Protector (The Vigilante Chronicles Book 7)

by Natalie Grey

  He lost count of the Jotun blades that sliced near him or, more than once, caught him with a searing line of pain down an arm. Deadly in their sharpness, imbued with some kind of current, the knives were able to part the fabric of his coat.

  But with so many of them trying to attack him, they were in each other’s way and had no good plan for who would attack at any given time. He could—and did—use that to his advantage. He made sure that any moment of hesitation cost them, and he did the most outrageous things he could think of to make sure they were always hesitating, always unsure what he might come up with next.

  Barnabas! Shinigami’s warning came an instant too late. An explosive round caught him full in the back and he thudded to the ground, pain blotting out any other thoughts for a long moment.

  Between his armor and his healing ability, he could recover from this if he only had the time to do so.

  He saw a flash of shadow as Gar went hurtling overhead to latch onto a Jotun’s biosuit. The Luvendi ripped the head off and threw it, then began stuffing little static grenades into the open neck of the biosuit while the Jotun flailed and tried to pull him off. Several others, horrified, ran to their fellow soldier’s defense, and Gar, laughing maniacally, made a game of evading them as he took shots with his Jean Dukes and set the static grenades off one by one.

  Shinigami, meanwhile, was nearly a blur. She was racing back and forth in Barnabas’ field of vision as he pushed himself up to his hands and knees, drawing labored breaths into his lungs.

  Your vital signs are good, she told him. I’m getting readings off the charts in terms of pain, but you’re healing just fine, and there’s no sign of internal bleeding or any lasting injury.

  That gave him the push he needed. Knowing that he was not risking serious damage, Barnabas was able to launch himself into motion once more. The pain made him gasp as he lashed out at the Jotuns, but he knew it would pass.

  There was the high trill of a whistle, and four groups of Brakalons exited the fight at high speed. They must be executing Vidrelor’s plan, Barnabas thought. He noticed explosions going off behind him at the blast doors and knew they had to wrap this up quickly. The two senators had very little time remaining, and the information they knew was too valuable to fall into Jotun hands.

  Break their line, he told Shinigami and Gar. Get to the bunker. Give them nowhere to retreat.

  Then he turned and charged into the thick of the Jotun forces, the compressed spear formation that could still retreat toward the bunker and their friends. Instead of retreating toward the explosions and rushing the bunker, the Jotuns were distracted into the fight.

  Another explosion went off nearby, and Barnabas looked up in time to see a Jotun stagger away from the bunker and collapse to its knees.

  Strange, but he had no time to think about that right now. He lashed out in an ever-widening circle, clearing his enemies with single-minded precision. One by one, they fell. Streaked with blood and with rips and blackened holes in his clothing, Barnabas knew he presented a fearsome sight. He should be dead by now, and the fact that he wasn’t, was terrifying to them.

  Reinforcements! Shinigami’s cry could have been ambiguous but for the frustration in it.

  Shit. Barnabas kicked his speed up a notch. Tell Vidrelor he needs to stop fucking around and get back to the bunker.

  Roger.

  There was no immediate response after that, however. In fact, Shinigami was silent for a long enough time that Barnabas looked over to see what was going on and picked out both her and Vidrelor in the chaos. Both were stealing glances at the bunker.

  It would be deadly to split his focus further, but this was the sort of riddle Barnabas could not resist. He looked up—

  Just in time to see an RPG of some sort go streaking up from near the bunker. It hit the Jotun landing craft and sent it cartwheeling through the air, trailing black smoke. With most of the battlefield watching open-mouthed, it tumbled out of control into the side of a nearby hill.

  For a moment Barnabas thought the doors would open and soldiers would come pouring out, but some self-destruct must have activated. The whole thing went up in a flash so bright he saw stars, and chunks of red-hot debris shot up into the air.

  What the hell is going on? he demanded of Shinigami.

  Vidrelor wants to know the same thing. Almost absent-mindedly, she grabbed a Jotun by the neck and shook it violently until the tank popped out of the body and went rolling over the ground. She didn’t even spare it a glance. He thought we were the ones up by the bunker.

  What?

  Well, someone clearly is. Someone who’s on our side. Heads up, I think we’ve got all of them if we move now.

  In unison, the three crew members of the Shinigami pulled out their Jean Dukes, and each took out two of the remaining Jotuns in their little knot. Then, without a word, they took off for the bunker.

  Debris and Jotun bodies littered the area so that they had to scramble up over little hills in order to see the doors. When they did, Barnabas’ jaw dropped.

  “How did you—”

  “They sent me with the strike team,” Jeltor said. He looked at all of them. “And in all the confusion, no one thought to make sure I was still converted.”

  “Jeltor.” Barnabas wanted to believe, but he could not be sloppy about this. He looked into Jeltor’s mind. “Senator Grisor—”

  There was a surge of something tired and too simple in Jeltor’s mind, followed almost instantaneously by revulsion, both for the conversion and for Grisor.

  “He’s a traitor,” Jeltor said. “You were right, Barnabas. My own thoughts and experiences showed me the truth once, and they did it again. I know you thought you failed back at the estate—that you couldn’t convince me. But you did. You saved my life—and I’m here to help you make sure they can’t use the people in this bunker or anyone else for their purposes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “He’s not converted.” Barnabas felt a prickling in his eyes. “Shinigami, tell them. He’s not converted.” He took two steps and pulled Jeltor into a hug, laughing. It was ridiculous to hug a biosuit, but he did not care. This was his friend. Now that Jeltor was here and safe, Barnabas admitted to himself that he had never expected to see Jeltor again.

  Worse, he had expected that they would come face to face as enemies and Barnabas would have to kill the Jotun.

  “Barnabas.” Jeltor’s voice was grave. “There are more coming. We need to get the Brakalons out of the bunker. But—please. Jelina. The children. They’re all right?”

  At the thought of Jeltor’s family, Barnabas’ tears made his vision blur. He blinked them away as he nodded.

  “They are,” he said. “They’ll be glad to see you.”

  How much the children knew, he wasn’t sure, but he did know that Jeltor’s wife hadn’t ever expected to see her husband again.

  Purpose flowed through him, and he strode to the edge of the hill. “Quickly!” he called. “Clean up there and get this bunker open. We need to get the senators out before reinforcements arrive!”

  The Brakalons went to work with a will, and the Jotuns, seeing their forces nearly wiped out by one of their own, fought with desperate rage but little hope. They fell one by one as Barnabas watched grimly.

  When Jeltor came to stand beside him, he looked at him curiously. “Are you sure you want to see this?”

  “They chose violence and death,” Jeltor replied. “Not because they were tortured. They came here willingly. Whenever I doubt what we’re doing, and if it’s worth it, I want to remember this: those soldiers trying to blast their way into a bunker to capture politicians and torture them into becoming agents. And these fighters, too, knowing there’s no hope of them surviving, simply wanting to make their enemies hurt as much as possible so they’ll be weak when the fleet arrives.” He paused. “There’s something you should know about that.”

  Barnabas looked at him wordlessly.

  “They converted Admiral Jeqwar,
” Jeltor told him. “I tried to stop it, Barnabas. I really did. I went in and tried to give her hope, telling her to cling to her principles. I should have killed her, I know that—but I couldn’t bring myself to.”

  Luckily, Barnabas had Shinigami nearby, and her smile told him that she remembered their conversation.

  “She of all people might yell at you for not killing her,” Barnabas told Jeltor, “but you know how the crew of the Shinigami works. We don’t write people off. Not our friends.”

  What might have been a touching moment was ruined by a stray rocket-propelled grenade that shot overhead, making all of them duck. They turned to watch as it thunked harmlessly onto the side of the bunker.

  “Are anyone else’s ears ringing?” Gar asked dubiously. “It’s just explosion after explosion this time, even when they aren’t doing anything. Normally, there’s more hand to hand combat.” He smiled at Jeltor. “It’s good to see you again. Tafa will be glad you’re well.”

  “She’s safe, then?” Jeltor sounded relieved.

  “Safe and—well, we’ll explain later.” Barnabas didn’t want to go into the subject of Tafa’s upgrades right now.

  Vidrelor came scrambling up the hill toward them. He looked at the bunker but seemed to decide the politicians were safe enough for now. He jerked his head at Jeltor. “Who’s this?”

  “Captain Jeltor of the Jotun Navy.” Jeltor introduced himself with a slight bow. “I come with the very good news that the mind-control the Committee has is not permanent. As you can see,” he added drily, gesturing at the Jotuns around him.

  “You killed your own comrades,” Vidrelor said. There was distaste in his voice.

  “Perhaps you would have preferred to have them kill your troops?” Jeltor asked bluntly. “No, I don’t think you would have. There are more pieces of this plan coming, General. Your forces need to be as strong as possible. We can discuss ethics later.”

  “Finally,” Shinigami exclaimed. She came over to loop her arm around Jeltor’s shoulders. “Someone else who understands that right in the middle of a fight is not the time to moan on about ethics and moral philosophy.”

  Barnabas took the hit with an eye roll. “General Vidrelor, Jeltor has told us that there are more reinforcements incoming. We should get the senators out of the bunker as quickly as we can and—”

  “STATE YOUR NAMES.” An automated voice blared out of the speakers near the blast doors.

  Everyone jumped.

  Jeltor recovered first. “I am Captain Jeltor of the Jotun Navy. As you can see from my actions during the battle, I oppose the invasion of Kordinev.”

  “NEXT,” the voice blared.

  “General Vidrelor,” the Brakalon called. “I am leading this rescue mission to free the Senate Majority and Minority Leader.”

  “THE HUMAN NEXT.”

  “It means you,” Shinigami told Barnabas.

  “I am Barnabas,” he said. “I was once a Queen’s Ranger in the Etheric Empire, and participated in the rescue of the Brakalon ship Srisa.” That was playing somewhat fast and loose with facts, but it was close enough. “This is Venfaldri Gar, of my crew, and Shinigami, another of my crewmates.”

  There was a silence.

  “BRAKALON. WHO DO YOU SERVE?”

  “Senators.” General Vidrelor looked impatient. “I assure you, I am loyal to you. I too was imprisoned until very recently, and just hours ago we freed General Fedranor. There are Jotun reinforcements coming, and the Jotun fleet is inbound. We need to get you somewhere safe, where the Jotuns have not compromised the controls of the building.”

  There was a pause, then the doors slid open one by one. Two Brakalon walked out, both immediately going to stand on opposite sides of the group.

  General Vidrelor leaned close to murmur in Barnabas’ ear, “They’re famous enemies. Frankly, it’s a wonder they didn’t kill each other while they were in there.”

  “The touching thing about all this is how it’s brought us together,” Barnabas replied blandly.

  General Vidrelor chuckled quietly before looking at Jeltor. “You, Jotun. You say there are reinforcements coming?”

  “Yes.” Jeltor raised one arm and scanned the horizon, then pointed.

  The general took note of the heading and gave an order, sending two wings of the circling fighters streaking off.

  “We should get back to the city,” he told them all. “We have injured soldiers, and need to mobilize the Army and formulate a plan.”

  “Yes,” Jeltor said. “I think the first piece we should include is a strike team to infiltrate the Jotun flagship and rescue the admiral.”

  “We’ll discuss it,” Vidrelor said opaquely. “Let’s get to the shuttles for now.”

  As they walked, Barnabas reached over to clasp Jeltor’s shoulder. “I’m glad you recovered,” he said quietly.

  “So am I.” Jeltor heaved a sigh. “Not that there weren’t benefits to being converted, I can tell you that much. Life is back to being more complicated. It was easy when all I had to worry about was Grisor’s orders.” He shuddered inside his tank. “He was a nasty piece of work.”

  “Mmm.” Barnabas wasn’t sure yet how he wanted to broach the topic of Grisor’s current imprisonment on the Shinigami. “Him and all of them. Let’s make our plan and get this show on the road. I take it we don’t have very long until they get here?”

  “Six hours,” Shinigami said.

  “Six hours.” Barnabas sighed and rotated his shoulders, grimacing. “Not a lot of time to plan a planet-wide defense against a famous admiral, but if anyone can do it, we can.”

  With a laugh, the others followed him into the shuttle.

  * * *

  On the Shinigami, Tafa stirred and opened her eyes.

  “Shinigami?”

  “Hello, Tafa.” Shinigami’s voice was surprised. “Why did you wake up? You still have some of your upgrades to go.”

  “I’m not sure why I woke up.” Tafa felt pleasantly drowsy, as if she had run a long race and sparred a lot—although she wasn’t as sore as she would be in that case, she was sure.

  “Ah, I see the issue,” Shinigami told her. “Your system processes the anesthesia much more quickly. Once I knew what I was looking for, I could see why. Are you ready to go under again?”

  “Yes. Wait.” Tafa tried to sit up. “Oh, my bones feel like lead. It’s nice, though. It feels all right, just…very tired.”

  “Your body is doing a lot of work to heal and grow,” Shinigami explained. “What did you want me to wait for?”

  “How are things?” Tafa asked. “Did the mission go all right?”

  “It went just fine,” Shinigami soothed her. “We were able to get the Brakalon captives out, and you’ll never guess who showed up! Jeltor. Barnabas checked his thoughts. He’s no longer converted. He said that Barnabas’ words to him at Grisor’s estate helped him shed the conversion. He’s safe, Tafa. Rest. You’ll see him when you wake up.”

  Tafa gave a smile and settled back. As unconsciousness took her again, she knew only a feeling of profound contentment. Jeltor was back, the team was safe, and she could feel the changes in her bones and muscles.

  She knew now what Barnabas had meant when he said that these changes were not to be feared. She could tell that she was more durable now, and stronger, but she also knew that she was the same person at heart.

  All would be well.

  * * *

  The Jotun flagship hurtled through the black, and Admiral Jeqwar paced around her quarters. She was behind. The Committee had mismanaged their time and resources, and she was being brought in—as was normally the case—far too late in the process.

  Luckily, any commander worth their position knew how to account for that. It was still frustrating, however, and even more, she had to deal with her present visitor.

  “Do you have qualms?” Senator Torsen asked her delicately.

  “What? No.” She gave the female Jotun an impatient look. “Surely you’re familiar with
my history?”

  “That was against another fleet,” the senator pointed out. She had been sent as the Committee’s main representative within the fleet to ensure that the Committee’s orders were followed.

  Admiral Jeqwar understood the necessity. After all, she had recently been the Committee’s enemy. Still, the senator’s insistence on having long discussions about feelings was tiresome and time-consuming.

  They had an invasion to plan. That was no small thing.

  “I do what I need to do in order to keep the Jotuns safe,” Admiral Jeqwar told the senator, trying not to show her frustration with this conversation. They had gone through it multiple times. “We are, of course, trying to bring peace and order, not death. I will hardly kill civilians for the sake of it. Hopefully, the Brakalons will see the wisdom of letting us rule, and this can be accomplished easily, with minimal Naval involvement.”

  The senator looked at her suspiciously.

  “What we need to do,” Admiral Jeqwar said, running out of patience, “is make sure that the other captains do not realize what is happening. We have only one chance to take control of the fleet and enact our maneuvers before they realize who they are serving.”

  “You sound disapproving.” The senator clearly did not think much of this.

  “You could have waited until you had more captains converted,” Admiral Jeqwar pointed out. “You say you have agents on some of the ships, but they can’t pilot them, and I can’t pilot the whole fleet indefinitely. You’re rushing things. I still say we should pause once we get to Kordinev and bring the captains here in ones and twos to be converted. It’s safer, and will eliminate some of the messiness down the line.”

  Senator Torsen got up to pace. She was delicate, and seemed to have compensated for that by making her suit bigger and bulkier than it needed to be.

  She was, however, inflexible when it came to the Committee’s orders. Her loyalty was absolute, and she had been hand-picked by Qarwit to come on this mission.