Angry Jasper-Eighteen

At twice the circumference of the moon the wheel was an impressive sight. Shimmering blue and green and silver-white just beyond the moon’s orbit the wheel reminded Jazz of those old images of Earth before war and the Corporation had turned it into a virtual ashtray. The wheel turned slowly on great spokes that connected in the center at the Governor’s palace. Jazz threw his feet onto the console and leaned back in the big leather pilot's seat as the wheel faded in the distance. He watched it for a time before turning his attention to more pressing matters.

Madame Pie had fronted him twenty-five thousand credits. He had already used most of it for provisions, to get the ship repaired and send old Doc Redhorse a box of his favorite Venetian cigars. When all this was over he’d see about getting a new ship, but at sixty or eighty thousand credits, that was a long way off.

He had no illusion about the dangerous nature of this mission. It was likely to be the riskiest he had ever undertaken. Enough that no small part of him thought the prudent move would be to spend the credits on supplies and fixing the ship, split to one of those roughshod colonies on the frontiers of the solar system and disappear for good. He'd get a fine job wrangling comets for water, and selling it yuppies at some frontier spa (yes, they still exist), or to colonists for a hefty little profit. What did he care for Old Lady Pie? Damned if Jazz wasn’t too honest for that sort of thing. Jazz was just too decent for his own damn good.

He'd saved a cigar for himself. He didn't smoke them much. The fragrance of the finely rolled leaves reminded him of his father, and a time when life had the chance to go so many better directions than this one. He ran the cigar slowly beneath his nose, taking in the cigar’s peppery-warm scent.

He was thinking that he hadn’t asked for nearly enough from the old bat. She had caved in a little too quickly. Hell, the old gal could have easily afforded another fifty thousand credits. That would have put him on easy street for, well, maybe for good. Then he wouldn’t have to traipse all over god’s creation, picking fights with Cretans, creeps and creatures!

Invariably Jazz' thoughts turned to Kate. He wondered where she was, and who she was with. It was that second part that tore at him most. Why couldn't he have lived a normal life, he wondered? What was it about Katy-did that spoiled him to other women? She was clearly not good for him, and vice versa? But something about her felt eternal, as though the entire purpose for the universe was to bring the two of them together in this life with the express purpose of making him gloriously miserable!

“Get over it, Jazz,” he groaned.

The ship moved into low Earth orbit. Jazz sat up and harnessed himself in for what was sure to be a rough entry. Below huge trenches gouged deep into the Russian steppe for thousands of miles. Caught by the morning sun deep dark shadows filled them to the brim. The land was parched and barren in a dull golden gray landscape now covered the planet, with only pockets of dusty green along the coasts.

Crossing the scarred and quarried Himalayas Jazz spied a pair of twin peaks and immediately thought of Kate again. He was missing her exquisite boobs. Jazz closed his eyes a moment and could almost feel them slapping him in the face as she rode him. Jazz smiled wistfully at the vision and could almost smell her sweat and musk. He imagined them together, in the wild throes of animal passion, as they had been a thousand times before.

Jazz chased away the thoughts. He’d put on a couple pounds lately, and the suit was getting tight. He didn’t need to make it any worse by thinking dirty thoughts about Katy. Besides, things were about to get a whole lot crazier from here on out and he'd need all the focus he could muster.

The holographic instrument readings in front of him danced and flickered as the ship skated over the atmosphere. Jazz was threading a needle here. Too high and he might run into a Corporation patrol cruiser. Too low and he could easily be tracked by Rebel batteries that would blast him out of the sky. Coming back to Earth always made for a tricky run. He set a course in the navigation system, keeping one eye to space for Corporation ships. The plan was simple. Jazz would come in high above the ancient ruins of old Chicago and then plunge towards the surface in hopes of outsmarting Rebel gunners.

Crossing the great Pacific basin, all but drained by the Corporation Jazz spotted Maury’s atomic weapon as maneuvered into low Earth orbit. He watched curiously as the narrow end tipped slowly towards the planet. It was obviously some sort of weapon, the likes of which he had never seen before. He lingered for a time, his gaze fixed almost hypnotically upon the object.

Jazz lingered just a bit too long. There were Corporation fighters everywhere above him now, though for the moment they hadn't appeared to notice him. Jazz had little interest in waiting around to be discovered, even accidentally. Pushing the throttle forward, he turned towards the northwest. And made his final run at Chicago.