Imprint of Blood

by Phil Huddleston

  ***

  The storm came out of nowhere. Or maybe it was just because Jake wasn’t listening to the weather. Or because he was drunk again. He had found a case of vodka in the little village and stocked up. Now he was sailing haphazardly on a course back to Nassau. He was tired of Cayo Guillermo. The people were friendly, the old men tending their nets on the beach always waved and said hello to him, but…there were no bars. There was no one to fight. No furniture to bust up. He needed a fight. He needed to hurt someone - or be hurt.

  He needed Kirsten and Teresa, but he couldn’t find them.

  It was almost dark. The storm loomed on the horizon, but he didn’t see it at first. He was too drunk. By the time he finally noticed it, it was on him. He looked up and saw the angry blue-black clouds, the rain squall just a few hundred meters away, and said, “Oh shit.”

  He peered at the mast, dimly realizing he had too much canvas on. He got up, loosened the headsail sheet, stumbled forward, fumbled with the headsail to reef it, lost control of it. The squall hit, pushing the cutter hard, heeling it over. He fell, his head hitting on the coaming, there was a huge thud, and he was overboard.

  He came to in the swells, big black swells that pushed water in his face, filled his nose and mouth, drowning him. He coughed, flailed his arms, tried to turn away from the wind. Barely able to breathe, he managed to get his body turned the other way, buying him a little space between the rolling swells to take in a breath and cough out the water. Fumbling for the PFD lanyard, he managed to find it and pulled, inflating the life vest. He noticed blood leaking down, staining the vest, mixing with water. He reached up to his scalp and felt the gash, coming away with a bloody hand. He tried to take stock, but the pounding of the waves left him little time to do anything other than cough water and try to breathe between the rollers.

  Jake laid back into the life vest, trying to stabilize his head so he could find some air to breathe. It didn’t help much. He caught a glimpse of the boat, now far away, sailing to nowhere. She was taking a pounding, and he knew she wouldn’t last long. She disappeared into the swells.

  Jake relaxed, letting the water take him. He knew he couldn’t survive this. He was 65 km off Cuba, and probably 80km from the Bahamas. He hadn’t filed a float plan. No one knew where he was, or where he was going. Jake laughed out loud. It had been a long, interesting life. He would miss it.

  “Jake.”

  “Jake.”

  Jake grinned. “Hi, Kirs. Where ya been?”

  “Right here, Jake. Always right here. Terese is here with me. We want you to wake up.”

  Jake shook his head. “No. I don’t want to. I want to be with you.”

  “I know, Jake. We want you to be with us too. But this is not your time. You have work to do. You need to wake up.”

  “No, don’t think so, Kirs. I’m tired. I want to hold you and Terese. I want to lay down with you and sleep now.”

  “The children, Jake. Gi, and Stevo, and Chlo, and Skip. The children. Keep the children safe.”

  Jake cried.

  The flitter hovered over the body in the water. The Coast Guard rescue swimmer jumped down and swam to him, reaching him and lifting his head, signaling for the winch. The winch came down quickly, and the rescue swimmer dragged the horsecollar to the man, got it under his arms, checked to make sure it was secure, then gave the signal to lift. Slowly the unconscious man came up into the center well, spinning slightly, until the crewmen at the top were able to drag him into the belly of the flitter. One Corpsman started working on him while the other crewman sent the hoist back down for the rescue swimmer. When all were on board, the flitter powered away, headed for Key West. Within the hour, the man was in the US Naval Clinic at Key West. All the way there, and for hours afterward, he mumbled in his fever. All the crewmen and nurses could make out was the repeated phrase: “I’ll keep them safe. I promise. I’ll keep them safe.”

  PART TWO - THE COMMONER

  7 Zeno

  Xiphos – an ancient Greek short sword, typically used as a secondary weapon. Also used in the Aeolian Empire as the primary weapon for all except the military, since weapons of higher technology are strictly controlled by the government.

  RimWiki, 2165 Edition

  London, England - Notting Hill

  10 November 2139 - 18 Years after Pandora

  Lois Vetton stared at Jake Hammett across the dinner table.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back, Jake,” she said.

  “I know, Lois. I was beginning to wonder myself.”

  “Well, it was a damn close-run thing, you know,” said Lois.

  “I’m sure it was,” said Jake. “Being lost at sea kind of clarifies your objectives, though. I’m six months sober now. Haven’t broken up a bar in that entire time.”

  Lois laughed. “There’s a few bar owners in Tolleson City that will be glad to hear that.”

  Jake smiled, somewhat sadly.

  “Not to change the subject, Jake, but I’m getting old,” said Lois, wine glass lifted in one hand.

  Jake could only stare back at her. He had no easy response to that statement; since Pandora had frozen his age in 2121, Jake had not physically changed. He was doomed to watch those around him age and die, while he continued.

  But emotionally – ah, that was a different story. Jake felt as old as Methuselah. This last bout with alcohol had nearly killed him. And he was afraid it would come back - the darkness in his life, the missing pieces of his soul, were still there. He knew that. He had beaten alcohol, but he hadn’t beaten the darkness.

  Jake stared at Lois, knowing she missed Kirsten as much as he did; but Lois had a life that was advancing, passing; her pain would pass as well; his would not, for a long while.

  Finally, he just nodded. There wasn’t much else he could do. Lois laughed and took him off the hook.

  “Yes, I know, Jake. You can’t relate.” Lois placed her wine glass down on the table and looked at him. “But my point is, are you ready to come back and take over as CNO?”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you happy there?” he asked. “You’ve done a fantastic job. The Colony Office is going great under Sara Watkins. Starship production is running smoothly. New Geneva is up and running, and things are quiet on the political scene for a change. Our fleet is growing. Another couple of decades, and it’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

  “So?” asked Lois. “I’m not the CNO. I’ve been covering for you for more than a year. I’m running out of excuses and cover-ups.”

  “You know, Lois, it’s just paperwork to promote you officially to CNO. You’re already doing the job. There’s no reason for me to come back right now. I’m still healing. I’ve got the alcohol monkey off my back, but I’m not in any condition to step back into the saddle. You and Gunner are doing a perfect job. Just stay in place until you’re ready to retire.”

  Lois nodded. “If that’s what you want, Jake. You know I’ve always understood what we’re trying to do here. It’s not about us.”

  “That’s right, and I don’t think anybody understands that better than you do, Lois. So just keep the faith.”

  “What will you do?” asked Lois.

  Jake thought about it. For 18 years, he’d slaved over the RDF, bringing it from a tiny nucleus of dedicated people to the vast organization now in place – more than 1 million people involved in colony development, starship design and production, tactical operations, intelligence – all the pieces of a functional Space Force.

  “I’m not sure. I need to find someplace where I can start my life over again. But where would I go?” he asked. “What would I do?”

  Lois grinned. “You’re asking the wrong person. Go ask Pandora. She’ll tell you.”

  Jake looked across the table at Lois. “You’ve been a good friend, Lois,” he said. “Kirsten would be proud of you. And you’re not getting old.”

  ***

  A week later, Jake took Lois’ advice. He caught the transfer slo
op to Kamilaroi and took the shuttle down to Tolleson Base. He crossed the Headquarters compound and stepped into the central courtyard where Pandora rested, still quietly monitoring humanity and the RDF. Pandora slid open the hatch and he entered, moving to the back of the Club room and making himself an orange juice, as if he had never been away. Then he sat down at the nearest table and drank, slowly, until the glass was nearly empty.

  “Pandora, I’ve been away. Actually, I’ve been ill. But I’m better now.”

 

  “But I know I’m not fully healed yet. I still have a dark place inside me that won’t go away. It would be dangerous for me – and for the RDF – to come back to work now, I think.”

 

  “So I need to take another year or two off, to try and finish the healing process. I know that much.”

 

  “Thanks, I was hoping you’d agree. But…where should I go? What should I do?”

 

  “No, I don’t. I don’t have a clue.”

 

  Jake thought about it.

  “Aeolis, of course. We haven’t been able to form an alliance with them. We can’t even break through to a point of having negotiations with them. That damn Empress Miranda kills everyone who even hints at the existence of Earthers, as she calls them. Atsuko has lost three operatives in the last year trying to make a breakthrough there.”

  Pandora was silent. Jake thought about it. He thought about it for quite a while. Finally, he nodded.

  “Yep. I’ll go to Aeolis. Personally. What do your computation engines say about that, Pandora?”

 

  Jake grinned bitterly. “Thanks a lot. If I ever doubted you are female, I don’t anymore.”

 

  Jake just grinned. “I think I can handle them.”

 

  “Yes?”

 

  Jake, stunned, shook his head. “No…” he stuttered. “There’s so much left to do. What…how can I get by without you to talk to?”

 

  “Pandora…” Jake began.

 

  Jake could only nod. “OK. I’ll miss our talks. All your advice. Everything.”

 

  “Yes?”

 

  “Oh my God,” said Jake. “Horrible…”

 

  Jake nodded. “I hope you have been happy,” he said.

 

  Jake shook his head. “And now you must leave.”

 

  Jake nodded again. “We will, Pandora. We will. And by the way, what was your real name? When you were human?”

 

  Jake gaped, mouth open, as he made the connection.

  The next day, Jake and the rest of his staff watched as Pandora slowly lifted out of the courtyard, turned, and silently moved off into space, her speed increasing rapidly as she gained altitude, until she became a black dot and disappeared. Jake felt a pain as if he had lost his best friend.

  Pandora’s prediction that RDF staff – especially the Intel team - would freak out over his plan to visit Aeolis was proven correct. Lois and Gunner were adamant that Jake couldn’t go there. But Jake was equally adamant that he would go. Finally, after bitter arguments, the Intel staff signed off on it under the condition that he would spend three months at Eudora completing the standard indoctrination course required for operatives infiltrating the Empire. Jake agreed, although he didn’t like it. He began his preparations to leave, meeting with Lois in his office.

  “Lois, I’ve officially promoted you to CNO, effective immediately. Of course, you can choose your own staff. I’ve got some good people, but you do what you think is right.”

  “I couldn’t improve on anyone you have, Jake,” said Lois. “I’ll keep Gunner as Chief of Staff, and everyone else as well. It’s a great team.”

  Jake nodded. “I think that’s a wise decision.”

  Lois continued. “I’ve got you booked on tomorrow’s transfer sloop to Eudora. When you finish indoctrination there in three months, they’ll take you to Barcam. From there, you’ll meet our Station Chief from Aeolis. She’ll come out to Barcam to meet you and take you the rest of the way to the Capital.”

  Jake nodded. “Do we have my cover story sorted yet?”

  “Yes. They’ll prepare a complete back story for you at Eudora – but the short version is, you’ve been a mercenary, most recently fighting the rebels on Maia. Now you’re going to see the sights in the Capital.”

  Planet Aeolis - City of Aronte

  Capital of the Aeolian Empire

  The day they arrived in Aronte was stormy and much colder than Jake expected. The rain flew almost horizontally across his vision, and the wind kept pushing him sideways as he tried to walk from the shuttle to the terminal building.

  "Remember," hissed Commander Barnett from in front as they struggled across the apron toward the loading ramp. "Speak as little as possible until your ears adjust to the local accent. And for God's sake, don't accidently use our real names!"

  "Understood," said Jake.

  Entering the terminal, the sudden cessation of wind and rain was abrupt. The hubbub of conversations around him took the place of the noise, but at a much lower level. He followed Commander Barnett as she headed toward the Customs lines, taking her place in a line marked "Aronte Natives Only". Jake fumbled out his passport with cold fingers as the line advanced. Soon they reached a bored Imperial Customs officer behind her little window. Commander Barnett - or Metrodora as she was known locally - presented her passport and waited patiently. The officer glanced at the picture, then quickly looked up.

  "Oh, hello, Metrodora. How are you today?

  "I'm good, Phile. Just coming back from Barcam."

  "Buying more wine for us to drink?" laughed the woman.

  "But of course!" winked Metrodora. "I'll be expecting you at the tavern to sample it!"

  The officer stamped the passport, then looked past Metrodora to Jake. "And who's this with you?"

  "Ah, just a new bodyguard, you know," said Metrodora. "I sort of wore out th
e old one, left him on Barcam."

  Jake handed his passport forward, and Metrodora took it and handed it to the officer.

  "Zeno Alexander Anastasias...of Barcam," said the officer. She looked at Jake. "My, you're a big one."

  Metrodora laughed. "The bigger, the better, when it comes to bodyguards."

  "True, true," said the officer. She stamped the passport and handed it back. With a wink at Jake, she said, "Stay out of trouble, big boy."

  Jake - now Zeno, in his Aeolian identity - nodded and followed Metrodora out of the terminal. She waved down a robotic aircar and climbed into the back seat. Jake removed his sword and got in, sitting in the rear-facing seat, on the other side from Metrodora, so as not to impede her feet.

  "Good," said Metrodora. "You remembered."

  "Lord knows you've drilled it into me a dozen times," said Jake.

  "Well, sorry. But we've been successful in keeping a low profile on Aronte for all these years by being very, very careful - and very prepared - when we come here."

  Jake nodded. "I know, Commander - uh, I mean, Metrodora. And you've done a magnificent job. I can't say enough about the quality of the Intelligence Service and the work they've done here."

  "Just remember everything we’ve drilled into you, sir, as you go about your business here. We can't afford to lose you."

  Jake nodded again. "I agree with you. I don't want to lose me either."

  Soon the aircar pulled up to a small tavern in the entertainment district of Aronte. A sign outside announced it as the "Throne of Amyntas". They disembarked and entered. Inside was dark, as it was still early. Metrodora passed through the tavern proper and into the back section. Turning a corner, she entered a living area, composed of several rooms.

  Opening the door to one of the rooms, she waved her hand and said, "This will be your living area. Anything you need, just ask the tavern staff. They'll take care of you. You can trust them; all of them are Earth natives. Of course, not all of them know who you are. I’ve only told them you’re a visiting VIP from Earth."