Vigilante Series 2: Nebula Vigilante (10 page)

Eliana
nodded appreciation for Sarah’s crowd control effort. Matt too nodded appreciation then focused on the attentive crowd.

“Before I ended up in a lifepod I would have agreed with Rebecca. Not now. Not after seven years of Vigilante work in partnership with this starship.”
Matt paused, then waved at the entire room. “The bottom line you need to know is that I do not fully control this starship. The alien AI named BattleMind does. Since our battle in Sigma Puppis I have negotiated with BattleMind for the freedom of action of myself, Eliana and our Mata Hari. She may be an AI, but she is nice people. However, in order to exist on this starship, we are all pledged to help BattleMind in its effort to evaluate the military abilities of the Anarchate. Hence, this recent battle, two in the past, and more to come in the future.” Everyone had quieted at that news, and several family groups hugged their children close. “Which is why we, Eliana and I, with Leader Sarah’s help and input from all of you, need to figure out how to get you all off of this starship. This is
my
battle, not yours.”

Leader Sarah moved closer to Matt. “Vigilante, what are the choices available to us, if you do not fully control this starship?”

Matt turned to Sarah. “You and your group can either be dropped off at a human colony world or at an Anarchate Trade world,
or
, during our future voyages to Anarchate locations, we can locate an Earth-like planet for you to colonize on your own,” Matt said, looking past Sarah to the hundred fifty people who surrounded them. “ With the help of Gatekeeper and a Tachyon Pylon that we would build for you, this group is numerous enough and of balanced genders so you could create your own colony. If you want.”

George the
black-bearded man had paid close attention to Matt’s information. Now he titled his head and looked skeptical. “But you have told us where you two come from, where this T’Chak starship comes from, and your intent to have more battles with the Anarchate. Wouldn’t letting us go with this information be dangerous to you?”

Matt, who stood a half meter taller than the man, smiled and shook his head. “The Anarchate already knows what you just stated. They know my background from the work I did for the Greek and
Derindl people of planet Halcyon. It’s part of the public record. And we have left locator beacons with our starship name at the places where we destroyed Anarchate battleglobes. That tells them we are hunting them.” He paused, looking beyond to the people crowding the commissary. “Part of the reason I have joined with Mata Hari and BattleMind in their T’Chak quest is because treating people as property, as objects, as something to be
used
by Conglomerates and Anarchate officials, is
wrong!
Most people I have met, human and alien both, prefer to make their own choices about work, family, careers and living modes.” Several dozen listeners nodded agreement, including George the Irishman, from what Eliana could see of the crowd. “I’m no politician. Would never work for one if asked.” Several people chuckled.

“But to change the way things are, so that different star systems can work together for common defense, for natural disaster relief and for choices made by a planet’s people versus those imposed by the Ana
rchate, well that is worthwhile,” Matt said. “And think! Everything will not collapse if the Anarchate is beaten down. Trade goes on. Planetary affairs go on as they do now. You still pay taxes, but they stay local. And you will no longer be
property
owned by a military force or an interstellar corporation. That’s my story. Now, we need to figure out what
your
story will be. Leader Sarah, we reach heliopause in three hours. We are heading for the Keyhole Nebula in the Carina-Sagittarius Arm, a place that lies 7,500 light years from here. It will be a journey of weeks. And I cannot release anyone before we finish our work at the Keyhole, since we survive by striking at places not known in advance to the Anarchate. So, take your time in discussing your group’s future. Eliana and I and Mata Hari will attend and converse when invited. Now, I need to head back to the Bridge.” Matt turned to leave.

“Mr. Matt!” called a teenage boy who was showing his first whiskers. He stood with a family group of mother, father and two younger girls. “What are these T’Chak aliens like? And why do you give in to this  . . . BattleMind AI?”

Eliana sighed. These people were as bewildered as she had been after the Hagonar Station battle, when she discovered that someone wanted her dead. She looked to Matt, wondering what his choice might be.

Matt stopped his walk toward the slidedoor and turned to the teenager. “Your name?”

“William,” the black-skinned boy with tight-curled hair said. “William Dafoe. This here’s my family,” he said as his mother and father moved to stand behind their son.

Matt nodded to the parents, then focused on the youth. “William, well, I work with BattleMind because it serves my purpose of ending
bondServant slavery in the Milky Way. And to end cloneslavery. I don’t want you, your sisters or your parents to live in bond servitude for the rest of your lives. Or be subject to genome harvester raids.” Matt tilted his head, his look determined. “As for what the T’Chak look like, well, you will see that now. Mata Hari, please project a holo-image of BattleMind from earlier on the Bridge. Try his look when he resumed attacking the two battleglobes. But do
not
ask him to appear here in live mode!”

Mata Hari materialized in a lifesize holosphere before the human crowd, gave a serious-looking nod to Leader Sarah, then gestured toward the side wall and an area clear of people. “This is the . . . shape chosen by BattleMind. It reflects a life-size T’Chak alien. This is who controls me, my friends, all of us!”

A twelve-foot tall, yellow and purple scaled dragon with gleaming red eyes, jagged white teeth and enormous wings took three dee shape in a new holosphere. It moved as Eliana realized Mata Hari was showing a mobile image from vidrecords of the Bridge battle. The red eyes appeared to look down upon the gathered humans, its long tail swishing over the holo floor, the black claw fingers on each forearm opened and partly closed as if it sought to grasp and tear apart . . . someone.

Screams sounded. Children cried out. Many women said “Ohhhh!” in a high-pitched wail, and most of the men took one or two steps back from the T’Chak dragon image, even though it was not close by. The sound of retching said a few people were unable to view a truly
different alien. Even though this group considered itself cosmopolitan and was used to dealing with slithering, rambling, screeching and odorous aliens of all shapes, the image of BattleMind the T’Chak shook them all.

Eliana sighed. It had shaken her the first time she had seen it on the Bridge. She thought she was . . . used to it now. But its life-size appearance in a venue she thought of as human made the hair on her neck rise up. She reached out and took hold of Matt’s cool hand.
“That’s enough for now, Matthew.”

“Until later, Leader Sarah, George
O’Hussey, William Dafoe and everyone else. I hope you can find a way to sleep.”

Eliana, her neck feeling cold, followed Matt and Mata Hari out the slidedoor and into the Spine hallway, wondering whether the refugees would go quiet, seek a confrontation, or ask to be let off at the nearest planet with breathable atmosphere. She knew that she, if she had first seen this image of a T’Chak before she had left to seek a Vigilante, had been presented with the living and moving image of a T’Chak, she too would have emptied her stomach.

Sarah Vasiliades watched as Eliana, Matt and the feminine AI Mata Hari exited the room. The slidedoor closed perfectly behind them, just like every other perfect component of this strange starship. Gravplates abounded. Walls were optical matter, something unknown to her even as a high-level accountant for Owners used to the best of luxury. The weapons she had seen deployed in the four minute battle vidcast that everyone from Omega had seen here or in their roomsuite were powerful and a few exceeded anything she had heard of. And this dragon-like T’Chak alien had shaken her to her boots, even though she had dealt with ammonia-breathing mobile clams from Arcturus, chlorine-breathers from Tesla and carnivorous dinosaur-like aliens from Bellimana. This T’Chak AI was dangerous. Soooo dangerous . . .

“Leader, that man is crazy,” muttered George, stroking his long black beard with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

Sarah blinked. George had been the work chief for the Repairs Department. He was used to working in vacuum. He’d used lasers to carve support holes for new structures. Had seen alien residues most bondServants did not know existed, and was known as someone never overawed by the personal appearance of an Owner. Crazy to him was really crazy.

“How so, George?” She noticed many of the senior managers who had been haranguing her
, when the Vigilante entered, were still gathered nearby as other groups and some families headed for a meal at the Food Alcove. The AI Gatekeeper followed those moving away, its lights twinkling in a pattern that the small children found irresistible.

“Well, either he is crazy, or he is very dangerous if he thinks what he plans to do is possible,” George muttered.
“I hate being a bondServant but it’s either that, or starve. Though I like this idea of star systems being free from Anarchate control.”

“I agree
about the dangerous part,” said Rebecca briskly, looking over her shoulder at her husband Rafael and their four kids. “But we are refugees. We have no control of our conditions on board this vessel. Not with that . . . that dragon in charge! So, what do we do now?”

“A good question,” said Suzanne Magnusdottor, who’d worked as the dome’s IT manager and had taught Sarah how to do needlepoint embroidery.
“And how do we adjust to this starship that is so very different than a standard transport?”

Sarah herself was still adjusting to the disappearance of a world she had lived in for
twenty-five years, ever since graduating from the Anarchate’s regional Commerce School and entering the service of the Melikark Conglomerate, which had long owned Omega casino and the people who worked there. It was a job, as George had said. But not a job good for a marriage or for children. Others thought otherwise. She had adjusted on first arrival and had continued to adjust over the years. Sarah would adjust to this new, novel situation. Who knows? Maybe a human colony planet or the founding of a new colony would afford her a chance to find a good man, perhaps even to have children now that Anarchate meds allowed the permanent deferral of menopause. She smiled at her fellow managers.

“We adjust, of course,” she said. “This is no different from the change we had when the Owners opted for the lakes and woodland scenery versus the old high-tech look. And we keep a close eye on the few idiots, like that James Manitoot Suzuki who yelled at the Vigilante during Matthew’s
background talk. Agreed?”

George, Rebecca, Suzanne, Knut and the rest of them nodded agreement, though she could read deep
concern in the eyes of all. She shared that concern.

“I will maintain a friendly and helpful relationship with this Matthew Dragoneaux and his lifepartner Eliana. They
created a refuge for
all
of us, rather than have us split up and subject to whatever revenge a local Anarchate commander or Conglomerate executive felt should befall people from the same species as this Vigilante.” She paused, feeling the pangs of hunger. “So we do as suggested. You managers, form groups to discuss the options of human world, Anarchate world or founding a new colony. At least we have options amidst all this destruction,” she muttered.

Knut, a blond-haired graphics designer who had created many of the
exterior wall paintings that adorned . . . had adorned the casino walls, sighed loudly. “I am tired of destruction, Sarah. I think we need to watch our people carefully for either severe depression, or severe anger. I suspect doing anything harmful to these people or this starship would result in immediate death. Or stasis if one was lucky.”

Sarah had thought the same ever since she saw the destruction of the casino complex with neutron antimatter beams. It was a level of violence she had never experienced in her life. And she fervently hoped to avoid future exposures. While she had never liked being a debt-ridden
bondServant to the Owners and Melikark Conglomerate, it was the way of the galaxy. Until the Vigilante had spoken. Now, like George, she wondered if that was the way things had to be. She worried that their simple choices might become much more complex as time passed.

“I’m hungry. Anyone up to sharing a dish of jambalay
a with shrimp? This Food Alcove seems able to materialize any non-living dish,” she said.

“Yeah!” called Rebecca.

“My gut can use some food,” rumbled George, turning to talk with Suzanne. A single man, George had been paying more attention to Suzanne in the last few months. They did seem to enjoy each other’s company. Perhaps normal stuff like dating and smiling and enjoying Earth’s classic Rock and Roll music was still possible.

Together again with fellow managers she knew like old friends, Sarah headed toward the spicy smells already wafting from the five meter long Food Alcove. Food was so much simpler than
interstellar politics.