The Rebels maintained an impossible maze of ancient tunnels far beneath the ruins of Chicago. Alternate subterranean enclaves spanned the globe, linked by a haphazard and embattled series of passages, some hundreds of miles long. Each, though nominally subservient to the leadership under Chicago, operated as virtual fiefdoms. A consequence of concerted Corporation attacks that often isolated and besieged enclaves. That semi-autonomy left them vulnerable, but enabled each to survive, if necessary, independent of the others. Indeed, often stark differences in culture, economy and even relations with the Corporation were unique to each, some with histories spanning centuries. It was that history that enthralled and inspired Katy.
The walls narrowed. The passage was dark as a dungeon, lit only by the pale light of Kinetic halos around each body. The Kinetic lamps created a field around each body, drawing energy from the ambient life force of a body. The light illuminated walls filled with inscriptions and pictures generations old, like ancient hieroglyphs. She paused to run her fingers across one in particular. It was a declaration from a pair of young lovers. Their names were unreadable any longer, but the crudely scratched heart was still plainly visible. A rebel fighter laid a hand gently on her shoulder. The vengeful thunder of Corporation ships shook the ground.
“Miss Katy, we really should keep moving,” said the young warrior.
Soon the passage opened and widened greatly, the arched ceiling much higher and lost to the darkness, which was far more complete than before, even with the Kinetic light. It took Kate's eyes some time to adjust, revealing a terrible scene before her. The passage was crowded with wounded, terrified women and children, and others fleeing the government bombardment. Further on the passages were dominated by rag-a-muffin rebel fighters, and then the black-suited bodyguard of Thomas, the Rebel leader.
Thomas' elite guard were a fanatical lot, and not at all known to be summoned to that mysterious inner circle hardly felt like a blessing. It felt like being drawn into something darker, the immoral heart protecting the purity the rebel alliance pretended for itself. It was treachery and deceit and the brutal passion-plays nd shadowy compromises of politics. It made her skin crawl.
There were odd rumors about these men. Kate had heard those rumors in places like Cynus Prime. They were tales no one on Earth would dare speak of out loud. There were strange tales of women disappearing in alarming numbers, of bizarre rituals, and even that Thomas and his inner circle were in fact aliens spearheading a coming invasion. To some it was easily dismissed as concubines, drawn into the darkness and power of Thomas’ inner circle, where it was far too dangerous to let them mingle among the common folk.
Stripped of her weapons Katy was led beyond the point where few had ever gone. A metal door groaned opened to a huge chamber filled with weapons and all manner of provisions. Rusting iron beams stained the crumbling concrete ceiling. The air was thick with the ammonia bite of bat guano faintly covering the stink of death. Things scurried about at the edge of the darkness, and Kate had feeling that something large and altogether not human watched from the deepest blackest recesses of the chamber. She imagined some odd hybrid sort, like some sort mingled with the DNA of a bison or a yak or some such thing.
It was odd to see a huge crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling, and to hear a Rachmaninov piano concerto playing somewhere, as though it was a quality to the air. At the center of the chamber was a maze of sheer-white linen panels that sort of enclosed Thomas’ quarters. The panels rippled and swam in a channel of cool filtered air tht made Kate shiver and, instead of offering a respite from the scent of death, made the place feel like a morgue.
Thomas lived here like a monarch, while his army and hostage population wallowed in deprivation and misery. It wasn’t always like that. There had been a governing council for the rebel alliance, which had worked well enough for several generations. Corruption and bickering eventually eroded their effectiveness. Soon the council was merely competing factions, more interested in fighting one another than battling the Corporation. A series of bloody coups had merely replaced one corrupt minister with another, each testing the previous regimes brutality. The fighting nearly collapsed the rebellion. Now only Thomas remained, the most brutal and insidious of them all. For better or worse the rebellion united under Thomas, for the first time in years.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Angry Jasper:Twenty-four
“Oh, I missed you,” she panted, riding him hard, sounding like some wretched beast in heat. The fighting seemed a thousand miles away as Kate’s pleasure built to a powerful crescendo.
“All of me,” he strained, pushing his hips up to meet her. He held her hips tight, absorbing the ecstatic look on her face, and swelling with hungry pride. He could feel her getting close, and felt his own climax rushing towards that unstoppable abyss. “All of me, or just certain parts?”
“Some parts more than others.”
“Like?”
“Shut up, Jazz, I’m almost there.”
“What parts don’t you like?” He was straining too, his own climax building quickly to meet hers. “Tell me.”
“I could do without the mouth right now, for one,” she said with a moan.
Instead of finishing at that moment Jazz turned her over and they coupled again. He held her tighter, slapping hard against that beautiful tail. Kate cried out with pleasure and realized why she’d first fallen in love with him from their very first interlude.
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, kissing him wildly over her shoulder.
“Like that?”
“We haven’t done this since that wild weekend on Triton. Oh, baby!”
“You like that, watch this.”
He just started to flip her over again for another go when a Corporation soldier stumbled through the door, catching Jazz and Kate in something that was best described as acrobatic and animalistic. Pissed at being interrupted on the verge of a fantastic orgasm she shot the bloke through the chest. With that she turned and pressed the muzzle to Jazz’s forehead. A moment later a squad of rebel soldiers appeared. Buzz, dented, limping and covered in dust was with them.
“Took you mooks long enough!” she snarled.
She climbed off him. Jazz groaned. He was close too. “Ain’t fair, betraying a man without pants, and especially one that’s right at the edge!”
“Get dressed, Jazz.” Kate slapped one of the rebels and pulled ion her clothes. “What are you staring at? I want this one alive. Anything happens to him and I’ll have your nuts as earrings!”
Jazz dressed quickly before being bound again. The battle was waning when the rebels lead him out of the building. The street was littered with dead and the wreckage of war. The Corporation ship Kate had come in on was a smoldering hulk. In the distance a second Corporation ship had crashed. Plumes of thick black smoke billowed from the wreckage.
Smoke and dust hung thick in the air. Enough that the rebels, with Jazz and Kate, slipped unnoticed into the secret passages that led to the rebel stronghold beneath the city. A number of surviving Corporation soldiers from the ship followed at gunpoint. Holding a weapon on the prisoners was Maury’s spy who, amid the chaos of battle, had slipped in among the rebel ranks unnoticed.
“All of me,” he strained, pushing his hips up to meet her. He held her hips tight, absorbing the ecstatic look on her face, and swelling with hungry pride. He could feel her getting close, and felt his own climax rushing towards that unstoppable abyss. “All of me, or just certain parts?”
“Some parts more than others.”
“Like?”
“Shut up, Jazz, I’m almost there.”
“What parts don’t you like?” He was straining too, his own climax building quickly to meet hers. “Tell me.”
“I could do without the mouth right now, for one,” she said with a moan.
Instead of finishing at that moment Jazz turned her over and they coupled again. He held her tighter, slapping hard against that beautiful tail. Kate cried out with pleasure and realized why she’d first fallen in love with him from their very first interlude.
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, kissing him wildly over her shoulder.
“Like that?”
“We haven’t done this since that wild weekend on Triton. Oh, baby!”
“You like that, watch this.”
He just started to flip her over again for another go when a Corporation soldier stumbled through the door, catching Jazz and Kate in something that was best described as acrobatic and animalistic. Pissed at being interrupted on the verge of a fantastic orgasm she shot the bloke through the chest. With that she turned and pressed the muzzle to Jazz’s forehead. A moment later a squad of rebel soldiers appeared. Buzz, dented, limping and covered in dust was with them.
“Took you mooks long enough!” she snarled.
She climbed off him. Jazz groaned. He was close too. “Ain’t fair, betraying a man without pants, and especially one that’s right at the edge!”
“Get dressed, Jazz.” Kate slapped one of the rebels and pulled ion her clothes. “What are you staring at? I want this one alive. Anything happens to him and I’ll have your nuts as earrings!”
Jazz dressed quickly before being bound again. The battle was waning when the rebels lead him out of the building. The street was littered with dead and the wreckage of war. The Corporation ship Kate had come in on was a smoldering hulk. In the distance a second Corporation ship had crashed. Plumes of thick black smoke billowed from the wreckage.
Smoke and dust hung thick in the air. Enough that the rebels, with Jazz and Kate, slipped unnoticed into the secret passages that led to the rebel stronghold beneath the city. A number of surviving Corporation soldiers from the ship followed at gunpoint. Holding a weapon on the prisoners was Maury’s spy who, amid the chaos of battle, had slipped in among the rebel ranks unnoticed.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Angry Jasper: Twenty-three
As rounds chewed apart the walls earth around them Jazz pulled Kate down a side street. He kicked open an old wooden door as the battle cruiser blasted the street with its heavy cannons in stinging showers of earth and rock. Jazz shoved Kate through the door and followed as the cruiser hammered the building. The force of the blasts flung them against the far wall and splintered the door. Jazz landed up on top of her, which, given the circumstances, wasn’t a bad place to be.
“Care to explain all that?” he asked.
“All what?” she asked.
“Don’t play dumb.”
“At least for me it’s just playing,” she shot back. “Figure it out.”
“Trying,” he said. “I don’t like what I keep coming up with, though.”
A huge explosion rocked the street. Dust and bits of stone showered the pair. Kate hugged him closer. She somehow felt safer in his arms.
“I’d say we’ve got bigger problems than your dumb questions, Jazz.”
“Dumb?” He pushed the door back into place as best he could, then braced it with a couple of boulders. It wasn’t much, but at least they were out of the worst of the fighting for a time.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“I come to find some puke kid.”
“The money must be good.”
“Better than good. Maybe I can retire from bounty hunting.”
“I know you’d give your left nut to quit.”
“Once upon a time I had two, till you crushed ‘em.”
“Jazz, you have to admit we were no good for each other.”
“We were great together!” he protested.
“In the sack.”
“Right.”
“That ain’t enough.”
“What more do we need?”
“Sometimes, Jazz, you’re dumber than a rock.”
“And sometimes I’d like to smack the crap out of you.”
“Only if you want your ass kicked right back.”
Though he often threatened they’d only come to blows once before, except for that first night together. That other time Kate had pushed him just a bit too far and he'd slapped her hard enough to draw blood. She climbed back to her feet with a look that sent chills through Jazz. In a fit of what could only be described as animal rage, she damn near killed him. Not that he wasn’t bigger and stronger, but when Katy got into a fight she was a hell of a lot scarier.
“Don’t temp me, space tramp!”
“I’d love it, Peter Pan.”
They glared at one another until it came to a head, the way it always did.
“Your boobs looked awesome when I first saw you today.”
Outside the battle grew to a crescendo. More rebels poured into the fray. The drone of Corporation ships and explosions was deafening. Suddenly two rebel soldiers burst through the door. Katy shoved Jazz away and dispatched them with two well-aimed shots. Pushing what remained of the door closed again she turned to find that familiar look in his eyes.
“Don’t tell me you’re horny?”
“Want to?” he grinned like a dumb kid. An explosion leveled the building next door. In the street the battle had degraded into a bloody hand-to-hand scrap. The screams of dying men punctuated the clatter of gunfire and ARP rounds chewing up the rubble-strewn lane. Katy shook her head.
“Sure.”
“Really?” he asked, somewhat surprised.
“Just a quickie,” she replied. “I don’t want to die in the middle of an orgasm!”
“Can’t think of a better time to go,” he remarked, tugging off a boot.
She shimmied from her outfit. Jazz was quickly naked, sporting his right and ready manhood. He swaggered a bit and swung his hips at her a little, shaking his thing. She smiled and bit her lip demurely. Scratch that, she bit her lip hungrily, feeling as though she could devour him with her lust. He had changed quite a bit over the years. He had put on a pound or two(or twenty). There were more scars, and the hair grayed at his temples, but despite all that he still looked damn good to her.
Jazz took in her natural beauty for a moment, as though she was a juicy hunk of beef or a sticky hunk of pie to a starving man. How he would attack her, cover himself in her sweet juices, bury himself among her huge balloons and those milky-white thighs. He could already taste her, and licked his lips in anticipation. He’d hold those hips and drive his ship into her docking bay until they were both spent and quivering. He longed to be held by sturdy legs that could just about break a man’s hips in the throes of climax. If there was a hierarchy in the annals of sex then Kate was an admiral. Jazz rose to a full salute without using his hands! Aye, aye, admiral!
She didn’t mount him right away. Instead she teased a moment making him shudder and moan with anticipation. They found each other quite naturally, giving a mutual groan as she settled fully upon him. Funny how, when after months or years apart, that they always came together so perfectly. His hands went to her aching breasts, and they found that usual rhythm again. Kate groaned, pressing herself hard against him. She was in ecstasy and in awe. It just didn’t seem natural for a man to be this excited, but who was she to complain?
“Is that all you?” she gasped in amazement.
“Don’t know who you been doin’” he held those beautiful breasts, kneading their softness and heat. They were at a fever pace now.
“God, I missed you, Jazz.”
“Reckon you can tell how much I missed you, Kate.”
“Getting’ a hint,” she growled lustily.
Kate was just getting into the act, her sultry and unrestrained moans drowned in the sounds of street battle. But as the battle drew closer Jazz got distracted, just as she was getting close. Before long it was more than she could do alone.
“You could work a little too,” she complained.
“What?” He was losing his excitement. Kate frowned with disappointment.
“This could be our last time…”
He pursed his lips and cut her off quickly. “When were you gonna tell me you were with the rebellion?”
“And have you get hammered in some Martian bar and blab it all over the place? Now could you concentrate on the task at hand?”
To hell with it, he thought. He wasn’t about to let something as trivial as the rebellion, or something that sounded like Armageddon outside ruin a great piece of ass. He recovered and returned to her just as strong as ever. Katy couldn’t have been happier and responded in kind, whooping and hollering with pleasure...
“Care to explain all that?” he asked.
“All what?” she asked.
“Don’t play dumb.”
“At least for me it’s just playing,” she shot back. “Figure it out.”
“Trying,” he said. “I don’t like what I keep coming up with, though.”
A huge explosion rocked the street. Dust and bits of stone showered the pair. Kate hugged him closer. She somehow felt safer in his arms.
“I’d say we’ve got bigger problems than your dumb questions, Jazz.”
“Dumb?” He pushed the door back into place as best he could, then braced it with a couple of boulders. It wasn’t much, but at least they were out of the worst of the fighting for a time.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“I come to find some puke kid.”
“The money must be good.”
“Better than good. Maybe I can retire from bounty hunting.”
“I know you’d give your left nut to quit.”
“Once upon a time I had two, till you crushed ‘em.”
“Jazz, you have to admit we were no good for each other.”
“We were great together!” he protested.
“In the sack.”
“Right.”
“That ain’t enough.”
“What more do we need?”
“Sometimes, Jazz, you’re dumber than a rock.”
“And sometimes I’d like to smack the crap out of you.”
“Only if you want your ass kicked right back.”
Though he often threatened they’d only come to blows once before, except for that first night together. That other time Kate had pushed him just a bit too far and he'd slapped her hard enough to draw blood. She climbed back to her feet with a look that sent chills through Jazz. In a fit of what could only be described as animal rage, she damn near killed him. Not that he wasn’t bigger and stronger, but when Katy got into a fight she was a hell of a lot scarier.
“Don’t temp me, space tramp!”
“I’d love it, Peter Pan.”
They glared at one another until it came to a head, the way it always did.
“Your boobs looked awesome when I first saw you today.”
Outside the battle grew to a crescendo. More rebels poured into the fray. The drone of Corporation ships and explosions was deafening. Suddenly two rebel soldiers burst through the door. Katy shoved Jazz away and dispatched them with two well-aimed shots. Pushing what remained of the door closed again she turned to find that familiar look in his eyes.
“Don’t tell me you’re horny?”
“Want to?” he grinned like a dumb kid. An explosion leveled the building next door. In the street the battle had degraded into a bloody hand-to-hand scrap. The screams of dying men punctuated the clatter of gunfire and ARP rounds chewing up the rubble-strewn lane. Katy shook her head.
“Sure.”
“Really?” he asked, somewhat surprised.
“Just a quickie,” she replied. “I don’t want to die in the middle of an orgasm!”
“Can’t think of a better time to go,” he remarked, tugging off a boot.
She shimmied from her outfit. Jazz was quickly naked, sporting his right and ready manhood. He swaggered a bit and swung his hips at her a little, shaking his thing. She smiled and bit her lip demurely. Scratch that, she bit her lip hungrily, feeling as though she could devour him with her lust. He had changed quite a bit over the years. He had put on a pound or two(or twenty). There were more scars, and the hair grayed at his temples, but despite all that he still looked damn good to her.
Jazz took in her natural beauty for a moment, as though she was a juicy hunk of beef or a sticky hunk of pie to a starving man. How he would attack her, cover himself in her sweet juices, bury himself among her huge balloons and those milky-white thighs. He could already taste her, and licked his lips in anticipation. He’d hold those hips and drive his ship into her docking bay until they were both spent and quivering. He longed to be held by sturdy legs that could just about break a man’s hips in the throes of climax. If there was a hierarchy in the annals of sex then Kate was an admiral. Jazz rose to a full salute without using his hands! Aye, aye, admiral!
She didn’t mount him right away. Instead she teased a moment making him shudder and moan with anticipation. They found each other quite naturally, giving a mutual groan as she settled fully upon him. Funny how, when after months or years apart, that they always came together so perfectly. His hands went to her aching breasts, and they found that usual rhythm again. Kate groaned, pressing herself hard against him. She was in ecstasy and in awe. It just didn’t seem natural for a man to be this excited, but who was she to complain?
“Is that all you?” she gasped in amazement.
“Don’t know who you been doin’” he held those beautiful breasts, kneading their softness and heat. They were at a fever pace now.
“God, I missed you, Jazz.”
“Reckon you can tell how much I missed you, Kate.”
“Getting’ a hint,” she growled lustily.
Kate was just getting into the act, her sultry and unrestrained moans drowned in the sounds of street battle. But as the battle drew closer Jazz got distracted, just as she was getting close. Before long it was more than she could do alone.
“You could work a little too,” she complained.
“What?” He was losing his excitement. Kate frowned with disappointment.
“This could be our last time…”
He pursed his lips and cut her off quickly. “When were you gonna tell me you were with the rebellion?”
“And have you get hammered in some Martian bar and blab it all over the place? Now could you concentrate on the task at hand?”
To hell with it, he thought. He wasn’t about to let something as trivial as the rebellion, or something that sounded like Armageddon outside ruin a great piece of ass. He recovered and returned to her just as strong as ever. Katy couldn’t have been happier and responded in kind, whooping and hollering with pleasure...
Angry Jasper: Twenty-two
Two commandos scrambled down the ramp, their weighted footfalls shaking the ship. They quickly took up positions behind broken mounds of charred asphalt and brick. The rest remained inside, hidden from view. Kate felt impotent to prevent what she was certain was some treachery. The Commander must have noticed something behind her darting gaze.
“Not a sound out of you,” he growled. “Got me?”
She looked him up and down, in a diminishing way only a woman can do, and smirked. “Take a better man than you to get any sound out of me.”
What she could see of the man’s face burned bright red with a mix of humiliation and rage. He sort of raised his rifle, reaffirming his grip on the phallus like object in an obviously threatening manner. Kate scoffed.
“If only, honey,” she remarked, suggestively. “A boy can dream though.”
“Move along,” The commander shook as though he might explode.
With a wave from the commander each hostage inched nervously down the ramp one at a time. Kate stepped onto the ramp and paused a moment. The setting sun was warm on her face and hands. A purple layer of dust at the horizon rose to meet that fattening golden disk. Closing her eyes, Kate turned her face to it. There was no telling when or if she would enjoy that simple blessing again. Instead a familiar voice yanked her right out of that moment of serenity.
“Sorry to intrude upon your moment,” Buzz shot, his mechanical mouth turned downward in a frown.
He was beside her. His mechanical pupils dilated grudgingly in the light. They gave an annoying whir that reverberated hollowly in his head. He’d have to scrounge up a new pair of eyes somewhere, though he had no clue where he would find any on this god forsaken rock. He hoped they wouldn’t give out before then. Buzz could navigate by radar well enough, but it was a real pain in his alloy ass.
“If I wasn’t tied up,” Jasper shouted from the ruins struggling against his binds, “I’d open a barrel of whup-ass on all of you!”
Kate looked up just as Jazz was shoved into the street. He tripped and very nearly went down. When he came up his eyes met Kate’s. Perplexed Kate shook her head. She might have guessed that with something this screwed up, Jazz would find himself in the middle of it all. Even still, a part of her was glad to see him.
They were in it deep now, she thought. Deep enough they might just die on that rubble strewn, rat picked over street. They were in it so deep that dying would have been the easy part. But neither of them had much intention of dying, least of all on that dusty planet, and certainly not without a fight.
This wasn’t an exchange, but a ruse of some kind. She had little doubt the Corporate guys were going to kill them all anyway. That thought seemed confirmed as the odd prisoner stepped from the ship behind her with a satisfied sort of expression. He slid past her and quickly crossed the open ground where several rebel fighters hurried him to cover.
Kate’s eyes swept the steadily darkening street. They found Jazz’ again, and could just about read his thoughts. They were saying the same thing as hers-although his thoughts, as usual, were in cartoons. They nodded knowingly to one another. If they were gonna die on this street, a fair number of these other mooks were going down too!
Buzz did a double take as he noticed Kate’s expression change to deadly resolve. He gave a mechanical groan. “You’re gonna do something stupid aren’t you.”
“Just get yourself clear,” she whispered. She looked around without drawing attention, getting a fix on exactly where everyone was. There was just one way to even the odds against the Corporation Commandoes, and that was surprise and confusion. There would no room for error. Buzz shook his head, imaging his wires and digital guts strewn across the avenue.
“Just don’t screw this up,” he remarked.
“Zero defects, pal.”
Kate sort of nodded, first one way and them the other, leading Jazz with her eyes. It took him a terribly long moment to catch on, the block-headed mope. Through the open hatch of the Corporation ship Jazz spied two Corporate troopers moving into firing positions. He looked again to Kate and knew what he needed to do. Why wait for the inevitable, he thought. Comes a time when a man has to take the initiative. He blew a kiss Kate. At that instant the Corporation guys were up and pouring through the breach.
Kate kicked backwards instantly, skewering one of the guys in the nuts with the spiked heel of her boot. With a stunning roundhouse kick she dropped another off the ramp to the ground. She somersaulted off the ramp and rolled behind a pile of debris, snapping the neck of a third commando.
Gunfire erupted from every direction. Suddenly the air was filled with Mercury rounds. A Corporation battle cruiser dipped low overhead, blasting rebel positions with huge explosive rounds. Jasper, caught in the open, knocked one of his guards off his feet, while the others were cut down in the shooting. He dodged a volley from Kate’s side. Behind the soldiers a man dressed in rebel clothing slipped from the ship and disappeared in the confusion. Jazz had seen him, but was helpless. His hands were still bound as rounds exploded around him.
Buzz was caught in the open on the ramp with nowhere to go. He turned and lumbered over the edge on those stubby little legs landing like an old oil can as he hit the ground with an awful bang. A rebel round banged through the back of his thigh, but missed anything vital. Buzz gave a yelp and prayed for a quick and painless end.
Jasper heard a cry behind him and turned to find a man rushing forward with an upraised samurai sword. Jasper threw up his bound hands in a vain blocking motion, turning his head and closing his eyes in anticipation of having his skull cleaved in two. Instead, the blade neatly sliced through the binds. Jazz opened his eyes one at time, not quite believing he was still alive. He looked up at the would be assailant who was just as surprised.
Jazz reacted first and swung sideways. He brought his elbow into the man’s throat and caught the sword in the air. In a move that a trained dancer would have envied, he brought the blade down lopping off the hand of another rebel just as the man raised a weapon.
Rounds were coming in fast and furious from the Governor’s ship now. They cut down a hostage next to Jazz as he bolted over open ground for cover. Jazz swore and raced through a hail of Mercury rounds to where Kate crouched between two low walls, the remnants of an old gangway. She had picked up a weapon off of one of the dead Corporation guys, but it wasn’t of much use at the moment, except to provoke more fire. She could muster only the occasional un-aimed shot, each time bringing punishing return fire. It had taken a glancing round to the muzzle and was all but useless. They were taking fire from both sides now. It chewed at cover that wouldn’t last much longer at this rate.
“We gotta get out of here!” Jazz cried above the din.
Kate ducked an especially furious volley. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Not a sound out of you,” he growled. “Got me?”
She looked him up and down, in a diminishing way only a woman can do, and smirked. “Take a better man than you to get any sound out of me.”
What she could see of the man’s face burned bright red with a mix of humiliation and rage. He sort of raised his rifle, reaffirming his grip on the phallus like object in an obviously threatening manner. Kate scoffed.
“If only, honey,” she remarked, suggestively. “A boy can dream though.”
“Move along,” The commander shook as though he might explode.
With a wave from the commander each hostage inched nervously down the ramp one at a time. Kate stepped onto the ramp and paused a moment. The setting sun was warm on her face and hands. A purple layer of dust at the horizon rose to meet that fattening golden disk. Closing her eyes, Kate turned her face to it. There was no telling when or if she would enjoy that simple blessing again. Instead a familiar voice yanked her right out of that moment of serenity.
“Sorry to intrude upon your moment,” Buzz shot, his mechanical mouth turned downward in a frown.
He was beside her. His mechanical pupils dilated grudgingly in the light. They gave an annoying whir that reverberated hollowly in his head. He’d have to scrounge up a new pair of eyes somewhere, though he had no clue where he would find any on this god forsaken rock. He hoped they wouldn’t give out before then. Buzz could navigate by radar well enough, but it was a real pain in his alloy ass.
“If I wasn’t tied up,” Jasper shouted from the ruins struggling against his binds, “I’d open a barrel of whup-ass on all of you!”
Kate looked up just as Jazz was shoved into the street. He tripped and very nearly went down. When he came up his eyes met Kate’s. Perplexed Kate shook her head. She might have guessed that with something this screwed up, Jazz would find himself in the middle of it all. Even still, a part of her was glad to see him.
They were in it deep now, she thought. Deep enough they might just die on that rubble strewn, rat picked over street. They were in it so deep that dying would have been the easy part. But neither of them had much intention of dying, least of all on that dusty planet, and certainly not without a fight.
This wasn’t an exchange, but a ruse of some kind. She had little doubt the Corporate guys were going to kill them all anyway. That thought seemed confirmed as the odd prisoner stepped from the ship behind her with a satisfied sort of expression. He slid past her and quickly crossed the open ground where several rebel fighters hurried him to cover.
Kate’s eyes swept the steadily darkening street. They found Jazz’ again, and could just about read his thoughts. They were saying the same thing as hers-although his thoughts, as usual, were in cartoons. They nodded knowingly to one another. If they were gonna die on this street, a fair number of these other mooks were going down too!
Buzz did a double take as he noticed Kate’s expression change to deadly resolve. He gave a mechanical groan. “You’re gonna do something stupid aren’t you.”
“Just get yourself clear,” she whispered. She looked around without drawing attention, getting a fix on exactly where everyone was. There was just one way to even the odds against the Corporation Commandoes, and that was surprise and confusion. There would no room for error. Buzz shook his head, imaging his wires and digital guts strewn across the avenue.
“Just don’t screw this up,” he remarked.
“Zero defects, pal.”
Kate sort of nodded, first one way and them the other, leading Jazz with her eyes. It took him a terribly long moment to catch on, the block-headed mope. Through the open hatch of the Corporation ship Jazz spied two Corporate troopers moving into firing positions. He looked again to Kate and knew what he needed to do. Why wait for the inevitable, he thought. Comes a time when a man has to take the initiative. He blew a kiss Kate. At that instant the Corporation guys were up and pouring through the breach.
Kate kicked backwards instantly, skewering one of the guys in the nuts with the spiked heel of her boot. With a stunning roundhouse kick she dropped another off the ramp to the ground. She somersaulted off the ramp and rolled behind a pile of debris, snapping the neck of a third commando.
Gunfire erupted from every direction. Suddenly the air was filled with Mercury rounds. A Corporation battle cruiser dipped low overhead, blasting rebel positions with huge explosive rounds. Jasper, caught in the open, knocked one of his guards off his feet, while the others were cut down in the shooting. He dodged a volley from Kate’s side. Behind the soldiers a man dressed in rebel clothing slipped from the ship and disappeared in the confusion. Jazz had seen him, but was helpless. His hands were still bound as rounds exploded around him.
Buzz was caught in the open on the ramp with nowhere to go. He turned and lumbered over the edge on those stubby little legs landing like an old oil can as he hit the ground with an awful bang. A rebel round banged through the back of his thigh, but missed anything vital. Buzz gave a yelp and prayed for a quick and painless end.
Jasper heard a cry behind him and turned to find a man rushing forward with an upraised samurai sword. Jasper threw up his bound hands in a vain blocking motion, turning his head and closing his eyes in anticipation of having his skull cleaved in two. Instead, the blade neatly sliced through the binds. Jazz opened his eyes one at time, not quite believing he was still alive. He looked up at the would be assailant who was just as surprised.
Jazz reacted first and swung sideways. He brought his elbow into the man’s throat and caught the sword in the air. In a move that a trained dancer would have envied, he brought the blade down lopping off the hand of another rebel just as the man raised a weapon.
Rounds were coming in fast and furious from the Governor’s ship now. They cut down a hostage next to Jazz as he bolted over open ground for cover. Jazz swore and raced through a hail of Mercury rounds to where Kate crouched between two low walls, the remnants of an old gangway. She had picked up a weapon off of one of the dead Corporation guys, but it wasn’t of much use at the moment, except to provoke more fire. She could muster only the occasional un-aimed shot, each time bringing punishing return fire. It had taken a glancing round to the muzzle and was all but useless. They were taking fire from both sides now. It chewed at cover that wouldn’t last much longer at this rate.
“We gotta get out of here!” Jazz cried above the din.
Kate ducked an especially furious volley. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Monday, April 26, 2010
Angry Jasper-Twenty-one
There was something about the prisoner exchange that didn’t sit well with Kate. Maury and the Corporation were only too eager to conclude a deal with the rebels, something they had never done before. The Corporation, and Maury in particular, held a long unwavering policing about never bargaining with rebels and pirates. It seemed unlikely that they would go to such lengths for one man, his kid and a hand full of expendable troops. The Corporation had lost hundreds of ships on the planet and never so much as batted an eye over survivors and hostages. Kate felt sure it had something to do with the weapon. No doubt Maury was having her tracked, but how, and why now?
Not that the rebel position was any better. There didn’t seem a whole lot of sense in risking giving away the headquarters to the Corporation. What were Thomas and the rebel leadership up to? Were they making diplomatic overtures? Was this a momentary lapse of reason in favor of mercy, or some sort of new but fatally misguided moral position of the new rebel leadership? If it was Kate didn't like it at all. Not because she didn't believe that the rebel cause wasn't a moral one, but that morality felt like a vice against the inhumanity of the enemy, an enemy Kate knew only too well.
As the ship came in low over the city Kate tensed a little. She half hoped rebel gunners would blast them out of the sky. That would have made things a great deal easier. Kate would have gladly given her life. She had given so much for the rebellion that her life seemed almost inconsequential as it was. It was only that son-of-a-bitch Jazz that gave her life any greater purpose, and she hated him for it.
She wasn’t alone. Besides Buzz there were dozen or so other prisoners. Most of them, Kate figured, were rebel saboteurs or spies like her, though she didn't recognize a single one. They ran the gamut. Most appeared disheveled, and likely had been rounded up at Cygnus Prime where rebel spies and sympathizers ran as thick as thieves. One bloke was dressed like a methane freighter crewman. Another wore a Corporation uniform, though it was stripped of insignia and patches. His face was a patchwork of welts and bruises, his bruised and blackened eyes nearly swollen shut. Yet another bore a painful wound where a Mercury round had singed a broad line across his chest. Like the rest of them, and like Kate, he was lucky to have survived this long.
The prisoners sat quietly, all of them sullen-faced, and just as anxious as Kate. She was looking directly at one of the prisoners. He was dressed rags and looked every bit as miserable as the others, at least on the surface. There was just something a little off about the guy. That morose expression seemed manufactured, and less than the genuine deep misery of the others. His complexion was soft and pale, and a bit too clean, at least in contrast to the others. Moreover, he dressed like the ragtag fighters on the planet. No one dressed like that on the Moon, or the wheel, freighters or even some rinky-dink frontier colony, and certainly not with that pasty sort of complexion. That, in and of itself was hardly enough to condemn the guy, but there was just something that didn't seem right to here. Damned if Kate could put her finger exactly on what it was.
There was a combat ready platoon of Corporation commandoes on board. They were heavily armed, and dressed in bulky suits and armor, as though they were about to do battle on an asteroid or Jovian moon than on Earth. Beneath bulky gray helmets, that extended nearly to their padded shoulders, and broad silver battle goggles little more than thin severe lips could be seen.
The uniforms and gear were state of the art. Not something the average Corporation soldier or security specialists were outfitted with. The armor and uniforms were gray and dark blue now, but before going into battle each would be activated to change color and pattern to adapt precisely to a particular battle field. The goggles provided an unobstructed view of the battlefield regardless of smoke or dust or lighting. Friendly and “unknowns” were shown in different colors. Through verbal commands or specific eye movements the soldier could zoom in to a specific target or region, or view the battlefield from above. From each man’s helmet a small moth sized probe could rise above a battle, follow an enemy through tunnels and mazes and send back real time intelligence.
Each man had a stunning amount of firepower, enough to match a Twentieth Century Marine Company. Their ARP-47 rifles could fire thousands of standard ball bearing sized Mercury rounds or hundreds varying in size from standard to fist sized. PROGS, or Programmed Grenades were actually capable of tracking and chasing down a specific target. Every soldier was a formidable force unto himself.
Truth of it was, these men and women seemed little too ready, Kate thought. Hell, they almost seemed eager for a fight. Maybe eager was too strong a word. Rather they seemed anxious to get the whole thing over with, and Kate doubted that meant a simple prisoner exchange. She spied the commandoes as they exchanged furtive glances, as though wanting to be sure they were all prepared for what was to come. She gently nudged Buzz, trying not to draw anyone’s attention. As it was most everyone was focused on the dangerous descent towards the planet.
“I don’t like this, Buzz,” she whispered.
“Jeez, I can’t imagine why,” he replied sarcastically. “When precisely did that start to occur to you, Kate?”
“No something’s up. Look at these guys. It’s like they’re itching for a fight.”
“You think?” he scoffed.
“I’m serious. And see this guy over here,” she motioned to the odd-looking prisoner. “Something about him.”
“You’ve been porked by half the damn solar system. Maybe you and he…?”
“I’m serious,” she said.
“So what do you want me to do about it?” he complained a little loud. “We’re in enough trouble, Kate. Don’t start something now.”
“I think Maury is tracking me.”
“I was with you the whole time since Cygnus Prime. I would know if they planted something in you or on you.”
“Are you sure, Buzz?”
“I figured he would have. Damned if he didn't.”
“Then what the hell is going on here, Buzz?’
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
She gave him an odd look, pursing her lips and scratching her head. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“You know what I’m trying to say.”
The engines roared as they brought the ship in for a landing. The sound reverberated through the ship deafeningly loud at the nose pitched upward better than twenty degrees from the horizontal. It touched down a little roughly throwing several of the soldiers hard to their knees. The engines changed in pitch as the ship settled, still running hard should a quick escape become a necessity. Kate and the other prisoners looked to the door as it opened with a whoosh revealing a ruined boulevard and darkening landscape painted in lavender hues. Cool evening air and the bitter scent of wood smoke rushed in.
“Everybody up!” snapped the Corporation commander. Everyone stood and looked at each other uneasily. The odd fellow smiled at Kate, making her skin crawl. “When the exchange begins you will all file slowly down the ramp to the street. There you will remain until I give the order. The exchange will be one for one. That is, when one hostage is safely aboard ship one of you will be allowed to go. If anyone moves without my authorization, or attempts to sabotage the exchange in any way I will kill you all.”
Not that the rebel position was any better. There didn’t seem a whole lot of sense in risking giving away the headquarters to the Corporation. What were Thomas and the rebel leadership up to? Were they making diplomatic overtures? Was this a momentary lapse of reason in favor of mercy, or some sort of new but fatally misguided moral position of the new rebel leadership? If it was Kate didn't like it at all. Not because she didn't believe that the rebel cause wasn't a moral one, but that morality felt like a vice against the inhumanity of the enemy, an enemy Kate knew only too well.
As the ship came in low over the city Kate tensed a little. She half hoped rebel gunners would blast them out of the sky. That would have made things a great deal easier. Kate would have gladly given her life. She had given so much for the rebellion that her life seemed almost inconsequential as it was. It was only that son-of-a-bitch Jazz that gave her life any greater purpose, and she hated him for it.
She wasn’t alone. Besides Buzz there were dozen or so other prisoners. Most of them, Kate figured, were rebel saboteurs or spies like her, though she didn't recognize a single one. They ran the gamut. Most appeared disheveled, and likely had been rounded up at Cygnus Prime where rebel spies and sympathizers ran as thick as thieves. One bloke was dressed like a methane freighter crewman. Another wore a Corporation uniform, though it was stripped of insignia and patches. His face was a patchwork of welts and bruises, his bruised and blackened eyes nearly swollen shut. Yet another bore a painful wound where a Mercury round had singed a broad line across his chest. Like the rest of them, and like Kate, he was lucky to have survived this long.
The prisoners sat quietly, all of them sullen-faced, and just as anxious as Kate. She was looking directly at one of the prisoners. He was dressed rags and looked every bit as miserable as the others, at least on the surface. There was just something a little off about the guy. That morose expression seemed manufactured, and less than the genuine deep misery of the others. His complexion was soft and pale, and a bit too clean, at least in contrast to the others. Moreover, he dressed like the ragtag fighters on the planet. No one dressed like that on the Moon, or the wheel, freighters or even some rinky-dink frontier colony, and certainly not with that pasty sort of complexion. That, in and of itself was hardly enough to condemn the guy, but there was just something that didn't seem right to here. Damned if Kate could put her finger exactly on what it was.
There was a combat ready platoon of Corporation commandoes on board. They were heavily armed, and dressed in bulky suits and armor, as though they were about to do battle on an asteroid or Jovian moon than on Earth. Beneath bulky gray helmets, that extended nearly to their padded shoulders, and broad silver battle goggles little more than thin severe lips could be seen.
The uniforms and gear were state of the art. Not something the average Corporation soldier or security specialists were outfitted with. The armor and uniforms were gray and dark blue now, but before going into battle each would be activated to change color and pattern to adapt precisely to a particular battle field. The goggles provided an unobstructed view of the battlefield regardless of smoke or dust or lighting. Friendly and “unknowns” were shown in different colors. Through verbal commands or specific eye movements the soldier could zoom in to a specific target or region, or view the battlefield from above. From each man’s helmet a small moth sized probe could rise above a battle, follow an enemy through tunnels and mazes and send back real time intelligence.
Each man had a stunning amount of firepower, enough to match a Twentieth Century Marine Company. Their ARP-47 rifles could fire thousands of standard ball bearing sized Mercury rounds or hundreds varying in size from standard to fist sized. PROGS, or Programmed Grenades were actually capable of tracking and chasing down a specific target. Every soldier was a formidable force unto himself.
Truth of it was, these men and women seemed little too ready, Kate thought. Hell, they almost seemed eager for a fight. Maybe eager was too strong a word. Rather they seemed anxious to get the whole thing over with, and Kate doubted that meant a simple prisoner exchange. She spied the commandoes as they exchanged furtive glances, as though wanting to be sure they were all prepared for what was to come. She gently nudged Buzz, trying not to draw anyone’s attention. As it was most everyone was focused on the dangerous descent towards the planet.
“I don’t like this, Buzz,” she whispered.
“Jeez, I can’t imagine why,” he replied sarcastically. “When precisely did that start to occur to you, Kate?”
“No something’s up. Look at these guys. It’s like they’re itching for a fight.”
“You think?” he scoffed.
“I’m serious. And see this guy over here,” she motioned to the odd-looking prisoner. “Something about him.”
“You’ve been porked by half the damn solar system. Maybe you and he…?”
“I’m serious,” she said.
“So what do you want me to do about it?” he complained a little loud. “We’re in enough trouble, Kate. Don’t start something now.”
“I think Maury is tracking me.”
“I was with you the whole time since Cygnus Prime. I would know if they planted something in you or on you.”
“Are you sure, Buzz?”
“I figured he would have. Damned if he didn't.”
“Then what the hell is going on here, Buzz?’
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
She gave him an odd look, pursing her lips and scratching her head. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“You know what I’m trying to say.”
The engines roared as they brought the ship in for a landing. The sound reverberated through the ship deafeningly loud at the nose pitched upward better than twenty degrees from the horizontal. It touched down a little roughly throwing several of the soldiers hard to their knees. The engines changed in pitch as the ship settled, still running hard should a quick escape become a necessity. Kate and the other prisoners looked to the door as it opened with a whoosh revealing a ruined boulevard and darkening landscape painted in lavender hues. Cool evening air and the bitter scent of wood smoke rushed in.
“Everybody up!” snapped the Corporation commander. Everyone stood and looked at each other uneasily. The odd fellow smiled at Kate, making her skin crawl. “When the exchange begins you will all file slowly down the ramp to the street. There you will remain until I give the order. The exchange will be one for one. That is, when one hostage is safely aboard ship one of you will be allowed to go. If anyone moves without my authorization, or attempts to sabotage the exchange in any way I will kill you all.”
Angry Jasper-Twenty
Jazz came in high and fast over Chicago just as the sun was setting. After more than three centuries of war the city lay in ruins. Shadows pooled deep and dark among overlapping foundations and massive craters, concealing untold dangers. Once majestic skyscrapers were now great heaps of twisted steel beams and concrete. They overlapped, erasing boulevards and wide avenues whose bustling traffic long ago ceased. The millions that called the city home were gone as well. Scattered groups of loners, refugees and survivors huddled among the ruins, not daring to venture into the open in the light of day for fear of being targeting by Corporation ships. Those ships arrived periodically to pummel the city, like a frustrated gardener flailing madly at an anthill. Corporation ships kept a judicious distance by necessity, playing a deadly cat and mouse game with rebel gunners hidden throughout the city. The reasons for keeping a prudent distance was the wreckage of dozens of Corporation ships crashed among the ruins.
For the time being the skies were empty of Corporation ships. Jazz wasn’t into pushing his luck. He overshot the city, coming about over what was once the sprwaling suburb of Skokie and dropped hard and fast into the dry gully of the Chicago River’s North branch. The basin was far too narrow for Corporation ships, and cruising at what any sane pilot would describe as a treacherous speed Jazz wasn’t terribly worried about Rebel guns. Still, he had little doubt he was being observed from the ruins clustered to either bank.
Kate intruded on his thoughts once more. He would have preferred to see her one last time before leaving the wheel. Wasn’t that he had any particular sense that things would turn out bad. It was just that he was getting to the age where regrets carried a whole lot more weight.
An alarm told him the weapons array was down again. He'd meant to get it fixrd before leaving the wheel, but there was just no time. Jazz figured there was a short somewhere in the system. The array screen switch off and on unpredictably. A tap of his finger failed to get it going again so Jazz banged the console with his foot until the dull green readings came to life. The array was up and active. Should anyone fire an ARP or laser his way the array would deflect or absorb the round. But as Jazz swung the ship back and forth through and beneath collapsed bridge spans there was one thing he wasn’t prepared for.
Rebel defenders were waiting for Jazz as he rounded the last big bend in the river bed. Another few seconds and he would have been out over the old Lake Michigan Basin. He had hoped to set down there among the dunes and ancient shipwrecks where he would not be seen so easily. But just as he ducked beneath the rusty wreckage of the old La Salle Street Bridge a huge net shot from the south bank. Jazz shouted with surprise. There was no time to react.
The net enveloped the ship and brought it to a bone-jarring stop. If not for the safety harnesses jazz would have been slammed forward into the instrument panel, and seriously injured or worse. As it was the sudden stop nearly knocked him unconscious. He was helpless as the engines stalled with a mournful wail. In their dying gasp the engines surged briefly pitching the bow skywards, incinerating a rebel fighter that had rushed into the riverbed a bit prematurely.
For that heart stopping moment before the engines quit altogether Jazz almost believed the ship would tear through the net, but it held fast, turning the ship over. At that Jazz was looking up at the ground as he tumbled towards it. Figuring he was about to be smashed like a bug Jazz said the only thing that seemed fitting at the moment.
“Should have taken Doc Redhorse's advice!”
Just as suddenly the ship flipped back and landed on its belly with a horrendous bang. Jazz was tossed and thrown violently in the seat, the air forced from his lungs as if two great hands had slapped together with Jazz in the middle. The bow of the ship buried itself deep in the riverbed. It bounced once and came to a stop at last in a cloud of dust and smoke.
The impact had literally thrown Jazz from his seat. He lay for a moment on the floor behind his seat amid all sorts of trash and gear spilled from storage bins and lockers. Only several pressure tight compartments held fast. Somewhere in all that mess was his ARP-21. Jazz felt around in the trash for it, mumbling to himself.
“If I can’t fly outta here, by golly, I’ll shoot my way…
He was still fumbling for the weapon when three rebel soldiers appeared above him. Their weapons were old model ARP-7 assault rifles. They were bulky and not half as powerful as his ARP-21, but for the fact that they had theirs already. Jazz swore, threw up his arms and conceded defeat.
Their dress reminded Jazz of ancient Saharan Bedouins. They were wrapped in rags that covered every part of their bodies. Dark goggles were pulled tight over their eyes. They were young men, he noticed by the gap in the shrouds covering their faces. The tattered state of their clothing only underscored the precarious nature of the rebellion. Jazz thought it was a lost cause. The planet had been stripped bare and was now all but lifeless. These poor folks were clinging to the memory of what once was. They clung to the belief that the planet could be restored, but those days were long gone. Mankind had turned to the planets, and would one day travel to the stars and beyond. The Earth would become a distant memory, and in time completely forgotten as its future generations struck out into the universe. Yeah, it was definitely a lost cause, Jazz thought, but then, at the moment, so was he.
He swore under his breath and opened the canopy with a dopey grin, as if to convince them this was all one huge misunderstanding. It opened suddenly, nearly flipping one of the rebels off the ship. Jazz shook his head and frowned at the dope. The other two hauled him up and out of the ship. They patted him down quickly, confiscating his credit pod and a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
“Hey!” he complained. “Can’t steal a guy’s smokes.”
“Shut up,” one of them said, turning him around a little roughly.
There was an odd moment when everyone just sort of stared at one another. He swore again, this time a curse for not walking away from Madame when he had the chance. All the credits in the solar system wasn’t worth getting killed.
“No reason we all need to get off on a bad foot,” he said, hoping it might buy him a little consideration. After all, he wasn’t their enemy. Truth be told, Jazz didn’t give a rat’s ass about the rebellion, or the Corporation for that matter.
“Who are you?’ said one of the young fighters.
“Name’s Jasper, Angry Jasper.”
“What’s the angry for?”
“Nothin’,” he replied. “I’m just naturally pissy. Hope you boys won’t take offense.”
“You’re a Corporation spy,” one of the others accused.
Jazz laughed. “Hardly.”
“No matter. You’re our prisoner now.”
“That’s a little harsh,” said Jazz. “What do you say we make a dea…”
Before Jazz could finish the sentence he took a rifle butt to the jaw. Could have been a lot worse. The guy had checked the shot a bit at the last second. Still, it was enough to drop Jazz to the deck. He was shaking it off when he was hauled up to his knees and his head pushed forward. The muzzle of a rebel ARP pressed to the back of his head. That was the first time he felt sure this wouldn’t turn out good. He was made to clasp his hands tightly behind his head. A cold shiver ran down his spine, half expecting to be executed as a spy right there and then. Instead a hood was slipped over his head. With that he was led away
Jazz had the impression of being led through long passage ways, of scrambling across mounds of broken debris and through the blasted remains of structures. They would pause at open places and wide boulevards. All the while Jazz was aware of the warm sun on his face, giving him the vaguest impression which direction they were headed.
After perhaps a half hour or so they came to a place beneath the toppled exspance of an expressway. Jazz could smell wood smoke and meat being cooked. He heard voices from the shadows. Someone came up and poked him hard in the side with a stick, catching him just below his still mending ribs. Jazz cried out and toppled back onto the hard ground. Looking down through the hood he could make out an old woman swinging a stick wildly as one of the rebels tried holding her back. She spit at Jazz, landing a nasty one right on his crotch.
“Corporate pig!” she crowed. “I'll cut his throat and eat his heart!”
“Relax, grandma of the world!” jazz blacked a swipe of the stick with his boot. “Hard to believe you aren't taken.”
“Scum!”
“I ain't on nobody's side,” he said.
“Even worse!”
The rest of her rat-like clan came forward now, whipped up by her hysteria. It was all the rebels could do to retreat quickly, taking their chances in the open with the Corporation ships, chased by a hail of stocks and stones. They were half way across when a Corporation ship appeared overhead. Someone yanked the hood off Jazz' head to reveal a long straight avenue. Collapse roadways and crumbling entrance ramps curved away to desolation, seeming even more so in the waning light. From a small mound of debris a faded green rectangular sigh read:
EISENHOWER EXPRESSWAY
FULLERTON AVENUE
NEXT RIGHT
Beneath it another smaller neon orange sign read:
CONSTRUCTION AHEAD
REDUCE SPEED
For the time being the skies were empty of Corporation ships. Jazz wasn’t into pushing his luck. He overshot the city, coming about over what was once the sprwaling suburb of Skokie and dropped hard and fast into the dry gully of the Chicago River’s North branch. The basin was far too narrow for Corporation ships, and cruising at what any sane pilot would describe as a treacherous speed Jazz wasn’t terribly worried about Rebel guns. Still, he had little doubt he was being observed from the ruins clustered to either bank.
Kate intruded on his thoughts once more. He would have preferred to see her one last time before leaving the wheel. Wasn’t that he had any particular sense that things would turn out bad. It was just that he was getting to the age where regrets carried a whole lot more weight.
An alarm told him the weapons array was down again. He'd meant to get it fixrd before leaving the wheel, but there was just no time. Jazz figured there was a short somewhere in the system. The array screen switch off and on unpredictably. A tap of his finger failed to get it going again so Jazz banged the console with his foot until the dull green readings came to life. The array was up and active. Should anyone fire an ARP or laser his way the array would deflect or absorb the round. But as Jazz swung the ship back and forth through and beneath collapsed bridge spans there was one thing he wasn’t prepared for.
Rebel defenders were waiting for Jazz as he rounded the last big bend in the river bed. Another few seconds and he would have been out over the old Lake Michigan Basin. He had hoped to set down there among the dunes and ancient shipwrecks where he would not be seen so easily. But just as he ducked beneath the rusty wreckage of the old La Salle Street Bridge a huge net shot from the south bank. Jazz shouted with surprise. There was no time to react.
The net enveloped the ship and brought it to a bone-jarring stop. If not for the safety harnesses jazz would have been slammed forward into the instrument panel, and seriously injured or worse. As it was the sudden stop nearly knocked him unconscious. He was helpless as the engines stalled with a mournful wail. In their dying gasp the engines surged briefly pitching the bow skywards, incinerating a rebel fighter that had rushed into the riverbed a bit prematurely.
For that heart stopping moment before the engines quit altogether Jazz almost believed the ship would tear through the net, but it held fast, turning the ship over. At that Jazz was looking up at the ground as he tumbled towards it. Figuring he was about to be smashed like a bug Jazz said the only thing that seemed fitting at the moment.
“Should have taken Doc Redhorse's advice!”
Just as suddenly the ship flipped back and landed on its belly with a horrendous bang. Jazz was tossed and thrown violently in the seat, the air forced from his lungs as if two great hands had slapped together with Jazz in the middle. The bow of the ship buried itself deep in the riverbed. It bounced once and came to a stop at last in a cloud of dust and smoke.
The impact had literally thrown Jazz from his seat. He lay for a moment on the floor behind his seat amid all sorts of trash and gear spilled from storage bins and lockers. Only several pressure tight compartments held fast. Somewhere in all that mess was his ARP-21. Jazz felt around in the trash for it, mumbling to himself.
“If I can’t fly outta here, by golly, I’ll shoot my way…
He was still fumbling for the weapon when three rebel soldiers appeared above him. Their weapons were old model ARP-7 assault rifles. They were bulky and not half as powerful as his ARP-21, but for the fact that they had theirs already. Jazz swore, threw up his arms and conceded defeat.
Their dress reminded Jazz of ancient Saharan Bedouins. They were wrapped in rags that covered every part of their bodies. Dark goggles were pulled tight over their eyes. They were young men, he noticed by the gap in the shrouds covering their faces. The tattered state of their clothing only underscored the precarious nature of the rebellion. Jazz thought it was a lost cause. The planet had been stripped bare and was now all but lifeless. These poor folks were clinging to the memory of what once was. They clung to the belief that the planet could be restored, but those days were long gone. Mankind had turned to the planets, and would one day travel to the stars and beyond. The Earth would become a distant memory, and in time completely forgotten as its future generations struck out into the universe. Yeah, it was definitely a lost cause, Jazz thought, but then, at the moment, so was he.
He swore under his breath and opened the canopy with a dopey grin, as if to convince them this was all one huge misunderstanding. It opened suddenly, nearly flipping one of the rebels off the ship. Jazz shook his head and frowned at the dope. The other two hauled him up and out of the ship. They patted him down quickly, confiscating his credit pod and a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
“Hey!” he complained. “Can’t steal a guy’s smokes.”
“Shut up,” one of them said, turning him around a little roughly.
There was an odd moment when everyone just sort of stared at one another. He swore again, this time a curse for not walking away from Madame when he had the chance. All the credits in the solar system wasn’t worth getting killed.
“No reason we all need to get off on a bad foot,” he said, hoping it might buy him a little consideration. After all, he wasn’t their enemy. Truth be told, Jazz didn’t give a rat’s ass about the rebellion, or the Corporation for that matter.
“Who are you?’ said one of the young fighters.
“Name’s Jasper, Angry Jasper.”
“What’s the angry for?”
“Nothin’,” he replied. “I’m just naturally pissy. Hope you boys won’t take offense.”
“You’re a Corporation spy,” one of the others accused.
Jazz laughed. “Hardly.”
“No matter. You’re our prisoner now.”
“That’s a little harsh,” said Jazz. “What do you say we make a dea…”
Before Jazz could finish the sentence he took a rifle butt to the jaw. Could have been a lot worse. The guy had checked the shot a bit at the last second. Still, it was enough to drop Jazz to the deck. He was shaking it off when he was hauled up to his knees and his head pushed forward. The muzzle of a rebel ARP pressed to the back of his head. That was the first time he felt sure this wouldn’t turn out good. He was made to clasp his hands tightly behind his head. A cold shiver ran down his spine, half expecting to be executed as a spy right there and then. Instead a hood was slipped over his head. With that he was led away
Jazz had the impression of being led through long passage ways, of scrambling across mounds of broken debris and through the blasted remains of structures. They would pause at open places and wide boulevards. All the while Jazz was aware of the warm sun on his face, giving him the vaguest impression which direction they were headed.
After perhaps a half hour or so they came to a place beneath the toppled exspance of an expressway. Jazz could smell wood smoke and meat being cooked. He heard voices from the shadows. Someone came up and poked him hard in the side with a stick, catching him just below his still mending ribs. Jazz cried out and toppled back onto the hard ground. Looking down through the hood he could make out an old woman swinging a stick wildly as one of the rebels tried holding her back. She spit at Jazz, landing a nasty one right on his crotch.
“Corporate pig!” she crowed. “I'll cut his throat and eat his heart!”
“Relax, grandma of the world!” jazz blacked a swipe of the stick with his boot. “Hard to believe you aren't taken.”
“Scum!”
“I ain't on nobody's side,” he said.
“Even worse!”
The rest of her rat-like clan came forward now, whipped up by her hysteria. It was all the rebels could do to retreat quickly, taking their chances in the open with the Corporation ships, chased by a hail of stocks and stones. They were half way across when a Corporation ship appeared overhead. Someone yanked the hood off Jazz' head to reveal a long straight avenue. Collapse roadways and crumbling entrance ramps curved away to desolation, seeming even more so in the waning light. From a small mound of debris a faded green rectangular sigh read:
EISENHOWER EXPRESSWAY
FULLERTON AVENUE
NEXT RIGHT
Beneath it another smaller neon orange sign read:
CONSTRUCTION AHEAD
REDUCE SPEED
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