by Natalie Grey
He looked at Jeltor, whose gun was still pointed at him. There was no shot being charged.
“Jeltor,” Barnabas repeated. “Come back.”
Jeltor stared at that familiar face and felt his world flipping.
Barnabas was right. The rush of pleasure he felt when he did Grisor’s bidding was strong, but even the overwhelming strength of it could not wipe away that one moment of knowing he was betraying himself.
When he had first come here, the little voice that told him so had been quiet, but after seeing Barnabas come for Grisor the first time, the voice had gotten stronger.
Unmoored like a ship in a storm. Jeltor struggled to make sense of himself. He longed for the certainty that he’d been promised when they’d tortured him, and yet he knew it was false.
Either way.
“You don’t know that it can be undone,” he told Barnabas. Speaking those words was terrifying, and the fear filled him with the urge to run back to Grisor and seek refuge in the lies.
“I have faith,” Barnabas assured him after a moment. “I can’t offer you certainty or a way out, Jeltor, but I have faith that we will find one together.”
“What do you have to do with it?” Jeltor asked cruelly. “Taking credit for someone else’s work again?”
“No.” Barnabas winced at the words but then smiled reassuringly. “I cannot do the work for you. I can only be your friend. But, Jeltor, I pulled myself out of madness alone—for self-preservation and nothing more. That is not something I would wish on you. I want you to have friends by your side as you do this; friends whose belief in you will see you through the dark moments.”
“We’re here, Jeltor,” Gar chimed in.
Jeltor looked sharply at him and saw Gar’s instinctive desire to reach for his weapon, but the Luvendi held himself steady and did not do so.
They were not going to kill him. Jeltor was not sure if the feeling in his chest was relief or hopelessness.
“I can’t do this,” he told them all. “It can’t be undone; it’s too much. I’ll always be a risk.”
“Jeltor—” Barnabas began.
“No! Listen. They’re going to take Kordinev first.”
“Jeltor—”
“Listen! I don’t know how much time I have, how long I can hold onto this, before the conversion takes over again.” Already, it was calling him. A false refuge was still a refuge, and thinking of decades of struggle was too much to bear. He fixed his mind on the one objective he had: to tell them what the Committee was planning.
Once he had told them, he could rest.
“They’ll go for Kordinev,” he said again. “The Brakalon homeworld. They’re still deciding on a plan, but their first thought is to take over the government with a few high-level officials and begin converting people before anyone knows they’ve been taken over. Once the army is converted, they’ll have a fighting force few could defeat.”
“Infantry isn’t the most useful thing these days,” Barnabas mused.
“No, but the Jotuns don’t have them,” Jeltor countered. “At the same time, they’ll be working to convert our admirals and work their way into the programming of the ships. Right now, there are failsafes—if an admiral loses control, individual captains can take back control of their ships. It’s never been used, but they all know the protocol. The Committee is working to undo that. They’ll have Brakalon infantry and strike teams, and the Jotun Navy. With those, they can do almost anything they want to.”
Barnabas gave a quick nod.
“They’re arguing,” Jeltor continued. “They have the technology and they know they need to move fast, but with the first team of scientists gone, they aren’t certain how often they’ll need to refresh the conversion or how many they can convert at once.”
The Jotun they had brought with them made a small, satisfied noise. “Good.”
Jeltor could feel his sanity starting to slip. “That’s all I know,” he told Barnabas desperately. “They’re still making the plan for Kordinev. You’ll need a resource on the ground there if you can get a Brakalon. I don’t know—”
He was having trouble concentrating.
“Jeltor, stay with me.” Barnabas’ voice was urgent.
“I can’t; it’s too much.” He was so afraid. So afraid, and so weary. He could not do this for the rest of his life.
“Just for a moment,” Barnabas urged. “Then another, Jeltor. Moment by moment. The more you practice, the easier it will become. I’ve done this before. I know it’s possible.”
“I—can’t!” Barnabas began to step forward, and he was overcome with terror. They would try to help him, keep him in this absolute hell, and he couldn’t bear it. Jeltor shot, this time with his gun. Bullets sprayed around the room and his former crewmates dove for cover.
When they were no longer looking, Jeltor ejected himself from his tank and dove into the water of the pools, darting for safety in the small alcoves where they could not follow.
“Fuck!” Shinigami yelled as she threw herself sideways.
“Are you hurt?” Barnabas called. He had every faith in the structural integrity of her cybernetic body, but who knew what might get jostled or disrupted by a hard hit? “Is something broken?”
“No, but he ruined my jacket. I really liked this one!”
“Focus.” Barnabas scrambled up and saw the suit standing oddly still. It took only a split-second to note the empty tank. “Filius canis. He’s in the pools.”
“How do you catch a jellyfish that doesn’t want to be caught?” Shinigami asked philosophically as she came to stand beside him.
“I’m going to be honest; I don’t think you do,” Barnabas admitted. “At least, not without a great deal of time that I’m guessing we don’t have.”
Guys, he tripped something, Tafa reported in the same moment. There are guards converging on your position.
“Yep.” Barnabas rubbed his head. “That sounds about right.”
“Come on,” Shinigami urged. “Let’s get out. You were right; this was the way to get through to him, but we’ll need to come back.” She stopped when she saw his facial expression. “What?”
“We’re not leaving,” Barnabas told her. “Not empty-handed, anyway. Progress with Jeltor is good, but we are not leaving until we have something more.”
“So, what are we trying to get?”
“You know,” Barnabas told her, “I’m not quite sure.” He took out his Jean Dukes and primed them, giving her a beatific smile. “I’m thinking of just letting the moment guide me.”
“Oh, good,” Shinigami replied. “You’ve decided to wing it. I’ll have you know we rely on you to be the buzzkill who makes sure we have a plan.”
“You used to, you mean.” Barnabas strode to the door. “All right, motherfuckers, let’s have some fun.”
Chapter Ten
Barnabas yanked on the door and sighed when it was locked. “Of course, they had him in a prison. Of course, they did.” Tafa? Shinigami? Can either of you open this door?
I’ve got it, Tafa said. Locating you and working on the grid, one moment. A few interminable seconds passed while everyone twiddled their fingers and Shinigami edged closer to the door, looking uncertain, then a click sounded. You should be good to go.
Thank you. Barnabas added privately to Shinigami, Thank you for letting her handle it.
Shinigami nodded with a faint gleam of a smile and held the door for the rest of them to head into the corridor.
Tafa, what’s the layout of the soldiers?
They’re spreading out across the gardens to block all exits, Tafa reported. They still don’t seem to know you got in from the roof. Do you need any particular kind of exit? Is Jeltor coming with you willingly?
Barnabas and Shinigami exchanged stricken looks.
Oh, no, Shinigami said quietly to Barnabas.
It’s a long story, Barnabas replied. But knowing where the soldiers are is a big help. You should see us soon!
All right,
Tafa said after a moment. Her tone said that she knew something was wrong, and she was trying to keep herself calm.
They didn’t have any time to lose. Barnabas turned toward the bulk of the building and took off at a run. He was going to try to strike a delicate balance between getting something good out of this before anyone knew where he was going and getting enough of the guards to follow him that their path to the ship would be clear.
An idea came to him. Everyone think: what would we do if we were planning to take this place out now? I’m not saying that’s what we’re doing, I’m just saying that’s what we want them to think we’re doing.
Take down the automated defensive systems, Shinigami shot back promptly.
Close any electronic doors and lock them to keep people partitioned, Gilwar added.
Go straight for Grisor and hold him hostage, Gar suggested finally. It’s not necessarily the best thing to do, but it’s one of the things that signals the intention.
Good. We’ll do all of that. Barnabas shot them a grin.
I’ll get the doors, Gilwar offered. If someone can find me Grisor’s last known location, I can just leave open the doors that lead us straight to him.
Working on it! Tafa sounded glad of the distraction. I’ll let you know.
I’ll get the defensive systems, Shinigami said. She detoured to something that looked like a totally normal wall panel and popped it open with a gentle touch on a specific point. It lifted and slid up into the ceiling to reveal a large control panel. Cover me.
What is it like to be you? Barnabas asked rhetorically. He nodded at Gar, and the two of them took up flanking positions to protect Shinigami and Gilwar. Barnabas was anticipating that as soon as the soldiers realized they’d stopped at a control panel, things would escalate very quickly.
Gilwar, I’ve sent Grisor’s last known location as a ping to your biosuit’s scanner, Tafa said. I’m tracking him visually on the security feeds. He’s going to his chambers, alone, and he has a lot of shields and so on in there. A panic…pod-thing, it looks like.
Good, Barnabas said. That had given him an idea. He was pretty sure his grin was the one Shinigami called his “evil-sneaky smile.” Apparently, even an AI couldn’t come up with a good combination of those two words.
Are you going to tell us what you’re planning? Gar asked curiously.
Not yet, Barnabas replied.
That’s so he can claim whatever he does was his master-plan, Shinigami offered. Don’t believe him; he’s full of crap.
Yeah, yeah. Barnabas kept his gun half-raised and slightly unfocused his eyes on the hallway in front of him so he could react quickly when guards came into sight. He could hear their footsteps. Tafa, how many are on the way?
You have…ten or so coming from the gardens. They’ve left some there.
I was hoping they wouldn’t be so smart. Ah, well. Any coming from the other direction?
Five.
Gar, you ready?
Of course, I am, Gar said. Especially since I gain an extra second or two every time by them being surprised to see a Luvendi with a gun in armor.
Barnabas snickered.
Defensive systems turned off, Shinigami reported.
Doors closing, Gilwar added. Indeed, doors started slamming down nearby, and there were concerned shouts.
All right, move! Barnabas stopped guarding the garden side and joined Gar, pelting down the hallway. Let’s see how many more we can get out of the garden and following us. As for these...
They’re around the next corner, Tafa reported.
Excellent.
The Shinigami’s crew was already firing as they came around a corner. One of Barnabas’ shots carried a Jotun guard back into another of its teammates. The two of them together clipped a third as they went over, sending a wild shot over Shinigami’s head and leaving only two of the five up and firing.
Gar took out one of those two with a careful shot. At the beginning, he had been very impulsive when it came to combat, but he was learning to take his time.
To Barnabas’ surprise, Gilwar took out the other. His shot was a bolt of energy similar to Jeltor’s, and it was directed with immense precision at the biosuit’s neck. Whatever internal mechanism it hit, the suit shut down almost immediately, jerking and flailing as the Jotun thudded to its knees.
Shinigami gave a whoop as she took two long, loping steps and launched into the air, to come down on the pile of three other Jotuns. She grabbed the first, who had been rendered very dead by the Jean Dukes round, and used it as a mace to take out the other two. Her human-sized body did not look capable of wielding the biosuit with ease, which made the whole thing much better.
She gave them a delighted grin when she was finished. Since she was an android she was not even panting, something Gar looked vaguely annoyed by.
“Come on!” she urged. “This way to Senator Scumbag!”
Gilwar seemed to find this hilarious. He was still chortling as they took off down the hall.
Grisor is now inside his panic pod, Tafa reported.
Very good, Barnabas replied. His evil grin was back. I assume there are more soldiers mobilizing?
They’re trying, but Gilwar has the doors locked down. They can’t seem to get them open.
If the biosuit’d had a human face, Barnabas assumed it would look very smug. As it was, Gilwar was fluttering inside his tank in a way that reminded Barnabas of jazz hands. He stifled a snort.
All right, we’ll do what we can before they get through—if they do at all.
You’re coming right up on the office, Tafa told them. One more door, and…yep, that’s it.
Thank you, Tafa. Barnabas wrenched the door open. Privately, he added one more command to Tafa. From her amusement, he could tell she knew what his plan was.
He went into the room, holstering his guns, and was pleased to see that the panic pod was clear. Grisor could see them—and he looked quite smug.
“Look who it is,” he began. “Barnabas…without Captain Jeltor.”
“Mmm.” Barnabas grunted noncommittally. He did not want to give Grisor anything to fixate on when it came to Jeltor. “And you’re here in this piddly little glass thing. You know, there’s a human colloquialism about glass houses. It might even be considered applicable, in a broad sense.”
“You think you can get through it?” Grisor asked smoothly. “You can’t. You could direct every ounce of firepower you have at it and you still wouldn’t even be close.”
“Really?” Barnabas drew his Jean Dukes.
This is a trap, Shinigami cautioned him. He knows it can withstand firepower, so he’s trying to tempt you into using all your ammo.
I think so, too. But by playing along, we’re just filling the time so he doesn’t figure out our real plan.
What is our real plan? Although I have to say, it’s nice to know we have one.
Yes, isn’t it? And I’m not telling just yet. Everyone fire. Barnabas aimed and let loose.
For almost a minute, there was no sound except deafening roars as everyone’s guns went off and kept doing so. When the smoke cleared, there were a couple of scorch marks on the box, but nothing else, and Grisor was wearing a smug smile.
“Now you see how outmatched you are,” he announced. “Look at me, defenseless inside this pod…but you can’t breach it.”
“We’ll find a way,” Barnabas told him, schooling his voice to sound arrogant. “Your soldiers are locked out. We can pry it open and get you out.”
Grisor’s suit turned just slightly as if looking at something. Barnabas followed his glance and saw a strange device in the corner; something handheld.
Apparently, Grisor wanted them to think that thing could open the pod. Barnabas considered, then went over and retrieved it.
Shinigami?
Not sure what it does—or if it does anything, actually.
Safe to bring on board the ship?
I’d say so. We’ll just— Then she realized. Oh, you are evil.
I know. Barnabas gave her a smile and then looked up as the whole room shuddered and the roof began to peel back.
Grisor looked up. “What are you doing?”
“You’re right that we can’t get you out of the pod,” Barnabas said. “Not in short order, anyway. But what we can do? We can get the pod out of the room.”
A large metal claw dropped through the now-open patch of ceiling and locked on. A current running through the claw managed to freeze Grisor in place when he put out an arm to steady himself.
Barnabas didn’t want him using a self-destruct.
As the pod began to withdraw into the sky, he nodded at the rest of the team. “Get ready for extraction. We’re not leaving empty-handed now.”
He was still smiling when Tafa’s voice broke in, high with worry.
Guys? We have a big problem.
Chapter Eleven
What’s going on? Barnabas demanded. Tafa?
They’ve got ships warming up. Tafa was about five seconds away from full-on panic. They’re going to try to shoot us down.
Fat chance, Shinigami said darkly. Let me at ‘em, and I’ll burn this whole fucking place to the ground.
There are too many! Tafa’s voice was rising, fear vibrating into the Etheric. Get back to the ship, please? PLEASE! We have to get out of here.
Another claw descended from the Shinigami’s belly, and the whole team darted over to grab it. Shinigami ordered it to ascend. Her cybernetic face was utterly blank as she focused on scanning the area around them to figure out where the ships were, and on making sure they would be safe inside before any ground forces got to them.
They barely made it. They were just being drawn into the ship when a scatter of gunfire burst out below them. The hatch slammed shut under their feet, and they dropped onto the deck with sighs of relief—only to feel the ship shudder as Shinigami directed a few shots back.