by Natalie Grey
To Jeltor, he called, “Over here.”
Whoa, wait! Shinigami sounded angry. You’re not just killing Grisor?
Trust me.
She grumbled.
Jeltor turned and froze.
“Jeltor, you remember who you were,” Barnabas exclaimed desperately. This wasn’t like it had been with Catherine, he told himself. Catherine’s mind had been destroyed. Jeltor’s had merely been changed. It could be changed back.
Jeltor said nothing, keeping his arm leveled at Barnabas uncertainly. He could not shoot at Grisor; it went against all his programming, and that programming went deep.
Please, Barnabas whispered to Jeltor. He did not know if Jeltor could hear him anymore, but he had to try. This isn’t you.
And then his ear caught the very faint sound of the door opening. It was meant to be silent, but Barnabas wasn’t a normal being, and he had already nearly been killed by that same trick today. He whirled, his Jean Dukes coming up as he fired three times. The sound of shots from nearby told him that Shinigami and Gar had done the same thing.
It was the last guard from the laboratory, staggering back with his suit shattered. For a moment, Barnabas could feel the Jotun’s rage for his lost team members, and there was an unexpected wave of sympathy—
The splashing behind him told him to refocus his attention. He whirled, and found Jeltor ushering Grisor to safety.
“Jeltor! Think about this! Think! Think for yourself!” Barnabas could hear the terror in his own words. “Remember who you are, not who they told you to be.”
“Stay away.” Jeltor pointed his gun at Barnabas.
“Shoot him!” Grisor yelled.
Barnabas did the only thing he could think of. He put his hands up and looked at Jeltor through the wall of the tank. “Jeltor, it’s me. I don’t want to hurt you. I won’t hurt you.”
“Jeltor, shoot him!”
Jeltor stood frozen, indecision plain on his features. Then, with a shriek of anguish, he fired. He turned and pushed Grisor through a hidden door, moving more quickly than Barnabas would have believed possible.
“Jeltor!”
But Jeltor was gone, doors slamming closed across the base.
Shinigami had used her scanners, and now she said gravely, We’re not getting in there—and there are guards mobilizing.
But we have to—
We’ll come back for him. Barnabas, he… Her voice trailed off. When Barnabas looked up, she was staring at him, clearly hating what she was saying.
He fired, Gar said, but he didn’t shoot to kill. He didn’t even shoot to wound.
He’s still in there. Barnabas took two steps toward the door.
And he chose Grisor—for now. Barnabas, remember what you told him: his view of the Jotuns didn’t survive reality. You have to trust that it will happen again.
When he said nothing, Shinigami added softly, You told me I could call the shots on this one when I needed to. I need to now. We’ll get him back, but this isn’t the way.
Barnabas closed his eyes, dropping his head into one hand for a moment before he nodded. He went up the stairs wordlessly with the sound of the Shinigami’s engines coming closer and the distant sounds of gunfire.
“Where’s Gilwar?” he asked.
Shinigami pointed. On the open gangway of the Shinigami, Gilwar was waiting to help them aboard. Barnabas ushered Gar and Shinigami ahead of him and then leapt aboard himself, running down the slope of the gangway as it closed.
“Good to see you safe,” he told Gilwar.
“And you,” Gilwar said. “I saw what happened.” His face might not hold expressions, but the meaning could not be mistaken: it happened, you didn’t imagine it.
“We’re going to get him back,” Barnabas told all of them. “We’re going to get him back, and we’re going to give Justice to those they’ve hurt.”
“You promised Grisor a painless death,” Shinigami said. She did not sound disapproving, only interested. “Was it a lie?”
“It wasn’t a lie.” Barnabas met her eyes. “If he had agreed and returned Jeltor to me, I would have done it. It wouldn’t have sat easily with me, but for the sake of the Jotun people, I could have done it. I wouldn’t have offered if I couldn’t, not with honor at stake.”
Shinigami was beginning to smile. “But?”
Barnabas smiled back and felt the coldness of it down to his bones.
“But he didn’t take the offer, did he?”
Epilogue
The station they stopped at was so small that it wasn’t even named, but Barnabas’ golden rule still held true: it didn’t matter how far you went or how remote you were, if there were multiple people living there and others passing through, there was going to be a bar.
Barnabas held up his glass, and the others followed suit—with the exception of Gilwar, of course, who held up an empty hand.
“To Jeltor,” Barnabas said softly. “To our friend, who is still inside. Who can be brought back.”
Shinigami lifted the liquid to her lips. While she couldn’t technically take sustenance from substances, she could ingest them and analyze them. She stopped when Barnabas shook his head slightly.
“I wasn’t quite finished. To my friends, who look out for each other. Who go into danger without complaint because there are those who depend on them…and who speak the truth to me when I need to hear it.” He held his glass out to clink it against each of theirs and tap it against Gilwar’s fingers, and then he drank. “This stuff is truly vile.”
“I’m not sure it’s meant to be ingestible,” Shinigami said doubtfully, staring down into the glass. “The chemical composition is remarkably close to poison.”
“Alcohol is poison,” Gar informed her cheerfully. “Drink up.”
Shinigami laughed and clinked glasses with him, and Barnabas sat back to watch the four of them as they spoke and laughed. Gilwar was discussing the layout of senatorial compounds with Tafa, and Gar and Shinigami were having a drinking contest—slightly unfair, in Barnabas’ opinion. The rest of the bar was oblivious to his group.
He looked down into his cup with a small smile.
Hey, boss. Shinigami caught his eye when he looked up.
Where’s Gar?
Getting another round. She smiled. What are you thinking about?
Chess. Barnabas saw her smile and shook his head. Not…like that. He sighed as he looked around, then leaned on the table and considered. Chess is supposed to teach you tactics, but chess pieces don’t have souls or lives—or families. You never have to worry about your opponent’s pawns, just about killing their king.
Shinigami said nothing, watching him quietly.
I promised Grisor I would let this be forgotten because part of me thinks it’s the right thing to do, Barnabas said. The Jotun people had nothing to do with this. They don’t deserve to suffer for it if someone tries to turn it into a war.
But?
But smoothing it over and pretending it never happened means it might happen again. Barnabas took a gulp of his drink and choked. I forgot I shouldn’t be drinking that.
Shinigami grinned as she pounded him on the back. Breathe, she advised. Right, good. Now drink the rest while you’re still numb. Now, now, now!
Barnabas downed the rest of it and made a pained whimpering noise. Oh, God, that was disgusting. It hurts. I regret drinking that. Why did I listen to you?
Because it’s fun. I told Gar to get you a drink, too. She nodded to where Gar was making his way back from the bar with three drinks. Come on, let’s get soused and sing embarrassing songs about honor and friendship.
Barnabas laughed. Beyond this station was a committee hellbent on destruction, with a pawn they had brainwashed into helping them. There was a war brewing that could destroy most of the sector if he let it.
He didn’t intend to let it.
But before he stopped it, he would let his team relax a bit. He took a glass from Gar, reminded himself that pain was an excellent teacher, a
nd drank it in one go. When Shinigami and Gar finished their drinks, Barnabas was laughing.
“What?” Gar was already loopy.
“Pain is an excellent teacher,” Barnabas got out between whoops of laughter. “It’s supposed to teach you not to do things, though.”
“What’s your point?” Shinigami raised an eyebrow.
“My point is that we’re being remarkably stupid, and I’m quite enjoying it.” Barnabas stood. He caught a flicker out of the corner of his eye and looked out into the hallway, but saw nothing. Shaking his head to clear it, he picked up the empty glasses with a smile. “Next round’s on me.”
Aliana turned the corner and kept walking, her heart pounding. He’d almost seen her; she was sure of it. It was like he’d felt her watching him.
She supposed he was the one who’d looked over, not the one with the double-pupiled eyes or the woman. Carter had said she was an AI. Both of those people frightened her a little. Barnabas, though…
She shook her head slightly.
“Aliana.” Zinqued was waiting at the ship, his arms spread wide. “You took a while getting here. I thought you might not be coming.”
“And I hoped you wouldn’t,” Tik’ta agreed, but Aliana heard fondness in her tone.
“You did get my message, right?” Aliana frowned at them. “I don’t think it can be done. I don’t think the Shinigami can be stolen—and I’m not sure I want to. The things he’s doing are important.”
“He’ll do them either way,” Zinqued said confidently. “And you’ll find a way to steal the ship. I’m sure of it.” He stepped back and held out an arm, welcoming her onto the ship. “I’m curious, though. What made you decide to come back?”
“I’m also curious,” Tik’ta chimed in as she followed them.
Aliana paused inside the ship, deciding how much to say.
“I thought I could run away from my problems,” she said finally. “That mistakes could just be forgotten, and I could rely on someone else to pick me up and dust me off. But I can’t. Until I’ve gotten even with Lawrence and made him pay for what he did, I can’t forget it. It will eat at me.”
She ducked her head and made for her cabin before they could ask her anything more. She didn’t want to answer their questions any more than she wanted to answer her uncle’s. He had sent her a worried message after she left, and she still had not responded.
Now, though, she slumped onto the tiny cot and typed out a brief reply: I need to do this. Tell Elisa and the kids I love them. I miss you guys already.
She did, after all. She missed the creaky apartment over the bar. She missed the bar. She missed Carter and Elisa and the twins. She even missed the new baby, although she hadn’t met it yet.
But she didn’t belong there. She never had, even though Carter had wanted her to stay. She still hadn’t gotten her life together—and she was determined not to be anyone’s charity case. She wiped the tears off her cheeks, lifted her chin, and set about unpacking.
She was going to make Lawrence pay.
Cries of pain echoed off the walls as Grisor paced.
Six guards had been lost, not to mention the laboratory, the data, and the robotic army Biset had foolishly sacrificed—ah, yes, and the remnants of the Yennai fleet. It was good for Biset’s sake that he was dead. Grisor would not have given him as quick and clean a death as Barnabas had.
Now…
Now there was very little time.
Grisor went to the door and stared into the tank. Jeltor should have obeyed him at once when ordered to shoot. It was troubling that he had not, and without the research team to innovate, Grisor was not certain if any modifications should be made to the program.
He resolved not to think of those issues just yet. If it worked, he would only have wasted his time. If it did not work, then he would worry.
In the meantime, he strode to a screen and brought up a sector map. His fingers hovered over a few of the shining dots as he considered. They had to begin their plan now. Once the admirals were converted—and they would be—they must be ready to swing into action at once.
Which alien race to bring into the fold first? That was the only question.
Grisor’s fingers hovered for a moment longer, then tapped a binary star system. The planet that came up on the screen was a mix of lush vegetation and wasteland. It was battered by storms, famously harsh, and the aliens it had produced were almost as terrifying.
Yes. The Brakalons would be a good first addition to the committee’s forces.
FINIS
Author Notes - Natalie Grey
October 31, 2018
Thank you for following Barnabas’s story! I don’t know if anyone’s let you in on this secret yet, but writing a series is often just as surprising as reading one. We know some of what’s coming down the pike, of course, but seeing it unfold is a revelation every time. Even though I already begin each series with anticipation, looking forward to spending all that time with the characters, that is nothing compared to how much I care for them by the end of the series.
We’ve seen Barnabas come farther than I think he would have thought possible, from someone who still had not processed his grief about Catherine, to someone who is willing to rely on his friends. Shinigami’s evolution has been just as surprising to her. Humans are definitely a force of chaos!
As always, I want to thank Michael, first and foremost, for bringing me on board and letting me work with him on this series. I loved Barnabas since he first showed up and was so lucky to get to be a part of this story! My beta readers, both the JIT group and the crew who bravely take the bullet of looking at my rough drafts, have been amazing as well, as has the editorial and administrative team that makes LMBPN run so smoothly! Thanks to Craig, also, for allowing Bustamove in for a cameo.
To the readers - I love your energy, your passion for this universe, and the way you support all of us involved in the KGU. Thank you so, so, so much. There’s more Barnabas on the way, but I know how much you all read! If you’re looking for something new in the meantime, I suggest The Dragon Corps (seven books and counting!) and Bound Sorcery (the fourth book in the Shadows of Magic series will be out soon).
Last but not least, I want to thank my own adorable ball of chaos, L, who is teaching me so much every day about how to appreciate everything I have, and how to see the world with new eyes.
Until next time,
Nat
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
October 31, 2018
THANK YOU for not only reading this story, but these author notes as well .
RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?
I know, this is a really random thought that without context (which is too personal to share) remember that family and friends might not be ignoring you. They might just have busy lives and while you are important, it slipped their mind as they have had to deal with the here and now for too long..
They love you. Just pick up the phone and chat with them sometime.
(Barring that support – pick up and read another LMBPN book – it might not help a relationship, but at least it should be fun.)
HOW TO MARKET FOR BOOKS YOU LOVE
We are able to support our efforts with you reading our books and we appreciate you doing this!
If you enjoyed this or ANY book by any author, especially Indie published, we always appreciate if you make the time to review a book, as it lets other readers who might be on the fence to take a chance on it as well.
AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS (rather, where am I writing these and what is going on?)
One of the interesting (at least for me) aspects of my life is the ability to work from anywhere and at anytime. In the future, I hope to re-read my own author notes and remember my life as a diary entry.
For these author notes I am sitting in the London Hotel – West Hollywood which is one block (barely) away from the Whisky a Go-Go club for concerts.
My ears are ringing which is a common occurrence when you listen to m
usic too loud for too long. My younger brother (well, he is 42) and I went to go see the band Stryper who was playing at the Whisky on Halloween night and I have to say, it was a blast.
I’ve followed this band since high school, and I have probably seen them play in concert about seven times in my life.
I say about because time for me is murky. I can dream up new stuff into the future all day long. Ask me what I had for lunch last Wednesday (or how many times I have seen a band play over the last 35 or so years) and I’m a bit vague on that information.
For making a business run on fictional stories, this forward looking creative brain is a superpower. For helping me to remember important events which need to be celebrated with certain people? It is a millstone around my neck.
Normally, I celebrate my brain. When I’m in the relationship doghouse, not so much.
FAN PRICING
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Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
Protector
Vigilante Chronicles Book 7
Chapter One
“We’re close!” Kelnamon scrambled up the rocky incline and took a deep breath of fresh air. Happiness was brimming in his chest, and he could not keep back his smile—or the tears that were gathering in his eyes. He had come out here twice since he’d returned, but walking on his homeworld again was still unusual enough to provoke strong emotions in him.
It had been years since he had seen the gray and ochre rocks of Kordinev, his homeworld. He had spent eight of those serving on one of the big cargo freighters, saving up for the ship he now owned—the Srisa. He’d been its captain for over a decade now.
