by Natalie Grey
“It can be difficult to talk about oneself,” Aliana said with surprising severity. She reminded Barnabas of nothing so much as a young lady’s governess. “Don’t give him a hard time.”
“I’m interested where you heard the story,” Barnabas stated casually. He was amused at the spike of worry he felt in Aliana’s thoughts. “It shouldn’t be well-known off of High Tortuga. It’s not even very well-known on High Tortuga.”
It was amusing to watch Aliana’s mind race through different options, discarding some as too improbable, others as too risky.
“I met another human on Border Station 7,” she said finally with a shrug. “They mentioned that they’d worked with some former miners, aliens who’d been imprisoned on High Tortuga. They said some of the mine owners had tried to hold out and not obey the Empress’ orders. I was interested in the story.” She saw a gap in her lies and filled it hastily. “And since I didn’t have anywhere to be just yet, when Uncle Carter asked me to come visit, I did.” She smiled at Carter. “It’s been too long since we caught up. I didn’t even know he had kids.”
“How are the twins?” Barnabas asked Carter. “And Elisa? And the little one, of course.”
“There’s another kid?” Aliana demanded.
“Not just yet,” Carter said. “Elisa’s pregnant. The twins…” He sighed. “Alanna wants to be a vigilante when she grows up just like her Uncle Barnabas, so Elisa might not be best pleased with you. Although she may just think a vigilante is someone who shows up periodically with presents, so…”
Barnabas laughed.
“Alanna?” Aliana asked.
“I know. I asked if she’d consider Aliana instead, but apparently it’s one of her favorite characters from a book, so there was no budging on that one.” He grinned at his niece. “And Samuel is the other one.”
“Alanna and Samuel. I like it. Any names for the next one—or is it twins again?”
From the look on Carter’s face, he hadn’t considered that possibility. “Oh, no.”
“I-I didn’t mean… Oh, dear.” Aliana shot Barnabas a look of appeal. Help!
She didn’t know he could hear her thoughts, of course, but the expression was clear enough. He gave her a tiny nod and reached over to pat Carter’s hand.
“Twins are very rare,” he comforted the other man. “And even if it is twins—”
Carter gave a strangled noise of despair.
“Even if it is twins,” Barnabas continued serenely, “you’ll have all the babysitters you could ever need.”
“I’ll come to stay,” Aliana offered. “Give you and Elisa a hand. And, uh, I’m sure Barnabas will…” She trailed off. “Sorry,” she mouthed at him.
He gave her a “Don’t worry about it” headshake. “We’ll be back to help at the bar, and Tafa is probably a good babysitter. I get that vibe.”
“You just want to run the bar so you can steal all the juice.” Carter stabbed a finger at Barnabas in a mock accusation. He’d recovered his equilibrium, though, and was smiling again. “I know we’ll get through it just fine if there are two, but it was not easy last time, let me tell you.”
“I’m sure,” Barnabas agreed with feeling. He’d seen several children grow up on the Meredith Reynolds, and had never figured out how the parents he knew didn’t go completely insane. “Now, Aliana—”
Problem, Shinigami reported.
What’s wrong? Don’t tell me Zinqued made his move while Aliana was here?
I would refer to that as a “show,” not a problem. He could feel her amusement radiating through the Etheric, but she sobered quickly. No, it’s…you have a message. You should come back and see this.
Shinigami, what is it? Barnabas swallowed.
She hesitated, and he knew she was weighing whether to tell him—and that was what told him how serious it was.
It’s Jeltor, she said finally. Admiral Jeqwar says she has good reason to believe he’s been killed.
Chapter Fifteen
Barnabas didn’t remember exactly how he got back to the ship. He’d been around long enough to excuse himself politely without giving the process any conscious thought. He had a vague impression of both Carter and Aliana looking worried, but he was gone a moment later, running through the streets of Tethra and not caring who saw him moving at unusual speeds.
He thought he saw Zinqued hanging back in an alleyway with Tik’ta, but he did not give them any attention, and they made no move toward him. That was a good choice on their part. Barnabas was not in a forgiving mood right now.
He came in the door of the ship at a dead sprint and made his way to the conference room, adjusting his shirt and vest with sharp, angry gestures. Shinigami was waiting there with Gar and Tafa, all of them looking somber.
Barnabas did not meet their eyes. He could not trust his composure if he did. He only nodded brusquely in Shinigami’s direction and took a seat. He would behave as if he had the wherewithal to sit still, and hopefully, the act would become a reality.
Admiral Jeqwar appeared on the screen. Her body was very still in its tank, and the biosuit’s voice was flat and expressionless.
“Hello,” she said. “You are receiving this message because you have been deemed trustworthy by the Admiralty Board of the Jotun Navy. We continue our fight to make our government once more serve the Jotun people.”
Barnabas waited, drumming his fingers on the desk anxiously. He realized that Admiral Jeqwar must at all times speak as if her messages would be found and disseminated, but he only wanted to know one thing: what she knew about Jeltor.
“I have grave news,” Jeqwar continued. “After bringing the Admiralty Board news of great importance, Captain Jeltor was sent on a solo mission to uncover information about a false committee that has been deceiving the Senate as to its true purpose.”
“She’s good,” Shinigami murmured. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Her eyes didn’t waver from the video. “She gets to claim that she never went against the Senate, just traitors whom they should also condemn.”
Gar and Tafa nodded. Barnabas swallowed and kept watching.
“Unfortunately,” the admiral said, “immediately after leaving the briefing, Captain Jeltor was attacked and captured.”
A video appeared on screen: security footage slowed down to show Jeltor walking awkwardly through the streets—or at least, a Jotun in a biosuit. Something was off, however.
“That’s not his suit,” Barnabas said to Shinigami.
“She sent details about that,” Shinigami replied. “They met in disguise. That is him.”
Barnabas settled back in his chair, frowning. What if it’s her? he asked Shinigami. They watched as Jeltor was apprehended by two other Jotuns. Jeltor was incapacitated immediately. His biosuit froze and was picked up by a gravitic device of some sort before being rotated and placed in the back of a vehicle. The whole operation took only a few seconds; they had planned this.
We can check, Shinigami said, but from everything I’ve seen of her, she’s the real deal. She was in this the same way Jeltor was—she didn’t want it to be happening, but she was going to do her duty.
Keep checking in on her when you can, but if you’re not worried, we’ll let that go for now.
They watched another loop before Admiral Jeqwar reappeared onscreen. “The two Jotuns who apprehended Captain Jeltor are known assassins. After analysis of the holo, it appears that Captain Jeltor was killed instantly. Please report any communication that purports to be from Jeltor or anyone who has disguised themselves as the captain and tries to make contact with you.”
The video cut off.
“Oh,” Shinigami said. She looked at Barnabas. “I see.”
Barnabas gave her a nod.
“What?” Gar looked between them. “What do you see?”
“She doesn’t think he’s dead,” Barnabas said. “She thinks he’s been taken to be mind-wiped.”
“What?” Tafa sounded horrified. “Jeltor? I know that they c
an mind-wipe people, but they took him?”
“It makes sense,” Gar admitted. Now that he’d followed Barnabas’ and Shinigami’s leap, he could see the logic. “Who would they all trust more than anyone? Jeltor is the main figure in all this. They’re the ones who run the fleet—the admirals, I mean—but Jeltor was there from the start, finding out all of what they’d done with the Yennai Corporation and exposing it. He was probably the best person the committee could have chosen.”
Barnabas had to agree.
“But then why say…” Tafa’s voice trailed off. She looked at her lap, and when she looked up again, she was furious. “They don’t think he can be saved,” she said angrily. “They want people to behave like he’s just…gone. Like he’s never coming back.”
Barnabas nodded quietly. “Yes, they do.”
“It’s not right!”
Once, Barnabas knew, Tafa and Jeltor had not liked each other very much. They had been taken hostage by the same mercenary group and had been forced to rely on each other to survive. Once they had been rescued by the crew of the Shinigami, however, they had developed a true friendship.
He looked at her gravely. “I don’t think it’s right, either. Jeltor is our friend, and we won’t rest until he’s safe. With that said, I understand why she did what she did. If Jeltor is in their hands, he might very well have been mind-wiped already, and if he has been, he truly is an enemy. They cannot afford to be moved by pity, Tafa.”
“Couldn’t she just say something like he’s dangerous and don’t tell him anything? To capture him instead of killing him?”
“They could try. What if he hijacked whatever ship he was aboard? He has a security clearance, and he knows how ships work, so he could easily do damage to the fleet and access information that would help the committee. Tafa, he’s dangerous.” He saw her angry retort coming and held up a hand. “I promise we will do everything in our power to save him. I think we have a good chance. For all we know, he hasn’t even been wiped yet—and even if he has, we’ll find a way to undo it. But we need to be careful.”
Her two-thumbed hands clenched, but at last, she nodded and looked away.
“So let’s talk about that,” Barnabas said. “Right now. Because we can’t delay for a moment. If the Navy finds Jeltor first he’s in danger, so we need to find out where they took him to be wiped and learn anything we can about that process so that we can undo it if necessary.”
Everyone nodded.
“Who knows where he is?” Barnabas asked. “Think. Members of the committee—maybe. Probably, some do, and some do not. Some staff or aides.”
“The assassin might know,” Gar suggested.
“I might know,” Shinigami pointed out.
Everyone looked at her.
“I got a ton of data,” she said. “The problem is, no one keeps nice little lists of where all the secret bases are with coordinates or anything. They just mention ‘the research station’ or whatever. But with the digging I can do otherwise, maybe there’s enough of a clue.”
“Good,” Barnabas stated firmly. “Work on that and tell us what you find. Next step: we need to move Jeltor’s family somewhere he can’t find them.”
Gar’s mouth dropped open in horror. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Barnabas only nodded grimly. He wished that he hadn’t thought of it either, but after some of the missions he’d seen, he knew to secure civilians away from trouble if at all possible. In this case, Jeltor had to be assumed to be an enemy.
He wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to Jeltor’s wife. What would it be like, he wondered, to know that your spouse of many years still lived but was wholly unreachable?
He promised himself and her—and Jeltor—that he would find a solution.
“We should also send a message to Admiral Jeqwar,” Barnabas continued slowly. His mind was churning. What should the message say? How could he keep the true meaning of the words hidden while convincing her to help them save Jeltor’s life? Should he even admit to her what his plan was?
Shinigami was having the same thoughts, and she looked at him calmly. “I recommend simply telling her you received the message,” she advised. “That way, she’s not worried about you not knowing what to do if you see him, and you don’t have to argue with her about undoing the mind-wipe.”
Barnabas nodded. “I’ll compose—”
“No need. I can do it.” She seemed to have forgotten her body as she handled ship functions, research, and sending a message all at once, but finally, she said, “I have four potential locations for the research facility.”
“That was quick,” Barnabas exclaimed, surprised.
She gave him a withering look. “I’m an AI, remember? What would take you weeks takes me seconds.”
“Yes, yes.” Barnabas waved her over to the table. “We’re all insufferably stupid, and it’s very trying. You’re a saint in the body of a robot. Now come tell us what you found.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘insufferably stupid,’” she argued, coming over to sit. “Sometimes you’re quite clever. It helps that you make strange mental leaps without any logic.”
“Shinigami…”
“Ah, right.” Shinigami brought a map up on one of the screens. “All right. The closest location to us now would be Herothe, owned by an interspecies-conglomerate that rents to any number of companies. Aliens there—including alien captives, depressingly—probably wouldn’t attract any attention.”
Barnabas nodded.
“Next up, we have Klefk’ong, a Hieto world that has several locations leased to a corporation the committee runs. Or owns. Or is somehow involved with.”
“Maybe Zinqued could help us with that,” Barnabas suggested blandly.
Shinigami snorted. “Ask Carter’s niece and see what she says. Third, we have Gokrun III, which you’ll all remember as the place we nearly drowned while fighting a robot army. A lovely memory, and perhaps worth revisiting.”
“Speak for yourself,” Gar muttered. “One of those things gave me a bruise I can still feel.”
“Given the upgrades we gave you in the Pod-doc that’s physiologically impossible,” Shinigami informed him.
“I think he was making a joke,” Barnabas told her.
“Oh. Heh.” She returned to her presentation. “And last but not least, Jotuna D is the fourth moon of Jotuna, and it has some sort of secret base thing on it.”
“Is there a good path between them all?” Barnabas asked.
“Not so much, but given how fast I can travel…” She gave a self-satisfied little shrug.
Barnabas grinned. “I’m going to use your self-confidence as a barometer to tell whether you’ve been mind-wiped. If you’re insufferably pretentious, we can assume it’s you.”
“Careful, smart guy.” She gave him a smirk. “I don’t think you want to turn this into a list of everyone’s personality flaws.”
“Yes,” Tafa said severely. “Both of you, stop it. And I say we go to Gokrun III first.”
“Why?” Barnabas asked, his focus instantly shifting back to the matter of Jeltor.
“Because…” Tafa paused, apparently not having gotten all of her thoughts in order. “Right. First of all, I think they’re doing it on a planet they own. The Jotuns like to think they’re better than everyone else, and people like that want to flaunt it, but the committee has been very good about keeping things quiet. They’ll do it on a Jotun planet. That’s my guess, anyway.”
“All right,” Barnabas said. “And as to Jotuna D…”
“Too close to the planet,” Tafa shot back with a shrug. “It’s not a strong reason, I know, but anything that close is going to attract more traffic and suspicion, right?”
“Easier for senators to sneak away, though,” Gar said.
“That might attract attention in and of itself,” Shinigami pointed out. “I say we stop at Gokrun III first and then head on to the moon if we don’t find anything?”
“Then it’s settled,”
Barnabas said. “We should leave immediately, although…”
“Although?” Shinigami prompted after a moment.
“I have an idea,” Barnabas said with a slightly evil grin. “One moment.”
He brought up his computer and typed a message to Carter:
Carter,
I’m sorry for my unexpected departure. I hope I can make it up to you and Aliana. I’ll be back in Tethra soon (a week, maybe) to have some repairs done on the Shinigami, and hope Aliana will be there so we can have a longer discussion.
Barnabas
“We’re having repairs done?” Shinigami asked. “In Tethra?”
“Of course not,” Barnabas said, “but they’re going to think the ship will be grounded and vulnerable, not to mention they’ll think they can put on blue coveralls and just sneak inside. It’ll keep them all there while we track down the committee. If nothing else,” he added, “it should save their lives. Remember when they ended up directly between us and the Yennai missiles?”
“That’s a much better reason to bring them along,” Gar pointed out. “That saved our asses.”
“Good point, but we’re going to leave them here for now. Shinigami, are we underway?”
“Yes.” Shinigami stood up and stretched, an affectation she had seemingly picked up from Carter. “Anyone up for a round of sparring?”
Chapter Sixteen
As he had instructed it to do, Feword’s biosuit woke him in the middle of the night. A trickle of chemicals gradually brought him out of his sleep cycle and then pumped him up with a carefully mixed cocktail that would give him the energy of an adrenaline rush, but no shaking or nerves.
The suits of all the committee members and guards had similar mechanisms built in, meant to allow them to operate without error at unusual times. Rather than trusting the whims of a good night’s sleep, they could be alert and awake whenever the situation required it.
