by Natalie Grey
He had sacrificed Avaris, the woman he loved most in the universe, for the future of the Yennai Corporation. He had named his flagship for her and remembered her fondly. How much more had he given up over the years as well? Reserves of cash, favors called in, ships and planets sacrificed, all for greater gains.
Now he’d lost the children, and he was certain he had never lost anything of more value than that. He would find a way to turn their deaths to his advantage.
He linked his hands behind his back and took a deep breath. For the first time in weeks, he felt like himself. Blind rage had driven him until now. He’d sought vengeance, not profit.
Finally, he was emerging from the fog.
He needed to keep a clear head. He had been willing to sacrifice Uleq to make Ilia stronger, so if he sacrificed them both…
He must, himself, become stronger. He would make use of this as he had made use of everything else. Had he not personally sacrificed Avaris?
Yes, this was an opportunity.
He went to his computers and started to research. Barnabas had given him a gift; Koel only needed to find it. He pored over information about the humans and their defeat of King Yoll, the abolition of the Yollin caste system, and their battles against the Leath and the Skaines…
It was well into the night before Koel sat back in his chair. The ship was down to its usual overnight skeleton crew, but he felt as fresh as if he had slept all night.
The power he had felt slipping away would be within his grasp again soon.
And this time, no humans would stand in his way.
6
“Shinigami,” Barnabas said. “Can you research something for me?”
“Sure. I’m just landing the ship and negotiating with the Jotun high command. Why not add something more?”
Barnabas glared. “You know very well that half the time when I ask, you get very snide about the fact that you have almost infinite processing capabilities and can do as many simultaneous tasks as you want. You can go with that or the whole put-upon act, but not both.”
“Why not? Meet me in the middle, here.”
“I am meeting you in the middle.” Barnabas cast an annoyed look at the speakers. “Neither of those is accurate. You get one lie. You can content yourself with the fact that it pains me.”
Shinigami’s avatar flickered into being, dressed in jeans and black Christian Louboutins. She smiled smugly. “That last part does help. So what was it you wanted to know?”
Barnabas had to pause to remember. “Ah, right. Why are the names of so many species so close to the names for their home planet?”
“Oh.” Shinigami nodded. “Most species’ names translate in the original language to ‘Earthers,’ or whatever the equivalent is. For the Jotuns and the Luvendi, it would be ‘Oceaners,’ for instance. Almost every planet is named some variant by the species who live there. When they go into space they tend to get named by the other races, using their home planet’s name. Humans are one of the only exceptions.”
“I wonder why that is?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say we distracted them by showing up with a Kurtherian-tech fleet. They didn’t spend any time coming up with nicknames for us after that.”
“I suppose that would do it.” Barnabas adjusted his cuffs. “Okay, next question. Will having either a Luvendi or a Yofu with me be good for this meeting, or should I go alone?”
Shinigami hummed slightly as she sorted through her data. “I’d say go alone. The Luvendi have a reputation as insular and money-grubbing bastards who will do anything to get ahead. The Yofu make good mechanics and have a fairly good relationship with the Jotuns, but unless you think Tafa is going to be a good diplomat, I wouldn’t bring her. At worst they’ll look down on her like hired help, and at best they’ll assume she’s your technical advisor and try to get her to spill details of your ship. Either way…”
“She’s right.” Tafa came around the corner with Gar. “The Jotuns are stuck-up bastards. Most people don’t know it, because they tend to keep their heads down. They only deal directly with merchants and don’t try to conquer planets or anything. Coyopa was different; no one wanted that place. But if you do deal with them a lot, you learn they think they’re better than everyone else.”
“Which would make Barnabas one of the few people they’ll treat with even a modicum of respect,” Gar agreed. “No one knows the extent of human capability, they just know it’s broad.”
“Hmm.” Barnabas nodded. “Well then, we’ll leave Gar and Tafa here.” He gave them all a hard look. “You remember the rules, right? You tell me if someone tries to steal the ship.”
There was a chorus of agreement and Barnabas narrowed his eyes. His team did not have a great track record when it came to reporting those things.
When he emerged onto the landing pad, it was a beautiful day on Jotuna. The landing pad was set a little ways back from the beach, but close enough that a sea breeze still stirred the air. Tall trees waved in the air, their bark ranging from brown to purple, and their brilliant pink and orange blooms nestled amongst the thick, glossy leaves.
There was a very faint clanking sound, and a Jotun in a powersuit made its way across the landing pad to speak to Barnabas.
“Ranger One, it is an honor.”
“Thank you,” Barnabas replied. “However, in the interests of accuracy, I must tell you that I am no longer Ranger One. I do not want to trade under the auspices of a government for which I no longer work.”
“You may not work for the former Etheric Empire any longer, but it would be foolish for us to assume that you are no longer a part of their organization,” the Jotun said simply. “No intelligence suggests you are no longer their ally. In fact, quite the opposite.”
It was a warning, which Barnabas accepted with a wry smile.
He suspected that they knew why he was here and wanted no part of it, but they’d have to try harder if they wanted to intimidate him…or get him to back off.
He returned the warning shot with an easy smile. “I believe Jeltor’s trial is in session. Take me there.”
They stared at one another for a moment, human and Jotun. I know more than you want me to, Barnabas’ expression said. Don’t make the mistake of treating this as a request.
The Jotun finally turned and led the way across the landing pad without a word. Barnabas wished again he could read Jotun facial expressions. He had spent enough time with Jeltor to have some ability to read Jotun thoughts, but they still came through confused and murky to him. Speaking with such featureless aliens showed him how much he was used to reading emotion from facial expression and posture as well as thoughts.
Barnabas had set down right next to the Jotun government offices, so they didn’t have far to walk. The Jotun led him along a spiral path into a subterranean building. Seawater had been channeled into raised glass-walled canals the Jotuns could swim through if they did not want to use the paths.
Barnabas understood that the Jotuns were proud of their powersuits and relished opportunities to use them.
Jeltor’s trial was taking place in what Shinigami had guessed were the main parliamentary chambers. They had puzzled over the structure and rules of the parliament and come up with the idea that it might be democratically elected—according to incredibly arcane rules that Shinigami had struggled to translate.
The room was shaped like a bowl, with an open space at the bottom for the speaker and row upon row of senators at desks that lined the sloping sides of the room. No one here used tanks. Instead, they wore powersuits. Barnabas wondered if that was so they were able to use things like voting mechanics, which might be more difficult from tanks without arms.
Still, the sea was represented here in little streams that ringed the floor of the speaking area and waterfalls that Barnabas heard rather than saw. The air smelled alive, and faintly of salt.
It would have been very pleasant if Jeltor hadn’t been standing in the middle of the bowl, clearly being grilled by
angry senators—who, in Barnabas’ considered opinion, had no right to question the Jotun’s methods or goals.
There was a stir when Barnabas appeared. He took full advantage of it and walked to Jeltor’s side.
“They have you on trial, then. What are the charges?”
“Treason,” one of the Jotun senators asserted.
“Is that so?” Barnabas arched a brow. His thoughts ranged between this being hyperbole and wondering if they were really so far up their own asses that they believed it.
“Yes,” Jeltor agreed simply.
Up their own asses, then.
“Explain the charges,” Barnabas ordered them. He pitched his voice to fill the whole room, then he waited.
One of the senators closest to the floor shifted in his powersuit. He seemed annoyed at Barnabas’ intrusion, but he was only too happy to list why he believed Jeltor was a traitor to the Jotuns.
“Commander Howauc is charged with unsanctioned aid to a military operation against an ally,” the senator said shrilly. “His actions directly resulted in the loss of a Jotun colony.”
“You refer to Coyopa,” Barnabas clarified.
“Yes.”
“I thought Koel Yennai’s actions led directly to the loss of Coyopa.”
There was an angry murmur and more mechanical squeaking from the senator. “He was, quite naturally, angered that one of our military personnel had helped assassinate his two children.”
“He killed thousands of unarmed civilians,” Barnabas shot back. “Additionally, I highly doubt that your legal code allows a corporation to be an ally. Furthermore, Jeltor had been captured by the Yennai Corporation and was being held so that he could be sold into slavery—an act of aggression against the Jotuns on the part of the Yennai Corporation. The fact that he participated in a fight of self-defense should not weigh against him.”
The senators started to mutter amongst themselves.
They were live-streaming the trial, Shinigami reported, but as soon as you started talking, they shut the cameras off.
Of course. You can’t have the common people hearing the truth.
Mmmhmm. Although I really should have said that they thought they shut the cameras off.
Shinigami, you’re priceless. I’m giving you a raise. What do AIs get paid in?
Robotic bodies.
NO.
“Regardless of any provocation,” the senator’s voice dripped with derision, “Commander Howauc engaged in an unsanctioned military exercise. He did not seek permission.”
“That is also incorrect,” Barnabas rebutted calmly. “He communicated several times with the Jotun high command.”
The senator laughed derisively. “And they are also on trial, Ranger One.”
“This is a farce.” Barnabas’ temper started to rise. “You know that the reason you are in this mess is that you failed to contain a threat to Jotun interests.”
“We are in this mess because Commander Howauc and his fellow officers betrayed our interests!” The senator slammed one mechanical hand on the table for emphasis.
Interesting, Shinigami commented. People in robot suits do that too. Who would have guessed?
I think he’s trying to be intimidating. Barnabas tried not to shake his head. And instead, he’s just a coward.
“Your interests were the bribes you took from the Yennai Corporation,” Barnabas accused. “You personally took several years’ worth of your salary in bribes this year alone, but you’ve been on their payroll for a decade, advancing their interests. You’re scared now that they’re angry, but ask yourself…why are they so strong in the first place? How did they get strong enough to destroy a colony, hmm?”
There was a ringing silence.
“Oh, yes,” Barnabas told them. “I know exactly what each of you has gotten from the Yennai Corporation. I know how you voted after you received that money, and I can prove it. So here’s my deal to all of you: I’m going to go destroy the Yennai Corporation. While I do that, you are going to halt this ridiculous trial excoriating Jeltor and the rest of the Navy. When I get back, if that demand has been met, I will consider going easier on you regarding the other demands I will make at that time.”
There was a pause.
“You do not get to make demands of us,” the senator blustered finally. “Someone must pay for—”
“Careful, senator.” Barnabas’ voice was cool, “or you just might end up being the person who pays. I can’t say I’d mind that. And let me tell you—if you’re betting that the Yennai Corporation will win and I won’t be able to ruin all your careers? You’re very, very wrong.”
He nodded to them, a clipped, angry motion, then strode for the door. At the edge of the room, however, he paused.
“And should I learn that anyone has come to harm as a result of this ridiculous trial, be it one of the accused or any member of their families, I will make sure every Jotun knows how you have profited from their pain.”
7
“It’s really the only way,” Barnabas said a few hours later. He leaned against the back wall of the conference room and chewed his lip as he examined the board. “Otherwise, he’ll certainly find some way to cause as much collateral damage as he can.”
“Are you sure about that?” Shinigami appeared, this time in a long black evening gown.
Barnabas blinked at her.
“I was just trying something.” She shrugged. “I don’t think I like it, though. It feels useless.”
“Sure. And the high heels you’ve been wearing are…functional, somehow?”
“A bold accusation from a man with several hats in his closet—which, I might add, he doesn’t even wear.”
“Because you would make fun of me,” Barnabas muttered under his breath. He gestured to the screens. “And yes, I am sure about Koel.”
“What does he gain from it, though?” Shinigami asked reasonably. She laid one arm along the back of the couch and curled her legs under her. A moment later, with a muttered expletive, she disappeared and returned in her armor. “Much better.”
“Although no more suited to the situation at hand,” Barnabas pointed out, amused.
“I like armor.”
“And you, unlike the rest of us, do not have to deal with the fact that it’s immensely uncomfortable to wear.”
“Yeah, I really like that part.” She grinned at him. “If there’s one thing Koel Yennai is good at, it’s profiting from events. Using them to his advantage. He’s not going to expend a bunch of munitions on random bystanders unless there’s a damned good reason to do it.”
“Well, for one thing, anyone even barely acquainted with me knows I hate the idea of innocents being hurt.” Barnabas raised his eyebrows. “So it stands to reason that he would try to hurt them to get back at me.”
“You’re being awfully self-centered.”
“I also poked a very vengeful bear with a stick, so to speak, to make him furious at me. First, I killed his children, then I taunted him about it. I am not coming off well in this conversation, am I?”
“Not very, no.”
Barnabas sank onto the other couch and shrugged. “If anyone asks about it, I’ll send them a list of Ilia’s accomplishments. I’d think that would win me a reprieve from most people.”
“Charming chip off the old block, that one.”
“Yes. And more to the point, when it comes to him, I think we may have made him more dangerous than we meant to.” Barnabas sighed and rubbed his head. “I wish we’d known more about him before we went to the base.”
“What d’you mean?”
“I mean that his legacy was everything to him. He’s an absolute sociopath. He was willing to have one of his children murder the other just to make her stronger so that she could run the company well when she took over from him.”
“Didn’t kings and queens on Earth do that?”
“That’s apocryphal, and the point of such things was just to determine which was the strongest, not… You know,
this is not important. It would be disturbing in any event. The point is that Koel Yennai is not entirely sane, has zero compunctions about hurting people, and we just took away the one thing he cared about.”
“That won’t stop him for long.” Tafa stood a bit awkwardly in the doorway. She looked at Shinigami and Barnabas. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Barnabas was surprised. So far, he had not attempted to include Tafa in any planning or discussion. She was on the ship while she decided what to do with her life, and mostly, she spent her time painting.
“You know Koel Yennai?” Shinigami asked dubiously. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, after all. Tafa’s cousin Mustafee Boreir had once been one of Koel’s employees.
Until Barnabas killed him.
Tafa gave them both a wry smile. “I don’t know Koel, but I knew people like him. Mustafee’s mother was very similar. She suffered a lot over the years that I knew her. She lost people she loved, she had setbacks in the business, and her husband left her, but she didn’t respond the way any normal person would. All of it became fuel to make her crueler and more vicious. Better at what she did. What she did to my parents would be a good example. It wasn’t that she didn’t love my father. She did. But she let his betrayal—or what she saw as a betrayal—forge her into something harder.”
Barnabas felt a chill as he looked at Tafa. She had been very young when her parents were taken away from her, and they had been tortured for years before they were finally executed. Tafa had grown up knowing that if she made one wrong move, she’d suffer the same fate.
The way she spoke so matter-of-factly about the event was jarring in the extreme.
“So you don’t think Koel will let this stop him?” Barnabas asked slowly.
“No. He won’t. He’ll find a way to make an example of you if he can, and then he’ll be even more powerful because everyone will be even more afraid of him.” Her voice changed, and she shuddered. “Don’t do this. Run and hide. He’s stronger than you are.”
Barnabas and Shinigami exchanged looks. Tafa had always been very calm and collected, and remarkably courageous when they considered what she had been through. Death didn’t seem to scare her very much.
