Blood Impulse

Part 41.1 - AIRLOCK WATCH

Cardioid Sector, HR-14 System, Battleship Singularity

Admiral Gives felt sick. Feverish chills swept across his body, coupled with an all-consuming headache that worsened in every move he made. It hadn't gotten worse after his near-collapse, but it also wasn't getting better.

Kallahan was studying him, trying to predict when he might collapse entirely. Perhaps that would be a mercy, or perhaps, given the severity of his current condition, it would plunge him into a dangerous coma. Not even the Admiral would pretend to understand the consequences, only that he, usually a determined pillar of strength, was suffering. Still, he concealed his condition well. He was usually still. He never idly shifted his weight or tapped his foot, so none of the bridge crew thought anything of his unmoving position against the wall, but Kallahan had seen him nearly keel-over and seemed determined not to let the matter rest. "Are you certain you're alright?"

Let's not pretend you care, the Admiral thought. "I am fine," he told the Marine, pleased to hear his voice default to its calm, practiced neutral. This felt something like the flu, if the flu permeated his entire existence and could not be eased by fever-reducers. However, this was not the first time he had held the watch in some form of illness or injury. Personal misery hardly affected the logic required of command.

The crackle of the bridge's overhead speakers spared him Kallahan's response as the ship picked up another transmission from the boarding party. "Base," Lieutenant Colonel Pflum's accented voice called, "this is Unit Alpha-One. We've made contact with Baron Cardio. He's offering to negotiate a surrender with terms."

Lieutenant Robinson looked over to the Admiral, who nodded. Oddly, the movement didn't worsen his headache, only pushed a bit of nausea to the surface, but he supposed he hadn't suffered a physical injury as much as he had suffered a mental one. "Put me though," he said, moving back toward the radar console in the center of the room. He made the walk slowly, not wanting the Baron to think him over-eager and because his hand-eye coordination was still not quite right. He could move, but even the simplest tasks took more effort than they should have. Even the result of even a practiced habit like walking was imperfect, gait unsteady, but if he focused, it was manageable. However, the need to focus on such mundane tasks was exhausting.

Robinson hurried back up to the raised ring of consoles that circled the edge of the bridge, taking her usual place beside the comms controls once more. As the Admiral wrapped his hand around the handset on the radar console, she signaled ready, but the sound of another incoming transmission made him pause.

"Base, Unit Beta-One. Put me through to Actual. It's urgent."

Colonel Zarrey sounded breathless, not pained, but utterly shocked. That wasn't normal for the Colonel's lively disposition. The Baron can wait, Admiral Gives knew. He met Robinson's brown eyes, "Connect me to Beta-One."

'Wise choice.'

The ghost's input nearly made him flinch. It wasn't painful, but he hadn't felt her attention shift back onto him the way he usually did. It was rather like happening upon someone he had heard coming down the hallway versus turning around and finding someone breathing down his neck, except the hallway was his head, and he didn't like surprises. But the ghost continued, undisturbed, 'Of course, you are always rather wise, Admiral.' His instincts were some of the finest she had ever seen. Usually, they brought him to the right decision before she ever had to intervene.

From his perspective, that hardly felt like praise, and not in the playful sense that being called wise made him feel old. No, the comment felt void. It had been leveled without any warmth – a compliment paid by a prim, business-like presence, cool, yet not cold in feel.