Blood Impulse

Part 11.1 - EAVESDROPPING

Twenty minutes later, Homebound Sector, Haven System, Base Oceana

Lieutenant Montgomery Gaffigan kicked at the pristine decks of Base Oceana. "Find our own way back?" he huffed contemptuously, echoing the Admiral's words, "Easier said than fucking done, sir."

Alba, walking beside the armory officer, just shrugged. It didn't feel great to have the Admiral fly them here, and then not fly them back, but he understood. "Well, he and Reeter are likely going to try and kill one another." It was something Alba certainly did not want to be caught in the middle of. "And he did tell us he could wait until the meeting was over, if we wanted to fly back with him."

"And ride back with the Steel Prince while he's covered in the life blood of a self-proclaimed god? No thank you." Monty just had the feeling that meeting was going to get messy, and he'd rather not be there when it happened. "Have you ever seen him kill anyone, Alba?"

The engineering bridge officer shuddered involuntarily. "No."

"Neither have I." The Admiral was strangely calm on the ship. Despite all the rumors of his violence, the man was polite and patient in Monty's experience. Even calm, he was plenty scary, but it was odd.

Squeamish in all things involving gore and violence, Alba knew seeing the Admiral kill anyone would be exceptionally disturbing. He desperately changed the subject as his stomach churned. "Come on, Monty," he started down an emptier hall, "Let's try and hitch a ride with one of the supply runners."

Gaffigan didn't argue. He happily followed Alba away from the crowds. He could feel the weight of the crowd's gazes. He could sense their judgement. It was the welcome he'd come to expect in the Homebound Sector. With the Singularity's ship patch on his sleeve, the personnel on Base Oceana assumed him to be either incompetent or a criminal. Monty didn't particularly care about their opinions, but it wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to pick a fight on the basis of respective ship assignments, so it paid not to linger.

Alise Cortana struggled to catch up with the Admiral's subordinates in the bustle of Base Oceana's larger corridors. When they split off into an emptier section of the station, she picked up her pace, but no matter how she moved, she couldn't seem to catch up.

They turned a sharp corner ahead of her, out of sight for just a moment, but when she turned the same corner, it turned to be a dead end. An empty dead end. "What the hell?"

Someone thudded down onto the deck behind her, and a cold barrel was pressed against the back of her head. "Get your hands where I can see them," the man behind her ordered.

Alise quickly dropped the duffel she'd slung over her shoulder and put her hands up in surrender.

"Who are you and why are you following us?"

She was so sick of this base and everyone on it. Standing around for the last few days had gotten on her nerves. "Sergeant Alise Cortana. I'm just looking for a ride, asshole."

It was only then that Monty bothered to look at the sleeve of her uniform jacket. "Oh."

The pressure on the back of her head vanished. Cortana turned to face her ambusher, who was none other than the red-haired officer she'd been following. He laughed awkwardly. "Our bad. We thought you were one of Reeter's cronies."

She stared at him. "What?"

Monty could tell by the annoyed look on her face that she had no idea what he was talking about. It wasn't something he particularly wanted to explain at the moment. "Never mind." He offered out a hand, "Lieutenant Montgomery Gaffigan, chief armory officer for the Battleship Singularity."