The Vigilante Chronicles Boxed Set 1

by Natalie Grey

“Unlikely.” Shinigami snorted. “No, I said they won’t. Their security systems look for active ships without the Boreir Group security codes, and we won’t be an active ship when they see us.” There was a pause. “You are going to turn me back on, aren’t you?”

  “That depends on whether you intend to keep making insane plans,” Gar shot back.

  Barnabas chuckled.

  “Laugh it up, blondie,” Shinigami muttered. She flickered into existence as a projection.

  Barnabas shut up and glared at the projection as it took a seat. “It’s a wig.”

  “It’s blond. Also, you look ridiculous.”

  “I look like a Torcellan.”

  “Only if nobody looks too hard,” Gar muttered. “I just want to ask again, are we sure this is going to work? Because this. Is. Insane.”

  “None of it is insane; every part of it is logical. I’m an AI, so I literally can’t be insane. I only make good plans.”

  “I was with you right up until that last part,” Barnabas told her. “May I remind you that you once suggested using guided missiles during an interrogation?” Also, he added silently, let’s not tell Gar that was his interrogation, shall we?

  Good call. “That was entirely logical. First, I didn’t think you were going to get anything more out of them, so we didn’t need it to be an interrogation anymore. Second, I wanted to use them, so it was only logical to do so. Third, unrelated to the missiles but important, we’re almost ready to dock. You should get to the airlock.”

  “Indeed.” Barnabas’ lips twitched. He stood and flipped the hood over his face. The white-blond hair of the wig was just visible beyond the hood and the skin of his hands, made artificially paler, looked Torcellan if one only glanced at them. He nodded to Gar. “I leave the ship in your hands. I will communicate when it is time to turn it back on.”

  He left the bridge before Gar could again plead with him to call the plan off.

  He had to admit it was an audacious plan; there was no doubt about that. Boreir Group controlled an entire planet and several moons, around which they had positioned a massive security system. The autonomous weapons systems that comprised it were attuned to spot engine emissions, heat, communications of any sort, electrical activity, and many more subtle indicators of approaching ships.

  Any object giving off any of those signals and not broadcasting the correct security codes on the correct channels would be blown to smithereens.

  They had thought about trying to evade the system, but a quick review of its capabilities and known kills showed that this would probably be far too time-consuming to pull off within the window they had. After all, they needed to do this while the Yennai Corporation bigwigs would probably not be on the lookout for small flickers in their transmissions from the subsidiary groups.

  And taking out the system—or even part of it—was the sort of thing that might attract too much attention.

  The answer they came up with had been elegantly simple—attach themselves to a Boreir Group ship, power down, and use its signal to mask them and get them through the shield.

  They had chosen their ship carefully. It was one of the smaller cargo haulers that had completed its delivery and was returning empty to pick up another load of munitions. Since it was not filled with valuable explosives and it wasn’t one of their bigger ships, it wasn’t presently being guarded by other ships whose crews might see the Shinigami.

  You could fool electronics, but fooling the eyes was a lot more difficult.

  That had been step one. Step two was getting Barnabas onto that ship to get the security codes for their use on the way out and wreak whatever havoc he could, before sneaking him back off, undocking, and flying away to land on the planet.

  “Since we’ll be there anyway…” he had explained to Gar.

  Gar apparently did not agree. He’d been pleading with them for the past two days to reconsider.

  Barnabas shook his head and smiled. Gar would learn. He was willing to bet that within six months Gar would be making plans that were just as audacious. He was already beginning to give as good as he got when they all traded insults.

  Meanwhile, Shinigami was guiding the ship ever closer to the cargo hauler. They were still a ways out from the shield, so she could take her time. Her systems were in overdrive as she scrambled their signals and masked her emissions so that no one on the ship would notice them, and she had to align the ships carefully before docking so that the sound of it wouldn’t reverberate through the hull.

  It was difficult to guide two high-speed ships into perfect alignment, but Shinigami had reflexes better than any human pilot. She had the two ships right next to one another before her airlock extended and coupled to the other ship’s.

  She scanned their frequencies and saw no alerts from any quarter. Whatever was happening inside the ship, no one seemed to have noticed their presence yet.

  “You’re good to go,” she told Barnabas.

  “Thank you.” He stepped into the airlock and pushed himself down the corridor, briefly weightless. At the other end, he attached a small override module and allowed Shinigami to work her magic on the passcodes that held their side of the airlock door in place.

  Shinigami scanned the hallway inside and waited until it was unoccupied before opening the door. Barnabas turned himself the right way up, stepped through, and closed the door behind him.

  Going offline now, Shinigami told him.

  Gar will turn you back on, Barnabas assured her. And if he doesn’t for some reason, I’ll make sure to do it before I kick his ass so you get to watch.

  You’re the best friend an AI could ask for.

  I’ll remind you of that.

  He set off into the corridors with a smile. A few moments later he felt Shinigami’s silent presence in his mind disappear, and Gar reported quietly in his earpiece.

  “The ship is offline.”

  Thank you, Barnabas murmured back. They hadn’t wanted to fit Gar with a communication chip just yet, but he had a receiver that could translate Barnabas’ silent communication into speech for him. We’ll stay radio-silent from here on out unless something goes very wrong.

  “Understood.”

  Barnabas heard footsteps coming up the corridor toward him and he bowed his head, moving purposefully. He must keep his face hidden. If anyone looked closely it would be clear that he wasn’t Torcellan.

  “Hey, you. Captain says to—” The alien’s voice broke off as she approached Barnabas. His eyes flicked up and he saw her examining him.

  Damn. Shinigami, things are about to get—

  He remembered that she was not there to talk to and stopped his monologue. A moment later, scanning the alien’s mind, he realized that she was terrified.

  “I didn’t realize you were aboard,” she apologized, bowing her head.

  Barnabas came to a halt and simply looked at her. Whoever this alien believed he was she was treating him with deference, so he would act as though it was his due. When she looked up, he nodded slowly and followed her with his head as she edged around him and set off again. He could feel her trying not to break into a run.

  Please let him not know who I am. When did he come on board? I have to tell the captain. He probably knows already…

  Her thoughts, fractured and afraid, faded as she moved away and Barnabas frowned slightly.

  This was a complication he hadn’t anticipated. This crew member, and likely others, seemed to believe he was not only a Torcellan but a very specific one. What if one of them had specific questions?

  He would need to take less time on this ship than he had anticipated, and be more cautious. At the very least they were afraid of him, but who knew how far that would get him?

  He made his way to one of the rooms that gathered communications and batched them out. The sheer volume of emitted communications on all frequencies made these places dangerous for most life forms while the communications were active—but Barnabas was not “most life forms.” Gritting his teeth
against the hum and the static charge in the air, he eased his way inside and shut the door behind him.

  Step three was to hook into their communications so they could come and go at will. Who could say when they might need to come back, or what protocols they would need in order to land? Barnabas affixed another device and began to search through the ship’s protocols.

  To his delight, everything was organized very neatly within its data banks. The ship itself was programmed to respond to the queries passed along by the shield system, feeding the information broadcast by them to another algorithm in the ship.

  Barnabas had not anticipated that the shield system would emit part of its own key, but that was genius. Very few people would think the solution might lie there, of all places. He found the algorithm and copied it, then studied the itinerary.

  Shinigami had devised a protocol that would change the ship’s destination and auto-steering but not prevent the captain from receiving any route change instructions sent over Boreir channels. The ship would return itself to the trajectory Barnabas wanted it on, even if the captain somehow figured out that they were going to the wrong place—but it was extremely unlikely that he would.

  This ship would return to the black and deliver the munitions to the middle of nowhere, and as soon as it was far away it would dump the coordinates. Barnabas could figure out what to do with the munitions later.

  He would have stayed, but the knowledge that the people on board were on the lookout for a particular Torcellan changed his mind. He hastened back toward the airlock, opened it, and climbed inside. Once across the little corridor he rapped on the Shinigami’s door and waited for Gar to open it.

  The Luvendi was frowning when the door swung inward. “Is something wrong? You’re back sooner than I expected.” He fell in beside Barnabas as they made their way back to the bridge. “About ten minutes until we pass through the shields, I think.”

  “Nothing’s wrong, precisely.” Barnabas pressed his lips together as he thought. “But they didn’t just mistake me for a Torcellan, they mistook me for one they’re afraid of. So somewhere out there, there’s a Torcellan who goes around hooded like this. Someone who’s high up in their organization.”

  “Or the Yennai Corporation.”

  “Or that. Good point.” Barnabas took a seat in the captain’s chair and considered that while the cargo ship passed through the shields. He noticed Gar radiating tenseness as they went through, but after a while it was clear that the shield had not noticed their presence.

  “Let’s turn the ship back on,” Barnabas instructed. “And go catch us some munitions dealers.”

  19

  Carter had been aware of Rald leaving Tethra within a few minutes of it happening. He had a hopper prepped, so it was quick work to find Oemuga and follow him.

  “Be safe while I’m gone,” he told Elisa seriously. “If you have so much as a hint that Rald has come back, you go hide with the Ubuara.”

  “I don’t think I can fit inside any of their houses.” Elisa laughed at his fussing. “The kids certainly could, though.” She regretted saying that when Carter went pale. “Carter, we’re going to be fine. For all we know, this Shrillexian’s truck is going to sink into the swamp or something.”

  “He got the jump on Heddoran,” Carter reminded her. “I don’t like that. Look, maybe for the next few days—”

  Elisa put a finger to his lips with a smile. “We’ll be fine,” she repeated. “Now go. The sooner you warn them, the sooner you can come back.” She handed him a big bottle of Pepsi. “For the road.”

  “God, I love you.” Carter grinned and kissed her. He knelt for two very sticky kisses from the twins—they had clearly gotten into the hakoj pallets again—and headed off to the hopper.

  To his surprise, Heddoran was already there. He took up most of the hopper and was glaring at anything and everything. Carter assumed this was the Brakalon’s way of hiding his pain. He was frankly surprised that the former guard captain was even able to walk.

  “I know,” Heddoran grizzled when Carter opened his mouth. “But no one knows that camp better than I do. If you want to defend it you need to bring me…and I have to tell them it was me who gave away their location, too.”

  Carter took one look at the Brakalon’s face and gave up his plan to talk him into another course of action. “Very well, then. Hold on.”

  He tried to pilot the hopper as gently as he could, but with the Brakalon on board it was a bumpy journey. And since Rald being on the roads necessitated that they fly the long way around to stay out of sight, it was a long journey as well. It was late afternoon before they arrived, and the mines were just letting out for the day when the hopper set down in the main square.

  Someone must have recognized Heddoran before they even set down because Aebura was already in the square when they arrived. She bounded onto the railings of the hopper and launched into an impassioned monologue in her own language, with a lot of gesturing.

  To Carter’s surprise, Heddoran listened all the way through. He didn’t speak Ubuara—no one really did except them—but he seemed to correctly interpret her words as dismay and not a little bit of scolding.

  “I’m sorry,” the Brakalon told them humbly. “I’ve failed you.”

  Aebura threw a look at Carter. “Carter Eastbourne, tell him that he has not failed us.”

  “I gave the location of the mine to someone who wants to hurt you,” Heddoran blurted before Carter could answer. “I was afraid of what would happen if I did not. After I have helped you fight him off I will resign my post at once.”

  The crowd had gone quiet when he’d admitted what he had done and now they whispered amongst themselves as Aebura swayed side to side, deep in thought. A few of the Ubuara exchanged glances, clearly communicating mind-to-mind as Ubuara did.

  “Start at the beginning,” Aebura told him finally.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this here—” Carter began.

  She only frowned in response and he realized a moment later how strange that must sound to an Ubuara. While other species would hide their leaders away so they wouldn’t start a panic by discussing the imminent attack, the Ubuara would all know what was going on by sensing Aebura’s thoughts.

  “We all hear,” Aebura told him firmly. “Heddoran, explain.”

  “His name is Rald,” Heddoran began. “He’s a Shrillexian. He used to fight with Jutkelon. Jutkelon even mentioned him once or twice. They were old friends. I don’t know how he found out what happened, but he had a lot of questions. He threatened to hurt Carter’s family if I didn’t tell him the names of the people who killed Lan and Jutkelon—and where the mine was. I should have kept my mouth shut and fought harder.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Carter argued fiercely.

  “Carter Eastbourne is right.” Despite Carter’s many reminders, Aebura tended to use his full name. “There were many in the town who knew where the mine was. He would have found one of them if you hadn’t given him the answers—and you would be dead.”

  Heddoran was glowering. He didn’t seem to think this excused his behavior, but he clearly knew better than to argue with Aebura once she’d made up her mind. Carter sympathized. Although he’d known the Ubuara for only a few weeks he had already seen how stubborn she could be, and she always surprised him with her unique combination of forgiveness and fierce idealism.

  “What do we do now?” she asked the two of them, looking back and forth.

  “Fortify this place,” Heddoran growled as he heaved himself up, going a bit grey as his cracked ribs shifted. He stomped toward the guard barracks. “Too much of it is flammable,” he muttered. “Have to form fire brigades, but we’ll need the water in case they try to wait us out…”

  His voice grew fainter and Carter sighed as he looked after the Brakalon.

  “I wish he hadn’t insisted on coming. He should be resting.”

  “When people want to protect their home, it is rude to tell them to let other
people handle it,” Aebura suggested wisely. Her tail twitched. “Which is why I have not told you to go back to Tethra where it is safer and stay with your family.”

  “And leave all of you here undefended? Never.” Carter held up an arm and smiled when she ran up it to perch on his shoulder. “Come on, we’d better follow him and see what he’s up to.”

  It was evening when Rald finally got close to the mine. He had left the truck on the side of the road a few miles away and charted a path through the foothills so no one would see him approach.

  Now he was crouching on one of the hills that overlooked the town and studying the place through binoculars. They weren’t made for a Shrillexian, but they were enough for him to get an idea of what he was doing.

  Several of the guards at the bar in Tethra had suggested that maybe the guard force at the mine had stayed on. Rald had thought they were being ridiculous, but apparently they had been correct. The guards seemed to have training, too. They weren’t just miners taking shifts on the walls.

  He was also pretty sure he had seen Heddoran. He swore at that. He should have just killed the Brakalon when he had the chance. He’d wanted the male to suffer, though, so he’d left him unattended.

  He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  He opened a channel to his contacts in Tethra.

  “No big surprises here. Bring everyone out. Everyone.” He smiled. The miners liked to think they were so clever, sacrificing for each other.

  Rald knew just how to break that spirit.

  It wasn’t very long before Fedden and his team settled on a place for the ambush.

  Once he’d outlined his specifications, captains had started throwing out suggestions. Some places were too easily navigated in a spaceship, others didn’t have enough cover. Many didn’t have the unique lure Fedden had told them the place must have.

  But eventually, Loriq had suggested a place that was perfect. As soon as she said the name, everyone had started nodding. A quick look at the specifications on the screen showed them that no one was misremembering.