Imprint of Blood

by Phil Huddleston

  Even though Pandora had given them a complete design, it had taken eighteen months after Pandora’s arrival to build Yehliu – a spacedock essential to the development of the RDF’s fleet. A permanent party of 1,480 newly minted members of Teresa’s Operations and Logistics division populated it, teaching themselves how to assemble and test starships.

  With the Sirius hard-docked, Jake and his companions transferred control to Cassie in Engineering, shut down all non-essential bridge systems and exited the ship into the walkalong, a long corridor down the side of the station between the portal entrances. They stood aside as medics rushed into the ship to care for the injured in Engineering, then continued toward the next portal over, where their shuttle was waiting. As they walked, Teresa turned to Jake and Kirsten.

  “New Standing Order from Operations: no officers above O-5 on test flights from now on. Especially the three of us at the same time. That was stupid. Especially for you, Jake.”

  Jake sighed. “I know. Admirals can’t be Captains. But you sure take all the fun out of things.”

  “Can’t help it, buster. No more playtime excursions for you. You’re not a pilot anymore, and you aren’t going to be running any more test flights either. None of us are.”

  Jake nodded agreement. “You got it.”

  Reaching the next portal, they entered their shuttle. Jake glanced at Kirsten and Teresa, noted the tension and exhaustion on their faces, and quietly settled into the pilot seat, leaving them to collapse into the passenger seats behind. Jake projected instructions to his MEMSAI, Zoe:

 

 

  Disconnecting from the portal, Jake’s personal AI – Zoe - directed the shuttle away from the orbital station at low power until they were clear, then began positioning the shuttle to break orbit. Jake watched the front vision screen; a magnificent speckle of stars wheeled around the shuttle as it rotated, then the Milky Way came into view, passing across the screen like a beaded necklace pulled across a black velvet curtain. He looked toward Ophiuchus as it passed through his field of vision. There lay the enemy; the Bat Empire. And behind the Bats, 14,800 light years away, was the Core, with billions of Machine Creatures living their lives, barely aware of humanity. Jake thought about humanity’s home in the Universe. The Galaxy was vast; so vast that a single human could hardly comprehend it. Jake wondered what it would be like to be so far from the solar system that even the Orion Arm would be lost to view. Perhaps someday soon humanity would be at such a distance; soon in relative terms, a few hundred years. If they survived the Bats…

  As Jake watched, the Milky Way sank out of view and the Earth rose in the vision screen, a gigantic blue and white marble below them. But he knew how small that marble really was. Even from the orbit of Mars, just one planet over, it was only another tiny point in the sky. The home of humanity was miniscule in the grand scheme of things; how little it mattered to the galaxy, he thought.

  But we will make a difference, Jake vowed. We will make a difference, or we will die trying.

  The shuttle finished its rotation, the retros fired, and within minutes they entered atmosphere and started a descent toward Geneva, Switzerland, headquarters of the RDF. As they descended, Jake came out of his reverie and got back to business, watching the instruments as a backup to the AI.

  ***

  Two years earlier, soon after the Machine Ship Pandora had landed in Washington, D.C. – in fact, on the very day Jake stood in front of the U.N. General Assembly and recounted the message she brought – Pandora lifted off from the White House lawn and flew to Geneva, settling into the courtyard of a large office complex.

  Pandora then revealed she had purchased the building and set it aside for RDF Headquarters more than a year before her surprise landing. After all, a sentient artificial intelligence of the power of Pandora - able to operate autonomously across the entire galaxy, communicate with multiple alien races, and with an intelligence level estimated at more than 1,000 humans – had no trouble hacking into Earth’s Internet, establishing a persona, and becoming a multi-billionaire in short order. Still, Jake, Teresa and Kirsten were shocked when Pandora explained that the huge office building in Geneva and a bank account containing billions of dollars was reserved for them, to kick-start the RDF as the space defense force for humanity.

  Pandora had selected Geneva as RDF Headquarters to ensure the space navy remained neutral of all Earth governments. And for that precise reason of independence and neutrality, the RDF was not popular now. Every major power on Earth was trying to weasel its way into control – and take over humanity’s entry into interstellar space. It was a constant, daily battle to fend off the political – and sometimes physical – attempts to tear control away from them and put it in the hands of Earth governments

  In the last two years, both Jake and Teresa had been the target of assassination attempts, escaping by the narrowest of margins. The governments and corporations of Earth were not taking kindly to their independence. The fact the three of them had been hand-picked by Pandora to lead the Rim Defense Force made little difference to the avaricious leaders of Earth. Their enemies had labelled them the “Unholy Three” - a name which the media had picked up and now used frequently to describe them. And a name the three of them had gleefully adopted and used among themselves, especially Teresa, who had a wild and warped sense of humor.

  And for Jake – and the rest of humanity - a most puzzling aspect of Pandora’s choice was that she refused to explain why the three of them were key to humanity’s survival. She only said that her massive computational engine had performed millions of simulations – and that Jake, Teresa and Kirsten always emerged as the necessary keepers of the RDF. They had accepted their roles reluctantly at first. Now, a bit more than two years later, they found themselves more comfortable as they grew into their positions.

  Jake, designated by Pandora as overall head of the organization, had initially wanted to take only the title of Director of Operations. Teresa and Kirsten had quickly corrected him, forcing him to adopt the title of CNO, or Chief of Naval Operations, and the rank of Admiral. As Teresa had explained to him - multiple times, and loudly - a military organization could have only one head, and that person absolutely had to out-rank everybody else. Otherwise it would be chaos - there could be no ties on decision-making, or the RDF was doomed to failure. With that settled, Teresa had taken over the Operations and Logistics divisions, including the design, manufacture and operation of starships. Kirsten had created the Colonization Office – charged with locating and colonizing habitable planets. Between the three of them, they were hauling humanity’s ass into space.

  Parking the shuttle on the pad at the Geneva Landing Zone, the three climbed wearily out of the hatch and into a waiting security vehicle manned by four guards, who whisked them across the field to their quarters. Entering, they took the elevator up to the top floor where their apartments were, passing another two layers of security on the way. By mutual but unspoken agreement – the three were getting quite good at reading each other’s minds by now - Jake and Kirsten followed Teresa into her apartment.

  Exhausted, Jake crashed down on the couch in Teresa’s living room, while Kirsten fell into the nearest armchair. Teresa tossed her jacket and cap on the dining table and plopped into the other chair, laying one leg across the armrest as was her habit.

  Kirsten sighed, got up, picked up Teresa’s cap and tossed jacket, put the cap on a hook behind the door and carefully folded the jacket to hang in the closet. Then she sat back down in her chair and smiled at Teresa.

  “Don’t be a slob, sweetness,” she said.

  “I wasn’t,” said Teresa. “I knew you’d put it away.”

  “You take such advantage of me,” said Kirsten.

  “I do,” smiled Teresa. “It’s good to be the queen.”

  “Lord knows,” mumbled Jake on the couch.

  Kirsten looked down at the floor. “You know…” she started, then paused.


  Teresa looked at her expectantly.

  “…as my life was flashing before my eyes back there, I realized I really love you guys. I was afraid I was going to die without telling you that.”

  There was a long silence. Then Kirsten lifted her head, looking at Teresa with a challenge in her eyes. “We’re going to be in this life for a long time, Terese.”

  Teresa nodded.

  Kirsten continued. “I think the three of us should get married.”

  Jake, lifting his head, made a sound between a snort and a laugh.

  Teresa smiled enigmatically. “I was wondering when you’d get around to that.”

  “Well, it just makes sense,” said Kirsten. “We’re in this for the long haul. We take care of each other, we trust each other, and we sure as hell don’t have time for anyone else.”

  Teresa looked sideways at Jake, who was still lying on the couch, staring at them in disbelief. Then she looked back at Kirsten. “What about Jake?”

  Kirsten laughed. “He’s a guy. He’ll love it, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” said Jake. "Why do you want to do this?"

  Kirsten stared at him. "Well, for one reason, a triangle is the most stable relationship. Humanity seems to have forgotten that. Especially if the females choose the male."

  "That's crazy!" exclaimed Jake.

  "Is it?" asked Teresa. "Think about it. For millions of years, primates existed in a troop of one alpha male and multiple females. Somehow, along the way, humanity forgot about that most basic design of nature. But if the females are empowered to choose - which we are, because of who we are - then it's both natural and stable. For us, this will work."

  Jake shook his head. "I'm not so sure..."

  Kirsten ignored him and looked back at Teresa. “We ought to do this now, set a precedent for the entire RDF. Create a new social order for those who live and work in space.”

  Jake, protesting, stood up. “Hey, don’t I get a voice in this?”

  “No!” said Kirsten and Teresa simultaneously. “Sit!”

  Jake stood for a few seconds, but like most good commanders, he knew when he was outgunned. He sat.

  “We could call it a triplex marriage,” continued Teresa. “Make it something distinct, unique to the Space Force.”

  “Good,” said Kirsten. “I like it. But by contract only. One voyage, or one year, something like that. Whatever way works for each situation.”

  “How long for us, you think? Five years?” asked Teresa.

  “That sounds about right,” said Kirsten. “A five-year contract, automatically dissolved if not renewed. No messy divorces at the end. A nice clean break and everybody goes on their way.”

  Jake interjected. “The Earth governments are gonna raise hell about this, you know.”

  Teresa laughed. “As if we should give a shit what they think. All most of them have done so far is throw roadblocks in front of us at every turn.” She turned back to Kirsten. “Are you going to get down on one knee?”

  “I thought of this idea,” said Kirsten.

  Teresa grinned. Then she got out of the chair and, with a bow, she knelt on one knee.

  “Dr. Kirsten Monk, will you join me in marriage, for the term of five years?”

  “I will,” smiled Kirsten.

  Teresa turned to Jake.

  “Jake Hammett, will you join Kirsten and I in marriage, for the term of five years?”

  “He will,” said Kirsten. Jake glared at her. But he didn’t say no.

  ***

  Next morning dawned bright and clear, a beautiful day in Geneva. The brilliant rays of the morning sun streaming through the window woke Jake. The distant profile of the Alps and Jura mountains made an impressive arena surrounding the city. The contrails of jets leaving the airport, and shuttles headed for space, left their thin trails in the upper atmosphere.

  Jake found himself still on the couch, where he had collapsed last night after the near-death experience on the scoutship. Looking around, he saw Kirsten asleep on the floor, a pillow from somewhere placed under her head. Teresa was nowhere in sight.

  For a moment, Jake’s gaze lingered on Kirsten, sleeping peacefully if somewhat uncomfortably on the floor. Kirsten was not a classic beauty, but she had a physicality to her that drew people’s attention, even though she was largely oblivious to it. Sometimes in jest, Jake called her “The Valkyrie” – he said she looked like the winged warriors of the ancient Norse legends. Her face carried a strong intelligence that had impressed Jake since their first meeting at the White House two years before. Now, her streaked blonde hair was twisted and unkept, her uniform wrinkled, her boots kicked off and lying beside her, dirty socks showing beneath the blanket someone – he assumed Teresa – had thrown over her. Jake realized he probably looked no better.

  Jake thought about how Teresa was such a contrast to Kirsten, and yet their differences made them such a productive team. A team of divergence, thought Jake. Our differences are what make us so strong, because we don’t clash, we fit together. Building blocks of a bigger whole.

  Teresa, taller than Kirsten, with flashing brown eyes and black, straight hair, had the build of a professional athlete. And she was a dynamo - usually the first one to start something and the last one to finish it. She had a reputation around Headquarters of being a hard-living, hard-loving woman that you surely did not want to piss off.

  Kirsten, on the other hand, was a peacemaker. She found people with problems and helped them see the solution. Sometimes, Jake thought wryly, Teresa did the opposite. She found people without problems and gave them some.

  Groaning, Jake got up and walked over to the mirror by the entryway; what he saw there confirmed his suspicions. He looked a mess. Jake shook his head. In the mirror, he saw a tall man, well-muscled but not heavy, still reasonably trim for his age. But his uniform was wrinkled, his dark hair askew and he needed a shave badly. He noticed a grey streak in his hair that he hadn’t seen before. He sighed. Leaning forward, he poked at the small scar on his right forehead, trending up into his scalp – the mark of an ejection from an F-82 in 2115, during the Brush War. He did his best to comb his hair with his fingers, pulled at his uniform, tried to make himself presentable. He walked back over to the couch just as the doorbell chimed.

  The security screen on the coffee table showed Atsuko Kawasaki, head of RDF Intelligence. Leaning over to grab the screen, Jake fumbled for the switch to open the door, dropped the screen on the floor, grabbed it, and finally hit the proper switch. He looked up to see Kirsten sitting up, laughing at him. Atsuko entered, shut the door behind her and come over to sit across from Jake, next to Kirsten. Teresa came out of her bedroom, patting her damp hair with a towel, just in time to hear the conversation.

  “You’re not gonna like it, boss,” Atsuko said.

  “I know,” said Jake. “Another assassination attempt, right?”

  “Yep,” said Atsuko. “The NavAI had been deliberately set to take you straight into the Moon as soon as you initiated the course for Mars.”

  “So, an inside job,” said Jake. “Get all three of us at once.”

  “Right,” said Atsuko.

  “OK, let’s get on it, try to track down the source.”

  “Already done,” said Atsuko. “The Honorable Margaret Bolt, President of the United States. Via her dirty tricks guy, Frank Hale.”

  “Can we prove it?” said Jake.

  Atsuko shook her head. “Of course not. They’re too good at covering their tracks. But that’s where it came from.”

  Kirsten sighed. “Jake, we’re not going to be safe as long as we’re on Earth. We’ve got to get off this planet before they succeed in killing us.”

  Jake nodded. “I know. MarsBase is almost viable, we’ll go ahead and relocate there early, I think. Next month.”

  Kirsten thought. “That’s going to be tough. We’ll have to run a skeleton crew until more modules are finished. But I guess it’s better than staying here on Eart
h like a sitting duck, while Bolt and every other whiney-ass politician on the planet tries to kill us.”

  Jake steepled his fingers, thinking. “Exactly. Tough or not - let’s get off this ungrateful planet for good. We’re trying to save them and they’re trying to kill us. So to hell with them for now. We’ll go someplace where we can be safe.”

  Teresa patted her hair with the towel. “So…next month, then?”

  Jake nodded. “Yep. MarsBase has two modules complete now, enough space for fifty people. We’ll go ahead and relocate ourselves and our own staff next month and bring up the rest of HQ as we complete modules.”

  Atsuko frowned. “We don’t have enough docking ports on the Mars orbital station yet. We need to complete a couple more of those before it’ll be viable.”

  Jake agreed. “Put some priority on that, Terese. We can’t stay here any longer. We gotta go.”

  Teresa nodded. “Hey, I have an idea.”

  ***

  A month later Jake, Teresa and Kirsten packed their bags for the last time on Earth and took a shuttle up to SpaceDock Yehliu. Disembarking, they took the walkalong to the new corvette Denali, recently completed and signed off – and triple checked for hidden dangers.

  The Denali was the first armed warship completed to RDF specifications by a consortium of former aerospace companies. When Pandora landed in 2121, the building of chemical rockets became obsolete overnight. Jake’s team had made every effort to cushion the impact to the aerospace companies by offering them first choice on contracts to build starships.

  The consortium now called StarCrafter Spaceships consisted of the best of the former rocket builders of the U.S., Europe, Russia, China, India and Japan, as well as some smaller countries. Retooling their rocket manufacturing to build starships, the consortium had ramped up quickly. Denali was the fourth functional ship to come off the assembly line and pass flight test.