The Vigilante Chronicles Omnibus

by Natalie Grey

  She had a point, in that the captain looked nervous rather than reassured. Kelnamon was wringing his hands, and finally said, “What sort of legal experience?” His tone sounded like he was expecting to hear Barnabas admit to going around lopping people’s heads off at the drop of a hat.

  Go on, Shinigami urged wickedly, Tell him.

  I’m not sure this is a good idea.

  She was grinning like a Cheshire Cat by now, and Barnabas wished he hadn’t said anything. He had no choice, however. He met the captain’s eyes and gave a small shrug. “Before the Etheric Empire disbanded, I was one of the Empress’ Rangers.”

  “He was Ranger One,” Shinigami clarified.

  The Brakalon looked more nervous than ever. “This is Brakalon business. There’s no reason the Etheric Empire has to get involved.”

  “There is no Etheric Empire anymore,” Barnabas explained. “I am no longer an instrument of the Empress’ Justice, but instead of…Justice in general.” When Kelnamon looked blankly at him, he clarified: “I travel, find issues that require intervention, and aid anyone who needs me. At present, it seems like you need someone.”

  The captain looked like a very massive deer caught in headlights.

  Barnabas fought the urge to sigh deeply. He drew himself up, smiled his best do-not-even-think-of-weaseling-out-of-this smile, and asked, “So what’s going on?”

  Kelnamon was startled into speech. Barnabas’ question didn’t offer the possibility of turning down help, and in any case, the captain was desperate. He dropped into his chair—which creaked ominously—and began, “One of the passengers was murdered.”

  Oh, now this is interesting, Shinigami commented.

  You can say that again. Barnabas kept his face from showing any emotion and nodded for the captain to continue, moving to take the other chair.

  What he did not do was waste time feigning shock and horror. Most people would, and Kelnamon might allow his emotions to get the better of him, allowing not only shock to overwhelm him, but also fear about allowing Barnabas to intervene. At Barnabas’s nod, however, the captain shook himself and simply continued with the tale.

  “It happened in his cabin. A crew member went to clean the room, and he was dead. It was neatly done. Someone had gone through his things.”

  “You say, ‘Neatly done.’ Tell me about that.” Barnabas was intrigued.

  “The wires that held—well, he was Jotun. I should mention that, or it won’t make sense.”

  Coincidence? Barnabas asked. A Jotun dead, and another hiding near the place of the murder dispatching anyone who might try to investigate.

  Shinigami didn’t even bother responding to such an obvious question.

  Kelnamon gave a few half-hearted attempts at explaining power sources and electronic systems and finally gave up. “His suit was ruined. When I arrived, I smashed the tank to get him out, but it was too late. He had already overheated—and suffocated.” As he spoke, the memory played out in his mind vividly, and Barnabas could see the truth of it.

  “That’s how you’d do it, I guess.” Barnabas scratched his head.

  The captain gave him a look. “Which is why the Jotuns have a very large number of backups and safety measures in their suits.”

  Barnabas paused. “So you’re suggesting...”

  “The person who did this knew a lot about the suits in general, and probably knew a lot about his suit in particular,” Kelnamon said flatly. “They chose a time when Captain Ferqar—his friend—was out—”

  “Tell me about the friend,” Barnabas interrupted. A conveniently-absent bunkmate was an interesting detail.

  “Another ship’s captain,” the captain explained. He shrugged. “Nothing particularly noteworthy about him. Well, I guess the fact that they were traveling with us in the first place. But it happens.”

  “Another ship’s captain, as in, you’re saying that the murdered Jotun was also a ship’s captain?”

  “Something in the navy.” The Brakalon shrugged. “I don’t know what, though. We sent a message to report it to them, and no one has come to check. We got word from someone in the government that they had received the message, and then…nothing.” Kelnamon looked at Barnabas. “You said there were more destroyed ships. Was that one of them?”

  “A Jotun ship was destroyed,” Barnabas said neutrally.

  “Great. So no one’s coming to help.”

  I’m here, Barnabas commented to Shinigami, somewhat nettled.

  We. We’re here. Don’t be so self-important.

  Are you taking up murder investigations now?

  Might as well. I’d make a good detective. The captain’s been pretty honest with you, by the way—that is, assuming Brakalons have the same tells as humans for lying. No increased heart rate, sweating, or other signs of stress. His eyes don’t shift suddenly to one side when he speaks.

  Research whether those are tells for Brakalons, Barnabas told her. I won’t need them, but they’ll be useful for Gar and Tafa.

  The captain barely noticed the small pause in their conversation. “And no one else will be coming because those other ships were supposed to handle it and they haven’t reported back,” Kelnamon said tonelessly.

  “Yes.” Barnabas considered this. “Therefore, I will be happy to investigate the murder and apprehend the killer. I will even be happy to bring them back to the proper jurisdiction.” When the captain looked at him warily, Barnabas shrugged. “You’re floating here with a shipload of fractious passengers and dwindling supplies, losing paying time, and you’ve got a murderer on the loose.”

  The captain gulped and nodded. “Right. I’ll, uh—right. Given the circumstances, I think it would be possible to turn this investigation over to you.”

  “Good.” It was convenient, especially since Barnabas had intended to investigate the murder whether the captain said yes or no.

  Heads up, Shinigami reported, someone is trying to get onto our ship.

  Species?

  Not sure. And without knowing that, it’s hard to determine gender, either.

  Hmm. You have footage of them?

  Yes.

  File that away. I wouldn’t rule out curiosity or simple panic at this point, but it’s good to have a trail.

  So…you’re saying I can’t zap them?

  You can’t zap them. And you can’t use flamethrowers.

  We officially know each other too well.

  Agreed. Barnabas nodded to the captain, the exchange with Shinigami having taken only a split second. “Tell me everything you know.”

  “I don’t know much,” the captain admitted. “His friend hasn’t said much. If you asked me, I’d say he had something to hide, but we have accounted for all his movements. We did check.” He sounded defensive.

  “Good,” Barnabas said again. “I’ll need a timeline of his movements from when he got on the ship, as well as the deceased’s… What was his name, by the way?”

  “Huword.”

  Barnabas nodded. “We’ll start with your suspicions. Take me to Huword’s traveling companion.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” Kelnamon nodded, and his emotions were so strong that Barnabas did not even have to reach out to feel them.

  The captain was terrified. Of what, Barnabas could not yet say. It could be nothing, he told himself as he followed Kelnamon from the room. With the Brakalon government ship destroyed, a murderer on board, and a strange authority taking over the case, Kelnamon had plenty of reasons to be worried.

  But as his fears swirled, one thing was clear: Barnabas was at the center of them.

  And why, Barnabas wondered, might that be?

  Chapter Four

  Before speaking to the dead captain’s traveling companion, Barnabas detoured back to the Shinigami to call Jeltor.

  He had a secondary motive as well: getting his crew back onto the ship now that he knew there was a murderer on the loose. He was worried that one of them would ask the wrong questions and get hurt.

  H
e knew better than to tell any of them this, however. He had the sneaking suspicion that the first thing Gar and Shinigami would try to do would be to prove him wrong and go off asking questions.

  Tafa, on the other hand, would probably be sensible about the whole thing. Barnabas enjoyed having someone on the ship who didn’t have a death wish.

  Shinigami connected the call while Barnabas sipped a glass of fruit juice. The ship was down to one of its last two cases, and he was beginning to get anxious about finishing their mission in time to go to High Tortuga and get more. Aebura, an Ubuara female who lived on the planet, had a secret recipe that Barnabas adored, and no matter how much the others teased him, he couldn’t quite give up his addiction.

  The screen cleared to show a Jotun. Which Jotun, Barnabas was not quite sure. He had begun to learn the vague feel of his acquaintances’ thoughts and generally used that to identify individual Jotuns in person, but that wasn’t a tactic he could use on a holocall.

  “Jeltor?” He tapped the side of his screen as though it weren’t working. “Video hasn’t come online yet.”

  Liar.

  Why are you watching?

  I watch everything.

  Luckily, no deception was necessary. “It’s me,” Jeltor said. The voice filtering from his suit was warm and pleasant.

  “Oh, good. How are you?” Jeltor had been the subject of a trial for treason, the charges having been brought against him by corrupt senators. Although Jeltor had assured him that it would be fine, Barnabas had worried about leaving before the Senate had dropped the charges.

  “I’m fine.” Jeltor sounded amused now. “Are you going to call every few days like a—what was the phrase Shinigami used?—mother hen?”

  Barnabas was opening his mouth to argue when he realized that the term suited him rather well. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “I don’t see the problem with checking on my friends.”

  “It’s much appreciated,” Jeltor hastened to say. “On the other hand, don’t you think you have more important things to worry about? I get the sense that fighting smugglers and corporations is a regular day-to-day thing for you.” His body bobbed in a way that suggested emotion, and a moment later, he asked, “Speaking of which, did you find the ship making that distress call?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s my other reason for calling.” Barnabas considered how best to approach this. “It’s a Brakalon-registered civilian transport. Tell me, what do you know of a Captain Huword?”

  “Huword?” Jeltor sounded surprised. “Great guy.”

  “So you know him,” Barnabas confirmed with a sinking feeling in his gut.

  “Know him? We went through the naval academy together.” Jeltor chuckled. “You could say we were rivals, but really, we were good friends. We were just in the same ability class together, and we always tried to outdo one another. It wasn’t just messing around, either. I think it kept us both sharp.”

  “Ability class.” Barnabas frowned. The Jotun Naval captains controlled whole ships in the same way normal Jotuns controlled their bio-suits. “You mean, the same class of ships?”

  “Yeah.” Jeltor bobbed slightly. “Both of us tested up to frigate class. Not what we wanted, of course, but most people don’t even make it into the academy to start with.”

  Barnabas nodded. The idea of trying to control the entire function of a warship with his mind was enough to give him a splitting headache. He gestured for Jeltor to keep talking. He did not want to tell the Jotun that his friend was dead. It was a bit cold, but he wanted, as much as possible, to get a good picture of the type of person Huword had been before Jeltor knew he was dead.

  After all, people didn’t get murdered for no reason, and the lack of other murders suggested that someone had targeted Huword specifically. Not because he’d interrupted another crime, for instance.

  “There’s not much more to say, I guess.” Jeltor sounded nonplussed. “He was recently moved to the Gar’aemon. That might be something.” Seeing Barnabas’ confusion, he explained, “They moved him from one frigate to another. Huword was captain of the Juteld, which flies with the main bulk of the navy. We haven’t been in a war in ages, so there wasn’t much to do there, but it was in the center of everything. The Gar’aemon is a scout ship. It patrols the borders of our territory. A lot more to do, but possibly a demotion. No one was sure.” He paused. “I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him about it.”

  Barnabas leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at the far wall, spinning a pen between his fingers as he thought. A possible demotion was an interesting detail, but he would think it more likely that the demoted captain would be the killer rather than the victim.

  “What about Huword’s other friends?” Asking about enemies might give Jeltor a suspicion of what was going on.

  Jeltor considered this, and Barnabas wished he knew what the Jotun was thinking. “It’s hard to think of anyone in particular,” Jeltor said finally. “Gollwin, maybe? I haven’t kept up with Huword lately so I couldn’t tell you.”

  “But you remember him fondly.”

  “Oh, yes. I can’t think of many who wouldn’t. Just the usual assortment everyone builds up, romantic rivals and so on, and there weren’t even many of those who didn’t like Huword.”

  Barnabas tried not to get sidetracked by the idea of a Jotun romance. Would there be flowers of some kind? What kind of music did jellyfish listen to when they—

  He’d been living with Shinigami for too long.

  “Why are you asking?” Jeltor inquired now.

  Barnabas steeled himself. “He was murdered.” There was a long pause, during which the Jotun did not move. “Jeltor?”

  “Murdered?” Jeltor repeated faintly.

  Barnabas grimaced. “I’m afraid so. Hence the distress call.”

  “Why were they on a civilian transport?”

  “I don’t know.” Barnabas shook his head. “I was hoping you could tell me. Shed some light on who Huword was, and why someone might want to kill him.”

  “It wasn’t…some random thing, then.” Jeltor was clearly agitated, the light bouncing off his trembling body as it floated in his suit.

  Barnabas thought of the mysterious Jotun ship, and the network of satellites Shinigami had seen. “No. At this point, there’s no chance. He was targeted. The killer knew the workings of Huword's suit and was blocking anyone from coming to investigate.”

  “What?”

  “There was another ship waiting, and it had destroyed two ships who responded to the signal. It tried to take us out as well.”

  “You captured it, right?” Jeltor was pulsing now, something Barnabas assumed meant he was angry.

  “We tried. They self-destructed. There’s allegedly a Jotun government ship on the way, but they haven’t shown up yet, and Shinigami hasn’t seen them on the scanners. The Brakalon government ship was destroyed, as was a Shrillexian I assume had come to prey on the Srisa while it was stopped.”

  Jeltor thrashed slightly in the water. “Murdered,” he repeated. “It isn’t possible. It can’t be! He was so young. He was my age!”

  “I know.” Barnabas realized he had no idea what Jeltor’s age was. “I hoped you would tell me something that would make it obvious why he was killed, but it doesn’t sound like he had any particular enemies.”

  “None who would do something like this!” Jeltor twisted and turned inside his suit’s tank. “And who would do something like this? Why hold other ships away from the Srisa instead of just destroying it outright? It doesn’t make sense. Who was running that ship?”

  “A Jotun, we’re fairly sure, but the ship was not of a make we’d ever seen before.”

  “Another Jotun?” Jeltor lapsed into a stream of cursing that did not particularly require translation—which was good since apparently a great deal of it was colloquial and wasn’t translated by his implants. “I suppose that would make sense, although you told me that someone who understood the suits killed him.”

 
Barnabas waited. As a friend, he wanted to reassure Jeltor right now. As someone invested in this case, however, he wanted to see what Jeltor would say. Shock was a powerful jolt to the system, and often it provided clarity, allowing someone to think of or reveal a fact they would not otherwise allow themselves to see.

  All Jeltor said, however, was, “You must solve this. Do you want me to come?”

  “No, that’s not necessary.” Barnabas couldn’t help laughing. “I was nervous enough leaving you there with the treason charges. I’m hardly going to take you away from that, only for you to wind up on a ship with an assassin who’s killing Jotun ship’s captains.”

  Jeltor managed a laugh as well, but it died quickly. “I mean it, Barnabas.”

  “I know you do,” Barnabas hastened to assure him. “But give me some time to solve it on my own. I was only half-joking when I said this would be a dangerous place for you. Whoever came for him might come for you, too, and I’m not going to stand for that.”

  Jeltor said nothing, presumably lost in thought.

  “He was traveling with a Captain Ferqar,” Barnabas said. “Any knowledge of…him? Her? I’m sorry, I can’t tell gender from your names yet.”

  “Why would you be able to tell that?” Jeltor asked, sounding mystified. “Do other species have names that vary from gender to gender?”

  “Yes?”

  “How confusing. We don’t. Anyway, Ferqar also does border patrols. It makes sense that they would be traveling together—as much as any of this makes sense.”

  “Interesting. The captain of the Srisa said it seems like he’s hiding something.”

  “He might be.” Jeltor sounded grim now. “Who else would know everything about Huword?”

  “He wasn’t the one who killed him. His movements are all accounted for, I’m afraid. Whether he was an accomplice, though… That, I don’t know.”

  Jeltor considered this. “Solve it,” he said again. “You have to. Whoever would come for Huword—they’re dangerous, Barnabas. It could be the Senate trying to get back at us for what we did with the Yennai Corporation.”