The room was bare. Just a concrete floor and a water bowl. Like a dog, thought Jolo. She had on rags like they wore in the poor settlements. She looked up at him, at first angry and defiant. “I said I’m not eating your shite food,” she screamed. And then her face changed and she took a few steps toward the door. Jolo could see her chest rise and fall with each deep breath. They came more rapidly and her face turned red and her eyes began to water.
Finally she took another step towards the door. “It’s you. I thought it was a dream.”
“It was a dream,” said Jolo. “You were all synthetics.”
“No. No! Not me! Can’t you see that?” she yelled. Her hair was filthy, almost brown, full of Duval dirt.
This isn’t real, thought Jolo. She’s a synth, but all the Jaylens he’d ever come across had perfect, platinum blond hair. He wondered if he should just move on and go hunt down the comm box.
“You said you’d never leave me. I thought you would come for me,” she said.
“I did come.”
“No. You came for the frog man, and you left me alone. You couldn’t tell us apart? You always were a little stiff, but I loved you and I thought you loved me.”
She turned her back on him and put her head in the corner and cried, her shoulders jerking up and down.
“You are a synth,” said Jolo and started to turn away, but she jumped up, her face red and wet. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Then she banged her forehead on the concrete wall. She stumbled back, stunned, fell on the floor for a moment, her dirty hair covering her face. The she crawled to the door and stood up, inches from the glass. She pulled her hair back away from her face and there, on her forehead, was a gash. Blood streamed out and dripped down onto her face, her nose, into her mouth.
“Synths don’t bleed, Jolo.”
Jolo stepped back and stared at this girl through the window. “Jaylen?” he said.
She looked up and smiled, and another round of sobbing started. “I’m tired,” she cried. “I can’t go on any longer.” Then she fell on the floor and blood continued to pour from the cut on her forehead. He face started to go white and Jolo banged on the door.
“Jaylen! Get up!” he yelled. He had to help her. He slid the bolt lock open and put his hand on the door knob. He could open it from the outside.
“Don’t open that you fool!” Merthon yelled.
And Jolo stopped.
“But she’s hurt,” said Jolo.
“And you are a fool.”
Merthon quickly locked the door again.
“What do you see?” he said.
“I see Jaylen. The Jaylen.”
“You see what she wants you to see.”
“Do you believe its her, really her, the girl that was nothing more than an implanted dream in the mem chip in your head?”
“She’s going to die.”
Merthon sighed. “You have a good heart, Jolo. And that makes me so happy. I’ve never brought anyone back who was as far gone as you. Sometimes things don’t work out so well. Sometimes the person never comes back even though I can coax the body back. They look human but have lost their humanity. Not you.” And then he looked through the window at the girl. “But don’t let your humanness get you killed.”
He pressed a button on the wall. “Take off her arm at the shoulder.”
Suddenly a med bot came appeared and the girl jumped up and tried to defend herself. A red laser shot out of the small bot, burning a hole in the floor. Jolo started to push Merthon out of the way and go for the door, but was too late. The girl’s arm fell onto the floor. She didn’t scream or cry. She just sat against the wall, her breathing normal. The arm wasn’t bloody, and neither was the stump: hollow alacyte skeleton surrounded by synthetic flesh that had already started to repair itself.
Jolo moved away from the door and sat down. Merthon put his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. The damn creature had us all fooled. She’s not like the ones on the harvester. This one’s an infiltrator. The blood is just a trick. She’s an upgraded model. We caught her taking down towers out near Arkos! She was looking for you. They probably sent a number of these models to each of the fringe planets.”
Jolo stood up, still unable to speak. He rubbed his eyes and gave Merthon a tired look.
“Here’s the silver lining in all of this,” said Merthon. “If you ever wondered if you were too much synth, then don’t. You act as stupid and emotional as any human I’ve ever known. I should have mentioned we had her. I need her for research. That’s all. Marco and Katy thought seeing her might upset you. They were fooled, too, Jolo. Just like you. The only one not fooled was George. And me, of course.”
“How did you catch her?”
“She killed two of Mantis’s men before she took several hits to the head with an energy rifle, which slowed her down enough.”
“Do we have a chance in this war?” said Jolo.
“I don’t know. But I never even had a chance to fight for Vellos. I’ll fight now for this planet. On Montag, my friend Jamis and I helped create these creatures. We tried to destroy them several times but couldn’t. The Emperor killed Jamis, but not before he added something to their physiology, something the BG would never find, but could be used to kill them.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you are too valuable to die on this planet for nothing.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Bertha
Duval
22 days left
Jolo gingerly stepped out into the main hangar, his head full of hammers, and little knives stabbing at his sides. Merthon said the pain was a good sign and his body would heal fast. He needed to get out and see the bright blue sky. Tower buster crews came in, their hover craft covered in orange dust, reloading with zirk charges. Big pirate ships loyal to the cause brought in supplies freshly relieved from the Fed and the core world trading companies. And somehow George kept it all running smoothly.
Katy said good morning from behind but he waited for her to come into his field of vision. He couldn’t turn without another shot of pain to his side. He pretended to be eyeing an ugly transport, dented and dirty from years of abuse. It was an old Fed boat but so covered in dust you couldn’t tell.
“Still in pain, huh?” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t lie well.”
“Merthon said I heal faster than, uh.”
“Than un-modified humans?” Katy said.
“Is that what I am?”
“Yeah, a modified human. Better than human.” She smiled and put her arm around him and he winced and she pulled her arm back, then she patted him on the back and he winced again. “I’m making a run to Bertha’s, wanna come?”
“Yeah. I need to get out of here before I go crazy.”
“What’s Merthon gonna say?”
“He ain’t gonna know.”
They took the Scout, which Marco had outfitted with a Halbrock Industries Phase 4 turret. He’d welded it straight on to the front of the hover craft partially obscuring the pilot’s view. The Phase 4s, usually fitted to the undercarriage of the big freighters, had long since been replaced with the 5s, because the 4s had a tendency to lock up with tracking system issues, usually right when you needed them most. So the pirates and the free traders salvaged them or bought them for scrap, then added modified logic chips that fixed all the previous issues and suddenly the 4s were helping to take down the ships they were supposed to defend.
Jolo couldn’t help but stare at the big barrel, aimed down to the side, reminding him of the giant turrets on the ice harvester.
“You get used to it after awhile,” said Katy. “Could’ve used the thing when the BG hit us a week ago.”
Jolo slowly turned around in his seat to say hi to the girl in the back, Misha. The shots of pain under his ribcage were distant and dull, thanks to one of Merthon’s pain killers. He tried to make eye contact, to make some kind
of connection. But she stared straight out and watched the gray morning sky turn bright blue.
They made it to Bertha’s right at lunch time. The old wooden house was partially obscured by a giant UFP freight hauler sitting on a makeshift landing pad. The large, white ship looked out of place next to the tin-roofed house. The kids swarmed around Jolo when they spotted him and Katy had to act as body guard. “Can we play, Cap’n Jolo?” they all yelled. The big cargo hauler’s side doors were open, each one nearly as big as the house, and kids had set up camp in one of the large empty rooms. Meanwhile a team of engineers and mechanics worked on the engines.
A man in a Federation engineer’s black coverall came up to Jolo and saluted. “Captain Vargas. It’s an honor. I’m Biggins. I heard you rescued Captain Barthelme. I was on the Valhalla with him for a time when you were gone. How is the cranky old fart?”
“Getting better,” said Jolo. “Are you still with the Fed?”
Biggins smiled, ran his fingers through his dark, greasy hair. “Is Captain Barthelme? I got reassigned to a recon boat after they took the Captain. It was just before they pulled all Fed boats back into core world space. Anyhow, we had it out with a pair of pirate ships and they took our boat and dropped us here. I thought they were gonna kill us, but I ended up staying and helping out.”
“You know what’s happening then?” said Katy.
“Of course.”
“But the Fed don’t, right?” said Jolo.
Biggins shook his head in disgust. “It’s like they’re blind. You’ve seen it. All the strange stuff happening. The dang towers. BG boats letting the pirates run free on the fringe. Even heard of BG boats attacking core Fed haulers.“
“Are there others like you in the military?” said Katy.
“You mean freaks that don’t fit? No. I ain’t upper-crust core world stock. My father worked as a mechanic in the bowels of a freighter his whole life. And I bounced around on the bottom of the Fed pay scale. You think they put the up-and-comers on the Valhalla, way out here?” He looked around with his arms outstretched and laughed. “Not many like me. But I’ll tell you one thing. Most of us want to do what’s right. If a BG boat comes at us we’ll give them hell, alliance or no.”
“Is this ship gonna be ready?” said Jolo.
“We been workin’ day and night. It’s got to be ready.”
They found Bertha in the kitchen chopping greens on a huge wooden cutting board. A big man with a mech leg and a young girl were laying out bowls and mixing the greens with Fed meal packs. The whole operation ran like a factory assembly line.
Bertha gave Jolo and Katy a hug when they walked in. Jolo grunted in pain and the big woman just laughed.
“I heard you saved a Fed man from a prison planet. I didn’t think that was possible?” she said.
“I thought the garden was destroyed by the BG ship?” said Jolo, changing the subject, pointing at the greens on the cutting board.
“That’s mainly chicory, with a few other edibles. When we lost this year’s crops we started foraging out near a patch of green a few kilometers away. We taught the kids what to look for and they’ve been a big help.”
“Looks like you’ve got even more kids,” said Katy.
“They keep coming. Kids without mommies or daddies. Kids that have seen too much.”
“Are you gonna make it out in time?” said Jolo.
“Our Fed man Biggins is on it. I have faith in him, but I also have faith in Jolo Vargas,” she said. She put her hands on either side of his face and stared into his eyes. He could feel her rings, little bits of cold metal against his cheek, and her warm, thick fingers. Her green eyes were old and watery, but deep and calm. The feeling was familiar and comforting to him, like maybe he’d felt this before, maybe when he was a child, but the memory of it was lost.
“If that hauler ain’t ready to make the jump out, then you give us a call and I’ll steal a transport ship or come in the Argossy.”
“I know. We couldn’t do this without you, Jolo.” She smiled at Katy. “And your crew.”
“I’m very sorry, Bertha,” said Katy, “but I’ve got one more for you. Jolo pulled her off an ice harvester on Sotec. Her name is Misha.” Misha had been hiding behind Katy and peeked out from behind her legs.
“Well hello, my dear,” said Bertha. Soon, Misha was hand-in-hand with another girl a year or so older. Katy gave her a kiss and said they’d be back to check on her in a few days. Misha walked off with the older girl, her eyes wide.
“She doesn’t speak,” said Katy.
“Give it time,” said Bertha.
That’s exactly what we don’t have, thought Jolo.
They ate lunch with all the kids inside one of the hauler’s storage bays. Bertha said they were going to try to take everything they had with them, hence the big ship. The kids sat around Jolo, dirty bare feet, ragged clothes, each with a plastic bowl of Fed meal pack stew with bits of fresh green. A tiny, messy-haired boy sat on Jolo’s lap and they all ate and laughed. The kids filled the whole cargo bay.
The kids demanded Jolo tell them a joke and he looked to Katy for help and she just shrugged. He wracked his brain but couldn’t think of a joke and decided maybe he didn’t know any. He took a big bite of Fed stew to stall for time but still nothing came. Then he remembered. He had access to every joke ever written in Fed space.
Computer, he thought, display a list of jokes. Instantly he had several thousand. So he started right at the top with Why do people not like restaurants on Galafor? He paused, staring into a sea of round, blinking little eyes. Then he hit them with the punch line: Because there’s no atmosphere. One tall kid laughed, but most just stared at him. The next one, about a space gnat on Qualus, also bombed. And the one after that. And most of the kids went back to staring down into their bowls and the cargo bay fell silent.
Not one to suffer defeat lightly, Jolo wracked his brain until inspiration hit. Then out of nowhere he stood up and said: Why did the BG Lord die a screaming death? Every little head popped up, all bug-eyed and leaning in. Now I got them, he thought. But then he realized he didn’t have a punch line. One of the kids in the back went back to his bowl, others began to fidget around. In desperation, Jolo said: “Because Jolo Vargas shot his ass!” And the crowd went nuts. All one hundred plus kids jumped up and started screaming, laughing, yelling. Bertha came and peeked inside to make sure everything was okay. More jokes followed: Why did the Fed cargo hauler lose four boxes of Fed rations? Because Jolo stole them! Again, pandemonium in the empty cargo hold.
Katy looked at Jolo. “You can’t say A-S-S to kids.”
Jolo shrugged, grinning. “I’m funny,” he said.
Katy smiled. “Just don’t try to entertain anyone over the age of, say, eight.”
An hour later Katy came and dragged him out. They had to get back. He was still grinning like a little kid as they said their goodbyes. But half way home to Marco’s Jolo’s face turned serious again.
“Why so quiet?” said Katy.
“Just thinking.” He stared off to the horizon, a straight, dark line to the west with pink and purple streaks of light above. “It felt good to play with the kids today. I like Bertha.”
“She loves you. So do the kids.”
He shifted in his seat, the jabs of pain sharper than before, the drugs wearing off. “Really?”
She laughed. “You are so smart and gifted. You can do things most people can’t. But you sure are boneheaded about the simple stuff.”
“Katy, I want you stay and help Marco. George should stay, too. I’ll take Barth. We’ve got to go. I have no faith in the tower busters. No faith in the Fed government. We’ll ask the military for help, they’ll say no, then I’m getting you, Marco, Bertha, the kids, everyone, out. And we can stop this little we-can-take-on-the-BG game.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Soon.”
“You’re not healed up yet. And Koba sucks at piloting the Argossy. I’ve gotten the reports fro
m Hurley and Greeley and it ain’t pretty.”
“We’re out of time. Besides, I don’t need Koba to duel with the Fed, just get me there. Barth and Marco should know where Filcher is by now.” It was darker outside, the pink sky had become a deep purple. He looked at Katy, the green display lights silhouetting her sharp features against the night sky. He followed the curve of her nose down to her chin. He wanted to touch her.
Last Gasp
Duval
18 days left
Jolo glanced down at the screen while the computer made final calculations for the jump into Astid. Three more jumps would put them in Callen, and hopefully nose to nose with the Federation warship Persephony. Would Filcher see their side of it? he wondered. They had to try now, that’s all he knew. The faster they did this, the faster Jolo could get back and get Katy and Marco and the rest off Duval.
Tichel, Barc, Qualus and a few other planets in the system appeared on the screen. He didn’t know where he’d take them when Duval was destroyed. Tichel? Cold as Sotec and tough to grow anything. How would the kids survive? People lived underground there and ate a green mush derived from a special moss that grew on ice. Barc would be gone soon. And Qualus was the Federation’s trash dump. The toxicity levels on that rock, in the soil, in the air, made scratching out an existence tough. The humans that worked the refuse facilities didn’t look right. Some had begun to morph. Some in minor ways like an extra finger or toe, or one part missing that you wouldn’t notice at first, but others weren’t so lucky. He’d heard of some humans with extra limbs, or animal features like tails. No thanks. He’d rather float out in space on a stolen cargo hauler than subject his people to the horror show on Qualus.
The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Box Set Page 32
