The Cold Dead Earth (The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Book 3) Page 7

  “I got us a present,” he said.

  “A dead man’s jacket. You are a pirate with no sense of honor or shame. And right now I love you.”

  “He don’t need it.”

  Jolo spread the jacket out underneath them and after a few moments he could hear Greeley’s breathing go into the steady rhythm of sleep.

  Jolo woke to the sound of a Fed hauler ship landing right on top of them. He jumped up and his head hit the tent and he and Greeley got tangled together and rolled aways. And Jolo, still half asleep and thinking they were going to get crushed by a landing pad of a big ship, finally made it out onto the ice. The big boat roared, it’s engines slowing down it’s decent. Jolo couldn’t hear himself think. Greeley was next to him yelling, but it was as if no sound was coming out of his mouth. Just the roar. The roar of a ship. Jolo looked into the sky, raised his arms to protect himself.

  But there was no Fed ship coming down on top of them, only brown sky. And the sound began to fade, but instead of rising off into the sky the roar became a deep rumble sinking into the earth. He looked where the dead man had lain the night before and he was gone. Nothing was left but a perfectly round hole where the frozen man had been. The earth rocked again one last time and Jolo nearly fell, but then the roar and the shaking stopped and all was silent again.

  Holes

  Jolo and Greeley stood on the edge of the hole, glistening on the sides, gently curving down into the ice as far as they could see.

  “Where’d Frosty go?” said Jolo.

  “I reckon he’s at the bottom of the hole,” said Greeley. He took a step and fell down onto the ice. “Right leg givin’ me fits this morning, but I’ll be okay. Got some metal in there that don’t agree with the cold. Not to mention the marathon yesterday.”

  “Black alacyte from a BG you blew up?”

  “Naw, Fed alacyte from a scrape with a dirty collections officer on Sarwal a long time ago.”

  Jolo changed the subject. “You didn’t see the ship that made the hole?”

  “The ship?”

  “Thought it was a hauler. An old one before they started going with the new single engine boats.” Jolo grabbed one of the brown blocks from the dead man’s pouch and tossed it down the hole. It slid along the side then followed the curve out of sight. Jolo tilted his head, got his ear close to the hole and listened, but never heard it hit bottom.

  “Weren’t no hauler if it put a hole in the ice,” said Greeley.

  “Yeah, they got diggers on the ice harvesters that can go down into the ice.” Jolo stood staring down into the perfectly smooth hole.

  “Maybe they got ice harvesters here,” said Greeley. “You think whatever it was got the dead dude?”

  “I suppose.” Jolo picked up the tent and started packing it into his bag. They’d made it through the night out in the cold and he didn’t want to push their luck any further. Katy was gonna be pissed. He needed to get back to the Argossy and figure out what to do next.

  “Let’s git out of here,” he said.

  But Greeley had the binocs and was looking off towards the south. “Cap’n. We got company coming and they don’t look very gentlemanly.”

  Three men approached from the south, two with ragged clothes like the dead guy, and each carrying a weapon. One had a blaster, one a long-range energy weapon and one had a steel-tubed rifle with a wooden stock like Betsy.

  “What’s the plan?” said Greeley.

  “They’re heading this way. Probably looking for Frosty. I don’t think they see us yet, so let’s stay low and get out of here.” They both were instinctively squatting low right next to the hole. Greeley started to move but then a shot rang out. The sound reminded Jolo of the Colt, just bigger, deeper. A bullet whizzed past both their heads and they hit the deck. Jolo rolled and had the Colt out and fired off two shots.

  “Too far off, Cap’n. And us with no cover at all against long-range weapons.” Greeley still had the binocs trained on the three men who had picked up the pace.

  “Yeah, just wanted to let them know we’re here.”

  “You just pissed them off ‘cause they picked up the pace. Hope they don’t get too close.” He swung around Betsy then hobbled on his one good leg to kneel next to Jolo, the shotgun pointed in the general direction of the armed men. “’Cause Betsy been itching to party.”

  “How fast can you move?” said Jolo. “They’re gonna pick us off if they get much closer.”

  “You go on. I’ll stay back and take at least two. Save you one.”

  “While I appreciate your consideration—” Another shot rang out and even though Jolo knew the distance was probably too great, his whole body braced. The lead projectile tore a hole in Jolo’s pack--black, frayed cloth sticking up, the impact pulling him back towards the hole a bit. Greeley reached out a big hand and pulled him down.

  “Greeley, I think we better run for it, even with your bum leg.”

  Jolo jumped up, fired two more shots and the man with the blaster fell into the snow. Then he grabbed Greeley by the arm and pulled him away and they started hobbling off.

  “I get the other two!” yelled Greeley. “It ain’t right you gettin’ all the—” but his words were cut off. A bullet caught him in the leg and he spun around and fell down, his head hanging over the hole.

  “Cap’n, you go now!” growled Greeley. “I’ll get the bastards.”

  Jolo took a deep breath. “No.” He fired another shot at the two remaining men and they slowed their approach. “Bastard’s will just pick you off. Stay here and shoot anything in range that ain’t me. Okay?” Greeley nodded. His face was red and sweaty, and he was clutching Betsy like his life depended on it.

  The man with the long-range weapon took another shot and missed. Instantly Jolo jumped up and started running straight for the two men. Why would they shoot first without even a word? Anger fueled Jolo and he covered the ground quickly and was within a hundred meters before the man with the old kinetic weapon had a chance to slide another bullet into the chamber. Jolo took another shot running full out and the man with the big gun fell. At that the other man turned and ran, but Jolo closed the ground and shot him, too.

  Jolo stood over the dead man. He wore the same mishmash of ragged clothes as the man in the ice. Except this one’s jacket had an Intrepid X61 patch on the shoulder. Jolo queried his computer. Intrepid X61 was a core world transport company, primarily hauling biomass between Arkus and Formalut in the early days of the expansion. The company was merged into the new Federation in 2382.

  Jolo picked up the big gun. It had a worn, wooden stock just like Betsy and a long barrel with an old-style glass lens scope and a homemade silencer. He put his right hand down near the trigger and his palm fit perfectly. He liked the feel of it: the smooth wood and the rough cross-hatched sections that improved his grip. He searched the man’s clothes and found another pouch of the brown food and also a box of bullets for the gun. He put both into his pack, held up the rifle and aimed at an imaginary Jaylen, then slung it over his shoulder and headed back to Greeley.

  He found the big man sitting upright near the hole staring straight ahead like he was meditating, but his eyes were open. Jolo got close and Greeley gave him a strange look. Jolo immediately went for the Colt, but it was too late.

  “Put the gun away or the big man dies,” said a voice from within the hole.

  Jolo slowly lowered his gun as a man jumped out of the hole onto the hardpack, a blaster aimed at Greeley’s head the whole time. “Put it on the ground,” said the man. Jolo thought of taking a shot but the man was behind Greeley and Jolo didn’t want to shoot his own man. The man inched over a hair and that was all Jolo needed. He dove to the right and had clear line of sight, pulled the trigger and caught the man in the arm.

  The shot tore through the man’s white jacket, spinning him around. He dropped the gun, and for a moment, Jolo thought it was over. Jolo picked up his blaster and threw it. The man fell off to one side clutching at his bleeding arm
and groaning in pain. Jolo ran to Greeley who was clearly not himself. His eyes were unfocused and his head lolled to one side.

  “What did you do to him?” yelled Jolo.

  “Helped him,” said the man, blood dripping down off his wound, onto the ice.

  “Is that what you did to the man? Did you help him, too?”

  “The man in the ice did his part for God and country.”

  “A man disappears down an ice hole and you laugh?”

  “That was no disappearance. The was simple biology. It was the correct thing at the correct time.” He paused and took a few ragged breaths. “Just as you two will serve your purpose here as well.” The man moaned, still clutching at his arm. Jolo glanced back down at Greeley and then suddenly the man jumped up, and with his good arm, pointed a small handgun at Greeley. “He will serve first.” Jolo had no time to unholster the gun so he shoved Greeley right off the edge and into the hole. He slid down out of sight and now the gun was pointed at Jolo.

  Jolo cursed himself for being careless. This man had bested him twice now. Jolo wondered if he could get the Colt in his hand before the man could fire. “Don’t even try. You’d be dead in short order.” The man stood as if he hadn’t just taken a shot to the arm, his breathing suddenly slow and steady and his eyes cold.

  “You don’t care if I am dead so why wait?” said Jolo.

  “Very perceptive. Your usefulness to me does not depend on whether you yet draw another breath of air into your lungs or not. Dead is best for an offworld male. You cannot propagate. And I have seed.” He grabbed his crotch and laughed.

  He was dressed differently than the others. His jacket was white and fit properly. It was made of a supple leather and wasn’t torn, except for the small bullet hole from the Colt. The man was short but well built and had cold, black eyes.

  The man paused for a moment in thought. Then he raised his head and Jolo knew it was game over. The man’s good arm started up, the small handgun just visible under the sleeve of the white jacket. Jolo rolled left and the empty hole swallowed him up and he fell down. He pulled the Colt and fired a shot upwards as the lip of the hole receded.

  Jolo saw the man’s head pop up over the edge, but by then he was too far down and the curve of the hole took him away from the man in the white jacket, away from the ice and the orange sky above. And he fell for some time, sliding on his back, fighting just to hold onto the Colt, hoping he could land on his feet at the end. Suddenly he wasn’t thinking of saving the Federation. Or guns. He just wanted to live. And kill the man in the white jacket.

  And see Katy again.

  Little Richard

  Jolo awoke in darkness, the air around him damp and musty. And for a moment he didn’t remember where he was. He sat up and his hand touched something he hadn’t felt in some time: dirt. He grabbed a handful and let it run through his fingers. He smelled it like his father used to do when he was a boy on Pleny. He’d rub it in his hands and hold it up to his nose and smile. It was good soil, he’d always say. Good for growing daikon and tomatoes and little boys.

  Another memory from a long time ago. It was a gift. He sat there in the dirt and thought of Marco and waited for his eyes to adjust. Then he stood and instinctively reached for the Colt. It wasn’t there, just empty leather holster, so he crawled around searching for it with his hands until he felt something cold and metallic, but it was a big rifle. And then the memory of the three men came back to him. Where was Greeley? He felt around some more and found nothing but more dirt and rocks, and then, on a patch of wet ice where the light was better, his gun.

  He holstered the Colt and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He looked around in the pitch black and headed towards a spot where the blackness had a little gray in it. He was heading down a long tunnel--the sides, like the bottom, moist earth. The grayness getting stronger with each step he took. After ten minutes or so the grayness had given way to a white light that pulled him onwards down the long underground path.

  He’d lost his pack and even the little pouch of black stuff they’d stolen from the dead man. But he continued on in this way for some time. His mind free to wander. Mostly he thought of Katy and the crew and wished that either he or Greeley was there on the Argossy. George is there, and Katy could handle herself better than most, certainly better than Koba, but after what he and Greeley had seen up top, he wished he could get a message to the Argossy. He could hear Katy in his head: I told you to take the battle suit.

  But I wasn’t expecting a maniac.

  Every so often a pathway to the left or right opened up on either side of him. The air changed slightly as he’d pass the openings, sometimes there was a hint of a breeze blowing. Some of the air coming from the side chambers had a fresh scent. He stopped at one, considered following his nose. But then he glanced at the light, pulling him in that direction. Other side passages were rank and foul, and he passed by quickly, his hand going for the Colt, his mind flashing back to the big thing sinking back down into the ice where the dead man was.

  Soon the light took shape: a square window on the far side of a large opening. There was movement inside. Jolo skirted around the edge of the empty space, clinging to the earthen walls. When he got close to the window the ground under him got hard. It wasn’t ice or steel, but small brown rectangles all lined up together which made a rough yet somehow pleasing courtyard. There was a picture of a pig on the window with a smile on its face, Hartmann and Sons written above that. The the light shone through onto the brown and orange rectangles, a distorted projection of the pig on top. Inside was an old man leaning over something. Jolo pulled out the gun and peered inside: tile walls with metal hooks on a conveyor belt leading into a cold room.

  And there, near the wall, Greeley was laying on a metal gurney, his eyes closed, but Jolo could see his chest rising and falling. The man, wearing an old apron stained black and rubber gloves, held a square shaped blade high over his head. Jolo did not like the look of that at all and ran into the room and fired one shot at the thick blade of the butcher’s cleaver before he could bring it down onto Greeley.

  The bullet ricocheted off the blade and broke the top left pane of the window.

  “Now you’ve gone and done it,” said the man. “Hazuki has killed men for far less than that.” He shook his head in disgust at Jolo, still standing there with the gun out. “Holster that thing. You here for pick up or delivery?”

  Jolo was caught off guard, and thought at first to just kill the man right then and there, but stopped. Jolo could stitch up a scratch but wasn’t sure about bullet wounds. He decided to see if the man could help. “Pickup.”

  “What took you so long. Thought this one was for prepping. Took two bots to pull this big slab o’ meat all that way.” The man peered at Jolo, squinting his eyes to gain focus. “You’re new.” It wasn’t a question. More of an accusation.

  “Yes,” said Jolo, trying to act bored.

  “Who sent you?”

  Another difficult one. Jolo thought the man in the white jacket may be Hazuki but wasn’t sure so went for the middle ground. “The man in the white jacket.”

  “Hazuki,” said the man. And then he paused. “So did he want this one prepped or fixed?”

  “Uh. Fixed. He was wounded up top.”

  “Yes, I see. Hmmm… I thought this one was going to be prepped for sure.” The man touched Greeley’s chest and arms, admiringly. “Almost double-sized, this one. But if Hazuki wants him for something else, then so be it. He’ll be ready in an hour or so. Small wound to the leg is all.” He stuck a finger into the bullet hole and Greeley moaned. “Doesn’t appear to be any arterial damage.”

  “Can you help him?” said Jolo, ready to shoot him if he made any sort of aggressive move. Though the man didn’t seem to be worried about Jolo at all.

  “I am the doctor.”

  “Do you have food?”

  “You lost your pack?”

  “Yes, up top.”

  The man shook his head. “Why
he keeps topside fools I’ll never know. Especially off-worlders who don’t know anything.” The man pointed to a dirty cabinet and Jolo, hoping for anything edible, found several small pouches of the black stuff he and Greeley ate earlier. He sat down on a chair and took a bite and watched the man work on Greeley.

  “You, uh, do a lot of prep work here?”

  The man looked at Jolo over his glasses. One lens was round and the other taped-on and oval shaped. He shook his head again and muttered something Jolo didn’t understand.

  Jolo tried another tack. “The brown rectangles in the courtyard are pleasing to the eye.”

  There was a long pause while the man fished out the bullet in Greeley’s leg. Greeley groaned again but did not regain consciousness. “Yes,” the old man said, the cleaver still there on the floor under his feet. “Original and ancient. They were here long ago during the final war. This was an underground area for God knows what. When the Japanese came to stay it was known as the Chikagai.”

  “So the Chikagai extends down that way?” Jolo said, pointing towards a big open space that extended as far as he could see. Jolo was pleased his info gathering session was going well, but didn’t like this man or the room and wanted out as soon as Greeley was ready.

  “Yes. Go exploring if you want to die. And then Hazuki will get pissed because he obviously wants you two alive.”

  “What about the thing that bores through the ice?”

  “Stop talking. Ignorance and verbosity are a bad match.” So Jolo watched as the man sewed up Greeley’s leg. His face was sweaty and the man gave him a shot of something and Greeley relaxed.

  “I’ll be going now,” said the man. He shuffled towards the far wall, took off his thin, brown coat, hung it on the wall, grabbed a hat and coat from a peg in the corner and put that on, then reached into a big drawer and pulled out a cat with a green collar. The cat purred in his arms and the man and the animal rubbed noses together. The man smiled, then looked up and realized Jolo was staring and put a smirk back on his face. “What you looking at?”