Another round came through the ship somewhere behind them, in and out, somewhere in the crew quarters, leaving two gaping holes that rapidly bled out pressure. Damage control teams slapped patches over them, containing the breach temporarily until it could be repaired.
“Rob, you dumbass, get the hell out of there!” came over Rob’s comm, on the direct channel back to Phoebe and the Vercingetorix. “Let us handle this!”
Rob grinned. “I’ll be more than happy to leave, Admiral, just as soon as you get here.”
With a sound like a train wreck, something exploded next to the bridge, and all went dark.
Behind the Warmonger, Vitus’s A40 was also coming apart. A half-dozen point defense rounds had hit her now; she was just one small step above junk. But her engines still worked, and he still had two good missiles attached to the hardpoints. At least, he hoped they were good – the missile status console had gone dark.
Vitus sighted on the engines of the Warmonger and let the A40 run. For ten seconds he held his base vector, juking madly; it was near-suicide, because by holding his base course, he became predictable. Point defense shrapnel rattled off the bird like rain. Finally, five seconds out from the huge battleship, he switched the AI fire control back on, hitting the permission switch. Both missiles fired, and he pulled as hard on the stick as he could, nearly tearing it off its mount. The AI, limiting the g forces allowable, still crushed him into the seat so hard he felt a rib break. He missed the huge engines of the Warmonger by no more than fifty meters as he flew by. In the tactical holo, he saw behind him a huge explosion coming up from the tail end of the battleship. Then all was black.
Phoebe’ watched in the holo as the leading Bat battleship blew up in front of them, sending chunks in every direction. The Wellington continued to spin rapidly in front of her fleet, and just on the other side of it, the Enterprise also spun, more slowly, but clearly out of action.
Then they were in range, and her fleet opened up with everything they had on the remaining Bat fleet. She saw another hundred-odd A40 fighters come over the top of the last of the Bat cruisers and frigates, firing their missiles into the engines of the Bat battleships. A third wave of fighters pulled in behind the Bat cruisers and frigates and sent a wave of missiles into them. A cruiser and a frigate lost way, their engines knocked out.
The Bat fleet suddenly vectored away, out of the battle line, running for the mass limit, chased by the remaining RDF fighters. Many of the fighters were out of missiles – but some were not, and even as Phoebe watched, one of the Bat battleships lost an engine and her acceleration fell, her path turning slightly before she got things under control, just in time to watch the rest of her fleet leave her behind.
Phoebe issued orders for her frigates and destroyers to locate and rescue any A40 pilots still alive in the battle area, and then sent the rest of her fleet to pursue the escaping Bats. She knew they could not catch all of them - but they had a good chance of knocking out another three or four ships before they escaped.
Then she went to the shuttle deck where the rescue shuttles were going out to help the Wellington and the Enterprise. There she waited for news of her husband and her comrades in arms.
Deditio
You have talked with me about fighting.
...and I have told you of the time long ago.
All that is past.
- Cheyenne Chief Two Moons, describing the Battle of the Little Big Horn, 1898
Nest - Bat Home Planet
Raditel Spaceport
20 August 2207 - 86 Years after Pandora
Jake Hammett sat quietly in his cabin on the old corvette Denali, still his favorite after all these years, his hands folded in front of him. His uniform was immaculate. His eyes were closed. A gentle knock came at the door, and he sighed.
"Come!", he said, rising to his feet and reaching for his dress cap on the desk beside him.
Ginger stuck her head in the door. "They're ready."
Jake acknowledged with a nod and fitted his cap on his head. Then he took a cane, smiled at Ginger and headed toward the door, leaning hard on the cane and limping as he went.
Walking down the corridor to the hatch, Jake resumed a grim expression. Ginger carefully remained silent. At the exit hatch, Jake walked off the ship and onto a large stage specially built beside the docked corvette. A cover over the stage shielded the party from the dimmer sun of Nest, which still threw a good heat at noontime. On the far end of the stage, the Bat delegation waited quietly. Most of them wore Bat Empire Naval uniforms; but the one in front, Emperor Lecator, was dressed in resplendent, flowing robes, trimmed in red and gold. He wore a tall mitre. Jake thought he looked like a large rat dressed like the Pope.
Surrounding the stage were hundreds of reporters, holo techs and drones, capturing the historic event for the masses. Jake ignored them. Limping across the stage, he stopped at the table in the center and waited.
After some slight delay and a brief, muttered conversation, the Emperor and his aide advanced slowly to the table. The Emperor stopped opposite Jake and, slightly confused, turned to his aide. The aide spoke quietly and pointed to the documents on the table in front of the Emperor. The Emperor turned back to Jake and, without expression, leaned forward and grasped the old-style ink pen that had been placed there for him. For a moment, he looked at it - then leaned forward and slowly signed the documents in front of him. Placing the pen down on the table, he straightened and turned once again to his aide, a question in his eyes. The aide spoke quietly, and the Emperor turned and returned to his party at the other end of the stage.
Jake waited a span of seconds, then with great deliberation limped around the table until he also stood in front of the documents. Slowly taking the pen, he leaned forward and signed them as well. Then, holding the documents in his hand, he turned and walked to the podium at the front of the stage, facing the media. Behind him, in a wall of solidarity, stood Ginger Barnett and the rest of his staff, along with Phoebe and Rob Walker and the rest of his senior captains. Vitus stood in the back, his skin showing burn damage. Rob Walker’s left arm was still in a soft cast; many of the rest of Jake’s staff showed wounds as well.
Jake raised the document and held it high, so the crowd could see it clearly.
"Eighty-six years ago," Jake began, "We made a promise to make our part of the Galaxy safe from the genocides of the Bat Empire. Today, we have completed that promise. From this day forward, for a period of one hundred years, the Bat Empire will not be allowed to have military starships. They will not be allowed to colonize planets. And they will pay reparations for every planet and culture they have attacked. We have agreed on these points and the Emperor has signed the instruments of surrender."
Jake paused, staring around at the media, the drones, the holo techs in a kind of wonderment. His voice faltered slightly as he continued.
"The price for this peace has been high…"
For a moment, Jake could not speak again. Behind him, Ginger felt a tear move down her cheek; she knew Jake was thinking about the Empress Hecate. A Bat destroyer – one of the survivors of the destroyer squadrons that were out in front of the Bat Fleet at the Battle of Orinoco - had reversed course and came up behind the Empress at tremendous velocity. It performed a kamikaze directly into her engines. There were no survivors.
"We will not soon forget the sacrifices made, both on the field of battle and by those at home. This morning, in orbit around Nest, the First Fleet takes the place of honor in beginning the enforcement of these sanctions. We mourn the loss of all the sailors in both First and Second Fleets, and those lost in other actions prior to the recent battles. But we go forward in the knowledge that they gave their lives so that all races in the Rim Federation will be safe from unbridled aggression, now and in the future."
Jake wiped at his eyes, unembarrassed. For a moment, he could not continue. Finally, he wrestled his emotions under control.
"Let's take this moment to remember that the price of fr
eedom is eternal vigilance. I will not be here in the future; my job is done, and I will now retire. But the RDF will continue, protecting the Rim. I implore each one of you to support them now and in the future, and never forget the sacrifice they have made for you."
Jake waited patiently for a minute while the drones and holo techs bustled about, capturing the moment. Then he turned, handed the surrender documents to Ginger, and limped off the stage back to the Denali. At the other end of the stage, the Emperor and his party departed quietly, ignored by the media and the others.
Oakwood, Texas
26 October 2210
I interviewed Admiral Hammett on his birthday, three years after the Battle of Orinoco. Immediately after the surrender ceremony, he had retired and moved back to his little cabin in the heartland of the North American Alliance, where he tended flowers and kept the graves of wives, children and grandchildren who had gone before him. He was not old, then, in body - his biological age had progressed to only about 50 years - but he seemed much older in spirit. The years - and the losses - had taken their toll. His hair had turned completely white. Due to his war wounds, he walked with a cane, limping as he went.
This was the last interview with Admiral Hammett before he disappeared in November of that year.
I asked him about his two children, the twins Alexander and Ligeia, who were still with Empress Hecate on Aeolis. He told me Andrea had passed guardianship of them to the Empress, and they would be raised in the Aeolian manner, as Andrea had wished. He did not feel that his age permitted him to do them justice as a parent. I could see the regret in his eyes. The pain of seeing his dead wife, Andrea Iona, in their faces must have been unbearable for him. During our interview, I asked him for which of his accomplishments he would like to be best remembered. He grinned at me somewhat sadly and told me this.
"We - all of us - every person - we leave only a small imprint on the universe. We all journey down a path, doing the best we can - or the worst we can, in some cases - but in the end, our imprint is about the same. The universe moves on, the stars spin and dance, and little biological creatures live their lives, dancing to the music they hear in their heads."
He leaned back in his rickety old wooden chair, dusted off his jeans and stared out across a field of flowers, toward a distant river.
"I hope some will say that I danced well to the music, and it was good."
Epilogue
about 5,000 years later
Pandora crossed the indefinite border, moving from the Core into the Rim. She adjusted course slightly to make for Rio Bravo, an old fortress planet - the isolated, end-of-the-line outpost of the 30,000 planet Rim Federation, nestled up against the Core like a forgotten marble rolled against a baseboard.
Rio Bravo boasted a small Space Corps outpost for peacekeeping; a research observatory peering hopefully into the Core, hoping to learn something of value from Machine Space; and the terminus end of the space lanes for the Sector. From Rio Bravo, one could only go back Rimward - unless, of course, one desired to enter the Core and disappear forever. Those of the Machine Space did not suffer fools gladly.
Decelerating to a relative crawl, Pandora coasted up to Rio Bravo, in High Stealth mode. Inside the small control room reserved for biological passengers, what appeared at first glance to be a rectangular console in the floor started humming an old rock song, one not heard in thousands of years. The ship came to a high orbit relative to the planet; a crack appeared in the console, and two mechanical legs unfolded from the back. Two mechanical arms pushed the back half of the console upright until - something - stood where it had been. Finally, the top hinged back and become a head, revealing a blocky android which had been stowed in compact form.
In a passable imitation of a once famous singer, the android sang.
"Angie....Angie..." it crooned, as it moved to the back of the control room. Approaching a closed door, which slid open at its approach, the android faced a large tank of liquid. Inside the tank floated a male human body, of approximate middle age. The eyes were closed, and the expression was blank. A harness plugged into the back of the neck. The android reached up to a small port by the tank and plugged in a finger.
said the android.
said the Machine Ship.
The android remained frozen, plugged into the wall port. Several minutes passed. Suddenly, the human body in the tank gave a jerk. Its eyes opened, and it thrashed his arms wildly. The liquid in the tank drained away. With a gasp, it thrust his head above the waterline, spewed forth the remnants from its lungs, and took a breath. As the remaining liquid drained, it continued to cough and gasp. Finally, it reached behind, and with a jerk, unplugged the cable from the back of its neck. It pushed a button and the door of the tank opened. It stepped outside and knelt on the floor, naked and dripping, coughing the last remnants of fluid out of its lungs. Resting for a moment, it raised his head and said softly, "Goodbye, Pandora."
Three months later, a small one-man starship approached Earth. It descended until there was enough air for the wings to bite. Then it began a long, roundabout glide down to a place once called Texas.
Jake Hammett came to rest well south of a vast grassland. North of his location had been the ancient city of Dallas - now gone back to nature, grassy plains with intermittent stands of timber. The land was flat there, like a pancake. A few old ruins still stood, crumbled mostly to dust.
But here, more than one hundred miles south of the old city, the land showed a bit of relief - forests of pine trees, scattered oak groves among them, quiet, slow-moving rivers winding their way toward a gulf two hundred miles away. As Pandora had warned, this last body was breaking down quickly. By the time he opened the hatch and stepped out, Jake was weak and dizzy.
He remembered, this place where he had once been young, more than 5,000 years before. Now the entire planet was a dedicated nature preserve. Undoubtedly Rangers were on their way to arrest him, a trespasser, landing without permit in this sacred cradle of Humanity.
But they would not find him here. He started walking west, toward the river he knew was there, hidden in the forest. The land had changed, had gone wild, but he knew where he was. He spoke, reciting a travelogue to himself, and some long-dead spirits.
"This was just east of Oakwood," he said. "In the late 1800's, there was actually a riverboat landing over there by the river. One of my distant ancestors built them - the riverboats, I mean. They used to go down to the Gulf. And my mother, was born just about ten miles north of here. My father, about twenty miles east. This is where I grew up."
He stumbled. His legs were giving out. It was hard to breathe.
He walked across a meadow, covered in paintbrush and bluebonnet. He had forgotten their existence, until he stepped from the hatch and saw them stretching out in front of him, thousands of them. The memories of Kirsten, and Teresa, and Andrea flashed back to him, then. He saw them gathering bluebonnets from beside the cabin, the little cabin they had kept here for an occasional getaway. Holding the flowers in their aprons, smiling at him as he rocked on the porch at the end of the day. Kirsten of the wind-blown hair and flashing smile, the happy one. Teresa with the quick retort and shake of the head when he did something she didn’t like. Andrea who had brought him love at the end, bringing him back to life one last time.
But he couldn't afford to grieve yet. He had to get to the river. The river where his children, and grand-children, and great-grandchildren, had played for so many years, while he fought among the stars.
Mixed in with the paintbrush and the bluebonnet were patches of clover, although the color was lighter than the blood-red he remembered. How the children had loved to pick clover,
looking for the four-leaf variety, never finding one, so loud, so excited, crouching in the grass, looking up at him and asking questions. The tears started then, and his chin quivered.
He fell. Pushing himself up, he looked. The trees were close...maybe twenty-five meters. He got up and stumbled, toward the muddy, slow-moving river he knew was just ahead. Entering the tree line, he walked across the oak leaves, a carpet covering the soil, muffling his footsteps. Soon he passed into pine.
"This is more like it," he said out loud. "When we were here, this was mostly pine. The oaks were further north. I guess they moved south a bit."
He felt the ground start to fall away, and he knew he was getting close. Bumping into trees, he wiped tears from his eyes, as best he could. Before him the bank sloped down to the water, which flowed gently along, burbling just a bit - a quiet, strong river. On the riverbank, he stopped, turned, looked back, through the edge of the forest, out to the meadow and the flowers, the paintbrush and bluebonnets, the clover, just as he remembered. Slowly he went to his knees on the ground. "I'm here, guys," he whispered. He remained there for a few seconds, kneeling, feeling the strength fading out, like wine running out of a broken bottle. He could hold himself up no longer. He lay down gently on the ground, feeling the pine needles beneath him. He could smell the pine sap from the trees. He felt his heart giving up. He smiled, and his happiness covered him like a warm blanket. He felt ghosts around him, kind and loving ghosts, waiting for him to finish a long journey.
"I'm home, ladies," he whispered again. "I'm home, my sweet babies. I'm back with you at last."
EARLY DAYS OF THE RIM
Taken from the Orion Arm RimWiki, 2675 Edition
Aeolian Empire
The Aeolian Empire is a star nation centered on the Planet Aeolis, in the Beehive Cluster (M44), 580 light years from Earth. Aeolis was originally populated by approximately 200 humans abducted from Earth by the Machine Ship Darwin around 750 BC and transported to Aeolis, where they were abandoned after Darwin lost interest in his bottleneck experiment. The small population survived and prospered, and eventually grew to a star nation of some 129 colonized planets (as of 2675).
Imprint of War Page 22