Sentinel

by Natalie Grey

  He shook his head and headed up the stairs to the doors.

  I don’t suppose you have some way to clean these.

  Not really, no.

  I’ll call a deck crew, then…and tip them very heavily.

  Gar had come to stand next to Barnabas and he stared at the remains of the Shrillexian. “Klafk’tin clearly knew the ship might be booby-trapped,” he commented finally. “He sent the Shrillexian in first on purpose.”

  “Yes.” Barnabas headed back down the gangway to get his jacket. “The universe hasn’t lost very much now that he’s dead, I think. Good thinking on your feet back there. If their captain hadn’t been so devoted to taking anything he could and killing anyone who stood in his way you might have won that one.”

  Gar’s look was more than a little bit frustrated. “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Barnabas’ eyebrows went up in surprise.

  “You said you thought I might have won that one. Did it occur to you that if I had lost I would be dead? I’m not as resilient as you are. You can take bullets and keep walking, and you heal almost instantly. You and Shinigami talk about coming up with plans as if no matter what happens we’ll all survive, but I might not. Shinigami, open the doors, please.” Gar lifted his robes up and stepped over the mess on the coaming without looking at it and disappeared without waiting for a reply.

  He has a point, you know.

  Barnabas made a face. Do you think he should be upgraded? Now, when we still do not entirely understand his motivations?

  If you ask me, I don’t think even he understands his motivations. And no. But he’s correct that we shouldn’t be making plans as if he were another Ranger.

  Barnabas sighed. Have you called the deck crew?

  Yes. Don’t change the subject.

  What do you think we should do, then? Barnabas put his suit jacket back on and leaned against one of the crates.

  I told you. Start planning as if we only have the two of us for combat.

  The one of us for combat.

  How many times do I have to mention the flamethrower?

  Barnabas pushed himself up and paced around the deck, considering.

  Shinigami was correct, and so was Gar. Gar could have died on this mission. In fact, he nearly had died twice. Despite that he had yet to back down, and he hadn’t tried to weasel his way out of anything. In fact…

  A thought occurred to Barnabas and he narrowed his eyes.

  Shinigami, did Gar tell you at any point that he refused to help you against those people?

  No. He told me it was a risk to him, but he accepted it when I said it was important.

  Barnabas nodded. Gar had not gone running to Barnabas, nor had he turned tail and fled. He hadn’t tried to make a deal with anyone unsavory, either.

  Despite himself, Barnabas smiled. Gar was already miles different from the man he had been when Barnabas first met him, and so far the changes were good. Barnabas was intrigued to see what would happen in the future.

  However, he first had to deal with a deck crew that was going to be deeply upset and then a station manager who wasn’t likely to be any happier. It would be hours before he could get back to the bar. Maybe he should ask Gar to handle this part?

  Shinigami, is Mustafee Boreir still at the bar?

  No, he left not long after you spoke to the guard. The owner of the bar came out to speak to him and he went straight to his ship. They seem to have known you were a threat, but I have no idea how.

  Barnabas’ eyes narrowed. Why would the guard immediately assume Barnabas was someone a munitions dealer should run away from rather than treating him as a prospective client?

  This definitely required more information.

  With a sigh, he buttoned his suit jacket, put on his most winning smile, and waited for the bureaucrats to arrive.

  6

  Gar appeared in the doorway of the main lounge area a while later. When he saw the chessboard and the holographic projection of Baba Yaga he started to back out of the room at once.

  “I’ll come back.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Barnabas assured him. “We haven’t started playing yet.”

  “Which means Barnabas hasn’t pissed me off just yet.” The holographic projection smiled. By now, Shinigami had begun moving her lips when she spoke.

  Unfortunately, she had also started sometimes making her voice come out of every speaker, not just the one on the chair, which had the effect of making the whole thing incredibly unsettling. Shinigami liked to say it was like being a god, mostly because it made Barnabas wince.

  Barnabas gave her a look now. “It means Shinigami hasn’t pissed me off,” he corrected and tilted his head at Gar. “What did you want to discuss?”

  “I heard from Fedden.” Gar hovered in the doorway, clearly ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. “He gave me the coordinates for a moon called Zahal. It’s in the Adhira system, the first moon around the second planet out. The only problem is…”

  “He doesn’t yet know you will arrive on the ship that took out his colleagues?” Barnabas guessed.

  “Yes, that.”

  “And you’re wondering how we’re going to dock without him figuring it out?”

  “Also that.”

  “I’ll consider some strategies. You do the same.” Barnabas began to roll up his sleeves. “For now, you should probably leave if you don’t want to be part of the fight.” Gar left with a swish and a flick of his robes, and Barnabas smiled across the board at Shinigami. “First move?”

  “I’d insist on a coin toss if I hadn’t found that coin you made that has two heads.” She slid a piece out.

  “I wouldn’t have had to make it if you hadn’t clearly rigged the coin flip algorithm you were using.” Barnabas gave her a long look and considered the board.

  “Make a move, already. I swear you do this to drive me mad.”

  “Is it working? Are your servers melting?”

  “I’m far more resilient than that.”

  “I’ll just need to try harder, then. Would you like some tea?” He stood up and went over to the little half-kitchen beside the couch. “And don’t even think of tampering with the board while I’m gone.”

  He looked over in time to see it fuzz as several pieces moved hastily back into place, after which Shinigami sat in sullen silence until he returned. Barnabas set a cup at her elbow.

  “What is this for?”

  “You wish to behave more like a human, and this will enhance the illusion. Also, it’s polite—although it’s actually just a cup of hot water. One has to draw the line somewhere.”

  “You were already being insane.” Shinigami narrowed her eyes at a piece on the board which suddenly moved of its own accord. “Are you doing that with your mind? What, are you trying to convince someone who comes in here that you’re the holograph and I’m the real one?”

  “Think of the havoc we could wreak,” Barnabas suggested. He took a sip of tea and smiled at Shinigami over the rim.

  She tilted her head to the side, intrigued. “When would someone be on the ship?”

  “Well, someone tried to steal it recently. We could start there. Perhaps at some point, someone sneaks onto the ship, sees me lit like a projection, gets scared by someone they think is real—you’d be wearing armor in this scenario—and… What are you smiling at?”

  “Most of your plans center around deception. It’s an interesting character aspect in someone who is otherwise so morally ironclad.”

  “It is not… Oh, very well. Ploys. Tricks.”

  “Which are?”

  “Morally equivalent to lying.” Barnabas took another sip of tea somewhat grumpily. “Are you going to move?”

  “I’m considering. Also, I wanted to see how long it would take you to ask about it.” She switched to mental speech. Have you given any more thought to what we should do with Gar?

  Some. He watched as she finally made her move and went through
the now-familiar habit of checking the board from multiple angles to make sure she’d moved the piece he thought she had. Both of them had tried variants on that trick recently and now Barnabas wore a special pair of glasses while playing.

  He never left them unattended.

  You aren’t suggesting anything, she pressed. Does that mean you’re at a loss?

  He nodded and sighed, then took another sip of tea. This is very good. Where did we get it?

  Carter was able to acquire some of it. It’s an herb the Ubuara use for seasoning. It has mild hallucinogenic properties, by the way. Are you seeing anything strange?

  Well, you don’t seem to be cheating yet. Does that count?

  She flashed him a smile. I didn’t bother to mention it because I assumed your nanocytes would take care of the more unusual aspects of the herb.

  They are. You should probably warn Gar, though. Although…I wonder if that’s why he spent all of last evening staring at his hands?

  From Shinigami’s sudden silence, Barnabas had the sneaking suspicion he was correct. His mouth twitched slightly. Gar had been such a quiet shipmate that Barnabas had assumed what he was seeing was some form of meditation.

  Apparently, he had been wrong.

  You should probably mention it to him before he does it again.

  It would be more fun if—

  Shinigami.

  Fine. You with your ethics and your moral equivalence and your… I’ll come up with a third thing, just give me a moment. She frowned at Barnabas’ move. That’s what you’re going with? Really?

  Barnabas frowned back. Since trash talk is a time-honored part of competition I won’t outright ban you from using it, but I really do find it a waste.

  She made her move without any further comment on that score. So, the way I see it, we have a bit of a problem. If we want to get more information out of Fedden without him catching on to who Gar is working for, we need to send Gar in alone. We should also find some way to mask my identity so that they don’t figure it all out.

  I could just fight my way past Fedden’s crew and take the information out of his head. That would tip our hand somewhat, though, don’t you think?

  Yes, but Gar had a good point that he’s rather…breakable. Barnabas made a move and wondered if Shinigami had figured it out yet. Her self-imposed limit of looking at probabilities only ten turns ahead meant that he had begun building strategies that hinged on twenty or thirty moves. It was an interesting exercise, and one that required a lot of improvisation.

  He enjoyed it a surprising amount.

  In fact, he enjoyed the entire process of the game they played around their game. Both he and Shinigami understood implicitly that in this battle of wits there was only one real goal: surprise the other person. Barnabas had opened by playing a game he didn’t intend to win and had continued with board modifications. Shinigami had retaliated rather spectacularly by making the board zap him every time he touched it, as well as by splitting the holographs so that each piece appeared in multiple places.

  Each used conversation to distract the other. Barnabas had succeeded more than once in capturing Shinigami’s attention with an interesting dilemma and then making his move while she was calculating probabilities and researching relevant background information. She, of course, had done much the same thing.

  Both Barnabas and Shinigami understood the same thing about strategy: there was no playing fair, and there were no givens. One’s opponent might have very different goals than expected, and might at any time decide to change the rules of engagement.

  Barnabas had an internal bet going with himself, wondering how long it would take before their games involved actual missiles.

  Poor Gar.

  Barnabas came to a decision after another minute. We’ll do a combination of operations. We’ll send Gar in and mask the ship—well, if he’s okay with that. At the same time, you will shut down outbound communications without them knowing about it. If things go south, I can clean up the place and we can go for their allies before anyone knows they’re dead.

  I like that. Shinigami nodded as she made her move. You can’t make that move, she added, when Barnabas moved his piece. There’s a piece there.

  There is not— Oh, son of a bitch. Did you change the color of your pieces? Also, they’re tiny now.

  Shinigami grinned. I look forward to your retaliation. I hope it will befit a worthy opponent.

  Barnabas narrowed his eyes at her. It would be a fitting retaliation. He just had to think of something first—something other than dumping his tea on the board and making it short out.

  He could keep that one in his back pocket as a last resort, though.

  Rald stepped out onto the bustle of the landing pad with a sigh of relief. Ignoring the shouted order to start unpacking cargo, he leaned his head back to feel the sunshine on his skin. After a week in that hellhole of a ship, he was about to go out of his mind.

  Apparently, the crews of the freighters were expected not to fight one another, not even for fun. Not even when the other person really deserved to get their face kicked in.

  It was ridiculous.

  He wanted a fight, and he wanted a drink. Ignoring yet more shouted orders, Rald picked up his pack and looked around for a transport.

  To his surprise, there wasn’t one. There was only a dusty road that led to the squalid bunch of buildings that comprised Tethra. The other passengers from the ship—very few, since it was difficult to get clearance to move to this place—had already set off on foot. The road wasn’t even paved, and in low places the surrounding swamp flooded it.

  There might be eels in the swamp. Rald licked his lips at the possibility. It had been a while since he’d had a proper eel. Nice and slithery—a true Shrillexian delicacy. No one prepared them correctly, though. They were best served raw. And alive.

  If there was no good food to eat in Tethra, he’d come back out here and try his luck.

  With a grumble, he hoisted his pack on his shoulder and frowned at the town. This was such a backwater that he wasn’t sure what Jutkelon had been doing here. Just because rich people had decided to claim towns in the middle of nowhere it didn’t make them good places to do business. What had Jutkelon seen in this place?

  When a nearby alien looked at him, Rald realized he’d been muttering aloud.

  “It’s not much to look at, is it?” the alien offered with a laugh. “But I hear they’ve got Coke.”

  “What is…’Coke?'”

  “It’s a fizzy drink. Humans make it. Damned good.” She nodded. “They do some things right, I’ll say that.”

  “Why are you here if you’re not a fan of humans?”

  “Eh.” She lifted her shoulders. “I’m curious, and my uncle was able to bring me here as part of his business. What about you?”

  “Just curious too. An old friend lived here. I figured I’d look him up.” Rald had a wave of inspiration. “He worked in the mines. Hated it there. Don’t know where he is, though.”

  “Well, if he hated it there you might find him at Aebura’s.” The alien nodded. “I hear that’s a place where they don’t like the mines very much.”

  Rald looked at her curiously.

  “There’s a division on Devon,” she told him frankly. “People who were on top before the humans came in versus people who are on top now. But it’s still a fight, and there are still some old grudges. I don’t care who wins; I’ll work with either. But if your friend didn’t like the mine owners, Aebura’s is a good place to start looking for him.”

  “Thank you.” Rald managed to force the words out, although his smile was a bit pained. He wished she hadn’t been so polite. He would have preferred a good brawl right about now.

  But maybe there would be a chance at the bar.

  A few minutes and some directions later he slid onto a stool and waited for the bartender to come out.

  “Coming!” A woman with blonde hair and warm brown eyes ran out of the kitchen. “Sorry, was ju
st cleaning up. What can I get for you?”

  “A Coke, if you have one.”

  “Coke or…” She waited.

  “Are there different kinds?”

  “Coke it is.” She started filling a glass with a dark liquid.

  Rald smiled at her. “You Aebura?”

  “No, Aebura doesn’t run this bar anymore.” The woman smiled at him and put down the cup, which was foaming at the top. “My name’s Elisa. How about you? New here?”

  Rald smiled. “Just here briefly.”

  But he would be here long enough—long enough to make a lot of people very sorry.

  7

  Carter perched precariously on a wall at the edge of Tethra and shook the dice. He rolled them onto the wall and groaned as Oemuga hopped with joy.

  “Twenty more to me!” The Ubuara gleefully relieved Carter of some of his chips. “Today is not your day, my friend.”

  Carter shook his head and chuckled. He wanted to get to know his employees and their friends, so he had begun playing dice with the Ubuara during his breaks. Games of pure chance usually weren’t his style, but since the Ubuara could sense one another’s thoughts those were the only games they ever played.

  Luckily, they didn’t play for keeps. The set of chips was split at the beginning of the game, and whoever was ahead when everyone stopped won. The games were really just a way for the Ubuara to spend time together.

  Carter liked that. When he had come to High Tortuga, the young man in him had been excited by the idea of a town just getting off the ground; full of possibility…and maybe a little bit of danger. He’d lived a long life, but that part of him had never grown old. However, the husband and father in him didn’t want his family to be exposed to the type of violence that could be so pervasive in a lot of the less well-charted areas.

  Due both to the ethos of the original settlers and to Bethany Anne’s growing influence, Tethra was full of possibilities without the sort of desperate rivalries that usually formed in young cities. The citizens seemed to get along well enough, aside from the Luvendi at the edge of town—and they just kept to themselves as far as Carter could tell.