Mississippi Sector, Warhawk 911
The small black reconnaissance ship emerged from subspace in a small flash of rainbow light. Alone amidst the Mississippi Sector’s scattering of dark planets, it was quiet. There was no sign of civilization. Like Jazmine and Gaffigan before him, Admiral Gives would have to fly through the drifting planetary bodies. The constant, random drift of the dark planets prevented ships from coming out of FTL at any point within the cluster, as they had no way to know if they would be jumping too deep into a planet’s gravity well to escape, or if they would meet a quicker end by emerging directly within a planet’s mass. Either way, it was likely to result in certain death.
The Jayhawker had been proud to use that natural environment to his advantage, as it meant no ship could approach Midwest Station using FTL travel. Now, drones had been stationed throughout the sector to watch ships as they approached at relativistic speeds. If any were deemed hostile, the station had plenty of time to rally a defense or simply evacuate.
Loathe as the Admiral was to admit it, the Jayhawker had a right to be proud. Hidden away amongst these dark planets, Midwest Station had escaped the notice of Command and relegated to a mere rumor amongst most of the fleet’s personnel. There were people that knew, of course. There were always people that knew, but the Jayhawker and Midwest Station had bought their silence with service. Hub to the black markets and underworld, there was nothing that could not be acquired at Midwest Station. While the Jayhawker refused to deal with Command or the military subsidiaries of the centralized government, various national governments had worked out extremely lucrative deals to get their hands on technology and weapons that had been legally banned. In exchange for that, they happily turned a blind eye to the existence of Midwest Station.
Admiral Gives himself had ignored the station for his own reasons. There had been many corrupt ship commanders in the fleet, loyal to every cause except the one they were sworn to serve. It was easy to be corrupt, far easier than remaining on the straight and narrow, because while commanding a battleship was an envious position, it was also a very lonely one. It required a certain… distance. A distance from the men and women crewing the ship – those that lived and died on orders – but also a distance from the worlds they sailed between. The longer one spent in command, the greater that distance became, and the harder it was to resist the vices and comforts of simpler times, be it drugs, violence, or some other coping mechanism.
Still, the one thing Admiral Gives had never been was corrupt. He had spent his career at odds with Command, yet had never sworn an oath of loyalty directly to Command. He had allowed the supply crews to smuggle goods aboard ship, but he had never taken a bribe. He had obscured the fate of the people Command sent him to kill, but he had never allowed a true criminal to escape justice with one notable exception: Nathan Gadwood – the man that became known as the Jayhawker.
Someone else might have been frustrated by that. Someone else might have held a grudge. But, it wasn’t personal. The Jayhawker probably wanted it to be personal, but it was not. As far as the Admiral cared, it was a simple fact. His mistake had allowed Nathan Gadwood the freedom to build an empire in the underworld.
Engaging the Warhawk’s sub-light engines, he guided the small ship onto the route that would take him to the station. It had been years since he had made this trip, but considering the conditions of his prior visit, it remained sharp in his memory.
He flew steadily through this dark sector. The colorful buttons and switches of the Warhawk were not much comfort. By design, they gave him enough light to see what he was doing, but failed to brighten the endless darkness that yawned out before him, blotted with the hazy spheres of the dark planets.
By the time he reached the cluster of black spheres that shielded Midwest Station, many of the station’s other clientele had scattered. Only a handful of ships remained docked along the station’s main length. The station’s mottled gray endcap was entirely empty, save the small gray transport that Gaffigan and Jazmine had flown in on. It was easy to recognize with the purple and yellow lightning bolt painted on its hull, so Admiral Gives disengaged the main engines of his own craft and used the maneuvering thrusters to glide into alignment with the neighboring airlock.
He met no challenge on approach, and the airlock clunked into position just over two hours after he’d left the Singularity. He made certain to note the time. Forty-six minutes. That should be more than enough time to make the Jayhawker tip his hand.
Unbuckling, he climbed out of the pilot’s seat and opened his side of the airlock, fully expecting to find the muzzle of a waiting gun. Instead, he found a beautiful blonde woman whose lips were adorned with perfect red lipstick. She had matured since he’d last seen her, but he still recognized her face beneath all that makeup. Cinderella. She had come to share the same cocky smirk as her father.
“You know,” she smiled, “I didn’t think you’d really come.”
He didn’t dignify that with a response as he crossed through the station’s airlock.
She looked him over, both pleased and surprised to find that he had no gun holster on his belt. “You’re unarmed?”
“As instructed,” he confirmed.
“No knives?”
“One.” The small one he kept between his wrist and his watch, “But I would consider it a tool rather than a weapon.”
She stared at him for a moment, contemplating if it was worth confiscating, but eventually just laughed, a soft ladylike sound. “I doubt a small knife is going to get you out of here, so what’s the harm?” Her father had several dozen security guards throughout the station. If he could use a small knife to take all of them down and escape, then chances were he could do it empty-handed. “You were reckless to come here, Admiral. My father was right about you.” Powerful as he was, he had one weakness: his crew. But, she supposed that wasn’t her business. “Care to escort a lady as you walk to your death?”
Admiral Gives calmly folded his hands behind his back. “Considering the poisoned blade hidden in your hand, respectfully, I will pass.” He might be reckless, but he was not actively trying to die.
The smile fell off Cinderella’s red lips. With a twirl, the assassin sheathed the knife back into the ruffled sleeve of her evening dress. “You’re just as drab as I remember you.” Usually, the military types were all too eager to escort a pretty woman. She’d killed many marks that way. They were usually too distracted to feel the knife. “Follow me.”
Their walk through the station’s mismatched hallways was short. In this part of the station, the hallways were so plain they could have belonged to any industrial building. They lacked decoration, style, or even the obvious structural supports common to other space structures. When they reached the stationmaster’s office, a suited bodyguard opened up the door and Cinderella marched him inside.
The Jayhawker’s office was lavish. Round lights made from blown glass hung from the ceiling at different heights, giving off a warm light reminiscent of floating paper lanterns. Large paintings hung on the wall in ornate golden frames, and below them, shelves and display cases lined the walls, filled with trophies from the Jayhawker’s escapades. The air was perfumed, rich with the smell of an artificial forest, a luxury for wealthy spacefarers who tired of tasting the same recycled air day in and day out.
Lounging on the sleek blue couch that curved in a half circle around the coffee table, the Jayhawker relished this moment. “The Steel Prince himself. It is rare to see you step off the decks of your demon. Many had wondered if you were still capable.”
Gaffigan and Jazmine sat across from him on the couch, backs to the door, but they turned to greet the Admiral with a stiff, “Sir.”
The stationmaster found snide entertainment in the formality as he sipped dark liquor from an etched crystal glass. “Such well trained dogs you have here, Admiral.”
The Admiral paid only enough attention to the Lieutenants to see that they were unharmed. He kept his focus on the Jayhawker as Cinderella moved to stand behind her father. “You wanted me to come alone, Mister Gadwood. I have. Let my men go.”
The Jayhawker laughed a bit and casually swirled his glass. “Did you really expect me to do that?” That was foolishness. “With you, Admiral, I can never have too much insurance. I know you’ll find a way to win if it’s just your life at stake. But if it’s theirs…” he pointed to Monty and Jazz, “You won’t risk it.”
The Admiral raised an eyebrow. How presumptuous. He was a battleship commander. When it came to the lives of his crew, he did everything he could to protect them, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had men die on a mission. The coordinates for Crimson Heart’s base were absolutely critical. Without them, the mission to gather supplies for the refugees in the Polaris Sector would fail. Gaffigan and Jazmine knew that, just as they knew life and death came with the job. “So be it, Mister Gadwood. What are your intentions?”
The Jayhawker took another long, tasteful sip of his drink as he studied his opponent. In the years since their last meeting, the Admiral’s hair had grayed a little more, but otherwise, he looked just as the stationmaster remembered him. “You know what I’m after.” The same thing the Admiral had cheated him out of all those years ago. “I want your ship.”
“There are eight hundred crewmen aboard my ship-”
“And they will have a place here,” the Jayhawker cut him off. “You hand me the Singularity and I will turn Midwest Station over to your crew, along with all of its associated transports.” The Jayhawker leveled his gaze. “That’s a fleet, Admiral, not to mention a hideout that Command will never find.” Leaning forward, he set his glass onto the table in front of him. “Not a bad deal if your goal is to keep your crew alive.” They would be safe here. “I can offer all of them employment in my organization. They would be protected, fed, and paid generously. I can see they are brave men and women, and they all possess useful skills.”
After rebelling from Command, joining the underworld was the only chance the crew would ever have of regaining a normal life. That was the only way to leave the ship and avoid imprisonment, and in the underworld, the Jayhawker was a powerful man. He would protect them as long as they made themselves useful. For the crew, it wasn’t a bad deal. That much was true.
“And, I’m not unreasonable, Admiral,” the stationmaster continued. “I know you have an urgent objective with Crimson Heart. I’m willing to let you take those coordinates and finish your mission. However, Gaffigan and Jazmine will remain here as insurance. It’s clear enough you won’t abandon them.” The fact he’d come to negotiate at all proved that. “But, when it’s all said and done, I want your ship.”
“Do you realize Command intends to hunt the Singularity to the end of the known worlds?”
“They will,” the stationmaster admitted, “unless I turn over something they want even more.” These worlds operated on barters and trades. Command was no exception to that. “I expect they would ignore the existence of an old dreadnaught if I handed over their traitor. Hell, they might even call it my reward for your bounty, provided I keep her out of the public eye.”
The Jayhawker was a greedy, greedy man. His aspirations knew no limitations, not even reason. “I expect you would consider us even, then,” the Admiral said.
“Yes,” the Jayhawker agreed. He would happily accept that outcome. “We both know this is a good deal for your crew, and as much as you act uncaring, I know they are your weakness. You proved that to me thirteen years ago. It’s the only reason I have this.”
Reaching past the collar of his blue jacket, the stationmaster fished out the leather lanyard hanging around his neck, its length worn soft and warm. A small key was tied to its end, and he stopped to admire it for a moment before he flicked it to the Admiral. “It never amounted to what I hoped it would, but it was always my favorite trophy.” It wasn’t as valuable as the genuine Hydrian spear he kept locked in a lit display case, but that little key was still his favorite. He supposed he merely loved what it represented: a victory. A victory won over the great Steel Prince aboard the decks of his own ship.
The Admiral ran his fingers along the bitting of the key, the notches and teeth familiar to him. Its coloring was familiar too, cast from the same dark grey metals as its ship of origin. “I had wondered if you would destroy this key, given that it amounted to nothing more than a souvenir.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Now, why would I destroy something that would cripple my greatest prize?” The Jayhawker turned to the Admiral’s men, noting their confused expressions. “I suppose you gentlemen may not recognize that for what it is.” After all, it was outside their specialties. “That is an FTL Key. The Singularity’s FTL Key, to be precise. It’s a critical piece of equipment required to be used before a ship can activate her FTL drives. They were standard issue in the fleet during the Hydrian War and Frontier Rebellion. If a ship is taken, the Key is supposed to be destroyed, which will prevent a ship from being used against its masters.”
I know what an FTL Key is, asshole,” Monty snapped. “But the Singularity doesn’t use one, you naddlethworfing idiot.”
The Jayhawker hummed and leaned back into the dark blue upholstery of his couch. “That’s interesting isn’t it, Admiral?” Unsurprisingly, the man did not answer. “I spent a good deal of time on your ship once. After befriending the crew, I even managed to get my hands on some of the technical manuals kept in the library.” And those had proven very interesting. “Turns out, the Singularity was a unique case. She possessed not one, but two FTL Keys and both were required for FTL activation. Stealing just one should have stranded her at sub-light speeds. And yet, it didn’t. Now, the crew isn’t even aware that the ship possesses an FTL locking mechanism.” How strange. “It seems someone has spent a great deal of time obscuring the truth.”
The Jayhawker studied the Admiral’s subordinates as they sat side by side on the couch. “You see, gentlemen, my daughter and I lied our way onto the Singularity thirteen years ago. I made myself welcome amongst the crew, and learned what I needed to about the ship’s systems.” They had been wonderfully trusting of a downtrodden scavenger struggling to take care of his only daughter. “I then used that knowledge to sabotage the ship’s life support.” He smiled at the memory. “I used the ship’s air recyclers to poison the crew.” A fine poisonous powder, the toxin had been quick to incapacitate, but slow to kill.
“We saw nothing but paralyzed, dying people on our way to the bridge.” The crew hadn’t realized the danger until it was far too late. “No one suspected us, except you.” He glared at the Admiral. “You we found on the bridge, sword in hand, emergency respirator in place. The only member of the entire crew to escape exposure, you had already put the ship’s systems into lockdown by the time we got there.” Singlehandedly, the Admiral had ruined a genius plan to seize the ship.
The Jayhawker sighed at the memory, disappointed, and returned his attention to Jazmine and Gaffigan. “I had to make a deal with the Admiral. He used the Singularity to tow Midwest Station into its current position, then wiped the navigational data from the records in exchange for the poison’s antidote. Then, while he was busy trying to save the crew, I stole one of the ship’s FTL Keys and fled.” At the time, it had seemed a necessary risk.
“It was my intention to strand the ship at sub-light and gather the numbers I needed to take her by force while the crew was still weak.” Such a feat would have made him the most successful pirate to ever live. “And yet, by the time I had set up my raid, the Singularity was already gone.”
The Jayhawker could remember the awe and confusion of that realization. “It should have been impossible to jump without the FTL Key, and yet, the Singularity moved on like the entire incident never happened,” which only made him more eager to possess the ship. He wanted to understand the nature of that miracle. “I lived in fear for years. I thought any day the great Steel Prince would bring the full force of the fleet down upon me. And then I realized it: that key. That stupid useless key had saved me.”
The Jayhawker let loose a laugh and brushed back his long, wavy brown hair. “You couldn’t come after me because of that key, because if you did, you would have to admit that it existed and that your ship had made an impossible jump to get out of the Mississippi Sector before my raid arrived.” That realization had been freeing. No longer had he been forced to live in fear. “Your crewmen just proved it, Admiral. You’ve been hiding the fact that key was missing for thirteen years. You buried the evidence that it even existed in the first place, and somehow, you got away with it, even if it defies all logic.”
He talks too much, the Admiral thought. The Jayhawker had exposed the past, but he hadn’t tipped his hand. The order to disable the FTL drives would only be valid for thirty more minutes. “You want my ship,” he acknowledged. “But I fail to see why you should want to own the most wanted ship in the worlds.” That would make him a target.
“A battleship can do everything Midwest Station does on a mobile basis, not to mention is armed to defend itself. Any battleship could suit that purpose, I suppose, but yours, well she is something truly special. She would grant me the fear and respect of every world the Night Demon scarred.” That reputation was useful for someone like him. “And she may not be new or fancy, your secession from Command has made the Singularity’s value skyrocket.”
It was insane to think such an old machine could still be worth so much politically and financially. “In case you forgot, you implemented the Strike Zero override on public comms. Every one of humanity’s worlds knows that Command’s overrides will no longer function on the Singularity, meaning the man who holds the ship’s authority codes is the only man in the worlds that can control her. And a weapon like that… well, you, more than anyone, know what she’s capable of.”
A layer of frost took root in the Admiral’s tone, “My ship is not some item to be traded on a whim, Mister Gadwood.” That was enough of this conversation. It was time to discuss a more realistic trade. “I will not offer you my ship, but I will offer her services,” and you would be wise to accept them. “In exchange for my crewmen and those coordinates, the Singularity will run a mission for you.”
The Jayhawker laughed loud enough to tense some of the bodyguards in the room. “A mission?” He rose to his feet and smoothed his white pants down. “Why, in all the cosmos, would I trust you to run a mission for me?”
“I never said I would do it,” the Admiral corrected. “I will stay here as your insurance. Let the Lieutenants return to the ship with your instructions. My second in command will handle it.”
“So instead of having your ship, I get to borrow it for one pathetic mission? That’s your offer?”
“Yes,” the Admiral answered. “And I would suggest you take it.”
The Jayhawker looked him over, annoyed by that calm. “Fine.” He stepped over to grab a sheet of paper off a desk stacked with rare books. Then he grabbed the subspace transmitter left on the table and handed them both to the Admiral. “You and the Lieutenants stay here. This little favor won’t take long. I want the Singularity to jump to that location and scare off some scavengers. They’re climbing over a rather desirable piece of wreckage.” He met the Admiral’s eyes, “Is that a deal?”
The Admiral nodded once then activated the communicator, “Base, this is the Admiral. Come in.”
The reply was almost instant. “Base here, Admiral. Is everything alright?”
The communications officer sounded dreadfully worried, and Admiral Gives knew Robinson wasn’t the only one he’d worried in leaving so suddenly, but he’d had his reasons. “Everything is fine, Lieutenant. Patch me through to the Colonel.”
“Already here,” came the voice of Colonel Zarrey. “What do you need?” Anxiety tightened his usually lax demeanor. They often dealt with high-pressure situations on the ship, but it wasn’t often that the Admiral wasn’t with them.
Holding the paper up to the light, Admiral Gives studied the coordinates printed there. They were standard galactic coordinates not far from here, if he recalled correctly, but he didn’t recognize them. No further information was provided on the paper. “Proceed to the following coordinates and clear the area of all ships and personnel.” He read off the coordinates from the paper and confirmed them when the Colonel read them back.
“What about your other order, sir?” They’d been ordered to disconnect the FTL drives for three hours. There was still nearly a half an hour left on that time limit.
“It stands,” the Admiral said.
“Aye. Base out,” came the unenthusiastic response.
Admiral Gives handed the communicator back, and the stationmaster only sighed. “I had a feeling it would turn out this way. I knew you’d never hand your ship over to me.” Calmly, the stationmaster took his crystal glass and pulled a bottle off the table he’d set up as a bar, refilling it. “It’s unfortunate, but it paid to have those coordinates ready.”
Why was that unfortunate? The Admiral considered it a fair deal. “Where did you send my ship, Mister Gadwood?”
A little smirk pulled on the stationmaster’s lips. “The Tormenta Sector.” A sector known for its magnetic storms – storms powerful enough to rip apart solid samples of the strongest materials known to man. “The poor Singularity doesn’t stand a chance. It’s unfortunate, but if you won’t hand her to me, then I won’t chance my rivals seizing her either. Her bounty will simply have to do, as will yours.” The reward money would be more than enough to expand his private armada. “You just ordered your ship to jump to certain death.” Still, the Admiral and his crew just stared at him, distinctly unimpressed.
“You’re an idiot,” Monty said. “They’re going to run safety checks on those coordinates.”
“They might,” the stationmaster allowed. “But I think, desperate to save their comrades, they’ll attempt it. After all, sometimes there are gaps in the storms of the Tormenta Sector. According to the cortex, there’s one there. But, of course, I paid that scout to log it.” It was easy to dispose of ships by sending them there. Even when they mistrusted his coordinates and cross-referenced them, the cortex declared them safe, so they confidently jumped to their deaths. The Singularity would be no different.
The Jayhawker watched the color fade from Gaffigan’s face as he realized the severity of the situation. Beside him, Jazmine also looked faint, horrified perhaps. But still, the Admiral’s expression was unchanged, his blue gaze calm and cold. “Don’t bother begging me for this transmitter, Admiral,” he said, patting the little device. “By now, it’s probably too late.”
“Well, the Admiral said, “that is unfortunate.” He stepped over to the bar, but made no move for the transmitter. “Mind if I have a drink?”
The Jayhawker glanced between the Admiral’s calm and the utter horror on the Lieutenants’ faces. The juxtaposition was amusing. “Go ahead,” he told the man. “I won’t deny a man his final request.”
Good. Admiral Gives reached out and took hold of one of the bottles. A dark liquid churned in the bottom, so he uncorked it only to be greeted with the flowery smell of bourbon. No. He recorked that bottle and picked up the nearly-empty one next to it. This time, when he pulled the cork off, the scent of vanilla rose from the bottle. Rum, he recognized it. This will do. He swirled the bottle, estimating that about two shots remained. It would be enough to take the edge off, so he raised the bottle and downed it.
Setting the empty bottle down, he turned to see the Jayhawker staring at him, equal parts perplexed and surprised. “This is never easy.” Feeling the warm burn of the rum settle in, the Admiral sighed. “I suppose I should call for reinforcements now.” The Jayhawker had finally tipped his hand with the jump to the Tormenta Sector. “A shame, Mister Gadwood. I had hoped to get out of this with your sanity intact.”
“My sanity?” the Jayhawker said, taking a step back as he felt a sudden, strangely menacing shift in the Admiral’s demeanor. “You have no reinforcements here. You’re mad.”
Mad. The Admiral considered it. Perhaps I am. It hadn’t been very rational to fly off alone and surrender himself for two crewmen he knew wouldn’t be released. It wasn’t very logical to walk into this room completely unarmed, accompanied by an assassin while half a dozen bodyguards stood nearby. It didn’t make much sense to calmly order his ship to jump into the deadly Tormenta Sector. But then, he’d never claimed to be sane. “Thank you for handing me this key. It would have been difficult to find on my own.” Lit display cases lined the walls, filled with the Jayhawker’s finest treasures. Something as small as this would have been lost among them.
His calm never falters, the Jayhawker realized. That had been true thirteen years ago, and it was true now. It had been irritating, but now it was slipping toward unnerving. A sane person should have been upset to be beaten like this. He should have been scared to be facing death, but he was still as stone. His posture didn’t shift, his hands didn’t twitch. His stormy gaze rested upon the Jayhawker with unerring composure.
“Some part of you realized it when you found me that day, Mister Gadwood.” The last man standing of a crew nearly a thousand strong. The rest had been passed out on the floor, slowly dying. “You knew there was something wrong, and you so proudly proved it with that FTL Key.” Usually, Admiral Gives tried to hide that, but this was an exception. The Jayhawker simply wasn’t worth maintaining the illusion.
“Some part of you probably felt it the moment you set foot aboard her decks, but there is no way you didn’t feel it as you forced her to poison her own crew.” Gadwood’s mind had blocked it out, but those memories were in there somewhere. “She was angry.” Beyond angry. The antidote had been the only reason he left alive. “You see, Mister Gadwood, that rumor about the Demon?” About the Bloody Singularity being a cursed ship? “It’s not entirely false.”
The Jayhawker wanted to laugh. He did. He so badly wanted to laugh, but a horrible darkness had taken root in the Admiral’s presence. One that didn’t feel entirely human. It leeched into the air, stealing warmth and life from the room. Even his subordinates were starting to pale.
“And, it turns out, if you know what you are doing, it is not that hard to summon a demon.”
A cold, cold malice had taken over the Admiral’s gaze. Pinned beneath that look, the Jayhawker found it hard to swallow. “You’ve gone insane.” The rumors were true. They were all true. Deep space had driven him mad.
“No,” the Admiral corrected, “I have come to do my job.” He’d come to bring two wayward crewmen home and finish the mission by any means necessary. It wasn’t his fault the Jayhawker had made the situation personal. “You never should have brought me here, Mister Gadwood.” Getting aboard this station had been all too easy.
“There’s no demon,” the Jayhawker breathed, “It’s a ship.”
“My ship.”
The Singularity had no way to track him. “You don’t have a transponder.” His transport had been scanned for such devices.
“A demon does not need one.” Admiral Gives felt no pity for this fool. He closed his fist around the key, feeling the metal begin to warm. “The only thing a demon requires is someone willing to summon it.” An idiot willing to bind their fate and make a pact.
The Jayhawker stared at the intent in his expression, cold and cruel. “It’s a rumor.” The rumor that the Prince had bound a demon to his flesh was just some unsavory whisper in the night. That couldn’t possibly be true.
With his sociopathic tendencies, Admiral Gives tended not to hold grudges, but oh did he savor the Jayhawker’s terror. “I was never the one you should have feared, Mister Gadwood.” Clearing his thoughts, he focused on the presence that lingered in the back of his mind. ‘Now.’ His attention never faltered from the stationmaster as he felt that presence heighten, clamping down and drawing itself in. The sensation was uncanny, if not unnatural, but it hardly bothered him. No, he found that looming power familiar and comforting as it slid invisibly alongside him. “She they call the Night Demon,” such a strange name, one of many she’d earned, “I invoke your wrath.”