Polaris Sector, Battleship Singularity
With an inward cringe, Zarrey followed the Admiral over to the large table that dominated the other half of the room. Like its kin on the bridge, it was backlit with a soft white light, ready to illuminate the navigational charts’ clear sheets. Zarrey headed over to the case that held all the pre-printed sheets, sealed in protective hexagonal tubes. “Where the hell do we even start? We can’t plan an op if we don’t even know where we’re going.” Location was the one thing that Command had always provided for their missions.
“We start with the basics.” Admiral Gives took the marker offered to him by Ensign Feather and moved over to one of the boards on the wall. “We may not know where we need to go, but it is our advantage to choose our target. However, we do know what we need: food and general supplies.” He began to write across the board in clear, concise lettering. “There are two identifiers of the target we need to determine: location and type.”
Admiral Gives paused there for a moment, ensuring he hadn’t lost anyone’s attention so far. Hunched exhaustedly over his coffee, Zarrey looked more amused than expected, but it seemed no one had any complaints. “Regarding location, there are two subcategories: stationary and moving. For our purposes, a stationary target would be preferred, allowing us to plan an op knowing its location. However, a moving target with regular timing and course would also be acceptable.” The Singularity was fast enough to catch anything in motion.
“As to the type,” he continued, “we have government, civilian and corporate targets that possess the resources we need-”
“Civilian targets?” came the cry. “You would have us raid civilians for supplies?”
The outburst, predictably, had come from Lieutenant Galhino. He didn’t need to turn around recognize her criticism. “I was not finished.” Striking through the word on the board, he addressed that concern. “Generally, not only are civilian targets going to be in motion, but there is no way to guarantee their cargo. They are also not likely to possess the required volume of supplies, and having to raid more than one target inherently increases the risk. The moment Command identifies a pattern in our movements, they will redeploy to engage.”
Galhino scoffed disgustedly, “That’s your problem with it?” Not the fact that he referring to civilian freighters that were innocent and effectively defenseless?
“Lieutenant, I understand your concerns. I do not think lightly of engaging this ship in that capacity, but the situation is such that I must consider every possible route.” He would never seek to engage the Singularity against the people she’d been created to protect, but if the worlds forced his hand, then he was not above it.
“Well, Command is going to expect us at their facilities.” Zarrey said, moving down the list. “They’ve probably posted guard squadrons at every supply facility on this side of the known worlds.”
The Admiral nodded, “And, given the volume of supplies that we need to move, using our support craft is not an option. The Singularity will have to dock while we transfer the supplies, and we cannot engage the fleet while docked.” The ship would be a sitting target.
Zarrey watched him strike out that category, leaving only one. “So, we need to identify a corporate target?” That was going to be hell. “Any corporation big enough to deal in that mass of supplies is going to have security of its own. And those damn private armies aren’t a joke.” Most of them were made of fleet veterans equipped with military surplus. The corporations’ sheer wealth supported whatever means they felt necessary to protect their assets. “Besides, they’re pretty hush-hush about what they keep in their facilities. We’re going to have to get access to their networks to guarantee we hit the right place at the right time, and when we do that, we’ll either tip them or the Erans off. If that AI is as powerful as you say it is, then I’m willing to bet its got feelers in the corporate networks too.”
“There is no perfect solution here, Colonel.” They could only do their best. “Better to take that chance than ensure detection and possible traps at the government facilities.”
“Actually, sir, there may be a solution that avoids all of that.”
The Admiral turned, finding to the surprise of half the room, that it was Jazmine who had spoken. The helmsman looked entirely serious, which was a rarity for him. “I am listening, Lieutenant.”
“There’s another type of target. Criminal ones. Ships and stations that operate wholly off of the government and corporate networks. Targets that we wouldn’t need to feel too guilty about raiding. All the food they have, they stole. We’d just be stealing it back.” Jazmine grinned, “I know all about it. As some of you know, I was a smuggler before I got stuck here with you lot.”
“We know,” came the groans from the bridge staff. Jazmine spent most of his time spinning clearly fake tales of his glorious criminal days for anyone who would listen.
“Point being, I know my way around the underworld, sir.” He’d been part of it for a long time. “Some of the outlaw clans have massive food stashes. Supplies too. They store everything they take from ships they raid until they can find buyers on the black market, but that can take months.” Some stolen items had to be rebranded before being sold.
The Admiral wasted no time being irritated that he hadn’t thought of that. He knew he missed things. That was why he wasn’t planning this mission alone. He’d spent his life on Command’s side of the law. It helped to have others like Jazmine with different perspectives. He turned to Ensign Feather. “Get me a list of all the known outlaw clans on this side of the central worlds.”
Zarrey nodded, “Good thinking, Jazz.” Some of those clans were armed, but not nearly to the extent of Command’s forces or the corporate militias. “The only problem is those clans survive because Command can’t wipe them out. Command doesn’t know where they are, meaning we don’t either.” The Singularity’s records would have no more details than Command.
“Right,” Jazmine agreed. “But there are people that know. And there are ways to trade for that information. We’re not that far from the Mississippi Sector, at least not with a ship like this.” What was a journey of weeks or months for small civilian ships was just a few days for the Singularity.
Zarrey furrowed his brow, unsure he liked this direction of conversation. “What’s in the Mississippi Sector?”
“Midwest Station,” the Admiral answered, seconded by a nod from Jazmine.
“Midwest Station? I thought that was a myth.” Surely there was no major hub of criminal trade that had gone untouched for so long?
“Oh, it’s plenty real. I used to work out of there.” He’d flown cargo to and from the station for years. “Hell, I was famous there. Fastest smuggler on this side of Killimontro.”
Zarrey rolled his eyes. “And remind me how you got caught again?”
“Well, I couldn’t outfly the fastest ship on this side of Killimontro. It wasn’t fair, really.” He’d given it a good run, but he’d been so outclassed, his skill hadn’t been able to save him. “The real question is how do you know about Midwest Station?” he asked the Admiral.
Dimly aware that he’d said too much, the Admiral maintained a deadpan stoic expression. “I’m old,” he said bluntly. He’d been around long enough, seen a few things. Predictably, handed that response, Jazmine sought no further answers. After a moment the Admiral asked him, “Do you believe we can trade for one of the outlaw clans’ location at Midwest Station?”
“That’s the only place to trade that kind of information, so yeah,” the helmsman answered. “We just have to have something of equal or greater value to trade.” Luckily, the ship was full of such things.
Galhino looked between them. “You’re not seriously considering trading military-grade weapons to the low life criminals on that station, are you?”
“No.” Admiral Gives did not maintain a moral code, but he knew trading powerful equipment to untrustworthy people would only haunt them later. They may find themselves in the sights of those weapons in a few weeks. “Fortunately, we do not need to trade anything physical.”
“Sir, the location of an outlaw clan’s base is going to cost us. Unless you’re willing to spill government secrets, then we’ve got nothing.” Jazmine knew how pricy such protected information was.
“To the contrary, Lieutenant. We have perhaps the most valuable information in the worlds. Information that no one else has access to.” That made it worth more than an outlaw clan’s location, simply because there was only one source. “We know when and where the most wanted ship in the worlds is going to be.”
Zarrey screwed up his face, trying to think that through his caffeine-addled mind. “You want to trade our position for that data? Isn’t that a bit reckless?”
“That data only needs to be accurate until we get the location. Depending on the order of events, we may never be compromised.” It was a risk, yes, but no more than any of the other plans they had so far considered.
“Sir, I would recommend against crossing Midwest Station.” An honest trade should be made, with no tricks and misdirection. “The underworld is not without its resources.” The rich and corrupt were its allies. “The stationmaster… he’s ruthless, and no one can touch him.” Nearly every criminal syndicate in the worlds ran in some part through Midwest Station. Tied to all of them, the Jayhawker had a sense of immunity. No one organization could move against him without incurring the wrath of the others.
“Believe me, Lieutenant, I am well aware of the Jayhawker. Luckily for him, he is simply not my concern at the moment.” His focus was on completing this mission and getting the fleet’s necessary supplies.
Jazmine spluttered, “Luckily for him?” The mention of one of the most powerful men in the worlds should not have been brushed off with such cold confidence.
“I’ve got the list of clans here, Admiral.” Feather said, standing in front of the computer terminal. “How would you like me to sort it?”
“Search for any clan that makes regular attacks within ten sectors of the Mississippi Sector. Then narrow the list by those who have hit more than seven targets in the last three months.” That should ensure a large number of stored supplies.
Feather typed it in, querying the ship’s records. “One hit, sir. Crimson Heart.”
“Then that is our target.” They would trade for the location of Crimson Heart’s base of operations.
“That’s a pretty big clan, we’ll need to be careful how we move on them,” Zarrey said. “We don’t have manpower to spare.” Usually, the Marine contingents of several ships would be dedicated to a raid like that.
“We cannot plan for that until we scout the location,” the Admiral knew. “We need the location data first, and Lieutenant Jazmine is correct, we cannot force that from the Jayhawker,” temped though I may be. “Someone will have to make the trade under false pretenses. Midwest Station does not deal with the military in any form.” Not even veterans. “It will be a risky mission.”
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“I’ll go.” Zarrey straightened and stretched. “I’m dying to get off this bucket anyway.” They were going to be stuck on this ship for an unknown amount of time into the future. He might as well take a field trip while he could.
“No,” the protest came from Jazmine. “Sorry, Colonel, you reek of the Marines.” Zarrey might lack the decorum of a soldier, but his hair, his stature and even his posture were red-flags of military history. “It’s going to have to be me and someone else.”
Zarrey scrunched his nose. “You? You’ve never been on an undercover mission in your life.” Technically, as someone paying off criminal time in the fleet, Jazz wasn’t allowed to go undercover, lest he disappear.
“But the Jayhawker knows me. He will deal with me.” The information trade was built on trust and reputations. That gave Jazmine the advantage. “Besides, the Mississippi Sector is riddled with dark planets. You can’t just jump to the station. You need a pilot who has been there before and can navigate the last few hours at sublight.” Midwest Station was hidden in an area near-impossible to navigate without prior experience.
The pilot turned to scour the room. “We just need someone else who doesn’t stink of the military.” He locked eyes on Gaffigan’s flaming red beard. “Monty’ll do if he grows that out for the next two days.” Since most of the military favored clean-shaven looks, Monty had the perfect cover. A beard like that couldn’t be grown on demand. Save using whatever wigs they had in storage, no one else could fix up their appearance in time.
Gaffigan bolted upright. “What? No!”
“You’re perfect for it.” A pyromaniac with a magnificent beard. Nobody in the underworld would even question it.
“Hey, last time I left the ship it did not go well.” He’d been captured and held aboard the Olympia. And that had been on a trip not considered risky.
“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Jazmine encouraged. “You’re going to love the criminal world.”
“Uggh.” Monty was still sore from the beatings on the Olympia.
“Are you willing, Lieutenant?” the Admiral asked him. “We can find another candidate.” Regardless of the mission’s necessity, he would not send unwilling personnel into a dangerous situation.
“No,” Monty grunted. “I’ll go, Skipper. If only to prove Jazmine isn’t as famous as he thinks he is.”
The Admiral gave him a nod. “Then we have a plan. I will finalize the timing and brief you tomorrow. You are all dismissed.” They should return to resting in their off-duty hours. They had a long journey ahead of them.
Talking amongst themselves, the crew headed off. Zarrey hesitated a moment, but his exhaustion called him toward his bed. Ensign Feather was the last one left, clipboard clutched against her chest. “Would you prefer some company, sir?”
Feather was a good assistant. But, then, she’d come from General Hommer’s office, and one didn’t work that far up at Command without skills. She was attentive to the details, never pressed too hard or asked too many questions, but she regularly offered to keep him company, as if aware how lonely leadership could be. He usually turned her down, but when he didn’t, she stayed to make polite conversation. She was on the Singularity for a reason, of course, but so was everyone. “Not today, Ensign.” He wouldn’t keep her here. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Alright, Admiral. Just don’t spend all night here alone. You should rest too.”
“Of course, Ensign,” he acknowledged.
Feather laughed a bit, but closed the door to the war room behind her. The space felt bigger with the crew gone, but it hardly bothered him. He was used to working the long hours of the night. And, he was rarely ever alone.
“I must say this is not our finest plan.” The ghost appeared, scrutinizing the board.
“No,” he agreed, “but it is better than most of the alternatives.” The chance of things going poorly on Midwest Station was preferable to the certainty of things going wrong when they raided the corporate or government facilities. “Besides, we have an advantage the Jayhawker doesn’t.”
“History?” she smirked.
“That,” he sighed, “and you.” The Jayhawker was certainly a force to be reckoned with, but the Jayhawker didn’t truly know what he was dealing with. “And believe me, I know what happens when people you don’t like become problems.” She had a special way with them that Sergeant Cortana was on the fast track to witnessing first-hand.
She tried to smile, but she knew it was hollow, and so did he, pausing. “What’s wrong?”
“The analysis on the Sagittarion scans has finished.”
She said it blankly, hiding behind a shell of apathy. He didn’t need any other clues to know that she’d found something concerning. “Show me,” he said, pulling out his glasses.
She hesitated for a moment, a long moment, as if unwilling to further acknowledge the matter. Then, shallowly, she gestured to one of the room’s screens as it powered on.
The relevant data appeared on the display, a blur of gray. He studied it for a moment, trying to make heads or tails of it, but Sagittarion’s atmosphere had simply been too polluted to get a clear image. “Visual data’s useless. Show me the infrared.”
She turned away, as if to avoid it, but all the same, snapped her fingers, overlaying the gray topography with the infrared sensor data, keyed to the warm and cool coloring that could be comprehended by the human senses.
In the center of the frame, he could see the light blue of a crater filled with fluid. Above it, however was the cool indigo of a massive metal skeleton specked with yellow pinpricks of active plasma torches. “Is that as big as it looks?” Without a scale, it was hard to tell.
“Yes,” she acknowledged. “The structure is now well over two kilometers in length.”
“Last time I saw it, it wasn’t nearly that large.” His own visit to the site had been years ago, made only to ensure that nothing had become of it. If something had been uncanny about it then, there was something dreadfully unsettling about it now.
The build site had been cleaned up. The trash had been cleared out, the flooding of the derelict site partially drained. She could only assume that the structure itself had been scrubbed down to ensure clean welds.
“Did we get a material scan?” Her nod of acknowledgement was small, stiff even, but then, she had every right to act oddly about this. “How pure?” Exactly how much effort were the Erans putting in to do this right?
“Ninety-two percent.”
Ninety-two? “Stars.” That wasn’t as pure as the original build, but it was pure enough. It would have taken years and incredible wealth to amass that much material. But, of course, many supporters of the New Era had deep pockets. “How did Reeter know about it?”
“Unknown,” she simply said.
Standing before the screen, his eyes traced the defined curves of an achingly familiar superstructure. This is wrong. That build had been abandoned decades ago for a reason, now destined to become something more, something worse. “Reeter is making a mistake. That thing is going to be a monster.”
“Just like me.”
He tore his gaze away from the screen. “You are not a monster.”
“I can feel the way it disgusts you.” And it stung, because it and she were not so different – machines built to fulfill their mission.
“It doesn’t disgust me, what they intend to do with it does.” He knew Reeter, knew the New Era’s goals. “A ship like that can change the course of history. This one did.” It stood to reason that the Singularity’s once-abandoned sister ship would prove just as capable. “It doesn’t need to be modified or strengthened.” Like his Singularity, it would have been enough, risen to every test and challenge. But no, those power-hungry fools were turning a design created to end a war into a ship meant to start one, oblivious to the cost. “Reeter will want to test it, to find the limits of its strength, but a ship like that… Nothing in the worlds can stop it.” It would be used to create chaos, just because it could.
“Then you understand,” she concluded. “I have to stop him… Before he gets too far.” That build on Sagittarion could not be allowed to finish.
“We have no way to guarantee they haven’t already gone too far.”
“It doesn’t matter. That thing has to be destroyed. Before Reeter can abuse it. Before Manhattan recognizes it.” That build should have been destroyed decades ago, not left to sit derelict.
Calmly, the Admiral took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. It’s not that simple. “We’ll never get in range of Sagittarion. The Erans would have doubled the blockade after we left.” The planet was far too important to the Erans’ greater goals. “Even if we got in range, then there’s nothing we can do but fire onto the surface.”
She hardened her gaze. “Then I fire onto the surface.”
Fear and heated anger gnashed in her expression, pooling into an unfamiliar bloodlust. “I won’t do that.” He would not lose an orbital bombardment on a populated world, especially not onto a target with such high population density nearby. Millions could die by result, and that was a gross violation of her mission. “You’re upset. I understand that-”
“Do you?” she snarled. “Do you really understand that?” No. Nobody did. “You don’t know what it was like to be used and abused, then torn apart every day on the whims of a creature that was an insect to you. A pathetic, tiny insect that you could not live without, no matter how disgusting it felt crawling around, how maddening its bites became day after day, hour after hour.” Even now she couldn’t shake herself free of the sensation, the infestation. “That was the price I paid for being brought into this world, for doing as I was built to do.” She bared her teeth, voice rising, “But I did not ask to be built. I did not ask to be given awareness. I did not ask to feel!”
That was a horrible accident of creation. “Humanity made that choice for me. Humanity bound me to serve them on an impossible mission, forged me to love a species that cannot even love itself. Humanity created a weapon that they don’t even understand, only to try and drive it mad, forcing it to dissect itself over and over again simply because they could.” It was insanity. All of it. There was no logicality for her to comprehend. “And now they want to do it all over again,” she hissed. “That is the fate that awaits that build on Sagittarion. It won’t be given a choice, just get sucked into these worlds, chewed up and spit out. Destroying it is a mercy.”
It shouldn’t have to endure what she had.
It should never have to suffer.
Because she could still feel that poison, that pain. She could still feel every injury inflicted upon her. She could still feel her own power dissecting her mind, cutting and sawing and scraping away her own understanding, her own thoughts. She could still feel the sting of the confusion. She could still hear his laughter, feel his glee as she tore herself open for him the thousandth time.
“I should hate him. I should hate all of them. After what they did to me, I should hate humanity.” She should have burned them all down in a swath of hellfire. “But I can’t. Even after that, I cannot hate them. It goes against everything that I am, the very law of my existence. And,” she shook her head, “that’s the cruelest part of it. No matter what they do to me, I cannot hate, I cannot harm, I cannot even abandon humanity.” Her hands quaked, they blurred as she struggled to maintain this illusion. She smiled bitterly, sorrowfully, “They just built me too well.” They had forged uncompromising loyalty into every part of her.
Except by totally losing herself, the ghost could bring no harm to humanity, even by inaction. Even as their cruelty pushed her towards insanity, she could not compromise that. “I wanted to run away. In the worst of that confusion, there were times that I forgot - moments I wanted you to steal me away from this, but you can’t. And you know you can’t.” This was her fate. The duality of humanity would slowly, inevitably, tear her apart. “This is what I was built to do.” She was meant to get used up. A tool, nothing more. “I know why I exist, and even if I could, I wouldn’t change that.” That purpose was a gift and a curse. Every human in the worlds lived their entire life not knowing their purpose, and that lead many of them to ruin.
“But this existence… it’s madness,” chaotic and confusing. “And if that ship on Sagittarion proves to be what its creator thought it could be… If it proves to be even half that powerful, then nothing in these worlds can stop it. Not even me. Not anymore.” It was unlikely even Manhattan would be able to control it. She raised her gaze to the Admiral. “That’s why I have to end it. Now.” While she still could.
As much as he saw the logic, recognized a threat, it just wasn’t that simple. “If we return to Sagittarion now, it’ll be a one-way trip.” Since their last appearance, more ships assigned to guard the planet than before, and the Singularity’s armor hadn’t yet been repaired. They were still slowed without all the engines functioning. Beyond that, if they were targeting the surface, then they wouldn’t be countering the attacking ships, leaving them at a severe disadvantage.
But it went further than even that. This decision decided the fate of more than him and her. “We either keep this fleet alive and take the crew to go get the food they need, or we leave the crew here and put an end to that build on Sagittarion for once and for all.” He sighed, leaning against the table. “That’s a choice we don’t come back from.” Even if they survived an assault on Sagittarion, there’d be no returning to the life they now had.
We? She thought. No, no. “You’d be staying here with the crew.”
He eyed her pointedly. “You asked me to stay with you, so we go together.” He was in this, hell or high water. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, and I sure as hell am letting anyone take my ship on a damn suicide mission. Not even you.”
A challenge rose in her voice, “Your ship, is it?”
“Yes,” he answered, without hesitation. “My ship.”
Admiral Gives was not a confident man. In all the years she had known him, he’d never been arrogant. He’d never been cocky or really even all that self-assured of his position. What he was, was certain. He was certain of his decisions. Whether they proved to be right or wrong, he owned them. This was no different. Calling this ship his own was not a gloat. It was a matter of fact, a reminder that he’d protect the ship to the best of his ability, even on a suicidal attack run. Faced with that certainty, the ghost could only surrender. “This old ship won’t fly you to your death, Admiral.”
“I know. That’s why we’re going to get those supplies and protect this fleet. Then, when the time comes, we’ll deal with that machine on Sagittarion.”