The Lost Gunboat Captain (The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Book 1)

by J. D. Oppenheim

  Run

  Duval

  The Jessica slowly gained altitude with the rest of the ships. And one by one the large freighters made the burn into space. Jolo remained staring out the portal window at the smoldering black ruins, that was once the BG Alacyte Production Facility #1.

  "Jolo, we have to go," said Katy. She touched his arm and he nodded to her. She ran back to her console. "They're coming!" she yelled. Small red dots began popping up on the screen all around their current position.

  Jolo could see the first wave of scout bots, little black dots buzzing around the surface. And then three cruisers popped in, and one large troop carrier.

  A message came over the comm. "All cargo ships stand down. Disengage your engines and set down or your ship and crew will be made forfeit to the BG." By then the scout bots had made it to the cluster of large ships. And Katy was in a panic.

  "Keep easing back then drop us into the gully and headed south. Stay behind the big, green freighter. Go down with him and then duck into the trench." So Katy did what Jolo said, and as soon as they were 20 meters off the ground she turned and ran straight for gully a few hundred meters off. Two scout bots immediately followed and Koba asked if they should hit them with the railgun, but Jolo said wait.

  Katy did not ask if the ship would fit. She ran for the long, black sliver on the orange surface at full speed, then turned and dove down and headed south. By then the two scout bots were only 50 meters back.

  Jolo ordered Katy to slow down. "Koba, get a lock on the bots." The ship slowed and the bots came within 30 meters or so. They were so small it was difficult to target, but once they got close enough Jolo gave the word, and one small burst from the railguns and they were nothing more than a million pieces of glittering, smoking metal sprinkling down on the river at the bottom of the ravine.

  Pretty soon they came to the rendezvous point. Jolo worried about the hover bike being able to carry three large men, but it was able to carry explosives, so they should be okay. They made it to the point, which was a little over 100 km away from the alacyte facility, in a dense forest, one of the few bits of green left on Duval.

  Jolo lowered the rear hatch and slowly walked down onto the ground. He had his gun out just in case. The scanners had picked up nothing within 50 kilometers, but he wasn't taking any chances. He spotted the hover bike first, and then heard a voice. "Captain. Here," George said in almost a whisper.

  "Glad you guys made it out," said Jolo. But then he realized there were only two. The younger Greeley brother was sitting on the ground slumped over with his head down. His armored suit was charred and there was a nasty gash along the back, but it hadn't penetrated. George was missing an arm.

  "What happened?" said Jolo. By then Katy had arrived. The younger Greeley tried to explain, but his words were garbled and incoherent and punctuated by little fits of sobbing.

  "The older Greeley took down a cruiser by himself with the ion cannon. He knew the soft spot and exploited it," said George.

  "But then he got hit," said the younger Greeley.

  "We gotta bolt," said Koba, running up to them. "I'm starting to pick up scouts. They’re widening the net. We gotta go."

  And so everyone quietly got on board and Katy pointed Jessica towards home.

  ……

  So they made their way quietly through the night to the other side of Duval. Jolo insisted they travel at a slower speed so they were throwing a smaller heat signature. Katy kept a sharp eye on the screen while the med bots below worked on Greeley and George.

  When the Jessica made it into the final run to Marco's house, deep inside the safety of the ravine, Jolo almost allowed himself a moment to breathe. But the moment was short-lived. Not 20 kilometers from Marco’s hole in the cliff a large red dot showed up on Katy’s scanners.

  "So what's waiting for us?" said Jolo.

  "Federation, recon class. Smaller than us. Probably the Valhalla," she said.

  Jolo was tired. He’d lost a man, and George was injured, and once again he’d put everybody in danger. But still, he wasn't going to run. And if it was the Valhalla, then he'd be happy to talk to his old friend, Barthelme.

  "Shields up," said Jolo. "Katy, take us right up to their nose. I want to look inside and see who's there."

  Pretty soon the Valhalla hailed the Jessica. But Jolo did not reply. And just as he had instructed, Katy brought the Jessica close to the Valhalla.

  Jolo stood staring out the portal window. He needed confirmation. The Valhalla continued to hail them but Jolo remained silent, slowly inching forward until the proximity warning started to go off in the bridge. But he kept telling Katy to bring them closer. And sure enough, once they were 30 meters away, Jolo could see clearly onto the bridge of the Valhalla. And there, standing in front of the captain’s chair, was a thin man in a black suit. The large, round Barthelme was nowhere to be found.

  Jolo had Katy ease the Jessica back and he called down to Hurley. “We got enough juice to take out this tin can in front of us.”

  “I don’t know, Captain, we’re low on juice and they know it. If I had fresh cells I’d say blow her up.”

  “Captain. It’s not a normal recon ship, either. It’s got modified rail guns that can do some damage,” said Koba.

  Jolo got on the comm. “Get out of my way or I’m going to give you everything I’ve got.”

  “Ahh, the rash Captain Vargas,” the man in black said. “We both know you don’t have much left to fight with. Don’t be hasty. You’ve already lost one crew member today.”

  Just then Katy picked up two large vessels converging on their position.

  “What do we got?” said Jolo.

  “They’re throwing a perfect BG Cruiser class sign, but there’s a wave in the energy output that don’t look right,” said Koba.

  “Because we’re in a ravine and they’re up top,” said Katy.

  Jolo called down to medical. “George, you good to go?”

  “Yes, Captain,” said George, calm as ever, almost bored, as if he still had two arms and they were all sitting in the Atrium.

  Soon George came to the bridge, a bandage over the stump of his arm.

  “Can you drive the hover bike?”

  George went dead still and consider for a split-second.

  “Yes.”

  “Can the hover bike take a drop from this altitude with four aboard?”

  “Yes, but we’ll burn a ton of juice, so we won’t go as far.”

  “Okay, Katy, Koba and Hurley go with George on the hover bike. Get out of here.”

  “Captain, if it’s okay with you I’d like to stay,” said George. “In my current state,” he said, looking at his stump, “I don’t think I can safely land the hover bike with one arm.”

  Just then Greeley walked in.

  “Greeley, take Katy, Koba and Hurley out of here on the hover bike. Get as clear as you can.”

  “Ain’t runnin’!” he yelled. He was still wearing his armor suit, the green plate along his back marred by a long black streak from a BG energy rod.

  “Ain’t asking you to run,” snarled Jolo. “I’m asking you to save Katy and the rest.” Katy stood up to protest, but Jolo looked her in the eye, pleading. And she stayed quiet. Koba was up and ready to go.

  “Ok,” Greeley said.

  “Go now,” said Jolo.

  Then Jolo decreased altitude a little more to give the hover bike a better chance of making the drop.

  Before they left Katy hugged Jolo. “Come back to us. Okay? Don’t be stupid.” She kissed him on the cheek and he watched her go. And then he stood next to George and eyed the Federation ship Valhalla, captained by the man in black.

  “Computer, ETA on the two Cruisers?”

  “Three minutes, forty-seven seconds at current speed,” came the reply.

  Jolo was glad the crew was moving further away from all of this with every second that passed. He was free to do what he did best: railguns and destruction.

  Jolo go
t on the comm to the Valhalla. “Where’s Barthelme?”

  “He’s on vacation with his family. Having a great time, I’m sure.” Jolo could hear his laughter before his comm transmission cut off.

  “Where is he?” Jolo yelled.

  “Sotec, in the Scina system, ice skating. He’s been retired, you know.”

  Computer, Jolo thought. What is Sotec?

  A BG prison planet mainly used for ice mining. Most prisoners don’t last more than a few months. Survival rate for a year long sentence is 9.24%.

  “I’m gonna kill that bastard,” Jolo muttered to himself.

  “Captain, be careful of the man in black. Like us, I believe there is more to him than is readily apparent.”

  “Do you know Fed gunboat protocol?”

  “I am quite familiar with the operation of most ships in the known galaxy.”

  “Alright, then. You wanna be captain?”

  The synth smiled, “Sure, but you’re gonna have to call me Captain George.”

  “Of course, Captain. I think I’m gonna take a walk.” And then Jolo turned to face George. “We got two more incoming. And the plan is flimsy.”

  “I am prepared,” said George. And then he added, “Do you know why our fa— Marco, sent me along?” He paused for a second, but Jolo did not reply. “He sent me to give my life for yours, should it come to that.”

  “Thank you. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  The Man in Black

  Duval

  Perched on top of the Jessica in the magna-boots, Jolo stared down into the bridge of the Valhalla II. George had put the nose of the larger gunboat right on the smaller recon ship. The man in black was on the comm again, attempting to rile up a synthetic life form with a 1000 times more computational power than a human. But was the skinny man standing on the bridge of the Valhalla human? Jolo thought, reaching under his left arm, tracing the line of worn leather that led to his gun. His father said it was a Colt, made on old Earth before the final war. Marco had given him extra clips and told him the name of the man on Duval who could make the projectiles that didn’t require an external power source and could move through most energy shields.

  He stood and looked up between the two cliff walls on either side of him into the crack of dark sky. The stars were out. He took in a deep breath of the cool, sweet air. He relaxed for a split second, just standing there on the top of his ship, all alone, and Jaylen popped into his mind. I’m coming, he thought. I will save you.

  And then the Jessica jerked forward and he nearly lost his balance. His mind shifted back to the task at hand. He was going to jump. The magna boots were heavy so he’d have to give it everything he had. But if he could clear the nose of the Jessica and land square on the Valhalla above the bridge port window he’d be fine.

  ……

  The thin man in the black suit peered out at the Jessica, the two ships now touching, the larger gunboat forcing the smaller recon vessel into a nose down position. At any other time the gunboat would have been a prize, but now, neither ship held any meaning to him. It was the creature inside that he desired. The thing calling himself Vargas. The Emperor had made it clear that Vargas was a target, even as the Federation boats flittered around like slow humans do, accomplishing nothing for their weak, little president who’d soon join the other malcontents dying on some work planet on the edge of known space.

  Vargas must be erased before the Fed alarmists rose up and overtook the current, beaten majority. And now, when the stupid humans had spent themselves in futility searching for this rogue Vargas, the Emperor called me, he thought, smiling to himself.

  “Ensign, fire the railguns!” he screamed at the young Federation officer. He would take both ships and all of the soft humans down into the ravine in flames. Only he would walk away. And maybe the synth, but he could deal with that plastic humanoid.

  “Yes, Captain.” But the guns did not fire. The ships were too close.

  “Engineering!” the thin man yelled on the comm. “Override the railgun proximity block!” There was a short pause, and then an older, calmer voice answered.

  “Captain, if we fire the railguns this close it might take us both down.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Belcher.”

  The thin man in black stormed down two levels to engineering and grabbed a skinny officer in a black coverall.

  “Where is Belcher?” the thin man said, holding up the young officer over his head like he was nothing more than a stick.

  Belcher stepped forward. “I’m here, uh, Captain. Put him down and I’ll do whatever you want.” Belcher was holding his hands out, trying to calm the thin man in black down.

  “Oh, so you are telling me how things are going to go. Is that it?” His eyes narrowed and his face contorted into a scowl. Suddenly he threw the young engineer into a heat riser along the far wall like he was a toy. The man fell onto the floor in a clump and was quiet and still. A small pool of blood spread out onto the metal deck.

  Belcher glanced at the opposite wall where the weapons stash was kept.

  “No time for that, Mr. Belcher. Besides, you wouldn’t make it two steps in that direction before I broke your neck. Now we’ve got one minute before two Grana ships arrive and take all the credit for my work. I’ll not have any of that. Nor will I suffer human insubordination.”

  “I’ll have to pull the logic board. It’ll take a minute.”

  “You’ve got 30 seconds or I’ll have to make another example,” he said, eyeing the other engineer who was pressed against the wall.

  The man in black went back to the bridge and stared out the port window at the Jessica, wishing she was being torn in half by the Valhalla’s rail guns. Vargas wouldn’t fire on the Valhalla because there were Feds on board. Another human flaw.

  Suddenly his view was blocked as two heavy boots landed on the outside of the port hole. Instinctively he jumped back and watched as Vargas himself slid down the outer view window of the Valhalla, then gain purchase as his boots found metal. He put his gun, that ancient pop gun, on the outer laminate and started tapping. He pointed the gun right at the man in black and smiled, then headed up top out of his sight.

  The thin man was beside himself with anger. “Where are my guns?” he yelled into the comm.

  “Coming, Captain,” said the chief. But then a new plan came into his head.

  “Send the marines out to knock that bug off my ship!” he yelled again. But there were no marines on a Fed recon ship, just officers with access to a few rarely used energy weapons. So he sent the chief.

  ……

  Jolo stood atop the Fed recon ship Valhalla in the darkness and wondered if he was out of time. Probably a minute until the cruisers get here and then his options got very slim. He thought of Barthelme, wondered if he was alive. He thought of Jaylen. He could see her as clear as day in his mind: her hair tied up in a pony tail, her thin arms and the curve of her chin. If he made it through this he was coming for her.

  He knew they’d send someone for him. He hoped it would be the skinny man in the suit. He’d never tried to actually kill anyone with his gun. At least, this version of him hadn’t. He figured his former self had killed many men. But the current version of himself planned to kill the black freak.

  Jolo almost didn’t see the man in full battle gear, tethered to a thin safety cable, sneak up behind him. He’d gone out the lower escape hatch and the gun was on Jolo faster than he thought, faster than he could jump with the magna boots. Jolo caught a glimpse of the shiny, metallic green suit, and the burst from the energy weapon came all at once. He darted to the side and was thrown down, the boots were the only thing that kept him from falling off into the ravine several hundred meters down. His knees bent and his body hit the hull of the Valhalla, but he was still conscious, the magna boots holding tight. He could hear the Fed coming, but then he felt a shock and the boots gave way and he was falling. Someone had sent a charge through the entire ship, and Jolo’s boo
ts had released. Not Fed protocol, thought Jolo, the Fed in the green battle suit got shocked, too.

  The fall was sickening. The energy blast through the hull knocked the boots backward and had him in a spin and he couldn’t stop. His hands kept reaching out for a hold, but there was nothing but air rushing up under him.

  Computer, Jolo thought. What was our last altitude?

  238.7 meters.

  How high a fall can a human survive?

  20-40, depending on weight and impact surface.

  Half way down Jolo came out of the spin and was dropping feet first, the heavy magna boots leading the way down, down to his death.

  But then he had another thought. I’m only half human. And he calmed just a bit, and braced for impact. The tiny blue line that marked the stream from above was now a narrow river and he shot right down into the cold water and hit bottom feet first.

  And he didn’t die.

  In fact, it was like he’d jumped down from a tall ladder. His knees bent and absorbed the impact--his hands went down and felt the silty bottom. He rose up and was standing in waist deep water. He looked up and could see both ships above him. He unlatched the magna boots and waded to the shore and hid under some over hanging bushes. He reached under his arm and felt for the gun--it was still there.

  Sure enough, a few seconds later Jolo heard the distinctive hum of the hover bike. He pulled out his gun and stayed in the darkness, hoping the old Colt would still work even though it had been briefly submerged in the river.

  He watched the tiny hover bike grow larger as it came down. Please be that thin-tied bastard, he thought. The small craft made it down to the surface of the water and Jolo knew instantly it was him: black suit, his jacket flapping in the wind. The tie. He was staring into the water darting from one side of the stream to the other. He had an energy weapon slung over his shoulder.