Sure enough, the Federation refuse hauler C43 jumped into Malifa 4 orbit precisely at 9:42 AM. Jolo and the old Argossy were waiting.
He had Katy position the Argossy directly in front of the huge hauler.
“I’m here for your ship,” said Jolo over the comm, leaning back in his chair. He had to admit, the old seat was firmer, and softer in the right places, than the Jessica’s Fed issue vinylite chair that made his legs sore.
The old trash boat captain laughed. “In that?” he said, and continued to wind up his engines for the jump to Iris.
“Koba, show him the guns,” said Jolo. The two ion cannons popped out and suddenly the Argossy wasn’t just a transport anymore. For good measure, Jolo fired a shot over the hauler’s right thruster, close enough for the old C43 to raise shields.
And now Jolo laughed into the comm. “Next time I won’t miss. If you attempt to reach Fed HQ in Sol you’ll be dead before they respond.”
The captain of the refuse ship was no hero, and who could blame him. He was on the low end of the Federation pay grade and he never actually had been trained on how to defend against a pirate attack. No pirate had ever thought to commandeer a trash boat.
Soon, Jolo and Katy were in the tiny cockpit of the hauler, with Greeley and George in the empty, yet pungent, cargo hold. The captain of the smelly boat had gotten riled up when Jolo told him to climb into the tiny escape pod, but he sucked in his gut and latched himself in when he realized the other option was infiltrating the Corsair, an act of high treason.
……
"How do I look," said Katy, just before they jumped into Iris. All Federation work crew had to wear regulation coveralls. Again, Marco had proven most resourceful, outfitting Jolo and Katy with Federation trash hauler uniforms. Greeley and George were sporting dapper Federation service crew suits: black tails and white gloves. Jolo worried they might stand out a little bit too much. But then again, in the end, the job was to create some chaos in the upper levels. All they had to do was get there, to the ballroom or the art gallery.
"Yes, you look fine," said Jolo, as another shiny boat jumped out.
"Remember," Katy said. "Usually, trash haulers have one captain and no crew. So when they scan us I'm gonna say you're a ride along on a training run."
"Got it. Don't worry." Jolo opened the hatch that led to the refuse cargo hold. A horrible stench rose out of the hole. "You boys all right down there?" said Jolo.
Twenty feet down at the bottom of the hold a tall muscular waiter, and a thinner one-armed waiter, stood at the bottom, staring up at Jolo. George was unfazed by the odor, but Greeley had a sour look on his face. He was using a breather, but it didn't seem to matter. He pulled the breather away from his face. "Just get me out of here as soon as possible," he whispered. His voice echoed into the cockpit. Katy leaned down and told them all to be quiet.
Two Federation gunboats were waiting the moment they jumped into Iris. Katy didn't have to hail them, they were on the comm immediately.
"Refuse hauler C43 this is Federation gunboat Fitzgerald, what are your key codes for this run?"
Katy had taped the keycode document to the small port screen. She rattled off a 16 digit alphanumeric code and the gunboat captain told her to wait.
They sat there quietly, the giant ship in the background, shiny and regal, blotting out all else. Jolo watched Katy out of the corner of his eye. She was fidgety and nervous, tapping her hand on her thigh. He reached out, put his hand over hers.
"You're doing fine. You look great.”
Just then the gunboat came back on the comm. "Okay C43, you’re clear. Make it snappy. We got dignitaries coming."
Jolo nudged Katy. “Ask them who’s coming?”
Katy paused a moment in thought. “A lot of company today, or the usual?”
“Just take out the trash, C43. We’ll take care of the guests. I see you have a ride-along. Fed guidelines state all passengers must be signed in at ops on level V.”
“Yessir,” Katy said, “he’s in training.” She let out a deep breath, then headed to the bottom of the giant ship, expertly docking to the Corsair.
When docked, the nose of the hauler was level with the ground floor of level V so Jolo could see the man in the control room through the port screen. “Ya’ll got some coffee in there?” Jolo said. The man held up his cup and waved for him to come. So Jolo climbed out of the boat and headed to ops.
He strolled into the tiny room, two older Fed employees manning the control board, and poured himself a cup. He sat down in a chair, leaned back and took a long sip, all the while eyeing the comm button on the board. It was green.
“You must be new, huh?” said the man with the coffee cup. “I’m supposed to sign you in all official.”
“Yep,” said Jolo. “First and last run.” Then he stood up, took a final swig of the coffee, pulled out his gun and put it to the closest man’s head, then turned off the comm. “Either of you touch anything on the board and I’ll kill, uh…” Jolo leaned over to check the patch on the man’s light brown coverall. Kwditzercdhiekcik. “I’ll kill Kwa—, uh, Kwud—, uh…” Jolo looked at the other man’s patch: Smith. He pointed the gun at Smith. “I’ll kill Smith.”
By the time Katy walked in Jolo had Smith and Kwditzercdhiekcik tied up and sitting in a corner. Just then Greeley and George strolled in.
"You boys ready to party?" said Jolo.
"Don't ever hole me up in a giant toilet bowl again," said Greeley.
“I suppose you won’t be making a return trip, then?” said George, patting Greeley on the back.
Jolo looked at the computer screen and checked the days’ activities. "There's going to be a luncheon in the art gallery on level IV at 11:15," said Jolo, pointing to the activity list on the port screen. That's your window. "The kitchen is on level I. So I’d go there first because they'll be carrying food up to level IV."
Greeley smiled and patted the inside of his jacket. He had a small arsenal of gas grenades and specially designed explosives made to sound big and create smoke but to do as little structural damage as possible. The shiny end of Betsy, his sawed-off shotgun, poked out under his jacket, but he held his arm down at his side to cover it up.
"We’re fine," said George. "Good luck with the drive."
“What about the dignitaries?” said Katy.
George tilted his head and Greeley stopped fondling the handle of the shotgun. “Who’s comin’?” said Greeley.
“Don’t know. Stick to the plan,” said Jolo.
Greeley turned to the two men on the floor. “Who’s comin’?”
They both shrugged.
He pulled Betsy out and rubbed the short barrel end along Smith’s face. “Captain, they holdin’ back. Supposin’ I make an example so’s the other’n’ll spill it.”
“Sure, go ahead,” said Jolo, watching the two mens’ reaction carefully.
Greeley’s eyes lit up and the two ops workers started talking, but neither knew anything. Jolo held his hand up and Greeley backed off. Trash haulers and level V ops don’t get no info. Though one thing Smith said stuck with Jolo: a marine team had come through thirty minutes earlier and done a security sweep.
“This don’t feel right, Jolo,” said Katy. She looked at George for support.
“He don’t have hunches and such,” said Greeley.
“That is correct. I simply weigh the odds based on current data,” said George.
“So what do you think?” said Katy.
“Not enough data,” said George.
“We stick to the plan,” said Jolo. And that ended it. "All we need to do is get the drive, only one level up. We have an hour and 42 minutes until the refuse hauler has to go. I don't think anyone's gonna miss these boys down here, but someone’s gonna come around if the ship doesn't leave within two hours. Remember, do not engage. Just make some bang bang, then get out. There’s a large trash chute on IV that will send you right back down here.”
Everyone nodded.
&
nbsp; “Uh, wait a minute there. I just thought o’ sumthin’ that don’t check out,” said Greeley. “How’s me and wonderboy here supposed to hide in the trash hauler if it’s full o’ shite?”
“Don’t worry,” said Katy. “I didn’t connect the exit hose to the ship. The container is clean.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it clean,” said Greeley.
"Okay, lets do this," said Jolo.
George and Greeley eased out into the corridor first, wearing their Fed issue waiter uniforms. Jolo and Katy headed down to engineering soon after.
Jolo pulled up the Corsair’s floor schematic on his computer and took them straight to the closest elevator under the engineering wing. They walked the white halls of the big ship and for the first few moments didn’t see anyone. Katy walked quietly, her eyes darting from one corner to the next. “Remember, you belong here,” whispered Jolo. “You are an engineer aboard the Corsair.” She took a deep breath.
Jolo wondered if bringing her was a mistake. He didn’t want her to get hurt. Greeley had the thrill of combat and BG bloodlust on his mind to keep him calm. George was strangely too calm all the time. And Jolo, what was he? This is what he did well. This made him feel alive. This would get him closer to Jaylen. Get the drive and get Jaylen.
The doors to the elevator opened and there was an officer standing inside. Katy froze, but Jolo just smiled. The officer scowled. “Well, are you going to get out of my way?” he said in a huff.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Jolo in a calm, measured voice.
The officer brushed past both of them then barked a sharp command over his shoulder: “Follow me, there’s an issue on the level IV light array system in the ballroom which can be accessed by--” The officer’s back was to them and Jolo pulled out his gun and yelled, “Stop!”
The officer spun around sharply. “Do not speak to your superior in that—!” But his words were cut off because Jolo’s gun was aimed at his face.
A few moments later Jolo and Katy entered the elevator, the officer safely tucked into a bathroom stall near the ops room. “You look dashing, Commander Swisher,” said Katy.
“Thank you,” said Jolo, straightening his jacket.
They entered the engineering room and three black-suited mechanics jumped to attention when they saw the Commander’s uniform enter. Jolo pulled up the Fed inspection protocol on his computer. “This is an emergency Code 5 inspection. Report to the head immediately!” Jolo yelled in a loud, commanding voice.
They train them well, thought Jolo, as all three engineers squeezed into the tiny one-man head. Jolo stood in the doorway of the tiny bathroom, shaking his head side to side. This was why we got our asses handed to us by the BG.
Then one engineer spoke. “Sir, begging your pardon, sir. But why are we in the head?”
“Inspection!” yelled Commander Jolo.
“Yessir.”
“Where’s the chief?”
“He was called away.” That’s odd, thought Jolo. Fed regulations clearly stated a chief be in engineering at all times.
“Is there a comm in the head?” Jolo asked. “You better answer correctly or you’ll fail the inspection and get duty servicing refuse haulers.”
“No comm in the head,” the brave engineer said.
“Does this door lock from the outside?”
“Yessir, top right.”
“One more inspection question. Give me an example of hazmat emergency that would lock down the engineering wing but not have the marines busting down our door.”
“Sir, are you really a commander?”
“No, son.” He pulled out his gun. “I’m actually a captain. I’m Jolo Vargas.”
They all pushed further back into the head, each of them fighting for position, as if Jolo was going to eat one of them.
“Now I need to shut down engineering, but it has to be done quietly.”
One said containment leak, but then the others shot that down because they’d have to evacuate the entire ship. Finally, they decided on air filters. They’d have to lock down the engineering wing if they were cleaning the filtration system. So Jolo had the brave engineer call command and report a dead rat was discovered in the main engineering vent shaft and they’d have to clean the filters out.
Once that was done, Jolo locked them back in the head and had the room to himself. Then he and Katy located the drive. Even though he already knew the dimensions, the thing was big. He pulled up the drive extraction protocol and got to work.
Ten minutes later George reported in. Marco had given Jolo a tiny comm that linked straight into George’s internal computer.
“Captain, something’s not right. They’re evacuating the ship. The ball has been canceled. We barely got by a marine team clearing the upper levels.”
“Who’s coming?”
“I don’t know.” Jolo could hear Greeley yelling in the background. “Captain, Greeley went to the observation deck and just saw three cruisers and the Emperor’s ship jump in. We got some Fed Defenders also. I think the Emperor and the President are meeting here today. That’s why they’re clearing the ship.”
“Roger that.”
“Are we still on?”
“Yeah, hang tight near the trash chute and stay out of trouble.”
Jolo took a deep breath. Less passengers. But more marine teams. And the BG mechs. He wasn’t giving up. Get the drive. Get Jaylen.
“Katy, how’s it coming?” he yelled over to Katy, who was beating on a large spanner with a dead blow hammer.
“It ain’t!” she yelled. “This thing’s not made to come out.”
Just then the unmistakable electronic hiss of a BG voice synthesizer came over the comm. “Engineering, report in immediately!”
Katy stood up, her eyes big. She dropped the spanner.
“Engineering,” said Jolo into the comm.
“The Emperor’s guard detail will perform a security check momentarily. I pray you fools have not forgotten your access codes. Who is this?”
Jolo paused. He had one good option and he went for it. “This is Commander Swisher, no need for a security check, or your attitude. Engineering is fine. We are in lockdown. If you must, you can check after.”
“The Emperor will not wait. Especially since I’ve just found a man locked in a storage room claiming to be Commander Vincent Swisher.”
Jolo swallowed hard, reached up under his arm and felt the hard wood handle of the Colt. He looked over to Katy and smiled.
“He’s an impostor. We’ll need a few more minutes to swap the filters. Swisher out.”
It was the best he could have done. Now what? The options were getting fewer by the moment. Katy still had that wide-eyed frozen-stare thing going. And then her head swung towards the main entrance door to engineering: the heavy, mechanical CHUNK CHUNK CHUNK of a BG warrior reverberated through the halls of the Corsair, and getting louder.
Suddenly there was a BOOM! and the heavy door that led into engineering, a door that was designed to protect the engines from outside attack, was bent inwards in the middle. Dust and bits of metal fell down from the supports on either end.
Jolo pulled out his gun and strolled to the center of the room. He looked over at the door holding the engineers, fired one shot at the tiny outer lock and out spilled the three men in black coveralls.
“No time to argue,” said Jolo. “The BG are coming and they aren’t going to play nice. You have to hide. Now!”
Another bone jarring boom and the door was now bent into a cone shape. The edges had pulled away from the wall and through the gap Jolo could see the shiny black mechanical legs of at least two warriors.
“Run!” yelled Jolo. He grabbed the brave one from earlier. “If you want to live, find a hiding place. And take her with you,” he said, pointing to Katy. Jolo nodded at Katy and she ran towards the rear of the room where the energy core fed into the main engines, and following the engineer, crawled under a heat shield, heading deeper into the Corsair’s engine, where
only smaller humans could fit.
One more blast and the door, now a strange cone-shaped piece of broken metal, flew into the room, sparks spraying out as it slammed against a logic array on the far wall. Two BG stepped inside, bending down so their heads did not hit the ceiling. One of the engineers ran to them.
“No!” Jolo screamed. But he didn’t listen.
“It was him,” the engineer yelled, pointing at Jolo. But the closest BG swatted him away like a bug. The man flew across the room and bounced off the jump drive, slid to a stop and did not move—a trail of blood on the white floor.
Jolo stepped back towards the center of the room where the ceiling opened up forming a giant heat vent 50 meters high with logic arrays and control boards lining the inner rings.
Jolo’s mouth went dry as he slowly eased back under the heat riser. He momentarily held the gun in his left so he could wipe his right on the commander’s pants. It was a calculated risk, and the two warriors did not strike at that opportunity, but continued to flank him. Just like his last moments on the Jessica, Jolo’s thoughts turned to Jaylen. She was there, always there in his mind. She spoke to him without a word, her large brown eyes—come to me, she seemed to say.
Jolo could not take them both at the same time, especially coming from two opposite angles. So he took a few steps to put one between himself and the jump drive. As soon as he raised the gun both of the black mechanical beasts turned on their force fields. The air tingled and hummed around them. Each step, every subtle movement, a whirring, spinning drone of actuators and gears, amplified by the buzzing electric field surrounding them. They each stepped in time, closing the distance on the frail human with the tiny ancient weapon.
The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Box Set Page 16
