Sentinel

by Natalie Grey

  Gar could not speak for a moment, he was so touched.

  “I would be honored to be a part of the crew,” he told them finally.

  “Good, then it’s settled,” Shinigami enthused. “We’re thinking we’ll give you claws and make it so that you can breathe fire.”

  “What?”

  “Joking, joking. Your face was great, though. By the way, Barnabas, no further word from Tabitha yet. Would you like to send a message?”

  “She’d have sent an update if she had one,” Barnabas told her. He frowned. “See what you can find from the satellites. I don’t want to interrupt her, but I would like to know how it’s going.”

  “Give me a few moments.” Shinigami worked quickly, muttering to herself in the background as Gar and Barnabas headed toward the bridge.

  “You don’t have to be a part of the crew, you know,” Barnabas told Gar. “It’s only one possibility. You could stay here for a while doing…whatever you wanted, really.”

  “I know.” Gar shrugged, the latest human movement he’d unintentionally adopted. “I want to, though. I’ve had enough of spreadsheets and management. I want to be doing things.”

  Barnabas smiled at him.

  Power surged through the ship and they felt the engines kick into high gear. Both of them looked up, worried.

  “The initial group of mercenaries is dead,” Shinigami reported. “However, someone else must have been keeping tabs on the situation because they’re sending gunships—and these aren’t any of ours. Someone is determined to make those miners pay.”

  “I take it you think we can intercept them?” Barnabas’ hands had clenched when Shinigami told him what was happening.

  “Yep. Sending a message to Tabitha to tell her we’re on our way. Everyone strap in—we’re going in hot.”

  28

  Farfaldri Kat was not foolish.

  He had supported the Shrillexian, to a point. After all, a show of force made sense. Allowing the mine events to go unpunished would be bad for business in the long run, and Rald had done a good job of getting support.

  On the other hand, Jutkelon’s compound was still smoking a month or so later. Kat knew that anyone who could do that, or who could fight dozens of mercenaries on their own, would be more difficult to kill than Rald was anticipating.

  Had Rald not paid attention to the stories? This human had not had dozens of allies or a small army. He had taken on a small army.

  Singlehandedly.

  It was clear that Rald was intending to take a large number of mercenaries and charge in headfirst, so Kat simply sent in the hired gunships carrying the guards he’d sent to capture footage, sat back, and waited for the carnage to begin.

  Which was how, when that group of humans summarily slaughtered the entire group of mercenaries as he watched in horrified amazement, Kat could put another plan in motion. He called for the gunships to be loaded and move in.

  It was impressive, and it was too bad that humans did not seem likely to hire themselves out as mercenaries. They could clearly make their fortunes doing so if they chose.

  Humans were notorious for their refusal to submit. However, even humans could not avoid the missiles from five gunships.

  Soon this would be over and the point would have been made. Kat smiled thinly and settled back in his chair. This should be a good show.

  The Shinigami broke atmo with a hollow boom and streaked across the sky toward Tethra. Even with the ship’s fake registration, the approach was enough to get the attention of some of the satellites, and Shinigami spent a few moments trading increasingly arcane verification information with the EIs on the other side of the planet.

  They were going to make it, but just barely.

  Still, Shinigami reflected, that was better than it had been on Banton, where they’d arrived to find the colonists already captured.

  She opened a video channel to Tabitha. “Vigilante Enterprises here.”

  “Hey, Shinigami.” Tabitha grinned from the viewscreen. “So when’s the fireworks show starting? We’ve got snacks, we’ve got… Well, no beer, but we do have fruit juice. It’s surprisingly good.”

  “I told you,” Barnabas reminded her. “You said I was crazy.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve seen the light now. Anyway, what’s the word on the pretty explosions?”

  “You’ll see them very soon,” Shinigami promised. “It’s a delicate balance, getting them close enough to be visible but not so close that there’s any chance of shrapnel. Still, we at Vigilante Enterprises—”

  “Are we really calling ourselves that?” Barnabas interrupted.

  “Yes, Vigilante One, we are.”

  “Are you Vigilante Two?”

  “I’m Vigilante Actual. Learn your callsign etiquette. And Gar is our Baby Vigilante, who will someday be a kung fu master.”

  Gar’s cheeks flushed a deep green and he dropped his head into his hands.

  “Gar has been watching your movies,” Barnabas explained to Tabitha.

  “Oh, man. Gar, you and I have to have a movie marathon night.” Tabitha held up her cup of fruit juice. “It’s gonna be great! And then maybe a night out on the town—get some drinks, beat up some people. I did that with Gabrielle once. It was an awesome night.”

  “Leave the Baby Vigilante alone,” Barnabas scolded her. “You’re embarrassing him.”

  “I hate to interrupt,” Shinigami told them, “but it’s fireworks o’clock. If everyone would turn their attention to the screens?”

  Everyone turned to look. The five gunships came lumbering through the mountain passes. Alien air travel had not always developed along the same lines as it had on Earth, and ships did not need to maintain the same speed as airplanes in order to stay in the air.

  These airships had the look of old battered military trucks. Parts of them were rusted, and they creaked and chugged along.

  They were full of explosives, however. There was no doubting how effective they would be if they were able to drop those bombs on the mining town.

  Shinigami didn’t give them the chance to do so. She took aim at the very center of the group as she streaked downward and sent a guided missile into the middle ship.

  It exploded spectacularly. The first round of explosions from Shinigami’s missile was quickly dwarfed by a second set as the closest munitions went off, and then a third as the fuel tanks and the rest of the munitions exploded.

  For a moment, Shinigami waited. She was sure she had seen—

  Yes. The ship to the right of her first target exploded along one side and tumbled into the side of a foothill.

  “Hell yeah!” Tabitha yelled. “Twofer!”

  The crowd at the mining town cheered and clapped.

  The other three gunship pilots attempted evasive maneuvers, but there was no way they could avoid Shinigami’s missiles. Three more targeted strikes provided the finale, and only ash was left to rain down on the road.

  “You’ll also be pleased to know that I located the funding source for these gunships and the Luvendi in charge, one Farfaldri Kat—”

  “He’s a two-faced sack of shit,” Gar interrupted.

  “Ah. Well, then I won’t feel bad about airing his dirty laundry and sending a couple of pucks his way.”

  “Good,” Gar exclaimed.

  “All right, I’m going to set us down near the mining town. Everyone hang on.”

  The news alert pinged on Farfaldri Kat’s tablet and he pulled it over to read, curious. He’d made a point to set up alerts in case his name should hit the news, and he saw that it had done so just now. Many times.

  His frown deepened.

  Then he opened the alerts and his jaw dropped.

  Every one of his business dealings under all of his aliases had been posted for the masses to see. He had played rivals against one another, blackmailed business partners, even spent an exorbitant amount wooing the wife of one of his rivals—and it was all public knowledge now.

  No. This could not be happ
ening.

  His horror was short-lived. When the first puck shattered the window he didn’t even have time to scream before it smeared him into paste. He was already dead when a further two pucks smashed into the roof and the building collapsed on his corpse.

  Barnabas entered the mining town to cheers.

  “Please, no,” he protested. “The explosions were all Shinigami’s doing, I assure you. And it was Tabitha who helped with the mercenaries.” In an undertone to Tabitha, he added, “We really have to do something about all those bodies.”

  “Eh.” Tabitha gave an expressive shrug.

  “Barnabas!” Carter jogged over to clasp his hand. “It’s good to see you. I don’t suppose we could grab a Pod back to Tethra. We’ve had word that the kids are a-okay. They are probably going to want to live in the Ubuara tunnels forever, actually, but we’d really like to see them.”

  “Say no more,” Barnabas told him. “Elisa isn’t badly hurt, is she? We could fix up any injuries aboard the Shinigami.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Carter suddenly looked weary. “This was terrifying. I knew that Shrillexian was bad news, but it went wrong faster than I expected. Thank you all for coming to help us,” he added to Barnabas, Tabitha, and the Tontos.

  “Of course,” Barnabas assured him, “We would not let you be hurt.”

  Carter nodded. He still looked pale and Barnabas understood. They had won a victory, but Carter couldn’t help but think what would have happened if Rald had chosen differently—if he’d killed Elisa to make a point instead, or burned down the bar, or any number of unthinkable things.

  This was why Barnabas did what he did—to make sure that people like Rald did not continue to hurt people.

  “All right, enough depression.” Tabitha pointed between them. “It’s sandwich time.”

  “A very good idea.” Barnabas smiled at the mining town, which was unscathed. “A very good idea, indeed.”

  29

  Shinigami’s avatar leaned forward to stare at the board, then looked up at Barnabas. “What the hell is this?”

  “I assume that’s a rhetorical question. It’s checkers.”

  “We play chess.”

  “We cheat at chess,” Barnabas corrected solemnly. He made a move. “I assume you’ve looked up the rules already?”

  Shinigami gave him a look and made her move. A moment later, her pieces transformed to look like small grenades. “What?” She put an innocent expression on her avatar’s face. “I have to amuse myself somehow, right?”

  Barnabas snorted in amusement as he moved a piece.

  “You’ve been quiet lately,” Shinigami observed, and made her next move.

  “I’ve been thinking.” Barnabas considered, then moved his piece.

  “About?”

  He smiled slightly. “Something that can’t be solved with intellect.”

  Shinigami made a move. “Do you want to talk about it? This game is garbage, by the way.”

  “From your displeasure, I can only assume you had a new strategy for cheating laid out.” Barnabas studied the avatar, which had conspicuously stopped moving. “Uh-huh. I thought so. As regards the issue I have no conclusions, and thus nothing to say yet.”

  “I hear sometimes it helps simply to talk about things.”

  “Are you trying to be my therapist?” Barnabas looked at her, bemused.

  “I’m trying to help,” Shinigami retorted. “I don’t understand humans all that well, you know.”

  “I know.” Barnabas smiled at her. “And I appreciate it; I do. If it helps, humans don’t understand each other too well either.”

  “I’ve observed that on my own.” Shinigami cocked her head to the side. “Gar’s waking up in the Pod-doc.”

  “Let’s go look.” Barnabas shoved his chair back.

  “You don’t want to finish the game?”

  “Nah, you’re right. It’s garbage.” Barnabas smiled at the avatar as she fell into step with him. “I just wanted to try something new. It’s nice having you take corporeal form, or appearing to—although you fuzz out a bit between the projectors.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think my projection capabilities were designed with this in mind.”

  “Probably not.” Barnabas opened the door to the medical suite and let Shinigami precede him in. He saw her smirk. “Yes, I know we can both go through the door at the same time. You look real, though.”

  “What is ‘real?’”

  “No philosophy. It’s been a long few weeks.”

  She grinned at him as the Pod-doc slid open. Gar had a smile on his face. He looked taller, Barnabas thought.

  “Okay, Shinigami, talk us through the changes.”

  “Luvendi bone structure is comparatively weak,” Shinigami began. “My first change was to manipulate the underlying structure to more closely mimic human bones, which necessitated some other changes so that the body would maintain them in their current state. Since they’re heavier than Gar is used to, I also increased his muscle mass.”

  “I feel great!” Gar stretched. “So strong!” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers.

  “It’s worth noting,” Shinigami continued, “that the Luvendi belief in their own weakness has some different causes than you might expect. First, it appears that your diet and lack of exposure to light in early years may have negatively impacted your development, both in bones and muscles. I also detected some organ damage and repaired that. My guess, after subjecting some of your cells to a range of tests, is that Luvendi were meant to have a lot of exposure to strong sunlight, but not the type of sunlight you get on Luvendan.”

  Barnabas and Gar stared at her, fascinated.

  “So either something has really changed about the planet—the way the atmosphere filters sunlight, for instance—or your people ended up on Luvendan and lost the records of the migration somehow. My guess would be the latter. You’re clearly meant to live near water, so it’s probable that they chose Luvendan for that reason, built the towers, and have been suffering the after-effects of living inside and eating a poor diet.”

  Gar nodded.

  “However, what I can find of Luvendi culture suggests that you also avoid physical altercations and stress on the bones as much as possible. I’m guessing that in your formative years your bone structure is highly reactive to impact.”

  “We’ve been weakening ourselves,” Gar mused.

  “It was a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Barnabas added, nodding. “Though you wouldn’t be the first species to have made horrible choices they thought would be ‘healthy.’ You should see some of the things humans did over the years.”

  Gar looked intrigued.

  “Anyway, we’ll want to fine-tune all this,” Shinigami told him, “But the next part of the process will be to begin training for combat and exercise and go from there. Gar, this is not going to be comfortable.”

  “I feel great right now.”

  “Uh-huh. We’ll talk after you’ve gone through a couple of proper workouts.”

  “Why don’t you go rest,” Barnabas suggested to Gar. “Or maybe walk around a bit. Slowly. Get used to your new height.”

  “Right.” Gar headed off. “Thank you, Shinigami.”

  She grinned. “Can’t wait to see you do some real kung fu.”

  Barnabas rolled his eyes and they left the room as well.

  “So where do we go next?” Shinigami asked as they strolled through the corridors.

  “Where do you want to go?” Barnabas asked. He looked out a window at the curve of the planet below them.

  “I want to go smash the main base,” Shinigami stated promptly. “I know we wanted to track down the dregs of the whole thing, but since they’re holed up and won’t be getting any new munitions…” She shrugged and looked at Barnabas, noting his expression. “You’ve been thinking the same?”

  Barnabas smiled tightly. “Yes. My impatience is getting the better of me, I fear.”

  “Eh, the point of being a vigila
nte is that you can change your plans on the fly, right?”

  “Not…Justice?”

  “Oh, right.” Shinigami waved a hand airily. “That, too. Where are we going, by the way?”

  Barnabas stopped. He had not been paying attention to where he was going and he realized that he had come to the place where he sat alone every day. He went to the window. One of High Tortuga’s moons was just visible at the side, looking strangely large given their distance from it.

  “Shinigami?”

  She waited.

  “Do you know my history?” Barnabas asked her.

  “Some,” Shinigami ventured.

  “You know I lost my mind once.” Barnabas looked at her.

  “You lost someone you loved,” Shinigami countered. At the look in Barnabas’ eyes, she wished she had not spoken.

  “You’re correct,” Barnabas managed. “So you’ve heard.”

  “That’s all I know. That’s all anyone knows, I think.”

  “Bethany Anne knows more. I… You should as well. All of my story.” Barnabas took a seat to stare out at the black. Shinigami had never seen such restraint on his face. In his eyes, she could see a grief that still threatened to swamp him. “It is something that shames me, from the very first piece to the last.”

  Shinigami chose to say nothing. She could have protested, but there was something in Barnabas’ voice that told her that if she interrupted he might not continue to tell the story.

  And he needed to.

  “To be Nacht in the early days,” Barnabas told her, “was to have everything given to you on a silver platter. I do not mean we told people what we were. Michael was very strict; we would never do that. But the family had…resources. It was clear to those who saw us that we were rich and powerful.

  “Powerful men in those days were given whatever they wanted. Women threw themselves at me, hoping to become my wife or my mistress. If they didn’t give themselves to me, their fathers offered them to me. Sometimes even their husbands did so.