Blood Impulse

Part 25.2 - HISTORY

Polaris Sector, CT Badger

The Polaris Sector contained mostly ice, void of any rock debris or gasses.

The star, Polaris, sat in the middle of the sector, young and bright. Seen from sectors away, it held a brilliant blue hue and often twinkled as the ice chunks surrounding it shifted. The civilian ships could hide within the glittering ice shards, even harvest and filter them for a steady source of water. Tactically, it was a brilliant location, loathe as Captain Merlyn was to admit that.

Lacking the presence of dust and ore, sensors and radar for the civilian ships could work unhindered. If danger came, they stood at least a chance of detecting it.

But, however advantageous the Polaris Sector was to the refugee fleet, it would have held no appeal for the Singularity had she travelled alone. A battleship's more powerful equipment was rarely hindered by dust and magnetic ore, and the dreadnaught was far too large to be camouflaged in the ice fields.

In fact, since the sector had no planetary bodies to speak of, there was nowhere for the Singularity to hide. Instead, she idled near the star, where the ice had been vaporized, moving in accordance with Polaris' sunspots, so as not to paint a silhouette visibly against the star's light, where it could potentially be seen and recognized, sectors away.

They were being as careful as they could, Merlyn knew, but restlessly pacing with the blue star's predicted sunspots was an imperfect solution.

The boils of the blue star were violent swirls of black, tinged red on its edges, the same coloring painted on the hull of the ship that shadowed itself there. In the best times, it was strangely difficult to visually divine the ship's presence. But, in the worst of times, Polaris seemed to tire of the black dreadnaught's foreboding aura and failed to provide spots to cloak in front of, exposing the ship in full light.

Those were the moments that haunted him. Shadowed against the star, no matter how hard he tried, Merlyn couldn't ignore the ship's presence, nor could he ignore its implications.

"I don't believe it." Hours of mulling it over, of knowing that it made sense, Merlyn still couldn't believe it. "I just... don't." This was a farce. It had to be.

After taking his own rest and helping the Matron with the children, Officer Jones had come back onto the bridge just moments ago, but the Captain didn't look like he'd moved. The bags under his eyes had only grown. His hair, while not disheveled, was shining with the grease of several stressful days.

"The Steel Prince. Here." It was only logical, given the Demon's presence, but it was maddening all the same.

Jones furrowed his brows, "The who?"

Merlyn shook his head, handing over a data pad. "You're a planet-hugger. I suppose you have no reason to know him. But we sailors... well, we know the players. Be them factions, ships, companies, or people, we know who calls the shots." Such things dictated life, death, profit and safe passage. In the void, allegiances were everything. Those who worked alone never got far. "There are always places you should never go, people you should never engage. He," Merlyn gestured to the tablet, "is one of them."

Jones glanced to the data pad. The public dossier on the Singularity's commander had been pulled. Most of the details were redacted, but the picture made matched up with the salt and pepper haired man seen in the communiques.

"The Steel Prince made his name sinking fleets just like this one. Civilian targets." Sure, some had been militia ships trying to blend, but most, most had been transports just like the Badger. "That's how they culled the Rebellion. They sank every single ship even suspected of separatist association, with or without proof." The brutality used to end the Rebellion still very much haunted the Frontier.