Imprint by Eden Redd & Erik Weir

Kade Mercer is a Gen-1 human, rare, valuable, and best left forgotten.

When a simple salvage job on the rim turns up a wrecked ship and impossible cargo, Kade finds himself tied to a rogue synth and two women who were never meant to wake up.

Someone experimented with something they should not have.
Someone erased the proof.
And now everyone wants what survived.

Hunted by factions that do not miss, chased through storms and shadows, Kade must decide how far he is willing to go to protect people whose fate is tangled with his own.

Because whatever was done to them was not finished.

Imprint is a fast-paced sci-fi adventure of forbidden technology, dangerous attraction, and bonds forged under fire.

Word count: 49,700

One

“Mercer, I got a job for you,” came through the speaker.

I sat back, my head comfortably resting against the headrest. I had a drink in my hand, the incredible Bubba-Drink that soothes the nerves when you’re doing nothing. Fade was on auto-pilot. I was living the dream. But a job? Now? During Me time? No glow.

I tapped a few buttons on the control panel. A hologram of the number of scrips in my personal account glowed a few inches above the panel. Let’s just say, I was so low, old-world alligators would be licking their chops to take a nibble from my toes. It wasn’t great, and I let out a frustrated growl. I slipped my drink can into its holder, sat up, and stared at the wrap around screen above the panel.

My finger hovered over the comms channel. An uncomfortable feeling sank deep down in my heart, telling me this was going to splicing hurt. I guess that’s why they call it a living.

I pressed down on the button.

“Jasper, how are the kids?” I said with such a tone that my mouth twitched as I smiled.

“Eating me out of house and home. I would sell off one or two, but the wives said no,” Jasper replied.

I nodded, pretending to listen. “How many now?”

“Eighteen. I’m thinking of getting an operation,” Jasper said in a tiny moment of honesty.

“That’s rough,” I said.

The banter was typical between us. He always complained about the same things each time I took a job from him. I didn’t feel too bad for him. He knew what he signed up for when he married a pair of Gen-34s. The thirty-fours are pious, sex and baby crazed gens. They have these weird things about them, always worrying about populations among all the Gen branches.

“Yeah. So, are you going to take a job?” Jasper said all business-like.

Glitch. Talking on the job was a perk. I often floated along the rim, wondering where I would go next. But with scrips so low, I had to fill up the account. Fuel costs kill me. Seeing all my scrips drain away is heartbreaking, but when Fade is full of fuel, she’s happy. And when my ship is happy, I’m happy.

I padded the control panel. I could sense Fade was in a good mood. Maybe this job won’t be that bad?

“Yeah, I’ll take it. What’s the data?”

“Sending it to you now. Look it over before you commit. This needs to be completed, ASAP.”

I looked at the main screen as data populated it. I didn’t have any fancy implants to help condense data into instant knowledge. By most Gen standards, I was a slow relic, if they knew who I truly was.

After a moment, I locked on the last bit of data. It was a salvage job, but with credit steps depending on the specific cargo-salvage I collected and brought back to them. It was a science vessel salvage, which usually pays very well. They wanted someone to pick up just three stasis pods. Depending on how intact each one was, the scrips would go up. I looked it over again. Holy Genotype, this job was paying enough for me to retire for months. Years if I knew how to handle my scrips, which I didn’t, so yeah, there was that.

“If this is so important, why is this even a job? Those corpos have enough equipment and scrips to fly a dozen ships to pick up the salvage?”

“Kade, I don’t ask too many questions with most jobs. The only thing they told me was this was under the scanner, if you know what I mean? You’re the best ghost-salvager I know, and you deserve the scrips, minus my modest percentage. In and out. Deliver the cargo, don’t ask any questions, fly off and we both profit from it. We synced?”

I stared at the screen. I can always use the scrips. Maybe a vacation on one of those pleasure moons? It’s been a while.

I felt Fade press against my mind. I think she was jealous of my thoughts. It’s too weird to explain now, but I am sure I will explain later, maybe.

“We synced,” I said with greedy dread.

“Alright, all systems green here. Sending you coordinates. Keep your slipstream clean,” Jasper said.

“You too,” I said and turned off the comm.

Salvage jobs are always a sliding scale of easy to brutal. This appeared to be something simple. Get the three pods and get out. So why was my gut rumbling at me? Maybe I was hungry? Or maybe, I’m biting off more than I can chew?

I tapped away at the panel and inputted the coordinates. Scanners indicated a small slipstream within range. I locked on as the pilot-stick stabbed up between my legs. I took hold and began steering toward the slipstream as the engine-drive primed.

“Time to make some scrips,” I said as Fade turned into the stream.

I watched and waited as we drifted into the invisible slipstream. I pulled back a small lever as the engines powered on and I felt tiny vibrations pulsing through my body. I watched the scanners as a hole formed in space with a glowing ring. The engines flashed with power as Fade shot forward into the slipstream.

Streams of particle light slipped past the screen as I sat back, one hand on the stick. I could have put it back on auto-pilot, but nnaaa, I liked this more. Just riding the particle streams in the massive void of space. Nothing like it.

This job will be a ghost-walk. I’m sure nothing bad will happen. Right?

Two

I pulled power from the slipstream drive. I moved the stick to the left, Fade emerging from the slipstream and slowed into normal space. I tapped at a few keys, increasing my scanner range into pulses. It worked like ancient sonar, back in the old world. After that, Fade glided on in space, all systems nominal.

I hummed a tune as we moved through space, stars glowing in the vast distances. I always felt humbled when I looked at Night. Yeah, just like when Gen ones were on ships that floated on water, they looked at the vastness of water from horizon to horizon. For me, space is like that, only bigger. I called her Night, because she is the mistress of the void and starlight.

Oh, yeah, when you’re in space for long periods of time, you lose your mind a little. Yeah, it makes you weirder, talking to yourself. I mean, I was always like that, but without an audience, it’s nice to just let your weird flag fly. The crushing silence breaks some, and they cash out, retiring back to where they came from, or where they always liked to go. You need to have a flexible mind out here, or you would lose your ever-loving glitch in the void. And yes, she looks back at me. Maybe even blows me a kiss at times.

A blip appeared on the screen. I focused a sensor dish on that location. A ship icon glowed on the screen. Yep, right where Jasper said it would be. She was drifting in Night’s arms like a baby. If Night had a form, she would be core-hot. Just saying.

We drifted closer as the thrusters dimmed. Nice and easy. The salvage was soft-fall beautiful. I had my scanners on high. I had to not only salvage her, but I had to be on high-alert for any other scavengers or raiders. The gens out here can be a little unstable. Rim-life was difficult for everyone, but with very little of the Gene Dominion troopers out here, it was kill or be killed at times. Never can be too careful.

When Fade was close enough, I pressed a key on the stick. A pair of twin cables fired from our portside and clamped onto the Fire Fox. At least, that was the name on the file. When you’re out here, you tend to run into the same kind of ships often. I can’t explain it, but ship names are often lodged into my noggin. It’s like meeting a core-hot gen, and never forgetting her name. I’m not saying I see ships as beautiful women, but I’m not not saying that either.

A green light blipped on the screen. With cables secured, it was time to go for a walk.

I put Fade in charge as I stood up, and stepped away from the cockpit. I glanced at my knee-length coat on a peg. It had a silver metal spine along the back, armor plates on the shoulders and different plates along the coat. Her name is Patchframe, and she is my other half. Never go anywhere without her. I picked her off the peg, slipped my arms into the wide sleeves, and pulled it open in front of a small screen built on the metal wall. Patchframe was fully charged and ready to go to work.

I opened the cockpit door and made my way down the corridor. I built Fade and Patchframe from whatever I could salvage since I was a teen. When you want to talk about nerding out to ships, systems, and engineering, that’s all Me. I have been building things since I began to walk, or so I tell myself. Metal, wires, robotics, computers, yeah, that was all me. Fade and Patchframe are my babies, best friends, and family. Fade doesn’t even look the same when I put her together. She was nothing more than a cockpit and an engine. She got me off the ground and into Night’s arms. It took years to get her to what she is now, and I loved every moment I was in her wires, or patching metal plates to her hull. I can almost feel her spirit, her moods. She is alive to me, and I will always take care of her.

I reached the portside air-lock. I touched the button on the side door panel. The thick doors slid open. I stepped into the airlock and the doors closed.

This was often the noisy part. I slammed my right hand against the coat-plate on the side of my thigh. There was a loud whirl and click. My long coat suctioned to my body. The metal spine suctioned to my back. Along my chest, strips of different colored metals emerged. They connected, forming a robust multi dark-colored metal chest patchwork. More metal plates slipped out of my coat, moving over me, encasing my body in many three-inch-wide metal strips. Exo-skeleton brackets ran along my arms and legs. They sealed shut with curved metal plates. Smaller metal plates covered my neck, and crawled to the top of my head, and edges of my face. A dark visor slid down over my eyes, sealing it. I was slowly lifted as the plates along my legs made me a little wider. My armored boots were integrated in the power-armor suit. They always made me taller as my boots were reinforced. Nano-bots worked to seal me in, and connect systems.

I looked at my reflection in the airlock window. I looked like a metal mummified Frankenstein. My strength, dexterity, and toughness were greatly enhanced. I had a nano-rebreathing system that could produce oxygen for as long as I had power. I had a twin power cell in the spine, with enough power to keep me alive in the suit for about forty-eight cycles. If I wanted, I could punch holes into ship hulls. Not that I would. I mean I could, but I wouldn’t.

“Fade, route my equipment to the portside airlock,” I said over comms.

I waited for a moment, before a large panel opened to the right. I stepped closer to it. A rod-like item was across the top. I pulled it free and checked it. It was my Arc Cutter. It was like a giant welder torch I can use to cut, or weld metal pieces. I often use it to get through metal hulls, or repair Fade’s hull. It was fully charged. I put it over my shoulder and it connected to my back, next to my pulse thrusters. I then reached for my rail-driver pistol. It uses magnetic accelerator rounds to help patch my ship, or shoot nine-inch slugs through anyone who messes with me. I pushed it into its magnetic holder on my belt.

I pulled off my fold-blade. It looked like a large knife, but can fold upwards into a long blade. The edge was atom sharp. It can get me out of tough spots. It can slice clean through most things, but leaves a terrible mess through salvage pirates. Only happened twice, but the moments live on in my head. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought.

I pulled off a metal gauntlet and put it over my armored left hand. It sealed onto my hand and arm. I looked it over. It was my grav-tether gauntlet. When you’re working on rigs in space, you must have one of these. It creates a graviton pulse when you aim it at something. There is a nano-spool that is connected to it. You can either shoot it as a place and move toward it, or you can aim it as a person, or piece of equipment, and bring it to you. The tensile strength of the nano-wire is strong enough to pull a small ship. As for the danger of being cut in half on the job is minimal. The spool is programmed to break instantly off for designated equipment and personnel. I can also command it to snap, if I need to. I really should put the safeties back on with this, but out here, you use every edge at your disposal.

And finally, I pull off my multi-tool belt. It is full of various cutting, cable spools, and other tools I may need for a job. I put the belt on. It snapped together on its own and connected with Patchframe.

I was ready.

“Open the outer airlock,” I said.

A red light flashed as air was released until there was none. The door slid open, exposing me to pure vacuum. I disengaged my magnetic hold from my boots, and we floated out. My pulse thrusters glowed along my back, and I was moving.

The magic of stepping into the void has never lost its luster. The gravity of my ship faded away and I was weightless. My HUD glowed with information like my inner suit parameters and bio scans, but I only focused on Night, and the long ship floating next to my ship. There were no words for the exhilaration I felt. Good comes to mind.

I focused on the Fire Fox. She was long, with smooth oval bumps along her hull. She was in great shape, largely untouched, except for that large hole in the side of her. They just don’t make ships like they used to. Those sleek designs may look good, but they weren’t strong enough to withstand certain kinds of impacts from space debris. Sure, they had amazing shield power, but if you rely on only shields, you risk everything if the power goes out.

As I glided toward her, I turned off my pulse thrusters and free fell. I spun around slowly, looking at Fade. She was ugly, with mis-matched hull plates, a thick neck, and a two-prong bow. She had half-folded wings on her side, making her look like a furious, short-necked goose, or a fat hawk. Either way, she was all mine. She is a collection of everything I could find and use to get her space-worthy, plus many add-ons.

I spun around and turned on my pulse thrusters again. I flew straight to the Fire Fox, only slowing down when I reached the breach. I hovered before it, touching the metal edges that protruded outward. I checked my scans. The metal received a tremendous amount of stress, pieces breaking off the edges. As I investigated, I could see some of the metal edges were warped, but not from an implosion.

If the hull was weak, or fractured, the implosion would have blown outward only. My scans indicated that the hull around the hole bent in, and then out. Considering burn marks, and previous experience, an explosive device was placed on her, and set off during transit. This would have caused a controlled demolition, and the resulting explosion turned into an implosion. Pretty good work, if an engineer wasn’t looking at it. In my line of work, you see this occasionally. There are many ships in the history of exploration that had a bad bit of equipment or faulty hull plate. There are silent graveyards of ships after battles. Space is dangerous, but we keep coming up here, thinking it will never happen to us, until it does. It’s why Fade is so juicy-big. If our shields went out, she could take a hit. She can also knock you down and sit on your chest. Well, we should get on from my fantasies and go back to work.

The breach was much bigger than me in Patchframe. Good. Didn’t have to cut in, but if I am using a cable, I better make sure we don’t get cut on the way out. I pull my arc-cutter. The rod extended as one end flashed with glowing power. I survived by playing it safe at times. Plus, I loved cutting or melting metal. I pressed the glowing end to the metal. I melted the edge of the breach into smooth, pliable metal. I ran the arc cutter around the breach, melting it until it was smooth. When I was finished, I turned off my cutter and put it behind me. It attached to my back, and I let go. Now with smooth edges, I pulsed in nice and slow.

On the inside, I pulled two small disks from my belt. I put them on the insides of the breach. When I was finished, I would have to cover my tracks with a small explosion. The placement should help it look like a real implosion; just in case anyone combs over this ship.

I floated in as bits of debris hovered before me. I reached a corridor, only emergency lights glowing. In a hundred years the lights may dim to nothing, but right now, they were a huge help. I glanced at the side of my HUD. It was working, trying to re-map the insides of the ship. It took time, depending on the ship, so I floated along the corridor like a monster in the dark.

I spotted an open door, a figure curled along it, his upper body aimed at the breach. I floated closer. He was bloated, and well, not looking great. He looked like he was frozen in a silent scream. I doubt it. It wasn’t like those old movies, the characters trying to hold on when there was a breach in a wall, or an open airlock. If there is a breach on a ship, you will barely know what happened if you were close to it. Either instantly sucked out into Night’s embrace, or your lungs would explode as every drop of air was pulled from them.

I grabbed him by the hair and a light glowed like a flashlight on my shoulder. Even with my armored hands, the nano-connections allow me to feel up to ninety-eight percent of a Gen’s touch. Mr. Corpse had long, blonde hair. I managed to see what was left of their eyes, seeing a lot of blue. The pale skin only added that he was a Gen-24, otherwise called Soreins. Highly empathetic, they also create a calm dampening pheromone. Anyone within five feet of them feels much better, and calmer. Those gens are often in medical fields, ready to help the universe.

I spotted his name tag. Medical Officer Vellun Shade. Sorry Vellun. Not your lucky day. At least it was quick.

There was a beep. I glanced at a mini-map at the side of my visor. The ship was big. It will take me days to search it like this. I wish I had the time. I know Jasper. When he gave me the job, and there is a general call for this job, other fixers are going to put it out there. It looks like I was going to have to speed up the search.

I picked up a small pod from my belt. I opened it to reveal three, flat disks within.

“Locate any and all stasis pods,” I inform them.

The three disks slip out of the pod. They float before me, tiny jets from their edges leveling them before my visor. They were my tiny flying saucers. They were like normal drones, just smaller. These three had strong scanning abilities, and a laser to cut through things. They should make this a little easier.

I watched the little saucers whizz off in different directions. I had to wait, but I could still investigate the ship. Maybe I’ll find something else of value to salvage? The equipment I see so far is only space touched. I’m sure I can use a bunch of this to upgrade Fade’s systems. I know that she worries about her engine. It’s her beating heart.

I stopped in my tracks.

Fuel.

There must be so much. They’re not going to use it. Shame to let it go to waste.

I turn, seeing the direction I need to go to reach the engine room. My pulse thrusters propel me as I float down long corridors.

After a few turns, I reached the engine room. Debris and bodies floated around. Damn, no one made it. Terrible tragedy. I hope someone remembers them.

I pulsed down to the fuel tanks and Catalite containment. When I reached the main tanks, I touched it with my armored hand. Data crunched on my visor until a percentage appeared, blinking to my greedy gaze.

All starships run on two kinds of fuel. Reactor-Grade Plasma Medium, or RGPM for short, is a high-density liquid energetic compound that reacts with a ship’s arc-core chamber to produce thrust via ionized plasma thrusters. It is mined from gas giants, and condensed into a liquid fuel. Out on the rim, we call it Fluxburn. For local space, it can get you around pretty quick, and a full tank will last a few months to a year, depending on how much you use. Simple travel, you can hop from system to system. Ship to ship fighting and maneuvers, depending on how long the fight is, maybe under a month. You only worry when your tanks are at five percent. It will take you a while to reach places at sub-light, but it is only one half of a two-fuel system.

Catalite is a dense, highly stable crystal. It’s found in deep core planets with high gravity belts. It’s so stable, I could shoot it with one of those plasma weapons the Dominion likes to use, and it wouldn’t explode. It’s a white crystal with some purple veins in it. But this is what brings the magic together.

A slipstream drive runs on both. You break the crystal and feed it into the fuel through a special hatch. When a ship is ready to slipstream, the drive opens a hole to a slipstream. The engines burn the Catalite in the fluxburn. It supercharges the engines to the point you’re blasted into the slipstream. When you enter, you ride it much faster than the speed of light because gravity bends space time. Yeah, it’s complicated, but it works. And now, I have enough fluxburn to fill Fade’s tanks and have plenty left over.

I turn to the containment section. I glance down at a key-code lock. Someone has been stealing from them. Naughty, naughty. I grab the lock and crush it. With a quick pull, the lock shattered as bits of metal floated away. I opened the containment cubes. Much to my delight, each cube had a crystal. There was enough Catalite for me to go from one side of the known territories to the other. Don’t get me wrong, constant slipstream travel wears on the engine and slipstream drive, but not Fade. I built her for stamina and distance. I also like to tool around with her drive when I’m bored, which is most of the time. But anyway, this was a platinum mine in fuel. What I don’t use, I could sell for extra scrips.

A beep distracted me from my scheming. One of my saucers has located the triple power source in a locked room. The drone burned its way in through the door, and was now sending me video. The chamber is intact. No one was inside when things were blown out of proportions. Vid filled my eyes as three stasis containers were against a wall, bodies inside. I couldn’t see past the frosted glass, but yep, there were three of them.

I’m going to get paid. I’m going to get paid really well. Splice yeah, so exciting.

I directed the drone to stay there, and sent the other two to its location.

I recorded the coordinates in Patchframe, when an alert filled my visor. Sigh. Fade sent me sensor readings, showing me there was a ship approaching. The configuration belonged to the Maraud Suns. They are scavengers and marauders. The worst kind of gens you ever want to come across.

A timer appeared at the corner of my HUD. I had nineteen minutes before they arrived. I just wanted to do my job, and now the clock was running. I better not glitch out.