43 Days to Oblivion (The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Book 2) Read online

  “So the BG killed most of a freighter crew to steal a box of pretty rocks?” said Koba.

  “The rocks were used for fuel storage on old Earth,” said Jolo. “But that still doesn’t solve the riddle. What do listening stations have to do with galaxite?”

  For the next hour the crew tossed around different ideas about what the BG might be up to, but the session ended with no revelations, so everyone decided to sleep on it. George concluded there simply wasn’t enough data.

  Certain Things We Didn’t Want To Know

  Duval

  That night Jolo went to the library. Even though he could pull data from his own embedded computer, he liked using Marco’s large projection computer and surrounding himself with information. It was almost visceral, like he could touch it. He searched for data on listening stations. Each tower would pull in any electronic signal it could find within range, archive it, then send the data to a centralized computer in orbit for processing, the curated bits of were then sent on to the end user for analysis. Each tower then, could theoretically “hear” bad guys and potentially curtail pirate activity. Or that was the idea.

  He tried to find instances where listening stations were placed closer than necessary, maybe for signal boost, but nothing. Then he searched for planets with large numbers of listening stations. Duval was not on the list, but would be soon, he figured. Most planets with a high number of towers were on the fringe: the Fed wanted to know if a threat was coming.

  Jolo laid down on the floor next to the table, put his hands behind his head and stared up into the data. “Computer,” he said, “pull up the Fed planet with the most listening stations.”

  Frixion IV on the outer edge had the most towers of any planet. It was a well-used jump point to the uncharted bits of the galaxy. He pulled up the planet and had the computer mark the listening stations. Each tower was separated by hundreds of kilometers. Why were Duval’s towers so close? He was just about to give up, then issued one final query. “Computer, are there any planets, Federation or not, that have more listening stations than Frixion?”

  “There are no other existing planets that have more listening stations than Fixion,” came the computer’s reply.

  “What do you mean existing?”

  “To exist, verb, to have actual being; to be real; to have life; to live; to live at a minimal level. Do you want an example sentence?”

  “No. What do you mean by no other existing planets?

  “Query parameters include existing planets only.”

  “Computer, are there any planets existing or not that have or had more listening stations that Frixion?”

  “Yes. The extinct planet called Vellos.”

  Jolo jumped up, hitting his head on the edge of the large, circular table that held the computer. “Show me!” he said, rubbing his forehead, heart pounding.

  A 3-D image of the planet Vellos appeared and Jolo cleared the other data away. “Computer, pinpoint all locations of last known listening stations.” Small red dots began popping up all over the planet. There were thousands. “Computer, how far apart are these towers?” said Jolo.

  “Tower separation is about 100 kilometers.”

  “Why?”

  “Please clarify.”

  “Why position towers closer than necessary?”

  “There is no data to support any valid theories. One could say redundancy, but the concentration is too high.”

  Jolo ran out of the room and headed down to the deepest bay at Marco’s, the one where he used to hide the Argossy. Merthon had taken up residence there and had created, with the help of the old man and a few pirate trades, a makeshift lab to work in. Anytime Jolo found a bio-med box on a freighter he would grab it for Merthon, mainly to please Marco.

  Jolo was still angry at Merthon, though he couldn’t exactly come up with the right words to describe his anger. He wanted to scream at him, but only stupid lines like: “Why did you save me?” came to mind. Lines that most would figure deserved thanks. Marco treated the old frog like royalty.

  When Jolo finally made it down to the lower level, he found the tall, green humanoid throwing glass bottles across the room. The lab reminded him of the synth production facility on Montag, only smaller. There were three large tanks, each with the odd blue water that Jolo had seen before. Merthon even had a bot hovering over with a long tube stuck down into one of the tanks, an L-shaped thing growing inside.

  “What’s that?” said Jolo.

  Merthon stopped throwing bottles and took a deep breath. “An arm,” he said, like it was normal to grow an arm in a tank of blue water. “So you’ve decided to speak to me? Or have you come to take me out of my misery.” Jolo hadn’t said much to the Vellosian since Montag. Katy said to give it time and one day he’d be ready to talk. Maybe today was the day, thought Jolo.

  “Do you remember the listening stations on Vellos?” Merthon just stared at Jolo, his mind still working on water properties.

  “Jamis left me the key, but I am too much of a fool to see it,” said Merthon. Another reason Jolo hadn’t spoken to Merthon that much was that the old frog was constantly working on The Problem. Marco told Jolo that Merthon was working out a way to kill off the Jaylens. That there was an easy way to do it if you just knew what that easy way was. Another reason for Jolo to grab a med-box, but now he needed answers.

  “Merthon!” yelled Jolo. And the Vellosian went suddenly calm, big eyes blinking. “Do you remember the listening stations on Vellos?”

  “Yes,” said Merthon.

  “Who put them there?”

  “The black plague,” he said, meaning the BG.

  “When?”

  “Right before the end.”

  “Why’d they put so many of them in and why were they so close?”

  “I don’t know. They said it was for our safety.”

  “That’s the line they’re feeding us here in Duval.”

  Merthon stopped, took off his gloves and sat down. He stared at the floor for awhile. “It was spring in Arlas, where my parents had settled years before, and everything was green. Jamis and I were leading the synth production in the city, in the beautiful Vellosian facility. We created wonderful synthetic humanoids that could cook meals for little Federation families and clean Federation homes and take care of little Federation children. All without any human hangups, no pride or jealousy to get in the way, no thoughts of anything grander. They were sublime and simple. I bet the Feds secretly miss them. What synth uprising? That was the BG.”

  “What about the towers?”

  “I saw the first one from the upper level of the facility. A few hundred meters off. Then another. And another. And we went about our work. And then one day it was all gone and Jamis and I had been off planet so were saved. Only later did we learn it was because the BG wanted us alive so we could create for them.” Merthon looked up at Jolo. “And now they’re planting towers on Duval.”

  “I think we gotta go and check out one of these towers up close,” said Jolo.

  “If I came do you think I could kill one of the metal bastards?” said Merthon.

  “I think you should stay here and figure out how to kill the little blond devils.”

  “I’m stuck. I need something to shift my brain. I’m coming.”

  “You ain’t gonna last out in the sand.”

  “I’ve created a hydration suit.”

  “Can you fire a gun?”

  “You mean can I pull a trigger? I’m a creator, not an idiot. Let’s go now while it’s dark and cool.”

  Thirty minutes later they were heading due east to a tower 300 kilometers away. Jolo woke up Katy so she could pilot Marco’s little three-seater G2 Scout so he’d be free to babysit Merthon. The small hovercraft was quiet, wouldn’t draw attention, plus it had excellent scanners.

  “Is Marco gonna be pissed we stole his little boat?” said Katy.

  “No. He’s gonna be pissed we ran off with his little frog,” said Jolo. Merthon sat in the rear
seat wearing a thin, black hydration suit. He was holding Betsy in both hands like it was going to explode. “And Greeley’s gonna be pissed we nabbed Betsy.”

  “Is there anyone we haven’t pissed off?” said Katy.

  Jolo leaned into the back seat eyeing the sawed-off shotgun. “You sure you can use that?” Merthon held out the gun, left hand on the forestock, right hand easing down to the trigger guard. He held it away from his body and had it pointed right at Jolo.

  “Okay. Rule number one: Don’t point that thing at me or Katy.” Merthon aimed it down, then reconsidered, and pointed it right. “Good,” said Jolo. “Now when you pull the trigger hold on tight cause Betsy’ll give you a good kick.” Jolo settled back down into his seat, then thought of one more thing. “Don’t aim for the head. Go for the sure shot: center of the chest plate. Rock that worm inside!” Jolo found himself grinning like a kid at the thought of the gangly, black-suited Vellosian wielding a sawed-off shotgun and going toe to toe with a BG warrior. But he also had decided, before they even left Marco’s, that he would take down both of the BG himself. Let the frog shoot the worm inside once Jolo takes out the head. He wasn’t going to take any undue risks with Merthon.

  The Scout’s scanners picked up several towers on the way. Each listening station generated enough heat to register on the screen. They were laid out in a perfect grid, each one 100 kilometers apart. Jolo had decided to hit one a good distance from Marco’s so the BG wouldn’t come nosing around. Soon they were at the doorstep of a large tower. Katy stayed a good distance off in the Scout, Jolo and Merthon headed for the tower on foot. From a distance it didn’t look like much, but the closer they got, the larger it rose into the dark sky.

  Soon the half-synth and the Vellosian were standing there at the front door staring up at a monolith. It had four smooth sides, slowly tapering down to a point high up in the night air they could not see.

  “Shall we knock politely?” said Merthon. Jolo wondered if he was joking, but couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he waved him back and rapped on the smooth door with the butt of the Colt. Jolo stepped back and waited, expecting the first of two black metal warriors to emerge.

  Suddenly a small door opened ten meters above his head and a camera eye popped out. “This is Bakanhe Grana and Federation Alliance listening station number 4927, revision 2945.45. Citizens loitering within 50 meters of a listening station will be taken into custody and conscripted. Minimum 1 year of labor at a Bakanhe and Federation approved work release facility.”

  Jolo put a bullet through the camera eye and waited. “Might want to take a few more steps back,” he said to Merthon. “They usually have a few mechs in a listening station.”

  Suddenly out of either side of the tower, two armed hover bots popped out. They both had laser weapons that couldn’t pierce the hull of the smallest of boats, but could cut a man, even in Fed issue battle gear, in half. The bots gained altitude, found their target and quickly descended on Jolo. He jumped, and before they could change trajectory, shot one down. The other backed off quickly, but then came a loud BOOM as Merthon took a shot with Betsy. The bot zoomed high and headed away from the tower.

  “What’d you do that for?” said Jolo. “Marco’s gonna be pissed at me if you get yourself killed. Now that little bot is gonna come back from God knows where and try to take out the biggest gun.” Merthon made a little squeak noise and started running around in the dark. But there was nowhere to hide. “Relax,” said Jolo. “I’ll take it out. But now you’re gonna have to stand next to me because—” But he didn’t get the last word out. A round, metal flash came hurtling in from behind them, a tiny red laser line extending down to the ground was cutting a path straight for Merthon.

  Jolo knew he only had one shot. He led the fast moving piece of metal and fired, the bullet tearing through the bot’s covering just above the red dot that marked the laser emitter. It went off course and bounced off the ground out of sight.

  Merthon picked himself up and brushed the sand off his sleek hydration suit. Jolo stood in front of the door with his head tilted to one side. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Why couldn’t they just have two warriors inside like usual, he thought. Merthon stood beside him and for a moment there was silence.

  Then from the other side they heard a door opening and a rumbling sound. A large metal ball, about as tall as Jolo, rolled out from an opening on the back side. It stopped and suddenly four legs popped out, raising the metal body taller than a warrior, and it started walking. Jolo could see the red ocular lens on the front and just above that, a small cover opened and out popped a gun turret. It took aim at Jolo and he jumped out of the way, faster than the machine anticipated. The shot missed and Merthon ran to the side, keeping the tower between him and the bot.

  Jolo fired off a few shots. Each bullet bounced off with no damage to the mechanical beast. The cannon was now fully extended and mounted on a 360 degree swivel. It started tracking immediately. Jolo knew it would find his heat signature and if the monster got one shot on him there’d be nothing left. He landed near the back side and noticed the tower door was still open. He dove inside just as the bot located him. It took another shot and destroyed the corner of the door. Jolo landed inside, slid across a smooth floor and pressed his body against the wall. He could feel heat coming up from the floor and hoped this would hide him. There were no other doors to escape through. Nothing in the room except the listening station computer.

  The bot’s round metal body came into view through the broken door. It stopped and the big gun swung around instantly. Jolo figured this was the end, but then it rose a little taller and the red ocular receptor swung around to its left. Suddenly Jolo heard the sound of two small thrusters at full tilt and with a loud crunch the bot was gone. Katy had run it down with the Scout.

  He jumped out of the tower and found the big ball thirty meters off, the cannon laying near by in the sand. The eye was still red, but the bot was no longer round. The Scout was on its side in the dirt, the nose dented. Jolo opened the hatch and found Katy shaken, but fine.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “No worries. Gonna be a long walk home.”

  Merthon gleefully finished off the wounded bot with one shot from Betsy. And then they all went into the tower.

  “This is it?” said Katy. “Just a listening station computer.”

  “There must be more,” said Merthon. “And why protect the thing with bots?”

  “We should have expected that, I suppose,” said Jolo. “Think about how many of the dang towers there are. Do they have that many worms? Bots make more sense.” Katy tried to access the computer but there was no keyboard, no input method she could find. Merthon was running his long fingers along the smooth wall on the other side.

  Jolo got down on his knees and felt the floor. It was hot. And there was a noise. “You guys hear that?” said Jolo.

  Katy and Merthon shook their heads, no. “Jolo, your hearing is quite good,” Merthon said.

  “Dog good?” said Katy. Merthon smiled.

  “Jolo,” Merthon said. “Stop and concentrate on the source of the sound. Focus and you’ll hear it more clearly. Just focus on it.” Jolo sat on the floor and closed his eyes. The sound was faint and distant. He was sure it was mechanical, but that’s all he had. But then it started to come in more clearly, like he was tuning one of the old radios Marco and Bertha used. The sound became more defined. More concentrated. He could almost see it in his mind: a large, spinning rod that was grinding something. Grinding the ground. Spinning and crunching and tearing and moving. It was far larger than the tower itself and it was directly beneath them.

  Jolo stood up. “It’s some kind of spinning rod right under us,” he said.

  They all got on their hands and knees and felt the smooth, cold floor. Finally, Katy felt a small indention on the far corner on the other side from the computer. She pressed her fingers into it and suddenly the floor separated in the middle. It opened up and th
e sound came into the room. They stared down onto what looked like a giant, spinning top, larger than the Argossy, and they could only guess at how deep it went.

  “They’re drilling to the core,” said Merthon. “Jamis and I often wondered how the BG destroyed Vellos. Everyone thought it came from a secret weapon aboard a ship in orbit. A weapon that could heat up the planet’s core and literally explode the planet from within. But now I see we were wrong. It was far simpler and cunning.”

  “They drilled holes into the core of Vellos, but that doesn’t explain why the planet blew up?” said Katy.

  “I bet they used Galaxite,” said Jolo. It will store energy, but will explode if it gets too hot. That’s how they destroyed Vellos. And now the BG are gonna blow up Duval the same way.”

  43 Days

  Duval

  Everyone gathered in the library to discuss what Jolo, Katy and Merthon had discovered under the fake listening station. Merthon was absent, but this was normal, as he was always working on The Problem. Jolo and Katy were still covered in a thin layer of red clay, both tired and hungry from their trip to the listening station, but this couldn’t wait.

  Jolo put his hand on Katy’s shoulder because she wouldn’t stop fidgeting. He could hear her breathing, her body tense and agitated. George and the crew had come to rescue them in the Argossy and Katy hadn’t said a word on the way home.

  Jolo started to speak, but Katy couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why destroy Duval?” she yelled.

  “This planet may be a forgotten Fed property on the fringe, but during the war with the BG the military used it as a refuel point,” said Marco. “Without Duval, the Fed ships can’t get out far enough to attack Bakanhe space. But most importantly, Duval has alacyte production capacity. The Fed could start mining again and create ships. No other Fed planet has as much as Duval. Not even Barc’s undersea mining operations. If the Fed lose Duval it would hurt their ability to wage war. It’s a smart move for the BG.”