The Vigilante Chronicles Omnibus

by Natalie Grey

  “Whilst ignoring the effects those jobs had on others.”

  Again Gar held his tongue, answering with a simple, “Yes.”

  Barnabas thought Stephen would be impressed. When Barnabas had first met Gar and the Luvendi had run from him Barnabas had held him in complete contempt, but even in the first meeting he had seen something unusual in Gar.

  He was willing to face his past mistakes. He did not protest or make excuses.

  It was one of the reasons Barnabas believed Gar could atone for his past wrongs.

  “Have you heard of Stephen?” he asked Gar.

  “I…have not, no.”

  “He is another like me, from Earth. Those with our abilities had a familial structure. We would pass those abilities to ‘children’ who were not of our lineage, but chosen due to their characters. We were responsible for their actions, so we tried to select carefully. Stephen made some mistakes when he chose, and his first meeting with Bethany Anne was…unpleasant. Now he is one of the first among her friends.” Barnabas smiled slightly. “Gar, a person can move beyond their mistakes and become something greater, but they must reflect on those mistakes, not simply admit to them. They must understand why they made them and what they will change to avoid them in the future.”

  Gar frowned. He was not entirely sure where this was going.

  “You are so eager to figure out what you want to do that you are ignoring what you were,” Barnabas told him. “You want to prove yourself, so you are trying to mold yourself into anything and everything you think might be…” He paused and smiled wryly. “Sufficient to save your life, if I’m guessing correctly.”

  “Yes,” Gar admitted. He swallowed nervously.

  “Stephen let his children run roughshod because they were his weakness,” Barnabas explained. “He loved each of them and that love led him to look the other way rather than fight them. Even when he knew they were wrong, he did not do what he should have to stop them. Though he is now a very different person in some ways, that care for his family still remains. Do you see?”

  “I…don’t think I do.”

  “Even I don’t,” Shinigami concurred.

  Barnabas looked annoyed at her interjection, but when he looked at Gar again, it was with practiced good humor.

  “You have good qualities,” he told Gar bluntly. “Both good qualities and bad can lead to mistakes. If you want to rebuild yourself into a different kind of person, into the kind of person who could be an ally of mine, then you must capitalize on your good qualities to keep the bad in check. It is a choice you will make every day; every time there is the chance to do the wrong or easier thing.”

  Gar hesitated, then nodded.

  “You have shown creativity,” Barnabas explained. “Today, for instance, you drew on your knowledge of other Luvendi to get information from these files that neither Shinigami nor I could have extracted. You have shown an ability to read the people you talk to and elicit information from them. In the past, your cowardice led you to use these skills to get ahead, no matter what the cost.”

  “I thought that everyone was just out for themselves,” Gar admitted quietly. “That everyone would screw one another over given the opportunity. I thought I should just play the game as well as I could, and that the people I took advantage of would not be upset because I was doing the same thing they would in my place. I valued my physical safety above all else.”

  “And now?” Barnabas asked.

  “Now I think I have made some terrible mistakes.” Gar hung his head in shame. “When I let Lan shoot me, I did so because it was more important to me to confront him than it was to be safe. In retrospect, that seems terribly foolish.”

  “Confronting injustice is never foolish,” Barnabas told him gravely. Then, seeing Gar’s solemn face, he winked. “Though I would invest in a bulletproof vest if you intend to do that often.”

  Gar chuckled. “They showed me there was another way.” His spine straightened again. “On High Tortuga. The mine workers took risks for one another. It was the complete opposite of anything I had ever experienced. It made so little sense to me that I did not even perceive it as something which could happen. I would like to fight for something like they fought for their freedom, but I don’t know what I want to fight for.”

  “It’s a good start.” Barnabas nodded. “A very good start. You say these people aren’t friends? Lan wasn’t your friend. You’ve kept yourself apart from everything for a long time, Gar. I think if you stop doing that, you’ll find something you want to fight for.”

  He smiled and left Gar to his thoughts and his research.

  Don’t you want to debrief?

  We can do it later. Barnabas made his way to the bridge. Between Shinigami’s piloting capabilities and the fact that they had yet to engage in a ship-to-ship conflict together, Barnabas was rarely in that location.

  He was not sure what had brought him here now. He wandered around the room, hands in his pockets, inspecting the computer terminals and the captain’s chair.

  Could I make an observation? Shinigami asked.

  It depends on whether you intend to be snarky.

  It’s not snark. She waited a moment. I don’t think that speech back there was all for Gar. I think some of it was what you needed to hear.

  I like to think I already have a very well-tuned moral compass, thank you. And a good grasp of my strengths and weaknesses.

  No, you don’t. All right, the morals I’ll give you. But when was the last time you let someone in?

  Tabitha. Barnabas settled into the captain’s chair. A bizarre choice.

  You know that’s not true. And yes, you did let her in. And Bethany Anne, and some of the rest. But they were all part of…something more. You didn’t have to let your guard down in the same way. You could be a part of the group. When it’s not like that, you hold yourself apart just as much as Gar does.

  I do not. What about Carter? Aebura?

  People you left behind on the planet with a smile and a wave. You should set up a weekly game night with Carter. See? When I said that you looked really uncomfortable.

  Barnabas stood up again and glared at nothing in particular. It was annoying to argue with Shinigami. He never knew where to direct his expressions.

  And what about Sarah? Shinigami asked finally.

  Barnabas went still. He swallowed. He wasn’t even sure how Shinigami knew about Sarah. Who had mentioned her?

  What about her?

  You know exactly what I mean, Shinigami told him. I don’t know a ton about humans, but I know what you looked like when you came in here, and that’s lonely. You miss Tabitha and the rest of them.

  I had to come out here on my own. It was what I needed to do.

  Shinigami hesitated for a long moment before she spoke again. You need other people too, or you’ll lose sight of what you’re fighting for.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tagurn was sweating nervously.

  He knew Fedden was furious with him, and he hoped that whatever happened he’d be able to explain what was going on. Tagurn hadn’t meant to be disloyal. He didn’t like Crallus very much, and he definitely didn’t like the new second-in-command.

  Or whatever that Torcellan was. Tagurn could just see the pale hands. The being made sure his face was well shadowed and he sat in a chair at the corner of the room, as self-possessed as if he were the one running everything.

  Maybe he was. Tagurn could see Crallus working not to look over his shoulder. Was he nervous? Was he waiting for the Torcellan’s approval of his plans?

  It didn’t matter very much. All that mattered was getting Fedden out of this alive. Tagurn had known as soon as the shot went wild that Fedden’s only chance of survival was to have someone speaking on his behalf. If they both launched themselves into the fight, it would turn into a brawl and people were likely to die, Fedden and Tagurn included.

  However, if it was just one fighter, people might hang back.

  So Tagurn had gone to
speak to Crallus, and he’d heard the boss’s assessment: challenges weren’t personal, they were just part of the business, but Fedden had shown he wasn’t to be trusted with the lives of the ships’ captains. He would have to pay.

  And now they’d called Tagurn here.

  He linked his hands behind his back and forced himself to meet Crallus’ eyes. He would get nowhere by being deferential. Deference was a weakness. Tagurn needed to argue his point.

  But what was his point?

  “Tell us about the human and the Luvendi,” the Torcellan prompted.

  “We met the Luvendi on Virtue Station. He told us he’d had his mine shut down on Devon.” Tagurn looked only at Crallus as he answered. Are you really in charge here?

  Perhaps in answer, Crallus looked back at the Torcellan. He winced as he did so. The wound had been stabilized, but no technology the syndicate had on Zahal could heal a bullet hole so quickly.

  “What were their names?” the Torcellan pressed. “What was their ship?”

  “We were not told the human’s name. I assumed it was not important since he was treated as a very junior associate.” It was difficult to know if his words were being well received with the Torcellan’s face hidden in shadow. The alien had leaned back, finally. Though he was looking toward Tagurn, there was no way to know his expression.

  For all Tagurn knew he was digging himself into a massive hole.

  The Torcellan’s reply was carefully neutral. “You assumed it was not important.”

  Tagurn’s heart sank. This was not a good sign. “Yes.”

  “You were sent to find information about what happened on Devon, an event that is tied directly to a human presence there, and you did not ask for more information about a human you knew had been on the planet?”

  “We didn’t know if he… He might have been hired…” Tagurn stuttered to a stop and let his head drop. There were too many failures for him to rectify. He had come in here intending to talk about Fedden challenging Crallus and instead they were talking about the information from Devon.

  He wasn’t sure why it was so damned important. Mercenaries died all the time. Mercenaries who died because they underestimated their opponents weren’t worth avenging; they were a dead weight that had been cut off.

  You were better off without someone like that on your team.

  “Perhaps you think this issue is not worthy of your attention?” the Torcellan asked. He was eerily perceptive.

  Tagurn fought the urge to flee.

  “You would be wrong,” Crallus told him. After his silence so far the low growl of his voice surprised Tagurn. “What happened on Devon is part of a much larger event. It threatens…wider interests.”

  The Torcellan made a faint hissing noise and Crallus stopped talking. So he wasn’t a second-in-command at all, Tagurn realized. He was in charge, somehow. This just kept getting worse.

  Tagurn gathered all his courage and looked at Crallus, then at the Torcellan. “What can we do to make this right?”

  There was a pause. “‘We?’” the Torcellan echoed.

  “Fedden. Me.” Tagurn’s hands clenched.

  “You’re sticking with him, then?” Crallus’ face was unreadable.

  Tagurn should run. He knew that. He should ask to join another crew, beg for another chance after having tainted his reputation by even being associated with Fedden. To his surprise, though, he found he wasn’t willing to do that.

  “He is my captain and my friend,” Tagurn told them. Then, because he realized that if they were going to kill him the decision was already made, he added, “You’re angry that he killed another captain, but that captain was trying to kill him. I know how it started, but you said yourself that challenges are part of this life.”

  To his surprise, Crallus smiled. It was not a nice smile, but it didn’t promise death and retribution, either. “I did say that,” the syndicate leader agreed. “That’s how I took over. He did it in public. He didn’t try to sneak around. I can respect that.”

  The Torcellan made a faint disgusted noise. “We do not have time for this. Shrillexian, you asked what you could do to make this right.”

  Crallus and Tagurn exchanged a look and Tagurn’s curiosity deepened. This Torcellan seemed to know nothing and care for nothing about their life, but Crallus was listening to him. Crallus didn’t seem to care much about the humans on Devon. He had never been one to bow and scrape to other people. Hell, he told even their richest clients to fuck off if they got annoying.

  Why the hell was he listening now? Why was he sending his captains to collect information, and why had he mentioned “wider interests?”

  Crallus said nothing now, and Tagurn realized that even he did not know what the Torcellan was going to say. What the hell was going on here?

  “We have a name,” the Torcellan informed them. “The ship that took down ours was almost certainly the Shinigami. It’s a human ship associated with…whatever the humans call themselves now. A Federation, apparently.” He waved a hand dismissively. “We have heard whispers that a Ranger was involved—not Ranger Two, the one many people know about, but Ranger One. This is unconfirmed, but if it happens to be true… Well, let us simply say that many people would be happy to have such a menace removed.”

  Tagurn swallowed. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going.

  “Normally, the person who took down this ship and this human could expect great renown,” the Torcellan continued. “They would be a hero—or whatever you people call someone who defends the group. Do mercenaries even have a word for that?”

  The contempt was so sudden and so thick that even Crallus tensed.

  “We are not animals,” the syndicate leader protested. “We defend our own. Why do you think the ships went to Devon in the first place?”

  The Torcellan lifted an ambivalent shoulder. He seemed unconvinced of any higher motive beyond a propensity for violence.

  “As I mentioned, such a one would ordinarily expect riches beyond their wildest dreams. Fame. That one could expect to be honored. But you can expect much more, Tagurn. Much more even than that.”

  Tagurn frowned.

  “You,” the Torcellan told him, “can expect to be forgiven.” There was a silence. “Do you not understand? That is how completely you have failed. The kind of extraordinary deed that would normally bring you wealth, fame, and a fleet of your own—all of that is needed simply to bring you back to zero.”

  Tagurn’s heart almost stopped.

  “And yet you will be permitted to redeem yourself,” the Torcellan continued beatifically. “Is this not wonderful news?”

  Before a week ago I didn’t even know you existed, Tagurn wanted to say. Crallus doesn’t seem to know what you’re going for. Why the hell should I care whether you think I’ve redeemed myself?

  He did not say it. Something in the Torcellan’s tone and in the way he had come in here and simply expected Crallus’ obedience hinted at larger events in play. Events Tagurn could not comprehend.

  He had spent years as a mercenary, fighting for people who wanted to take anything they laid their eyes on. Those people wanted to be feared, but Tagurn hadn’t feared them. Without mercenaries on their side they were nothing.

  For the first time though, he had the sense that the universe was larger than he knew. That there were people he had never heard of who cared about what he did, and who could crush him like a bug if he displeased them.

  It terrified him.

  “May I go get Fedden?” he asked.

  The Torcellan sank back in his seat with a faint air of disappointment, but Crallus nodded.

  “Go. Get him. Find the Shinigami and kill the human.”

  “There will need to be proof,” the Torcellan murmured. “And the ship, itself, Tagurn. Do not forget to bring that back. There is something aboard that we need.”

  “What?” Tagurn could not keep himself from asking.

  “One of their AIs. We have not yet managed to capture one. Onc
e it is ours… Well, it is of no consequence to you. Go. Redeem yourself.” The Torcellan nodded to Crallus. “We have come across some information that will help you find allies. The human killed two Luvendi—Venfirdri Lan and Venfaldri Gar. Proof of this may help you. You see, we are not cruel. We are giving you a chance to succeed.”

  Venfaldri Gar? No. It couldn’t be.

  But there was no mistaking it.

  No. Oh, no. They were so fucking screwed.

  “One other thing,” the Torcellan added. His voice was pleasant, but it somehow also turned Tagurn’s blood to ice. “We have several other individuals now searching for the ship and its captain. You will only be absolved if you find it first.”

  Tagurn managed to keep his face straight as he ducked his head and hurried out of the room, but as soon as he was in the corridor he ran as if he were being chased by a pack of bloodthirsty ekthoya.

  He practically skidded into the brig, to find that Fedden was already being released. The other Shrillexian bared his teeth at Tagurn. “Get out of my sight.”

  “We have to leave. Right now.” Tagurn shook his head, and when Fedden only glared at him he grabbed his captain by the arm and dragged him into a corner. “I’ll explain what I did later, and if you still want to kill me you’re welcome to try. But right now we have to get out of here. You will die if you don’t. Every second we’re here is a risk.”

  Fedden didn’t look any friendlier, but whatever he saw in Tagurn’s face, he didn’t argue.

  They strode through the halls with the back of Tagurn’s neck prickling. Every fiber of his being was consumed with the desperate hope that they could kill the human and rectify their mistake.

  Before that damned Torcellan learned that they’d had two chances at the Shinigami and missed them both.

  Chapter Twelve

  At least once every day when he thought no one was looking, Barnabas snuck away to a corner of the ship to sit quietly by himself.

  Shinigami tried not to interrupt him when he did this. It was such a quintessentially human thing to do, to forget that she was an AI and was omnipresent on this ship. There were no private places.