“If that hauler ain’t ready to make the jump out, then you give us a call and I’ll steal a transport ship or come in the Argossy.”
“I know. We couldn’t do this without you, Jolo.” She smiled at Katy. “And your crew.”
“I’m very sorry, Bertha,” said Katy, “but I’ve got one more for you. Jolo pulled her off an ice harvester on Sotec. Her name is Misha.” Misha had been hiding behind Katy and peeked out from behind her legs.
“Well hello, my dear,” said Bertha. Soon, Misha was hand-in-hand with another girl a year or so older. Katy gave her a kiss and said they’d be back to check on her in a few days. Misha walked off with the older girl, her eyes wide.
“She doesn’t speak,” said Katy.
“Give it time,” said Bertha.
That’s exactly what we don’t have, thought Jolo.
They ate lunch with all the kids inside one of the hauler’s storage bays. Bertha said they were going to try to take everything they had with them, hence the big ship. The kids sat around Jolo, dirty bare feet, ragged clothes, each with a plastic bowl of Fed meal pack stew with bits of fresh green. A tiny, messy-haired boy sat on Jolo’s lap and they all ate and laughed. The kids filled the whole cargo bay.
The kids demanded Jolo tell them a joke and he looked to Katy for help and she just shrugged. He wracked his brain but couldn’t think of a joke and decided maybe he didn’t know any. He took a big bite of Fed stew to stall for time but still nothing came. Then he remembered. He had access to every joke ever written in Fed space.
Computer, he thought, display a list of jokes. Instantly he had several thousand. So he started right at the top with Why do people not like restaurants on Galafor? He paused, staring into a sea of round, blinking little eyes. Then he hit them with the punch line: Because there’s no atmosphere. One tall kid laughed, but most just stared at him. The next one, about a space gnat on Qualus, also bombed. And the one after that. And most of the kids went back to staring down into their bowls and the cargo bay fell silent.
Not one to suffer defeat lightly, Jolo wracked his brain until inspiration hit. Then out of nowhere he stood up and said: Why did the BG Lord die a screaming death? Every little head popped up, all bug-eyed and leaning in. Now I got them, he thought. But then he realized he didn’t have a punch line. One of the kids in the back went back to his bowl, others began to fidget around. In desperation, Jolo said: “Because Jolo Vargas shot his ass!” And the crowd went nuts. All one hundred plus kids jumped up and started screaming, laughing, yelling. Bertha came and peeked inside to make sure everything was okay. More jokes followed: Why did the Fed cargo hauler lose four boxes of Fed rations? Because Jolo stole them! Again, pandemonium in the empty cargo hold.
Katy looked at Jolo. “You can’t say A-S-S to kids.”
Jolo shrugged, grinning. “I’m funny,” he said.
Katy smiled. “Just don’t try to entertain anyone over the age of, say, eight.”
An hour later Katy came and dragged him out. They had to get back. He was still grinning like a little kid as they said their goodbyes. But half way home to Marco’s Jolo’s face turned serious again.
“Why so quiet?” said Katy.
“Just thinking.” He stared off to the horizon, a straight, dark line to the west with pink and purple streaks of light above. “It felt good to play with the kids today. I like Bertha.”
“She loves you. So do the kids.”
He shifted in his seat, the jabs of pain sharper than before, the drugs wearing off. “Really?”
She laughed. “You are so smart and gifted. You can do things most people can’t. But you sure are boneheaded about the simple stuff.”
“Katy, I want you stay and help Marco. George should stay, too. I’ll take Barth. We’ve got to go. I have no faith in the tower busters. No faith in the Fed government. We’ll ask the military for help, they’ll say no, then I’m getting you, Marco, Bertha, the kids, everyone, out. And we can stop this little we-can-take-on-the-BG game.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Soon.”
“You’re not healed up yet. And Koba sucks at piloting the Argossy. I’ve gotten the reports from Hurley and Greeley and it ain’t pretty.”
“We’re out of time. Besides, I don’t need Koba to duel with the Fed, just get me there. Barth and Marco should know where Filcher is by now.” It was darker outside, the pink sky had become a deep purple. He looked at Katy, the green display lights silhouetting her sharp features against the night sky. He followed the curve of her nose down to her chin. He wanted to touch her.
Last Gasp
Duval
18 days left
Jolo glanced down at the screen while the computer made final calculations for the jump into Astid. Three more jumps would put them in Callen, and hopefully nose to nose with the Federation warship Persephony. Would Filcher see their
