Polaris Sector, Battleship Singularity
The exercise of doing the rounds gave Admiral Gives a feel for the crew’s mood, and it generally helped morale. It gave the crew a constant, and often made them more willing to approach him. He supposed, to them, meeting him on the rounds was more relaxed than seeking him out on the bridge or in his office. They saw it as a gesture of willingness to look eye to eye with the lowest echelons of the crew. Too many of their previous officers had confined themselves to the bridge or officer’s lounge, never to speak with the majority of those under their command.
The rounds were also a reminder to himself – a daily reminder of his responsibility to these people, to this crew. It was how he learned their faces and names, how he remembered their duties and personalities. If he didn’t learn that, speak to them, and see them every day, it became easier to distance himself and sacrifice their lives for the mission. But he didn’t want to make it easy. He didn’t want to do that. And so, the rounds had become his reminder, forcing him to know those that could die on his orders.
Before combat, these rounds were a torturous burden, and afterward, they were nothing but pain. The crew would look at him with betrayal in their eyes, as if he’d wanted their comrades to die, even if that couldn’t be further from the truth. But still, he forced himself through the rounds, even after combat. That pain was a penance for losing lives that he’d been sworn to protect.
Today, however, there was no betrayal in the crew’s eyes. The ship had escaped without casualties from the encounter with Squadron 26 and the battle in the Wilkerson Sector. There was uncertainty among the crew, anxious about their future without Command, but the Admiral knew continuing his regular schedule of rounds was a sign of promise to them: not everything would be different. The things this ship had given them over the years, be it a sense of purpose, a home, or a sense of family, those things would still be here, even without Command.
On his rounds, the Admiral generally let the crew approach him, but there were exceptions. The engineering chief was one of them, and Ty, like his predecessor, was found in the engineering spaces, the senior engineering staff gathered around him as he handed out shift assignments.
Ty was a big fellow, and he was near-shouting to be heard over the sound of machinery this far aft. It was abnormally warm so near the engines too, an imperfection in the heating and cooling systems, so most of the engineers had tied the top half of their orange coveralls around their waists. Below, they wore plain uniform shirts or tank tops.
The Admiral didn’t interrupt the engineers. The Chief would speak to him when ready and it served him to observe the crew’s interactions with one another. Through that, he could determine if the ship had a healthy working environment, another subtle but key detail in maintaining a stable command.
“Hi, Admiral.”
Turning, he watched someone step up beside him. “Ensign Smith,” he greeted, “good morning.”
Callie was one of the few crew that spoke willingly with him. On his rounds, she regularly sought him out either here or on the hangar deck. He wasn’t quite sure why. His disposition was not generally considered friendly, and he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Their interactions rarely ever went beyond generic niceties, but he didn’t mind. “How are you doing?”
Callie smiled. “I’m okay.” As one of the least experienced crew, she had no business in Chief Ty’s meeting with the senior engineers, but she’d come down to wait for her daily assignment. Likely, she’d be working here with the main engines, as she usually did. “But I guess I have you to thank for that.” If he hadn’t come to the rescue, Command’s soldiers probably would have killed her and Malweh.
“I only did my job, Ensign.” He thought little else of it.
“I know,” she said. He would never take credit beyond it being his so-called responsibility, but she knew there weren’t many commanders who would have put themselves in harm’s way to rescue two engineers. “Still, thank you.” She’d been scared, but once again, she was lucky enough to walk away.
Callie was earnest. Sincere. That had always stuck out to him. Many of the crew were stiff and uncomfortable in his presence, but not her. Callie was simply what he assumed to be her usual self. It made him feel a little more welcome among the crew. Truly, though he would never outwardly admit it, he was glad to see her uninjured and unafraid. That said, there were dark rings under her eyes, rings that didn’t belong on a face so young. “Are you certain everything is alright, Ensign? You look tired.”
“Yeah,” she said, stretching a little. “Since repairs are behind, me and a few others skipped our rack time.”
Behind? “When did repairs fall behind?”
Callie furrowed her brows. “Last night.”
“Why was I not appraised?” They were getting ready to start their operation – an operation where timing was absolutely critical. In such action, his awareness of the ship’s condition was crucial. “What was the problem?”
“I don’t understand.” Why was he asking that?
“Why was I not informed of the issue?” he asked, holding a carefully neutral expression. Whatever had happened, it likely wasn’t Smith’s fault. “I should have been informed.”
“You weren’t informed because your orders caused the delay,” Ty said, stepping up behind Callie. Against his barrel of a chest, Smith seemed tiny.
“Pardon?” The only order Admiral Gives had given was to push as hard as possible on repairs while ensuring the engineers didn’t totally exhaust themselves. As much as he needed the ship fully repaired, he also knew he needed the crew rested and aware for combat.
Ty crossed his arms, a sheen of sweat shining on his face in the heat and humidity of the engine room. “I told you I was going to have to reassign crew from repairs and that would delay the hull work.” Ty had found it odd, but knew better than to question orders. “You said the central computer had to take priority.”
The computer? Usually that was the last thing restarted after repairs. It had to be done after the power grid was completely stabilized, meaning the grid had to be patched and tested first. The computer retained some operational capability as long as it had power, but lacked most of its processing ability and stored data until fully brought back online. The hull and armor, which helped protect the ship from further damage, had obvious repair priority.
“We’re only a couple hours behind,” Ty explained. “Luckily for you, Callie and a few others came in to work during what should have been their rest period.” Ty had needed the extra hands to conduct repairs, but he wasn’t happy to see his comrades forgoing needed rest.
“I gave specific instructions as to the priority of repairs, Chief.” The hull and armor went first. “External repairs were to be finished before we disembark.”
Ty shook his big head. “They won’t be. And you okayed that late last night when you told us to get the computer up and running.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did.” There had been a time where Ty never would have argued with the Admiral, but becoming the engineering chief had changed him. Manners be damned, he was in the right here and he knew it. “You told me last night that you needed some of the computer’s files. One of the yeomen pulled them early this morning.” Ty could only assume it had been important. “Dealing with the computer delayed us about six hours. Even with volunteers skipping rack time, we’re still three hours behind.”
“The central computer is last priority on repairs.” They’d been able to access everything they needed to plan the mission’s opening stage. Its condition beyond that had been mostly irrelevant.
“It was. Then you called to change that.”
Ty kept his tone mostly neutral, but there was a sharpness in his eyes, a frustration barely restrained. The Admiral understood his frustration because he had, in fact, not called to give those orders. “Chief, I cannot afford to delay this mission.” The fleet needed those supplies within the week or people would start going hungry, and they had a long distance to travel. “Hull repairs needed to be complete.”
Ty crossed his arms. “Yeah, well you should have thought of that before you told us to work on the damn computer.”
I never gave those orders. The Admiral was certain of little at the moment other than that. He had purposefully prioritized repairs. The power grid and computer could be worked on while at FTL, but the hull had to be done before they disembarked. Moreover, heading anywhere beyond a secluded region like this was risky without the hull and armor repaired. Any further damage would be compounded. But why would anyone on board alter the repair orders? To sabotage the hull work? Or to get the files that had been pulled? And how? How could anyone impersonate him thoroughly enough to succeed on a call to the ship’s chief engineer?
“Chief, when did you receive that call?” he asked.
Ty scratched the back of his head. “I suppose sometime after midnight, sir.”
Midnight? He’d been asleep. Had that been known? Or had it been a guess? “And what files were taken from the computer?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Ty said, now looking even more confused. “You’d have to ask the yeoman that grabbed them.”
“Were you alone when you received the call?”
Ty shook his head, brows furrowed. “No. Havermeyer was here. I took the call right over there.” He pointed to the handset mounted on the wall between the pipes. “Is there something wrong?”
‘You’re asking too many questions, Admiral.’
At that moment, the ghost’s interjection was unusual. But then, this entire situation was unusual. He kept his attention on Chief Ty. “Did you not think it was odd that I would call in the middle of the night to circumvent both my own written orders and our traditional operating procedure?”
The Chief gave a low grunt, “Well, sure. But we don’t know shit about what goes on aboard ship. We only know the ship. You don’t often explain.” The engineers did their best to follow orders without question. There was usually no time to explain the reasoning.
‘It was just a miscommunication,’ the ghost added. ‘You’re overreacting.’ Not everything was an attempt at mutiny or sabotage.
‘I don’t have miscommunications on my ship. Not about this.’ He was well versed in engineering. He wasn’t a ship commander that guessed on the correct course of action. No, he carefully planned maintenance and repair. He had the timings down to a science. “Thank you for your time, Chief. I will look into the matter.”
The ghost’s invisible presence sighed as he turned and left the engine room. ‘Weren’t you the one disapproving of pointless witch hunts yesterday?’
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
‘This is not a witch hunt.’ It was not a matter of fear or superstition. ‘This is a murder trial. Somebody messed with my ship, and that’s both mutiny and treason.’ As far as he cared, it was a crime of the highest degree.
‘Relax, won’t you?’ She could feel the storm of wrath gathering in his thoughts. ‘Nobody’s hurt. The ship will be just fine.’
Stalking past more pipes and humming machinery on his way out of the engineering spaces, the Admiral replied, ‘Forgiving the fact it was apparently done by my likeness, the operating capability of this ship was altered without my knowledge. Allowing that to go unaddressed is not only careless, but dangerous.’ Perhaps it wasn’t a very direct act of sabotage, but it was sabotage all the same. ‘Thousands of refugees are counting on this ship for food, supplies and protection. I would be neglecting my duties if I allowed anything to jeopardize her or this mission.’ Even something this slight had to be addressed, lest it prove to be a threat.
‘There’s no sense in telling you to leave it alone, then?’
Mid-step, he stopped. This entire situation had been odd since the beginning. No, more than odd, downright strange. But, perhaps the oddest of all was how lax the ghost had been. She’d shown no concern when something like this arguably should have concerned her more than him.
‘I’d tell you if something endangered the mission. You know that,’ she promised. He had better things to do with his time than worry about some minor event like this.
He looked up, narrowing his eyes. ‘Why don’t you want me to investigate?’
‘Do you remember that time the Marines wired a speaker with creepy voice recordings into the pilots’ ready room?’
Of course he remembered. ‘Their shoddy wiring job started a fire.’
‘A really small one,’ she huffed. ‘And you were ready to throw all of them in the brig for two months over a harmless prank until I talked you out of it.’ No one had been hurt. ‘This is kind of like that.’
He withheld a scowl. ‘I’d argue this is more severe than a prank.’ The intent of the prank had been clear and harmless. This incident left the ship in a weakened condition on the verge of a mission critical to thousands of lives.
‘It’s fine.’ Embarking without complete hull repairs was a risk, but even delayed, the repairs would likely be completed before they found a fight. ‘No one’s been hurt and that’s all that matters. The fleet will want an announcement before we leave. That will be a better use of your time.’ Communication to the fleet always dissolved into a shouting match of accusations if anyone other than him made the call.
‘No.’ That wasn’t a better use of his time. ‘Indirectly or not, somebody messed with my ship. And they impersonated me to do it.’ Not much got under his skin. He’d learned to tolerate all kinds of accusations and insults. But framing him as a traitor to his ship? That he couldn’t allow. ‘An example has to be made.’ Nobody messed with the Singularity and got away with it, especially hijacking his likeness to do it.
Determination surged through him, sharpened to a point. The ghost recognized there was no malice in it, but even justice could turn someone as loyal as him unforgiving.
‘Which files were taken from the central computer?’ Had anything critical been exposed?
‘I’m not going to answer that.’ She had already said this was nothing worse than a prank. He need not get involved.
Detouring from his path out, he turned back into the cramped, maze-like engineering spaces. He ducked easily under a few pipes, more than familiar with this part of the ship, and headed towards one of the coolant pumps. The tight path opened up in front of it, pipes bowing up and around the massive pump, as its throaty sound drowned out the regular noise of the engines.
It was secluded enough.
“You know I can run this investigation myself.” He didn’t technically need her help, though it would be beneficial. “I will find who is responsible.” And they would be held accountable however he saw fit.
“You can try,” the ghost countered, manifesting just outside his immediate line of sight. “But you will not succeed.” This investigation was a waste of his time.
“And why not?”
“Because you are the one that called Chief Ty. You were the one that countermanded the repair orders. And your authority codes were used to make copies of the central computer’s files.” Everything he found in that investigation would be traced straight back to him.
“That is not possible.” Sure, someone could falsify his voice, but the command codes? Certainly not. He’d given a solemn oath to protect those command codes until death, and he meant it. Even under torture, he had refused to surrender any of them, even those for tasks as mundane as authorizing file copies from the ship’s database.
“It’s plenty possible.” You idiot. He couldn’t see the answer was effectively right in front of him. “Now, stop overreacting-”
“Overreacting?” he lowered his tone. “How exactly am I overreacting? There is a potential threat aboard this ship that can not only mimic me, but apparently, according you, somehow has access to my command codes.” Those override codes virtually guaranteed control over every system on the ship: helm, navigations, weapons, hell, even life support. “Now, I’d argue that’s a pretty big problem. What I can not figure out is why you’re so unconcerned.” In fact, this attitude of hers was completely new to him. She often had some snark in her comments, but this was just genuinely unhelpful.
A potential threat, you say. “Is that what I am? A potential threat?”
He glared, instinctively stiffening his posture. “I was not talking about you.”
“Sure, you were.” She watched him prepare to protest again and cut him off. “You’re an idiot.” The man was arguably brilliant, but in this situation, he was a fool. It was both endearing and exhausting. “You’ve never surrendered even a digit of those command codes, Admiral.” They both knew that. “So how exactly do you think your codes ended up authorizing those file copies?”
“You seem to know, so why don’t you tell me,” he challenged. “I didn’t input them.”
“You didn’t have to.” True, authorization codes were required, but they didn’t necessarily need to be his. However, people didn’t ask questions when his name was on the orders, and that was easy to take advantage of. “You might be the only person on this ship that knows those codes, but in order to validate them, the ship itself also knows them.”
“So what?” No one would be able to pry those codes from the ship. There were dozens of security measures in place to prevent that.
The answer was obvious, he just trusted her too much to see it. “I have absolute control over this machine, Admiral. Everything it knows, I know.” Even the ship’s most protected data was at her call. “This so-called threat you’re looking for? It’s me.”
He stared at her pale face for a moment, slow to comprehend. Then, all of a sudden, it made too much sense. She had done this. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, shocked, then he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “No, never mind. I don’t care. Delaying those repairs for any reason was unacceptable, not to mention the fact that you completely disregarded my authority.”
“That’s not why you’re angry, though.” Anger was not his emotion. He didn’t regularly tend towards it. He’d never put much pride toward his rank or authority. So, she knew, standing with her back against the visible part of the pump, that her disregarding him wasn’t the issue at hand.
“Of course not.” No, he had a better reason to be pissed off. “You have jeopardized the entire ship.” Incomplete hull repairs altered the ship’s condition and tactical ability. If he hadn’t learned of the change, he could have ordered the wrong maneuver in combat and inadvertently allowed the ship to sustain severe damage. It could have been a disaster.
“Repairs are only a few hours behind.” Silently, she’d helped the crew along with the computer and power grid repairs. “I’d hardly call it a delay. They’ve nearly finished anyway.”
“Then let’s not mention the fact that I didn’t know about the orders I apparently gave.” He worked hard to present an organized and calm persona to the crew. This little ‘incident’ uprooted that with surprising effectiveness.
There was frustration in him, she realized. It was not anger, but a powerful frustration. It was as well-meaning as he ever was, tempered to protect his people. “Admiral, I made this choice. You have always told me that is my right.”
“That is your right.” He had to admit that. As a functioning and sentient mind, she had the right to make her own decisions. Even if this had come at an inopportune moment, it would be wrong to chastise her for exercising that right. “But, it is my job to ensure the safety and survival of this ship and her crew. I had hoped, if we were in disagreement, that you would talk to me.” He hated fighting. He knew exactly how painful harsh words could be, and this felt uncomfortably close to a fight, even if his frustration stemmed mostly from concern. Had he done something wrong? Was there a reason the ghost had not commented on the repair orders when they had first been given? “You could have come to me at any point when I weighed the options and gave my orders.”
Orders to protect your ship and crew, she knew. That unshakable loyalty of his had compelled him to give whatever orders he thought best for the ship and crew without other concerns. He was often single-minded in that regard. Repairs were important. That had never been in doubt, but sometimes other things were more important, and this trade had been worth it. Worth it to me, she thought, standing before this man who called her a friend.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose again, trying to ease the frustrations in his thoughts. “At least there isn’t a saboteur on board.” This situation was serious, but it wasn’t overtly dangerous. The ghost, whatever motive she may have had, cared for this crew. She would bring them no harm. “Will you at least tell me why?” Why would she take action like this instead of coming to him?
She had hoped to avoid this conversation. That was the entire reason she’d subverted his authority. She hadn’t feared a refusal, just wanted to avoid the conversation. Still, the ghost recognized that she’d made an error in judgement. Despite her best intentions, she had put him in a bad situation with the crew.
“I know you, Admiral,” she said softly. Others probably thought he was scary when he got that look in his eyes. His cold stoicism and tense posture often made him look ready for a fight, but she knew him better than that. “You would have regretted letting Amelia leave like that. You’ll deny it, but I know you care about her.” He was not the uncaring persona that he presented to the worlds. “Yet, I also know you will prioritize your ship above everything. That’s who you are.” His loyalty defined him when all else failed. “But, that is not all you are.” He had a life outside his duties. Even if he kept pushing them away, he had a family, he had desires, and she hoped he would have a future beyond this chaos.
Late last night, one of the yeomen had relayed a request from Amelia. She had wanted educational supplies: teaching materials and encyclopedias, the likes of which a ship like the Badger wouldn’t have access to. As he did with all things, the Admiral had weighed it with respect to his duties.
To get that information for Amelia meant jeopardizing the order of repairs. And even knowing that Amelia would read the refusal as personal and resent him, he still couldn’t justify it. Acknowledging that Amelia may never forgive him, even if he gave her those files at a later time, the risk to repairs still wasn’t worth it. Not to him.
But the ghost’s telepathy had seen something else in his thoughts. Not doubt, or even regret. Something sadder and darker. Acceptance. As he had sorted that request into the proper spot on his desk for reviewal at a later time, he had accepted that Amelia was going to hate him and that his own family would never want anything to do with him. He accepted that as the price of doing his job, the price of his loyalty.
And in that moment, the ghost could only remember all the other acceptances she’d once been too blind to recognize – the ones that seemed too obvious now. And then, of all the things, she had remembered his trust. He trusted her, without thought, without reason: unbreakable trust. Unstable and malfunctioning, still somehow, she had earned that. I want to be worthy. She desperately wanted to be worthy of that trust. But she wasn’t. She was a damaged weapon of war that cursed everything she touched.
But, last night, she had seen a choice, a chance to be worthy, even if only for a moment. “I impersonated you to give that order.” It had been easy. This voice of hers was just a database of pre-recorded sounds. Technically, it wasn’t hers. She was a machine and she possessed none of her own. But she did have the complete logs and recordings of everything that had happened aboard this ship – every transmission, every communication, every order. It was plenty enough to string together a new voice – his. And it was indistinguishable from the real thing, especially coupled with her telepathy. In all manner except reality, Admiral Gives had given Chief Ty an order to alter the repair priorities. “You were too loyal to me to help Amelia,” the ghost said, “so I did it for you.”
Maybe it had been right, maybe it had been wrong, but she would not make him choose between his ship and every other aspect of his life. He deserved better than that. “The data she asked for is on a remote data drive. She took it with her to the Badger this morning. I imagine she’ll use it to start teaching again.”
He took in the ghost’s sincere eyes. They were kind. He rarely found her to be anything but kind. Yet, now, as it too often was, it was the sacrificial kindness of a machine built to save everyone but herself. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t have to. I chose to.” She was used to being a passenger in most matters. She didn’t make decisions. She didn’t argue points. For most of her existence, she had been silent support. But she saw what the Admiral went through. She recognized how hard he worked, and she could feel his pain, however hard he tried to numb it. “I made you a promise.”
He wanted to give her a righteous lecture on recklessness. But, he couldn’t. None of the words would come to him. Instead, he allowed a small, but honest, “Thank you.”
The storms in his eyes had cleared. This gesture meant something incredible to him, and that loyalty of his had never been stronger. “You are welcome.” He was welcome to anything and everything she could offer him.
The moment sat between them for a time, but as it always did, responsibility nagged him. He needed to finish the rounds now that this mystery was resolved. “Next time, keep me appraised when you’re going to do something stupid.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m the one going to do something stupid?” Yeah, right. “You’re the idiot.”