Polaris Sector, Battleship Singularity
Despite his heated departure, seeing the Admiral lose his perfect calm actually made Ron like him more. The irrationality of it proved that the man cared about something enough to evoke emotion. It proved in some small way that he was still human.
It proved that the Steel Prince was not as far removed from lowly emotions as he would have led people to assume. He had attachments, even if he hid them. There were things he valued, even if he denied it, and perhaps that was the most important distinction between him and Reeter. That in itself made them very different people, because Reeter valued nothing except his beliefs – his so-called destiny to save the worlds from themselves. To that, Reeter’s ship and crew were a means to an end. They meant nothing to him, just a shiny trinket that served a momentary use. When Reeter tired of them, they would be replaced.
Clearly, it was not so for Admiral Gives. With that difference between them, Reeter and Gives could never have been allies, but Ron couldn’t begin to guess who would be the victor in their fight. Gives’ attachment put the old Singularity up against whatever dirty tricks Reeter was willing to use.
But, Reeter had to know by now that Gives actually stood a chance, even a small one. If the results of the fight in the Wilkerson Sector were any indication, then the Singularity could hold her own, likely even against the modern flagship. Superweapon aside, the Singularity was a closer match to the Olympia than Ron would have thought possible.
But the question remained: to what lengths was Reeter willing to go? What evil was he willing to unleash to ensure the Singularity’s demise?
In his heart, Ron wanted to believe the Singularity could win the coming fight, but he knew Charleston Reeter, the monster that walked around in human skin. It would do anything to win, but would Gives do the same?
Uncontrolled, Reeter had grown into a leviathan whose tendrils reached into the hearts and minds of hundreds of worlds. With the help of that AI, all of Command’s resources had become puppets on strings, expansions of his will, bent to their flaws to do his bidding. Only in hiding had Ron managed to avoid it.
So, how was it that the Singularity’s crew had managed to avoid that manipulation entirely? Was it Gives’ leadership? No, Ron realized, there had to be something more, because Reeter didn’t control only people anymore. He now controlled Command and all its resources. He had undeniable control over any ship, station and system that could be remotely overridden or persuaded by propaganda.
Had the Gargantia lived through the hell of the Centaur System, her struggle would have been short. Command would have remotely shut down the ship, leaving its crew defenseless, but it seemed the Singularity could not be so easily dealt with. Command could not remotely override any of the ship’s systems. The technology was simply too old.
But how lucky could one get? With a strong-minded crew and a ship immune to Command’s overrides, there had to be a flaw somewhere. A chink in the armor that Reeter would drive his poisonous vibrissae into and slowly, inevitably bring the ones that resisted him down. And there was a chink, a weakness. The Black Box.
Ron had made a point to check for it. He’d pried up one of the deck plates, and carefully pulled through the wiring, ensuring he didn’t damage anything. Among the cables, the translucent hairlike strands had been difficult to spot, but they were there. Neurofibers. And their presence could only mean one thing: the Singularity had a Black Box, and that alone should have guaranteed Command’s ability to stop the ship, but it hadn’t. That and the Admiral’s reaction told him that there was something else about this ship that made it special.
However, denying Command was one thing. Facing the Olympia was quite another. Hordes of ships and soldiers forged to kill stood alongside Reeter. A part of Ron was grateful to leave the ship before the real fighting got started. Anabelle shouldn’t be caught in the middle of that.
A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts, and as he opened it, he found a small crowd outside. Anabelle jumped into his arms the minute she saw him, and he hoisted her up, reveling in the fact that her small body felt stronger than glass now. Amelia and Harrison were with her. Judging by the chocolate smear on Harrison’s chin, they’d come from the mess, where Amelia did school lessons to keep them busy and the ship’s cook showered them with treats.
However, it was the young woman who stood behind them that really captured Ron’s attention. She was a yeoman, judging by her suit-like uniform. “Yes?” He prompted her.
“Our best regards,” the young woman said with a knowing smile as she offered out the duffel bag in her hands. “You’ll find Anabelle’s medicine in there, as well as extra doses for one of the other kids on the Badger. Doctor Macintosh will be forwarding instructions to Captain Merlyn and the Matron.”
Grabbing the duffel with one hand, he nearly dropped it, it was so heavy. It wasn’t just medicine, Ron realized. These were his mission supplies, but in Amelia’s presence, the yeoman had withheld exactly who had sent the bag and its contents. Clever. She’d given him a perfect cover. “Thank you,” he said, reevaluating the young woman. She seemed capable, but then, they all did. Ron had yet to meet a member of the Singularity’s crew that couldn’t handle themselves and their duties.
“I also have details on your departure, Mister Parker,” the yeoman said, handing over a paper sheet. “And yours as well, Miss Amelia,” she continued, passing a second copy over. “Your shuttle is scheduled to disembark at 0600 tomorrow. Note that any delay will cause a disruption to the ship’s mission plans. The Admiral will not take kindly.”
“Departure?” Amelia echoed.
“Yes, ma’am. Details are on that sheet. You can call CIC if you have any further questions or need any assistance. We understand that it is short notice.”
Amelia turned the sheet over in her hands, still finding it odd that the ship transferred information almost entirely by paper. For a machine so advanced, it felt so arcane, pedestrian, almost. It detracted from what she knew this ship, as a battleship, was capable of. Skimming the information on the sheet, she found that this wasn’t a query, hell, it wasn’t even a request. It was an order. “We’re being transferred to the Badger?” On what grounds? “Why?” she demanded.
“I don’t know the details, ma’am. I was ordered to inform you and deliver the medicine.”
Amelia had nothing against the Badger, she’d run into Captain Merlyn and his passengers during their visit, but she did not appreciate being unloaded onto another ship like unwanted cargo. All that talk about giving us the choice… He’d made such a show of it after their escape from the Homebound Sector, and yet, here she was with no say in her fate. “That son of a…” she pursed her lips, barely restraining a curse as she remembered the children. “You’re his assistant,” she remembered this yeoman from the Admiral’s quarters. “Where is he?”
Ensign Feather could read the anger in her posture. “Ma’am, he is currently planning a mission. It would be best not to disturb him,” especially not with the intention of a one-sided shouting match.
“He just signed away me and my son’s life over to a complete stranger! I think that earns me the right to give him a piece of my mind. That coward didn’t even have the guts to tell me face-to-face! But, no, oh no,” she wagged her finger, “he is not getting off that easily.”
“Actually, he was here earlier,” Ron interjected. “He and I discussed it, and I think it’s for the best.”
Amelia whirled. “You did what?” She cried out. “You consented to this?” To being passed off like some baton?
“We talked it though,” Ron said, setting the duffle at his feet. “The Singularity’s likely headed into combat. It’s safer for us to stay with the fleet. I didn’t want ‘Belle getting hurt.”
Remembering her own recent injury, that pacified Amelia a little, but it made her more frustrated in other ways. “He’s avoiding me.” She’d suspected so the way he hid behind his work, always seeming to hold the watch or disappear. Now, she was certain. The fact that he’d come down here to speak to Ron alone proved it.
Ron swallowed and pulled uncomfortably at his flannel shirt with his free hand, the other still holding Anabelle against his side. Now knowing the fate of Amelia’s mother, dead with the rest of the Yokohoma’s passengers, the Admiral probably was avoiding her. Amelia was a reminder to him, a reminder of something terrible.
“I’m not going to be passed off like some object.” Amelia crushed the paper in her hands into a tight ball. “He told me I’d have a choice.” She was putting her foot down, no matter how logical the argument, she deserved to have that discussion, to ask those questions. “Watch Harrison,” she told Ron, “and you,” she glared at the Ensign, “you’ll take me to see him, right now.”
Ensign Feather took a breath, recognizing the mettle in her eyes. It seemed that steel ran in the family. She was not apt to disregard it. “Follow me, ma’am.”
“My name’s Amelia.” She was tired of being referred to respectfully, but impersonally.
“With all due respect, ma’am, until I know you personally, I will choose to address you formally.” It was best not to slip into informal habits. The yeomen were trained to handle matters of diplomacy where a slip of the tongue could be a criminal offense. Feather’s former post had drilled that into her. While she’d grown comfortable with the Admiral, guests aboard ship were another matter entirely.
Amelia took off after the yeoman, finding that she had to hurry her strides to keep up. “Well, you and he must get along splendidly.” That response was colder than she’d expected, considering how friendly the rest of the crew tended to be.
“I am just doing my job, ma’am.” She’d learned from the Admiral that sometimes a thick wall of patience handled things best. “But I will not deny that I know more about him than the rest of the crew.” There were days, rare days, that the Admiral would talk about things other than his work. “And I will ask that you respect him. I understand that you are family-”
“No, we’re not.”
“Then why do you feel so entitled?” Feather countered. “Why do you feel that you have the right to demand a conference with him, let alone answers?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Guffawing, Amelia stomped after her. “Who do you think you are, criticizing me? You have not been through what I’ve been through!” Maybe it was rude, maybe it was entitled for her to act like this, but she’d been ripped from her home, her life, by the man who’d killed her husband. She’d been held captive and tormented for days as Reeter tried to turn her into a political puppet. Then, she’d been brought aboard this ship and essentially ignored by the one person who probably should have given a damn. Now she was being thrown off like unwanted cargo without a word of explanation.
Feather stopped. She stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, pursing her red-colored lips as she tried to hold back. She shouldn’t get involved. The Admiral would disapprove. He felt that, as the ship’s commander, he should handle any trouble that arose. Knowing how hurtful people could be, he sought to shelter the crew, if possible. But, between this presumptuous woman and her previous interactions with the disrespectful Marine sergeant, Feather found it too hard to bite her tongue. “This may surprise you, Amelia, but most everyone on this ship has a reason they’re here. Most of them didn’t land here by choice, and most of them didn’t come from a happy little suburban life. Most of them have nowhere else to go. Most of them have never known a better home, and that includes the Admiral.” He had his reasons for being so loyal to the ship, as did they all. “And maybe, maybe, just for a moment, you should remember that you were the evidence that got him court martialed.”
It was a harsh truth, but it should reset Amelia’s perspective. “Because of what he did for you, he nearly lost the ship. If he had left you there, trapped in that cabin, Reeter never would have had the necessary evidence.” Everything but that single account had been inflated charges that never would have passed review. With those alone, no one would have moved against the Fleet Admiral. “Because of you, he nearly lost his home.” The Admiral might act distant and unaffected, but on that count, he wasn’t. Everyone needed a place to come home to.
“But you never bothered to thank him. Instead, you slapped him across the face because he wasn’t here to greet you with chocolates and a sympathy card.” Perhaps that was the most entitled thing Feather had ever heard. “The man was doing his job. Perhaps it frustrates you that the Admiral is the only thing he knows how to be anymore, but he’s been through more than you know, and there are people on this ship who owe him more than you can imagine.” The Admiral’s calm leadership had saved many lives, and granted a safe haven to many, Feather herself included.
“So, when you act like he owes you, Amelia, it’s hard to watch. It’s painful to those of us who know what he, we nearly lost because of you.” Most of the crew managed to be friendly. They didn’t worry about it, but Feather knew the Admiral better than most. “You’re talking about the man that nearly died a two weeks ago to save this entire ship. He’s not some monster. He’s not some robot. He’s just a man that hides his emotions because one too many people like you tried to abuse them.”
Amelia twisted her expression, “You do realize the man is a murderer. He killed his own father.”
“And in doing so, he saved your father’s life.” Admiral Gives didn’t talk much about his past, but Feather had been able to put the pieces together. He’d never been cruel by intention. Circumstances forced him to be. Circumstances painted him as the monster the worlds saw. “But, sure,” Feather snapped, starting off down the hall again, “why don’t you go yell at him some more.”
Stubbornly, the yeoman was silent for the rest of their walk. When they arrived to the war room, she simply pointed to the door and stood to the side, arms crossed.
“Don’t you need to announce me?” Wasn’t there some procedure for this?
“You want to talk to him so bad, you can announce yourself,” Feather said. She didn’t want to be responsible for putting the Admiral through this, even if the woman seemed to have calmed a marginal amount.
Taking a deep breath, Amelia stepped forward and knocked then paused for a second, trying to be polite before she opened the door and stepped inside.
The room she found on the other side was large, half of it filled with equipment that for once, looked to belong on a capable warship: a computer and screens displaying tactical data that she didn’t understand. The Admiral stood over the glowing table in the center, marker in hand as he continued to work, focused on the information in front of him. “Close the door,” he instructed without looking up.
“Right,” she remembered, turning around to close the hatch. She’d been told to do that before, something about fire and decompression safety.
“Now,” the Admiral said, making a final note before capping his marker and straightening up, “what can I help you with?”
“I started up here furious with you, you know.” But something about Ensign Feather’s insistence had calmed her. “Your assistant roughly snapped some sense into me. She’s quite a determined young woman.” Once, Amelia would have read that as evidence of a deeper, less proper relationship, but now she wasn’t so sure. And if that’s what it was, she didn’t want to know. “I’ve been harsh to you, Admiral.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But you are not the first.” Nor would she be the last.
She sighed. “It’s hard, you know. Everything I know is gone. I can’t go home. My son can’t go home. You took us away from there, and then you wouldn’t talk to me. I didn’t know why.” She’d waited and waited for a visit, for an explanation, but had received none.
“You never asked to talk.” After she’d slapped him and disowned him as family, he’d assumed she wanted distance.
“That’s not fair.” She didn’t know how things worked here. “All I ever knew was that you were busy. You can’t act like it was my fault for not requesting a meeting!”
“I never assigned fault,” he said calmly, watching her temper again rise. “Given the way you reacted in the medical bay, I thought it was clear you wanted nothing to do with me.” That was fair, as far as he was concerned.
“Dammit,” Amelia cursed, running her tense fingers through her auburn hair. “I just wanted you to act like you cared. To act like you really gave a damn, but that was just too much to ask, wasn’t it?” She stifled a bitter laugh. “The great Steel Prince would never give a damn about anyone.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what I expected. I guess I just wanted my father to be wrong about you.” She had wanted their savior to be some great affectionate champion and that simply wasn’t him. The crew had even tried to warn her. “But I guess it’s hard to care about someone who’s a stranger.” They’d never spent any time together.
With another sigh, she knew she had to let it go. She should never have come with expectations. She should never have hoped to see any part of her loving father in this man. It only reminded her that her father was completely and totally gone, dead, and she’d never see him or any aspect of him again, no matter how similar the Admiral’s face may look. “Now, look at me,” she sighed, “I’ve made a fool of myself in front of yet another member of your crew.” Amelia hadn’t seen her until now, standing motionless beside one of the screens, but the woman just smiled a bit in response, a kind, calming smile.
“Please, just act like I’m not here.” She was used to it.
Oddly, it was her voice that Amelia recognized. Wait a moment. “You’re the officer from the archives.” It was the same tall woman, almost anonymous in the black uniform worn by so many of the crew, but she had that unique hair, a silvery white color.
“Pay her no mind. She is helping me plan out the timing of our upcoming mission.” He cast the ghost a look, surprised that she’d chosen to reveal herself, but he supposed Amelia had no way to recognize her the way the crew did.
“Aren’t you a records officer?” There was no other reason she would have been in the archives. “How are you helping plan the mission?”
The ghost blinked, unexpecting the question and unsure how to answer it. Luckily, the Admiral interceded before her hesitation became obvious. “She is a tactical analysis officer, but she has a habit of interfering in affairs that she probably shouldn’t.”
The ghost narrowed her eyes, well aware he was making a point. ‘Very subtle,’ she snarked silently.
Until mere minutes before Amelia’s arrival, they’d been consumed by the horror on Sagittarion and all that it represented. It had taken a long time for the ghost to calm back down, but here she was meddling in his affairs like everything was normal. As exhausting as that was, it was also a relief. Sagittarion’s reality hadn’t changed things, at least not yet.
But the Admiral focused again on Amelia before she could begin to contemplate the oddities of his companion. “I am sorry. You expected me, wanted me to be something I am not.” He couldn’t be the openly affectionate, trusting person his brother had been. The cruelty of the worlds had taught him not to reveal his emotions the hard way. “I mean no harm to you, your son, Mister Parker or his daughter, but my first priority is the safety and wellbeing of my ship and her crew.” That would always be the case. “You will be safer on the Badger than travelling with us into combat.” She’d already been injured once. There was no reason to risk it again. “However, you still have a choice. I am still willing to transport you to a world of your choosing, as we discussed before.” She could willingly return to Reeter or try to hide on the Frontier. “Is that your preference?”
The question was void. There was no sincerity in it, and Amelia tried not to resent that. “We’ll go to the Badger.” She decided. “Then you’ll know where to find us, if you ever decide you want to be part of a family.”
There was a tint of bitter defeat in that, as if acknowledging that would never happen. She was right, of course. His distance was often a habit, but on her account, it was a conscious choice. “Your father wouldn’t forgive me for a reason.” When she found out why, Amelia wouldn’t either.
“Well, you robbed me of my ability to understand that when you took your file out of the archives, but I’m sure you had your reasons.” She wasn’t sure she cared what they were anymore. She’d said what she needed to say. “Come find me if you want to try and learn how to be human again.”
Amelia looked him over once more, his calm unbroken, and then headed for the door. “Goodbye,” she said, closing it behind her.
The Admiral looked after her for another moment, then returned his attention to the notes on the table, picking up a marker to continue his work. Planning the mission timings had proved to be complex. There were multiple moving parts and a vast distance between them that had to be manageable if things went wrong.
The ghost watched him, noting how robotic the movement seemed – driven, mechanical. “You’re not a machine, you know.” He was allowed to hesitate, to mourn, to feel. But he locked that tumult away, caged it up and buried it.
He didn’t answer, simply continued his work, single-minded in that directive. “Admiral,” she tried again, softer this time.
“There are a lot of days I think you would be a better human than I am.” She actually wanted to be involved in their affairs, wanted to care and wanted to help. He didn’t seek any of that anymore, simply fulfilled his duties. It was tragic in a sense. She was brought into this universe a being of metal and rigid purpose, but fought to grow beyond that. He’d been born flesh and bone and sought to forget that as often as he could.
“We are what we are, Admiral.” They were beings of circumstance. Neither had chosen to become what they now were. “You should have reached out to her. She was willing to try, if only you were as well.” It would do him well to build a relationship with someone real.
“She won’t forgive me when she learns what happened to her mother.” It was better not to put himself through that. He knew how it would end.
“You could tell her the truth, you know – what really happened that day.”
“Do you think she would believe me?” The rest of the worlds never did. He had grown accustomed to taking responsibility for that massacre. “No,” he asserted, “it’s better to keep my distance.”
“You say that about everyone.” He pushed everyone away, sometimes without fully realizing it. “You can’t live your life alone.”
He looked up, “I’m not alone.” I have you.
She hesitated to reply, recognizing that beautiful, wonderful certainty in his eyes. You shouldn’t trust me the way you do. She was only a machine. She wasn’t built to be a companion, only to answer authority, and she would always be limited by that. She wasn’t free to take care of him the way she wanted to. She couldn’t shirk the regulations, the rules. “Why won’t you let anyone else get close?” Why me? Why was she the only exception to his icy façade?
“Because the people that get close get hurt. Just like Sam. Just like Christine. Just like Chief Auger.” He didn’t like to talk about it, to think about it. “They all died because of me. Them and so many others. I don’t want to see that happen again.” He couldn’t stand the hurt it brought him. “But, I know you can handle yourself.” He wouldn’t have to lose her the way he had everyone else.
“I’m barely half of a functioning person. You know that.” The way she kept falling apart was proof. “This part of me isn’t even real.” It was nothing more than an illusion. “I’m just a ghost.”
She thought little of herself, but she was much more than she’d ever give herself credit for. She’d revealed herself to Amelia, taken that risk knowing another presence would keep the conversation mostly civil. She managed, despite her inhumanity, to do and be whatever he most needed her to be. “You’re enough,” he promised.