The Vigilante Chronicles Boxed Set 1

by Natalie Grey

  “Chofal, focus. Have you forgotten that we’re going to be stealing a much better ship than this one?”

  “Oh!” She brightened visibly. “Right. Just wait till you see that one,” she confided in Dretkalor. “Absolutely beautiful. Just gorgeous. Every system—”

  “All right, everyone except Zinqued off my bridge,” Tik’ta snapped. “Go wax poetically about dream ships somewhere else.”

  Everyone else shuffled out. Chofal was too engaged in her monologue even to be shamed. They heard her chattering all the way to her bunk to pick up her tools and her spacesuit.

  Tik’ta rolled her eyes. “Neither of them ever stops talking, do they?”

  “That’s enough,” Zinqued admonished. It seemed like the sort of thing a captain would say. He didn’t want any ill feeling to spring up between his crew.

  Tik’ta sighed, but as their target drew closer, she needed to focus on that. Over the past few days, she had needed to learn the systems on the Julentai and hadn’t gotten the time she needed in the cockpit to learn them.

  Nevertheless, she had piloted similar ships. As their target passed by, she lifted the Julentai away from a piece of rock, flipped it, and slid under the other ship.

  There were many subtle and highly technical ways to steal a ship. The Julentai had none of them. What it did have was a broadwave transmitter that flooded all the ship’s channels with random data, an EMP pulse that knocked out the systems and allowed the Julentai to take hold of them, and multiple clamps that held the ship in place.

  Tik’ta gave a triumphant grin as she worked on the controls of the other ship. “Got it. They’re trying to get the engines back, though—get on board and stop them before they fly us back into the comet.”

  “Radio if you need anything.” Zinqued took off and made for the small bay on the bottom of the ship.

  It was an ingenious little design. An airtight compartment at the corner of the docking bay held a second airtight compartment that would slide down out of the belly of the ship, leaving a vacuum behind it. The air from the inner compartment was vented into the first, the inner compartment resealed, then opened into space. No precious air was lost, and the ship was safe from any breach.

  In the silence, the crew fired a cable down to the hull of the captured ship, attached themselves to it, and pushed off gently to slide along and cluster at the end.

  There was a similar compartment in this ship, and Chofal took the lead on opening it. She had to hotwire one of the panels in the end, and even then, it took two of the Brakalons to haul it open. Having braced themselves against the hull, they floated up.

  This was why they strapped themselves to the cable. It was all too easy to lose your footing at a time like this and wind up too close to the engines. Zinqued shuddered.

  He had heard stories he didn’t particularly want to remember, but each one was seared into his brain.

  They heard scuffling outside the compartment as they locked themselves into it and depressurized. They had to secure themselves with clamps because once they passed the hull, the internal grav systems kicked in. Nevertheless, they got the floor closed and their weapons raised.

  “Tik’ta, broadcast the message.”

  “Yes, sir.” She allowed it through on their suits’ channel as well:

  “This is the captain of the Julentai. We require two components of your ship. Your crew will not be hurt if they do not interfere. Your ship will not be vented, nor will it be rendered inoperable.”

  There was shouting. Zinqued pressed the button to open the door, and he and the four Brakalons rushed out and took cover, scanning the area with their weapons.

  The crew in the landing bay had decided to take his advice. They had their weapons on the floor and their hands up. One of the Brakalons collected their weapons and secured their hands behind their heads, and the other four guided Chofal toward the engineering bay. The booster would be there.

  The first attack came when they’d almost reached the engine room. A crazed Leath jumped out from one of the side corridors, brandishing a gun and screaming. He opened fire as one of the Brakalons tackled Chofal to the ground to shield her. The rest of them fired and their attacker crumpled to the ground.

  The captain waited for them in the engine room, much more sensibly pointing his gun toward the reactor itself.

  Everyone stopped. If the reactor were open, the captain would be dying quickly. If it were closed, which it appeared to be, it was unlikely that a bullet could pierce the casing. Unlikely…

  But not impossible.

  “I won’t let you leave us out here to drift!” The captain’s voice was wild.

  “You won’t be left to drift,” Zinqued said as soothingly as he could. He didn’t have any particular desire to die from radiation poisoning. “Our engineer needs your zero-point booster and your fruit bowl.”

  He pointed to the auxiliary photonic dish to make it clear what he meant. Though it was a precisely made and highly technical piece of equipment, it resembled a dish for fruit. It could be a bowl for anything, of course, but somehow the name had stuck.

  Paun had once told Zinqued that you could tell a good engineer by which technical terms they didn’t use. “And don’t trust any ‘engineer’ who calls that an auxiliary photonic dish,” he finished.

  That litmus test had served Zinqued well as he searched for a backup engineer for Chofal.

  The captain narrowed his eyes at them, and Dretkalor raised his rifle. His finger was conspicuously off the trigger.

  “You shoot our mechanic,” he said, “or that reactor, I shoot you. You don’t shoot anything, I don’t shoot you. You got that?”

  The captain hesitated, but at last he nodded, and Zinqued waved Chofal into the engine room.

  She worked cheerfully, chattering about the specifications of the ship—not so much to them as to herself. Not that they all understood much anyway. She didn’t seem to need answers, so the rest of them ignored her and kept their guns up, listening closely for anyone trying to sneak up on them.

  Defeated, the captain went to sit in the corner. He still had his gun, but he wasn’t pointing it at the reactor anymore.

  “Got it,” Chofal said finally.

  “Let’s move,” Zinqued ordered.

  They left quickly, Dretkalor’s gun still trained on the captain. The parts they had stolen were worth thousands, but true to their word—the ship would fly just fine.

  They got back through the halls with no surprises and collected the guard they had left behind in the landing bay. One crew member was laid out with a split lip. No one mentioned anything about it as they crowded into the airlock chamber again, though the guard took one of the guns that had been surrendered, a particularly nice sniper rifle.

  Zinqued didn’t mention anything about that. Their business was stealing, after all, and a crew that could get little things they liked was a crew that was less likely to mutiny.

  Their return to the Julentai was uneventful, and Tik’ta informed them the engines on their captive ship would not fire properly for two hours after they left, giving them plenty of time to escape.

  “They aren’t associated with any particular government,” she said. “If they had powerful friends, I think they would have made that clear. They’re probably gori.”

  “What are gori?” Dretkalor asked, with a frown.

  “So there’s something you don’t know?” Tik’ta arched a brow. At Zinqued’s look, however, she didn’t press it further and just sighed. “It’s a Torcellan word. They’re…high-class couriers, I guess you could say. Merchants will use them as go-betweens and entrust them with…well, messages, usually.”

  “They weren’t very keen to fight.” Dretkalor scoffed.

  “They probably didn’t have a message on board. And those stealth systems take some serious money to run. If they’re being paid, they’re probably running entirely dark.” She shrugged. “Maybe they worked for the Yennai Corporation, back when money was still flowing.”r />
  “There’s going to be a lot to harvest when they finally fall apart.” Zinqued smiled at the thought.

  “I wouldn’t count them out,” Tik’ta warned him.

  “She’s right,” Dretkalor agreed. “Everyone who’s met Mr. Yennai says he never gives up. Never.”

  Tik’ta looked pleased that Dretkalor had agreed with her. “See?” she asked Zinqued.

  Zinqued shook his head. “What does he have left to fight for? His children are dead, he’ll have no one to take over after him.”

  “Someone like him only ever wants one thing.” Tik’ta looked at him meaningfully. “More.”

  She turned back to her work and left Zinqued to go back to the engine room, frowning. Tik’ta had been spouting a platitude, nothing more.

  So why had he felt a chill when he heard those words?

  23

  “It’s known to run supplies into this sector,” argued one of the officers. “And it would make a good warning shot against the humans.”

  Everyone glanced over to where Koel sat enigmatically in his throne-like chair.

  Lotar knew just what Koel was doing. He had, most likely, already picked what he thought was the best position. However, to keep his officers from agreeing with him out of habit and to see which of them would come up with the solution he liked best—not to mention, to see if any of them would come up with a better solution—he kept his opinions on the matter to himself.

  It was a smart thing for him to do. Unfortunately, just because Lotar knew what he was doing and why didn’t make it any less scary.

  And he knew that Koel was waiting for him to say something. It had become clear over the past few days that Koel viewed him as a protege…or potential protege.

  Lotar just had to prove himself.

  The problem was that he was sure he knew what Koel wanted to hear, and he was terrified to say it. It was an effective tactic, but it was a cruel one, and he was afraid that Koel would actually take the suggestion if Lotar made it.

  Then Lotar would feel guilty. The thought of the operation made him want to cry.

  He faced the bleak possibility of saying nothing. It would take little for Koel to grow tired of him and shuffle him off to some minor ship. Lotar was sure he could deal with the whispers and the stares: poor bastard, he disappointed Mr. Yennai. At least he’s still alive, anyway. But the thought of disappointing Koel distressed him. There was something about the Torcellan, something almost hypnotic. You looked into his eyes, and you wanted to do anything, say anything, to please him.

  Which meant that Lotar wanted more than anything to give the suggestion that was on the tip of his tongue.

  “We don’t have good enough human targets yet,” the admiral said. “We continue to apply pressure to the Jotun. Once they’re forced by their government to pull back, we have one less enemy. We can decide what to do about the humans at our leisure rather than striking out randomly.”

  It was a much better suggestion than attacking the human cargo ships. Lotar found himself nodding.

  And yet…

  He bit his lip. He didn’t want to say this. He could just picture what would to happen if he did.

  “Mr. Venn.” Koel did not raise his voice, but everyone swiveled to Lotar. “Did you have a suggestion to make?”

  Lotar froze. The other officers looked at him with poorly-concealed distaste.

  He could do this. He just had to survive Koel’s disappointment.

  “I like the admiral’s suggestion,” Lotar said honestly. “Forcing the Jotuns to break their alliance with the human means that we can divide their forces more equally.”

  The admiral gave a confident smile. Even Koel’s new protege liked his plan.

  Koel said nothing. He looked at Lotar, and he waited.

  “Or we could strike the planet Devon.” The words were dragged out of Lotar’s chest. He couldn’t hold them back.

  Koel smiled thinly in triumph.

  “Devon?” the admiral repeated. “Where is that?”

  “It’s not in this sector, sir.” Lotar felt himself moving toward the table as if in a dream. He had said it. He had to follow through now. He brought up the reports he had written after combing through the Shinigami’s data banks. “It used to be known as Devon and is now called High Tortuga by the humans. They’ve made several very clumsy attempts to hide it.”

  The admiral blinked.

  “What we’ve seen of their warning systems is impressive,” Lotar admitted. “It’s all second-hand, but most of the merchants who are usually able to get onto planets to supply black markets, cannot this time.”

  He snuck a glance. Koel’s eyebrows had gone up at that. Lotar knew that Koel held the deepest respect for black markets, believing them to be a nearly infallible mechanism for breaking down any restrictions on trade.

  Usually, he was right. In this case, the humans had managed to keep a lock-down on the planet.

  “The humans were responsible for the destruction of some Yennai-affiliated groups on Devon,” Lotar continued. “They were working as mercenaries on the less populous continent. Apparently, the humans took exception to that. The details aren’t entirely clear.”

  “Someone must know them,” Koel interjected.

  Everyone else exchanged glances. He’d started to get impatient, and they were eager to see Lotar taken down a notch or two. No one liked the way they had squabbled without Koel saying a word, only for Lotar to speak up late and get all the credit.

  I wish any of you were in my place, Lotar wanted to say. But it wasn’t really true—he’d be jealous if anyone else were to take Koel’s attention and win his respect.

  “Another mercenary syndicate did know what happened,” Lotar explained. “At least, as far as I can tell, they did. They appear to have sent reinforcements.”

  “Appear to have sent? Did you contact them?”

  Lotar swallowed. “They’re all dead. Sir,” he added.

  Koel thought that over, his eyes shifted to the darkness outside the windows. He seemed calm.

  Then Koel said, not even raising his voice, “So the humans destroyed our affiliates. They sought out any of their contacts and destroyed those as well. Then they tracked those contacts to our headquarters and killed both of my children.”

  The stateroom was entirely silent. No one, not even Lotar, spoke. Shoulders were hunched. Everyone tried desperately to disappear.

  Koel stood and swept down the stairs. He looked at the reports projected on the table, his gaze ravenous.

  “Uleq was right,” he said, almost to himself. “I did not listen when he told me how dangerous they were. I thought we could infiltrate them when the time came.” He looked up at Lotar. “You understand?”

  Everyone else now looked grateful that they were not on the spot, and Lotar struggled to figure out what Koel meant.

  “We must destroy them?”

  “Yes,” Koel said. “But more than that, Lotar, we must admit our mistakes. The game of power is unforgiving. There is little room for errors, and no room to cling to them. I disregarded Uleq’s warnings. It cost me both my children.” His fingers tightened on the edge of the table. “I will not make the same mistake twice. When we go to Devon, we will go in force, and we will make the planet a barren husk. Before the fires have even died, we will find every human colony there is and destroy it. I wanted to make an example for the humans.” Now his eyes swept the room. “I see that is too dangerous. We will kill them, every one of them.”

  He left the table without another glance, headed for the door, and from somewhere, the admiral drummed up the courage to call after him.

  “Sir, what do we do about the Jotun fleet for now?”

  Koel paused. The admiral shook.

  Koel did not even look back. “Let them discover on their own that we will be at Devon. Make them think it is a small detachment of our fleet. We will crush them both at once.”

  “Got it!” Chofal grinned as the device powered up. “And we’re g
ood to go. Look at this beauty.” She jerked her head at Dretkalor. “Come on, teach it what it needs to know.”

  “It’s not a pet.” But the Brakalon obliged, coming to sit in front of the device. He moved carefully to enter the various codes.

  “Do you think it’ll work?” Chofal asked anxiously.

  “Better hope so.” Dretkalor grinned. “Zinqued paid out the ass for them. Plus,” he added thoughtfully, “we’ll be a cloud of dust if they don’t.”

  Chofal chewed her lip. But the Shinigami swam before her eyes, perfect and gleaming. Those engines, that electrical grid…

  She had to get her hands on it.

  “Come on,” she said to Dretkalor. “Let’s go tell Zinqued we’re done. He and Tik’ta were looking for the Yennai fleet. We can finally set a course to meet up with them.”

  It’s worth noting, Shinigami said acidly, that we don’t even know what other ships are around us. Even I didn’t know that destroyer was there. And we don’t know how this one jumps around without gates.

  I’m willing to bet that’s actually a set of decoy signals, Barnabas said. He’d been thinking a lot about this. I mean, we know they do this differently than we do. Differently even than the Jotun do. So I’m thinking perhaps in their systems, you employ a sudden cloaking technique, visual-based, and you just accelerate damned fast so that no one has a chance to crack the scanner cloaking before they realize where you’ve gone.

  That’s a damned lot of effort to go to for a trick.

  Hardly a trick. If you can convince people you’re gone, they generally stop shooting.

  What I’m getting from this is, never stop shooting.

  That’s the one. Barnabas snapped his helmet into place. Are we in place yet?

  Close. For the better part of two hours, Shinigami had approached the Avaris, sliding slowly and inexorably through the fleet.

  In their last engagements, and from the hacking she had experienced at their hands, she had theorized that the ships networked with one another to build a much more accurate grid of any known enemies. It was the smart way to do things, and Koel had been consistently and infuriatingly intelligent about all of this.