Jolo stood in the center of the big hangar, the BG ship to his left and several rooms to his right. A door opened on the back wall and he heard a shuffling sound as George hopped out of the elevator.
“The elevator got stuck one level up. What’d I miss?”
“Not much,” said Jolo, a pool of blood forming around his right foot.
“We’ve got to stop the bleeding,” said George, hopping towards Jolo.
“Where’s Katy?” said Jolo.
“There,” said the synth, pointing with the gun at one of Marco’s side bays. Jolo started limping towards the door, George hot on his heels. It was thirty meters off and after a few steps Jolo started to feel lightheaded. He stopped and swayed for a moment. George sat down and promptly fell over, not used to having only one leg. We’re too close to fail, thought Jolo. But he could feel his body starting to get cold. A shot of pain in his leg brought him back as George tied a piece of thin cable around his upper thigh. Soon the blood flowing down his leg slowed to a trickle, little warm rivulets, his pants leg wet. He focused on the one thing: Katy.
He took a few tentative steps with the Colt out, George hopping alongside with Betsy.
“Sad rescue team we turned out to be,” said Jolo.
Twenty meters from the room the big door burst open and a mech stepped into the hangar. Its staff was lit and it had taken several steps before it even realized the rescuers were standing between it and the space ship. Jolo watched as it stopped and spun the staff around, the ends glowing red. It took a step forward, scanning the room, and then crouched, its movements amazingly fluid and natural for a mechanical beast. Jolo laughed, “Your little blond assassins are dead.”
“And your time is up, Jolo Vargas. As we speak the galaxite is starting down towards the planet’s core. Can you feel the heat?”
Jolo stepped forward, fired two shots at the BG’s chestplate, both bullets bouncing off. The mech, unfazed, leapt towards them with the energy blade high and ready to strike. This was an overlord, thought Jolo, with reinforced armor. “Aim for the head,” yelled Jolo, jumping to the side as best he could. He got another two shots off and the BG’s head rocked to the side, then a shot from Betsy and the lights in its ocular receptor went dark. Jolo and George continued the barrage, the mech swinging the staff in a wide arc trying to take one of them down even though it was relying on its heat sensors instead of sight. It jumped again, this time towards the ship. It was far faster than Jolo and made it to the rear of the ship, reaching out with its metal tri-grip hands to feel its way into the rear hatch. It was nearly inside by the time Jolo made it there. He fired a few more shots but by then the hatch was closing and the ship’s engines were winding up. It was leaving. Jolo looked out towards the big opening and the bright Duval sky had turned orange, heat waves rippling upwards.
He shuffled back, his leg throbbing, towards the hangar door as the BG ship made its way out. He could hear screams as he got closer and feared the worst. He reached for the door knob and it was locked. He yelled for everyone inside to stand back and he shot the knob off and pushed the door open. Merthon and a bloody-faced Marco stepped out into the hangar. “Where’s Katy?” said Jolo.
“She’s fine,” said Merthon. Jolo ran inside and there she was. Her head was wrapped in someone’s old shirt and her left eye was swollen shut but she smiled when she saw him.
“We look like shit,” she said.
“I know. But we’re gonna make it.”
“I need to tell you something,” she said.
“Yeah, me too,” said Jolo. And then he paused for a second. He brushed her hair away from her eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Jolo stood there for a moment wondering if they should leave.
“You’re supposed to kiss me,” said Katy.
“Oh.” He kissed her and held her in his arms. And even though the very ground under his feet was heating up he felt a calm overtake him, a deep peace and feeling of wholeness that his new self had never felt. A synth can’t do this, he thought.
Duval
Duval
0 days left
The Argossy set down next to the burned out, charred remains of the transport, flanked by three Fed gunships and five smaller Wasps. Two of the gunships, including Trant’s old boat Nymeria showed signs of a fight. Trant’s ship had scorch marks along the aft skirt near the port engine and a heat plate had been blown off. Black smoke was pouring out of the other gunboat’s starboard engine.
“Did you get Bertha and the kids?” said Jolo, when Barth, Koba and Greeley came down the rear hatch. Before anyone could answer five skinny kids came running down the ramp onto the hot sand. “It’s not safe here,” said Jolo. “Get them out of here. We can’t defend against an attack on the ground.”
“All the BG boats have turned tail and jumped out,” said Barth. “Besides, we’ve got other problems.”
“Worse than a planet blowing up?” said Katy. Barth didn’t smile.
“Bastards blew all the transports,” said Greeley. His left arm was held close to his body with gray conduit tape. “No one got out of Jaxxon except the kids and we had to fight off a mob of
