Imprint of Blood

by Phil Huddleston

  “Absolutely, as long as they don’t get any more reinforcements,” replied Butler.

  “Good,” said Franks. “In ten minutes either we’ll own the ship, or we’ll have blown it up. Hang in there.”

  On the deck in front of him, the Corpsman stood up, turning to Franks.

  “I’ve done all I can do, Sarge,” he said.

  Franks grunted, looking down at the Bat, who had several leaky bandages in place now and one arm in a sling. Then he holstered his .45, leaned forward and grabbed the creature by the neck, hoisting him to his feet by brute force. The Bat squealed, a high-pitched sound that seemed to go up until it went out of the human hearing range.

  Dragging him over to the control panel, Franks pointed to the panel. Then he pointed to the reactors. Then he sliced his hand across his throat, making a cutting motion. He pointed back to the panel.

  The Bat shook his head. Franks grinned. Then he reached up and grasped the same handle the engineer had touched before. The Bats eyes went wide, and he shuddered, trying to step back, but Franks had a good grip on his throat.

  Franks once more pointed to the reactors, made the cutting motion across his throat, and then pointed to the big handle. He grasped it and started to pull it down.

  “Na! Na!” yelled the Bat, then made a high-pitched squeak. He pointed to another handle, lower down on the panel. Franks looked at him. The sweat was pouring off the alien, and his hands were shaking. He was scared.

  Franks grabbed the other, lower handle and pulled it all the way down.

  ***

  “Any chance of salvaging that cruiser and getting it home?” asked Denny.

  “No,” said Pete, “We can’t take that chance. We have to assume they managed to get a QE squirt out before we took the ship. That means there could be another Bat warship – maybe several of them – here in a matter of days, maybe even hours. We’ll settle for what we can get.”

  “OK,” said Denny. “What about the survivors?”

  “We can’t leave any behind,” said Pete. “We can’t have any more information leak to the Bats than we’ve already done. We take them all back, whatever it takes. Cram them all into the cargo hold, and as soon as that AI core is on board, get us the hell out of here.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Denny, grinning. “What a coup this will be, though.”

  Pete frowned. “I’m not so sure. We broke the non-contact directive. We may all get court-martialed.”

  Denny stopped suddenly, the thought not having occurred to him.

  “Crap. I never thought of that. But we didn’t have a choice! We didn’t break the non-contact directive! The Bats broke it for us!”

  “Tell that to Admiral Hammett when we get back,” said Pete. “I’ll be standing right behind you.”

  Two hours later, the Chicago stood off from the Bat cruiser and watched, all recorders running, as the self-destruct charges went off inside the ship’s fusion reactors. The resulting explosion was quite satisfying. The Bat cruiser fragmented into thousands of pieces, none larger than a flitter door. The cargo hold of the Chicago now held 314 surviving Bat crewmen, stuffed shoulder to shoulder, hands and feet bound, guarded by a well-armed platoon of Marines. In the brig were a dozen officers, held incommunicado.

  And in a well-guarded storage area, the AI core of the Bat cruiser sat, hopefully to divulge more secrets about the capabilities and tactics of the Bats to the spooks of the RDF.

  Pete looked over at Amy Tan and winked. “Amy’s getting tired of this place, Denny. I think we ought to get out of here.”

  Denny grinned and gestured to the Helm. Martina pressed a few keys on her console and smiled back at the two of them. The ship sank out, headed for the nearest RDF forward base at Nashira, 248 lights and 17 days away. Pete gratefully let Amy inject the morphine into him before the Corpsman set his broken arm.

  Sol System - MarsBase

  A very pregnant Captain Kirsten Monk walked off the shuttle from MarsDock. She was met by Jake Hammett, Teresa Tolleson and three children – Granada, Teresa’s five-year old, Chloe, Kirsten’s three-year old, and Skip, Teresa’s two-year old. Chloe ran forward and into her mother’s arms, getting kisses on her forehead and cheeks and big hugs from Kirsten. Kirsten had been gone for four weeks, and it was uncertain who had suffered more – Chloe, without her mother for so long, or Kirsten, missing her daughter. But now the eighth colony from Earth had been established on the planet Hanover; Kirsten was back with another success to add to her record. She scooped up her daughter as best she could, being eleven months pregnant (as she claimed), and embraced Teresa, then Jake, finally handing Chloe off to Jake as the combined weight of two children – one outside, one inside – became too much for her.

  Teresa took her arm and helped her to a waiting electric cart, while Jake loaded the children in the back seat. Teresa turned and tossed over her shoulder, “Jake, we’ll see you tonight.” Then she drove off with Kirsten and the children, leaving Jake to find his own way back to his office.

  When he got there, Gunner was waiting, with a young Captain in a clean uniform that belied the bags under his eyes. His arm was in a sling, and he carried a cane as he rose to attention. Jake waved them back to their seats.

  Jake sat behind his desk and looked sternly at the Captain.

  “You are one lucky sonofabitch, young man,” he began.

  “Sir?” asked Pete Franklin.

  “We’ve interrogated the Bat officers you brought back. Independently, of course. They all agree that the cruiser never managed to get off a QE squirt before you took her out. That means the Bats probably still don’t know exactly what happened out there.”

  “Wow, that’s…that’s fantastic, sir. I’m really glad to hear that.”

  “Yes, me too, Pete.” Finally, Jake smiled. “You had one bit of bad luck, surfacing right next to a Bat cruiser. But everything after that was good luck. I like officers with good luck, Pete. Good luck usually comes from good decision making.”

  “Thank you, sir. Of course, it was my crew, more than me.”

  “I’ve watched the tapes, Pete. I know who did the heavy lifting. But if you had not fired missiles when you did, you wouldn’t be here now; the Bats would have an RDF frigate to examine, along with untold numbers of prisoners. Our planet would likely be under attack within the month, and we are not nearly strong enough at this point to resist for more than a few weeks at most. Essentially, son, you’ve saved humanity. I think that deserves a reward.”

  Pete was silent. Jake approved of his restraint. He leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “I’d like to give you a cruiser, son, but I can’t. I’ve got too many good Captains in line for them and it would be an insult to pass them over for someone so far down the seniority list. But if you’d consider acting as aide to Kirsten Monk, our Director of Colonization, for a couple of years, I think I can give you one at the end of that tour. That’ll give you plenty of time to heal up, get that arm and leg back to normal. And who knows, you might learn a little something from her. What do you say?”

  Pete glanced at Gunner, sitting in the chair next to him, and then looked back at Jake.

  “That would be tremendous, sir. I’d very much like to accept that.”

  “You got it,” said Jake. “I’ll have orders for you by the end of the week. In the meantime, just take it easy and get healed up.”

  Gunner stood, indicating the interview was over. Pete climbed to his feet, using the cane for leverage, and saluted. Jake waved him away with a grin.

  ***

  “What have you learned from your Bat prisoners lately?” asked Kirsten.

  Jake lay beside her in the bed, reading from his tablet. He put it down on the nightstand beside him and put his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

  “Before he took command of the cruiser, guess what their Captain did?” said Jake.

  Kirsten hit his shoulder. “Don’t tease me. What?”

  “He worked in Naval Intelligence.”

>   From Kirsten’s other side, Teresa nearly exploded. “You’re shittin’ me!” she exclaimed.

  “Language, Terese,” said both Jake and Kirsten simultaneously.

  “Sorry,” said Teresa. “But that’s pretty incredible, you have to admit!”

  “Exactly,” said Jake. “He’s pretty tough, he won’t give up any operational info or plans, none of that, but we have managed to get him talking about some things indirectly that he doesn’t think are harmful. Like, the general culture of the Navy, the educational system that they use for their children, things like that. He has a son that is in their version of the Naval Academy, he’s very proud of him. So we get him talking about his son, that leads to other things. We’re making some progress.”

  “Well, I have to tell you, I love that new aide you gave me. Pete Franklin is one hell of an officer. The only thing I can’t understand is why he accepted a staff job. To me, he isn’t the type.”

  “Well, for one thing, he was injured pretty badly. He’s still recovering. That would slow anybody down.”

  “And?” asked Kirsten.

  Teresa jumped in before Jake could answer.

  “And he’s got the hots for Lt. Tan in Intelligence, the one that was on the Chicago with him. They’re engaged. So he wants to stay close to home for a while.”

  “Oh,” said Kirsten. “Yeah, that would change his perspective.”

  Suddenly Teresa rolled over on top of Kirsten, causing her to go “whoosh” as if she was being crushed, then fell into the space between Kirsten and Jake. Kirsten hit her on the shoulder.

  “Hey, I was there, you know!”

  “Just a second, Kirs, I wanna ask Jake something.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Jake.

  Teresa leaned over and whispered in Jake’s ear. Jake groaned and then nodded.

  “OK,” he said. He got up, grabbed his tablet and left the room.

  Kirsten stared at Teresa. “What did you say to him?”

  Teresa smiled. “I said I haven’t had any alone time with you since the baby was born and I think it’s about time. I asked him if he’d go run interference with the nurse for a while and give us some time to ourselves.”

  “Ohhh,” said Kirsten. “I like!”

  Teresa growled as she reached out to turn off the bedside light. “I thought you might…”

  ***

  Down the hall, Jake finished checking in with the nurse and noted that all the children were sleeping. Granada had just finished a school project, writing her first ‘novel’ – a short one, only one page long - but quite the accomplishment for a five-year-old. Chloe, at three, was learning her ABC’s now. Skip was sleeping soundly. And the baby was doing well, doing exactly what all babies do – putting it in at one end, sending it out the other.

  They had wrestled over the name. Jake asked for Hannibal because he was one of the greatest generals in history. Kirsten insisted on Stephen Hawking because he was one of the greatest physicists in history. Finally, they had compromised, naming him Stephen Hawking. Jake was learning that living with two wives involved a lot more compromise than leading the RDF. But he was content. Pandora, he thought, had chosen well. Much better than I could have chosen for myself, he mused.

  5 Cabin

  We had a small cabin in the pine forests of East Texas. It was surrounded by bluebonnets and paintbrush. We loved it there. I remember Dad walking us down the road to the river, where we would catch little frogs and tadpoles. It was heaven for children.

  - Journal of Granada Tolleson Hammett, donated to the British Museum, 2222

  21 March 2134 - 12 Years after Pandora

  Aeolian Empire – Helios System - Inner Kuiper Belt

  Commander Ligeia Satra peered at the holo. Something wasn’t right. It wasn’t anything specific. She just felt it. She shifted her gaze from the holo to the viewscreen at the front of the bridge, which gave a more-or-less realistic view of space in front of her destroyer, the Momus. Nothing appeared amiss; but something was just not right out there.

  The gas sensors that normally stayed flatlined at the bottom of the holo had wiggled, just a minute ago. Just a small, tiny, wiggle. It lasted only for a couple of seconds.

  But there shouldn’t be any gases like that out here in the Kuiper belt. Per the sensor, it had been an impossibly small trace of freon. A chemical that should never occur here. Except in the exhaust of a starship.

  “Anything?” she asked her Tac Officer, who was also peering at her console, fingering the screen, trying to hone the sensors in on the trail of gas they had crossed – if that’s what it was.

  “No, Mum,” replied Alcinoe. “Nothing.”

  Ligeia rubbed her chin and leaned back in her command chair. They were out here, somewhere, she thought to herself. Damn Fringe rebels. Sneaking around out here in the Kuiper belt, up to no good. Probably getting ready to make a run on Aeolis, a terror attack of some kind. Ligeia hated rebels.

  “Saph,” she said. “Rotate us around the plane and boost the radar up to 110 percent for just one rotation. I don’t think that will damage it if we just do one rotation. Let’s see if we can flush them out of their hiding place.”

  A minute later, Alcinoe yelled out, “Got ‘em! 156.002, 450k-klicks. Just a tiny return, but it’s them, I feel it!”

  Ligeia sprang to her feet. “Battle Stations! Helm! 200g, right at ‘em! Alcinoe! Keep the radar on them hard, don’t let them wiggle out of here!”

  Alcinoe nodded, leaning over her console. “Tracking…if Helm can get her vector settled down…”

  Lt. Ainippe on the Helm console growled back at Alcinoe. “I’ll tend to the driving; you tend to your shooting…”

  Alcinoe provided a running commentary. “Track settling down…good signal now…should be coming up on the holo any second now…”

  Ligeia stared at the holo. Slowly it started painting the target. It showed a strange starship, like nothing she had ever seen. It was lumpy, uneven; it had alternating patches of rock and ice like an asteroid. Even as she watched, a cover on the back of the object opened and a system engine went to full power, directly away from the Momus, running hard. In a matter of seconds, the object had accelerated up to 208g directly away from them, toward the outer Kuiper belt, building speed to sink out.

  “Take us up to 210g, Helm,” yelled Ligeia, jumping back in her command chair and fastening her force webbing around her.

  “210g, aye, Skipper,” called Ainippe. She rang the excess g alarm for 5 seconds, then slowly started ramping up the accel, exceeding the compensator limits. The perceived g-force inside the Momus increased steadily until they were all groaning under 10g.

  “Target has increased acceleration to 220g, Skipper,” called Alcinoe. “We can’t match that.”

  “Launch missiles,” commanded Ligeia.

  Alcinoe pushed the red button on the right-side trigger mounted on her Tac chair, perfectly placed to allow her to press it even under high g-forces. Everyone on the bridge heard the vibration as four missiles departed the Momus, running hot and true toward the distant target.

  ***

  Captain Ming Xiao came in, agitated.

  “The Acrux is missing,” she said. “Failed to report last two checkpoints.”

  “Damn it,” said Jake. “I told them the Aeolians were sharp. No QE squirts before they went dark?”

  “Nothing unusual,” said Ming. “Normal check-in at 1800 yesterday, then nothing at midnight or 0600.”

  “Teresa’s at Eudora, right?” asked Jake.

  “Yes sir, she and Atsuko arrived two days ago and are scheduled to head back tomorrow morning our time.”

  Jake sighed. “Blip Teresa, give her the news, and tell her I’d like for her to check it out. And tell her to be careful!”

  Ming nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  At Eudora, 280 light years from Earth toward the Aeolian Empire, Teresa was just sitting down to dinner with Atsuko and the Eudora-based intelligence team when the QE blip was relayed to her tablet. Sh
e looked at it and shook her head.

  “The Acrux has gone dark,” she said to the group. “Missed the last two checkpoints. Jake wants me to go take a look.”

  Atsuko, her eyes wide, said “Crap.” The sentiment echoed around the table. The Acrux was based out of Eudora now; the crew on board were friends of everyone at the table. The news was a blow.

  “Could it be a QE box failure?” asked Commander Dane Fritz, one of Atsuko’s head spooks.

  Teresa shook her head. “They have three systems for redundancy, all independent. You’d have to lose the whole ship before that would stop you from sending a message.” A grim silence pervaded the room as they contemplated that statement.

  Finally, Atsuko spoke. “Do you want some of my team to go with? They might be helpful. There’ll be no shortage of volunteers. Those are all friends of ours.”

  “No,” Teresa said. “This is not a spook mission, pardon my French. This is a damage control mission. It could end up being a prisoner rescue, with shooting involved, or…the collection of starship debris. Either way, my crew is best suited for those scenarios.”

  Teresa turned to Commander Fritz. “Have you heard anything from your station on Aeolis about this?”

  “No, nothing,” said Fritz. “It’s been totally normal.”

  “Well, that’s not surprising. I doubt they’d let any word get out, even if they captured her or…worse.”

  Atsuko nodded. “I wish I was going…” she sighed.

  Teresa agreed. “So do I, Atsuko. So do I.”

  A week later, Teresa surfaced in the Aeolian Empire home system at 40 AU from Helios, the primary. The Sirius sat quietly for a full day, collecting ELINT from the distant planet Aeolis, but found no mention of the Acrux or any unusual activity in the public networks. They sank out and surfaced again at the 30 AU point and spent another day monitoring for activity or nearby ships. Finally, they sank out and surfaced again just beyond the mass limit, 1,000,000 km from the last known position of the Acrux. Creeping up on the position, they were within 500,000 km when the Tac Officer jumped in his seat.

  “Contact!” he yelled. “Aeolian destroyer, designate DD1, right behind that big one…” he marked a large asteroid in the holotank.