Vigilante Series 2: Nebula Vigilante (5 page)

Eliana, dressed in a
yellow combat suit adorned with the Running Wolf motif of his own suit, had pushed back her helmet now that they were in the decent oxy-nitro air of the Arrival Hall. She looked at the bustle of a hundred or more sapients either arriving or departing to their orbital transport. Then she hugged his arm to her side. Matt, wearing Suit with his helmet faceplate clear to anyone’s view, glanced at her.

“Yes?”

“You are . . .  this Howard person. But my real name was given by Mata Hari to the Port AI. Why Matt? Won’t someone here have heard about me and you and Halcyon?”

He guided them toward the tall hallway that led to the casino dome, noticing just two Anarchate Guardians dressed in
green military uniforms who sat behind a distant computable, partly in the shadows, doing their best not to disturb the rich aliens who expected perfect security with no sign of disturbance, dirt, beggars or loud military types who did not know the aliens were their natural betters. At everything. The casino Owners clearly did not want to give the impression that anything could “go wrong” on Omega, so they kept the Anarchate security presence restricted to the Arrival Hall and to their pylon office where incoming and outgoing tachyon messages could be monitored for security lapses and emergencies.

“You have not done covert work before, Eliana, so I thought it best for you to use your real name. While Sigma Puppis and Zeta Serpentis are in the same part of Orion Arm, the destruction of a Nova-class
battleglobe by an unknown starship is not something the Anarchate is likely to share with anyone outside of Combat Command. The Intelligence AI knew of us, of course. But elsewhere on the galactic tachnet that links worlds and galactic arms via Tachyon Pylons, the news that refers to Halcyon is likely to be commercial, how the Halicene Conglomerate screwed up a contract and was ordered by the Anarchate to depart Sigma Puppis system.” He considered further her question as they joined three dozen aliens of various legs, tentacles, morphoforms and loudness as they all headed for the brightly illuminated entrance to the casino dome. “So unless you chat up a Halicene merchant, it is unlikely anyone will even know you come from Sigma Puppis, let alone had a hand in pissing off Commander Chai, who became shipwrecked on Autarch Dreedle’s home world. Okay?”

Eliana smiled, nodded, and her walk became more confident, the movement suggestive of the very smart molecular geneticist that she was.
Good!

Their entry into the open space of the casino dome was anticlimactic. A few clouds floated high overhead, indicative of the ambient moisture level in the giant dome and the desire of its
Owners to imitate a natural habitat. Nearby ponds, fountains and winding garden pathways broke up the space between the blocks, domes and pyramid shapes of multiple gambling sites, restaurants, pleasure halls, stores with high value trinkets for sale to the super-rich of this half of home galaxy, and the blue uniforms of people who served as bondGuides for any question asked by any visitor. The concept of Servant class was long established in the Anarchate and so, despite the immense datafiles of suit-worn minicomps, many visiting aliens preferred an organic source to answer their questions about the casino. Of course there were holo maps near the main entrance and at major intersections, but the casino Owners had long ago aimed to create a luxury zone where living people of all species served as Servants at the beck and call of any visitor. With all visitors being verified as having billion Standard or better resources, the casino could afford to hire bondServants who both knew their place, and who hoped for giant tips if they . . . served properly the appetites of the alien super-rich. The place had disgusted Matt when he arrived as a Protector for a methane-breathing gaggle of tentacles. Now, having seen life in the Anarchate from the Flesh Markets of Alkalurops to this resort where everything could be bought, he was again reminded of the vengeance he sought by coming to Zeta Serpentis.

“Mata Hari,” he called over Suit’s tachlink, knowing that Eliana would also hear. “Have your
Nanoshell remotes infiltrated all parts of the casino dome and the pylon box of the Anarchate Guardians?”

“Yes, Matthew,” his AI partner said
from orbit. “It was a simple matter to camouflage a Defense sled as an automated optoelectronics package for use by the dome’s Repair facility. Your purpose?”

Matt pulled lightly on Eliana’s arm so that they walked down a lightly occupied garden pathway, with a high shrub wall on the left and a small pond with alien dragonflies flitting over the blue waters as some kind of alien fish stealthily hunted the flies when they got too close to the water’s surface. When a fish tongue shot up to ensnare a
dragonfly, he activated Suit’s faceplate holo to orient himself to the building placements, purposes and location of one site that he blinked into red dot importance. With a twig of his alpha brain rhythms to alert Suit to head that way, Matt cleared the holo so he could see the path ahead, but activated the left and right panels of faceplate to show energy emissions and spy beams on the left, while weapons blisters and mobile personal arms showed on the right. Just because the Owners desired a peaceful appearance did not mean every super-rich alien came here with peaceful intentions. He spoke to both his partners.

“Eliana, be ready to lower your suit helmet when I give the word,” he said, wondering how long it would take the
casino’s crowd control gas to fill the vast dome—something he would not allow. “Mata Hari, what is the exact count of organic lifeforms in and near the dome, the number of bondServants in employment, the number of species represented by all lifeforms, any lifeform that is not oxy-nitro based, the number of starships in orbit, and how many serious combat suits like mine are present anywhere on Omega?”

“Moment,” she said. “
There are 6,114 organic sapients on Omega, all of them located within three kilometers of your location. Of that number, 1,048 are bondServants belonging to fourteen different species. The rest are visitors.” She paused. “Human components of the total working lifeforms are 152 bondServants, while two casino Owners and two super-rich humans are also present. Total species on Omega are 31, with four of them being methane or chlorine breathers.” A second briefer pause happened. “There are 23 starships in orbit, most of them recent arrivals, from yachts to supply freighters. As for combat suits that could pose a threat, there are two Guardian combat types based in the Guardian box next to the Tachyon Pylon. Total enforcement personnel among the 6,114 sapients are 44, counting the Guardians in suits, at the Arrival Hall and in the barracks that you are heading for.”

“Matt, are we going into battle?” Eliana asked, a tone of concern in her voice.

“Not if I can help it,” he said. “But I had us arrive in person, versus by Remote, for several reasons. One, for you to see this place that I plan to destroy in four hours.” She gasped. “Second, to locate the Guardians barracks and freeze its doors so no Guardian can exit when Mata Hari arrives overhead to recover us. And third . . . I wanted to physically
see
the place and Owners who once treated my dead lover Helen as if she were simply property, bond property that would jump here and serve there upon their orders.” He grimaced inside Suit’s helmet, noticing and storing the locations of the few ultrasonic crowd control blisters and the numerous gas emitters for putting the super-rich into a quiet sleep while some emergency was resolved. He turned to face Eliana, his faceplate clear, even as a cyborg part of him noted they had arrived just meters from the main entrance to the Guardian barracks.

“My dearest, destruction of this place is needed as a lesson to the Anarchate. It is a plan I disc
ussed with Mata Hari and BattleMind while you were doing laser gun practice in the armory hall. This is only Stage One of a bigger deal that will involve—”

“Matthew Dragoneaux? Is it really you in all that fanciful combat armor? Well, perhaps we will be paid—
”

“Shut up,” Matt told the bear-like Meligun alien
, one of the casino Owners who had quoted the impossible price for Helen’s contract release. He finished turning away from Eliana to face the black-furred alien with two pink eyes, large elf-like ears, two legs and four arms. Evolved from a sextupedal ancestor, the Meligun, like humanity’s tree-living ancestors, have developed into an upright, walking version of a bear that had arms at the waist and shoulder levels, all the better with which to crumple opponents, he thought. This alien was the one who gave him and Helen the toothy smile when it said two million platinum Standards was her buyout price. Beside him, Eliana stepped back and turned round to cover his back. Redundant given Suit’s 360 All Surround perception zone, but thoughtful and in keeping with the basic covert training he had given her. But now that he had been recognized, things must move a bit faster.

In
Matt’s mind he tachlink signaled Mata Hari to take out the Tachyon Pylon with a few carbon dioxide lasers. Best to save the neutron antimatter pontoons for later. He went to gestalt focus now, simultaneously taking in inputs from a half dozen EMF frequencies, the comlink chatter of the Port bondGuides, the casino dome supercomputer, the Guardian barracks, and the Port AI. He also looked down at the stumpy Meligun.

“
Owner Zik tho-mesh, Helen Sayinga Trinh is dead, thanks to you.”

The Meligun bear looked surprised. “Me? She ran off with you. If she is dead, that is your fault, you bipedal silliness that thinks it can bypass the Rules of the Anarchate!”

Matt smiled, showing his teeth. The Meligun took a step back. “Owner who thinks himself superior to all, I do not bypass the Anarchate Rules, I destroy them!” Behind Matt and outside the casino dome, Dreadnought
Mata Hari
arrived to float 1,000 meters above them all, with three hull blisters emitting orange laser beams that swiftly melted the pylon but left the Guardian box untouched. For now. The Meligun’s pink eyes widened as it saw the sudden destruction and magical appearance of
Mata Hari
.

“But, but—”

“As you will hear shortly over the dome’s public address comlink emitters, you have exactly four hours to evacuate all 6,114 lifeforms presently in the dome and move them up to the 23 orbiting starships so people, including your arrogant super-rich patrons, can live another day on another world.” Matt’s smile widened so dimples showed. “For in four hours, this dome, the Arrival Hall and every organic-built installation on Omega will be gone. Vaporized. And if any Guardian is stupid enough to run to the hills in a vacsuit, it should seek radiation shelter below ground, far from here. Understood?”

The Meligun bear’s expression turned angry and an alien-sounding snarl touched Matt’s external Ears. “
How dare you and your ship threaten this place! We have been in business for four millennia, and if a simple two-legged primate from an obscure part of Orion Arm thinks it can—”

The alien’s voice stopped in a gurgle as Matt’s gauntlet glove tightened around its throat. “I can do whatever needs to be done, in order to teach you, the other
fourteen Owners and the Anarchate itself that owning people is
wrong
. BondServant status is wrong. And frankly, I don’t give a damn for your contracts!” The alien’s pink eyes widened, either from hearing heresy or from need of air. “If you survive the next four hours, ask your commercial allies about what
really
caused Halicene Conglomerate’s departure from Sigma Puppis B star system.”

“Matt, there are three Guardian uniforms heading this way from the barracks, each with a laser handgun. Holstered for now,”
Eliana said, supplementing the gestalt knowledge Matt had received seconds earlier.

“Thank you
. And lower your helmet, my dear.” He lifted the Meligun bear off its clawed feet, then tossed it into the pond and its fish. Maybe it would lose a few toenails to the polychrome predator fish before it clambered out. He turned to face the oncoming green-suited Guardians of the Spelidon rat species, whose long black whiskers now flared at the sight of Matt tossing a casino Owner into the pond. He PET thought-imaged an order to Suit. It responded.

His waist level ultrasonic viber flashed high-frequency blasts at the three Guardians, high enough to knock them out but short enough
not to kill them. Beside him Eliana gasped, then pointed her Magnum laser gun at the fallen Guardians, using the proper two-handed and eye-level stance.

“Eliana, do keep them covered but be alert for any busy-body visitor who thinks he/she/it should intervene with its own laser gun.”
He paused. “Mata Hari, drop out two Offense sleds and send them into the casino dome. I will need their help.”

In buildings nearby a “Whoop, whoop” emergency alarm sounded, alerting other Guardians
to Matt’s disturbance and his location. He smiled. Well, time to elevate his appearance. “Eliana, up we go!”

In sync and on-line with a super-strong combat suit that feels like your own body is wonderful. It’s ecstatic. And so very dangerous to one’s opponents.

Matt’s Nullgrav boots shot him up to a ten meter elevation, high enough to see what he needed to see, leaving his left faceplate to ID the surrounding structures and people. He went to Colossus Mode with his boot tractor beams grabbing the walkway below. Both shoulder pulse-cannons whirred On Target. Suit’s internal fiber optic cable touched his neck connection. He moved to the lightspeed link with Suit that he called
ocean-time
. As before on the desert planet, he thought fast. Faster than humanly possible. Picoseconds blurred past. Nanoseconds zipped along. Milliseconds ticked by, slowly.