“There,” said Jolo, pointing down to a small gray square surrounded by smoke and steam. Katy slowly decreased altitude and there, still standing on top of a small farmhouse, was the man, still holding the pig.
“We can’t lower the hatch,” said Jolo. “It’s hot down there and we don’t want anyone to spill out the back.” He paused for a second and then glanced at Greeley.
Soon Greeley was being lowered down into the heat in a Fed blue battle suit, which would keep him from getting burned. He grabbed the man, who was desperately clinging to the squirming pig, and they were safely in one of the lower holds a few minutes later. A med bot was waiting and the old man was a little hot and dehydrated, but otherwise okay.
By then the surface of Duval was a cauldron, most buildings had caught fire, trees burned like candles.
“Take us out, Katy,” said Jolo. And the gunboat gained altitude and then started the burn into orbit. They watched the orange planet grow smaller on the vid screen until the picture went black. And that was the last they ever saw of the planet Duval.
In Orbit
In orbit above Arcana, three jumps from the empty debris field that was once the planet Duval.
14 hours later.
Jolo and Katy walked through the large white corridors of the Federation Defender Persephony surrounded by a mix of ragged, dirty Duvalites and blue-uniformed Fed personnel. Some of the survivors from Duval were crying, some just stumbling along wide-eyed and shell-shocked. Jolo noticed the mothers carrying children had tired faces but still held their heads up, almost hopeful. They were alive, and that is a very good thing. But somehow Jolo couldn’t process what just happened. It was his job to save Duval, and he failed. Katy put her arm around him and smiled.
“How can you smile?” said Jolo. “You’re the one who wanted to save Duval. I was the one who was ready to evacuate early.”
“You’ve got no reason to be sad, Jolo,” said Katy.
“I couldn’t save Duval,” he said.
They kept walking down the large, hallway of the Persephony. It reminded him of when they snuck aboard the big Fed ship Leviathan. It seemed like ten years earlier.
“You did save Duval,” Katy said. “Look,” and she pointed through a window into a huge open room. There were kids everywhere, skinny, threadbare clothes and bare feet. Duval kids. Mothers with babies. Old pirates. Bertha came and gave Jolo and Katy a hug. They surrounded Jolo and Katy and everyone came up to Jolo and said thank you. Little kids grabbed his hands, pulled on his shirt, and mothers kissed him.
“I knew you would take care of us,” said Bertha.
So Jolo and Katy hung out with the kids for awhile and Jolo managed to smile, especially when the kids came and asked to play or wanted another of his famously bad jokes. He couldn’t play because of his leg but did get a few jokes in before he and Katy had to go to the meeting Filcher had called.
On the way to the meeting Katy pulled Jolo aside and gave him a hug. She looked up at him, her eye still covered in white gauze.
“What’s the matter?” said Jolo. “Filch is waiting.”
“I finally found someone to love and now we’re all being hunted by mech aliens,” she said.
“Bad timing, huh? But we’ve got each other. And it ain’t over yet.” A few barefooted kids ran past, the sound of their voices echoing through the hallway. “Not while I still draw breath.”
“You getting cocky?” said Katy, grinning. It was the same Katy he knew when they still had a home, back when they were pretending to be pirates.
“Yeah, I’m going to kill all of them.”
She hugged him tighter and he took a deep breath and for a second he was back at Bertha’s with the wind blowing through the trees and he could smell the grass and feel the heat, the sky above so bright he could see orange even though his eyes were closed. They were all in shock. Duval was gone but a large part of everyone there still couldn’t believe it. Soon, when the reality slowly sunk in, they would cry and mourn their loss. Katy, too. And Jolo would be there for her.
……
Everyone gathered in the big meeting room on level four of the Persephony. Filcher, dark under his eyes and the top button of his sleek Fed Fleet Admiral’s uniform undone, stood on a dais at the head of the round wooden table, a big vid screen behind him. Jolo, Katy, Marco, Merthon, Barthelme and even George were seated with the other Federation officers, a glass of water on a paper napkin for each person.
The Feds were all clean-shaven, spit-shined buttons, sharp creases and stinking like Fed issue dry-soap. Jolo’s crew were a pack of dirty, bandaged, wounded riff-raff from a nothing planet. Jolo could feel the stares, and Katy, Duval dust still covering her boots, still under her sweaty collar, started to fidget. But Jolo couldn’t hold anything against the Feds. They came. Late. But they came.
Marco nudged Jolo, holding up the glass of water with a smirk on his face. Fed extravagance. But Jolo was wondering why Filcher had come for them--Filcher, the man determined to lead his people to safety, to turn and run and bow down to the BG and take what they were going to give.
Filcher stood, both hands on the lectern like an old man clinging to a walker, and cleared his throat to speak.
