by Natalie Grey
If she didn’t, after all, between the water and the bullets, he would likely kill Barnabas and the entire strike team. And if he didn’t, Barnabas would kill Biset—and then be weak and undefended against Kantar.
In one stroke, she could rid the Jotun of two enemies: one who sickened them from within, and another whose quest for Justice might hurt the innocent.
Kantar stopped, still cloaked in shadows. She knew what Gil and Wev would want her to do.
She just did not know what she wanted to do.
Jeltor charged into battle at the head of the group, Shinigami and Barnabas flanking him and Gar running behind at the back of the diamond. Jeltor’s suit had panels that could unfurl to make him a giant shield and the team had used this as best they could.
As soon as they started to get to the point where it would not matter any longer, Barnabas and Shinigami threw themselves as far to the sides as they could, vaulting from their cover into the fray before the robots could re-target.
Barnabas knew that whoever was using these warriors had not practiced. They had not gone through the admirals’ training and passed it. They did not have what it took.
Unfortunately, they still had hundreds of robots at their disposal and thousands of bullets flying each minute, and they might win by sheer luck.
That royally pissed him off. He hated it when people won by luck instead of skill.
Gar had climbed onto Jeltor’s back and now vaulted over the Jotun’s head and deep into the ranks of the robots. He, like Shinigami and Barnabas, was determined to wreak as much havoc as he could, and he did it admirably.
Within the dense ranks, grenades were thrown, and the robots did not react quickly enough to quarantine them. Blasts rang out, Jean Dukes were fired, and there was the occasional yell of Barnabas or Gar catching a hit—bullet or mechanical fist.
They were better, Barnabas kept telling himself. He dispatched his enemies with brutal efficiency, always circling to the outside of an encounter so that only some of them had a clear shot at him. He kept taking them down, chipping away at their numbers, washing them away as water would wear away stone...
And yet, water was one of his problems. The level was still rising, and it was slowing him down. He struggled to move as quickly and predictably as he needed to. Currents made things even more tricky, and he could not easily tell where the walkways ended and the reservoirs began. More than once, he fell under the water and emerged cold, escaping a robot by luck alone.
Luck. A battle should never come down to luck.
They were still pressing forward, but the injuries were beginning to take their toll. Shinigami had been hit often enough that parts of her machinery were not working as well as they should. Both Gar and Barnabas, despite their healing, were in pain and cold. Jeltor’s suit had taken damage far beyond where he should have bowed out of the battle.
“Who…the fuck…are you?” Barnabas yelled toward the back of the chamber.
“I am no one, human,” the voice spat. “I am nameless to you. When I am gone, no one will think to look for me. No one will know what truth you were seeking. There never was another black ops team, was there? It was all a lie.”
“It was your panic over it that proved it true,” Barnabas called back. He barely missed stepping into a reservoir again and choked on a mouthful of water, swearing silently as he pried the sensor panel off a robot and ripped its gun arm off for good measure. “If they haven’t come yet, they will.”
“They won’t,” the voice snapped, “because they won’t have a chance. It will all be over too quickly.”
There. There it was, their entire plan. Barnabas didn’t know the how of it, but now he knew their goal.
And he knew they thought they could achieve it.
“Your people will never stand for this!” he yelled back. “Never, do you hear me? You are the worst of them, and they will revolt against you and show every other species that they did not want this. They will defeat you from within.”
“Oh, no, they won’t.” The voice was far, far too satisfied, and the water began to rise much faster. “And while I’d love you to see it, I think it’s better if you don’t live that long. It’s been a good fight, human, but it’s time—”
The voice cut off, and Barnabas, who’d been climbing on top of a robot to stay above the water level, noticed that the waters had stilled as well.
“Hello?”
He looked around. Jeltor had activated something that allowed his suit to float, and Gar and Shinigami had done the same thing Barnabas had.
And there, at the end of the room, perched on the shoulders of another biosuit, crouched the slim shape of the assassin. She nodded her cybernetic head in greeting.
“Hello again.”
“Hello,” Barnabas replied, surprised into politeness. “So who was that you just killed?”
“And why did you do it?” Shinigami added. “You waited quite a while to intervene. He’s been distracted for quite some time.”
The assassin laughed, an eerie sound. “Who it was doesn’t particularly matter. As to why...” She paused as she stood. “It was what you said about the Jotuns rising and showing the universe that they weren’t a part of this. You don’t mean to destroy us when you learn the truth. I see that now.”
She leaped—into the rafters.
“So I’ll do you a favor,” she called down, her voice echoing. The waters began to recede. “Look up the Infrastructure Revitalization Committee.”
There was the sound of a door closing, and she was gone.
“That could be boring,” Gar said, but the rest of the group was distracted by Barnabas’ laughter.
“A committee,” he said helplessly. “I always knew committees would destroy the world. Well, let’s all go get patched up. We have some committee-hunting to do.”
Epilogue
Barnabas took a restrained sip of juice and closed his eyes in pleasure. “Ah. Truly excellent.”
“Most people would gulp it down,” Gar told him.
“There is value in self-control,” Barnabas replied gravely.
“Don’t listen to him,” Shinigami stated. “It’s the stick up his ass talking.”
“I do not know what that phrase means,” Gar complained.
“You don’t need to,” Barnabas said wearily. “Suffice it to say she’s insulting me.”
“Teasing. I’m teasing. I do it with love.” She looked at the food. “I wish I could eat this. You all seem to like it so much. Tabitha says these are some of the best sandwiches she’s ever had. I’ve…cleaned up the sentiment somewhat.”
“We’d guessed that.” Barnabas smiled as he took another sip of juice. “So. It is time to decide our next move. Normally, I would wait until we had eaten, but we cannot afford to waste any time.”
“I’ve asked Aebura and Kelnamon to look into any attacks on Ubuara or Brakalon colonies, and to report any other unexplained happenings,” Tafa said. She had jumped into the role of chief researcher eagerly, networking with other biological organisms.
“That will make my predictions and assessments better,” Shinigami agreed. Once Tafa had collected the research, Shinigami set to work crunching the numbers. Together, they made an incredible team, and what Shinigami could do with data, Tafa had a talent for “seeing” in another way—her artist’s eye could sense a distortion in data, and once she pointed out what she saw, Shinigami was often able to make sense of it.
“As far as I can tell,” Gar said, “there haven’t been any attacks on Luvendi settlements, mainly because there aren’t any Luvendi settlements. I think we’ll have to look at it another way. I’ve put very vague calls out to the Luvendi I know to see if they knew anyone who dropped out of contact unexpectedly. The best way to get Luvendi would be to hire them into roles in a remote company and abduct them from there. The network on Luvendan itself is far too strong for people to vanish without a trace.”
“Let Tafa and Shinigami know what you find,” Barnabas said
with a nod. “We’ll have to see if we can find any Torcellans to work with.”
“Try Gor’rathi,” Shinigami suggested. “The Gerris Station administrator. He owes us some favors.”
“In a manner of speaking,” Barnabas murmured. “There were only problems on the station because of us.”
“You’re not enough of an opportunist,” Shinigami told him disgustedly. She shook her head. “Any word from Jeltor, by the way?”
“None yet.” Barnabas fought a wave of worry. While Jeltor’s family had remained at the safe house, Jeltor had gone back to Jotuna to begin spreading the word among the Naval captains. Whatever committee this was, they had to find out more about it.
Jeltor was filled with a renewed hope that there would be trustworthy members of the Senate, and Barnabas, despite his caution, was inclined to agree with him. Surely many senators had gotten into politics with an intent to do good work—and surely there were still some who had not been corrupted or jaded.
They just had to find them.
“We’ll stay here until we get word,” he decided. “There’s no place safer for the Shinigami, and we can see our friends. I wish there was something to do, but there isn’t until we know more.”
“You could help Elisa,” Shinigami suggested.
Barnabas looked at Carter’s wife, who was making her way out of the kitchen with two trays of food. She looked a bit more tired than usual but was otherwise in very good spirits.
“Is there something she needs help with?”
Shinigami smiled, and Barnabas was reminded of how much those cybernetic eyes could see. “She’s pregnant again,” she said quietly.
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Barnabas was up like a shot, taking one of the trays from Elisa while the rest of the table looked on in amusement.
“Good things happen here,” Tafa said. She looked happy and was almost in awe of this place. Tethra, on High Tortuga’s smaller continent, was not a place of elegant buildings or big money, but it was a place where people greeted each other happily, and loving care showed in the construction of the buildings.
“It took a lot of work to make it this way,” Gar told her. “A lot of courage.” There was a lot of history in those words.
“Some of that courage was yours,” Shinigami told him. “And we’ll do the same with the Jotuns. I promise. No matter how dark it seems.”
“And so,” Grisor said, “while Biset’s death was tragic, it has served as a valuable warning to us and has destroyed one of our most dangerous enemies. He bought us safety at the cost of his life so that the Jotuns might rise to lead all the species of the universe—as we were ordained to do!”
He shuddered and rippled with the force of his words, and the other committee members, each floating in the tank with him, bowed down before him respectfully.
Grisor, as he looked out at the assembled group, wondered if any of them truly believed the words he said. For certain, he had no grief over Biset’s death. Biset had been a powerful committee member, ruthless and willing to do whatever was necessary to preserve the committee and advance its goals. He was the one who had suggested using Huword, and that had been an excellent suggestion, indeed.
But Grisor did not particularly care that Biset was dead. It was one less potential loose end, one fewer person fighting for power when the committee’s aims were finally reached. Biset would have ordered them all killed and taken over.
Grisor—who was planning to do the same, of course—was not sorry that Biset was gone.
But in every worthy enterprise, there was an element of danger. One must find allies, and allies could be dangerous, unreliable, and power-hungry. A good ally was all those things because worthwhile people always were.
When the rest of the committee rose to look at him, Grisor saw that they thought the same way. None of them cared about the rhetoric. Oh, they would pay lip-service to it. It would not do to have someone overhear the wrong speech. When the Jotun people heard what had happened, they would need to have a good, noble reason for supporting it.
If they did not? Well, they could be convinced. The experiments had shown that conclusively.
“Let us discuss progress,” Grisor continued smoothly. “As you know, we have lost Huword. Therefore, we will need another source within the Navy. Fortunately, we have the means to turn any of them to our side now.”
There was a flood of approval, chemicals rushing sweetly to him in the shared tank.
It had taken hundreds from each species to get to this point. Some species were still difficult to convince. The mind was a complex thing, after all, and not easily controlled. Each species had its own failings and weaknesses.
But the Jotuns they had figured out early on. Now the committee had the strength to make any Jotun loyal to them.
And very, very soon they would have planets full of aliens, each turned not only into slaves but loyal slaves—and the Jotuns would rule this sector, unassailable.
“Who will we choose?” one of the committee members asked. “Which admiral is best placed to convince the others?”
“No,” another argued, “we should choose the one we can get to most reliably.”
“We will not choose from among the admirals,” Grisor countered smoothly.
Everyone looked at him.
“When word gets out of Huword’s dealings, there will be a crisis of faith. No one will be above suspicion.”
They all waited.
“No one,” Grisor continued, “except the one who exposed Huword and the Senate in the first place.”
A few understood, but not all. He marked them; they were weak links.
He explained, “There is no other logical choice but Captain Jeltor. And luckily enough, he’s on Jotuna right now.”
FINIS
Author Notes - Natalie Grey
Written October 9, 2018
Thank you for reading Justiciar! I can’t wait to launch into this next part of Barnabas’s story - what started as a murder investigation is part of something much, much bigger, and Barnabas and his crew are going to be tested in ways they’ve never imagined…!
I want to offer an extra-big thank you to the whole team this time, starting with Michael, who was vigilant and caught the first signs of burnout after a very productive spring and summer. He encouraged me to take the necessary time off, and Lynne, Steve, et al. really helped make it work. Thank you so much! Thanks also to Jeff for the lovely cover. I’m so glad we get to see Shinigami now!
I couldn’t do this without the beta readers, both the first-round set (Sandy, Jim, and Sam) and the JIT group. Thanks for the typo and canon checks!
And thank you, as well, to B and L, who are a joy to me every day.
Sincerely,
Nat
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Written October 9, 2018
Before I explain what is going on, let me say THANK YOU for not only reading this book, but these author notes, as well.
Today is Tuesday and I’m in Frankfurt Germany, attending the Frankfurt Book Fair – the largest in the world. I choose to come here as a company to understand what the bigger market looks like, to make relationships happen, and to see a few fans here in Germany.
We came in a day earlier this year (we arrived hours before the first meeting last year, a very poor operational choice for sure.)
Because of this better life choice, I actually got out of bed in time, and enjoyed the opening meeting.
Further, I got a chance to speak with a representative of a research company based out of the UK that is more connected with Trad (traditional) publishing than indie. I did this to see if we have options related to helping show the growth of markets with Indie Publishing numbers. Since they (trad pub) don’t have any insight into our sales, and Amazon isn’t about to supply them, they are doing some heavy scraping of the site via a 3rd party to understand the size of our genres.
While part of me is concerned that better insights bring additional comp
etition, I realize that companies of their size and abilities could help grow the market bigger, so that we all benefit.
Because of this mornings meeting(s), I have NEW business ideas and hope to be here next year, writing another Author Note discussing something new that caused my little brain between my ears to quiver in anticipation.
Who knows? Perhaps I will be fortunate enough to break a whole new country open for Sci-Fi and Urban Fantasy.
I might get a t-shirt like the one that says ‘I’m a big deal in
Hehe.
Below is a duplicate from another author note (TUMB 11) – HOWEVER – it is important for those who enjoy Fan Pricing.
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael
--- FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT READ THIS IN BROWNSTONE #11 Or JUNTTO ---
LMBPN has set this BHAG (big hairy audacious goal) of releasing 400 titles next year. To make this happen, we had to get a cracking and bang a few brain cells together to figure out how to streamline our process.
Which, you know, was probably said last year, but I didn’t FEEL like being responsible last year. As the owner of this company, I didn’t want to be told when I had to have stories in. The whole concept made the obstinate part of my personality stand up and try to figure out who to flip off.
In the end, I had to give myself the finger.
Way to fuck yourself over, Michael.
Why? Because it’s one thing to have two or three (at most) books coming out in a week. But, when we started doing full weeks of books (well, five days, not weekends) the challenges exposed themselves.
One of the issues is fan pricing. How do we continue the pricing, and reduce the effort because with 400 books, we have a LOT more to do and emails are a serious time and effort constraint, and we already sent too many.
