The Cold Dead Earth (The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Book 3)

by J. D. Oppenheim

  “Very funny,” said Crenshaw. “You know as well as I do the synths do not have reproductive parts.”

  “Ahh, come on Crenshaw,” said Greeley. “Now who am I gone think about late at night when I’m all alone in my bunk?”

  “Captain Vargas, Admiral Kray has called a meeting in the Great Hall on level four at 1800 hours. God help you if you did not get the listening module.”

  Jolo nodded to George and he pulled the big module out on a hover cart.

  Crenshaw, sour-faced, turned and marched off.

  “George, you and Koba lock her down. I don’t want any Fed inspection team getting near the Argossy,” said Jolo. “Y’all get some rest.” He looked at Katy. “You wanna take a walk?”

  ……

  Jolo and Katy took the tube to the level 5 cafeteria, got two half cups of water and some dried sembei crackers and Katy steered him to a table in one of the common areas next to some small trees in big pots.

  Jolo grabbed a leaf and rubbed it between his fingers. "You know they are fake, right?"

  “Not if you squint."

  "Is that how you cope?"

  "Yes, squinting and dreaming." She stared off across the hall where the children were playing. There were big classrooms with glass walls that faced the hallway.

  "Why do we always end up here?"

  Katy looked across the hall at the kids playing in the rec room. "I guess there's hope here." The kids inside were running around and making noise. Most were refugees from Duval, they still had dark tans, no shoes, and rags for clothes. Occasionally Jolo would see a little, soft Fed boy or girl in uniform with shiny black shoes.

  Soon a bell sounded and all the kids queued up at the cafeteria chow line. There were at least a hundred Duval kids led by an old Federation woman. “Keep your hands to yourselves and form a sharp line!” she barked, but the ragged bunch of misfits jostled and elbowed each other for prime position in the front of the line. One tall boy that Jolo thought he recognized from Bertha’s place ended up in front.

  “These are Bertha’s kids?” said Jolo.

  “Most of them,” said Katy. “There are about five more big groups of kids like this. All orphans from Duval, spread out on the ship.”

  Four Fed kids rolled up right to the front of the line and the old woman put her arm out, blocking the tall boy and letting the Fed kids skip right to the front of the line. The cafeteria bot came and started handing out food packs. The tall boy pushed to the front and took the first one.

  The woman screamed at him and he turned to face her, almost as tall as she was. She poked him with an energy stick and he fell to the ground.

  Jolo and Katy ran over there to help the boy. “What the hell are you doing?” yelled Katy at the woman. She raised the energy stick up in Katy’s direction and Jolo ripped it out of her hands.

  “Use this again on a child and I’ll shove this thing down your throat,” said Jolo.

  “I don’t think so,” said a man in a light blue coverall. Another man in the same outfit stood next to him. They were big, probably worked some bottom-of-the-pay scale job in the bowels of the boat.

  “Is that so?” said Jolo, suddenly fired up again for the second time that day and it wasn’t even dinner yet. He turned to face the men while Katy helped the boy sit up.

  “Jolo, don’t,” said Katy.

  “Do what she says,” said one of the men.

  Jolo slammed the stick down on the back of a chair and it broke in half, blue sparks flying up. He handed it back to the woman and she scowled at him. “We saved you people. And now we feed your children,” she said.

  “And we are grateful,” said Katy, trying to diffuse the situation.

  “Little rats,” said the man in the coveralls. “Rats that eat too much.”

  By then the bot had resumed handing out food packs and Jolo and Katy stayed around until all the kids got some food and were heading back to the makeshift classroom across the hall.

  Jolo and Katy sat down with the tall boy and watched him eat. These were dry packs. Protein, carbohydrate and some vegetable matter in a hard, brown square. Jolo had seen the marine teams eat this stuff but only when they were traveling as light as possible, or rationing, or didn’t have a big Defender in the area to resupply. They called it brown dog and it made fed green look downright delectable.

  The boy ate the brown stuff and didn’t stop until he was finished, making sure to lick the inside of the pack until it was all gone. Then Katy gave him her water and he downed that. Jolo slid his drink over and he gulped that, too. He put the cup down and took a deep breath and smiled.

  “She always that nice?” said Jolo.

  “She ain’t like Miss Bertha, if that’s what you mean,” the boy said. “Miss Bertha comes by every so often, but she’s mainly with the little kids on level 12.”

  “How long they been feeding you that?” said Katy.

  “Right from the start. It don’t taste too good but I told the rats to eat every crumb. And they usually do what I tell ‘em. The kids with parents get a little green stuff thrown in, but we get mainly brown. It don’t matter though, we are alive. I tell ‘em that, too. My name’s Jessie.”

  “You’re a good man, Jessie,” said Jolo. “But do me a favor. Don’t call yourselves rats any more. You are from Duval, just like me.”

  “And don’t cross the Fed wench either, especially when she’s about to hand you some food,” said Katy. Jolo looked at her and took a deep breath. He hated to tell the boy to lay down, but what could they do?

  “You are leading those kids. Set a good example,” said Jolo.

  “And let them run over us?”

  “They’re sad because they lost everything,” said Jolo.

  “And we didn’t? We lost Duval,” said Jessie.

  “We have each other,” said Katy.

  “It ain’t right for that lady to let the Fed kids go first, but understand this: they don’t know if their children are living or dead or dying on a work planet.”

  “One day I will fight for them. I’ll fight for their families and their children,” said the boy.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Jolo. And he stood and shook the boy’s hand and Katy gave him a hug and he was off to the classrooms again.

  Katy and Jolo watched him go. “Good kid,” said Jolo.

  Katy held Jolo’s hand and pulled him close. “Merthon said everything works, right?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, down there.”

  “Well we know that part’s fine,” said Jolo, wishing he was somewhere else but suddenly having a discussion about his man parts.

  “I want us to try. Don’t you want a baby that’s a little part of me and you?”

  Jolo looked down at her and she was giving him a super-charged dose of angst and desperation which usually melted him down into a puddle and suddenly he was saying yes to everything.

  But this time he couldn’t. He stared off across the hall to where the kids were. The Fed lady had them reading, two kids per tablet. “Not right now. Not while the war is going on.” He stood up and straightened his jacket. “Kray is waiting.”

  A Federation Man Ain’t Afraid to Die

  Jolo and Katy sat down next to Marco, Barthelme and Merthon in the Great Hall of the Persephony. The last time Jolo sat in this room the old gunboat captain Marin Trant had shot Admiral Silas Filcher. It was like returning to the scene of a crime. Jolo looked up at the dais and couldn’t help but see Filch standing there with a hole in his chest. Jolo reached for the cup sitting in front of him, but it was empty. He fidgeted around in his seat.

  “Nothin’ good comes when you get the Fed brain trust together,” Jolo said to his father, Marco.

  “They couldn’t agree on what to have for lunch,” said the old man.

  “Y’all be positive,” said Katy. Merthon smiled and put his hand on hers.

  Kray stepped up to the dais and cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “Long live the F
ederation!” he yelled.

  “Long live the Federation,” everyone replied. Kray yelled it again. And the officers repeated it louder. And they did this back and forth a few more times until everyone was back slapping and fist pumping. And the crew from Duval clapped politely. Jolo glanced at Katy and she had a worried look on her face. And then he noticed Greeley’s seat was empty.

  Jolo leaned towards Katy. “What’s Kray sellin’?”

  “He’s priming them up for something,” she said. “You stay out of it.”

  “Alright. I ain’t gone say nothing.” Jolo sat back in his chair with his arms crossed.

  When the crowd calmed down Kray continued. “We have been in hiding for months. And information is still hard to come by. The BG have cut us off and we still don’t know the full extent of the damage to the core worlds. The recon mission to Barc has still not returned, but the listening post that Captain Vargas salvaged did have some valuable, encouraging intel.”

  “What of the Vexus?” said one of the transport captains. “We heard it was close.”

  “The last transmission came right before the listening post went down, and then just today Captain Vargas brought the unfortunate news that the Vexus and all on board were lost on Faraley. Captain Tomas and the crew will be sorely missed. Long live the Federation.”

  “Long live the Federation,” everyone repeated, this time with a somber tone.

  And there was a moment of silence. They were down another boat, not to mention the three gunboats Kray send a week earlier to recon potential water sources on Barc.

  “Well, if he couldn’t be bothered to help the crew, at least he saw fit to rescue the listening post,” said the transport captain, breaking the silence. She stared across the floor at Jolo but he kept quiet. There were rumblings among the officers and Kray told them to settle down, but the noise only grew. Among the muttering voices Jolo distinctly heard the word synth.

  Finally, Marco yelled, “If you want to say something, then out with it!”

  “He saved the listening post but the crew of the Vexus are all dead. He was there on that rock and did nothing.” There were rumblings among the crowd and Jolo couldn’t see who spoke. Katy put her arm out to stop him from standing and he nodded to her. He wouldn’t take the bait.

  Kray was calling for order and then another voice said, “We saved all of his people while ours died or were captured. And he can’t be bothered to help a dying Fed boat.”

  Suddenly Katy jumped up. “He gave his life for you people once already. And he tried to tell you what was happening but no one would listen. And he did try to save the crew of the Vexus!”

  Katy sat down and Jolo whispered in her ear: “Nice job of staying out of it.”

  “We wouldn’t be here right now if we hadn’t been out in the fringe trying to save that insignificant orange dirt clod, Duval,” said the transport pilot. “The Fed saved your people on that vile little rock while unbeknownst to us our families were being slaughtered.” She spit on the floor in the direction of Jolo and the rest.

  Jolo stood. “As we have said many times before, we thank you for saving the people of Duval. And I am very sorry the Vexus crew was lost. Four synths attacked and I tried, but could not save them.”

  A marine named Crasten stood. “I read the report right before this meeting. Captain Vargas killed all four of those synth creatures in an attempt to save the crew. No marine could have done better. There were four marines there in defense of the Vexus anyhow. They were all slain. All of you shut up.”

  Kray sent the transport captain out of the room, paused for a moment to give Crasten the stink eye, then continued. “We are all, understandably, tired of sitting out in space doing nothing. We are angry. Our nerves are shot. No one likes hiding.” He paused and surveyed the room. “The time for action has come.” Cheers from the officers.

  “Save the core!” someone yelled. And then more joined in. Jolo worried that Kray was going to dial up a major offensive and get everyone killed.

  “No,” said Kray. And Jolo breathed a sigh of relief. “We are outnumbered.” Jolo reached for Katy’s hand.

  “Maybe he ain’t as dumb as we thought,” said Jolo.

  “Our plan, which we are still working on,” said Kray, “will be a series of strategic moves to destroy the BG’s hold on the outer planets one by one. They cannot defend the core and the fringe, and we will cut them off one planet at a time, starting with the key water and food supply planets taken from us.”

  Everyone clapped and pounded the tables. “Now we fight!”

  “Or maybe he is,” said Katy.

  “Details will follow but the offensive will start with Sarus. It’s lightly defended and they won’t expect it. Then we’ll hit Barc and take back our water reserves.”

  “Admiral,” said one of the gunboat captains named Tarley, “Sarus is lightly defended, but I don’t know if we have the ships to defeat even one Destroyer and a handful of cruisers with the boats we have.”

  “Good point, Captain. That’s why we’re going to hit them on the ground.”

  “Our Vellosian friend, Merthon, has postulated that the worms are desperate. That their numbers are down and they need the core worlds because their home worlds are dying, which is why they created the synth creatures. But we have more people power than boats and our marines will not be denied.”

  At that the marine, Crasten, had a worried look on his face, but said nothing.

  “If this is the last of humanity, Kray’s about to wipe us out,” Katy whispered to Jolo. “Don’t they know the synth girls are gonna kill them?”

  “They got no experience with the girls,” said Jolo. “I imagine the core does at this point, but not this crew. The synth girls are new. We’re the only ones who’ve seen them. The BG have cut us off from the core.”

  The other marines in attendance puffed out their chests and got quiet. They reminded Jolo of Kawamoto, the marine on the Jessica long ago. He got that same look. It was satisfied and hungry and determined all at the same time. They knew they were about to go kill something. But Jolo worried they were all just going to die.

  “And now for a bit of good news,” said Kray. “The listening post was damaged but we were able to get a partial vid file of fighting on one of the core worlds. We think it may be Sol.” Kray nodded to a man in the back and the lights went down and a big holo-vid image appeared in the center of the room. The video started with a big cruiser in atmosphere blowing up and the officers cheered. And then the screen was just a blur of smoke and vegetation and water. But then it jumped to another sequence on a flat plain. “We think this is Corvis on Sol.”

  “Yes, Admiral. Look, there are Virginiana trees!” one of the officers shouted.

  “And now pay attention,” said Kray. There was a battalion of marines in full gear with four-wheeled land cats and fixed guns, smaller support wasp ships overhead, drones, everything. Suddenly about a hundred Jaylens attacked and Jolo sat up in his seat. Why would Kray show the Jaylens killing Feds? The Feds had no chance, no matter how much support they had. The synths were too fast, had better communication, better tactics, and could not be killed by an energy rifle.

  On the synth assassins came, blonde hair, black suits and each with those damn red blades.

  The Fed long range sharpshooters got into position and opened fire. And Jolo didn’t want to watch.

  “What is Kray doing?” said Katy. “We don’t need to see Feds get slaughtered.

  But then a funny thing happened.

  The long range sharp-shooters started firing. And Jaylens fell, and then the regulars got involved, and more Jaylens fell. And the fixed position guns mowed them down. And Jolo waited for them all to pop up and start killing Feds. But it never happened. The Fed battalion won easily.

  And the officers were elated. And the lights came on and Kray was smiling.

  “We are going to kill those little bitches, and those mech bastards!” yelled Kray. It had been a carefully orchestrated
pep rally and the crew of the Persephony and all of the other captains were ready for war.

  “That was a lie,” Jolo said to Katy. “The BG want us to believe this, but it ain’t true.”

  He stood up and Katy tried to pull him down. She grabbed his shirt and he moved her hand away. “Respectfully, Admiral Kray, I do not believe this plan will work,” said Jolo.

  “And I suppose the leader of the pirates has a better plan?” said Kray, the Feds all smiles and grunts of approval. Jolo felt all the eyes on him again.

  “I believe this vid to be a lie. This is what they want us to believe. I’ve seen the synth girls. I’ve fought them. They were made to defeat Fed marines specifically. I watched them on Faraley take down four marines, one with a long range weapon.”

  “The Vexus had just crash landed. Our marines were half dead from exhaustion,” yelled Kray.

  But Jolo continued. “What weapons will you use against them?”

  “We’ll use the weapons we have to defend the Federation!” Which meant standard Fed-issue energy rifles, and maybe a smattering of the upgraded versions that had more short range punch, but still would not take down a Jaylen. They’ll reboot just like the ones on Faraley.

  “Those weapons don’t work,” said Jolo. The Fed officers started grumbling again. Jolo eyed the big marine, Crasten, who’d remained silent. He was the only one who wasn’t smiling.

  “We’ve used these weapons against the BG for years,” someone said.

  “Yes, but not against the synths. Obviously no one got the message so I’ll lay it out for you. The Fed issue energy weapons won’t take down a Jaylen. They fall for a moment, then jump up and keep coming. On Faraley the last synth took three hits from an energy blaster, a rail gun shot from the Argossy that took one of her legs, and she still kept coming.”

  And finally, the lead marine spoke. “How do you kill them?”

  “With one of these!” yelled Greeley from the back of the room. He was holding up Betsy. “Or with a handgun like Captain Vargas got.” He pushed his way through the crowd standing at the back and plopped down in his seat. That set the Feds off again.