Sentinel

by Natalie Grey

  It was a flowery sentiment that he did not entirely believe, but he was interested to see how Fedden and his second-in-command would describe their problem with Barnabas.

  Because Gar was very sure that was the matter they wanted help with.

  He made his way as quickly as possible to the main level, avoiding the temptation to detour down back hallways. If there was trouble, he should make it as difficult as possible for anything unfortunate to happen to him.

  He was back at the docks soon, showing his ID to a very disinterested security guard. Apparently there wasn’t a fight yet, then. What was all this about?

  He tapped his communications unit. “Shinigami, can we—”

  It buzzed: Text only.

  Gar sighed and began typing: What’s wrong?

  There are several people who I believe are trying to steal the ship. They’re setting up some equipment near me and they have someone keeping watch for guards.

  Gar felt a stab of alarm. Why haven’t you called Barnabas in?

  He’s getting some information right now. I didn’t want to disturb him.

  I really think he’d want you to tell him about this!

  Fine, it’s a bet. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you’d scare them off. I don’t want to let them know I’m on board.

  Gar gave a sigh. She seemed to have forgotten the particulars of their situation.

  Are you still there? Shinigami asked. Now would be best for an intervention.

  I’m a Luvendi, Gar typed back, annoyed. I’m not going to intimidate anyone, and I can’t let this turn into a fight. They aren’t mercenaries, so I can’t hire them. What do you want me to do?

  Think of something! Steal a security uniform.

  Again, there is one of me, and I’m Luvendi. Luvendi never work security.

  This is a nightmare. Why haven’t you people turned into brains in jars at this point if your bodies are so useless?

  That is incredibly insulting. Just because I can’t fight doesn’t make me useless. Silence was his only answer, and Gar sighed. Fine. I’ll think of something. But for the record, I think we’d still be better off getting Barnabas back.

  He sank down onto a bench and racked his brain. How the hell did you convince a bunch of people who were already stealing a ship that a lone Luvendi was dangerous enough to fear?

  He was so engaged in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the security cameras of the nearby Gruwa trained right on him.

  In the alcove of the bar two stories up Fedden drained his glass and smiled. Even the burn of the terrible liquor did nothing to dull his mood.

  Things had been unsettled lately in the syndicate. Their leader Crallus had always been useless in Fedden’s opinion, but lately he’d started getting on their cases more, too. He wanted to know every detail of every job, and he never said why when he was asked.

  When Jutkelon sent a message from Devon, Crallus had made it a point to send three ships. It was a big show—“Fucking overkill,” Fedden had said several times to his second-in-command—and Crallus had gone on and on and fucking on about how he was sending his three best ships.

  Well, the joke was on him, because all three ships had been blown out of orbit without so much as a chance to send a distress signal, and now Crallus was scrambling to get information. He’d promised a bounty to any ship that dropped what they were doing and found out more about the ship from Devon. It was a human ship named Shinigami. Apparently no one knew who flew it.

  But Fedden might just have an in to get those details now. That Luvendi had no idea how valuable his knowledge might be, but if he’d spoken to Jutkelon in the last few weeks, he might very well know the name of the human who’d been a thorn in Jutkelon’s side.

  Fedden was going to bring the Luvendi in, get his information, and make Crallus show how much he wanted it in cold hard cash.

  “Send a message to this channel,” he instructed Tagurn. He passed over the card with the source address. It didn’t give much away about who the person might be, which Fedden supposed made sense for a slaver from Devon. “Tell him to meet us at the base and we’ll talk details. We’ll make Crallus pay for the information, then we’ll go take a contract with this guy. If he wants to set up mines, he’ll need a lot of guards.” He smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “Our luck is turning around.”

  “Captain?” Tik’ta’s voice came over Klafk’tin’s earpiece. “We may have a problem.”

  “Yes? What is it?” Klafk’tin’s voice was jovial. He was in a fairly good mood and decided not to let any impending problems sour it.

  “One of the crew members of the Shinigami is back in the docking bay.”

  “What?” Klafk’tin looked around and cursed. He should have known at least one of them would come back before too long. It had been stupid to leave the ship unattended so far. “Where are they?”

  “He’s just sitting on a bench near the checkpoint.”

  Klafk’tin relaxed fractionally and gave an annoyed sigh. “Then why are you bothering me?”

  “Because I don’t know what he’s up to.” Tik’ta’s voice was clipped now. “If he gets closer, he’s only a couple of moments’ walk from being able to see you. I thought it might be relevant to your planning.”

  Klafk’tin threw an annoyed glance in the direction of the Gruwa. Tik’ta was a very competent pilot, but she had never been very polite. She didn’t do anything he could specifically point to as rude, but during moments like these he could sense she didn’t think much of his leadership.

  He resolved to speak to her about that—right after he stole this ship. After all, she’d probably be more compliant if faced with the choice between continuing to fly the Gruwa and getting to pilot the Shinigami instead. He’d seen her salivating over those engines.

  “On the double,” he snapped to his crew. “We may have company soon. Get the doors open now.”

  Wohva gave him an annoyed look but didn’t say anything. She was a very good electrical engineer, and Klafk’tin knew she was worth far more than he paid her. The thing was, without any experience, she couldn’t prove that to the captains of any bigger ships. He should probably raise her salary if they got this ship.

  When they got this ship.

  It was as good as theirs now. One solitary crew member was hardly going to stand between them and taking it. A bullet, a bribe to the security guard…

  Yes, it would be easy enough to accomplish.

  “Captain, the doors should be open in a moment.” Wohva put her tools down and turned them off carefully.

  Klafk’tin gave an impatient sigh. Now was not the time for safety protocols.

  Wohva ignored him. She typed a command into the tiny box she had linked up with the doors and smiled in satisfaction when they slid open. She nodded to Klafk’tin.

  “The ship is yours.”

  Gar sat up suddenly. I have an idea, he typed. It’s risky, but right now it’s all I can think of if you are certain we shouldn’t expose your presence.

  He explained, and Shinigami barely hesitated.

  I like it. Get ready.

  “Captain.” Wohva and the rest stood back.

  Klafk’tin took a moment to admire the hull. A perfect ship, just begging for someone to steal it. With it docked at a station and totally unattended, its weapons were useless. Now he just needed to do one last thing.

  “Harrdrack.” He nodded to the surly Shrillexian. “Make sure they don’t have any booby-traps in place.”

  He didn’t like Harrdrack much. Like every Shrillexian Klafk’tin had ever met Harrdrack enjoyed fighting, so he had signed on at a reasonable price, but he wasn’t careful and he was prone to disobeying orders.

  Now he barely even grunted when he headed up the gangway. He passed Wohva and Klafk’tin and stepped into the interior of the ship.

  Or he would have if the doors hadn’t slammed shut with a crunch of bones and a spurt of blood.

  Wohva screamed and clapped a hand over her mouth and Klafk’
tin looked away in distaste. He had warned Harrdrack that there might be booby-traps, and the male still hadn’t been careful. Had there been a tripwire hidden beneath the doors, perhaps? Or maybe—

  “Captain!” It was Tik’ta’s voice.

  But she was too late. “Hello,” a smooth voice said from some distance away. Klafk’tin turned, and his jaw dropped open.

  A Luvendi? Really?

  Gar was praying to every deity he’d ever heard of, including the strange amorphous one Barnabas had mentioned a few times. Underneath the robes, his body was drenched in sweat and both of his hearts were beating erratically and so fast he thought they might burst.

  “I see you’re trying to steal my ship.” He tried to speak the way Barnabas did; as if he weren’t afraid of anything. “As you can see, you’ve made a mistake. Nevertheless, given that you’ve paid for it—” he looked at the doors and forced himself not to look too nauseated as he gestured to his communications unit, pretending he had orchestrated the doors snapping shut, “I will give you one chance to walk away.”

  For a moment, he had them. They wavered and looked at one another nervously. Gar sighed and pretended to wait patiently. Please let them walk away, please let them walk away…

  Then their leader pulled a gun. “I have twenty more crew members.” He grinned nastily. “You probably don’t have that many booby-traps. I’ll get your ship with or without you.”

  The crew gave him an incredulous look and Gar’s stomach seemed to drop out of his torso. If they couldn’t get in, they couldn’t get him to the medical Pods. If he got shot now he was going to die.

  Barnabas stepped out of the shadows at the other end of the hangar, “You know, that really isn’t the best way to boost your crew’s morale.”

  5

  Barnabas’ eyes swept the scene. Gar stood strong. Barnabas had to hand it to him; the Luvendi was bluffing very well. He seemed for all the world to be unafraid of the gun pointed at him. If Barnabas hadn’t known better he might have believed that Gar had booby-trapped the Shinigami himself.

  But Barnabas did know better, because he knew Shinigami. Smashing someone between the doors when they had let their guard down had her rather distinctive flair.

  He was also pleased to note that his choice to come directly back to the shuttle bay rather than speak to Mustafee Boreir had been the correct one. With a name and a window into their data streams, Shinigami could get good information with or without Barnabas talking to the Yofu.

  That was, if she didn’t get stolen—as these people were clearly trying to do.

  “Who are you?” an alien asked. He was a species Barnabas didn’t recognize, very broad-shouldered but not tall. There was a faint greenish cast to his skin if one looked closely.

  “I am Barnabas.”

  “That name means nothing to me.” The alien sneered.

  “It doesn’t have to,” Barnabas told him. “It’s not the important part of what’s about to happen.”

  “Which is?” The alien looked at his crew with a contemptuous smile.

  None of them smiled back. They’d all heard him say they were expendable and they clearly weren’t very happy with him right now.

  “You should start with an apology to your crew,” Barnabas stated gravely. He linked his hands behind his back and strolled closer.

  “For what?”

  Barnabas said a silent prayer for patience. This alien really was remarkably dim-witted.

  “For saying that you would use them to check for booby-traps,” he explained patiently. “Surely that is not in their job description. It is also a horrendous way to treat one’s crew.”

  “It’s their job if I say it’s their job.” The alien scoffed. “I am Klafk’tin, captain of the Gruwa, and my crew does what I tell them to do!”

  “I see.” Barnabas glanced at the sullen faces of the crew. None of them looked happy about his words, but none of them were mutinying either. That was disappointing. “We’re still going to start with an apology.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.” Barnabas allowed a hint of command to enter his voice.

  “Listen,” Klafk’tin told him, “you humans might think you’re real special, with your Empress and your technology, but you aren’t any better than anyone else.”

  “She’s not the Empress anymore, but I quite agree,” Barnabas responded equably. “The measure of a person is in their actions, not in their species. Why, some of the most distinguished members of the former Etheric Empire were Yollin.”

  Klafk’tin glared at him. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. What did you think we were talking about?”

  “About you backing off and giving me the ship that I rightfully took off your hands!”

  “’Rightfully?’” Barnabas frowned. “That doesn’t sound correct. And you still haven’t apologized.”

  “I’m not going to! I’m not some Yollin you can just order around!”

  “You mean that you’re not someone like your crew, who you feel perfectly justified in ordering around.” Barnabas shook his head. “You have no idea of the concept of power, do you? To you, it simply means that others must do as you say and you do not need to give them anything in return. Would that be correct?”

  “Yes.” Klafk’tin glared, then saw the expressions on his crew’s faces. “I give ‘em wages,” he told Barnabas. “There’s lodging.”

  “Wages and a place to sleep inside the ship sounds like the bare minimum expected of an employer,” Barnabas observed. “You’ve miscalculated, Klafk’tin.”

  “Oh? And how’s that?”

  “I am not a member of your crew.” Barnabas allowed his voice to deepen as he strode forward. “I do not take orders from you.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and shrugged out of it, throwing it neatly over a nearby crate. There was no reason to treat such a fine suit disrespectfully, after all. With his Jean Dukes Specials holstered but now visible, he continued toward Klafk’tin with a dangerous smile. “And you just tried to steal my ship.”

  Klafk’tin swiveled to point his gun at Barnabas. “As soon as you’re dead, I did steal your ship.”

  Barnabas moved in a blur and there was a crack, a scream, and a clatter as Klafk’tin’s gun fell uselessly to the ground. Barnabas kicked it away as the alien stumbled back clutching his lower arm, which seemed to be useless below the elbow.

  Barnabas smiled coldly. “Whatever you are, apparently your elbows lock. Convenient.” He adjusted his cuffs. “This is your last chance, Klafk’tin. Apologize to your crew and step aside so that another and more deserving member of the crew may take your place as captain.”

  “Someone shoot him!” Klafk’tin stumbled backward. His face was a shade that, whatever his species, was clearly not healthy. “One of you!”

  “They’re not helping you,” Barnabas observed. “Why do you think that is?”

  Klafk’tin bared his teeth at Barnabas in a snarl.

  HA! Shinigami didn’t try to hide her amusement. You should really snarl back, your teeth are much more impressive.

  I prefer to reserve that for special moments. By the way, we’re going to have a talk about what you think is important enough to tell me about.

  Noted.

  Barnabas stared at Klafk’tin. “No answer? Very well, then. Klafk’tin, you are relieved of your command of the Gruwa. You who were once part of his crew may do as you like. Pick a new captain if you want, but stop taking things that are not yours. Is that clear?”

  They nodded, wide-eyed and silent. None of them seemed to know what to say.

  “Fine!” Klafk’tin snarled. He stumbled a few steps and grabbed his gun with his working hand. “If none of you will shoot this bastard, I will!”

  “I wouldn’t,” Barnabas warned.

  Klafk’tin gritted his teeth in concentration and swung his good arm with the pistol shaking at the end of it.

  They never saw Barnabas’ hands move, but there was the di
stinctive crack-boom of a Jean Dukes Special and Klafk’tin’s body was thrown across the shuttle bay into a pile of crates.

  Barnabas looked at the body. He looked at the gun. He looked back at the body.

  What ammo was I using?

  Oh, did I forget to mention? There’s a note from Jean for you in the armory.

  You were just waiting to see how long it took me to notice, weren’t you?

  I thought it would be a fun surprise. It’s impressive, isn’t it?

  Barnabas holstered the weapon and looked around himself. “Are there any questions?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Who do you think should be put in charge?” he asked.

  Everyone looked back to the Gruwa, where an alien was standing on the gangway. From her coloring and build Barnabas guessed she was the same species as Klafk’tin.

  To her credit, she had the courage to walk across the bay to the Shinigami. She looked down at Klafk’tin’s body, but apart from a faint tightening of her lips she did not react to his death.

  “The crew seems to think you will be in charge after this,” Barnabas told her.

  “I probably will.” She swallowed. “I am Tik’ta. Is there any further business you have with us?”

  “I assume you heard my instruction to stop stealing ships.”

  She nodded. “I did.”

  “Would you care to explain why you were here, working with such a captain?”

  “Employment is employment, and there’s not enough of it to go around.” She did not sugarcoat her words. “We draw the line at murder—you saw that no one shot at you even when Klafk’tin ordered it—but stealing?” She shrugged. “Still, if you say not to do it again, we won’t. I don’t want to get on your bad side.”

  “I’ll take it,” Barnabas remarked drily. “Now go. And spread the word, if ever it comes up, that the Shinigami is well-defended.”

  Tik’ta’s lips quirked and for a moment he thought she might argue, but instead she nodded and jerked her head at the crew, who followed her back across the docking bay to the Gruwa. They stopped to pick up Klafk’tin’s body. Barnabas noticed that no one seemed to do any particular grieving over it.