“Captain, we cain’t be leaving none behind to squawk about our whereabouts and such,” said Greeley, stepping forward aggressively, Betsy pointed at the man’s head.
“That’s right. Jolo Vargas ain’t one to take prisoners,” said Jolo, rubbing his chin.
“And he is one low-down sumbitch!” said Greeley, getting into his role, though a bit off-script, eyes all lit up. Jolo gave Greeley a quick, raised eyebrows, please-shut-up look.
“Yes, yes, he is,” continued Jolo, steering the dialogue back on course. “He’s got a synth brain that don't care much for humanly emotion and such.” And then he eyed Greeley. “Why he'd just as soon have one of his brainless, knuckle-draggin' henchmen do his dirty work for him.” And then it was Greeley's turn to give Jolo a look. Then Jolo pointed the Colt at the man. “Tell me, what was in the black box and I'll let you live for a little while longer.”
The crewman was on his knees now, stammering and slobbering. “I’m sorry,” he said with a shaky voice. “They don’t tell us what’s inside.”
“Where’d you pick up the box?” said Jolo.
“I don’t know,” said the man, then his head jerked up. “Might’ve got it in Corpus 2. There was a brief, unscheduled stop there, put us behind a few hours.”
Jolo was convinced the man didn’t know, in fact, he felt sorry for him.
“What happened when the BG boat came?”
“They said they were getting close for support. But then they opened up on us. We knew their guns were hot, but thought it was because they were going to protect us. We lost the captain and pretty much everyone else.”
“Captain, I think he’s holding out on the black box info. I’m gonna wing him once or twice and see if it don’t jog his memory a little,” said Greeley.
The woman watched her would-be protector, the freighter man, start to blubber and cry, his earlier burst of angry defiance now faded, still rubbing his hand. His broken weapon on the floor at his feet.
She walked up to Jolo, blue dress, pretty face and long brown hair. She put her hand on his shoulder, “Does a synth-man have all the requisite parts?” Her fingers glided down his arm and she held his hand. “I could make it worth your while if you let us go.”
Jolo was speechless. But Greeley was sold. “Ma’am, I have the requisites!” he said, stepping forward. But the woman was still staring at Jolo.
“Exactly who do you think I am?” said Jolo.
“You are Jolo Vargas. And I don’t want to die,” she said.
Jolo couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m not here to kill anyone,” he said, but he could tell she didn’t believe him. Suddenly, he was deflated.
“Perhaps the synth doesn’t have what it takes,” she said.
“Naw, he don’t. But I do!,” said Greeley, smiling.
Jolo looked at the woman in wonder. She was stronger than the freighter man, willing to trade herself for her life. It saddened Jolo that she would think so little of him. He holstered the Colt. The game was over. They didn’t know about the box.
“Perry Como or Dean Martin?” he said.
“Huh?” she said, tilting her head.
“The song.”
“Oh. Perry.”
“1954, by old Earth reckoning.”
“If you are going to kill us, then get on with it.”
Just then Katy called on the comm. “Jolo, we got three scouts and a few larger boats that just popped into the sector. We gotta go now.”
“If you want,” Jolo said to the woman, “I’ll take y’all off this dead boat. There are some other boats coming.”
She just looked at him. “Please just take what you want and go, Synth. We are not fools. The ships are here for our rescue.”
“I hope so.”
Jaxxon
On the planet Duval
Bertha was the queen of the large house made of clay and wood that sat just outside of Jaxxon. It was low slung and open and allowed the air to flow through so the heat wasn’t so bad during the harsh summer. Marco said it was built in the old style. It housed nearly a hundred misplaced kids and mothers, and a few broken pirates, there ostensibly to help with security. But people from Duval took care of their own, the only real trouble coming from the Federation and most recently the BG.
Katy landed the Argossy on a pad near the house. Jolo had been quiet all the way back from the dead freighter. They had dodged a bullet and come away with some Fed rations. Jolo knew this was cause for celebration. The only sore spot, mainly for Greeley, was not getting the black box. Or the woman.
Jolo couldn’t speak. What was there to say? The crewman and the woman pretty much had him pegged and he couldn’t get over it. Just like Marco would say, Jolo thought, it is what it is. Finally Katy broke the silence.
“Okay. What’s up?,” she said to Jolo, who was slumped in his chair on the bridge. “You look like your dog died.”
“I’m fine,” was all he could muster.
“Aww, he’s wounded,” said Greeley.
“Wounded!” yelled Katy, and started squeezing Jolo with her hands, starting at his shoulders, moving down his arms, patting him like a medic searching for broken bones.
“Naw. Here,” said Greeley, pointing to his chest.
“I’m fine!” yelled Jolo. “Now let’s stash the goods and get gone. The Argossy needs repairs.”
Katy gave Greeley a questioning look.
“A snooty Fed woman kept callin’ him a synth and hinted he didn’t have the requisite parts,” he said.
“What?” said Katy.
“You know. A tool, a thing. A wanky wank,” he said.
“Wanky wank? Why would she say that?” and then she paused. “Wait,” Katy looked at Jolo, “You got one, right?”
Jolo just shook his head and started for the storage bay.
That night Bertha had a celebration under the stars. The air was cool and dry and Jolo sat with Katy and Bertha on the long porch steps of the big house. Hurley, Koba and George built a bonfire and Bertha’s crew set up tables. Everyone who lived with Bertha had chores to do and the kitchen crew was especially busy that night.
Jolo stared off into the big fire, skinny kids running and dancing around it, happy and free. They didn’t know about the food shortage, didn’t know that they’d soon be eating Federation rations stolen by a notorious pirate. Jolo and the crew stashed the crates in several hidey holes close to the house, buried deep enough to avoid detection by a scan, even at close range.
The kids had split into two groups: a bunch of tall boys were the BG and the smaller kids were the pirates. They had mock battles and the big kids usually came out on top. Through all of it, Jolo kept hearing his name being called by the leader of the pirates. Finally, after another defeat, one of the little boys ran up and grabbed Jolo’s hand.
“Help us, Cap’n Jolo,” he said, pulling on his arm. Jolo looked at Katy.
“Get out there and save us, Captain,” she said. So the battle started again, but this time the good guys had a secret weapon and when the BG boys came on the attack there was Jolo Vargas and his crew of mini-pirates waiting. Jolo wondered just how the pretend battle would go down. He stood there for a moment in thought, a serious look on his face, realizing his force was heavily out-manned. Then Katy yelled at him: “Smile and pretend you are having fun!”
So he smiled real big, at which point the BG boys stepped back. “The smile doesn’t work,” he yelled back to Katy.
“That’s because your fake-ass smile is a little scary,” said Katy, laughing.
And then Jolo pretended to pull out his gun, which was actually his finger, and he charged, followed by a wave of little kids. This time the BG force fell away, ending up in a big pile of yelling, laughing, raucous kids. Somehow Jolo ended up in the dirt under a mountain of giggling arms and legs and dirty little feet. They immediately jumped off of him and grabbed him and demanded another battle. “Let’s do it again, Captain Jolo!” they screamed. They played again and again, Jolo sometimes a BG warrior, so
metimes a Fed captain. The best part to play for the kids was that of Jolo Vargas, usually played by one of the big boys. In the end Jolo was surrounded by a hundred little pirates and he was playing the unfortunate role of the BG Emperor, who fell in fierce combat after delivering heavy losses to the pirates led by a skinny, younger version of himself.
When the food was ready Jolo stumbled back onto the porch feeling much better than he had in a long time. Katy and Bertha were smiling at him and he was grinning.
“Now, that’s an authentic smile, Captain,” said Bertha. Katy put her arm around him and for a moment he felt lighter, like maybe this is how normal people felt.
Pretty soon a little girl came with a big plate of food. “Cap’n Jolo,” she said. “Thank you for your help.” And everyone around started clapping. The rest of the crew were served next and everyone enjoyed the last of the vegetables they’d harvested before the crops were destroyed.
“Do you feel it?” said Katy. “They love you.”
Jolo looked at her. “They don’t know what I am.”
“Most do. And they don’t care.”
“It’s not what you are, it’s what you do that counts,” said Bertha. “These people are precious to me. And I trust you with them. I know you would never let us down.”
That night Jolo lay in bed but still couldn’t get the day out of his mind. He kept thinking about the woman in the blue dress. Why did he care what she or the crewman or anyone from the Fed thought? And then his mind turned to the BG boat. Why had it attacked? What could they gain? Was this the start of the war between the BG and the Fed?
……
The next morning George woke up Jolo before light. “Captain, I just got a message from the network.” The network was a loose intruder warning system that covered most of the planet Duval. Each node was responsible for watching several square kilometers and reported any BG or Fed boats entering the atmosphere. Bertha’s house was a node on the northern end and Marco’s was the southernmost node in the net. The system was based on old radio tech and never went down. Radios were easy to find and would usually run forever, and most were solar powered so energy to run them was not an issue either.
“What’s up?” said Jolo.
“A BG boat set down about 100 kilo’s north of here.”
“Another listening station?”
“I don’t know. You wanna check it out?”
Computer, Jolo thought, how far apart do listening stations need to be on a planet the size of Duval?
Given a similar mass and density and a radius of no more than 6,358.2 kilometers, each listening point should cover 500 square kilometers.
“It can’t be a listening station. It’s too close to the one they just made,” said Jolo.
“That is correct,” said George.
“I’ll go alone, there’s a water reclamator not too far from there. I’ll bring some tools and pretend to be doing maintenance.”
It was still dark in the big house and Jolo went to the kitchen for coffee. Bertha and Katy were already there. Katy had her boots on and her rucksack, round and full, was sitting on the table.
“Taking a trip?” said Jolo.
“Yep. Thought we could do some sightseeing.”
“Okay,” Jolo said. “You come with me. The rest of the crew stays here just in case. We need to make sure that BG boat ain’t a threat before we leave.”
So Jolo and Katy headed north into the gray early light of day on one of Bertha’s hover bikes. The morning was cool and Jolo thought to make good time. It was mostly a flat stretch of cracked clay and the bike would get them there in under an hour. There were several hills he had to navigate around first, then they dropped into the long straight stretch of red clay that Duval was famous for and he fully engaged the mini-Quarton 4 thrusters and the bike leapt forward. Katy, who sat behind him, wrapped her arms around him tightly when the bike gained speed.
“Hang on,” he said over the comm. “I’m going to make time.”
“Roger that.”
Jolo pushed the bike even harder, the Quartons’ high-pitched whine mixed with the rush of wind. Katy pressed her body even closer to his and for the second time since he came to Bertha’s he had to smile. Feeling her close to him gave him a deep sense of calm and happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe this was some memory from his former self. He wished the reclamators were five hours away instead of just one.
Fifty-three minutes later Jolo saw the long line of shiny reclamators come into view. They stopped and Jolo quickly spread out the tools on the dry ground and opened up one of the inlet valves and brown water trickled out. Then he disassembled the water catch and lay it on the ground. They had to make it look good, like this is what they were actually doing. The big, black BG boat loomed in the distance. Jolo could see it clearly about 75 meters away.
Jolo was about to crawl under one of the reclamators when Katy squatted down next to him, the large water catch offering a bit of shade. “Why were you so down last night?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who cares what those Fed bastards think. It’s all propaganda anyway.”
“Is it?”
“Do I really have to answer that?”
“At night sometimes I dream about Barthelme. He gave his life for me and now he’s on some prison planet and unless there’s another Leviathan floating around in space we could steal, I don’t see how I could grab him. He gave his life for me, for what? We took out a synth production facility.”
“We got Merthon. And we know the BG are dirty as hell.”
“Yeah, but the Fed won’t listen to me. Or Merthon.”
“Let them rot.”
And then Jolo got quiet for a moment. The wind kicked up and they were showered in red clay dust.
“On the way back home,” said Jolo, “I want to check on the freighter. If those two are alive I want to pick them up. We should have taken them yesterday.”
“You may not like what you find.”
“There’s another reason. I want to know why a BG boat would attack a freighter. If the freighter survivors won’t tell us then maybe we can get the manifest from the onboard computer. Now let’s get to work.”
So while Jolo queried his computer for the Frixon Corp. CoolFresh 2000 water claimer repair manual, Katy hid between two large water catchers and scoped out the BG operation with the binoculars.
“What do you see,” said Jolo.
“The boat ain’t a cruiser. It’s a transport. The structure looks like a listening station, but maybe bigger, taller. They got about five workers, two warriors, a few drones. And one other… it’s blocked.” She squinted, dust blowing into her eyes. She zoomed in as close as she could and started recording. At one point a worker moved out of the way and she had a clearer view. “Holy shite!” She screamed, stepping back away from the reclamators.
Jolo scrambled out from under the water catch. “That one actually had a clogged check valve,” he said. And then he looked at Katy. She had that look, kind of like when they boarded the Corsair. Right before the shit hit the fan. “What? What is it? What’d you see?”
“Nothing. Let’s go now. I got the vid.” And she started cleaning up the tools. The job was done.
“Give me the binoc’s,” said Jolo.
“No.”
“That’s an order!” he yelled, glancing over towards the BG transport.
“Please Jolo. Let’s just go,” Katy said. Jolo held out his hand and she gave up the binoculars. Jolo took a look and it was just like Katy said: bots, warriors, transport ship. But then he spotted a thin, athletic female figure in all black with long blond hair. She was running the show, ordering the bots around. The two warriors there for protection only. Jolo took a deep breath and shook his head. Her hair color was so blond it was almost white, but there was no question: it was a Jaylen.
He wasn’t sure what to feel. She was beautiful, but he knew what she was and what she was capable of. He looked over at Katy, still throwin
g tools back into the box on the side of the hover bike, thin legs and brown hair past her shoulders. Katy is real and has a beauty all her own, he thought. She cares about the crew, and me.
And so his mind shifted a little. “Wish I had a long-range weapon,” he said, staring back out towards the blond girl and the big, black ship.
“Don’t waste your time,” Katy said. “There’s more of her than you got bullets for.”
Jolo had to agree. It was time to go. “Let’s high tail it. I don’t want us being here to put Bertha and her bunch in danger,” said Jolo.
He handed the binoculars back to Katy and she took one last look. The Jaylen was running towards them. “She’s coming!” screamed Katy.
“Relax,” said Jolo. “She may not know me. If she recognizes me, I’ll take her out and we run. If not, we play it cool.”
“Jolo, she’s seen us both. This one may not recognize me, but if she scans your face, she will know.”
The synth Jaylen covered the ground amazingly fast, but when she got there she wasn’t breathing hard at all. “Why are you here?” she said. Jolo was under the reclamator again yelling at Katy to hand him a 15mm spanner. “We ain’t got time for your BG shite,” said Jolo. “This one’s got a bad valve.”
“I want you gone in ten minutes or I’ll blow this rusty pile of junk to the heavens,” she said and turned and headed back to the work crew.
Jolo and Katy were gone in five.
Filcher
On the Federation Warship Defender near the Calamar system
Admiral Silas Filcher of the Federation Warship Defender took another sip of coffee and rubbed his temples. He checked the time: 9:32 am. There was too much to do. He had command of over 2000 able-bodied crewmen aboard and the biggest guns the Fed engineers could make, yet instead of battling against pirates attacking the merchant haulers, and until recently, the BG, his life had boiled down to a list of administrative tasks. Since the BG alliance the military had grown complacent. Not long ago there were Fed recon ships reaching as far as Frixion in the outer reaches, and gunboats patrolling all of the shipping lanes, but orders had come down that the military pull back to protect core planets only. Our new friends, the Bakanhe Grana, could deal with the outer planets and protect the commerce routes that carried supplies vital to the fringes. The Federation even started decommissioning old, but still viable, warships. A year after the order the force was weak and withdrawn.
The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Box Set Page 22
