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

  “Probably,” said Koba.

  “But how do we beat the synths without kinetic weapons?” said Barth.

  “We don’t,” said Katy.

  “Well, getting on the planet won’t be an issue,” said Jolo. “Just get near it, let it pull us in, then get the guns and hope we can find a way off.”

  “How sure are we about the weapons caches?” said Marco.

  “Earth’s population decreased by 74% in a fifty year stretch near the end. Whole cities were wiped out. All of it was left behind. I imagine we’ll find anything Earth had to offer, there for us to take,” said George.

  “Let’s sleep on this and see how we feel in the morning,” said Jolo. “Barth, you and the brain trust here,” he said, nodding towards George and Koba, “try to find anything else you can about Earth. Anything that might prevent ships from reaching the atmosphere.” Everyone stood and Marco gave him a look. “Oh, almost forgot,” said Jolo. “Merthon will leave with the Duvalites on the Sugoka.” Jolo shook the tall Vellosian’s hand, “Find a way to kill the Jaylens.”

  “I will. I’ll miss you all,” said Merthon. “There’s a rehydration tank that I can use and Marco will help Bertha lead what remains of the people from Duval. I hope to see you all again under better circumstances.”

  Everyone headed back to their quarters except Jolo and Marco. They both stared at the images the computer had pulled up of old Earth: cities and green forests and rivers, and those metal boxes on wheels that transported people and goods on black strips across the surface of the planet. There were no proximity sensors to prevent collisions. And they ran on internal combustion engines. Barbaric. Would there be any trees?

  “I’m proud of you,” said Marco.

  “Haven’t saved anyone. Haven’t even decided to go yet,” said Jolo. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going with Merthon. The Duvalites need leadership and I’ll do what I can.” He put his hands on Jolo’s shoulders. “You always do the right thing. Go with your heart.”

  Trant

  Jolo tossed and turned all night in the tiny cot in the spartan quarters he shared with Barth aboard the Persephony. He sat up in the darkness and stared across the room at the big engineer, snoring loud and deep. Barth would hit a bass note then raise up to a nasally high, then back down again. Jolo was thirsty. And he wished, not for the first time, that he was back on Duval, or in deep space in the Argossy waiting to relieve some big hauler of a bit of cargo. At least there, he had water. And options. And he didn’t have to sneak around to see Katy. Kray sent her off to be with the other female crew members, and stuck the rest of Jolo’s crew in the scraphole, a series of bunks near the main engine.

  “Go to bed,” said a tired voice. Barth hadn’t moved, but he’d stopped snoring.

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

  “Sure as hell ain’t gonna go on a Fed death mission with that nutjob, Kray.”

  “Well, the nutjob has already shot down two ships trying to desert.”

  “Fed boats?”

  “Naw. Privateers.”

  Jolo sighed. “Earth?”

  “Let’s see… Nutjob’s death mission and get ripped to shreds by some little blonde-haired synth with those annoying red energy blades, or Jolo’s death mission to be killed by some damn ship-sucking Earth monster.”

  “You believe that shite?”

  “I heard enough of it coming from different sources to know there’s something going on. Monsters? Well, who knows, but I seen too much of this galaxy to rule anything out.”

  There was a moment of quiet and Jolo laid down again and took a few deep breaths, started to feel sleep coming at last. And then someone knocked on the door. Jolo jumped up thinking it was Katy. But the door slid open and there was a tired-looking, night-duty grunt standing there in a gray uniform. He looked at Jolo without saying anything and yawned.

  “Why are you here?” Jolo said finally. “And what unit are you in?”

  He scratched his head and rubbed his eyes. “Um, sorry. Holding. I’m from holding, sub-level 6. I believe one of your crew is there now.”

  “Why?”

  “Fighting in the water hole,” said the man.

  “Lemme guess,” said Jolo. “Big dude with an ill temper?”

  The man shook his head. “And this.” He handed Jolo Greeley’s sawed-off shotgun, the butt end sticky and wet with blood. “Sorry,” the man said. “He appears to have used it to some effect on a Federation man.”

  Barthelme sat up and put his feet on the floor. “Did he assault an officer?”

  “Yes. Captain of the Forntenroy. A Galaxy class freighter.”

  “Can I see my man?” said Jolo.

  “Yes, holding cell 34R sub-level 7. There’s to be an inquiry of course but he won’t be going anywhere until then.” The man started to salute, then stopped, and turned back down the dark hallway, the sound of the big engine in the background.

  Jolo turned the lights on and Barth squinted and put his hands over his eyes. The butt end of Betsy was dark red and glistening. Jolo took it to the sink, then remembered there was no water, and grabbed an old rag and cleaned the gun.

  “You want me to go with you?” said Barth.

  “No. You rest. I’ll go.”

  “Good. I really didn’t want to go. I just said that to be polite.” He laughed at his joke, slapped his pillow a few times and laid back down.

  “What are they gonna do to him?”

  “We’ll be lucky to get him back.”

  “Humans that can wield a firearm are in short supply.”

  “Never accuse the Fed of applying sound logic to any situation.”

  Jolo stared down through the invisible cell wall at Greeley. There was a cot, but he was laying on the cold floor on his side. His clothes were torn in some places and half his face was covered in blood. Jolo wondered if he’d been beaten with his own gun. Jolo remembered being in a cell just like this with Barth and Greeley not too long ago. He sat down on the floor. “Greeley, can you hear me?” The big man did not move.

  Jolo frowned. Greeley’s arm was tucked under him at an odd angle and he wondered if it was broken. It looked like he’d been thrown into the cell and now he wondered if he was conscious. Jolo walked down along the row of cells to the end. Most of the energy walls were opaque so he couldn’t see in, only a hazy silhouette. Jolo told the bot guarding these cells that Greeley needed medical attention.

  “34R’s vitals are within spec,” said the big gray bot.

  “That’s fine,” said Jolo, “until they are out of spec and he’s dead. And if he dies I will come back here and retire your ass.”

  “Threatening a Federation employee is an actionable offense.”

  Jolo went back to Greeley and watched him for awhile. His breathing was labored and half his face was covered in dry, black blood.

  “Stop worrying, Captain,” said a voice from behind. Jolo turned, and there, standing in the cell opposite Greeley was Marin Trant, once captain of the Federation gunboat Nymeria. The man who killed Silas Filch.

  Trant had turned the cell wall transparent and inside was a bed, a desk, even a large vid screen on the wall.

  “I thought they space-walked killers,” said Jolo.

  “You: maybe. Not me. Some wanted me dead. Some didn’t.” Trant stood there with his hands in his pockets. He looked clean, well fed, his skin supple like he’d had enough to drink. Orange coveralls. Jolo flashed back to Sol when they were about to send him off to a work planet.

  Trant pulled him back. “Any news?”

  “Kray’s going to attack some of the outer rim BG strongholds.”

  “Is he nuts?”

  “Do you wish you hadn’t killed Filch?”

  “Sometimes. But Filch never really had the best interests of the Federation in mind.”

  “In the end, I think he did. The President was a synth.”

  “Damn. You tell Kray?”
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  “Yeah. They don’t really listen to me much.”

  “Me neither. Did he not see the vid?”

  “What vid?”

  “You’re not a very good pirate, Vargas. You recovered the listening post and you didn’t even think to extract the data? How trustworthy of you. Have you learned nothing from these idiots?” He laughed.

  “No one has ever accused me of being honorable.”

  Trant motioned him over and then turned on his vid screen. “Here’s what you missed. Trant showed him the same vid that Kray had shown just hours before.”

  “I’ve seen this.”

  “Wait.”

  The vid played just as it had before and at the end, just like before, the Fed were victorious, but this time the vid didn’t stop. The Fed units were standing around and then all at once the Jaylens were alive again and the droids in space above them could not target the Jaylens because there were troops all around. Same with the land cats. In the end there were only the blonde girls standing.

  “How’d you get this? Why would Kray decide to fight after seeing this?”

  “Oh, he didn’t see it.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “Why? He won’t believe you. He has a plan, remember?” Trant stood there grinning like it was Jolo in the cell. “So what’s your move?”

  Jolo stepped back, looked over at Greeley still taking ragged breaths. “Run to Earth. Get weapons to beat the synths.”

  Trant started laughing. “Damn. You are quite the patriot. Defender of the realm. Federation man ain’t afraid to die and all that bullshit. Is Jolo Vargas really in there?”

  “How come the guy in jail is the only one who thinks I’m a trustworthy patriot?”

  “Okay. Here it is,” said Trant. “I want off this boat. There is a contingent of like-minded people who are ready to go with me. If you want to come you are welcome.”

  “Kray won’t let you out. He’ll blow you away before you can jump.”

  “Oh, he’s going to let me out. Only that’ll be the last time I’ll see him.”

  “You gonna kill him, too?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind. But no. I’m going to run. I think our chances are better if we travel a little lighter. Come with us.”

  “How’d you get the vid? And why hasn’t Kray seen it?”

  “One of my people got it before the listening post was compromised. The vid was altered, but we got a copy before they got to it.”

  “Why don’t you show it to Kray?”

  “Knowledge is power and all that,” Trant smiled. “The BG have spewed that little bit of fiction all over the galaxy. They probably don’t know where we are. Besides, Kray’s not going to believe it coming from me.”

  “I know the feeling. But the Fed have to know. It’ll save lives. Maybe prevent more useless deaths. Maybe if they saw it they’d decide to run.” Jolo took a step towards Trant’s cell. The invisible cell door hummed and made his hair stand on end.

  “Don’t get too close,” said Trant. “The shock would take down a big man. But maybe not you, huh?” It was a shot, but Jolo didn’t bite.

  “Ok. Give me the vid and I’ll run it on the local network here so everyone can decide for themselves.”

  “What do I get?”

  “You get to be the hero?”

  “You mean captain who ratted out Kray?”

  “Former captain,” said Jolo, tired of fencing with Trant. “Now you’re just jail bait on a doomed Fed ship led by a guy who thinks he can take down the synth girls on the ground. You have no plan. You can’t get out of here any more than he can.” Jolo jerked a thumb back towards Greeley. “Actually, he’s got a better chance of getting off this boat because I am standing on this side of the cell.” Jolo stood with his arms folded and a little smile on his face.

  “You don’t know shit,” Trant said. Then he stood and took a deep breath and held it. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a thin rod about ten centimeters long, then sat down in his chair and waited. His face turned red. He checked his watch. His eyes began to water and he slumped down onto the floor.

  “Trant,” Jolo said. “What are you doing?” Trant tried to smile but his face was contorted and sweaty and he still hadn’t taken a breath.

  The bot came up all at once. “Inmate 35S. Oxygen level below spec. Oxygen level below spec.” Soon a med bot popped in from the ceiling and the guard bot lowered the cell wall. The med bot gave Trant oxygen and he took a deep breath and started motioning the guard closer. The guard moved into the cell and Trant jumped up, jammed the thin rod into the bot through a mesh vent near the front. “Override code AXHEFV43,” Trant yelled. And suddenly the bot went limp. Trant kept the oxygen to his face, took a few more pulls then pushed the med bot away and it ascended up into a hole in the ceiling.

  Trant stepped out into the hallway, did a slow turn, then retreated back into his cell. “I have a plan,” he said, face still red and breathing hard. “I do have some people. But I’ll need your help to pull it off. That’s what I want in exchange for the vid.”

  Jolo sat down on the floor, reached for his flask, realized it was gone and spit on the clean white floor in disgust.

  “If you can get out why do you need me?”

  “I can get out of here but will need a diversion to get to the Nymeria. I can only get so far.”

  “Did you arrange to have Greeley brought here?”

  “Yes. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask.”

  “Would you have come?”

  “Good point. Okay. What’d you have in mind?” Jolo looked up at the ceiling, suddenly aware their conversation was being recorded.

  “Don’t worry,” said Trant. “The audio recordings on this level keep getting corrupted. Unfortunately.” He smiled. His breathing finally starting to slow. “There’s a small transport boat on level seven right near the outer door. Blow it up. Make sure the fuel cells burn. The doors will automatically lift to suck out the fire. That’s when I go. My people will take care of the ground crew.”

  “Don’t kill them.”

  Trant got angry. “Kill one dang president and they think you’re a mass murderer.”

  “When?”

  “Link me in to the Argossy’s comm system and I’ll let you know.”

  Jolo handed Trant his wrist comm. “You’re linked.”

  Trant gave him a mem chip. “Put that into any terminal on the Persephony and the vid will get out.” He grabbed Jolo’s arm, suddenly serious and cold. “I want to live. I want as many humans to live as I can take with me.”

  “Good. We are on the same page. Take care of my people. Take care of the Sugoka.”

  “I will. That’s our last hope.”

  “Hey, what about my trip to Earth to get weapons and save humanity?”

  “Historians will say it was Marin Trant who led the rebellion that saved humanity. You’ll be just another dumb boat that went to die on Earth.”

  “Now who’s the rah rah patriot?”

  “Don’t go to Earth, Jolo. No one comes home.”

  “There’s got to be an explanation. And we need the guns.”

  “If you do go find the Arcadia. My grandfather is probably long dead but it’d be nice to know what happened.”

  “Got it. Save the galaxy, and find grandpa. You watch over the Duvalites in the Sugoka.” Jolo stepped away from the cell wall and Trant pulled the rod out of the bot.

  “Revoke override code AXHEFV43,” Trant said. The bot rebooted and whisked back to its station.

  “When you escape, get Greeley. Tell him to go the Argossy.”

  “Good luck, Jolo.”

  “You, too.”

  Jolo made his way back to his room and threw himself down on his bunk. It was the last night he’d ever spend aboard the Federation Defender Persephony.

  Return of the Gunboat

  Jolo ran through the halls of the Persephony, warning klaxon blaring in the background. All a
ctive military personnel to duty stations. Level eight hull breach imminent.

  Jolo ran past the classrooms on level four, his heart beating fast. The rooms were empty and dark, the Duval kids aboard the Sugoka now five jumps out in the middle of nowhere in the opposite direction of Kray’s proposed target, Sarus. Jolo didn’t know exactly where the kids were but that was for the best.

  People were running every which way. Some to battle stations, some trying to get to the lower ship bays and get the hell out. One man was running faster than them all wearing nothing but a pair of tight, yellow underwear. Privateer in a rush, thought Jolo. And then he heard Koba, his voice distant, “Caaaap-taaaaain!” He’d forgotten the skinny mathematician in all the excitement. He slowed down and waited for him.

  Earlier that morning Jolo woke to the good news that one of the gunships had returned from Barc. Where the other two were, no one knew. And even though the fed brass had no intention of divulging any intel to the shleps, like Jolo and Co., who ate their brown in the common areas, spirits were higher for the first time in weeks. The crew, all except for Greeley, had gathered on level four for breakfast.

  “Maybe they know something that’ll help us get Barc back,” said Katy. She smiled and Jolo was glad to see it. It reminded him of when they were on Duval together and things weren’t so desperate.

  “Good to see you smile,” said Jolo.

  “She’s just perky because the bot gave her some extra green,” said Koba.

  “I’ll give it to you if you want, skinny boy,” said Katy.

  Jolo told them about Greeley and tried not to dampen their spirits. He left out the part about Trant and wondered exactly when would be a good time to let them know they were going to sabotage a Fed ship to let out a criminal. But then the warning message came over the comm and the hour or so of levity and hope aboard the Persephony turned to shite again.

  Everyone jumped up and right then the big ship lurched to one side and everyone hit the deck.

  “Did we just get hit?” said Katy, her voice high and shrill.