Lois nodded again. “I’ll help you, Jake. We all will. But we need to decide what to do about their demands. How do you want to respond?”
Jake looked at her like she was an alien from another planet. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists. No response.”
Lois tried again. “Jake. It’s Teresa. Maybe we can negotiate something with them. At least let me try.”
Jake shook his head. “How would it look, Lois? I’ve refused to negotiate or compromise with threats for all these years - but when it’s my own wife, I change the policy? What would that do to the future of the RDF? I can’t do it, Lois.”
Lois nodded, silently.
“Keep trying to find her and extract her.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Lois Vetton. Quietly, she picked up her tablet and left the room.
***
Outside Frankfurt, the two jailers – the tall, thin woman dressed in black and the man in the sloppy brown suit – were on a video call to Mobile, Alabama. On the other end was Acton Pierce – worldwide head of the Covenant of God, the ultra-right political party hell-bent on implementation of a religious theocracy in the United States.
“No response from the RDF? Nothing?” asked the thin woman.
Acton shook his head. “So far, nothing. Make another video, this time make her scream more. Get it to me by tomorrow morning.”
The man in the brown suit objected. “She’s very weak after that last session. I’m not sure she can take any more. We may lose her.”
“No matter,” said Pierce. “We never intended to return her anyway.”
“One thing,” said the thin woman. “She keeps laughing at us, saying that we don’t know Jake Hammett. And she keeps looking at us, telling us she’s imagining us without arms and legs. It’s creepy. But she won’t tell us what that means.”
“Forget it,” said Pierce. “Get the next video made, get it to me, we’ll ship it off to Hammett. He’ll come around.”
Pierce disconnected the video link, then made another call to Washington, D.C. He had a report to make to a Senator.
***
Teresa screamed. The pain was exquisitely unendurable. But it wouldn’t stop. She screamed again, continuously, until she passed out. The man in the sloppy brown suit stood up from behind the video camera, stopping the recording.
“She’s out again,” said the tall thin woman, disgustedly. “We’ll have to wait until she comes to.” She took the water basin and started splashing water on Teresa’s face again.
“I don’t think she can last much longer,” said the man in brown. “We’re going to lose her.”
“I don’t care,” said the woman. “The sooner, the better. Just get some good video and we can be done with this.”
Outside the farmhouse, four guards walked around, their pulse rifles unobtrusively hidden beneath long overcoats. In geosynchronous orbit overhead, the scout ship Rigel peered dirtside, every sensor straining to detect any hint of Teresa’s location. The Saints had removed her tracker, embedded in her right thigh, to prevent the RDF from locating her electronically, leaving a bloody gash. Lois Vetton had thus resorted to old-fashioned police work. She was convinced Teresa would still be in Europe – it was too dangerous to move her off planet, and she was sure they would stay reasonably close to the point of abduction.
The Rigel scanned the frequency of every communication method in Europe – every phone, every video, every Net transaction she could intercept – using the cycles of ten frigate AI cores wired in parallel, mounted in the cargo bay. It had been three days since the last video. Lois, sitting in the bridge, hadn’t slept in 24 hours and was dozing when the comm came in.
The comm officer read the message twice, wanting it to be untrue. But it was valid, verified and sent directly from Geneva RDF. It had to be true. With tears in his eyes, he turned to Lois, who had roused when she heard the comm chime. She saw the tears in the eyes of the Comm Officer and shook her head.
“What?” she asked.
The Comm Officer spoke haltingly, barely able to get it out. “They found Teresa’s body in an alley in Geneva. She’s dead.”
Lois nodded. She had known all along they were too far behind the curve on this one. She had expected this outcome. But it hurt all the same.
“Prep my shuttle. I’m going to fetch her. And have the Chengdu alongside waiting when I get back.”
Lois turned to the Captain of the Rigel, Noah Brown. “Captain Brown, you will stay on station and keep sifting through the ELINT until you find something, or hell freezes over, whichever comes first. Understood?”
“Aye, aye, Mum,” said Captain Brown. “Will do. We’ll find them.”
***
Teresa’s body lay in the hanger of the Chengdu, her favorite ship. Lois had brought her back to MarsDock. Her coffin lay on a bier, draped in the battle flag of the RDF – a single blood-red handprint, across an orange background. The symbol of blood spilled – the promise of a future for humanity.
Jake sat beside the coffin in a folding chair someone had brought for him. He had been there a long time. In a moment of mercy, Gunner had brought him a sandwich and a vodka screwdriver, just in case. They sat in a tray beside the chair, untouched. Jake had already consumed a half-dozen drinks before the Chengdu arrived. Now his pain was dulled by alcohol and headache, but still too grim to bear.
“Hey, Terese,” Jake mumbled. “Hope you don’t mind that I had a few too many before you arrived. I was really missing you. I didn’t think I could face the moment without it.”
Jake rubbed his face. He had shaved that morning, but he would need another one soon. He dropped his head down, looking at his shoes.
“I know you wouldn’t like that, Terese. You always said never drink your troubles away, just give them to someone else. Preferably your enemy. I always remember that, babe.”
He sighed. “I remember everything, babe. Every moment. Every laugh, every tear. Every time we were together, every time we were apart. You and me and Kirsten. We were a team, weren’t we?”
Then the tears came. Jake cried, like a child, weeping into his hand, no longer trying to hold it back.
Far in the back of the hanger, Lois Vetton and Gunner Carlson watched silently. The hanger had been declared off-limits for the moment. The doors were locked. The two stood guard, in the shadows, as their friend grieved.
Much later, Jake rose from his chair. He went to the coffin, laying a hand on it for minutes. Then he leaned over, kissed the top of it.
“Goodbye, Terese,” he said quietly. “Kirsten was the best of us. You were the heart of us. Kiss her for me when you see her.”
Jake Hammett turned and walked out of the hanger, never looking back. Lois and Gunner fell in behind him as he left.
***
Then he raged. Jake went berserk like Lois had never seen before. Like a wounded animal, he cursed, he spit, screamed. He kicked the walls out of his cabin. He broke every stick of furniture in it. No one could go near him.
After an hour, it got quiet. Lois gave him another half-hour before she sent him a short MEMSAI burst letting him know they had tracked down the kidnappers who took Teresa.
There was a one-word acknowledgement. Then nothing. Finally, after another hour, the door to Jake’s cabin opened and he stepped out, freshly shaved and showered, wearing a clean uniform. He walked to Gunner’s cabin, where Gunner and Lois were waiting it out. With a brief nod to them as he entered, he sat at the table and asked for the details of the intel about the abductors.
Gunner briefed him while Lois added details here and there. When Jake had the big picture, he sat quietly for a few minutes, then give them their orders.
Gunner protested the last part of the orders violently, but Jake wouldn’t even discuss it.
Thirteen hours later, a team of RDF Seals dropped into the outskirts of Frankfurt as dawn approached. Quickly they checked their gear and formed up. Moving silently through the darkness, they approached a farmhouse. With a flurry of f
lashbangs, they entered, killing several half-awake guards, but ensuring that two people were captured uninjured – the tall, thin woman and the sloppily dressed man in the brown suit. In a matter of minutes, they were back on their shuttle and gone, leaving the farmhouse burning in the night.
At the same time, in the city of Mobile, Alabama in the U.S., a similar team of RDF Seals converged on a large, well-built house in the suburbs of the city. Efficiently, they cleared a half-dozen guards and entered the upper floor, where they found a couple just rousing from sleep. Bundling them into tactical zip ties, they moved them quickly downstairs, out the door and into a nearby shuttle. As the shuttle departed, the house erupted into kindling as railgun rounds from orbit obliterated it from existence.
And in Washington, D.C., Senator Bob Boland woke to find the barrel of a pulse rifle pointed between his eyes. Within minutes, the good Senator was gone, never to be seen again on Earth. His disappearance remained a mystery; but many thought it probably had something to do with his support of the Saints, which some said was more overt than it should have been for a public figure.
***
In orbit around Titan, Jake Hammett watched, stone-faced, as the screaming woman flopped around on the floor. Her arms and legs had been removed by a laser. This had the side benefit of mostly cauterizing the stumps. The same action had been performed on the sloppily dressed man beside her, but unfortunately, he had not survived the experience.
This was the part Gunner had tried to convince Jake to forego; but Jake just ignored him and went about his business. Lois had not intervened; in fact, she probably would have helped Jake if given the chance. But Jake was alone on this one; he had ordered the prisoners placed on the Denali and had taken her out with a minimal crew. He had ordered the ship into orbit around Titan, then told the crew to go to their cabins and not to come out until he called them.
Now he watched the object on the cargo bay floor – once the tall, thin woman in black who had tortured Teresa – flop around, screaming, begging for mercy. There was no mercy in Jake Hammett today. He leaned over her slightly, spat in her face, and walked away, leaving her to die of eventual blood loss. He didn’t know how long that would take, but he hoped it was a long time.
Entering the maintenance compartment directly behind the cargo hold, Jake stared into the window of the airlock. Inside the airlock, Senator Boland and Acton Pierce stood, wearing semi-rigid space suits designed for construction workers in hostile environments. Their hands and feet were handcuffed to metal frames containing robotic thrusters. In addition to the oxygen on their spacesuits, the metal frames contained large supplemental oxygen tanks. The total amount of oxygen would enable them to stay alive for roughly 48 hours. Now Jake walked over to the control panel and very slowly, so they could see everything, he entered his security code and placed his hand on the switch to open the outer door.
“The thrusters will land you safely on Titan. After that, you’ll have two days to think about your death. There won’t be anybody coming to get you. Goodbye, you gutless bastards,” said Jake Hammett, and pushed the button.
***
A week later, Jake buried Teresa at the cabin in Texas, beside Kirsten. It was a small service. He stood with Granada, Chloe, Stephen and Skip, in the rain of a cold winter day. He got down on his knees in the muddy soil and held the children close to him as best he could, while they cried. The rain splattered on their umbrellas, soft but persistent, until they had cried it out. Jake took them back to the cabin; as they walked, Granada asked in a tearful voice, “Daddy, why do they want to kill us?”
Jake stopped and hugged her. “Because we have a vision so much larger than anything they can see, Granada. They can only see tomorrow; we have to look much farther than that. And they hate us for it.”
“Are we going back to Geneva, Daddy?” asked Chloe.
“For a while, sweetie,” said Jake. “Not for long. Just for a little while.”
The fallout over the actions of the RDF was loud and long. The German government protested the raid on their sovereign soil. The American government protested the raid on their sovereign soil. Both made raucous threats of political retribution. Jake ignored them all. He called his flag staff into his conference room.
“We’re moving HQ to Kamilaroi,” he said. “Teresa had just completed a study of the feasibility of moving the RDF Headquarters there to get us away from the politics and infighting of Earth, and the study looked good. Establish a new HQ there and get us moved out of the Sol system as soon as possible. I don’t ever want to deal with these bastards again.”
His team nodded. Gunner spoke up. “Where do you want it? In the same general area as New Geneva?”
“No,” said Jake. “On the other island, I think. The day will come when RimFed will stand on their own, and the RDF will submit to their civilian authority. When that happens, we’re going to want some physical distance between them and us, I suspect.”
Within a week, Jake’s team had put together the rough plan to move their headquarters to Kamilaroi. Within a month, RDF engineers were on the ground at the new site, surveying. As in New Geneva, they chose a site with substantial water reserves. On the shore of a middling-size lake, in a bay protected from the occasional fierce storms of the planet, they laid out their plats for the landing field and the new buildings. A few months later, Jake moved his personal staff and most of the Headquarters functions to Tolleson Base on Kamilaroi - along with his children.
14 July 2137 - 16 Years after Pandora
Kamilaroi - Tolleson Base
“He’s drunk again,” said Gunner on the comm. Lois half-raised out of the bed, looking at the clock. It was 0200 hours.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“In my apartment,” said Gunner. “The Shore Patrol knows to bring him here now, when he starts busting up a bar.”
Lois sighed, rubbing her eyes. “What are we going to do, Gunner? This can’t go on.”
“Tell me about it,” said Gunner. “He’s fallen apart. I can’t get any kind of decision out of him at all. He sits at his desk all day staring out the window. If you ask him anything, he just waves you away.”
“OK,” said Lois. “Have him in his office at 1400 tomorrow. We’ll bring this to a head. We have to.”
“OK. See you then,” said Gunner Carlson.
***
Jake stared at his two closest friends in the world – his Chief of Staff, Captain Gunner Carlson, and Admiral Lois Vetton, now his second in command after Teresa’s death.
“You’re both against me,” he said.
Lois, sitting beside Jake within grasping distance – intentionally – reached over and placed her hand on his, rubbing the back of his hand in a soothing motion.
“We love you, Jake. We love you. Focus on that. We are your friends, we love you, and we’re trying to help you.”
“No. You’re trying to take my job. You’re against me. All of you.”
Lois kept rubbing his hand in a circular motion, soothing.
“We would never, never take your job, Jake. You misunderstand. We just want you to take a little vacation. You’ve been working too hard. We love you, and we are concerned about your health. Don’t you feel tired? Don’t you feel like you’ve been pushing yourself too hard?”
Jake thought about it, through the hangover and the chills he was having, because he needed a drink. He felt like crap.
“Maybe you’re on to something,” he mumbled.
“Let me book you a nice, relaxing trip to someplace wonderful,” said Lois. “Someplace you can go sailing, Jake. I know how much you love sailing. Blue water, big fish, a nice big boat. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Jake nodded. That would be nice. He lifted his head and smiled at Lois. Then he turned and smiled at Gunner.
“That would be nice,” Jake Hammett said. “That would be nice.”
Nine Months Later
Earth - Cayo Guillermo, Cuba
Jake had the shakes again. He c
ursed, throwing his empty bottle against the side of the boat, smashing it. Out of vodka. He rolled over in the bed, facing the wall, and shook, his hands trembling like those of an old man. He could get up and walk into the little village to get another bottle, but that would go quickly as well. He was always out of vodka these days. Out of food, out of water, out of vodka. Out of options.
He wailed, beating his hand against the wall of the boat, over and over again. He dropped his head down into his arm, blocking the bright sunshine from his eyes. He knew he couldn’t sleep; he could never sleep when he had the tremors. He curled up into a fetal position.
“Jake, honey,” said Teresa from behind him. He froze. It was not the first time Teresa had talked to him. He knew she was dead. But she talked to him anyway. Usually when he had the tremors.
“Jake, honey. Our children,” she said.
Jake howled.
***
Lois stared at Gunner. “Latest report?”
Gunner shook his head. “Still the same. No improvement.”
Lois’s face hardened. “I was really hoping the Caribbean would help him, bring him out of it.”
“I think the only person who can bring him out of it is Jake Hammett,” said Gunner. “And it may never happen. We may have to write him off, Lois. He’s been down there for nine months now. And getting worse every day.”
Lois nodded. “As much as I hate to say it, I think you may be right.”
She pushed back from the desk, leaning back and staring hard at Gunner.
“It’s getting harder and harder to make excuses for his absence. I’ve used up every possible reason I can think of, I’ve lied to the media until they don’t believe me anymore. Even the lowest clerk here in Headquarters knows something is wrong. This can’t go on.”
“Let’s set a deadline,” said Gunner. “If he doesn’t come back to himself by…what, three more months?...we convene a board of review and transfer him to the reserves, make a formal announcement.”
Lois nodded but interjected. “Let’s give him six months. We owe him that much.”
Gunner agreed. “OK. Six more months. If the Jake we knew isn’t back by then, well…we put him out to pasture.”
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