The Vigilante Chronicles Omnibus

by Natalie Grey

  “But this may be one of the best places to steal the ship,” Zinqued said eagerly. “I was thinking—he almost certainly has clearance to leave at high speed without any checks, whereas on another planet, automated systems might kick in. But with this being a human planet…”

  “Yes, yes. Um.” Aliana sighed. “Look.”

  Zinqued gave her a shrewd look. “Are you quitting?”

  “I…yes.” Aliana swallowed. “I came here to see my uncle,” she explained. “And his wife is pregnant, and she’s having a really hard time, and he wants me to stay and help. I can’t just turn my back on him. He’s always been there for me.”

  “Ah.” Zinqued nodded. “I understand. And I think, perhaps, you are worried that this job might be impossible, eh?”

  “Okay, yes. Maybe. Given what I have heard, I don’t know how to steal the Shinigami. Barnabas seems like someone I wouldn’t want to mess with.”

  Zinqued, far from being annoyed, smiled broadly at her. “I know. He is a worthy competitor.”

  Tik’ta had come into the hallway, and she sighed at this latest pronouncement. “He’s not going to pull it off,” she said in a stage whisper. Her fondness for Zinqued was apparent, so Aliana smiled.

  “And as no payment has been given yet,” Zinqued said, looping an arm around Aliana’s shoulders as she went to her cabin, “no hard feelings, eh? We made a good profit on this run to High Tortuga.”

  “Thanks, Zinqued.” Aliana started packing, deeply relieved that he was being reasonable.

  “Of course…” Zinqued gave an elegant shrug. “You won’t be able to steal back your ship from here.”

  Aliana froze, a handful of socks halfway between her drawer and her duffel bag.

  “What was it, the Rayette?” Zinqued was staring into space as though he were trying to remember. Aliana hadn’t told him which ship it was, though, so he definitely knew. He’d done his research. “She’s a nice ship,” he said pleasantly. “And the captain, eh? Lawrence Jensen. Not a nice fellow, no. Not at all.”

  Aliana felt her blood pressure rising. The thought of Lawrence’s smug face always made her want to scream. “Yep,” she said, stuffing the socks in her bag and grabbing another handful. “He’s a real bastard.”

  Zinqued nodded. “But it’s nice here,” he said smoothly. “A pretty town, Tethra. Very quiet. Very pleasant.”

  Aliana narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Enough to make you forget all about your plans for revenge, I’d think,” Zinqued said. He smiled at her. “I wish you luck, Aliana Eastbourne. And come find us when you want a job, eh?”

  He left, and Aliana stared after him, her mind working furiously.

  High Tortuga was a nice place. It was nice enough to make her forget her plans for revenge. But now that Zinqued had warned her about that, she resolved not to let this place lull her into a false sense of security.

  And if Barnabas was coming back to High Tortuga…

  “Wait!” She popped her head out the doorway.

  Zinqued turned to look at her. “Yes?” he asked innocently.

  “Just so we’re clear,” Aliana said, “if I could get you the Shinigami—if I get a shot at it—you’d still help me with the Rayette?”

  “Why, yes.” Zinqued smiled. “Yes, we would.”

  Aliana nodded, her mind working double-time. “All right,” she said finally. “Yeah. Okay. Well, maybe you’ll hear from me, then.”

  Like hell, she was going to let Lawrence get away with what he’d done. If the Shinigami was the price for that, well…she’d pay it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “So, when we arrive at the planet, we’re going to do about three full orbits.” Barnabas brought up a holograph of Gokrun III with a strange path traced around it. “This will allow Shinigami to scan the entirety of the planet with a low margin for error.” Seeing Gar’s frown of confusion, he pointed out, “The last base we saw here was underground. We need to be close enough to make sure that we notice entryways with similar construction.”

  Gar nodded.

  “Once we know what we’re dealing with,” Barnabas said, “we can make a proper plan. In this case, speed is of the essence. We don’t know how long Jeltor has before he’s mind-wiped, so we have to go in immediately. Of course, somehow this mission requires both speed and stealth, which seems like a bad combination.”

  “Well,” Tafa pointed out, “to be entirely accurate, you only need them to think they’re not under attack, right? So we could try to con our way in.”

  “Yeah, but the Jotun we would usually use for that sort of con is the guy we’re rescuing,” Shinigami retorted.

  “Oh.” Tafa’s face fell. “Right. Forgot that.”

  “It’s a good point,” Barnabas said. “And that actually gives me an idea. Shinigami, we’ve been talking about taking out all of their automated defense measures and their scanners and so on… What if we just tricked them?”

  “Way ahead of you,” Shinigami said. “We’ll be doing both. When we captured the black ops ship on our last mission, I made sure to search through its communications banks. It had some protocols that I assume gave it passage through Jotun government systems, and I’ll be trying those out while I take out the scanners one by one.”

  “Safer is better.”

  “Of course, that’s assuming they aren’t hardwired to set off alarms if one of them goes out of contact,” Shinigami remarked contemplatively.

  Everyone gave her a worried look.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that, I’ll figure something out.” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms, and then sat up and snapped her fingers. “Aha! I’ll just learn the outgoing signal of each and teach the Shinigami to replicate it so that they don’t notice it’s gone.”

  “Clever,” Barnabas murmured. “What is it like to be able to do things like that?”

  “What is it like to be able to go up steps without tripping over your own feet?” Shinigami asked bitterly. “I can still only walk well if the surface is entirely flat.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” Barnabas assured her. The corner of his mouth was twitching.

  “So I’ll come out with you?” Gar asked.

  “Yes. You and Shinigami. We need all hands on deck unless this is a very small facility, and I’m guessing it’s not. If they’ve been studying multiple species, I’d guess there are a lot of different laboratories and…cages.”

  Everyone sank into silence for a moment. Gar looked like he might be sick, Shinigami looked furious, and Tafa looked—to Barnabas’ surprise—just as angry as Shinigami. He had guessed that the Yofu would be scared, but she didn’t look frightened.

  She looked like she wanted to kill the scientists with her bare hands.

  “Should I come, too?” she asked Barnabas. She was nervous but resolute. The offer was sincere. “I helped with the last mission, after all.”

  “You did, but, uh…” Barnabas fought his knee-jerk reaction to tell her no and considered the offer. “I have to think about that.”

  “Whether or not it’s a good idea depends on what kinds of security they have inside,” Shinigami explained. “And that is something we won’t know until we’re in there.” It’s not a good idea, she added privately to Barnabas.

  It worries me too, but I don’t want to reject the offer without really thinking about it.

  I think faster than you, and I’m telling you it’s a bad idea. She gave him a meaningful look across the room.

  If she wants to get involved—

  Then we see how she fares in a bar fight somewhere and go from there.

  Tabitha?

  Oh, good idea! We’ll have her tag along with Tabitha for a bit.

  No, that’s not what I—goddammit. Barnabas fought the urge to laugh. To Tafa, he said, “How about this? We’ll put you in some body armor that isn’t obvious, and you’ll wait on the ship. If the path to wherever we are going is clear and we think it’s just us against the scientists, you can come
along, okay?”

  She considered his words, and he saw that she wanted to argue. Thankfully, however, she seemed to remember her limitations. She nodded. “I don’t want to get anyone hurt. I just want to help if I can. It’s Jeltor.”

  Barnabas met her eyes and gave a nod. “I know. I feel helpless, too.”

  Tafa grumbled. “Yeah, but you get to kick the doors open and actually rescue him. What do I get to do?”

  “Sneak into the Jotun Senate buildings and steal a bunch of information,” Barnabas reminded her.

  “Oh.” She brightened considerably. “Yeah, I did do that.” She nudged Gar with one elbow. “I helped,” she said, very pleased with herself.

  Gar grinned back at her.

  I tell you, Shinigami commented, I hope those two kids wind up together.

  They…they aren’t the same species, Shinigami.

  So?

  Barnabas shook his head and rolled his eyes. No matter how ridiculous an idea was, once Shinigami committed to it there was no talking her out of it. He was pretty sure he could expect her to be offering little conversational hints in that direction for the next few weeks.

  He sighed and brought the meeting back on track. “So, Shinigami, Gar, and I will go out immediately. Tafa will stay on the ship and get it ready for Jeltor if he needs medical assistance, and she’ll join us if we need help.”

  Everybody nodded.

  “Approaching the planet now,” Shinigami reported. “And I want to remind everyone that we might not find anything.”

  “Let’s be ready in case we do,” Barnabas said firmly. “Everyone go get ready. Shinigami, tell us when you have likely candidates for landing spots.”

  Gil sighed as he stretched his tentacles to their fullest length and shook himself all over. He was exhausted. They had already been working every minute, skipping sleep and any breaks in order to get the experiments stabilized and the data out, and things had gotten harder when the new guards were assigned to them.

  He knew it could be far worse than it was. The guards didn’t suspect Gil’s and Wev’s true identity yet, after all. Gil had been suspicious about all of their questions, but they seemed to be genuine in their desire to help—not prying for secrets or poking into closets.

  No, they thought Gil and Wev were upset about their failure to break Jeltor, and they were trying to help. It would be sweet, really…if what they were talking about wasn’t destroying someone’s life and bringing down multiple outside governments.

  Gil shook himself. With the guards so close by, he had to stop himself from asking them why in the heavens they would support something like the committee. They seemed fully aware of the committee’s goals, and Gil could not think of any reason that a Jotun would want such things.

  Of course, that was not entirely true. He could understand that as the Etheric Empire shook nearby sectors, as other species rose and fell, anyone would want the safety and security of being undeniably in charge.

  But he would rather throw himself in a vat of acid than trust his safety to the committee.

  He came into the laboratory that housed Jeltor’s tank and saw Wev bent over the controls, fingers tapping furiously.

  Good morning, Gil said courteously.

  There was no answer.

  Wev?

  Wev straightened and turned to him, and Gil knew at once that something was terribly wrong. He hurried across the room to look into the tank.

  He’s not responding the way he should, Wev said as Gil joined him. The two of them peered into the tank together. I noticed that they were accessing the early morning tapes and they often liked to come by just after we started, so I’d been doing a low-acid solution in the mornings when I came in. But when I started it…

  Gil looked at the tank. Jeltor looked like he was blissfully asleep. Are you sure the tubes are working? Are you sure there’s acid in there?

  Very sure. Wev’s voice was sharp. You can put your tentacle in if you doubt me.

  Gil gave him a look. No, thank you. But if he’s not doing well…

  I don’t understand it. Wev thrashed in frustration. Yesterday, he was fine.

  It’s possible it was simply too much for him to take, Gil stated simply. He hesitated. It might be kinder to end it—and it would eliminate the possibility of him actually breaking.

  The two of them had discussed this before. In one sense, they were agreed—if it looked like conversion was imminent, and there was no other way to stop Jeltor from being released into the Navy like a ticking time bomb, they would kill him rather than allow him to be made a weapon.

  Gil, however, had been in favor of killing Jeltor immediately and claiming it had been an accident, while Wev had argued for leniency and time. The two of them disagreed rarely enough that Gil had decided to wait.

  Now, however, he was nervous enough to bring it up again.

  Wev ignored the suggestion. I don’t understand, he was muttering. What could possibly…

  He broke off and went to a bookshelf in the corner, where binders held overflowing research notes that had been mostly-neatly organized…and then removed, scanned, and replaced by Gil and Wev. They had also brought their own cameras to monitor what went on in the lab, fearing that one of the experiments might go wrong.

  Now the two of them watched the tapes from the night before—and saw Feword enter the laboratory.

  No, Wev whispered. What is he doing?

  I think it’s pretty clear what he’s doing.

  Not that! Wev rarely yelled either, and Gil was startled into silence. Wev turned to him, looking at Gil with his actual body rather than with the biosuit’s face. If he suspected us, he would kill us. So what is this? What is he doing?

  That was a very good question, and Gil did not have the answer. He considered, pacing back to the tank that held Jeltor. They had only ever done the barest hint of the protocol on Jeltor, unsure how successful the scientists’ procedure really was.

  It seemed that it was very successful. In only one nights’ work, Feword had nearly converted Jeltor.

  We have to end it, Gil told Wev.

  No! Wev was adamant.

  Wev, he’s a weapon, and he’s almost ready to be used.

  He deserves better than this. Wev stared Gil down. Why are we even doing this if we won’t help the people hurt by it?

  There were many answers Gil could give. He knew that. He could have said that letting Jeltor go free would hurt more people than it would help. He could have said that Wev had seen situations where nothing could be done, because that was true—they had been on site during numerous civilian uprisings on alien worlds, or disasters that had trapped people without any hope of them being saved.

  Sometimes people couldn’t be saved.

  But Wev’s tone shamed him to his core. Gil had grown cold as they had continued with this job. He had begun to make these decisions too easily.

  He did not like what that said about him. He nodded to Wev and sent something—not words, but an impression of his mind. Wev rippled soothingly.

  Do not blame yourself. Your intentions have always been good.

  Gil did not trust himself to speak for a long moment. He looked at where Jeltor floated in a haze.

  We have to have a plan, he said. And it has to be today, because one more night of this and there might be nothing we can do to bring him back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Well, here’s a problem we didn’t anticipate,” Shinigami announced, halfway into their second orbit of Gokrun III. She was halfway through dressing her body in armor, so she used her sensors to find Barnabas in his quarters. “I have eight potential landing sites.”

  “Ask Tafa to help you,” Barnabas suggested. “She has a good eye for these things.”

  “Oh, good idea.” Shinigami switched to a ship-wide channel. “Tafa, I need your help on the bridge.”

  “On my way!” Tafa called back. Shinigami felt her move from her quarters and into the hallways at a run.

  Shi
nigami smiled. Now that she had a body, she could actually express emotions in an action, and she had found that she enjoyed doing so.

  She continued to devote part of her attention to her armor as Tafa approached the bridge. It was blood-red, and although she had no trouble with uncomfortable or heavy armor the way a human might, she still appreciated that hers was sleek and well put together.

  Barnabas was right, she decided. Wearing well-tailored clothes was something that gave you confidence in your abilities. As much as she teased him, she had to admit that he had a good sense of style—something she did not yet have. She had been studying her memories of Gabrielle, Ekaterina, Tabitha, and Bethany Anne, and she had no idea how she wanted to present herself. Each of them managed to look stylish in very different clothes, which was a puzzle Shinigami could make neither heads nor tails of.

  On the bridge, the doors slid open for Tafa and Shinigami abandoned her musings on style. She projected a holograph of herself in the corner, already dressed in her armor, and gave an appreciative whistle at Tafa’s outfit. Though Tafa did not yet have a full suit of custom armor, she looked surprisingly confident and at ease in the lightweight black bulletproof clothing she was wearing.

  She smiled at Shinigami. “I am ready to help.”

  “Excellent.” Shinigami brought up the eight potential sites, each catalogued with scans and computer-generated reconstructions. “We have more than one potential landing site, and we thought you might help us narrow it down. You tend to see details the rest of us miss.”

  “Oh! Of course.” Tafa went to sit down and swung her head back and forth, looking at each picture out of one eye, then the other. “Hmm. I’d throw out site one. That honestly looks like the weird part of the energy signature is due to it having utility functions.”

  “It’s in the middle of a lake,” Shinigami protested. “That’s suspicious.”

  “This is a resort planet for Jotuns, remember? It’s probably doing something with the water and doubling as a strange hotel-thing.”

  “Ah, right.” Shinigami made that picture disappear.