by Natalie Grey
All right, I have to butt in here. “Old?” That’s a bold card for you to play.
It’s not about how old I am, it’s about how old he feels.
Rationalize it however you want, but Tabitha’s still going to laugh herself sick when she hears about this.
If she hears about it, I’ll have Bethany Anne assign you to run the laundromats on the new base. I’ll have her make it a law that that’s your job.
Interesting. I’ll think about that.
“I am not slow,” Jutkelon ground out. His strength was failing him but he was a Brakalon, damn this little alien to hell. He’d been fighting wars since this one was—
How long did humans live?
Well, he had to have more fighting experience. This human was an insignificant gnat, an insect that knew nothing of the world.
He didn’t know it yet, but he would die in about thirty seconds without ever appreciating just how wrong he had been.
“Then end it,” Barnabas shot back. “Because if you don’t, that ship is leaving without you. They don’t care enough about you to hold the door.”
With a scream of fury, Jutkelon charged. His heavy feet pounded toward Barnabas and he bared his teeth in a snarl when he saw that the human wasn’t moving. Fool. He picked up speed. Damned fool—not moving yet. Did he really think he could absorb a hit from a Brakalon?
Only at the last moment when it was too late to stop did it occur to Jutkelon to wonder what the human knew that he didn’t. And by the time he’d gotten through that thought there were blades sticking out of his back and red eyes staring him down as he slumped to his knees.
“I don’t mind pride,” Barnabas mused. “Maybe I should. It’s a sin, after all, but I find I’m sympathetic to that particular one. I don’t mind you fighting for what you believe in either. I’d kill you, of course, but I’d kill you cleanly, as a worthy opponent.” The blades moved and Jutkelon screamed. “But fighting like this? Fighting for something you don’t even care about because you just want to be able to kill who you want, hurt who you want, and have no one get in your way? That’s the very definition of evil. You’re going to die slowly so you have time to think about just how badly you’ve failed.”
The world was made of pain and Jutkelon gasped for air, feeling cold weakness crawl up his limbs. He fought it desperately; he was not going to die like this. He couldn’t die like this, not now, not with those eyes watching him. He looked around desperately for something to stop him from dying.
There had to be a way.
“Even at the end you don’t care about anything but your own life,” Barnabas declared coldly. “You are filth. No one will remember your name. No one will pray for you. And because you built nothing in life, your legacy will not endure.”
He yanked his blades out of the Brakalon’s chest and watched the light fade from his eyes.
That was less painful than he deserved.
I know, but if you tried to return every bit of cruelty he’d perpetrated we’d be here for decades. Go get Lan. I’ve got a carrier to lure into the mountains.
Barnabas smiled coldly. As the carrier’s engines revved up and the ship sped away— without a single thought for Jutkelon, he would bet—he took a running leap and summoned all the force he could call on, bodily and Etheric and armor, to break the hinges that held the heavy metal gates in place. They came down in a shriek of twisted metal and he strode over them on his way into the city.
Aebura, where did Lan go?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lan was so absorbed in running that he’d gone past three streets before he noticed Tethra was deserted.
He limped to a stop and looked around. He was panting, and now that he’d stopped he could feel how much pain was coming from his legs. Had he damaged something in the fall?
It was likely, but he couldn’t even focus on it in the eerie silence. The shooting and screams behind him were either too distant to hear or Barnabas had run out of people to kill. Frankly, he found the second option more likely. He limped a few more steps, peered around a corner, and shuddered. Tethra’s main market sprawled over many streets, and he was on the outskirts of it.
And it was completely empty. The stalls were devoid of wares, and instead of being waved by energetic peddlers, the flags that served as signs were hanging limply in the fetid swampy air.
The troop carrier shot overhead and its noise—and passing—caused the flags to flutter. Lan shuddered again, then looked behind him. He had to get somewhere safe, and he’d been counting on the crowds in the marketplace to hide him.
Wait. He peered upward. The troop carrier was flying. Had any soldiers actually made it onto that thing? Were they really that stupid?
Many miles above, Shinigami was asking herself the same question. She had set the plan in motion and watched it play out with satisfaction, but now that it was actually working she was having trouble believing what she was seeing. Was it possible she had miscalculated? Had she been tricked somehow?
She doubtfully asked Barnabas and heard him snicker.
No, they really are just that stupid.
Stupid and totally without morals. If she’d had eyes, they would have narrowed. As it was, she zoomed in on the ship and scanned it, only to see the soldiers arming themselves within. Their leader is dead, and as far as they know Lan is too.
And?
And they’re going to try to hurt the miners anyway.
He had been walking through the streets of Tethra, but now she felt him stop. His blood pressure began to rise. Let me at them.
No, you take out Lan. Doing it this way is a good plan. Don’t look at the explosion, by the way.
The idea that “cool people” don’t look at explosions is ridiculous.
No, it’s going to be very bright. You don’t want to have to go back to the Meredith Reynolds to get your eyes fixed, do you? Missiles launching in 3, 2—
Wait, you’re not going to have any more fun with them? Show up on their screens, make your voice go all echoey?
I would, but they’re flying it manually with all the electronics off. Although… She pondered. One moment.
A few moments later, a remote guidance system composed of small plates appeared alongside the ship and attached themselves gently to the hull.
Okay, watch this. Shinigami projected the raw video into an eyepiece Barnabas held up to view. Aaaaaand left. Just a little, just a little, haven’t noticed yet—oh, they’re noticing, they’re turning the rudders, they’re realizing nothing’s happening…. Yep, they’re totally panicking. Wait until they turn the rudder allllll the way and—hahahahahaha.
The guidance system stopped directing the carrier and, suddenly freed from its constraints, it tumbled hard to the right. Soldiers went sprawling and the pilot scrambled to make a recovery. Shinigami and Barnabas laughed until they cried.
Okay, that was fun. Don’t look, I’ll play the video for you later. Everything’s fine, they’re speeding up, and….
Out over the countryside, where the swamp first gave way to the rocky outcroppings of the mountains, the guidance system dragged the ship into a new trajectory and a spread of guided missiles hit it a moment later, sending it tumbling into the foothills with a flash that noticeably brightened the air as far away as in Tethra.
How much fuel did they have?
A lot, and it was some proprietary type that— You know what, I’ll just send you the schematics. Go after Lan now. Good hunting. Ah, that video of them trying to steer is gold. I’ll be watching that one for years.
Barnabas snickered and returned to the chase. By now Lan should be several more streets ahead of him.
He liked a challenge.
Indeed, several streets north, Lan had looked up when he saw the flash. He could only guess what it was, but he didn’t have any doubts. Idiots. He was beginning to think they wouldn’t have gotten the mine back after all. None of them had any sense to speak of.
Yes, as he had predicted, they were dead an
d he…
Well, he needed to find a place to hide. Hissing at the pain, Lan forced himself to limp more quickly. He had tried the doors, but when he knocked all of them were locked and no one answered.
Sometimes he thought he heard things skittering nearby and looked up, skin prickling on the back of his neck, in time to see shadows but nothing more. Was someone watching him?
Was it Barnabas?
He had just looked away after trying to catch a glimpse of whoever it was when he glanced back and nearly had heart failure when he saw a figure standing in the street.
He glared at Gar and spat, “Traitor.”
Gar smiled. For a moment—before anger crowded out everything else—Lan’d had the sense that Gar was trying to be bitter but could only manage to be sad.
“I’m not a traitor,” he replied simply. “I was never loyal to you. People like you and me don’t earn loyalty, Lan. You have to be owed something to be betrayed.”
“Dress it up however you like,” Lan shot back furiously. “You sold me out to save your miserable life.”
“I did,” Gar agreed. “But you deserved your punishment. You can hardly argue with that.”
Barnabas watched unnoticed from a doorway in the shadows nearby. He was curious. This confrontation had not been a part of the plan, and he wanted to see how it played out.
“I can and I do.” Lan stabbed a finger in Gar’s direction. “I did nothing wrong, and neither did you—until you betrayed me.”
“I did nothing wrong until I helped Barnabas, you mean? Do you really believe that?” Gar started to laugh.
“What can be done—”
“Should be done? Whatever you can get away with you should do?”
“Like you ever thought any differently.” Lan could barely speak for rage. “You’re no priest, to be judging me.”
“Barnabas is,” Gar observed.
One of Lan’s hands drifted to where he had stowed a pistol in the small of his back.
He has a gun.
I see it, Barnabas told Shinigami.
Are you going to let him kill Gar?
Honestly? I’m not sure yet.
“I warned you away from your worst excesses at first,” Gar told Lan, “by saying they would be bad for business. I saw you appropriating funds and said nothing. I aided you when you had workers executed. I didn’t stop you when you extended contracts. I might not have known until recently that you were doing it all for your own benefit, but I could have stepped in at any time. I should have stepped in. I was wrong.”
“That’s just petty moralizing, the sort done by little people who like to hold others back.”
“It’s not. Do you not see, Lan? You keep telling yourself that what you did was all right because you were getting away with it, but you did too much. What I’m doing, what Barnabas is doing—that’s you not getting away with it anymore. This is the other side of that coin. You skimmed profits and kept slaves for years, but now it’s over.”
The gun came up. Lan’s arm was shaking with pain and anger, but he was going to shoot Gar no matter what it took. He’d make him admit that he deserved no mercy, he decided, and then kill him. Yes.
Gar did not run away. He folded his hands into his sleeves and waited.
“Say something, damn you!”
“What should I say?” Gar sounded amused. “You were right. I sold you out to save myself. Before that, I did not turn on you—again—to save myself. Before that, I fled Luvendan because I was afraid for my life. I have spent it running. And last night when you ordered the attack, I hid the children and went to get Barnabas because I knew he would stop you. For the first time in my life, I did the stupid thing. The thing that would get me killed. Now…”
Lan sneered. “Now you’ve developed a taste for it?”
“Now I’m free.” Gar spread his hands. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
The gun went off and the shot echoed around the street, and Barnabas ran for the figure crumpled on the ground. Shinigami! I need a Pod!
I had one waiting. It sank into the street and Barnabas bundled Gar inside. A door opened nearby for Carter to dash out, and Barnabas jerked his head at the Pod. “Am I glad to see you. Go back to the Shinigami with him, will you? Get pressure on the wound and follow her instructions to get him into the Pod-doc.”
Carter nodded. He had seen the confrontation unfolding and found himself terrified for Gar, despite all he knew about the male. He ducked into the Pod and pressed a piece of cloth over the wound in Gar’s side.
“Don’t die on us after that speech. What were you thinking?”
“That I’d—” Gar gasped in pain, “delay him.”
“Barnabas would have caught him anyway.”
“Okay, so I just wanted to tell him how much of a bastard he was.”
Carter laughed. “Now that I’d buy. Come on, buddy. We’re going to get you all fixed up.”
Back on the street, Barnabas watched the Pod rise into the sky. He was aware of the gun coming up again behind him.
“I wouldn’t,” he warned, his voice as cold as winter. He looked over his shoulder, not even bothering to draw his weapon. “Did it work? Shooting him, I mean?”
Lan frowned. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, but—”
“Did you think that killing him would make the things he said not true?” Barnabas asked mildly. “Or did you just want to kill him because he made you see what you’d done?”
“He was an idiot. He didn’t show me anything. I should have gotten better mercenaries.”
“You know…” Barnabas turned to regard Lan with a sigh. “We have a concept on Earth, referred to in various ways. Tyrants always fall. It doesn’t matter how good their mercenaries are, or how careful they are about keeping people in line. Eventually their reigns end in blood. If you had staved off this attempt there would have been another, and another, and another, until you died. You think the Yollin king’s problem was insufficient mercenaries?”
Lan stared at him. He wanted to snarl in wordless rage. He was beginning to understand why Jutkelon had gone after Barnabas.
“By the way,” Barnabas added, spiking Lan’s anger even further, “I want to make it clear that you’re going to die at the end of this conversation.”
“Then why talk to me?” Lan nearly screamed the words.
Barnabas was right, damn him. Lan couldn’t fight him. No one could fight him. This was all just him preening; strutting around to show people how moral and correct he was.
“For the benefit of those watching,” Barnabas told him, confirming Lan’s fears. “Though not for the reasons you may think. Lan, you are the first in what I assume—jadedly, I admit—will be a long line of people who try to ignore the Queen’s laws. They’ll give me all sorts of reasons. Some, like King Yoll, will dress it up as divine right. Others, like Jutkelon, will say that no one has any right to interfere in their affairs. You simply thought you could get away with it.”
Barnabas shook his head, his expression implacable. “You can’t. That’s why I’m here, it’s why I exist. You can’t get away with it. No one can. And you’re going to be the first public example of that.”
Actually, the carrier was the first example.
Good point, but walking back on that now is going to look ridiculous. Maybe we could just count it as part of the same incident?
Shinigami wished for the umpteenth time that she had eyes to roll.
“Your Queen is also going to fall,” Lan promised Barnabas. “You said tyrants always fall. She will fall too!”
Oh no he di-idn’t.
“I’m going to explain this once, and once only.” Barnabas advanced on Lan, his voice dangerously quiet. “Venfaldri Lan, you have disobeyed the laws I follow, which are higher than any of you have known. You disobeyed these laws because you thought you were beyond judgment. No one is beyond judgment. My Queen believes that all who desire to make themselves and their lives better should prosper, if their desires h
arm no one. Those who wish to crush others, however, or use them as you have done? Those people she has no mercy for, and neither do I. It is not a tyrant’s decree to outlaw slavery, because no matter what words you use or how you hide it behind contracts, that was what you were doing—keeping slaves. You were not judged today simply for running a business. You were judged for owning slaves and have been found guilty.”
Lan fired, and Barnabas took the bullet and kept advancing. He did not so much as stumble.
“You are going to die, Venfaldri Lan.”
Another shot.
By now he really should have figured out those aren’t doing anything, Shinigami commented.
The last three shots were made as quickly as Lan could pull the trigger, then he fell to the ground and tried to crawl away—only to have Barnabas haul him upright.
“I suppose it would be too much to hope that you understand your mistake.”
Lan’s face twisted. “I didn’t kiss up to you like Gar did?”
Barnabas’s knives raked down Lan’s body and he screamed until he died.
“Wrong,” Barnabas finished. “But that was what I expected. Your kind never learn.”
He looked around as people began to come out of their houses. Ubuara were clustered on the roofs, and Aebura swung down to crouch near Barnabas’s feet.
“They’re all dead?”
“They are all dead,” Barnabas said. He made sure his voice carried. “The ones involved in this, anyway. There may be more. But if there are, we’ll catch them, and we’ll make them pay, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Come see, come see, come see!” Aebura bounded ahead, periodically climbing the sides of buildings and swinging along. She was almost glowing with her exuberance, and her words kept getting lost in the general chitter of her voice. Barnabas could feel the wash of excitement coming off her. It smelled of sunlight and he had a brief, jarring memory of a happy moment in his childhood, bare feet on dirt, summer sunshine and the smell of plants…
