Polaris Sector, Battleship Singularity
It was a feat of incredible engineering. The cavernous portion of the ship normally held in vacuum had been pressurized to atmospheric standard in under half an hour. Now, a civilian cargo transport ship, the Badger, sat atop the landing bay’s immense plane.
The bay had been folded down, where it sealed airtight and level with the ship’s internal gravity field, then pressurized with breathable air. Making her way across the dark, flat surface, Keifer Robinson could recognize the space for what it was – a striking display of what resources and capabilities hid beyond the Singularity’s scarred hull.
Here, walking in this artificial cavern, it was impossible to forget how truly massive the old battleship truly was. The bay seemed to stretch impossibly far in both directions, entirely unobstructed. The lights illuminated everything from a great distance, their height making them a distant, artificial sun in its own right.
The blocky little Badger sat in the middle of the bay, safely secured to the deck by the invisible mag-locks and the pull of the Conjoiner Drives. In this space, the transport looked small, but as Keifer paused on the edge of its shadow, she recognized it to be the size of a three-story building, only furthering her realization of the Singularity’s astounding proportions. Living and working in the core of the ship, traveling through the maze of corridors, it was easy to forget the ship’s great size. While it never felt small, she visited only a mere fraction of the ship on any regular basis.
However, with the realization of the Singularity’s great size, always came Keifer’s subsequent realization that to their ship, the crew could be no more than bugs. Compared to the machine, their own size was equivalent to tiny insects, perhaps even smaller creatures still.
In some ways, that was a discomforting thought. Lieutenant Robinson could only hope that their importance amounted to more than insects – the squishable bottom of the food chain that could be so easily replaced. But, as an expert at communication, verbal and non-verbal alike, Keifer believed that the differences between the Singularity and her human crew were unimportant to the old dreadnaught. The machine had never seemed to be anything other than caring to the humans that worked regularly with her – never hostile, if sometimes oddly temperamental. After all, the Singularity had been built by human hands to serve humanity’s needs, a fact that was all too easy to forget.
Keifer quite liked the old ship. While the Singularity and her commander had a rather gruesome reputation amongst the worlds, she had never found either of them to be entirely deserving of it. The Admiral was a mystery of his own, but the ship… To Keifer, the ship’s quirks had never felt hostile. As that air anger in the Homebound Sector had, the old Singularity generally had a protective aura to her. At times, it could be odd or unnerving, but ultimately, it made Keifer feel safe.
It gave her the strength to approach the Badger with confidence. No one had gotten off the cargo hauler yet. They were probably waiting for permission to disembark, so Keifer made a last sweep of the crew doing inspections around her and stopped where she would be visible from the bridge windows. She could see no one through the polarized windows, but she waved upward and waited.
A minute later, the Badger’s cargo hold opened with a hiss, its large door lowering into a ramp. The anxious faces of thirty-odd kids waited beyond. Among that sea, three adults clearly stood out by height. Slowly, they all shuffled down the ramp and Keifer met them at its end, trying not to feel uncomfortable. While she was the communications specialist on board, it was rare she dealt with anyone unfamiliar in person. Issuing warnings and information over the radio was different entirely, and something she was more familiar with.
The Badger’s Captain was easy to identify as he waded to the front. He was wearing the traditional suit of a civilian captain: a navy jacket with gold embroidery on the sleeves, a white undershirt, and matching slacks. Stiffly, he nodded, “Permission to come aboard?”
“Of course, Captain, welcome.” The request to board was formal and polite, but not necessary as she was not the ship’s commanding officer. She offered out a hand, “I am the Singularity’s communications officer, Lieutenant Robinson.”
He took the handshake with a respectful, but obviously strained smile. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Her tan skin and ombre hair looked vaguely familiar, but likely, she’d been in the background of one of the hails.
Dark bags hung under the civilian captain’s eyes, and Merlyn’s posture was tense with unease, but Keifer knew it meant nothing. Everyone in the fleet was tired, and he turned to introduce his companions without further delay. He gestured to the man on his right, dressed in the wrinkled black uniform of a local, terrestrial policeman. “This is Officer Jones of the Sagittarion Police Department.”
“And this,” he turned to the woman on his other side, who appeared to be about Keifer’s age, “is the Orphanage Matron, Miss Delleora.” In response, the woman picked up her long skirt and curtsied, bowing a head of thick, wavy black hair.
“Welcome aboard, Officer, Miss,” she looked beyond to the kids of various ages, “and you as well, kids. We are happy to have you.” The Captain tried desperately to conceal his skepticism, but it was obvious to Robinson, even as she ignored it. “My orders were to guide the kids to the medical bay and then show you to the meeting, Captain. Will that be acceptable?”
“Yes,” Merlyn said, “but my engineer is still aboard my ship. Can he remain there?” It gave Merlyn some level of comfort that his ship wouldn’t be tampered with in his absence.
“That should be fine,” Robinson answered. “Follow me.”
The Lieutenant led them out of the Badger’s shadow, trying to keep an eye on the group and ensure no one fell behind. The awe on their young faces was clear as the kids gaped up at the distant, ribbed structure of the bay. After days in the cramped quarters of the Badger, and a lifetime in Sagittarion’s crumbling megacity, this might be the largest open space they’d ever seen.
When Robinson took the group onto the hangar deck beyond, she paused to let them stare, as even Jones had let his mouth fall open. The bustle of the hangar deck never failed to turn heads, even if there were less crew around than normal, divided between repairs and inspecting the landing bay. However, the absence of the crew only left the equipment and its surroundings more visible.
The ceiling here wasn’t as high as the bay, but the hangar deck was longer and wider, with structural support pillars placed regularly in perfect columns. Between them, dozens of support craft were lined up in rows. The red and white paint of the Arcbird fighters shined in the light. Bulky, less numerous Warhawks sat among them, obvious in their inky black coloring.
A few kids turned their noses up at the chemical stench of fuel and oil that pervaded this deck, but mostly, they only stared with eyes as wide as saucers.
Jones was just as awestruck as the rest of them, “Stars.” This made all the equipment available to the police on Sagittarion look like a joke, and with what he knew of this ship, it wasn’t even new. He couldn’t even imagine what a modern ship of the line looked like.
“Let me know if you have any questions,” Keifer told them. “I would be happy to answer them.” Part of her task here was to build trust, and with kids, that likely meant being a glorified tour guide, but she didn’t really mind. She was proud to serve on this ship.
But, though she waited, no questions came, so Keifer led them off the hangar deck and deeper into the ship. The sudden influx of children congested the hallways, but despite the crowding, the group still made good pace as the kids began to chitter amongst themselves.
The adults walked in silence, and Merlyn was content with that, grateful the Lieutenant did not try to pressure him into polite conversation, or spout propaganda to try and earn trust. The kids would have eaten it up, even if the adults knew better. No, Merlyn could only be uncomfortable bringing the kids here. It felt wrong. This very ship had once laid a brutal siege to their home world, resulting in millions of casualties. The fact they didn’t know that only made it worse.
Ahead, Robinson was all too aware of Merlyn’s tense posture, but didn’t seem hostile, so she just kept an eye on him as the matron awkwardly lengthened her gait to catch up. “Lieutenant Robinson, was it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You said you were the communications officer. What does that entail?” Helena could not help but wonder how different their lives truly were, since they seemed close to the same age.
“I monitor incoming and outgoing transmissions for the whole ship at my station, and am directly in charge of the Singularity’s communications division, which handles intra-ship communications as well as well as encrypting and decrypting secure transmissions. As of late, we have also begun practicing code-breaking.” Her division had headed up a large effort that would allow them to eavesdrop on Command’s data transfers, even without up-to-date codes and encryption keys.
“That…” Helena trailed off, reconsidering the young officer, “…seems like a big job.”
Keifer only smiled, “It keeps me busy.” With those responsibilities, her thoughts rarely strayed to the void, or to bigger issues like the fallout of their separation from Command.
“Have you been with the Singularity long?”
“Three years.” The question had been shy, and the matron seemed surprised when she answered openly. But, Keifer knew offering out information was a good way to build trust. “I took a transfer off the Flagship Ariea.”
That got Merlyn’s attention. “You transferred off the Ariea?” Did that not imply that she had willingly come to this post? “Why would you want to do that?”
Robinson fought to keep her expression light, too aware that she had invited this conversation. “Within the fleet, the Singularity had a reputation of adopting crewmen who had…” she hesitated, contemplating how best to put this with the children present, “…gone astray.” She didn’t want to sound defensive about it, but she did not like discussing or even thinking about her time on the Ariea. “I am much happier here than I was aboard Reeter’s flagship. The relative ages of the ships had nothing to do with it.”
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“Reeter? You served with Charleston Reeter?” The matron swooned, “Stars, he is so handsome.” Half the women in the worlds were in love with him. As the fleet’s poster boy, as well as the officer who handled the press, he was something of a celebrity, even on the poorer worlds. “What I wouldn’t give to marry a man like that.” He’d be wealthy and powerful enough to take her away from Sagittarion and let her never look back.
Keifer tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted, nausea kneading at her senses. Given the matron’s willingness to gossip, it seemed like she’d built more than trust, but established a friendship. She couldn’t ruin that with her past, but she also couldn’t force herself to continue that conversation. “I… um…” her voice unwillingly dropped, “…left the Ariea because of Reeter.”
“Oh,” Helena wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “I am so sorry.” She softened her tone, “I bet he breaks the hearts of a lot of beautiful women.”
“It… wasn’t like that.” In fact, it was sickening that the matron would assume something like that, but that was the way it always went. They all just assumed she was another lovesick, heartbroken girl. She got their pity, their apologies, but they had no idea. It never even occurred to them that Reeter might have done anything wrong. It made her feel disgusting, like she was in the wrong. It made her feel guilty for being the victim of abuse.
“And between you and me,” Keifer told the matron, suddenly uncaring about being friendly, “I’d keep your taste in men to yourself. Reeter is not very popular here.” Too many people on this crew had been hurt by Reeter and his beliefs.
A quiet fell as one of the older kids walked up to join them. Well, kid was probably the wrong term. He looked more like a teenager. He looked only a few years younger than some of the ship’s youngest crewmembers. “If you’re in charge of the communications division, that means you’re pretty high up in the command structure, right?” The thought fascinated him. He’d been planning to join the fleet as a way off Sagittarion. “So, if something bad happens, you’d be like the sixth person in line to inherit command?”
“I’d be ninth in line,” she corrected, welcoming the distraction. Inheriting command wasn’t something Keifer thought of often. She figured if there was a catastrophe large enough to wipe out Admiral Gives and Colonel Zarrey, along with everyone else in line up to her, there wouldn’t be much of a ship left to command.
“That’s pretty neat!”
The kid seemed genuinely impressed, but the thought of command, especially now, on a renegade ship, only made Robinson nervous.
“Alexian,” Matron Delleora said gently, “why don’t you go check on Veronica for me?”
He sighed, “Yes, ma’am.” Veronica wasn’t the youngest kid of the batch, but she was the smallest. Her body tended to be sickly and weak. As the oldest of the group, it was partly Alexian’s responsibility to help look after her, just as his predecessors had done for him as a young child. He dropped back and began to move amongst the smaller kids, looking for one in particular.
“Sorry about that.” Helena sighed, “Kids.” They just didn’t know when to shut up.
“It’s alright.” It was no worse than the matron’s own comments, and Amelia’s kid, Harrison, had approached her with similar questions.
As the group approached another hallway junction a panicked cry came from the back of the group. “Miss Delleora, Veronica’s missing!”
“What?” Helena Delleora whirled. Missing? “No,” she panicked, “this is my fault. I never should have agreed to this.” They should have stayed on the Badger where they were all safe. But now, Veronica could have wandered anywhere. This ship was huge. She could easily get hurt or turn sick before someone found her.
“Don’t worry,” Keifer tried to calm the woman, “I’ll call CIC and have them make an announcement. We’ll get everyone on the ship looking for her. Veronica will be just fine, she can’t have gotten far.” Even saying those words, Keifer knew it was a lie. The Singularity was a big ship, and with most of the crew preoccupied with repairs, Veronica could easily have wandered not only far, but into a hazardous area.
Helena’s eyes began to water. Officer Jones had stepped forward to comfort her, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. “We should have stayed on the Badger.” Merlyn had been sure to seal off areas of the ship where the kids could get hurt. With this ship, the damned Prince’s ship, there were no such guarantees.
A sudden groan from the machine around them only upset the Matron more, taking it as a sign of danger. Officer Jones found the creak similarly concerning. “Is it supposed to be doing that?”
“That’s perfectly normal,” Robinson assured. And it was, for the Singularity at least. More subtly, she smacked the bulkhead beside her. Not helping, she thought to the ship.
Officer Jones didn’t seem to believe her, but his objection was lost under sudden interjection from the hallway junction a few feet ahead. “Children?” came the scornful cough in a familiar tone, “Why are there children here? Is this a military ship or a daycare?”
The words, riddled with such bile, could only have been uttered by Steve Hawkins as he stood in his perfectly pressed suit, flanked by a clearly overwhelmed Lieutenant Jazmine.
“This is the Battleship Singularity,” Robinson defended. “Show some respect,” especially in front of the kids. They didn’t need to be subjected to Hawkins’ superiority complex.
“Is that supposed to mean something, missy?” the businessman chuckled ruefully, swaying on his feet. Beside him, Jazmine put a thumb to his lips and mirrored a makeshift bottle.
He’s drunk, Robinson realized. Hawkins’ blatant disrespect made more sense now, considering the Admiral had already put the fear of death into him. Apparently, that had driven him to a bottle of liquid courage, emboldening him once again.
Pulling out a flask, Hawkins sipped it, staggering forward. “I could’ve have sworn this was a trash heap,” he met Delleora’s eyes down the corridor, “just like the one you came from.” He licked his teeth, “I can’t help but wonder who wasted their fuel pulling you lot off that disgusting planet.”
The Matron curled her fists, her fear and anger broiling together, but Jones grabbed her before she could even start forward. “You self-indulgent coward!” the Matron cried. “I never should have come to you for help!” How could she have been so naïve? Hawkins would never have helped them get off Sagittarion. She could see that now, but days ago she had gone to plea for Knight Industries’ transportation off-planet.
Hawkins took the insult with a flashy smile of perfectly straight, white teeth, then turned to Jazmine. “Let us go. I’ve no interest in interacting with peasants who have no right to be here.”
No right to be here? Robinson stepped forward, “Mister Hawkins, the children have as much right to be here as you do.” Perhaps even more. The children had done no wrong, hurt no one.
“Is that so?” Hawkins straightened his tie. “Well, you’re impressively defensive. My company could use that kind of attitude, little missy.” He watched Robinson ball her fists, only smiling more as he realized he’d hit a nerve. “’Not a chance in hell.’ That’s what you’re thinking. But you don’t know what I can give you, missy.” He smiled, his head drunkenly tilting a bit too far, “And I can give you everything.”
Robinson shivered, this attitude suddenly too familiar, too unwelcome a memory.
“Mister Hawkins,” a deep voice interjected, turning heads, “you will address my crew by their proper titles, and give them every respect that you would grant me.”
The businessman blanched, the alcohol-flushed color of his face draining as he watched the Admiral approach. Before him, the children parted, recognizing authority, but his footsteps were shadowed by another, who peeked out to recognize Miss Delleora. “Matron!”
The kid ran straight into Helena’s arms, who embraced her with relief, recognizing her to be Veronica, the missing child. “Thank you,” she told the Admiral quietly.
He acknowledged that with a simple nod, more focused on Hawkins at the moment. His two officers looked quite relieved to find him where he needed to be, as always. That was easy enough to manage. The ghost directed him accordingly. With her help, he’d managed to intercept Veronica before she wandered too far and catch up with the group.
Admiral Gives had been disinclined to meet with the children, given his history and the results of his recent meeting with Anabelle, but the situation had not afforded him a choice. This was his job.
Determined to hold his ground, Merlyn watched the Admiral approach. It would be more suspicious if he ducked away. But, that’s definitely him, Merlyn thought. In twenty years, the man barely changed at all, only added more grays amongst his dark hair. It was still the same face that Merlyn vividly recalled from all those years ago on the Titanica’s bridge. When their eyes met, Merlyn’s blood turned to ice, worried that he’d been recognized, but the Admiral’s blue stare was impassive, and he quickly moved on.
“Lieutenant,” he addressed Robinson, “has Mister Hawkins acted severely out of line?”
Robinson could read no concern in ship commander’s expression, but the question itself was protective enough. “No, sir.” Hawkins had been on her nerves, and treading on some unwelcome memories, but the Admiral had arrived before it went any further than that.
“Lieutenant Jazmine?” he prompted the frazzled helmsman, looking for additional confirmation.
“Just mad he didn’t offer me any booze, sir.”
“Then you have my permission to confiscate the alcohol he brought illegally aboard my ship.”
Hawkins twisted away, a vain look of disbelief on his face as Jazmine grinned. The pilot easily reached over and grabbed the flask. Hawkins was too inebriated to stop him, his movements inaccurate and slowed. Jazz twisted off the cap and took a whiff. “Ooh,” he hummed, the scent delightfully burning is nose, “this is the good shit.”
Robinson coughed, “Language.” That was why she had been put in charge of the kids.
Jazmine didn’t care. He already had the flask raised to his lips, eager to forget every moment he’d so far spent with Hawkins’ damned superiority complex. The only thing that stopped him from tasting that sweet liquor was the subtle sound of someone clearing their throat. That was enough to draw his attention to the Admiral’s raised eyebrow. Right. Jazmine pulled the flask from his lips and pocketed it. “I’ll save it for off-duty, sir.”
Good. The last thing Admiral Gives needed right now was a drunk helmsman with a penchant for showing off.
Hawkins hiccupped a little, trying to smooth down hair that was already gelled perfectly into place. “What is this, a naddlethworfing pirate ship?” he reconsidered the scuffed bulkheads around him. “It certainly is starting to look the part. Those outlaws always preferred the old, weighty ships. And yours, well, it’s got size, but it’s so out of date the Olympia could wipe you out with a sneeze.” Numb lips lowered the businessman to a drawl, “Oh, that’s right, she almost did.” That nuke had been publicly labeled an accident.
“Do not compare us with the Olympia.” Admiral Gives lowered his tone, “You are luckier than you know.” The Olympia never would have bothered to find this fleet, and if she had, she would have finished the slaughter Tyler’s ships had started in Sagittarion’s orbit. “This may not be the glorious Flagship Olympia, but this is my flagship. She is every bit as capable, and you will treat her as such.”
The Admiral had not raised his volume in the slightest, but that only seemed to emphasize his words. Hawkins, though inebriated, knew a lost argument when he saw one. He’d been warned that the Fleet Admiral was inconsolable on the subject of his ship, no matter how Command or Knight Industries tried to sell him on a new design. “Take me to the conference room,” he commanded Jazmine.
The pilot waited for dismissal from the Admiral before leading Hawkins away, but did as told.
Hawkins summoned his most condescending look as he walked by. The Admiral gave no reaction, only said, “Lieutenant Jazmine, if he makes any more trouble, take him directly to the brig.” That quickly wiped the condescension from Hawkins’ face.
When Hawkins was finally out of sight, there was an audible sigh of relief from Robinson and the orphanage matron. Sensing all their attention now on him, the Admiral turned around. “Welcome aboard. I am Admiral Gives, the Singularity’s commanding officer.” The introduction was strictly polite, anyone privy to the ship-to-ship communications knew who he was. “I apologize for Mister Hawkins. His attitude is not representative of our own.” But somehow the businessman had bribed his way into a leadership position among a fraction of the fleet, and thus been brought onboard for the meeting.
No one responded. Neither the matron nor the police officer seemed to know how to react to him, and Captain Merlyn seemed exceptionally interested in anything but him, which suited the Admiral just fine. He’d rather not linger near the kids. Their inquisitive gazes brought back painful memories. “Lieutenant, can you take it from here?”
“Yes, sir,” Robinson said, intending to keep a closer eye on her charges. She didn’t need another wandering off.
“Then I am needed elsewhere.” Admiral Gives checked his watch, “The meeting will be beginning soon.” It would not do him well to be late to a meeting he had scheduled aboard his own ship. “Captain Merlyn, would you accompany me?”
Merlyn knew very well that he needed a guide to find the conference room. He couldn’t say no, but that didn’t change the fact that this was his worst nightmare. The last thing he needed was to be alone with the monster who had ended the Anti-Corporation Control Rebellion. Well, they had called it a rebellion. In reality, it had been a desperate protest and a death sentence to over three thousand people. Still, he managed to respond, trying vainly not to let his utter terror show. “That would be fine.”