In orbit above Arcana, three jumps from the empty debris field that was once the planet Duval.
14 hours later.
Jolo and Katy walked through the large white corridors of the Federation Defender Persephony surrounded by a mix of ragged, dirty Duvalites and blue-uniformed Fed personnel. Some of the survivors from Duval were crying, some just stumbling along wide-eyed and shell-shocked. Jolo noticed the mothers carrying children had tired faces but still held their heads up, almost hopeful. They were alive, and that is a very good thing. But somehow Jolo couldn’t process what just happened. It was his job to save Duval, and he failed. Katy put her arm around him and smiled.
“How can you smile?” said Jolo. “You’re the one who wanted to save Duval. I was the one who was ready to evacuate early.”
“You’ve got no reason to be sad, Jolo,” said Katy.
“I couldn’t save Duval,” he said.
They kept walking down the large, hallway of the Persephony. It reminded him of when they snuck aboard the big Fed ship Leviathan. It seemed like ten years earlier.
“You did save Duval,” Katy said. “Look,” and she pointed through a window into a huge open room. There were kids everywhere, skinny, threadbare clothes and bare feet. Duval kids. Mothers with babies. Old pirates. Bertha came and gave Jolo and Katy a hug. They surrounded Jolo and Katy and everyone came up to Jolo and said thank you. Little kids grabbed his hands, pulled on his shirt, and mothers kissed him.
“I knew you would take care of us,” said Bertha.
So Jolo and Katy hung out with the kids for awhile and Jolo managed to smile, especially when the kids came and asked to play or wanted another of his famously bad jokes. He couldn’t play because of his leg but did get a few jokes in before he and Katy had to go to the meeting Filcher had called.
On the way to the meeting Katy pulled Jolo aside and gave him a hug. She looked up at him, her eye still covered in white gauze.
“What’s the matter?” said Jolo. “Filch is waiting.”
“I finally found someone to love and now we’re all being hunted by mech aliens,” she said.
“Bad timing, huh? But we’ve got each other. And it ain’t over yet.” A few barefooted kids ran past, the sound of their voices echoing through the hallway. “Not while I still draw breath.”
“You getting cocky?” said Katy, grinning. It was the same Katy he knew when they still had a home, back when they were pretending to be pirates.
“Yeah, I’m going to kill all of them.”
She hugged him tighter and he took a deep breath and for a second he was back at Bertha’s with the wind blowing through the trees and he could smell the grass and feel the heat, the sky above so bright he could see orange even though his eyes were closed. They were all in shock. Duval was gone but a large part of everyone there still couldn’t believe it. Soon, when the reality slowly sunk in, they would cry and mourn their loss. Katy, too. And Jolo would be there for her.
……
Everyone gathered in the big meeting room on level four of the Persephony. Filcher, dark under his eyes and the top button of his sleek Fed Fleet Admiral’s uniform undone, stood on a dais at the head of the round wooden table, a big vid screen behind him. Jolo, Katy, Marco, Merthon, Barthelme and even George were seated with the other Federation officers, a glass of water on a paper napkin for each person.
The Feds were all clean-shaven, spit-shined buttons, sharp creases and stinking like Fed issue dry-soap. Jolo’s crew were a pack of dirty, bandaged, wounded riff-raff from a nothing planet. Jolo could feel the stares, and Katy, Duval dust still covering her boots, still under her sweaty collar, started to fidget. But Jolo couldn’t hold anything against the Feds. They came. Late. But they came.
Marco nudged Jolo, holding up the glass of water with a smirk on his face. Fed extravagance. But Jolo was wondering why Filcher had come for them--Filcher, the man determined to lead his people to safety, to turn and run and bow down to the BG and take what they were going to give.
Filcher stood, both hands on the lectern like an old man clinging to a walker, and cleared his throat to speak. But Jolo jumped up and beat him to the punch: “Why did you come for us?” said Jolo. It was more of an accusation than a question.
Filcher looked down at Jolo with watery eyes and something close to panic on his face. And then Johnson Raimey, commander of the other Defender, Resolute, stood. He smoothed his jacket and stuck out his jaw. “We defend the Federation, from the core to the farthest reaches of known space.” The other Fed officers all joined in, hoorah-ing and hear, hear-ing. Barthelme was shaking his head side to side. He started to stand but Jolo held his hand out to stop him.
“What about your agreement with the President?” yelled Jolo. The room got quiet.
“What of the President?” said Raimey. “We’ve not had a word in days, and fear that something is amiss. Especially after the attack by this rogue BG outfit.”
“What is this ‘agreement’?” said another.
“Tell him,” said Jolo. “Tell him what you told me and Barthelme a few weeks ago. Tell him about your decision to run. Tell them this was no rogue Grana force, but one small strike in a calculated offensive against the entire Federation.”
The room erupted in loud voices. And then Filch started to speak and they slowly quieted down. The admiral told the truth, finally. He told all of the Fed captains present that the training exercise was a ruse simply to get as many Fed ships away from the core, away from a BG attack they could never defend against. He kept them in comm silence so they wouldn’t know the Bakanhe Grana were moving their forces to the core. He told them the BG would have slaughtered them all. Their numbers beat the Fed by a factor of ten. And that his agreement with the President was also with the BG. The BG would let some of the Fed live on an oxygenated, green planet, and he’d been waiting on rendezvous coordinates. Coordinates that never came.
“And what of the rest of the Federation citizens?” said one of the female gunboat captains.
Barth could sit no longer. “They will die. All of them. The whole damn human race. Right now as we sit here at this fancy table, y’all dressed up like a bunch of bureaucrats, the BG is systematically taking down the Fed core. While all of you sat around in the fringe, the BG was moving closer.”
“You told us the comms were locked because the training mission was going to use new tech,” said another officer. Filch did not reply, and Jolo started to almost feel sorry for him. He came for us. Trant, the old gunboat captain, stood up and ripped off the Fed captain’s wings from his jacket and threw them onto the floor. They skidded and bounced between either side of the tables and landed under the dais where Filch stood. The other captains joined in, cursing their highest ranking officer. Their job was to defend the Fed, and he’d robbed them of that chance.
Filch put his hand up. “There’s more,” he said. “There’s more.” Another pair of Fed wings bounced off the lectern. More followed. “It’s the President,” said Filcher. The room quieted. “I knew that leading you out here to avoid a conflict would mean the end of my command. But it was the only way I knew to save as many as I could.”
“What of our families!” yelled one of the transport pilots.
“We should return to the core now!” yelled another. Jolo knew this was going to turn ugly and wondered if he should get Katy out, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. A thin officer with a gray goatee, suddenly jumped onto the table, ripped off his wings, threw them down then spit in Filch’s direction. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out his Fed issue plasma gun. It was a small hand gun that all officers carried. The man pointed it at Filcher and Jolo tensed.
“If the BG make it to Sarnos my family is… they’ll be taken…” said the thin transport captain. The gun dropped for a split second and then it came up again and Jolo could see the muscles in the man’s arm start to tense. Jolo stood and pulled out the Colt in one smooth motion and suddenly the transport captain’s small
gun was on the floor with a hole in the handle. But when Jolo looked at Filch he was falling back behind the lecturn. Trant had shot him with a rifle from the back of the room. No one said anything.
Jolo jumped up and found Filch on the cold floor under the vid screen. With no armor, a shot from a plasma gun is a death sentence. Some survive with parts missing. The plasma burns you from the inside and Filch took a shot right to the chest. Trant knew what he was doing. Filch was heaving but no air moved. He struggled and gagged and pulled Jolo down next to his face and fought for words. Finally, Jolo’s ear right next to his lips, Filch said his last words: “I didn’t know, but the President is a BG synth. They were never going to spare any of us. They are coming.” He choked and wheezed, then looked Jolo in the eye. “Run.” And then his head fell back onto the floor and he was gone.
The Cold Dead Earth
Book 3 in the Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series
Copyright © 2019 by J.D.Oppenheim
All rights reserved.
[email protected]
Goodbye, Vexus
On the surface of the planet Faraley
The old Fed transport fell from the sky, the starboard engine spewing black smoke, the hull covered with ion cannon burns. It righted itself at the last moment, twenty meters off the ground, then crashed into the crest of a dune. A wispy gray line of smoke starting high in the sky, getting darker and more dense the closer it got to the ground, marked the twisting descent of the dying ship, like a long finger pointing down from the heavens to all her enemies: come and get it.
The hatch opened and four marines spilled out, followed by one of the crew, perhaps the pilot. The ship was dead, and a miracle they’d even reached the ground.
A few hundred meters away, behind the crest of a dune, Jolo Vargas watched the drama unfold through his binoculars. He sighed, blinking in the bright light of midday, and handed the binocs to Katy. “They made it. We’ll give them a ride home.”
Katy pressed the lenses up to her eyes, then adjusted the magnification. “Four ground pounders and a pilot. That’s another one of those Iridium Class transports that ain’t fit to haul Fed cow shite much less humans.” Jolo just stared at her, the wind blowing her hair up around her head. He loved to be alone with her so he could take in long looks at her. She was beautiful, even covered in sweat and sand. It was something he had never fully realized until Merthon took the implant out and his lust for the synth girl called Jaylen faded away. He’d been blinded by it. But now he could see clearly. He reached up to move her hair away from the binoculars but that was just an excuse to touch her. “Pilot looks gimpy,” she said. “And don’t mess my hair up. I’m going for a new look.”
“What? Wild-haired sand queen.”
She just grinned, then turned back to the binocs. He wondered if she knew how hard he’d fallen for her. He decided he was going to kiss her, but Katy suddenly went stiff and instinctively started inching backwards.
“No. Oh no,” she said.
“What are you oh no-ing about?” said Jolo.
“The bitches are back.” And Katy didn’t have to say anymore. Jolo grabbed the binoculars, and there, 500 meters and closing, were four Jaylens, synthetic assassins of the Bakanhe Grana.
Jolo stood and loosened the holster of the Colt at his side.
“Where you goin?” said Katy.
“Down there,” said Jolo, pointing to the crumpled, smoking mess of the Fed transport.
“Kray said to stay clear of the BG. We got the dead listening post he wanted. We shouldn’t even be here right now.”
“Well, Kray didn’t say anything about not helping a Fed transport in trouble.” Jolo knew the look was coming. It was the look that swayed him: a pleading, sexy pout, one little bit of hair hanging down across her face. And the eyes--she looked up at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He felt the pull all the way down to his boots, but he resisted. Anger was a good antidote. “Your captain orders you to run to the Argossy,” he yelled.
By then the marines had fallen into a defensive position. The sunlight glinted off their blue metallic battle gear. At least one had a long-range energy weapon. It had the long barrel with the baffle at the end.
“They don’t need any help,” said Katy.
“Yeah, that’s what they’re thinking,” said Jolo. “Now go!“ She just smiled at him then turned and started jogging back toward the Argossy.
Jolo was faster than any human, but the Jaylens were faster still. The sharp-shooter marine waited until the first Jaylen was in range and took her out. She fell and slid along the white sand for a few seconds. A little dust cloud kicked up, but the other three leaped over her and didn’t miss a beat. Meanwhile the marines standing behind the sharpshooter went from a crouched, ready position, to standing straight up like they were waiting in line at a core-world beer garden. One down, three to go. Recharge time on a long-range Fed issue energy weapon is about four seconds. The three remaining Jaylens did not attempt to deviate, made no moves to throw off the next shot they knew had to be coming. Unfortunately the Fed boys were not savvy to the ways of the blonde girls in black. And the boys in blue were playing their part perfectly.
Rule number one in any encounter with a Jaylen is don’t let her get close. The marine with the long rifle took out Jaylen number two and the other marines were high-fiving and slapping each other on the back.
The other two girls kept coming. They knew from the start they were going to win. Jolo increased speed but he wasn’t fast enough. The Jaylens had calculated their move perfectly. They knew the proper approach speed, had factored in the soft surface, the slight tail wind and the downward curve of the dune. When Jolo saw the first Jaylen to be shot suddenly stand up and resume the chase, he knew the four marines were dead.
Unless he could get there first.
Fifty meters out the marines took down Jaylen number three, but it was too late. The fourth jumped high and came down with the sun in the marines’ eyes, a small red energy blade in either hand like two claws. The marines tried to bring their weapons to bear on the thin girl in black, but it was like they were moving in slow-motion. She landed in the middle of the marines, her red blades flashing. Jolo was a hundred meters out but got off a shot when she jumped to avoid an energy blast. His bullet took her out but by then two more previously fallen Jaylens arrived and it was all over. The marines were firing wildly. The two black demons with the red knives cut them apart. Jolo took another Jaylen down, but when the dust cleared all the men in blue were on the ground along with the pilot. And the final Jaylen, upon seeing Jolo, turned and ran across the sand in the other direction.
Jolo stared down at the mess. Five Feds--five more humans gone--and for what? One of the Jaylens started to reboot and Jolo put a bullet in her head. And then he heard a scream. He looked back at the Jaylen still heading off in the other direction.
Katy.
He ran back toward her. She had an energy weapon, but he didn’t want to take any chances. She could fly the Argossy better than any man, but was a wild shot with a blaster under pressure. He should have brought Greeley. The big man wanted to come, but Jolo had selfishly chosen Katy. He just wanted to be with her, not on the Argossy or some Fed boat in space. He just wanted to be with her on a dune breathing clean air. And they could pretend everything was okay and weren’t hiding out with a bunch of disgruntled Feds.
Jolo crested the nearest dune and could see Katy a ways off calling the Argossy on her wrist comm. He imagined Koba firing up the Argossy, and Greeley running to get his sawed-off shotgun, Betsy. But Jolo didn’t want to be late to the party twice. The Jaylen was tracking Katy with a single-minded purpose, head down and determined. Her gait was graceful and athletic, no wasted motions. Just deadly speed.
He reached out to the synthetic girl with his mind. It was a risk but maybe he could slow her down. “Do you know who I am?” he said to her.
“We know you,” she said. “You will come to us soon enough.”
&n
bsp; “Stop and I will come. The Feds are all dead and the human girl bores me.”
“You lie, Jolo Vargas,” she said.
By then Katy knew she was in trouble. She kept glancing back, both hands on the small energy blaster she carried. Jolo was still too far off to get a shot, but then he could just make out a wavy, gray speck in the distance. The Argossy was coming. He could hear Koba engaging both thrusters and the air around the big gray ship shimmered in the heat.
A human would have turned and ran for cover by now. The odds were against her, but the assassin in black wasn’t worried about that. She was part of all the Jaylens and would never truly be separated from her sisters, even if her synthetic body was destroyed. She could upload her consciousness in less than a second if a BG ship or another Jaylen were in range. Even if she was utterly alone, she would still sacrifice herself.
“I’m going to kill her,” said the synthetic girl.
“Not today.” Jolo briefly considered stopping to take a shot but kept going. The blonde girl was getting closer and Katy was slowing down. Her strides grew heavy and labored and finally she quit and fell in the sand. She lay motionless for a split-second then popped up again with the little blaster aimed at the thin girl in black. The Argossy was getting larger but not close enough, still out of range.
Jolo fired on the run, and missed. The blonde girl still closing.
“She is mine,” said the synth assassin.
Jolo squeezed off two more out-of-range shots. Neither finding their target. And then he started to get worried. He had to dip into a slight trough between two dunes and for a few seconds he wouldn’t see Katy. He couldn’t go any faster. “Koba, where are you? Get a bead on the Jaylen,” Jolo said on his wrist comm.
“Already on it, Boss,” said Koba. “I’m full out and Greeley’s got manual control of the forward railgun.”
The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Box Set Page 40