Blood Impulse

Part 35.4 - CURSED

Mississippi Sector, Battleship Singularity

There was a true sorrow in her voice, one that wove through the dancing shadows of the candle that lit the room between the lamps. That honest sadness was all that kept Gaffigan from fury. "What do you mean you can't leave?"

"I told you," she said, "this part of me is nothing more than a ghost. And ghosts... They haunt people, they haunt places, they haunt things." She was no different. "I am bound here. I cannot leave."

A plea pooled in the depths of her silver eyes, begging him to understand, and while Monty couldn't make sense of it, he understood enough. They called her the Singularity's Ghost for a reason. "This ship is cursed." It was haunted by an intelligent weapon.

"This ship is not cursed," the Admiral spoke without turning around in his chair.

"How can you say that?" Gaffigan said, leaning over to see the man's drawn shoulders and lowered head behind the ghost. "We don't know this thing. We don't know its intentions. We don't know its priorities. Hell, we don't even know what it is."

"But I do," the Admiral said. "And I trust her. She saved your life, she saved Jazmine's life, and she has saved my life more times than I can count." She had saved him so many times now that he wondered why she didn't grow tired of it. "What more can you ask of her, Lieutenant? What more can she do to prove her loyalty?"

"I don't know." That was Gaffigan's honest answer as he stared at the back of the Admiral's head. Without his uniform jacket, the man looked considerably more vulnerable. Old scars littered the skin of his forearms. A recent burn, risen and angry, crawled up his wrist, disappearing under the black glove that still covered his left hand. "This thing is capable of manipulating all of us. Including you." Given that, how could they ever truly believe its intentions were genuine?

No counterargument was offered, leaving the room quiet enough for Gaffigan to hear the whir of the air circulation systems. He was left wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead, deeply disturbed by this situation, as the ghost spoke again, her voice so strangely familiar.

"I understand your unease." Truly, she understood. The fragility of humanity kept their instincts for danger taut, and she, no matter how she tried, could not conceal her power. They always felt it, and fear was the natural response to something they did not understand. "I am not like you. My place was never among you, simply alongside you." That was enough for her. It would keep her from becoming lonely.

Gaffigan tugged at the collar of his uniform jacket, trying to distract himself from the weight of her gaze. It didn't feel hostile, just patient – so strangely patient as she watched him gather his thoughts. "You said you were a weapon," he prompted.

"I said this illusion acted as an interface for a weapon," she corrected.

Gaffigan shook his head, unsure why he'd bothered asking. "An interface that manifests as the ghost. The ghost that is known for killing crewmen." Honestly, the reality of this situation was beyond him. "You claim to mean us no harm, and yet you are an omen of death." Every crewman on this ship knew that.

"She has never harmed a member of this crew." Admiral Gives said, certain of that. The ghost could scare the crew, manipulate their perceptions and memory, but she could not bring them direct, physical harm by her own intention. "Those rumors were mistaken." He had asked her once about the origin of that maleficent legend, and the answer she had given still haunted him.