Blood Impulse

Part 32.3 - THE WAIT

Paleon Sector, Battleship Singularity

They stood side by side. Two lonely survivors. Two perfect strangers. Lieutenant Elizabeth Foster glanced to the young engineer. His torso was still heavily bandaged, but he made no move to speak with her, as if the bond they shared was nothing.

He hadn't said a word to her, not even regarding the days she'd spent waiting in the medical bay, hoping he'd wake up. He offered no thanks, nor gave any acknowledgement of their shared pain. Maybe he hadn't heard. Maybe he didn't realize. Maybe she just reminded him of what they'd both lost.

Foster sighed and straightened her posture, careful to be attentive without going to proper attention. The Singularity's crew had insisted there was no need for the formality of saluting, and while she found it extremely odd and struggled to adjust, her comrade seemed unbothered. He stood in a near-slouch, calm, as the Admiral approached.

It struck her again how strangely short the Admiral was. Well, short was the wrong word. His stature was roughly average, but for a man of his reputation, that was remarkably underwhelming. Given the rumors, Foster had expected a giant, neigh, a titan, but the man wasn't superhuman at all. His hair had grayed, and his cheek had darkened with a slight bruise, though he wore the signs of mortality well.

"Ensign, Lieutenant, I understand that you have been put in a difficult position," he said, making his way to the head of the table in the ship's narrow conference room. "You were brought aboard a renegade ship with no say in the matter, and that will mark you both as criminals. Currently, your survival is unknown to anyone in the worlds, and while I have no right to keep you from contacting your loved ones, you should understand that doing so with criminal status will only endanger them." At present, Command didn't know who, if anyone, had survived the Garganita's wreck. It was cruel to leave their families thinking they were dead, but it was also reckless to correct that presumption. "Anyone you tell of your survival will become a target of Command."

The Admiral folded his hands behind his back. "The choice is yours. I will allow use of the Singularity's transmitters if you believe the truth outweighs the risk, but I would strongly advise against publicizing your survival." He looked to the Gargantia's pair of survivors, his gaze level. "Is there anyone you wish to contact?" With the ship's position already compromised for the operation on Midwest Station, now was the time to risk such a transmission.

"No one is waiting out there for me, sir," the engineer said. "Callie's my friend. She's family, and she's here."

Foster thought she caught a bit of ice in the Admiral's gaze, something protective about it, but it was hard to tell. His expression never faltered. "Very well," he said, "Ensign, you are dismissed."

The engineer scampered out of the room, leaving Foster eye to eye with the deadliest fleet officer in human history. Don't think about it, she told herself. It was better not to think about the facts of his history.

"What about you, Lieutenant?" the question was calm. "Is there anyone you wish to contact?"

Foster didn't know. She had family, siblings even. But could she endanger them? Or could she serve on this ship letting them think her dead?

"You do not need to make your final decision now, Lieutenant." Her tumult was all too clear. "If there is someone you wish to reach, notify me. I will make the proper arrangements. And should you wait, I will inform you if there is ever a chance to communicate such information securely."

She trusted his word. "Then I will wait, sir," she mustered up the determination to say. "In the meantime, I would like to request formal asylum here." She had put off doing so until the Gargantia's other survivor had awoken.