Late that night, just before falling asleep, the man thought to run his name through the computer. Computer, who is Captain Vargas of the Federation? he thought.
Captain Jolo Francis Vargas, Federation Star Captain, last assigned to the Federation Gunboat Jessica. Deceased. Pretty much what the Chief, uh, Captain said, he thought to himself.
And then he had a realization: the pod, and the computer within, was three levels down in a storage bay in about a hundred little pieces.
Computer, the man thought, how can you answer me if I’m not in proximity to the escape pod?
Invalid query, came the reply.
The President
Federation Home Word: Sol.
Office of the President.
“Please tell me he's a synth,” said the president, staring down from his suite high atop the Federation’s core legislative building.
“Negative, Sir. The scan says human.”
“That's not what we need, Johnson.”
“What do you mean, Sir,” said Johnson. “I thought that was good news.”
“Look down,” said the president. “What do you see?”
Johnson stared down into the mass of lights and people moving about in the city below. “Uh, people.”
“Yes, it's beautiful isn't it. People moving around. People doing things. Commerce. People not afraid to be on the street anymore.” The president stared down into his glass of synth-whiskey. “That's a hard fought peace. That's what you're looking at. Peace. Jolo Vargas will destroy that peace. He'll stir up the military. Get them thinking they can fight again. And then we’ll lose all of this,“ he said, motioning with his hand toward the people below, ice tinkling against the whiskey glass. Both men stared down into the bright lights in thought. There were vendors selling roasted meats, mothers pushing strollers, couples walking together.
“I can't risk this,” the president said.
“There are some who complain about prices,” said Johnson. “About pirates on the edge of Federation space, about the draconian commerce regulations set by the Bakanhe Grana.”
“Yes, but that is a small price to pay for this peace that we have now. I'll take slightly higher prices over those shiny black bastards and their warships any day.”
“So, Mr. President, what's to be done with Jolo Vargas?”
“Maybe he's a synth after all. And then those BG monsters can take care of him.”
“But Mr. President, Vargas is a war hero.”
“Yes, I know. But Jolo Vargas died on Montag. Another war casualty. There will be an inquisition and I believe the BG emperor himself will attend. The merchants will side with the BG. And so will we. It's all we can do.”
“And what about the military?”
“They'll fall in line like they always do.”
Hospital
Federation Home Word: Sol.
Federation Military Hospital, secure wing, level C.
After being in an escape pod for more than a month, having attractive young nurses bringing food was a wonderful thing.
"This fried, uh, fried meat is fantastic," said Jolo.
"You don't even know what that meat is,” said Barthelme. “As a matter of fact, you never liked that highly processed, protein-based, meat substitute crap before.”
“It's just so salty and warm,” said Jolo with a big mouthful. Barthelme stood there watching, slowly shaking his head. “So what brings you back here?” said Jolo. “I thought the powers that be had to you out protecting the Federation from the pirate scourge on the edge of space.”
The former chief eyed his boots for a moment then rubbed his chin with his good hand.
Jolo looked up at the big man and could tell something was wrong. "Listen, I have been having a blast here for the last week eating this,” he poked his fork into a greenish square of Federation food and held it up, watched it wiggle, then shoved it into his mouth and chewed. "So don't come and give me bad news.”
“That's called fed green,” said Barthelme. “You hated that, too. How much do you remember?”
Jolo scratched his head for a moment, looked over at the man sitting in the corner wearing a black suit, shiny shoes and a thin black tie. The man was looking out the window down onto the Plaza of Planets, pretending he didn't care.
Jolo looked the chief right in the eye and said, “I remember most everything,” which was a lie, but he hoped the chief understood.
“I just stopped by to give you some reading material. Compared to the escape pod this place must be heaven, but I figure on old western novel from Old Earth might help pass the time.”
The chief started to hand a small screen to Jolo but suddenly the man in the black suit stood up. "I'm sorry Captain, but you know the regulations.”
“Yes, I know the regulations you little slime-coated shill. This man is not an alien acquisition. He's one of us.”
The man in the black suit just smiled and sat down. Barthelme squeezed edge of the chair with his mechanical arm and the wood started to splinter.
He put the screen back into his pocket then looked down at Jolo and tried to sound cheerful. “Make sure to eat all of your green tonight at dinner. It'll keep you healthy and safe. Plenty of good nutrients there.” He looked Jolo in the eye and smiled. He said nothing to the man in the black suit.
That night the nurse came to bring Jolo’s dinner. He saw her standing outside the glass door. She had to pass a retinal scan before she could enter. She was always smiling and bright and he looked forward to her visits. She laid down his tray. “Is there anything else I can get for you Captain Vargas?”
He said no, then thanked her and stared down at his protein meat substitute and fed green wondering what the old chief had meant earlier. He also wondered why the nurses had to have a retinal scan to get in, and why the man in black always had to be there in the room. Even though Jolo’s memory was gone, he still had good instincts. And he was beginning to trust them more:
