The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Box Set

by J. D. Oppenheim

  “That's called Fed green. You hated that, too. How much do you remember?”

  Jolo scratched his head for a moment, looked over at the man sitting in the corner wearing a black suit, shiny shoes and a thin black tie. The man was looking out the window down onto the Plaza of Planets, pretending he didn't care.

  Jolo looked the chief right in the eye. “I remember just about everything,” which was a lie, but he hoped the chief understood.

  “I just stopped by to give you some reading material. Compared to the escape pod this place must be heaven, but I figure a western novel from Old Earth might help pass the time.”

  The chief started to hand a small screen to Jolo but suddenly the man in the black suit stood up. "I'm sorry, Captain, but you know the regulations.”

  “Yes, I know the regulations, you little slime-coated shill. This man is not an alien acquisition. He's one of us.”

  The man in the black suit just smiled and sat down. Barthelme squeezed the edge of the chair with his mechanical arm and the wood started to splinter.

  He put the screen back into his pocket then looked down at Jolo and tried to sound cheerful. “Make sure to eat all of your green tonight at dinner. It'll keep you healthy and safe. Plenty of good nutrients there.” He looked Jolo in the eye and smiled. He said nothing to the man in the black suit.

  That night the nurse brought Jolo’s dinner. She paused outside the glass door with a tray in her hands, put her head up to something he couldn’t see. Retinal scan? The door opened and she smiled at him and he almost believed she was sincere. She sat his tray down next to his bed.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you, Captain Vargas?”

  He said no, then thanked her and stared down at his protein meat substitute and fed green wondering what the old chief had meant earlier. And why did the nurses have to do a retinal scan to get in? And why did the man in black always have to be there in the room? Even though Jolo’s memory was gone, he still had good instincts. And he was beginning to trust them more: the man in the black suit was no friend.

  Jolo did as Barthelme instructed and ate his fed green. And there at the bottom of the tray under the green stuff was a note:

  There's going to be an inquisition. Be careful who you trust. The man in black is a snake. I fear for your life. Can you still handle a gun? You always hated that green. It worries me that you eat it now. I'll do what I can to help. Eat this note. It should taste better than that other stuff.

  Jolo laid his head on the soft white Federation pillow. He knew that his old self had known the chief for many years, but his new self had only known the him for a few days. Even so, he felt like he could trust the man.

  Computer, give me everything you’ve got on Federation inquisition protocol.

  Instantly, several pages of text popped up as if on screen in his mind. The man in the black suit was eyeing him. Jolo smiled and waved.

  He'd gotten used to the idea that the computer was embedded in his mind somehow. He didn't think the Fed had that sort of technology so it must've been done by his captors. The BG?

  There were too many questions and too few answers and now he couldn't talk freely with the one man he actually trusted.

  He read the computer synopsis of Federation inquisition protocol and it scared him. An inquisition bypassed all usual Federation laws protecting citizens and was mainly used during war for war criminals and “alien acquisitions,” which meant any person, human or not, that was deemed a potential threat to the Federation. Basically, the inquisition would decide if someone was guilty of a crime or if a person could stay in Federation space. One vote each from the Federation president, the head of the BG, the current head of the merchant class, and one final vote from the Federation military alliance, usually the acting admiral, decided the fate of the accused. Persons found guilty were either sent to the edge of Federation space or killed.

  Jolo sighed. Was he better off in the escape pod?

  Computer, who is the acting admiral of the military?

  Silas Filcher.

  The name sounded familiar. And then he remembered. Filcher was number two on his boat. So maybe I'll get one vote, he thought.

  Right before bed he always thought about the girl.

  Computer, search for Jaylen Voss.

  No data, came the reply. As always.

  Inquisition

  Federation Home Word: Sol.

  Federation Hall of Justice.

  Jolo prodded the Fed green with his plastic fork, and stared out through the glass divider hoping someone would come. Barthelme? The nurse had come and gone, but this time she’d been in full-on business mode. No smile. She’d referred to him as Mr. Vargas, and rushed out.

  The man in the black suit had been there all night and hadn’t eaten or been out of the room since Jolo got there. He just stared out the window. How could he go nearly two days without a bathroom break or a drink of water?

  Jolo held up a piece of orange fibrous stuff on the end of his flimsy little fork that the nurse claimed was carrot.

  “Hey, you want some?”

  The man’s head turned slowly, the rest of his body motionless. Then he held up his hand. No. And went back to the window.

  Jolo put it into his mouth and chewed. Soft and a slight bit sweet. A hint of salt at the end. He loved food. Even the green, which he was supposed to hate. It all tasted good.

  He closed his eyes and chewed and was reaching for his cup of water when he heard something. Two big men in silver battle gear with a black symbol on their chest: a circle with some sort of triangle.

  Computer. Who wears silver battle gear with a black symbol?

  Federation military police. The black symbol is the round Earth with a stylized early space craft.

  Both carried energy rifles with smaller pistols on holsters embedded into their armor on their right legs.

  “Mr. Vargas. Come with us.” No, Hi. No, please.

  They threw an orange jump suit at him. It landed on his tray and what remained of the carrots slid off on to the bed. He was still chewing on his last bite. He put on the ridiculous outfit, and some little papery slippers. They cuffed his hands behind his back and each grabbed an arm a little too tightly. The man in the suit followed. He was smiling.

  They walked past the nurse and she stopped.

  “He’s ours,” said one of the MPs.

  “Just going to check the gardens,” said Jolo. He wanted to say goodbye to her, to see her face. He turned back, but she just stared down at the floor.

  Jolo’s right pants leg had soaked up some of the salad dressing from lunch, a bit of lettuce that looked amazingly real clung to the orange fabric.

  Jolo stood in the center of a large arena, his paper shoes cold against the hard metal floor. There were people already seated, thirty rows deep, the last rows up near the ceiling. Closest to him were a group wearing fine robes, shiny rings, puffy fat cheeks, and looking like they couldn't wait for lunch. The merchants.

  Next the military, all in blue. Jolo scanned the crowd for Barthelme. If he had a friend, it was in that group. Several older men stared hard at Jolo and tapped their fists to their chests. Instinctively, Jolo did the same. Some called his name.

  One large section was empty, which Jolo figured was reserved for the Bakanhe Grana. It wasn't long before a long procession of black-robed, metallic BG filed into the hall.

  They were huge.

  Computer, are the BG synths?

  No. The BG are mechanized, but not synthetic. Each BG mech is controlled by a highly intelligent non-arthropod invertebrate creature, called annelides by humans. The annelide is encased in the alacyte chest plate.

  Big ass mechs run by a worm. Always in battle armor. They carried long staffs. Jolo glanced back up to the military contingent. No one was smiling. Their faces were hard.

  There were twenty or so warriors followed by the Emperor himself. He was larger than the rest and wore a long black cape. None of them had eyes, just red slits that
housed their ocular receptors. Their arms and limbs were purely mechanical. But they moved with elegance and grace, as if they were made of living tissue instead of alacyte segments and actuators.

  Jolo saw movement in the military section. Barthelme sitting down near the front. He caught his eye and could see that the older man was strained.

  Once everyone was settled down, a man stood up and addressed the crowd. He smiled like he was happy to be there. He had on a nice suit, shiny black shoes, and a thin green tie. The president.

  "Thank you all for coming.” And then the he nodded towards the merchants, and then to the military, and finally to the BG. He placed his hands on his forehead and welcomed them in their language: "Kirekureta arangrada, Grana sama."

  “We are here today to discuss several important matters concerning our new alliance and the health and safety of the Federation. Our hard fought peace has finally been achieved with the gracious help of the BG,” said the president, again bowing deeply towards the emperor with a smile. And then he nodded in the direction of the blue-uniformed military section, “And, of course, with the help of the Federation military.”

  “First up for discussion is the small matter of the alien acquisition which defied Federation regulation by landing on Duval without proper authorization. An offense of this magnitude usually results in immediate eradication, but the wise Captain Barthelme decided to allow the offending ship the right to land. We shall decide today whether this action was born out of judicious counsel or merely just an error by a relatively new captain of the Federation.”

  Jolo felt small and he fought to keep his breathing slow and steady. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. All eyes were on him. They cut into him. He would have gladly crawled back into the pod if it could take him away.

  One of the military contingent yelled out, “The man in the ship is not an alien acquisition, he is one of us. He is Jolo Vargas!”

  The whole room erupted in argument and the president held both hands up. "And that is exactly what we shall decide today. Whether this man is who he says he is, or perhaps something else entirely. I would like to remind the military, our merchant brothers, and all present to please speak when it is your turn to speak. I now have the floor. I would like to also remind all of you of the great threat that was thankfully annihilated by our good allies the BG. Were it not for them defeating the synthetic humanoid invasion, we might not all be here today.”

  Computer, define synthetic invasion, limit results to last five years and involving Federation planets. Digest version.

  Instantly text popped up his mind.

  Two years ago, in the middle of the Federation’s war with the BG, a new threat to all worlds arose, which was called the synthetic humanoid invasion. Vellosian humanoid synthetic beings were rounded up and accused of a plot against the Federation. This was during the BG and Federation war. The BG and the Federation created an alliance to destroy the humanoid synthetic population. Soon after, the whole planet of Vellos was accused of attempting to create a synthetic army whose mission was to dismantle the Federation and to eliminate the Bakanhe Grana. The BG ultimately destroyed the Vellosian home world and afterwards the Federation peace accord was signed and the current peace became a reality.

  The president continued, “It is our task today to decide whether this alien acquisition is, in fact, the man who he claims to be, or merely a synth spy.”

  And then began a long line of questioning from each faction. The merchants were concerned because an unauthorized space ship made it past the outer patrols.

  “Why did you not respond to the hails?” their leader asked.

  “I had no communication,” said Jolo.

  “Why did you land on Duval?” they asked.

  “My life-support was down. I had to land immediately. Duval was the closest planet.”

  “But why not Tichel?”

  “I'm not sure. It just felt right. I looked out the view port and saw the stars there, and I had a good feeling about it.”

  At that, someone from the merchant faction blurted out, “He was attempting to infiltrate the alacyte production operations on Duval. There can be no other explanation.”

  Again the room erupted in argument. Next, the Federation doctor who examined Jolo was brought out. He confirmed that all scans of Jolo indicated he was, in fact, human. But then the president spoke up, “Dr. Johnston, are your scans infallible?”

  “No, sir, they are not.”

  “Could this person here standing before us be a synthetic life form?”

  “Well, I suppose, there is a possibility. Towards the end of the war there were rumors of advanced synthetics that could pass through Federation scans.”

  And then the president quickly dismissed the doctor before he could say anything else. “I now would like to call down our esteemed military advisor, Captain Barthelme, of the recon ship Valhalla II.”

  Captain Barthelme was brought down to the floor. His face was red and sweaty. The president wasted no time. “Captain please state your name for the record.”

  “Franklin John Barthelme, Federation captain, Valhalla II, reconnaissance.”

  “Captain, were you not a member of the expeditionary force led by Captain Jolo Vargas in the final campaign in the spring two years ago on Montag in Vellosian space?”

  “Yes, that's correct.”

  “And did you not fight side-by-side with Captain Vargas against the BG in the final battle on the beach at San Miguel?”

  “Yes, that's correct.”

  “Can you tell us what happened there?”

  “Yes. Captain Vargas was leading a small ground force, myself included, to take out the main power station the BG were using to supply most of their weaponry.”

  “And were you successful?” said the president.

  “At first, yes. We made it to main power station without much issue, but then a large BG destroyer jumped in at the last moment.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “And then we were defeated.” At this point, Barth looked down at his shoes and took a deep breath.

  “And what did you see right at the end before you blacked out?”

  “I saw Captain Vargas.”

  “You saw Captain Vargas? And what condition was Captain Vargas in at that moment?”

  “It was bad.”

  “How bad?”

  Barthelme looked up at Jolo with a pained expression. “Very bad,” he said, finally.

  “And after you made it out, what was your exact comment to then Commander Filcher?”

  Another deep breath from Barthelme. The audience started to grumble. The president repeated question and waited.

  “I said that Vargas was dead.”

  “Could you repeat that so everyone can hear?”

  “I said that Vargas was dead.”

  “And how did you know Vargas was dead?”

  “I saw his body. He was torn up pretty bad. He wasn't breathing. Those of us who escaped barely got out alive. The med bots brought back the wounded, but Captain Vargas was not among them.”

  “So the med bots, who are programmed to recover living comrades and leave the dead, left Vargas on the field of battle?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you were surprised when you saw him the other day on your reconnaissance mission?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “But you think it's Vargas?”

  “Yes, I do. I don't know how, but it's Vargas.”

  “Thank you for your testimony, Captain Barthelme.”

  The emperor came onto the stage. Jolo could feel the vibration of each heavy step the big mech took. The cape trailed behind, just touching the floor. “Where have you been for the last two years?” he asked Jolo with near perfect core world pronunciation, though slightly marred by a very faint buzzing hiss at the end of each sentence.

  “I don't know,” said Jolo.

  Jolo was several feet shorter than the emperor. He felt like the mech was going to
turn on him. His breathing got faster and he started to sweat. He had a deep urge to run, to defend himself. But he had no weapon, and his hands were tied behind his back.

  “So you remember nothing in all of that time?” said the emperor.

  “That's correct.”

  “How convenient. Do you remember who you are?”

  Jolo did not reply.

  “Do you remember your crew? Do you remember the name of the ship you were the captain of?”

  “I was the captain of the gunboat Jessica. Captain Barthelme was my chief.”

  “And do you remember any others? Or is that it?”

  “I remember Filcher, he was my number 2. And I remember the ensign, Jaylen Voss.”

  The Emperor looked over to the military faction. “Is there a Jaylen Voss in the Federation?”

  A small man at the front with a screen did a quick search and then shook his head, no.

  Jolo ran over to the man, but he was stopped before he got there by two Federation guards.

  “There was a Jaylen Voss” he screamed. “I'm sure of that. I remember her.”

  “So let's see,” said the BG emperor, “you only know two men from your former command, and I think the crew number is around fifteen. And yet you remember one person who was not even there. Where were you born and what is your father's name?”

  “I don't know.”

  The BG Emperor turned to address the crowd. “This man is not Jolo Vargas. Vargas was your war hero, but he was my bitter enemy as well. That one man did more damage to my people than any one man in history. And this thing here is nothing more than a deluded synthetic creation. And we have more important business to discuss.”

  The emperor nodded slightly to the president and sat down. “So we have a dead man,” said the president, “who has come back to life, ostensibly. He returned in a relic Racellian escape pod capable of traveling 8 jumps from the beyond into Federation space. He could have come from anywhere. At this time I'd like for everyone to consider for a moment the testimony that you have heard, and when you are ready, place your vote.”