by Natalie Grey
Gar leaned over to Barnabas and murmured, “Eat some paste?”
Barnabas stifled his laugh. “It’s an Earth saying. Too much to explain. It means they’re stupid.”
“Ah.” Gar looked faintly sad. “So she’s really not going to blow their ship up?”
“Maybe I should stop you two from hanging out so much without direct supervision,” Barnabas said with a sigh. “You two bring out the worst in each other.”
“Or the best,” Shinigami and Gar responded in unison as the Shinigami put on a burst of speed and left their pursuer in the dust.
Zinqued and Chofal stared at one another in consternation. They were both still wide-eyed from the message they had received.
“What do you think it means to eat paste?” Chofal asked finally.
“I don’t know,” Zinqued admitted. “But they’re weak if they’re not going to shoot us down. It means we have another chance.”
“Zinqued—”
“I’m getting that ship.” Zinqued jabbed a finger at her. “I’m getting it.”
Chofal groaned. Next time, Paun might find out about what they had done, and they’d both get fired.
That was assuming the ship didn’t just shoot them down next time.
15
“So, the question is…” Barnabas brought up a holographic map of the quadrants that were relatively nearby. “Where is Uleq going?”
“We’re just asking that now?” Gar wondered.
Jeltor made a mechanical-sounding grumble of agreement.
“His ship was launched from a different set of systems than the main ones used on Virtue Station,” Barnabas explained. “They’re entirely partitioned, which means that Shinigami wasn’t able to get a toehold into them. All we have is their initial trajectory. She’s been working on finding more, but…”
“But they’re tricky sonsabitches,” Shinigami said succinctly. Her avatar frowned as it looked at the map. “They can’t hide everything from me, but they knew enough to hide a good deal of it. They’ve run some of the YCS ship departures through the main system, or possibly fed it false data with some heavy encryption, so if you’re looking at it, it doesn’t look like they’d have a second set of systems.”
Her avatar flickered and disappeared after that. Shinigami wasn’t in the mood to play human. She didn’t particularly want anyone looking at her.
She was pissed. She had thought she was making headway against the Yennai Corporation, and instead, they’d played her. It wasn’t personal, of course, but she still didn’t like coming in second to her opponents.
Not to mention letting down her friends.
“I guess they knew they’d make a very, very powerful enemy someday,” Barnabas said. He’d surmised the flow of Shinigami’s thoughts and was careful to steer the conversation free either of blame or absolution.
All that mattered was taking their enemies down. They would suffer setbacks and defeats, Barnabas knew. He was not foolish enough to think that they would always come out ahead. Indeed, he had learned over the years that failure was absolutely necessary for the long run.
Only with the taste of defeat would people strive to push the limits of what they could do, and only by pushing those limits could they hope to triumph when the stakes were high.
In this case, he knew that the Yennai Corporation was a cannier opponent than they had guessed. The organic structure surrounded a fierce and ruthless organization. He brought up the list of color-coded planets and stations. Red—where the corporation had enemies, Blue—where they had known agents, and Green, where they had a controlling stake. The glowing dots highlighted nearly every major system, including many capital planets for various alien species.
“This is the Yennai Corporation,” Barnabas explained. “Anything that gets this big is subject to many forces. As an organization, it will begin to command loyalty beyond simply what its leaders ask for. It is essentially a living thing now. It has made itself integral to the economic, security, and political systems of this entire sector. People will instinctively defend it.”
Shinigami’s avatar appeared again, this time no more than ten inches tall. She walked slowly through the holographic map, reaching out sometimes to touch various glimmers. Today, all hints of Tabitha’s features were gone, and she was pure Bethany Anne, from the determined mouth to the watchful eyes.
Barnabas watched her for a moment. She was clearly pondering the situation, and he guessed that she would tell them her conclusions only when they were close to finished. The way she interacted with the map looked almost random at this point, and he presumed that her instincts were guiding her toward a solution.
He cleared his throat to draw the team’s focus back to him. Whatever Shinigami was processing, she clearly didn’t want to be the center of attention right now.
“Often, organizations like this will get very big without any real plan. They simply want profits and political influence. They’ll lobby governments and give bribes. Those organizations have vulnerabilities that come from not really considering security at the start.
“Yennai is different. It’s beginning to look like they always planned to run this sector of space. They’ve been treating themselves as a government, making deliberate attempts to obtain the things governments need—a banking system, an army, mainframes with very high levels of security, and misdirection. I’m wondering if they intended to take over various governments one by one and fight the ones they couldn’t assimilate.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jeltor cut in. “They’ve been angling to get agents into the Jotun government for a year. They’re bold.”
Barnabas raised his eyebrows.
“I was there when Get’ruz Shipping joined the Yennai Corporation,” Jeltor said drily. “The Yennai delegates…well, they talked us down. One of the Get’ruz captains had struck at our supply chain, and we were about to make an example of them when a few Yennai ships showed up pretty much out of nowhere and started negotiating.” His jellyfish body swiveled slightly as he looked around at all of them from the clear tank at the power suit's center. “It didn’t look like they had many weapons on those ships or even good shielding capabilities, but it would have been suicidal to go into that situation without either, and I never got the impression that they were stupid.”
Shinigami paused in her map-wandering to look at him. She had found versions of this story alluded to in the syndicate files, but she hadn’t heard it told like this.
“They showed up and told the syndicate that if they joined the corporation, they’d be protected,” she reported. “I got the sense it was something they did a lot.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jeltor said. “They acted like it was the most natural thing for a business representative to put themselves between two armed fleets and start negotiating for peace.” He snorted. “Peace. It was just profit. They showed up a few weeks later on Jevvendi to start asking about trade deals.”
Barnabas watched him. Jeltor betrayed the inborn prejudices that had helped Yennai fly under the radar. Jeltor and the rest of the Jotun Navy had correctly guessed that the Yennai Corporation had a dangerous fleet.
And yet, when looking back at the incident, they assumed that Yennai wanted nothing more than money.
Barnabas thought back to Uleq’s run-in with Bethany Anne. As he studied the map in front of him, he became even more convinced that money was only part of what the Yennai Corporation wanted.
They wanted power—and the more he knew of them, the more he was sure that they absolutely should not have it. Whatever their endgame was, it was dangerous.
“There’s a message coming in,” Shinigami reported. “Jeltor, it’s a reply to the one you sent earlier.”
Jeltor’s body swung sharply to look at the avatar. “You intercepted that? How?” He sounded agitated.
“You used my systems to send it,” Shinigami pointed out.
“The encryption should have been unbreakable.” And his tone had more than a
hint of complaint to it. Clearly, Jeltor did not like the idea that they were spying on him.
Shinigami disappeared and appeared once more as a normally-sized human. She gave Jeltor an amused look. “From the high grade of weaponry on your suit, and the built-in encryption and messaging systems, I guessed you were part of the Jotun military—or at least upper class.”
Jeltor remained silent.
“It would be irresponsible for me not to monitor your communications,” she pointed out. “Especially when they were going to Jotun high command. And, since you had tried to hack me.”
Barnabas looked at Jeltor with raised eyebrows.
To his surprise, the Jotun acceded with good grace. “Can you agree, at least, that it would be irresponsible for me not to attempt to assess your capabilities?” he asked Shinigami. His body swiveled as he looked at Barnabas. “You’ve been instrumental in taking out any number of ships recently, and yet the Etheric Empire is no more. Trying to find out your allegiances and your capabilities was important.”
“You could have asked,” Barnabas pointed out mildly. “We’ve been nothing if not kind to you.”
But he could tell from the Jotun’s thoughts that he’d told the truth. As the days had worn on, Jeltor had become less guarded. He seemed to be more at ease in Barnabas’ presence, and often forgot to shield his thoughts. Barnabas had also learned to interpret the Jotun’s thoughts through the strange feel of them.
Jeltor had, indeed, been worried about what Barnabas intended to do in this sector.
“With all due respect,” Jeltor began. “A soldier doesn’t rely on words and explanations, but actions. Yours…have set me at ease, but I could not say I completely understand them. It is disconcerting, in someone with such weaponry.” Then he remembered Shinigami’s previous statement. “Shinigami, you said there was a message?”
“Yes. It’s just text, it simply says you are correct in your guess.” To Barnabas, Shinigami added, His message was easy enough to decrypt, but even then, it was oblique.
“You could hardly expect the Jotun Navy to send messages that were easily deciphered,” Jeltor scoffed. He sounded pleased by the message, however. “I had a hunch when we were at Virtue Station. You see, we saw Uleq and Crallus fleeing across the main floor from one of the banks. They knew they were being chased. There would be no reason for them to do anything other than switch ships…unless someone in the Yennai Corporation who outranked them had demanded it.”
Barnabas made a faint sound of satisfaction.
“I suggested as much to my colleagues, who looked into it.” Jeltor laid a small data disk on the table in front of Barnabas, and after Shinigami scanned it and gave the okay, Barnabas plugged it into the table.
The map disappeared, and several Torcellan faces appeared with dossiers. Jeltor pointed to the one in the very center of the display.
“This is Ilia Yennai. She is the heir to the Yennai Corporation and has proven herself a good leader, but her father still holds the bulk of the control in the company. It was my hunch that she was the one who ordered Uleq detained, and it would seem I was correct.”
“Why?” Barnabas asked.
“That, I don’t know.” Jeltor sounded pensive now. “Ilia’s a nasty character, and she’s been the heir for years. If you wanted someone ruthless as your successor, she’d be a good choice. The thing is, Uleq isn’t anyone to disregard, either. He’s been bouncing around for years, involving himself in various schemes, and while he hasn’t yet done anything like take down someone of your Empress’s caliber, he’s gotten closer than blind luck would allow.” He looked directly at Barnabas. “If you want my guess, I’d say that he’s closer to becoming heir than Ilia wants, and she’s determined to take him down.”
“Interesting.” Barnabas looked at Ilia’s face. She shared some of the same features as her brother, whose dossier hovered in the air. Their father was shown with what must be a very old photo. “What do we know about the father?”
“Almost nothing,” Jeltor answered. “He started the corporation when he was quite young and basically disappeared from the public eye. Honestly, it’s possible he’s no longer alive, and Ilia’s just pretending he is for some reason. I’d say that’s unlikely, but he hasn’t been seen in years.”
“Hmmm.”
“In any event,” Jeltor went on smoothly, “while we can’t tell you where their main base would be—we’ve been trying for years to figure it out—we can tell you what kind of weaponry you’ll find there if you ever track them down. Part of the message we received was giving me clearance to reveal that information.”
Barnabas smiled. “What a coincidence,” he said. “We just happen to know where their base is. I’m guessing if we were to go take it out…Jotun high command wouldn’t exactly be upset.”
“Not at all.” Jeltor sounded pleased. “They’re worried at how many of our politicians seem to have been bribed. Take them out, and you won’t have any interference from our Navy.”
“I think that’s settled then.” Barnabas looked at Shinigami. “Set a course, and let’s figure out how to take out this base.”
16
Zinqued lounged in the ship’s tiny rec room with a few other members of the crew, playing a new game called ‘checkers,’ when Paun strode into the room in a fury.
“Did you think you would just get away with it?” he demanded.
Zinqued shot a hard look at Chofal, who gave a tiny, terrified shake of her head. She hadn’t told Paun what happened.
Paun saw the look, and his lips tightened in anger. “I reviewed the ship’s logs,” he said contemptuously. “I saw that we pursued a ship last night and that you launched something. I saw the record of the message that came in from the human. Why would you take such a risk? You know how dangerous that human ship is.”
“If we catch that ship—” Zinqued began.
Paun barked. “Don’t tell me again that we’ll be rich if we catch the ship. I spent a long time assembling a crew that wasn’t stupid enough to do things like that—or, I thought I did. The people who go for the big prizes are the ones who get killed. They get greedy, and greedy people get stupid, and stupid people get dead. Are you stupid, Zinqued?”
Zinqued stood up. Anger pounded in his blood.
“How long since we’ve caught a ship?” He stared Paun down. “We haven’t had a haul in weeks. You said yourself that good catches are getting fewer and farther between. Catch this one, and we’re set for months—years, even.”
Paun’s face was still unfriendly, but he didn’t look as sure anymore. “Just because we haven’t had a good take doesn’t mean we should do something stupid,” he said.
But the weakness was there.
Zinqued pressed his advantage. “We don’t have to do something stupid. We know what kinds of tricks they can see through now, and we have information about the other people they took down. We can learn their weaknesses and set a trap for them.”
Paun crossed his arms. He was listening, and so was the rest of the crew.
“They have good detection systems,” Zinqued explained. “So we need to arrange an ambush somewhere they won’t be able to see us coming. There are places nearby with electromagnetic interference or a lot of radio traffic. We’d want to find one of those. Their anti-hacking systems are top-notch, so we can’t rely on hacking to bring the ship under control. We need to use good, old-fashioned manual controls.”
He snuck a glance at Paun and was pleased to see the other alien looked amenable to this.
“Finally,” Zinqued resumed. “We know they can fire multiple spreads of weapons at once, but that they don’t like to hurt innocent ships. My suggestion would be to get multiple mercenary ships and disguise them as cargo or transport ships, meaning that the Shinigami won’t fire on them. A few of them will be able to dock, and board and they can overpower the relatively small crew.”
He’d almost had it, but now Paun’s brows snapped together.
“Multiple mercenar
y ships?” Paun sounded halfway between incredulous and absolutely filled with rage. “Are you insane? We’re going after them because our funds are running low. Where are you going to get money to—”
“They’ll only get paid if they take the ship down,” Zinqued broke in, but Paun wasn’t convinced in the slightest.
“No one’s going to take on that ship without a deposit,” he said. “You do something like this again, and you’re fired.”
He walked away, determined to have the last word, but Zinqued called after him: “If I find the mercenaries to do the work for ten percent of the take, will you do it?” It was an audacious plan, but he really had nothing to lose. Even when Paun turned to him with a weary look, Zinqued did not waver.
“Yeah, sure.” Paun looked at Zinqued like he was a toddler throwing a tantrum. “If you find some crews to do that, you let me know.” He walked away shaking his head. He thought there was about as much chance of that, as finding out that stars came with on-off switches.
Zinqued, not deterred by his attitude, gave a triumphant look at Chofal. “I’m going to go send some messages.”
“Zinqued.” She sank her face into her hands. “You’re getting obsessed. Paun’s right; no one will want to do this for that small a share of the take.”
Did you hear what happened at Virtue Station?” Zinqued asked. “He killed a bunch of the bankers’ guards. I’m betting we can get some people who want the Shinigami taken down.”
It would be easy enough, after all, to turn the crew members over to Virtue Station’s justice and pretend the Shinigami had been damaged beyond repair in the fight.
He could do this. For this payout, he’d find a way to pull it off.
A message bleeped on the screen, and Uleq leaned forward to peer at it. His eyebrows went up, and he settled in to send a response.