The Vigilante Chronicles Omnibus

by Natalie Grey

  “A hallucination,” Chogaru replied dismissively.

  Leiguba frowned. He understood not trusting Aebura, but this was different. Chogaru knew Leiguba. The Nekubi should know that he wouldn’t lie about this.

  “It wasn’t a hallucination,” he said firmly. “This alien is not an Ubuara, but he can speak mind to mind.”

  “Is this the alien who went to the overseer’s hut?”

  “Yes. You saw him?”

  “He was coming down the hill when they brought me to speak with Lan.” Chogaru flicked his tongue contemplatively at the corners of his mouth as if checking for any scraps of food that might have gotten away. “If he’s talked to Lan and is still free to move around, clearly he isn’t on our side. Has he done anything to prove who he’s from?”

  “No. Not yet.” Leiguba’s tail twitched. “We need to give him time.”

  “We might not have time.”

  “No.” Leiguba got up and began to pace back and forth on the fence, using all four paws to walk. “We can’t let anyone do something stupid. We were getting to the point where we might do something foolish. We need to wait and see what this alien does.”

  “And what if he’s one of Lan’s agents, trying to lure us into the open so they can crush everyone who wants to fight back?” When Leiguba looked stubborn, Chogaru folded his arms over his bulbous belly. “I think you’re too quick to trust this human, just because he made you think something. Can’t people lie mind to mind?”

  “They...can,” Leiguba said cautiously. “But it’s awfully hard. Usually, when someone is doing a sneaky thing you can tell. The thought doesn’t feel right.”

  “But it is possible.”

  “I suppose.” Leiguba sat back down and rocked back and forth. “But then what do we do? Everyone knows he’s here. I can’t tell them he’s not going to help us—especially when we don’t know that for sure. That would be cruel, to take hope away without good reason.”

  “You gave them hope without good reason,” Chogaru snapped.

  “We haven’t even talked to him! Maybe he’ll have good answers.”

  “Maybe.” Chogaru lifted a shoulder. “I’m not convinced.”

  “Come talk to him with me. Then maybe you will be.” Leiguba frowned at the Nekubi and gave a little sigh of relief when Chogaru nodded grudgingly. “You won’t regret this.”

  Chogaru still looked grumpy. “I still think we should organize on our own,” he said after a moment. “They need to know we can fight back. They need to know we haven’t forgotten what they’re doing to us. And we shouldn’t rely on outsiders. Why is Aebura sending someone after all this time, anyway? It’s too weird.”

  “What if we fight back and we start something too big? We might get crushed. We can’t fight Brakalons.”

  “You don’t know that,” Chogaru exclaimed. “We’ve learned all sorts of things about the guards. We might be able to pull it off.”

  “’Might?’ We can’t risk people unless we’re sure!”

  “Nothing is ever sure,” Chogaru replied dismissively. “Now, are you going to show them that you’re a force to be reckoned with or aren’t you?”

  Leiguba wavered. He would really rather wait to see what this human did. He’d trusted that human, even if he couldn’t say why. He still thought the human was a good bet.

  But maybe he was being foolish. Maybe he should trust Chogaru. After all, Chogaru was the one who did things. He was fearless, always getting hauled up to see Lan and always coming back to brag that Lan needed them more than he let on and the Luvendi was a coward.

  Yes. He should listen to Chogaru. Chogaru knew what to do. Maybe if they were all brave like him, they’d already be free.

  “Okay,” Leiguba said. “Let’s organize. Let’s come up with a plan.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Shinigami was regretting her choices. She had agreed, much against her better judgment, to play chess with Barnabas again and had therefore used one of Barnabas’s devices to project a chessboard and an image of Baba Yaga. Now, conscious of his reminders to behave like a human, she brushed a lock of white hair behind one ear and leaned forward to study the board.

  “You’re getting better at that.” Given that she was using the device, Barnabas did not bother to use mind speech.

  Shinigami did not respond. She was too busy thinking that this was another trap.

  She couldn’t have said why. He was playing far differently this time, moving pieces aggressively forward to get every game piece in play. His pawns were out, both knights were advancing, and he’d left a rook and a bishop in position to strike at her larger pieces if she dared move them.

  It would be foolish of Barnabas to do the same thing again: play not to win.

  But what if he was doing it anyway? It had been nonsensical the first time, too.

  Hadn’t it?

  She hated humans, she thought grumpily. She hated them with every fiber of her being. Stupid, nonsensical, overly proud, illogical, absolutely untrustworthy, and they made bad jokes—and yet he’d talked her into playing him again. How had he done that? She should have known better.

  She knew how he’d done it: she had wanted to prove she could beat him. She had come out of the last game feeling bamboozled. Feeling that he had won even though he had lost, and now she had to prove herself.

  How did he do that?

  “Your move,” Barnabas reminded her mildly.

  She raised her avatar’s face to give him a glare and his lips twitched slightly.

  He was mocking her. He was mocking her.

  I will find a fitting way to make you sorry for this. Maybe I will lock you in a Sisyphean hell. Mind speech really was easier for her. Plus, she liked being the voice of God echoing in people’s skulls.

  Apparently he didn’t. “That always sounded unpleasant.” He looked at the roof of the cave contemplatively, as if admiring the sheer ambition of her goal. And then, uncannily sensing that she was ready to flip the chessboard and quit, he added, “If you don’t want to play you could just concede.”

  Smug, self-centered bastard. She knew he had been manipulating her. She knew it.

  And she still couldn’t bear the idea of him wandering around the ship, telling her he’d won both games, even if she knew it wasn’t true. Oh, he was maddening. She was going to kill him in his sleep.

  Wait, he didn’t sleep.

  No matter. She’d come up with something suitable. And then she’d kill ADAM and TOM for suggesting she work with him.

  Thoughts of vengeance concluded, she moved one of her bishops into position to be captured, narrowing her eyes at him in challenge. Come and get me.

  He moved a knight backward, staring her down with an evil grin.

  Shinigami fought the urge to scream.

  “I’m almost sure Lan is not part of a larger group,” he remarked as he waited for her next move. “At least, per se. I think he has contacts in place to help him escape when he wants to, but I don’t think there is any particular set of overseers who plan to break away.”

  Shinigami moved a pawn. What was the point of strategy when he was only going to lose on purpose again?

  His words were hopeful, however. Does this mean you’re going to let me send a missile at that hut?

  “Not just yet. Be patient.” He looked at the board, gave a minute shrug, and moved a knight.

  Why wait? She moved another pawn. I watched your physiological responses every time he talked. Your fingers were contracting. You wanted to strangle him.

  “I want to pull his spine out and strangle him with that,” Barnabas corrected her in such a pleasant tone of voice that even Shinigami was a bit unnerved. “I’m waiting because I think if I can put him off-balance enough, he’ll contact the various people who are willing to help someone like him...and who know about this planet. I don’t just want to take out Lan, I want his whole network.”

  She gave the mental equivalent of a nod, then, Someone’s coming.

  Barnab
as turned his head. “I hear them.” His enhanced hearing had picked up the crunch of the feet of a bipedal being on gravel.

  It’s... Checking. It’s the other Luvendi, Venfirdri Gar. She moved a piece.

  “Interesting.” Barnabas stayed hidden in the cave and moved a piece on the other side of the board that was manifestly unconnected to any of his previous moves.

  Shinigami moved a mirroring piece—and realized her mistake when she saw Barnabas’ lazy smile. He slid a rook down the side of the board. “Checkmate.”

  You have got to be kidding me. You were playing to win?

  “Of course. It would be foolish to do the same thing twice in a row, don’t you think?”

  Then what was all that shrugging about?

  “It’s called ‘bluffing,’ my dear AI.” He smiled at her as both the holograph and the game board flickered out of sight, and a moment later turned his head to look at Gar. “Hello.”

  Gar hesitated. “I came because... Well, is there anything I should be doing right now?”

  Finding Lan’s network and leading a coup? Shinigami suggested.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t realize for months what Lan had actually done. I’m not trusting him to do anything so complicated as figure the whole thing out.

  Probably wise. You really are an ass, you know.

  Barnabas smiled internally and nodded to Gar. “You are good to ask. As it happens, there is something I have not been able to determine yet, which is how Lan intends to get off-planet. He may not have a plan, but if he has one I want to know what it is.”

  Gar nodded. “And what are you going to do next?”

  Don’t answer that.

  I’m not stupid, Shinigami.

  “My plans are fluid, and they will remain private for now.” Barnabas gave him a smile with just a hint of coldness to it.

  Gar nodded nervously. “If you need me?”

  “I will find a way to contact you.” Barnabas knew his smile was not reassuring. He liked that in this case.

  Gar was being useful, but he should not make the mistake of thinking he had nothing left to prove.

  The Luvendi seemed to take this gracefully. He bowed and left with a murmured farewell.

  Before you say anything, yes, I know I need to keep an eye on him. Barnabas glanced toward the ship in orbit.

  Well, as long as you know.

  I do. All right, I think I’m going to try to talk to the Huns next.

  The...Huns?

  The Nekubi. I was referring to the slug aliens from the Star Wars movies John and Bobcat like so much.

  John says they’re poorly acted and sloppy.

  And yet he watches them once a month. What does that tell you?

  That humans are maddeningly inconsistent?

  Well, you’re not wrong. Barnabas stood up and rotated his neck to work out a crick. Once more into the breach.

  Chogaru watched Gar slowly make his way from the cave to the walls. The Luvendi had made a big show of examining the camp before he entered the cave, taking measurements and marking things on a map. Doubtless he would pretend that he had been assessing the defenses so he could make them stronger.

  But Chogaru knew that the alien who called himself “Brother Barnabas” was in that cave right now.

  He considered. He’d encouraged Leiguba to riot, thus ensuring that his place as an informant would be secure, but this was even better information.

  If Gar were to be implicated, Chogaru might move up even farther in the hierarchy of the camp.

  He just had to make sure Lan saw the evidence with his own eyes. But how to accomplish that?

  “So, this is Pepsi?” Aebura stared doubtfully at the bubbly drink.

  “Not so loud!” Carter looked around furtively. “No, this is Coke. This will be our official beverage, in accordance with the wishes of the Empress.”

  He pushed the beverage aside and laid out a brightly-colored sign, pitching his voice so other people in the bar could hear him.

  “See? This sign shows that we make Coke, a beverage that is quickly becoming a favorite across the universe. It has a flavor that cannot be matched, and is the favorite beverage of the Empress.”

  “I thought you said the Etheric Empire had become part of a federation?”

  “That’s not as good for marketing. ‘Empress’ has a better ring to it.”

  “How is an empress different from a queen again?”

  “It’s… We’re getting off into a weird area here. Just trust me on this one.” Carter patted the sign again and projected his voice. “Yes, this poster certainly shows that we are devoted to the manufacture and distribution of Coca-Cola.”

  Aebura stared at him silently. He was behaving very oddly; she wondered if he was having some sort of health issue.

  He leaned forward to whisper, “Meanwhile, we put out the word very quietly that true believers can get Pepsi here.”

  “Have I tried the Pepsi?”

  “Yes. That was the first one you drank.”

  “I can’t tell the difference.”

  If she’d been worried about Carter before, her concerns skyrocketed now. He stared at her, twitching vaguely, with his face going red.

  He leaned finally closer and ground out in a sort of a strangled voice, “Listen carefully… That is heresy.”

  The problem with humans, Aebura decided, was that you could never tell how serious they were. Sometimes when they were talking about very serious things, they would make jokes and understate the situation. Other times when the situation didn’t seem to warrant it at all, they were very serious. Were they simply incapable of determining how serious things were in any normal way, or did they really consider the distinction between two nearly-identical drinks to be an issue of religious significance?

  There was no way to tell.

  She briefly considered fleeing the planet.

  A moment later, she settled back on her haunches with a sigh. Humans, despite their flaws, were very useful and powerful.

  Though she could think of no reason for a human to care about the mines, the one named Barnabas had seemed sincere when he’d told her he was going to help the mine workers, and he had indeed set off into the mountains where the mines might lie. He was putting his safety at risk for people he didn’t know.

  Perhaps she should indulge the humans’ weird behavior—after a test, of course.

  “Carter Eastbourne, how do you feel about slavery?”

  Carter stood up very quickly and his face was very still, except for his eyes. He seemed to be trying to assess her mood.

  “Why? Do slaves make your goods?”

  “No. No!” She lashed her tail to add emphasis. “Never. I wish to know how you intend to produce this—and what you would do if you knew there were slaves nearby.”

  “I would send for backup from the Empire,” he said at once. “There are people there whose task it is to handle those things.” He squared his shoulders. “But if the Rangers couldn’t get here, I would try to do something about it myself.”

  There it was. Humans were foolhardy, but they were foolhardy in pursuit of freedom.

  “Tell me about the ‘Rangers.’” It was a word she did not know.

  “They travel alone—well, some of them—and when they see injustice they fight it. They are very strong fighters, and they are absolutely relentless when there are people being hurt. They’re led by a human named Barnabas.”

  Aebura went still.

  Barnabas was not simply a random human. He was one of the foremost humans, famous for his work in trying to gain Justice for the oppressed, and he had dedicated his life to this.

  And he was helping them; people no one else had ever cared about before. She bowed her head and rocked back and forth.

  “Aebura?” Carter sounded genuinely concerned. “Is something wrong? Do you need my help?”

  “No. We’ll be all right. Barnabas is helping us already. I just didn’t know who he was until you said that.” She ran her hands
along her tail worriedly. “It is a very great honor. We are only a few people who signed contracts with the wrong company.”

  “If Barnabas has decided to help you, he has his reasons,” Carter told her seriously. Then his eyes went wide. “He’s not here right now, is he? Oh my God, he’s standing right behind me, isn’t he? He knows about the Pepsi. What have you done?”

  “He’s not right behind you,” Aebura assured him.

  “Oh, thank God. Why would you scare me like that?”

  Aebura, who was not sure what she had done wrong, stayed silent.

  “Listen,” Carter continued seriously. “You absolutely must not tell Barnabas about the Pepsi.”

  Aebura narrowed her eyes. “You tell me that this Barnabas is a fighter for Justice, then you tell me to keep secrets from him? What is this Pepsi drink?”

  Carter’s eyes crinkled unexpectedly. “Think of this as a big prank members of the former Etheric Empire play on one another. Have you heard of Nathan Lowell, or perhaps Christina Bethany Anne Lowell?”

  “The small child who can turn into a large canine fighter? Don’t tell me she’s real.”

  “Oh, she is. Nathan is a…well, it’s a long story. Suffice it to say, he is one of the Empress’ closest friends, which is why his daughter shares her name. He has also set up secret facilities to make and distribute Pepsi. We might have some fights about it—really, I might get my ass handed to me—but this isn’t an issue of Justice.” He got a distant look in his eyes. “Or perhaps it is. Justice for the oppressed Pepsi drinkers of the world.”

  She still couldn’t tell if he was being serious, but she thought he was telling the truth about this not being an issue of Justice. She made a mental note to ask Barnabas about Pepsi in a roundabout sort of way the next time she saw him and snuck sips of the two beverages.

  Apparently she was going to have to learn the difference between them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gar walked at what he hoped was a normal pace. He wasn’t very good at deception. Even when he had cared about his own ambitions above everything else, he’d been honest about it. He had never been the person listening to everyone’s secrets and blackmailing them later, and he didn’t tell lies.