Where are our civvies?”

“Corporal Johnston took them to the medical bay when the fighting started. His team joined him there.” Ron, Amelia and their kids were well-protected.

Good, Johnston was a good soldier. His unit was a sort of special ops. The civvies and the medical bay would be well defended. No doubt, Johnston had intentionally combined those defensive goals. “Understood, Lieutenant, stand by to summon the away team.”

“Yes, sir,” Robinson answered, bracing her shaking hands against the control console. This lull in the battle, with less shaking and sparks, only allowed her anxiety to heighten. Stars, what the hell were they doing here? Nine ships? No one survived combat with nine battleships. A fleet like this could have doomed more than an entire nation’s national guard force. A fleet like this could have waged a war.

Was that what this was now? A war?

“Sir, they’re catching up.” Maria Galhino said, her announcement punctuated by a solid impact. Her hands felt numb, a physical trace of the panic she had shoved to the back of her mind. She’d seen combat before. Even in this time of so-called peace, the crew was no stranger to it, but this was different. The stakes were higher, the cost of a misstep, an error, was magnitudes greater. They weren’t facing hobbled separatist fleets, or frenzied cult ships rigged to detonate. They were against some of humanity’s finest forces, and even if this battle had started five to one, she would have doubted their odds of survival.

Now they were five to one, boarded and damaged. Galhino didn’t even know if the ship would survive whatever the Admiral demanded of her next, regardless of what the structural indicators said. The old ship had not been designed to move like that. The thrust forces involved, coupled with the stress concentration factors inflicted by combat damage, could easily tear her apart.

Panic and doubt were quickly settling in, the Admiral could see it on more than just Galhino’s face. This brief abeyance was only allowing hopelessness to manifest as the crew began to fully comprehend their situation. Even if they survived this, Command would only come after them in stronger numbers.

But that reality held no bearing on this battle. All they could afford to concern themselves with was this moment, now. Because right now, these were the moments that could turn this battle in Command’s favor. These were the moments that would determine their survival.

“Ensign Alba, standby for damage control.” This was going to hurt. The young engineer signaled with a thumbs-up, already busy with other preparations, so the Admiral turned to the helmsman and armory officer.

“Excess munitions are stowed, sir. Main battery and missile tubes are loaded. We’re ready.” Gaffigan’s excitement was muted, but still present. He’d never pass up an opportunity to throw a few in Command’s face – even if he’d rather their next victim be the Olympia.

Jazmine looked a great deal more nervous. “Ready as I’ll ever be, sir.”

“Then it would be rude to keep them waiting.” Command’s ships had built up enough speed. They weren’t far behind, but were apparently content to let him make the next move. Big mistake. “Go.”

Here goes, Jazz thought, throwing the ship’s pitch control forward. The thrusters on top of the bow fired at full force, shoving the nose of the ship down. The structure screeched in protest, bent between the sudden downward force and the continued thrust of the engines.

Zarrey had to shout to be heard over it, “I think it’s safe to say she doesn’t like this!”

With a grimace, Jazz fired up the thrusters on the stern to aid the flip. Turning the ship end over end wasn’t instantaneous, and it exposed a larger target area to the enemy, no doubt the opening they’d been waiting for.

All three ships fired their forward batteries. The rounds slammed into the bottom of the ship, scoring direct hits on the torn armor. The shock of the impacts rode up the ship’s straining spine, the deck shuddering like an earthquake.

The decompression alarm was wailing, the indicator charts clearly showing hull breaches. “Fires!” Alba called, “Multiple decks! They’re spreading.”

The Admiral steeled his countenance. “Get it under control, Ensign.” They couldn’t afford to falter here.

Jazmine cut the thrusters, letting inertia finish the flip. Slowly, the headings lined up, leaving them bow to bow with the enemy, the engines now burning against their velocity. The distance between them vanished as the Singularity started to slow.

“Sir,” Galhino called, “Anaphora has lined her forward bow with cutting drones, fire, and you’ll scatter them.” Undoubtedly, they’d pick some up by result, and those drones could wreak havoc by cutting into the hull.

Gaffigan cursed. “Damn thing’s getting smart.”

This was the first instance they had seen of the AI using unorthodox tactics. It was indeed adapting, but it was too little, too late. “Helm, all ahead full.”

“Aye, sir.” Jazmine said, minutely correcting their course as he brought the engines up to full power. Their hum heightened into a roar as they ate away at the ship’s backward velocity. The structure took the thrust quietly this time, this force a compression it had been designed to take.

Command’s ships had formed a V-formation as they chased the Singularity, the two Keeper-class ships flanked the Mylar-class Anaphora, with the fourth, slowed ship lagging somewhat behind. Now, however, the Singularity was lined up to face the center of the V with unerring accuracy, accelerating toward the Anaphora’s bow, which was writhing, covered in remotely-controlled cutting drones.

Manhattan must have recognized an attack stature, because all three ships in the V reversed their engines in an instant, fighting to slow down, even as inertia carried them onward in their initial direction.

The Singularity was faster. Her engines never had to reverse. As costly as a flip-burn was, it was the most effective way to turn a ship around. She’d had full acceleration on her side in an instant, now lined up to buzz by the Anaphora at close range, back-to-back. Or as it mattered more, gun deck to gun deck.