Galactic Vigilante (Vigilante Series 3)

by King, T. Jackson

  “How? Weren’t there any battleglobes protecting it? Did anyone escape? Was his fleet with—”

  “Just one Dreadnought destroyed our heritage,” Yorkel whistled in slow Belizel. “Look at these images. And think of the effect upon other captains who graduated from the academy.”

  A side wallscreen brightened with the blue-white explosions of battleglobes being vaporized, those being the two that were in orbit about Salem. The view swung down to the planet, zooming in on a black hypersonic Fire-and-Forget missile that sped downward toward the academy. An elevation indicator to the left of the flatscreen moved downward from 320 nipads to 210 to 23 and then, at one-tenth nipad, the screen filled with the yellow-orange light of a thermonuclear fusion explosion that another indicator measured at one-twentieth the strength of the stealth thermonuke Offense sleds Yorkel had sent against the Alcubierre space-time shields which protected the Human’s warship. A later image showed a fused crater of purple and green glass that filled the flat ridgeline on which the academy and support city had been located. Beyond the crater, which seemed centered on Assembly Hall, only tumbled rock, concrete and metal bones showed, none of them rising higher than Chai’s own height. He swallowed hard. His teeth ground together as emotion raged through him. Blinking, trying to think beyond his anger, he spoke stupidly.

  “But, but, the Human did not use his neutrino weapon that could have turned the whole planet into stellar plasma. And the graviton beam was only used against the Silenius, not the moon Lileen. Why was he restrained? Why—”

  “To hurt us and to sow doubt among already serving battleglobe captains,” Yorkel said in a heavy voice. “The Human’s ship materialized in front of the local sun, between Salem and the next planet inward. His ship sped toward Salem and Lileen at three-fourths lightspeed. There was very little time for anyone to counter-attack, even though the nearer battleglobes fired laser and antimatter beams along the vector line indicated by the gravity pulse emitted when his ship left Translation.”

  “They fired? To what effect?”

  “None,” said Yorkel, then waved at the other wallscreen where a tally of losses from the Human’s attack now glowed. “We lost four thousand, three hundred and twenty-one students, ninety-six Instructors and senior Guidance staff. Plus Chancellor Longine, who, per a vidimage left by this Human, took himself to the top of the central Academy tower and there lay down with forearms upraised as if to fend off the incoming missile. He knew what was coming, even with limited sensor data. He, like the entire Academy city, was vaporized.” The Brokeet paused, its pale yellow coloring growing slightly stronger. “The mining dome and nearby buildings became a similar crater. Loses there were three hundred twenty-one lifeforms. In space, we lost four active duty battleglobes, the Silenius, every Remote larger than my head, and most of the comsat and gps satellites in orbit above Salem. The Tachyon Pylon at the Salem shuttle launch pad was left intact. Help arrived, but every Anarchate lifeform and facility was either dead or irradiated to a fatal level.”

  “The native Dweedle species,” Chai asked, his brain continuing to focus on details versus meaning. “Were they, did they suffer damage?”

  “Strange you should ask,” Yorkel said, waving two hands to dismiss the wallscreen images, then stepping out of his Captain’s Booth to approach Chai. “Their habitation choice left them uninjured by the blast. Only a few Dweedle working as bondServants in the city died. The new Anarchate representatives report the Dweedle planetary matriarch has asked that the academy not be rebuilt on their home world.”

  Chai could now see the points that had left Yorkel so upset, since the fleet captain had known of the attack before Chai’s arrival in the Thuringia system. “Yes. We will have to find a new star system for the Sector 14 naval academy. And the appeal of increased commerce and annual spending by Anarchate staff and facilities may not exceed fear over being subject to thermonuke attack.” He stiffened his whiskers into the posture of Defiance Determined. “Do you wish me to change from my Thuringia Intelligence survey and move to—”

  “No!” Yorkel clicked loudly in emotion-laden Belizel. “No. While I rebuild my fleet with new battleglobes from the Sector 14 naval base at Vela system, you must land on this Thuringia, learn every detail you can discover about this Human Dragoneaux, his family, the attitude of local Humans toward the Anarchate and this genome harvester attack long cycles ago that has motivated this soft-skinned biped to declare war upon the Anarchate.”

  “Determined I will be in my survey work,” Chai said, leaving his tail to skitter nervously on the gravplates of Yorkel’s office. The office of someone he had previously hated due to the favoring of Yorkel by his dead instructors. It seemed they now shared common cause. “What will our future response be?”

  Yorkel’s two golden eyes gleamed in the light of the illumination strip. “Counterattack, of course. Either we must predict where he will next attack, or we must create a reason for him to come to us. Since he attacked the Halicene shipyard even though he knew my fleet was waiting for him, he is arrogant enough to come to us. If we can provide suitable bait.”

  Chai knew much about bait. It was a tactic most Spelidon used in their march to advance within the ranks of the Anarchate. Discovering what motivated another species allowed one to offer what was most desired, even as the Spelidon master moved aside and advanced upslope into higher command. Pushing aside the shock of learning about the destruction of the academy, Chai felt renewed eagerness to land at Elios spaceport on Thuringia, and to expand his survey to any burrow, crevice or perch whereupon this Human might have stood before he left for space. All he needed was access to the planet’s civil archive database, a guide from the office of the planet’s governor, and fast hoverjet transport. He focused upon the hard chitin bodyform of his former competitor.

  “You can count on me, alliance-mate.”

  The hard-skinned Brokeet folded two pairs of arms over his thorax and inclined his gaze toward Chai. “Well met are we as alliance mates. Your species is respected for loyalty to whomever they declare alliance. Together, we shall find a way to vaporize this Human pestilence before he further disrupts the Council of Sixteen.”

  “Agreed,” he said. “The memory of Chancellor Longine motivates me.”

  “And me also,” clicked Yorkel in Belizel. The arthropod folded both pairs of arms together in the Brokeet sign of satisfaction. “Depart on your survey task. Keep me informed.”

  “Agreed, alliance-mate.”

  Chai turned and headed out through the office’s slidedoor, already computing the datafiles he would need from Thuringia’s civil archive database. Plus, it would be interesting to observe these tail-less, nearly hairless, Human bipeds as they related to each other. Was this world anything more than an agricultural planet colony established decades ago by the Earth home world of the species? And what did the reference to Thuringia as a Third Wave colony mean? Heading for his personal vacsuit in the outer alcove of Yorkel’s office, Chai set his mind to the task of learning all he could about the minor Orion Arm species that called itself Human. Some data was already known. The Humans had spread themselves outward to twenty-seven colony planets scattered over Sagittarius, Orion and Perseus arms. That was part of the record in the Compendium of Species. But what was it about this meager species that prompted a member of it to assume the arrogance normal to his fellow Spelidons and other Ancient species of the Anarchate? Well, he would find out. And in the finding he would discover an answer to this biped who’d been lucky enough to find some alien warships.

  Matt sat in the Interlock Pit of starship Mata Hari, in mind communion with Eliana, Suzanne, George, Sarah, Rafael, the alien pilot Toktaleen and the AI Flowering, the eight members of Hexagon Prime. They watched the orderly movement of 500 T’Chak warships through the black reaches of space that lay within Kappa Crucis cluster. Standing on the Bridge, in company with the holos of Mata Hari and BattleMind, were Morrigan Governor Airmed O’Davoren and Militia General Balor O’Clery. They wer
e the reason he and his fellow ship pilots were repeating the Ocean Fleet maneuvers previously developed by Suzanne and Eliana. Anyway, the two leaders of Morrigan deserved to see the combat prowess of their citizens who’d volunteered as ship pilots, in addition to Sarah and Rafael.

  “Remarkably complex,” murmured O’Davoren as she watched the real-time movements of the T’Chak warships.

  “Deadly their dance,” said O’Clery, his grey head gleaming under the yellow light of the Bridge.

  Matt agreed wholeheartedly. It was amazing what his two psychic women had accomplished in the short time since they’d arrived at Dagda system, contacted the governor, explained the 506 gravity wave pulses that would have frightened any planetary authority, then sought and received 43 pilot volunteers from the million inhabitants of Morrigan. Many had wished to follow the path of honor and duty that George had so ably described in a recruiting video. Another eighty volunteers were undergoing simulation training, aboard the Defense sled Matt had left to defend Morrigan from future cloneslaver attacks. He planned to return for them once the first Ocean Fleet attacks were carried out. But now, it was him, the human members of Hexagon Prime, the first class of forty Morrigan women and men, and two aliens from his Alkalurops rescue who made up the organic pilot volunteers. He gave verbal thanks to the ten Cohort leader AIs who were moving the 500 ships through Suzanne’s complex mix of defense and offense.

  “Thank you, Vigilante Matt,” said the nearby holo cloud of the AI Immovable, who’d been chosen to represent the cohort AIs in any Battle Council. “This fight is as much for AI self-determination as it is to prevent enslavement of organics.”

  O’Davoren moved from standing beside Matt’s Interlock Pit to squatting beside him. “Vigilante Dragoneaux, what do we do when the Anarchate arrives and sets up a local office? We cannot pretend you did not rescue our kidnapped citizens. It’s in every news and data bank on the planet. While my office handled your request for volunteer pilots, with no news reports on the request, still, helping you would have been impossible if the Anarchate had set up a local office. So far, they’ve sent us orders or inquiries by way of our Tachyon Pylon. We reply, we pay our taxes, and so far, they’ve left us alone.”

  Matt nodded even as part of his mind stayed in communion with his human and AI mind partners. “That won’t last. The public history of the Anarchate says they always set up a local base within a hundred years of contact. You are part of their commercial web. You’ve been visited by several conglomerates offering you services. Which you wisely declined. And my activities may cause the Sector 14 admin people to visit every human colony world.”

  “We can pretend innocence,” O’Clery said in a dry voice. “We descendants of the Tuatha De Danaan learned to do that when we were occupied by the Vikings, the British and others. This is our homeland. A true Emerald Isle in the stars. And we are no different from other Earth colonies, except for your rescue of our citizens. And the giant ‘Thank You’ party we gave when you landed with them in Lisdoonvarna.”

  Matt smiled as he recalled Mata Hari’s nearly solid holo image dancing across the giant meadow of the city’s central park. In his mind Eliana, Suzanne, George, Sarah and Rafael also smiled or chuckled as they relived those wonderful memories. Mata Hari’s nearby holo turned to his two Morrigan guests.

  “That party was a wonderful experience for me and for my partner Gateway,” she said, her holo persona changing from the frilly white Victorian look of her Spy persona to the cotton dress look of her Summer Girl persona. Dark eyes focused on Matt, Immovable, Airmed and Balor. “I can dispatch a limpet complink for attaching to the Defense sled we left you so its unthinking mind has no knowledge of our prior attacks. The casino refugees were always restrained during Matthew’s combat actions. You can insert data worms into your planetary datanet that will cleanse any private discussion of Matt’s crusade from the civil databanks. Any Anarchate visitor will recover only the news from those few days of anger at the attack, your tachlink contacts with us, the joy of our bringing home your captives and the casino refugees, then nothing afterwards beyond your official appreciation. Agreed?”

  “Mata Hari, yes, dispatch your limpet complink with our corvette when Balor and I return to Morrigan,” Airmed said, then squeezed his bare shoulder. “Matthew, you and your AIs are a marvel. Without your aid, fifteen of our citizens would be zombie reservoirs of DNA for sale to cloneslave factories.” Airmed stood up. “Even today we would be hard pressed to drive off another genome harvester ship without the marvel that is your Defense sled. So thank you again, from my people and from the love that we Irish always have for a great hero who fights for justice and honor.”

  “Just doing what I promised to do.” He smiled physically and mentally. “And Airmed, you and other colonies in Orion Arm will not have to worry about cloneslaver raids for some years to come. Thanks to our battle at Alkalurops C.”

  Balor slapped his right hand against his chest in the Morrigan militia sign of allegiance given. “Vigilante Dragoneaux, we may have to keep secret your future efforts to end cloneslavery in the Milky Way, but my children’s children, who even now study our recent history, will know of the honor that your geis bestows on us.”

  Matt recalled his promise to his dead love, Helen Sayinga Trinh, to always offer help to any world that sought his Vigilante help. “Thank you, Balor,” he said, recalling his oldest sister Charlotte. “While I fight the Anarchate for the life and liberty of everyone, human and alien, the young ones especially motivate me. No one should lose sisters or brothers to cloneslavery.”

  Eliana and Suzanne suddenly appeared in separate holos on the Bridge. “Balor,” said Eliana’s holo, “we women here and among your Morrigan volunteers go to battle for life, though we bring death to some. Suzanne and I agreed long ago that we do not want our children to grow up as bondServant slaves.”

  Airmed O’Davoren nodded tightly to the two women. “We understand. Our hero Cuchulainn honored one geis only to violate another geis laid on him. He too faced hard choices. But we all remember him. We all honor him.”

  “And, Matthew Dragoneaux,” Balor murmured, “honoring the geis laid on you by your woman Trinh, pursuing battle to save souls from slavery while bringing justice to worlds in need, is the highest duty any man can carry out. Whether you overthrow the Anarchate, or just save the lives of millions, your name will be long remembered among the human and alien worlds.”

  Airmed linked arms with Balor. “Matthew, follow your geis. Strike against the Anarchate ships and bases until they, like Conglomerate Melikark, change their behavior and outlaw cloneslavery. If they refuse, then our world and other worlds will do it for them. With your help.”

  Matt stepped out of the Interlock Pit to stand with the holos of his allies human and AI. A whisper sounded as his yukata robe dropped from the Bridge ceiling. He donned it quickly as his two guests reached the Spine pressure door. “Airmed and Balor, thank you for your pilot volunteers. Thank you for the normality of that party. And thank you for standing with me against the Anarchate.”

  The two turned his way, with Balor silent but Airmed showing a serious face. “Matthew of Thuringia, Balor and I, we too follow our own geis. We put our lives in the way of harm to our fellows. As you and your AI allies do. Go now and battle, knowing that we are your refuge and your future home.”

  Matt bowed slightly, thinking of how much the citizens of Morrigan risked if it was discovered how they helped him and his fellow pilots. Then again, it seemed the entire Irish population of Morrigan followed a geis that matched his own. With a sigh, he mentally asked his allies to prepare for Translation and be ready for the attack on the Sector 14 naval base at Vela HD 81471 system, about 1,200 light years from Morrigan. It was an attack that neither Chai nor Yorkel could predict, but an attack that would surely worry them. And perhaps the Council of Sixteen.

  Toktaleen of the Brokeet, home world Cloudy, of the Nest Adventurous, stood in the Interlock Pit of the starship Gondu, feelin
g bewildered by his elevation to serve as pilot on one of the eight T’Chak warships which made up Hexagon Prime fleet. A term that carried some sense. As did his service to Vigilante Dragoneaux, of the Newcomer species Human, who had saved the lives of him and his family. But he did not understand the lack of a price for their salvation. When none had been demanded, he offered himself as a pilot volunteer. After all, in the Anarchate, nothing came free.

  He and Sickanoon, with their newly birthed infant, had expected only eventual death once sold to the Flesh Markets of Alkalurops. It was their curse to live when other captives died since Brokeets needed less water than most species. But then everything changed. One moment they suffered in the dark cargohold of the genome harvester starship, the next they were being fed and sheltered aboard the incredible starship Mata Hari. Fellow bipeds of the Human species had also been recovered by the Vigilante, but that was not the reason he and his family were rescued. And there was no demand for indentured bondservitude or the promise of their future offspring for sale. His lifemate had spoken with other species females, then clicked to him that the soft-skinned, pale-colored and two-armed Human had declared war on the Anarchate and aimed to abolish cloneslavery once and for all. Hence their rescue and freedom. Astonishment still filled him.

  “Pilot Toktaleen,” murmured the AI Gondu in his mind, “feel your astonishment at another time. We are within forty nitas of leaving Translation and this ship must be ready for lightspeed combat and to serve our part in protecting starship Mata Hari from attack by thermonuke sleds. Are your brain lobes ready for Systems Checkout?”

  Toktaleen refrained from reaching back with an upper arm to feel the neural cord attachment point of the fiber optic cable that allowed him to optically neurolink with a self-aware computer intelligence. With a thought he activated the inertial field that would brace him as his body and mind responded to thousands of inputs from the Pit and from distant parts of this alien starship. “Yes, my brain lobes are ready. All three of them. Though it seems as if you, partner Gondu, have thousands of them.”