Star Vigilante (Vigilante Series)

by T. Jackson King

  “Partner, see if you can connect me with Autarch Dreedle at Tree Melisen. We must know her status.”

  “Complying.” The mood of the ship’s hovering presence felt very formal and stiff, almost as if a new personality now moved in the AI.

  Shit. Now he had to deal with a twitchy AI. At least his replacement minisats fed him elint data on the armed struggle for control of the Derindl planetary capital. Pit sidescreens also showed uplinked images. Smoke rose over one-third of Tree Melisen, but the levels of electronic and subatomic communications were returning to near-normal. Someone seemed back in control. But who? And did all of the Pure Breed Greek colonists at Olympus town agree with the power grab by Nikolaos, or was there opposition in the urbus? Had any Pure Breeds fought against the Pericles terrorists? And what was the fate of the crossbreeds?

  Matt wished he had a humint source inside Olympus itself, but time had been too short to suborn someone. He must rely on sensor feeds for most of his human colony data, though perhaps teacher Larissa could be reached. New images came online from Tharsis Plateau. They showed a Derindl armed corvette in Nullgrav Hover above the buildings of Olympus Colony. Interesting. Perhaps the Autarch stood ready to strike back at Nikolaos for his attempt to upset the power balance aboard Zeus Station. So much for sexual politics.

  “Matthew,” Mata Hari interrupted his musing, her normal feminine voice now returned with an apologetic-looking Mata Hari persona-image. “The Autarch Dreedle is on-line, but her signal is warbling and weak.”

  “Good enough.” And thank the stars the real AI had returned, though he wondered again at the persona change. Could the masculine voice relate to the energy glow from the Restricted Rooms? A glow which had now returned to the normalcy of impenetrable to him and his Mata Hari partner. He sighed. “Eliana—would you join me in pickup range?”

  “Yes!” She was up and out of her accel-couch faster than a hypersonic missile. Eliana squatted down beside the Pit, one hand touching lightly his bare shoulder. Her touch felt good.

  Autarch Dreedle appeared in the forward holosphere. Her long hair was tied back, she still wore her combat harness, and the organized chaos of a temporary Combat Command post moved behind her. She looked tired, her face smoke-streaked, and red blood ran from one shoulder. When she spotted Eliana, suspicion flared in her eyes. “Mata Hari—Spyridon’s forces have been thrown back into the countryside. My troops are now hunting them down.” She showed many sharp teeth. “You were right about the instability of human allegiances. Are you going to kill Despot Nikolaos . . . or may I have the pleasure?”

  Whoa. “Uh, Autarch, I understand your rage—”

  “You do not!” she screamed, shaking visibly, then calming as icy determination filled her. “Nikolaos sold out to Legion. I care not what you humans do to each other, but when you league against the Derindl our entire society units against any aggressor!”

  Eliana leaned forward tentatively. “My crossbreed cousins—are they still alive?”

  Dreedle frowned at Eliana. “Do you think us uncivilized?” Her frown deepened. “We were a culture respected in the galaxy while you humans were still planet-bound! Of course the crossbreeds are safe—our people know the difference between scapegoats and those truly responsible. Like Nikolaos, Spyridon and Legion.” She sighed, looking very tired, then focused back on Matt. “A gift for you Vigilante, in return for the minisat intelligence and the orbital bombardment help from your ship. You recall the shipboard bioweapon unknowingly carried by your Patron?”

  “Yes.” Beside him Eliana looked startled, then embarrassed that he’d revealed her shame to the Autarch. She hung her head, gaze downcast. But her hand stayed on his shoulder.

  The Autarch watched Eliana with curious eyes. “A captured lieutenant of Spyridon informs us that was an attack by one Creon Theodopulous.” Eliana cried out with dismay. “Young Creon desired Eliana as his Trade wife. He was convinced by other forces to use her as an unwitting carrier for the weapon. Her departure to find you—without first seeing her brother—foiled their plans to kill Ioannis with the bioweapon.”

  “Forces?” Matt recalled his puzzlement at the time. “What other forces?”

  Dreedle’s expression soured. “My ex-amour Nikolaos. It seems he convinced Creon the bioweapon would kill only Eliana’s brother, leaving the way open for his marriage suit.”

  Now he could see it coming. “And who convinced Nikolaos to suborn Creon?”

  “Who else? Spyridon!” Fury flamed in the Autarch’s eyes. “The bioweapons they used against our Mother Tree show the same sophistication as the aerogel bioweapon that attacked you. Now do you understand why Nikolaos’ life is forfeit?”

  Matt remembered Dreedle’s first question. He didn’t blame her, but he had other plans for the Greek. “Please leave Nikolaos to me. Any word from Zeus Station?”

  Dreedle showed only scant interest. “They have been off Vidcast for the ten minutes. We cannot raise Despot Ioannis or our own Trade legates. Our satellites show they did not sustain structural damage. Eventually they will recontact us. And we have our own problems—earthquakes! Four Translation gravity pulses so close to Halcyon have unsettled our lands.”

  Hmmm. Would the Autarch do more for him? “Dreedle, could you have your other corvette investigate the station? I am reluctant to leave the parking orbit ordered by the Anarchate battleglobe.”

  For the first time, fear shone in the eyes of Autarch Dreedle. “Vigilante, I know we called for them to come, but what will they do? Will they destroy our planet?”

  Eliana’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “Matthew?” she whispered, looking to him.

  He patted her hand. “Autarch, it is unlikely. As you said—you called them. They will investigate first, so long as no one is stupid enough to attack them. Perhaps your planet will be the true winner in this contest.”

  “Winner?” Dreedle barked harshly. “With a third of my capital in ruins? Our atmosphere polluted by transuranic fallout? Our Genetic Manufactory partly destroyed?”

  Matt tensed, then relaxed as Eliana rubbed his neck. “The Stripper is dead. The Halicenes are blocked for the moment. Spyridon is on the run. You control the planet. There’s an old human saying—half a loaf of bread is better than no loaf.”

  Dreedle grimaced, then waved her hand. “No more human idioms and conundrums, Vigilante. I have work to do. Good day.” Her image disappeared.

  On the deck beside him, Eliana reached up, grasped his chin, and turned him so he faced her. “Matt—what will you do now?”

  “Get rid of Obliteration.”

  She gasped, pulling back as dismay filled her eyes. “What! I . . . I’m worried for you. For us. Can’t this fighting stop now?”

  “Not until the Mican is destroyed.” In his deep mind, Matt made PET contact with Mata Hari, her hovering cloud presence a patient friend. She’d tended to ship repairs while he handled organic liaison. She must think him expert in that area, though he doubted his own nature, let alone his abilities. Enough. Time to work. “Mata Hari, are we able to go to Stealth mode?”

  “Yes,” she said out loud. “But the Anarchate battleglobe will eventually detect our gravity wave emissions.”

  “How long before they detect us?” he said. Beside him, a kneeling Eliana kept silent, folded hands in her lap, and looked depressed.

  “Unknown,” said his symbiont. “My Library banks do not include any schematics or data on Anarchate Nova-class battleglobes.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because no one has yet defeated one.”

  Great. Just great. “Will Obliteration detect us?”

  “Unlikely. My orbiting Nanoshells report that the partial ship is severely crippled, but still under helm control. They could put up a good fight, but we can destroy them.” In his mind, the AI shared his feelings, his emotions, his thoughts. “Is that your wish?”

  “No!” He calmed down. Maybe he was catching whatever it was that had affected Mata Hari’s language circuits.


  Eliana looked newly hopeful. Had she guessed his plan? “Mata Hari, we want Excellent of the Anarchate to destroy them, not us,” Matt said. “Understand?”

  “Yes.” His AI grew intensely interested. “What is your StratTac plan?”

  “One moment. Estimate the time of arrival for Excellent.”

  “Thirteen minutes, twelve seconds, 320 milliseconds, nine nanoseconds and—”

  “Good enough,” he interrupted. “Begin an orbital drift toward Obliteration. Make sure it will put us directly between them and the likely station-keeping orbit of Excellent.”

  “Complying.”

  Matt turned to Eliana, who fixed an emerald gaze on him, a look open and honest.

  Her face appeared remarkably unravaged for having lived, like him, through the prospect of sudden death, unexpected betrayal, being used by Spyridon, and the disquieting silence of Zeus Station. She was still young, at least as far as memory time is counted. But what was she thinking? More importantly, what was Legion thinking and doing? Matt felt certain the Mican would not accept political defeat without further conflict. Could he move before Legion moved—whatever that move might be?

  Eliana smiled faintly. “Your thoughts, my dear Vigilante?”

  “I am thinking you are too beautiful, too wonderful and too good to me . . . for you to betray me. And yet, I wonder if that is your final obligation. Is it?”

  Her gaze wavered, wanting to deny his wild shot, but finally she looked down. She sighed deeply, with great sadness. “You’re wrong. I had hoped we could—”

  “What? A Cyborg and a Crossbreed—what future is there for us? Your brother Ioannis demanded your return. What will your answer be?”

  She looked up, her manner uncertain. “I don’t know. Now. For so many years I’ve sought out, bartered for, and schemed for a neonatal placental unit of my own. So I could have a child.” She blinked swiftly as tears flowed. “I was promised such by Ioannis if I was successful in finding a Vigilante who could save us from the Stripper. Spyridon was right—first generation crossbreeds are infertile with other Derindl, or with each other.”

  “What about with a Pure Breed human? Or even a human cyborg?”

  Eliana showed a wild look, hope warring with something else. “I . . . I’m not sure if—”

  “What’s most important to you? Children, or someone who cares for you, who is totally devoted to you? Who loves you?”

  “Matt!” she said, sounding terribly confused. “Oh Matt! Love . . . love is something I never hoped to—”

  “Matthew,” interrupted Mata Hari in a calm voice. “We’re on station as close to Obliteration as is prudent. Your instructions?”

  He turned away from Eliana, his heart tearing open, his inner self lacerated with his need, his desire and his fear. He’d learned long ago never to get close to any other human because of exactly what he now felt. And because of the betrayal he always expected. It was the one lesson that stayed the same—in the Anarchate universe everyone lied, everyone betrayed, and true faithfulness was reserved for dogs and software programs that didn’t know better. At least the Promise would never betray him—nor he it. Though he still hoped for a life with Eliana, she was clearly torn by family ties, even as she spoke with confusion. Steeling himself, Matt downloaded his plan into Mata Hari’s Tactical CPU, speaking it aloud also. It was time for his Patron to understand how well he’d learned his lessons.

  “We are fully shielded from all-spectrum detection by Excellent?” he queried.

  “Yes, but only on our Excellent-facing side, as you specified,” said Mata Hari. “The Nova has not yet deployed Nanoshell sensors between us and Legion’s Obliteration. But the Anarchate ship is very close. Matt, is this action prudent?”

  “Yes!” He remembered the ancient Earth proverb—the enemy of my enemy is my ally. “Activate one HF laser cannon. Fire at the Halicene vessel in one second. After firing, go back to Stealth mode, quickly shift away from line-of-sight between Excellent and Obliteration, and do not resume normal spectrum identity until the Halicene ship is destroyed. Comply!”

  “Complying.”

  Beside him, Eliana kneeled stiffly on the deckplates, watching him closely and aware of the risk he took. She did not reach out and touch his shoulder like before, though it seemed she wanted to.

  The Cyborg did his job.

  To an outside observer, their ship would have wavered, then disappeared to nearly all subatomic and electromagnetic sensors. No one would detect their drive push sideways—at least, not until some Nanoware sensor picked up the drive byproducts. By then, it would all be over. So he hoped. But the capabilities of Nova-class battleglobes of the Anarchate were a mystery—the only thing anyone knew about them was that it was suicidal to challenge one, let alone shoot at it. A fact he was counting on . . . .

  He tapped fingers on the chair pad, initiating the laser strike.

  In space, things can happen very, very fast. Especially with lightspeed beam weapons.

  Obliteration reacted almost instantly to their HF laser fire. Onboard, its Combat expert systems fired back at the place where his ship had been just milliseconds before. Only they weren’t there and the counterstrike had occurred too quickly for any Halicene organic to countermand it. The Halicene beam instead struck the Nova.

  The Halicene xenon-fluoride excimer laser pulses ate into the black hull of the Anarchate battleship. The pulses hit with energy enough to melt through a meter thick wall of carbon steel.

  Upon the touch of the excimer laser pulse, Excellent fired two black beams of neutron antimatter. They impacted dead center on Obliteration’s remaining half-globe.

  Total matter-to-energy conversion is quick.

  Very quick.

  The expanding gas shell of his opponent flared all across the spectrum as energy crackled through charged gases. Solid projectile charges blew. Power plants glowed incandescent red. Minor nuclear explosions ballooned the expanding gases as torp warheads exploded in their former armories.

  But all was incandescent gas within a few seconds. A gas that enveloped them and should hide their next actions.

  “Emerge from Stealth!” Matt ordered. “Power down immediately upon emergence!”

  Taking the biggest gamble of his life, he waited to see if the Excellent’s fire control reactions were controlled by organic claws . . . or expert programs that might assume, rather than analyze.

  The Nova held its fire even as it finished settling into a station-keeping orbit.

  But his holosphere rippled, then snapped brightly as the Spelidon ship commander glared out at him. The formally dressed rat looked displeased. “Where did you go? And why are you maneuvering?”

  “Your patience is appreciated, Commander. We detected the Halicene’s attempt to fire at you and only sought to obey your orders by not firing back. So we shifted position away from you.”

  The Anarchate commander grated its canines. “I am unfamiliar with your ship transponder and its design. Feed me its parameters now!”

  “Mata Hari, do as the commander says.” Beside Matt, Eliana trembled.

  In his mind, he felt the AI hesitate, then comply. He could tell—even with a compressed speedburst transmission—that some of their capabilities were deleted from the schematics signal. What the hell?

  The Spelidon glanced aside briefly, then focused its black eyes on him, ignoring Eliana. “A curious ship and a curious design. The data appear incomplete. But I am being hailed by the Derindl planetary leader. The one who sent us a Class One Assist signal. Wait.”

  Before the Anarchate commander could cut their connection, Matt spoke hurriedly. “A moment, please.” The Spelidon showed surprise at his impertinence. “We are in the employ of Autarch Dreedle. May we ride on her signal and your reply so that we may better understand our duties and obligations?”

  The Spelidon snorted. “You have no duty other than to obey me! But your request is inconsequential. Abide and observe, but do not interrupt.”

 
Matt nodded, not caring whether the alien understood human body language.

  Autarch Dreedle’s image appeared in the holosphere next to that of the Anarchate commander. “Commander, thank you for protecting our planet from Halicene Conglomerate.”

  The Commander looked irritated. “That was not our purpose. Who interferes in your planetary affairs?”

  Dreedle stood tall and formal in her Combat Command. “The ship you just destroyed. That of Prime Dominant Legion and the Halicene Conglomerate. They—”

  Suddenly, an outside Vidcast signal interrupted Dreedle’s conversation with the Anarchate Commander. Who could it be? Eliana looked as surprised as he and Mata Hari felt.

  A dark-shadowed griffin-tiger glowed in the holosphere.

  Legion!

  Signal BackTrack showed it came from Zeus Station. Legion was alive! But how? And what was it doing on Zeus Station? Even as Matt wondered, his symbiont queried their instrumentalities. The Anarchate Commander did not care for the discourtesy.

  “Intruder,” the Spelidon snarled, “we destroy beings for less—”

  “Your Pardon, Commander,” Legion said in a smooth, calculating voice. “But everything you are being told by Autarch Dreedle is a lie. She is not the rightful ruler of her planet, her human allies have renounced her, and she is in contravention of a legally-binding contract for services. A Hearing is demanded.”

  The Spelidon’s claw-hand stopped before finishing its downward movement. It now looked puzzled. “You represent the ship Obliteration that just attacked me?”

  In the holo, Legion’s wings flapped hurriedly. “Yes, but that was without my—”

  “Silence!”

  Everyone shut up as the Spelidon rose from its desk, both arms held stiff against its furry side. Matt had never seen an Anarchate Commander act so furious. Of course, this was the first one he’d ever seen one. Most people went in the opposite direction when the Anarchate approached. The Spelidon spoke very formally.