by Natalie Grey
What all of this meant was that Shinigami had to be very, very careful to send signals to any ship that might sense her on its scanners. As the ships changed formation even while the fleet was in stasis, that had been a slow process.
She had managed it, however. Barnabas had told her that infiltration was more a game of patience than anything else, and that advice had proved invaluable. Together, they tracked fighter patrols and watched the formations changing, and now they were here.
She guessed Barnabas’ thoughts. You want to go down there and kill him, don’t you?
Yes, Barnabas admitted. Cutting the head off the snake isn’t always the answer, but he’s always been instrumental in holding this together. If we could take him and his top level out, a lot of it would be over.
Shinigami waited for him to say that he wouldn’t do it and eventually got worried. She peered through the cameras to find him climbing down the ladder toward the surface of the Avaris.
Barnabas. You know you can’t get through that many people on your own, right?
I know. His voice was subdued. I promised no heroics. It would kill both of us—and Tafa, and Gar, and Jeltor. And if we failed, there would be no one left who knew what was coming or had our ideas of how to stop it.
Shinigami said nothing.
It’s just difficult, Barnabas confessed finally. He paused as he helped Jeltor down onto the top of the ship. The two of them set off, two tiny figures on the top of the dreadnought. The temptation is always to go in directly and—we’re going in the correct direction, right?
Yes, Shinigami said, amused. I’ll mark the location on your helmet display.
Oh. I see it, yes. Like I was saying, the temptation is to go in directly. Finish it all. Believe it or not, I understood what the admiral was saying. Taking the time to make a good plan is difficult when you know innocent people might die in the meantime.
More innocent people die in the end if you do things the stupid way.
I know that. It’s a train-tracks problem, though.
What?
If you can direct the train to kill fewer people, but… You know what, not important. Suffice it to say, you are entirely correct from a logical standpoint, but emotions are by definition not logical.
Scarily accurate. All right, you’re getting close. Set the crawler down?
Barnabas knelt and released a tiny, spidery-looking robot. It skittered up to something that looked rather like an open porthole and climbed inside.
“Come back now,” Shinigami told them.
“Did we really need to come here to do this?” Jeltor asked.
“Probably not, but you really seemed to want to help. Besides which, shooting a small robot at a dreadnought while both of them are traveling several thousand kilometers per hour seems like it has the potential to go wrong. Just saying.”
Barnabas snickered.
Picturing it?
Yep. He let Jeltor go up the ladder first. Are you getting any data yet?
No, but be patient. It won’t be long. We just have to hang here for a few hours—
In the middle of an enemy fleet.
Yes, that. Eventually, that little bugger will reach something useful. For now, I’m going to focus on making sure it doesn’t trip any security systems. I’ll tell you when there’s news.
Back in the hold, Barnabas stripped off his spacesuit and gave a regretful look at the reflection of his hair in the visor. He looked at Jeltor. “You’re lucky you don’t need a spacesuit.”
“I have to travel in a vat of water. I’m always in a spacesuit.”
“That’s a good point.” Barnabas set off for the kitchen. “We should find something to do for a few hours, until—”
He was interrupted by the sound of mechanical laughter.
“Shinigami?”
It was a few moments before Shinigami recovered enough to talk. “Oh, you are not going to believe this.” She was still cackling. “You are not going to believe this. Oh, this is priceless. They’re going to attack High Tortuga.”
“Which, if you’ll recall, was our greatest fear.”
“Uh-huh. Just come into the conference room, and I’ll show you their battle plan, though.” She was still laughing. “I can’t wait to show the Jotun fleet this. This is amazing. I’m going to see if I can get that crawler onto the bridge so I can see their faces when we get there and they see where they are.”
24
“She’s sure they’ve fucked up that badly?” Gar asked a while later. He sounded doubtful. He swung his arms to loosen them and watched as Barnabas warmed up.
At the edge of the room, beyond the mats, Jeltor watched curiously. Jotun tended to be a fairly insular species, and their reliance on powersuits meant any physical altercation could be fatal.
They could sling insults with the best of them, but they did not have physical fights.
Which was just as well, really, Jeltor thought now. When bipedal aliens fought, there was a certain grace to it. They could contort their bodies, and they could summon great power.
When two Jotun fought—as children sometimes did—it was just two bags of jelly slapping each other with thin, noodle-like tentacles. Not dignified. Not even impressive. Just sad.
Jeltor was, therefore, intrigued by Barnabas and Gar’s sparring.
“She’s very sure,” Barnabas said. “I made her stay to double-check. They have the battle plan, and they’ve ‘leaked’ information to the Jotuns to try to get them there as well. I’ll tell you, I had a hell of a time trying to get Admiral Threton to walk right into the trap.”
“It’s hard to blame him for that,” Jeltor said, scrupulously accurate. Admiral Threton had plenty of faults, to be sure, but this wasn’t one of them.
“Oh, I know that. But we know a lot more now. We know Koel’s plan.”
Barnabas continued to speak as he slid into motion. It happened so gracefully, in fact, that Jeltor hardly noticed it. He only realized what he saw a split-second before Gar went flying and slid into the wall. Barnabas wore a slight smile, lips curving in genuine amusement.
Jeltor saw the logic of it. The fight didn’t start when Gar was ready. One could never expect a fight to start predictably.
Barnabas charged for another attack, but Gar seemed to have taken the lesson to heart. He dove sideways at the last second and threw up one leg for a grounded kick. Barnabas doubled over, narrowly avoiding a faceplant into the wall. Gar launched himself up and drove one fist into Barnabas’ stomach.
Barnabas grunted in pain, but he didn’t lose his focus. He wrenched Gar’s fist before the Luvendi could withdraw it and used it to drag his opponent closer, directing a flurry of blows at Gar’s relatively unprotected torso and head with his free hand.
Gar, not to be outdone, swept his foot behind Barnabas’ even as the punches landed, and the two crashed onto the mats with a series of thuds that made Jeltor pulse in sympathetic pain.
They grappled, and their movement was so fast that Jeltor could hardly decipher the intricacies of it. He tried to assess it regarding their skeletal structure and musculature, but once he’d managed to understand how a particular move was made, he had invariably missed a few others that were just as impressive.
“Shinigami, can you give me security footage of this later? Slowed way, way down?”
Shinigami projected herself into the room next to Jeltor. “Why?” she asked curiously.
“Because I don’t understand any of it, but it’s fascinating.” Jeltor waved one mechanical hand at the proceedings. The two were circling one another again. “I’m beginning to think that Jotuns should learn to fight physically as a method of training for space battles.”
“That’s an interesting thought.” Shinigami considered. “I can definitely get you the footage. It must be hard to break down into useful data. I can see why you’re struggling if you don’t have…” She gestured at her projected body. “You know, limbs.”
“I wish I could see how the nerve impulse
s are working,” Jeltor said wistfully. “Where do the movements originate? How do the muscles contract?”
“Heads!”
Jeltor only just managed to get sideways in time as Barnabas and Gar hurtled into the wall at high speed, crashing through Shinigami’s hologram. Both of them, Jeltor noted with amusement, hunched over to try not to smash into her too hard. Instinct was a powerful thing.
Shinigami also found it amusing. She cackled and projected herself hovering cross-legged over the center of the mats.
“Rude,” she called down. “Make it up to me by fighting for my amusement.”
Barnabas glared at her, which gave Gar a good opening to punch him in the face. Barnabas responded with a flurry of kicks. He laid his torso back and lashed out with his heel, the top of his foot, and finally—picking his torso up slightly—punched his foot forward to send Gar flying.
Barnabas recovered a little inelegantly.
“Oof,” Gar grunted from the other side of the room. He pushed himself up with a woebegone look. “Just a moment. I need some water.”
Barnabas nodded. He looked quietly smug, as Jeltor had noticed he often did when he had done something sneaky.
Shinigami cocked her head to the side. “I’ve finished up an analysis on the Yennai cloaking if you want to give it a look, Jeltor. Between the Jotuns’ cloaking and what the Yennai ships seem to have, we should be able to secure a significant advantage in that battle.”
“I like the sound of that.” Jeltor nodded to Barnabas and Gar and clanked off down the hall.
“You kids play nice,” Shinigami said before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
“Why the smoke?” Gar asked. He stared up at the space where she disappeared.
“It’s how genies appear and disappear. With lamps.”
“Lamps?”
“Yes, because you rub the lamp and… This is going to take a lot of explaining. Genies are magic spirits who hide inside everyday objects, such as an oil lamp, and can be summoned out. They appear in a puff of smoke.” Barnabas looked at Gar’s awestruck face and remembered the most important factor. “Also, they aren’t real. It’s a myth.”
“Oh.” Gar rubbed his head. “I thought I was going mad.”
“No, no,” Barnabas assured him hastily. He started stretching again. “So, how have you been? There hasn’t been much time to debrief since we encountered the Yennai Corporation and—”
Gar pushed himself up on his elbows. His eyes were narrowed. “Shinigami told you. Or was it Tafa?”
“I noticed you were a bit subdued,” Barnabas admitted. “Shinigami mentioned you were processing some things.”
“You could say that.” Gar looked down at his hands. It was still incredible to him that he could use them as weapons. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be weak, and what it means to be strong.”
Barnabas took a seat on a pile of mats, his brows raised.
“I hated weak people for a long time,” Gar explained. “Myself included. Weak people were vulnerable. They needed to be protected. I didn’t realize that I should hate the people who hurt them.”
Barnabas waited.
“And then I realized that it didn’t matter how I felt about any of it,” Gar said finally. “I just had to do the right thing. That’s been very…liberating.”
Barnabas considered this, intrigued. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “You don’t have to feel any particular way, you simply have to do the right thing. I like that. I like it a lot.”
Gar smiled. “You do the right things for the right reasons, though. Someday, I hope to do that.”
To his surprise, Barnabas started laughing.
“You’re giving me far, far too much credit,” the man said. “Gar, you forget how old I am.”
“Old.” Shinigami’s voice echoed around the gym.
“Yes, thank you, Shinigami.” He gave Gar a wry look. “She’s right, you know. I’ve had centuries to make mistakes—and, most importantly, learn when not to say anything, so I appear mysterious and profound.”
“I KNEW IT.”
“Don’t you have military schematics to be discussing?”
“I’m doing that, too,” Shinigami said airily. “I just wanted to say I totally called that. I knew you weren’t all that wise.”
“I have legitimately learned some things, you know.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. You want some real talk, Gar? Every twenty-five years or so, sometimes less, most sentient species have a total crisis and wonder if they’ve messed up their lives.”
“Really?” Gar looked intrigued. “I suppose that does track. So that just never gets better, then?”
“I’m afraid not. Be warned, though. Now that you’re here, if you ever get excessively emo about it and start playing meaningful songs and cutting your hair differently—or whatever it is Luvendi do—I will mock you. I say this as a friend who cares about you. I will mock you. A lot.”
“Thank you, Shinigami.” Barnabas gave a wry smile at the speakers then looked back at Gar. “She has a point, however. I hope you don’t take it too much to heart, all this turmoil. It’s good to question what you’re doing and why. It’s not good to wallow in it.”
“No wallowing. Right.” Gar picked himself up. “How long do we have before we reach High Tortuga?”
“Not too long.” Barnabas pulled his armor from a nearby cabinet.
“I thought this was going to be entirely a space battle,” Gar said, confused.
“I prefer to wear armor anyway. It helps me…get in the mood.” Barnabas smiled.
“Some men light candles and play jazz,” Shinigami commented.
“Shinigami, if I ever do that before a battle, you have permission to smack me.”
She chortled. “I’ll remind you of that.”
Tik’ta had nearly fallen asleep when the computer dinged loudly. She jerked, fell off her seat, and swore as she wound up on the floor in a clatter of scales.
She peeked up over the side of the desk, and her eyes widened.
“Zinqued!” She scrabbled for her radio and couldn’t find it. She must have knocked it off the desk when she fell. She shouted down the hall that led to the living quarters. “Zinqued!”
She was typing in coordinates with a feverish intensity when he arrived, the rest of the crew at his heels.
“What is it?”
“I found them.” Tik’ta gave him a sharp-toothed grin. “I found the Yennai fleet, and they’re not too far away. They’re heading for battle now, and you’re never going to believe where they’re going.”
The crew all looked at one another.
“Where?” Zinqued finally asked.
“Devon,” Tik’ta announced. “That’s where Barnabas first started out, and he’s been hunting down everyone who knows where it is. I tried to find it, but they’d changed the records in every database I could get my hands on.”
“Why did you want to go there?” Dretkalor asked.
“I wanted to know what was going on there,” Tik’ta said. “If they’re going to so much trouble to hide it…”
Everyone nodded.
“Anyway, the Yennai fleet discovered where it is, and they’re on their way.”
“It’s going to be a smoking wreck by the time they’re done with it,” Dretkalor said.
“Yep.” Tik’ta looked almost pleased. “Surrounded by a debris cloud full of Yennai ships, human ships, Jotun ships…”
In a flash, Zinqued realized where she was going with this. “We’ll be getting a bigger haul than we expected.”
“Way bigger.” She looked incredibly pleased. “When the smoke clears, we’re going to have the best ship in the sector—and plenty of tech we can sell.”
Everyone’s faces settled into looks of gleeful anticipation. The way Dretkalor’s hands moved, he was dreaming about guns. Chofal gazed back at the engine room with a look of dreamy happiness on her face. Zinqued had closed his eyes, and Tik’ta gu
essed he was picturing himself on the bridge of a gleaming new ship.
“I’m laying in a course for the Yennai fleet,” she told them all. “Get ready. We’re now the crew of the Yennai frigate Haron’s Shield.” She sighed. “I’m not sure we’ll arrive before them, though. I hoped we would.”
Zinqued laughed. He couldn’t help it. He was giddy, and he couldn’t picture anything bringing him down. “Maybe it’ll be better to get there a little late,” he pointed out. “We’ll have an idea of how the battle’s going, and any major surprises will already have happened.”
“Good point.” Tik’ta nodded. “You know, I did always want to see Devon. Guess that dream’s down the toilet. I like this one better, though.”
She swung back to her console and guided the ship to full acceleration.
Not long now, and they’d have everything they ever wanted.
25
Lotar had paced the junior officers’ bunks for most of the day. The rest of them, caught between envy and anticipation, didn’t waste much time on him. No one, it seemed, wanted to speak to him anymore.
He wished they would, but what was he going to say? He couldn’t admit that he felt bad about what was going to happen.
They’d be only too glad to pass along to Koel that Lotar thought he was a mass-murdering psychopath.
If Lotar had just had the sense to keep his mouth shut, they’d be headed for the Jotun fleet, and all the civilians on Devon—or High Tortuga, or whatever the humans called it now—would be safe.
But he kept reliving the moment of Koel’s happiness. When Lotar had given him a good suggestion, Koel had been quite pleased, indeed.
It still made Lotar shiver. He knew beyond a doubt that he would do the same thing again. It gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but also the feeling of terrible rightness. He had always excelled at finding patterns.
