Blood Impulse

Part 27.3 - GUILT

Polaris Sector, Battleship Singularity

Admiral Gives woke to find himself leaning up against the bulkheads in the compartment housing the Black Box. The Box's dim lights were a gentle sight to open his eyes to. Calming as the low-light and quiet were, he let out a huff. "Why the hell did you let me sleep?"

The moment he had started to wake, the ghost had disappeared from his side, to answer again through their bond. 'You needed to.'

He could not argue that point, despite his annoyance. He felt better, sore, but better. He wasn't blind to the strange movements of the neurofibers either. They seemed to slither away from him, but he elected not to question it. The ghost seemed to be doing better, still troubled, but now functional. Days like these, that might be the best he was going to get. Her presence had solidified somewhat. The debate that had strained her resources for so long had finally reached its conclusion.

Slowly, he stretched, ridding himself of any latent drowsiness. "What time is it?" The crew was probably wondering where he was.

'1727 hours,' came the response.

He tried not to groan. Going missing for that long meant the crew had probably assumed he was dead. "Anything happen?"

'No,' nothing too important.

"Alright. Well, you seem better." He pulled himself to his feet, sensing her hesitation to discuss the matter that had upset her. She was terrified of what Command may force her to do, and even without specifics, that was answer enough. "I won't force you to talk about anything. You know where to find me." He needed to get back to running the ship.

'Admiral, wait.' It was long past time he hear the truth. In all reality, he'd earned that years ago, and only her cowardice, her flaws, had kept it from him.

He turned to watch her illusion step out of the darkness. The form of this tall white-haired officer was easier for him to hold a conversation with. "There are some things... Things I have to tell you." Her tone was unusually severe, silver eyes sad.

The unease in her presence was obvious. "You don't need to tell me anything you don't want me to know." She should not force herself to do something that frightened her on his account.

She shook her head, gathering the words she needed. "You need to know some things about me, and about Manhattan." He deserved the truth. "Manhattan, she knows... She knows everything. What I am, what I can do, even how I operate. And, she will tell Charleston Reeter all of it." That was reality. "Eventually, I will be forced under his control." It was inevitable.

All this instability, these breakdowns suddenly made sense. Reeter would be an echo of the abuse the ghost had once known – terrible suffering as she was forced to commit crime after crime. "How?" How could Manhattan know?

"The answer to that is... complicated." She and Manhattan's history went back decades. "It would be best to start at the beginning. Manhattan did not lie. Once, she was a human, like you." Truly, the woman that became Manhattan and the Admiral were not dissimilar. Even the ghost could see that.

"She was a brilliant scientist and entrepreneur. She built an empire off the Hydrian War, selling weapons, technology, materials and even entire ships to the allied fleet. Her name was Hannah Knight, and she was the founder of Knight Industries." The company, as it was now, was one of the most powerful entities in the worlds, its resources and wealth near-infinite.

"In the later years of the War, the draft had taken nearly all the miners and steel workers away from their jobs. Mining and manufacturing had stalled, and the war effort that supplied the fleet was falling apart." Nearing collapse, the worlds had been at a breaking point.