Galactic Vigilante (Vigilante Series 3)

by King, T. Jackson

  “Firing at them with the left wing AM cannons,” he said even as he felt BattleMind’s rage mount at what it saw as the ‘impudence’ of any organic lifeform who dared to attack a T’Chak starship.

  Three black lines of coherent antimatter sped back toward the battleglobe.

  In Matt’s mind he saw, via tachlink from a Remote close by the position of the Nova, that the battleglobe was moving off the vector it had when it fired at them. Would his AM beams strike true, or miss the Nova?

  Two seconds, 732 milliseconds.

  The image of a planet reduced to a raging star inferno amidst red, blue, yellow and white background stars shifted to a current image of the battleglobe.

  “Matt!” called Mata Hari. “It’s wounded badly!”

  “Yes,” he mind imaged his reply. “Seems we hit it with at least two AM beams.”

  In his mind, the Anarchate battleglobe spouted a blue-white gout of pure matter-to-energy conversion on its southern hemisphere and at its equatorial right side limb. Red clouds of vaporized metal were pushed out by the gamma rays created by the blast. Into the three kilometer deep holes in the battleglobe there now struck neutral particle beam lasers from Mata Hari that were unaffected by the globe’s magnetic deflection fields. Proton, excimer and HF beams struck against the thick armor of the battleglobe, digging deep into the armor, but not harming the inner habitat zone. So far. Elsewhere on the globe its adaptive optics coating deflected back much of Matt’s incoming laser fire, even as debris and gases exited from the two AM craters on its hull. The northern hemisphere still had plenty of power. It fired antimatter beams at each of Matt’s three decoy Remotes, vaporizing them before they could dodge away. The battleglobe began to tilt its northern hemisphere toward Matt and Dreadnought Mata Hari. He mentally activated a recording he had made earlier, choosing not to leave ocean-time and thereby lose his cyborg time-speed advantage.

  “Captain, we will be gone by the time you receive this. We are the Dreadnought Mata Hari. We are at war with your Anarchate masters. Your galactic tachnet node installation on the former planet two of this system is now removed. Along with the planet.” Matt smiled into the vid transmitter. “Such will be the fate of any Anarchate installation that sustains the existence of cloneslavery and indentured bondservitude. End these two practices and perhaps I will allow the Council of Sixteen to remain intact. Continue them and every Anarchate facility in this galaxy will be a target of my ship and my ship allies. Goodbye.”

  With a PET thought-image he moved starship Mata Hari, BattleMind, his partner Mata Hari and himself into Translation. But should he head for the Sector 14 Intelligence HQ near the Crab Nebula, or for the distant space of Morrigan, deep within the Kappa Crucis cluster or ‘Jewel Box’ as some called it? Sector HQ lay in the opposite direction from Morrigan. Both would take two weeks or more using Alcubierre drive to reach them. Well, he would put that decision off for a few light years so he could materialize in deep space far from any inhabited star. He mindspoke his decision to Mata Hari, who would pick an appropriate spot for ruminations.

  “Got it, Matthew,” she said. “We will exit into deep space within an hour, far from any star system.”

  “Thanks!”

  The he smiled at how much his message would upset Commander Chai, High Captain Yorkel, the wounded battleglobe’s captain and the infamous Council of Sixteen who sat at the top of the Anarchate’s hierarchy of oppression. If he was lucky, they might worry that his Sun Glow weapon would turn the planet of Central Nexus into charged stellar particles.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Where is this Human?” rumbled High Commander Brrzeet, the being who held Chai’s life within his scaly forearms. “It has been a Belizel week since his attacks on 18 Scorpii and 51 Pegasi. The students at the software academy saw the bright light from the destruction of our galactic tachnet node. They talk. Others talk. The Council of Sixteen does not talk. They demand results. Now.”

  Chai considered offering a Clap of Obedience, as one would offer a senior Spelidon. But this four-legged, four-eyed monstrosity that was his boss did not even eat meat, like most intelligent species. How it came to rule Sector 14 Intelligence near the Cloud of Warning supernova nebula he had no idea. But satisfying it was the only way to preserve his lifeforce. “Traveling to the Cloud of Warning vicinity, your eminence. It takes slightly more than two Belizel weeks for one to travel from 51 Pegasi to this location.”

  The Orko’s four yellow eyes squinted at him and its four block legs shifted, its foot pads thudding on the bare metal of Command Node. “If true, why are your genome slaver starships not here with their captives? What of your plan to set a trap?”

  Chai swallowed nervously. In truth he had no idea where the Human was. Only that it had not attacked anywhere in the galaxy. Yet. “I have sent for them. It will take time for them to arrive. Some come from the far side of the galaxy. Some from Norma Arm. Most who worked in Orion and Sagittarius Arms died in the Alkalurops attack.”

  “Excuses,” muttered Brrzeet. “Sector Captain Yorkel has taken command of forty battleglobes at Polaris B and is prepared to pursue this Human wherever he may appear. You do not seem as useful.”

  A chill raised the fur over every bit of his body. Chai knew that only those who proved useful to Brrzeet avoided being invited to breath vacuum. “Facts. Of the five target predictions my group made, one, the Alkalurops system, proved to be the Human’s next target.”

  “That was then,” Brrzeet said, moving slowly forward to stand before its control pedestal. It waved a thick forearm. “Where is he now? Or rather, where will he be so that High Captain Yorkel may fight him?”

  Chai dismissed repeating the threat of an attack on Sector 14 Intelligence. This Human had attacked where he had no past history or link, apparently to prove his unpredictability. Well, the five target predictions were all he had. “The Halicene shipyard at Upsilon Carinae B star system, High Commander. The asteroid belt that surrounds the blue-white giant star is well-known among all conglomerates as designing the best MotherShips that can be made. Outside of our own shipyards, of course.”

  The four eyes of the Orko quadruped blinked slowly. He crossed forearms over his scaled chest. His armored hide glowed dark brown under the ceiling lights. “So you advise me to send Yorkel to Upsilon Carinae B, there to wait until the Human arrives?”

  Chai’s mouth felt dry. As dry as the desert lands that occupied too much of the Spelidon homeworld. “I do not advise. Your decision must be based on your wisdom, High Commander. But in view of the single ship attacks at 18 Scorpii and 51 Pegasi, I suspect his fleet of seven ships will next attack there, at Upsilon Carinae B. They could do much damage in a small amount of time.”

  Brrzeet flapped his long scaly ears. “I will send Sector Captain Yorkel to Upsilon Carinae B, with his forty battleglobes. If the Human strikes elsewhere, you and your Intelligence Node will cease to be of use.”

  Chai stiffened his Whiskers of Distinction and flipped his tail over his left shoulder. “Your wisdom is always instructive, High Commander Brrzeet. I will motivate my staff to intensive efforts at further predictions of the Human’s movements.”

  “See that you do. Now, depart.”

  Chai turned and walked with stiff legs, a limp tail and raised fur as the chill of nearly dying swept over him. Perhaps he should take an inspection tour of the four remaining target areas before this Human appeared elsewhere than he had predicted. In fact, if he was away and the Human attacked the Sector 14 Intelligence headquarters, the loss of its High Commander would surely be beneficial to many lifeforms. Except those lying between the Human and High Commander Brrzeet.

  A sour taste filled Brrzeet’s wide mouth as he watched the black-haired Spelidon biped exit his quarters. Reaching to one side he grabbed a handful of red-veined leaves and stuffed them into his mouth, choosing to munch as he thought.

  There was no doubt the Spelidon had exhausted its ability to be useful. But perhaps he had motivated it to co
mpete more strongly with Sector Captain Yorkel. And what if the Human attacked here, within star system CC93721? There were no genome slaver starships here, yet, and would not be for several more weeks. If the Human attacked here, as the Spelidon had first suggested, its target could only be Commander Chai and his personal Intelligence Node that lay within Globe 841, several score nipads from his Command Node.

  Where to send Sector Captain Yorkel? Sending him to Upsilon Carinae B would move the Brokeet alien in a direction opposite to that of the Cloud of Warning nebula. Bringing Yorkel to Sector 14 Intelligence system would suggest to his underlings that he, Brrzeet, feared for his personal safety. When the only way to rule other beings was to make them fear for their personal safety! He waved one hand over the control pedestal.

  “Assistant Dokeel am-thak, send orders to Sector Captain Yorkel that he is to proceed to Upsilon Carinae B and prepare to battle this renegade Human. Then tachcall Sector 14 Combat Command and have them dispatch forty battleglobes to Sector 14 Intelligence. Say we have urgent need in view of evidence that a pirate fleet of resource raiders is headed our way. Understood?”

  “Understood, High Commander,” said the Hootnai carnivore in swift whistle-speech that his pedestal translated into normal Belizel. “The orders are being sent . . . now. To both parties. Any other wish, High Commander?”

  “None. Continue your work.”

  Brrzeet felt inner humor at the obeisance of his Hootnai chief assistant. The alien belonged to a four-legged, tall-necked species that valued its reputation for efficiency and obedience. And which hunted live game for its daily meat meal. If only this Hootnai knew that the hyper-fast Courier ship which now lay tethered to his Command Node would open its airlock only in response to his verbal command combined with the sensing of his living body temperature. And he had no plans to have passengers in the case of an emergency. Best to leave any living evidence of his fears to be vaporized by this Human. There would then be no one alive to contradict whatever report he made to the Council of Sixteen.

  Matt looked at the three dee image of the Upsilon Carinae B star system, contemplating the value of a quick Hit-and-Run stop at the source of the MotherShip that had fought him in Eliana’s Sigma Puppis B star system. It was the chief shipyard for the Halicene Conglomerate, former employer of Legion. His dead opponent had gifted him with the slow virus curse that had crippled his immune system and sent his way a variety of gene-based illnesses during the trip out to the Small Magellanic Cloud, and back. Until the expanded psychic powers of Eliana allowed her to predict the next incarnation and location of the slow virus. Whereupon Mata Hari created a retrovirus vehicle for the safe delivery of the anti-viral agent that finally killed the nasty little virus. It had adopted more genetic incarnations than the old SuperFlu and he felt relief at being his normal, cyborg self. And at thinking in normal human-slow mode.

  A databyte nanocube in his visual cortex dropped into his mind the specifications for the shipyard, its financial value to Halicene, the damage its loss would do to one of the galaxy’s sixteen chief corporations, and finally, the nature of the broad asteroid belt that filled the space about the B7III giant star that was only 12 million years old. While planets might form later, this star now held only rings of gas, dust and a broad asteroid belt that began ten AU from the hot blue-white star. The nanocube, augmented by cyborg knowledge augmentation viruses, said the Halicene shipyard consisted of a Ceres-size asteroid base for worker housing and admin facilities, while anywhere from six to fourteen MotherShip hulks orbited the giant asteroid, undergoing construction phases that depended on the arrival of Supply Tubes with optoelectronic components not locally made. The Supply Tubes always exited Translation space-time in an open space about 15 AU out from the star, and within a few million miles of the admin asteroid.

  “Matthew, we are barely 1,400 light years out from 51 Pegasi. It will take another week to arrive in the Kappa Crucis cluster and join your Ocean Fleet,” Mata Hari said in his mind.

  Matt welcomed his partner into his mental ruminations, and valued that she spoke at human-mode speed. He would not go to lightspeed optical neurolinking until they exited Translation. Which was the matter at issue here. “I know that, Mata Hari.” Her mind persona image showed the Summer Girl look, an image she always wore whenever with Gatekeeper, or when she felt they were not under threat. “But taking a few minutes to make a near-lightspeed strike on the shipyard will not delay our arrival time.”

  Mata Hari frowned, a contrast to the usual relaxed look of her Summer Girl persona. She pulled back her long black hair into a ponytail and crimped it, then smoothed down her yellow cotton summer dress. Her dark eyes looked up at him. “That assumes we do not suffer any damage from a battle with whatever combat ships may be present in the system.”

  Matt knew that. And he knew that the Upsilon Carinae system was a predictable ‘target’ spot for him to strike. His past history as a Vigilante for hire was known to Combat Command and Sector 14 Intelligence in the Crab Nebula. They knew he had cost the Halicene Conglomerate billions of platinum Standards when former Commander Chai ordered Halicene to leave Sigma Puppis. But now, he had just made destructive strikes on two Anarchate facilities that had no historic link with him. Why should he change his combat choices now?

  “You are correct, Mata Hari. We could sustain damage. On the other hand, learning whether there are Nova-class battleglobes stationed here, to defend the shipyard, will tell us something about the Anarchate’s future defensive strategy.”

  His AI partner sighed in his mind, copying a habit Matt knew bothered Eliana and other nearby folks. “Matthew, you are allowing your anger at Halicene to interfere with logical thinking,” she said. “Permit me to suggest you make mental tachlink contact with Eliana so she can ‘look ahead’ and see if we face any surprises at Upsilon Carinae B.”

  A good idea. “Thank you, good Mata Hari. I will do just that.” In his mind Matt reached out over his embedded tachlink node, seeking the ‘feel’ of Eliana’s mind.

  She felt him and sent a gorgeous smile his way. “Matthew! So lovely to hear from you! We are still on our way to Kappa Crucis, as I hope you are. Oh!”

  “Will you help?” he said to her startled look as she read the surface of his mind and realized his intention to strike the Halicene shipyard.

  “Soooo, you wish me to look precognitively into your near-future? For surprises?”

  “Please, my love?” He opened his inner mind-self to her, letting her feel how he always felt when in physical or mental contact with her.

  In his mind, Eliana’s green eyes shown bright and her pale white face showed two small dimples as she smiled back. “Thank you, dear Matthew. Now let me concentrate.”

  He pulled away from the mental outreach that she and Suzanne always experienced when they used their psychic abilities to ‘read the future’. It was a part of her mind that glowed like the neutrinos of the Sun Glow room, but was a place he could not enter mentally. That said, he felt her shock at whatever she saw. “Trouble?”

  Her eyes showed moistness. “Yes. There are plenty of battleglobes there, awaiting your arrival. They are commanded by Yorkel. As best I can read his surface intentions, he was ordered to go there by Commander Chai. You should pass it by, Matthew.”

  “I know that.” But he also felt a need to defy fate. To attack even when expected. To put his life on the line, every day, for not taking his sister Charlotte with him to Elios port on Thuringia. Thereby allowing her, at least, to survive the genome slaver raid. Eliana felt his emotions and felt his stubbornness. She shook her head slowly.

  “Matthew, I foresee plenty of explosions and great danger.”

  “Will we survive?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly, her eyes going distant as she again looked at the future time stream. “But Yorkel feels like a very determined opponent. You risk the flagship of Ocean Fleet in your effort to . . . satisfy your guilt feelings.”

  Matt sat stiff in the glass chair of his
Interlock Pit, feeling tense even though he and Mata Hari and Gatekeeper and BattleMind were as safe as could be, since they were in Translation space-time. That would change once he ordered Mata Hari to enter new coordinates for an exit from Translation. “I know. Let me think it over. There are pros and cons to attacking the shipyard.”

  A purple-scaled giant dragon took shape in his awareness as BattleMind joined their mindflow chat. Its two red eyes focused on him as intently as Eliana’s mind focused on them. “This is a target. A good target if we can destroy both the shipyard and Anarchate battleglobes! The T’Chak do not avoid combat. We welcome it!”

  In the background of his mind there floated Mata Hari and her lifepartner Gatekeeper. Both expressed mental reservations. BattleMind ignored them the way a corporate executive would ignore small underlings. That behavior reminded him of the nature of what he fought. An end to a totalitarian system that ruled the lives of trillions of people.

  “We will do a fast Hit-and-Run on the shipyard,” he mentally told Eliana, Mata Hari and Gatekeeper. “But not for my revenge. We will make this hit and leave a locator beacon for Commander Chai saying we attacked even though we knew there was a fleet of battleglobes protecting the shipyard. That will say something to the superiors of both Yorkel and Chai that they need to hear. Tyranny always falls before hope.”

  Sector Captain Yorkel liked his new Captain’s Booth. It had no acid stains on the surrounding clear plastic. And his old Bridge crew filled the half circle of the Bridge. Executive Officer Malel stood to his right, his brown-scaled body encircled by a ring of data panels and WorkPads. Tactical Officer Lark’s hairy form stood before his Tactical Cluster, his mental attention already tracking the tachlink reports from the thousands of tachRemotes they had seeded throughout Upsilon Carinae B’s system.