But watching the Fed ships turn and run as the black worms trained their guns on his boat had hurt him worse than any battle wound, had burned a hole in his heart, had thrown everything into question. He’d given the better part of his adult life to the Federation only to have them throw it back in his face. His wife was gone and he had no kids. They couldn’t take anything from him. Couldn’t manipulate him by threatening to send his children to a work planet. So once the gray-haired Fed man had calmed down and Jolo had outlined his plan, to attack a Grana outpost and take out as many BG as he could, the commander agreed to allow his crew to go. But he had one condition: that he would remain as commander.
Jolo agreed once Falkowski promised to help carry out the plan. The fact was, Jolo needed him. Someone had to command the Leviathan, to draw the attention of the BG while Jolo snuck down in the Argossy to the surface, down to the large building near the green pool, down to Jaylen.
There were a few BG Cruisers at the first jump point, but with each successive jump, there were fewer and fewer. They couldn’t predict where the Leviathan would go in a galaxy of stars. Jolo rendezvoused with the Argossy on New Tupin at the fourth jump point, and continued to jump further out towards the BG held planet called Montag. If there were any worries if the Corsair was, in fact, the Leviathan, these fears were laid to rest when she made the seventh jump into Talen, just outside the BG patrol zone. Until then she’d never been out of Fed space, had never made more than a two-jump trip beyond Sol. It was forbidden by the President.
McCarty calculated she still had enough juice for another six jumps. At this point Jolo gathered everyone on the bridge, Katy and his crew, plus the commander and seventeen volunteers from the Corsair: four bridge officers and thirteen marines, most older veterans of the war, some who’d fought with Jolo Vargas.
“Our advantage is surprise,” said Jolo. “They don’t know we’re coming. As far as the outer patrols go, we’ll send the Argossy first to draw the BG boats in, then crush them with the Leviathan.”
“What about guns? The Cors—, I mean, the Leviathan has no offensive weapons,” said one of the commander’s officers.
Jolo nodded to McCarty. “The commander led us right to them,” the engineer said. “We found the guns hidden behind the stabilizers, both port and starboard have massive ion cannons, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And under the observation cap up top is a giant rail gun. It’s got Fed markings, but it looks like a one-off.”
“So you knew?” said Katy to the commander.
“Not many did. But I had a feeling she was more than advertised,” he said.
“Are the guns online?” said Jolo to McCarty.
“They’ll be ready by tomorrow.”
“Okay. Tomorrow we go,” said Jolo. “We’ve got to jump into the first patrol point and take out the long-range Cruisers, and keep going until we make it to Montag. The commander will take the Leviathan and I’ll take the Argossy. Commander, destroy everything in your path except the old Vellosian building separate from the main installation.”
……
That night the Leviathan was eerily quiet: a ship the size of a small settlement but with only twenty-four people on board. Hurley and Koba made sure the Argossy’s fuel cells were charged and ready. Greeley and George busied themselves making sure the weapons were functional. And after Jolo had gone through the official Argossy pre-trip checklist on his computer, he strolled the empty corridors of the Corsair, eventually ending up on the library on level IV.
The library was a series of small rooms made of glass, each with a glowing orb in the center. He stepped into one of the rooms and the door slid shut and all was quiet. He could hear his own breathing, almost hear his own thoughts. The walls went white and he was alone for the first time since his father’s house. It was perfectly clean inside, not a speck of dust, every surface was like a port screen, even the floor, and suddenly he felt like he needed a bath. He could smell his own sweat and the old leather holster.
“Computer, find Jaylen Voss,” said Jolo.
“There are no entries for Jaylen Voss,” came the reply.
“Is your data up to date?”
“The Corsair carries the current Federation database. There is no other more current.”
Jolo sat on the floor.
“Who am I?” he said. The light shifted and there was a green flash across his eyes.
“I do not know,” came the reply. “You are a hybrid. Man and an unknown organic, not synthetic, yet not human.”
“Am I Jolo Vargas?”
“You cannot be Jolo Vargas. Captain Vargas died in battle.”
Jolo took a deep breath. For a moment he relaxed, was not worried about escaping the BG or the Fed, or worried one of his crew was in danger; if he wasn’t being attacked by two black alacyte warriors, then Jaylen was there. He watched her in his mind, wondered if she’d finished Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast. Wondered if that was just a dream.
“The answers aren’t here,” said Katy, stepping into the small room.
“Then where?”
“Out there. On Montag. We’ll find her.” She sat down next to him and they were quiet for a moment. “Computer,” she said. “Take me to Regalus VII, pre-war, to the fields of fire in Spring.”
And suddenly the room
