by Natalie Grey
I was not brainwashed, she told her opponent. I was freed. I was given clarity to accept my own thoughts on the matter.
Oh? said a new voice, one that was much more familiar. I thought the same once, Yeneda. But those thoughts—the thoughts that we were superior—they were thoughts I had already rejected, and I rejected them again.
Traitor. Admiral Jeqwar listened to the words coming from her mind and felt a strange sense of dislocation. She had never been one to spit insults at people, and yet, here she was. She meant the insults, too. It felt good to say them. Jeltor was a traitor; he had turned his back on Qarwit and Grisor.
Unfortunately, he also knew her well.
It isn’t like you to say something like that, he observed. Yeneda. I remember how this feels, how uncomplicated it feels to love the Committee and hate who they hate. But it doesn’t sit right in your mind, does it? You know it’s false. It feels wrong.
Frozen in her tank, Admiral Jeqwar missed a round of missiles, and her captains had to seize control of their ships to get out of the way in time.
“What’s going on?” Senator Torsen hissed.
“There’s a signal, and they’ve gotten it into her tank.” One of the communications officers was stabbing keys desperately. “As soon as she started communicating, I found it, but I can’t shut it down. I’m doing everything, I swear.”
Senator Torsen snarled in fury, but she knew better than to make an example of the people who were working to interrupt this. She paced a few steps, then swung around to look at the commanders clustered around the battle table.
“Find out where that signal is coming from.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re working on it.”
“You’re ‘working on it?’” she asked dangerously.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s moving very quickly, as we know the Shinigami is capable of doing. They’re moving and bouncing the signal off the Brakalon ships.”
Senator Torsen considered this. “Send in a squadron of fighters. Take. Them. Out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As the fighters accelerated into the black, Shinigami snickered to herself. Then, the sleek form of her ship lying flat in a shadowed groove atop the Jotun flagship, she continued her work of opening one of the exterior hatches for Jeltor, Gilwar, and Ferqar to sneak aboard.
As the hatch opened silently, Shinigami caught another command: “And land the strike teams.”
Barnabas.
Hmm?
You’re a go. Strike teams are leaving. I’ll keep you all updated on their trajectories.
Thank you.
This senator is practically shitting herself, by the way. Almost no one knows that this is a fake mission, and she can’t afford to let them find out. Don’t worry, I’m taping it. We can have some popcorn and watch the highlights reel later.
So good of you to keep me in mind.
Don’t be snide. This is comedy gold right here.
Chapter Thirty-One
“General.” Barnabas activated the communications unit in the Pod, which had been tied into the Brakalon network. Shinigami had stress-tested it and rigged it to shut down if there was even a possibility the line was being tapped. “The strike teams are on their way. My Pod will intercept automatically, and I will keep you apprised of locations.”
“Understood.” General Vidrelor’s voice was calm. “I envy you, you know,” he added.
A piece of the puzzle snapped into place and Barnabas smiled. Part of General Vidrelor’s ill-temper, it seemed, had been because he was jealous that Barnabas would be in the thick of things and he would not.
Barnabas approved of that. He had no use for military leaders who were afraid to get their hands dirty.
All he said was, “Do Brakalons speak of tempting fate, General? You may get your chance.”
The general rang off with a good-natured laugh that said he would not be sad to do so, and Barnabas smiled in anticipation as the Pod began to move.
Two strike teams, Shinigami reported. Verified by my scanners, the Brakalon scanners, and what the bridge crew is tracking. They’re going to the two sites where the top-level officials were quartered. It appears they are not sure what happened there. Our cutoff worked.
It’s going to be pretty obvious when they get there, Barnabas responded wryly. But we’ll pin them down and take them out before they can go wreak havoc anywhere else. Which team should we go to?
The heavier team is heading for the military site. They seem to be assuming that a military leader would be more able to launch a defense if necessary.
Solid thinking. Too bad they’re behind the curve.
Yeah, couldn’t have happened to nicer people.
Barnabas smiled and relayed Shinigami’s words, telling the Brakalons that he and Gar were heading to the military site. Gar was elated, while Tafa frowned and fidgeted.
“Next battle, you’ll get to participate,” Barnabas told her.
“I’m not worried about that. What if someone senses Grisor?” She looked worried. “What if he manages to create problems?”
“Ah.” Barnabas held up one finger. Shinigami, could you project an image of Grisor’s cell into the Pod for Tafa?
Sure? Shinigami’s doubtful tone aside, she did so with alacrity. There you go.
Thanks. “See?” Barnabas said to Tafa. “Entirely cut off from any signals and still trapped.”
“Aren’t we going to…use him somehow?” Gar asked doubtfully. “I’m with Tafa on this one.”
Barnabas gave an evil smile and sat back, stretching out his legs. “Actually, I had a rather different idea. We don’t need him to head off this plan, at least not yet, and it’s driving him crazy to be held captive and not even be interrogated. He doesn’t have a self-destruct on his suit, and he’s a coward about death. He made sure everyone else had them, but he doesn’t, so he has no way to get out of this. And once the battle’s over?” His smile was very cold. “I’ll go down and tell him about it. Tell him that while he was rotting in that cell, the Committee fell to pieces and he had no idea it was even happening. Then I’ll take him back for his trial.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then Gar whistled. “You’re cold.”
“I learned from the best.” Barnabas grinned as he thought of Bethany Anne.
Barnabas, you’re arriving at the site. You’ve beaten the strike team. I suggest hiding behind the bunker. All of the decoys are in place to draw them in.
Good, Barnabas said. The decoys had been a rather ingenious Brakalon idea that they had perfected with Ferqar’s help. They would emit signals indicating that the lost data showing what had happened at these sites could be found inside the bunker.
The Pod let Barnabas and Gar out, and both of them smiled at Tafa before leaving. She waved at them bravely, but Barnabas could see she was worried for them. Then the Pod shot back into the sky, invisible to the naked eye and Jotun scanners.
Barnabas and Gar hid behind the bunker, settling a large cloak of stiff fabric over them that confused most scanning technology and hid their biosignatures.
Not long now, Barnabas thought, and he felt the familiar rush of anticipation. He had fought the Committee for so long from the shadows. He was glad to be fighting them out in the open at last.
He jumped when something rustled nearby, then started laughing.
“Hello,” Kelnamon greeted him. “They said that after my service and injuries I couldn’t be allowed to fight in this battle. Didn’t matter that I told them you’d patched me up, so I picked a place I was pretty sure would see some action, and here I am.”
“Glad to have you.” Barnabas clasped his hand in greeting. “Couldn’t ask for a better fighter at my side.”
Captain Qrevar of Strike Team 4 was a sturdy, thick-bodied Jotun who wielded his biosuit like a tank, always ready to charge into the action headlong rather than hide away and snipe at his enemies.
In his years doing various black ops work for both the Senate and the Navy he’d
learned a healthy dose of respect for the fighting capabilities of various species, but he had never lost his conviction that the Jotuns were superior to all others. After all, the Jotuns could adapt themselves to any environment or opponent, their grasp of technology was incredible, and they were, of course, more intelligent than other species.
That was just fact. People could deny it, but they knew they were lying. He was confident.
“Get ready,” he barked at his team. He did not tolerate sloppiness or emotion on the battlefield, and some of them seemed shaken by the first images they were seeing of the other bunker. The scattered Jotun bodies there had been Team 2, and the teams had fought together. “We’re going to extract every piece of information we can from this bunker and go find their leaders. Speed is of the essence. You want to cry, you can quit right now. We’ll be better off without you.”
Everyone readied their weapons without a word. When their shuttle touched down, they were leaping out before it had stopped and charging into the bunker on heavy, mechanized legs.
“Spread out!” Qrevar ordered. He was heading up the rear as they went into the darkness, so he was poised to advance in the first wave.
Or that had been the plan.
There was a faint hint of motion behind him, and he swiveled sharply in his tank but saw nothing. He sent out a brief pulse of scanning, sensed no life forms, and sighed internally. He was being superstitious. The building had been heavily damaged by the bombing; of course, it was creaking oddly.
He swiveled back around and shot backward to slam against the wall of the tank in shock.
His biosuit’s sensors had not picked up the alien, but there it was, staring at him with its head tilted to the side as other species did to indicate curiosity.
And its eyes were glowing red.
“Hello,” it said pleasantly.
Qrevar’s arm was already coming up out of sheer instinct, rifle primed and loaded, but he felt the stab of pain a moment later, haptic controls embedded in his suit and telling him that the connections were being severed one by one. His body went rigid, unsure of the input he was sending it, then thudded to the ground when the power went out.
Qrevar was still floating helplessly in the tank as a Luvendi stepped over his body and disappeared into the darkness without another glance—heading for Qrevar’s team, none of whom knew that there were enemies inside the bunker.
The captain was taken out quickly and efficiently, and Barnabas and Gar continued into the darkness silently, Kelnamon leading the way like a giant, hulking shadow.
Ahead of them, the Jotun strike team was calling to one another as they spread out. They weren’t being sloppy, which Barnabas appreciated—but their loyalty was in a very unfortunate place, and he could not let that go unpunished.
At the opening of the main cavern, he gave Gar and Kelnamon a nod and disappeared into the rafters, leaping lightly and climbing his way up. He had communicated his plan to them while the strike team was landing.
That plan was shock and awe. The Jotun might have heard of Barnabas before, but it was almost certain that they considered stories of his exploits to be overblown.
They were about to learn how wrong they were.
Barnabas waited until one group had advanced to the center of the room, checking the main command desk for clues, and then he activated the first line of defense. Around the room, what had looked like inert and destroyed turrets came to life in jerky motion, swinging themselves to their spidery feet and each locking on a target: one of the Jotun soldiers
Which was when Barnabas dropped out of the ceiling onto the team below.
He hit the desk with a thud that spread a crack all through it and looked up, baring his teeth at them. They weren’t human, not born of Earth, but some things were universal, and one of those universal things was a fear of sharp, pointy claws and teeth. Given two shocks in a row, the team froze for one critical, deadly moment.
A moment, of course, was all Barnabas needed. He swung into action at once, grabbing the closest Jotun and flipping it over his head to bring it crashing down on the corner of the table. The tank in its biosuit cracked and was partially dislodged, and he picked it up to slam it down again before ripping one of the legs and one of the arms off, doing the same with the head, and flinging all of the pieces in opposite directions. He bared his teeth at the other three in the group and hissed.
Around the edges of the room, the other soldiers had been pinned by the turrets. The laser sights made it clear that if they fired they would be picked off one by one. Still, in an admirable display of loyalty, they tried.
They failed on two counts. First, because the turrets truly were an outstanding piece of technology, and Shinigami had easily been able to reprogram them; and second, because they had failed to realize that Gar and Kelnamon were also in the room.
The turrets and the other members of the team set to work methodically, working their way through the Jotun strike team as holo of the event was beamed back to the Jotun fleet.
Meanwhile, in the middle of the room, Barnabas dodged the strikes and weapons of the Jotun team as they launched themselves at him in a fury.
The Jotun strike teams were well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, but none of them came close to matching Barnabas. The Jotuns tended to rely on their technology, using reaction time and brute strength to overpower their foes.
Their tactics were weak, and Barnabas was easily able to exploit them. One after the other, he punched through their tanks, ripped off their limbs, and destroyed both the suit and the Jotun within.
When it was over, and the room was finally silent, he looked up to where the cameras were observing.
“You spent so much time thinking you were superior,” he told the Jotun, “that you never even bothered to check if you were right. And you were wrong.”
That got their goat, I’ll tell ya. Shinigami was chortling in Barnabas’ mind. They’re pissed as hell.
Good. Any progress on your mission?
Coming along. She sounded a bit worried now. I’ll let you know, however we end up having to do this. There’s a small chance we may just initiate the pod ejection into space for her tank and snatch her that way.
Mmm. Let me know.
On Jotuna D, Qarwit paced and threw glances at the screen in increasing worry.
This wasn’t how this was supposed to be unfolding. The strike teams had been used dozens of times in his memory, and he had seen them in action. They were unstoppable, a deadly force that infiltrated, found intel, and spread outwards until all targets had been eliminated.
And now two of his teams had easily been wiped out. Not only that, the Brakalons had a damned fleet.
He sensed the other Committee members watching him, judging him, and he drew himself up.
“One strike team is nothing,” he said dismissively. “And if the Brakalons have anyone as good as Admiral Jeqwar, I’ll eat my biosuit.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Jotun fighters wove through the Brakalon fleet at top speed, splitting to arc over and under the enemy ships, coalescing and bunching like birds in flight. They had to avoid not only the Brakalon turrets aboard the ships but also their own missiles, which were hurtling toward the Brakalon fleet at unpredictable intervals.
There had been some disturbance aboard the flagship. They were aware of that, but firing had resumed and they were not going to waste their time wondering what was going on.
They had dangerous quarry to catch, after all: the Shinigami, elegant and maneuverable, not to mention absolutely deadly. Many of the pilots here had been part of the confrontation with the Yennai fleet weeks ago, and they had seen the Shinigami then.
It wasn’t clear to them why the Shinigami had been their ally in that fight, only to become their enemy now, but there was broad support for the admiral. Unlike many who rose high, she had earned her place with brilliant tactics and a breathtaking command of the entire fleet.
If she said that the Brakalons
and the Shinigami were their enemies, the pilots were not going to question her.
The thing was…
“Blue Leader to flagship,” Captain Horutan radioed back finally.
There was a pause.
“Yes?” The communications officer sounded somewhat harried.
“Are you sure the Shinigami is over here?” Horutan asked.
“Yes. That’s where the signal is coming from. Why?”
“Because we should have seen it by now,” Horutan insisted. She calibrated her scanners for the eighth time. “If not on our scanners, then with the naked eye. And we can’t find them anywhere.”
A new voice came over the line, snapping at them furiously:
“This is Senator Torsen. You find that ship and you take it out now, do you understand? They are trying to attack the admiral!”
What that meant, Horutan did not know—nor did she understand why there was a senator on board the flagship. But a threat to the admiral was something she took very seriously.
“Blue team, spread out,” she instructed. “They’re trying to hurt the admiral, and we’re not going to let them.”
There was a round of wholehearted agreement. No one was going to touch the admiral. They would make sure of it.
“This is dangerous,” Jeltor murmured to Gilwar as they strode down the corridors. “I shouldn’t have come. Too many of them know me by sight.”
“Anyone who knows you is likely to be an ally,” Gilwar pointed out. “We have video evidence of what the Committee has done, and they’ll know something happened to you.”
“If they sound an alarm, though…” Jeltor was worried. “They’re good sailors. They don’t deserve to die for the Committee.”
“That’s why we’re sticking to side corridors,” Gilwar told him soothingly. “I can incapacitate them if I need to. We just need to be able to drag them into a corner if necessary without too many people seeing.” He looked at Jeltor. “I think you’ve waited long enough, by the way. Try again.”
