Homebound Sector, Haven System, Flagship Olympia
Disheveled and rain-drenched, Colonel VanHubert’s clothes dripped onto the hand-woven carpet as Reeter circled him like a vulture. “Let me get this straight,” Reeter said, “You found her and then an active bystander promptly forced you to release her?” It was rare enough to find an active bystander these days, let alone one in the middle of an abandoned shipyard. Most people just went about their own business, uncaring of others.
VanHubert swallowed, but carefully maintained his posture at attention. “Yes, sir.”
“She is a single woman with a seven-year-old son. How hard can it be to find and contain her properly?” Reeter clenched and unclenched his fist, debating whether or not to punch his second in command.
“We were interrupted, sir,” the Colonel said, all too used to Reeter’s physical threats. “A local intervened.” This was the fourth time he had repeated the same sentence in a different way, hoping this time that it would please his superior.
“The dominant demographic of the region is lower-class farmers.” Idiots with pitchforks and tractors. “Are you telling me a mud-blooded farmer was able to halt five highly trained Marines in their tracks and send them back to me with their tails between their legs?”
“It seems being difficult is in the national culture of Kansa, sir.”
Admiral Reeter struck fast, a jab straight to the Colonel’s gut. It was not a regulation punishment and Reeter did not care. “Do not bring him into this,” he snarled.
VanHubert coughed violently as he doubled-over, trying to breathe as he struggled to remain standing. “The Fleet Admiral isn’t the only difficult Kansan we know, sir. I seem to recall a soldier going AWOL about eight months ago from this very ship… He shared the same muddy heritage.” It seemed Kansa sprouted murderers and traitors alike.
Reeter grabbed VanHubert’s collar and hauled him forcibly back to eye level. “The Sergeant?”
“Maybe,” VanHubert coughed, “I didn’t see his face, but three of my men agreed it sounded just like him.”
When he got this angry, there was an ugly twitch in Reeter’s right eye. It was throbbing obviously now. He shoved VanHubert back, “Go contain Amelia to that moldy cabin where she has chosen to hide. And if the Sergeant reappears, arrest him for desertion of a military post. I’ll be down to visit the surface tomorrow.”
Reeter smoothed out his uniform, uncaring to hear VanHubert’s wheezing continue in his presence. “You are dismissed,” he said, walking back to his desk.
“Yes, sir.” VanHubert saluted properly and left.
Sitting down, Reeter activated the holo-projector on his desk. He regarded the instantaneous reports of the Olympia’s systems with moderate disinterest. The ship’s computers were so advanced, the Olympia practically ran herself. He could not imagine the nightmarish workload that came from running a ship that was not so wonderfully modern. He simply did not have the required attention span for such misery.
“Charleston,” she did not bother to announce her presence, appearing suddenly on the other side of his desk, “The Macaw has reported in.”
“And?”
“It’s gone.” She hardened her piercing gaze. “The Singularity is gone.”
“Order them to look again,” Reeter said without looking up from the ship’s status.
“They have located impact debris, but the ship itself is gone.” It was not in pieces. It was just gone.
“The Macaw is to track them down and sink them. They were hit, so they’re hurt. It should not prove a challenge.” He glared at his white-haired accomplice, challenging her to protest.
“There is nothing to trace. No hyperspace trail, and no propulsion wake. Nothing.” And that could only mean one thing. “He jumped. And that means they could be anywhere.” With nothing to trace, they stood no chance of finding the Singularity. It would be harder than locating a single water droplet in the ocean.
“If he jumped, it means subspace probably spat them out a contorted wreck in some more remote corner of space. Fine by me.”
Reeter was so perfectly unconcerned. There was something in her that was telling her, no warning her that Reeter would not take the Singularity’s threat seriously until Admiral Gives had a gun against his head, a finger press away from ending everything Reeter was once again.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“I will never understand your obsession with that ship,” Reeter told her, now flicking through some news articles as they were projected into the air, “it is ill equipped to do anything but be an over-sized roadblock.” The Singularity had grown old, and her once-fearsome armament was not the almighty force it once had been. The worlds had simply outdone her.
“That ship is the reason I have to partner with someone like you.” It was the reason she was not currently controlling every thought, every action in these worlds. “It is the only thing that has ever directly resisted my control.” It was the reason her memories and her power had become fragmented. It had left her weak.
Reeter chuckled. She seemed almost bitter. “You implement control via electrical impulses. Brains and networked machines have electrical controls, allowing you to take over. But the Singularity does not have an electrical control network, just a power grid. It was immune to you merely because it was not advanced enough.”
This was one of the rare moments in which she saw Reeter’s true intelligence. He had been paying attention to how she implemented control over her hosts, not to mention had done some reading on how the Singularity operated.
“Tell me,” Reeter said, “since you have collected so much data on the Prince, where would he have taken that flying scrap heap of his?”
“That is unknown.” There was no way to predict that, no matter how much data she had. He very well could have ordered a blind jump, and let the navigations systems randomize it.
“Then what are the odds that the Singularity sank?” Reeter knew she could calculate those odds, if nothing else.
“Assuming the nuke was at least a near-direct hit, roughly eighty-nine percent.” A jump to subspace would have put unforgivable stresses on the weakened structure. “With probable structural collapse, the resulting decompressions and the radiation, it is unlikely any of the crew have survived to this point. Those that remain, if there are any, will likely be stranded in the void until either food, water or oxygen runs out.” They would die a slow painful death.
“Sounds like the situation is contained to me,” Reeter said. Dead was dead. He did not care how or why.
“There remains a five percent chance that the ship survived in reparable condition, Charleston. Where the Steel Prince is concerned, those odds should not be taken lightly.” She knew all too well that the Fleet Admiral had habit of upturning them. It had proved to be quite… annoying.
It seemed to Reeter that they were back to having that same old argument again. She wanted him to fear the Fleet Admiral, but he refused. “I disregard him, because he has never given me a reason not to disregard him, princess.”
Reeter had been planning this operation for years, and if the Prince had truly been the legend everyone feared, then he would have put a stop to it then. Instead, once Reeter had started taking power, the Prince had stood by and watched. Actually, he’d done less than stand by and watch, he had retreated to the edges of known space, taking on useless patrols for months at a time. “The great Steel Prince never confronted me, nor did he demonstrate any desire to do so. I simply hated him because he was a failure, and I eliminated him because it was the right thing to do.” The worlds were now free of a great menace.
She frowned. Reeter and Gives were far too similar for Reeter to disregard him in that way. By all rights, Admiral Gives had been Reeter’s exact predecessor. Historically, Admiral Gives had stood on the cusp of everything Reeter was trying to accomplish nearly thirty years ago.
The Frontier had been on its knees, dying, and Admiral Gives could have ended everything right then. He could have cut the cancer that plagued the worlds free. The future of humanity had been in his hands. But, for a reason that no one else understood, he had stopped, just stopped and turned away. He offered no explanation then or ever, and his refusal to end the Frontier’s malignant existence had condemned all of the worlds to years of darkness and strife.
Still, the Admirals had their differences. Reeter was loyal to nothing but his so-called destiny. Admiral Gives was loyal to his ship, and to that alone. “You neglect the rumors, Charleston. They say as long as the Singularity survives, the Prince will be with her.” The two were almost symbiotic, suffering and thriving as a unit. It could be said that the two had not truly ever been apart since the day Admiral Gives had taken command, twenty-seven years ago.
“I neglect the superstitions of a traumatized Frontier people,” Reeter corrected, “as should you.” Rumors of demons and spirits had no place among the worlds. “We live in a scientific universe.” Black magic did not exist. True believers in spirits and religion were few and far between, but people said strange things when they got scared and that was all those rumors were. It was just the broken logic of terrified people.
“The odds may be in your favor, Charleston,” she allowed, conceding this argument, “but it would benefit you to exercise caution.”
“If it pleases you, creature, know that I have a contingency plan, and it involves little Miss Amelia.” He had carefully plotted his moves from the beginning.
This was the first she had heard of such a thing, but it was not surprising to find that he had kept some of his plans from her. After all, she had not revealed her true intentions to him. With a smile she said, “I shall leave it in your hands.”
“I’m sure, creature.” Reeter muttered as she disappeared. She was a secretive beast. He had no idea what she did when she was not working with him. Truthfully, he did not care to learn. Controlling her was not his responsibility. As long as he got what he wanted, she could have whatever she desired, including those planets and people he deemed unworthy.
Admiral Reeter resumed flicking through the news articles colorfully projected into the air in front of him. They hailed him as a hero, and the worlds were more than willing to lend themselves into his care. They were scared by the loss of the government’s President, Vice President and Secretary of Defense. But, naturally, that had all been carefully plotted and calculated.
Everything was falling perfectly into place. The worlds were being drawn slowly and steadily towards him – moths to the flame.