Blood Impulse

Part 13.2 - ORBITAL MANEUVERS

Homebound Sector, Haven System, Warhawk 104

"Stonewall, you cleared to approach and land in the starboard bay." At this range, the radio came through in good definition, almost as if the person speaking on the other end was right beside him.

"10-4, Base. Stonewall out," Admiral Gives replied through his headset, handling the controls of the Warhawk with ease.

It grew quiet in the Warhawk without the radio chatter of requesting approach and landing permissions. Despite his notoriously antisocial habits, Admiral Gives did not enjoy the quiet. It made his skin crawl. He was all too used to the working noises of his ship: the deep hum of the engines and the whisper of the air circulation systems. He was as used to those noises as he was to the sound of his own breathing. Being without that, and being alone, it bothered him.

He cast a look to the worn leather copilot's seat, but it stayed empty. Often, on little trips like this, the ghost would join him if he flew alone. But... not today.

Today, that seat was empty.

He stared at it for another moment, and then forced it away from his thoughts. He deserved nothing more than to be alone. After all, he was just a broken old soldier. Reeter had seen fit to remind him of that. He wasn't even capable of doing his job. Thirty-two members of the Singularity's crew were dead and the ship herself had an ugly mark to show for it. He had failed to protect them both.

But then that was hardly surprising. He had always been a failure.

He looked past the copilot's seat to the Singularity. The supply runners were occupying the ship's other landing bay, so he had been diverted to the starboard side. That put him between the Olympia and his own ship – not that he gave a damn about the Olympia existing there or at all. He only gave a damn about one thing in the entire solar system, and that was his good old ship. Everything else could burn straight to hell.

There was his infamous apathy. It always lingered, evil in its own sort of way. Every time he left the ship, it rose up and threatened to swallow him. Truthfully, he despised it. He had never wanted to be the sort of person who grew callous and bitter, who brought harm and fear, but the universe had never cared about what he wanted. As a result, he was all of those things: a true villain.

The last time such a thought had crossed his mind the ghost had laughed. You'd be the first villain I've met with a heart of gold, she had said. But she was wrong about him. She was very wrong. He had no heart of which to speak of anymore.

Despite all his efforts, he would never be the hero she had so desperately needed.

Maybe that was why the copilot's seat was empty.

He focused again on the old ship he flew beside. 'I'm sorry.' The nuke's ugly mark carved downward like a knife wound. New armor plates had been cast and fitted to the hull, but their color, even once they were painted, would not match the others. Those new plates had not seen the same wear and tear. They would create another 'scar' on the hull alongside hundreds of the warship's other blemishes.

Many people assumed the hull's scars were weak points, areas easier to penetrate. They were wrong. The hull's disfigurements were just as strong as the rest of the armor, possibly more so, since the material was newer.

Alongside the bow, the rest of the ship's length stretched out before him. Admiral Gives had always likened her to an arrow – one that flew straight and true. The heavily armored bow came nearly to a point, shaped like a carved arrowhead. The main length of the ship had some gentler curves than the angular bow, a long shaft.