Date: 2019-06-07T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Adventure
Description: Casmir Dabrowski is finally heading back to his home world, determined to gain an audience with the queen and convince her to tell him the secret of his genes. But the terrorists who have been sending robot assassins after him are still there—and still want him dead. As soon as he lands, the trouble starts. His best friend is whisked off by Royal Intelligence, his new ally walks him into a trap, and he learns the queen isn’t in the city. But the king is. Casmir finds himself face to face with the man who has the power to wave a hand and have him and everyone he loves tortured, imprisoned, or e

Hero Code

Star Kingdom, Book 3

Lindsay Buroker

Copyright © 2019 by Lindsay Buroker

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Thank you for following along with my Star Kingdom series. I hope you’ve been having fun with my quirky heroes.

I grinned several times while writing Hero Code (I’m not sure if authors are supposed to admit to being entertained by their own work), so I hope that means you’ll get a few laughs too.

Before you start, please let me thank my beta readers Cindy Wilkinson, Rue Silver, and Sarah Engelke. They read this one and got their notes back to me in four days, because I was heading off to a conference, and I was afraid the manuscript would miss its hot date with my editor if I didn’t get it finished beforehand. That’s Shelley Holloway, by the way, and let me thank her while I’m here too. And also Jeff Brown for the fun cover art for this series.

Now, I’ll hush up and let you read!

Prologue

Fire burned in Yas’s veins as the treatment solution flowed into his arm. His breath caught, and his entire body clenched in pain.

Had he been a true cryonics revival patient, he would have still been dead, and he wouldn’t have had to live through this. He supposed feeling envious of a corpse was strange.

A groan came from the bed next to him, its occupant strapped down, the same as he was. Maybe it was to keep the patients from flying off their beds in the low gravity of the small medical facility. Maybe it was to keep them from tearing out the IVs and fleeing the premises.

“You all right, Jess?” Yas tried to remember when she’d last taken a dose of trylochanix, the drug she was unfortunately addicted to. If they survived this, he vowed to help her wean herself off it. Of course, he wouldn’t have minded some of the potent painkiller himself right now.

“The only things that don’t hurt,” she bit out around clenched teeth, “are my hand and foot and eyeballs.”

“Your cybernetic replacements? I suppose they don’t have cells that need regenerating. You’re fortunate. I’ve had nothing replaced, so I’m entirely human.”

At least the fire was fading as the solution in the IV bag dwindled. A pump whirred softly, helping drive it into the tubing—and into him—in the limited gravity.

“Yeah, fortunate.” Jess closed her eyes, but that didn’t hide the tears on her lashes.

From the pain, Yas presumed, but she might also be feeling the effects of some of the mental trauma of the last week—or of her entire life. Unlike the rest of Captain Tenebris Rache’s mercenaries, many of whom had paid for the various enhancements to their physiques, her cybernetic replacements had been done because of a terrorist attack that had left her body too damaged to repair by biological means.

More than a dozen of Rache’s burly mercenaries were strapped to beds on the other side of Jess, the long bay stretching back to a bank of computers. Robots with squat bodies and articulating arms rolled about on wheels, checking on the patients. In addition to the cryonics treatment, they had all been inoculated with the custom strain of radiation-eating bacteria that Yas’s team had taken from the microbiologist, Kim Sato. Yas had never imagined himself helping mercenaries steal bacteria, but in this case, it had saved their lives.

Yas hoped he never had to have anything to do with that ancient gate, or the pseudo radiation it oozed, again in his lifetime. He doubted he would be that lucky.

A soft clang came from the entrance of the bay. Rache walked toward them in his black combat armor, his helmet off and tucked under one arm, but his head hooded, his face masked. As always. He walked straight toward Jess and Yas, stopping between their beds.

“I’m ready to retire, Captain,” Jess announced. She blinked away the moisture on her lashes and managed a cocky smile for him.

“Because Dr. Peshlakai is such a poor conversationalist that you feel the need to flee the unit?” Rache asked, his voice so deadpan that Yas wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not.

“Because I was only prepared for getting shot at and blown up as a mercenary. This—” she twitched a finger toward the tube oozing its viscous liquid into a vein on her brown-skinned arm, “—is an imposition.”

“It is an unappealing shade of green-gray,” Rache remarked.

“The color isn’t the problem.”

“It feels like ants gnawing their way through your veins,” Yas told Rache. “Be glad you were immune.”

Yas had never figured out why Rache was immune, but he’d barely been coherent the last couple of days before Kim Sato had found a treatment. Even days later, on a secret hospital favored by pirates and smugglers and hidden away in an asteroid that had the ability to move to different parts of the system, he didn’t feel magnificent. But after this treatment, he hoped for a marked improvement. He had been lamenting that his life was a miserable mess after being framed for the assassination of President Bakas back on Tiamat Station, but he now believed it was still superior to the alternative.

“Yes,” Rache said quietly. “I had injuries of my own to deal with—” he touched the top of his head, “—but I’ll concede that your situation is worse.”

Since the hood covered it, Yas had no idea what he referred to. All he knew was that Rache had supposedly battled for and lost the gate and the cargo ship that his twin brother had somehow acquired. The man, Casmir Dabrowski, was an academic with no military experience. Yas couldn’t envision a scenario in which Rache wouldn’t have come out on top, and yet… Rache and his squad of enhanced fighters had been dumped into two escape pods and left stranded until the Fedallah picked them up.

Rache was lucky he had a loyal crew who had wanted to come pick him up, and hadn’t decided to leave the system, sell the ship, and disappear. Not that many people would risk Rache’s wrath for any amount of money. Yas ached to ask how Casmir had gotten the upper hand, but he didn’t want to irritate his captain, not when he was paying for the very expensive treatment Yas, Jess, and the others were undergoing.

“It’s my understanding that you had the chance to stay on the research ship,” Rache said, his mask turning toward Yas, “and receive treatment there, but you opted to retrieve some of the bacteria and come back to the Fedallah to help my men.”

Yas’s heartbeat doubled, and he could feel it pulsing in his ears. Rache’s tone was neutral. It sounded like he approved, but if he’d heard this story, it had to have been from Corporal Chains. Yas had been with Jess the whole time, and he would know if she’d spoken privately to Rache. Chains might have also mentioned that Yas had lingered, debating whether he could get away with staying behind, before finally climbing into the shuttle with the rest of the mercenaries. Did Rache know that? Would he resent that Yas had paused? That he’d been tempted?

“We all figured jail, if not a firing squad, would be waiting for us at the end of that treatment,” Yas said, refusing to pretend he’d been more of a hero than he had been.

Jess nodded firmly.

“And Chains was the one who broke down the door and sneaked up to the lab to take the bacteria,” Yas added.

“But you told him what to get and where to find it.”

Yas shrugged. “I knew you had other people who had been exposed, and I wasn’t positive the single dose we’d gotten would be enough.”

He was relieved that Rache didn’t sound irked, that he appreciated that Yas had chosen to return. He wondered if there was any chance that Rache would feel grateful enough to help him with his personal problem. As he’d told Jess, Yas wished he could get to the bottom of President Bakas’s assassination and figure out who had truly killed her, not only to clear his name but because she’d been a good woman and the station—the entire system—ought to know who had truly taken her down. Jess had suggested he try to hire Rache, just as she had once done, to investigate the mystery.

“Do you believe the bacteria will remain in the men’s bodies and give them some immunity if we have the opportunity to get near the gate again?” Rache asked.

Yas pulled his mind back to their medical problem. “I know the strand that Sato and her colleagues originally made to consume standard radiation is self-propagating in the human body. I do not know what changes she made to the bacteria to get it to work on this stuff. As I’m sure she told you, it’s not quite radiation, not like any kind we’re familiar with.”

Rache nodded.

“But I can look in a couple of weeks. I should be able to find signs of them in our blood if the bacteria is still there.”

“Good.”

“Are we going to try to get the gate again, Captain?” Jess asked. “And if so, how soon?”

“Are you eager to get a look at it?”

“Actually, I wanted to know how much time I had to fill out the paperwork for my retirement request.”

“Request denied. You’re too young to retire.”

“Damn.” Jess let her head flop dramatically back onto the pillow.

Yas wondered if Rache would truly keep her if she wished to leave.

“I do not know where it is currently,” Rache said, “but I will.”

“Dabrowski got away with it?” Yas asked, the question based solely on what he’d heard from the other men in the bay, those who had been there, battling robots in the cargo hold around giant pieces of the gate.

“He did,” Rache said coolly. “The cargo ship has advanced stealth technology. I’ve had the Fedallah trying to track it, but they haven’t found anything. Several days have passed now, so it’s less and less likely they’ll chance across it.”

“You think he’s taking it back to Odin to give to King Jager?” Jess asked.

“I do not know what he’s doing with it.” Rache shook his head. “That is a possibility, that he wants to take it to the king directly to curry favor. Had he merely wanted to make sure the Kingdom had it in its possession, he could have given it to the Fleet warships that were also fighting for it. The irate communications we intercepted suggest that he was supposed to give it to them, not disappear with it. From what intelligence I’ve gathered, he left the cargo ship—and presumably the gate—hidden somewhere and rejoined Kim Sato on the research ship. From there, he joined the same smugglers that he showed up at the refinery with. They appear to be heading toward Odin in their freighter. An odd choice, since there are people back there who want to kill him.”

“He must want to give it to the king personally,” Jess said.

“If that is true, I will do my best to stop him. Jager must not be allowed to have such technology, such power. With a wormhole gate to study and replicate, he could lead the expansion of humanity into the rest of the galaxy. Maybe even beyond.”

“So you’re going to hunt him down?” Jess asked. “Or maybe Sato knows what he plans. Is she still on the research ship? Maybe you could question her.”

Yas looked sharply at Jess, wishing she hadn’t brought up Kim. They owed her for finding a solution to this, for saving their lives. Yas had already inadvertently caused Rache to kidnap her once. He didn’t want her to be in Rache’s sights again.

Rache gripped his chin. “She does seem to be Dabrowski’s confidante.”

Yas searched for something to say that might deter Rache from this line of thinking. Surely, Kim wouldn’t be any easier to find than Casmir himself. They had probably left the research ship together. It wasn’t as if Kim was employed by the military or part of the crew of that ship. She’d been helping them out of necessity and that was it. If Rache wanted to interrogate someone, why not capture Casmir and ask him about the gate? He was the one who’d slunk off with it when nobody was looking.

“No.” Rache lowered his hand. “I owe her a favor, not an interrogation. I’ll find Dabrowski and question him.”

Jess shrugged easily. She had probably only meant to be helpful, not toss Kim into a black hole.

“You two get better soon,” Rache said. “I need you back on the Fedallah.”

“To go after Dabrowski and the gate?” Jess asked.

“Yes.”

Rache started to turn away. Yas glanced at Jess and cleared his throat.

“Uh, Captain,” he said, “I was wondering if, after you finish with this mission, I could convince you to help me find out who really killed President Bakas in my system.”

Rache faced him again.

“I’m sure I could scrounge up a little money to hire you, if that’s how it works. And I would have access to more if I was able to clear my name and get back into my accounts.”

Long silent seconds passed. Thanks to the mask, Rache’s face was impossible to read—to even see. Was he annoyed at Yas’s audacity? Or was he considering the request? Maybe wondering how much money Yas could get together?

“You would finish out your five years as my ship’s doctor?” Rache asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then we can speak of it after the gate mission. It is possible I can find some work in System Hydra that would justify the trip.”

“Thank you, sir.” Yas dared not ask for a firmer commitment. It was more than he had expected.

Rache nodded—the man never said you’re welcome—and walked out.

“He’s distant, aloof, and a little quirky,” Jess said, “but he’s more reasonable than most people think, and not bad at all if you stay on his good side.”

“So I see.”

Yas was glad he’d chosen to do just that. Though he felt a little bad for Casmir Dabrowski, who was clearly now on Rache’s bad side.

1

The six-and-a-half-foot-tall crusher loomed near the porthole in the lounge while Casmir sat on the deck, his tools scattered within reach, the arm of one of his newly acquired but battle-damaged robots in front of him. He had already fixed the fan on one of Viggo’s carbon-dioxide scrubbers, the sanitization spritzer in the bottom-level lavatory, and the leak in Bonita’s supposedly vacuum-sealed and space-rated soup cooker.

There wasn’t much left to fix, which was distressing, because his brain, left to its own devices, would likely find its way into a panic-attack-inducing state of worry. He was on the Stellar Dragon, a freighter possibly wanted by the Kingdom Guard, and heading back to Odin where terrorists wanted him dead. Further, he now was the only person who knew the location of the priceless ancient wormhole gate, a secret that King Jager might be willing to kill him for. Or at least torture him for.

And what was his plan? To trust Sir Asger to get him a meeting with the queen, who might possibly be sympathetic to his goals and help him find a way to share the gate, and all that might be learned from it, with scholars throughout the Twelve Systems. Never mind that she lived in the castle with Jager, and Casmir couldn’t imagine how he would be able to meet with her without running into the king.

“Your respiratory rate has increased twofold, Casmir Dabrowski,” Zee announced. “Are you experiencing a medical emergency?”

“Meaning am I going to have a seizure and collapse at your metal feet?” Casmir grimaced, since that was always a possibility. He felt safer now that he was back on his medication, but the fluctuations between partial gravity and no gravity that they experienced out here added an unstable variable to the already dubious equation of his health. He wasn’t confident that his seizure medication had been suitably tested on a large space-faring control group.

“I am not programmed to protect you from the failings of your own body,” Zee said. “What is the proper procedure? Would I get the captain?”

“Can we not call them failings, please?” Casmir set down his pliers and rose, waving the bipedal robot owner of the arm over to him. “Get Kim if I have a medical event in space.”

He probably should have programmed Zee with basic first-aid instructions. The original crusher programming had been more concerned with battling enemies than healing them.

“Understood. What is the preferred human term for genetic shortcomings?”

“Delightful character-building opportunities for growth.”

Zee didn’t have distinct human features, not like an android, but he did have a semblance of eyes, a mouth, and a nose, and they turned straight toward Casmir. “You programmed me with the ability to detect sarcasm, Casmir Dabrowski.”

“Yes, I know.” Casmir worked on fastening the robot’s arm while he spoke. “That may have been an error. It’s definitely more important to know what to do with a seizure patient.” Casmir had used the same template he and his team had used when building the first crushers for the Kingdom military. It had been deemed important for them to understand human emotions, including sarcasm. Looking back, Casmir should have known then that he wasn’t simply building robots to help defend his home world. The military had probably wanted the crushers to have that programming so they could more effectively interrogate people and figure out if answers given were believable. “Though in most cases, I shouldn’t need medical intervention. Just pull me out of the way if I’m in danger of being stepped on. If I’m not bleeding or foaming at the mouth, I’ll probably be fine.”

“Foaming?”

“Like a rabid dog.” Casmir doubted he had ever foamed, but he’d definitely drooled. Unfortunately. Sometimes, he was glad he was on the inside and couldn’t see what he looked like to others.

“My ability to detect sarcasm is not as keen as would be preferable,” Zee said.

“Nah, you’re doing fine.” Casmir reached over and patted the solid tar-colored arm, nothing about Zee’s current humanoid form hinting that he could liquefy, slide under locked doors, and reconfigure himself into whatever shape with equal mass that he wished.

“What are you doing, Casmir?” Kim asked, stepping into the ship’s lounge with Sir Asger coming in after her.

Their faces gleamed with sweat. She carried a towel and her wooden swords—bokken. Asger was empty-handed, his legendary pertundo perhaps deemed inappropriate for a friendly sparring match, though he hardly appeared unarmed, not with bare muscled arms the size of Casmir’s thighs. They looked like marble rather than flesh and blood.

Casmir wondered how Kim had fared. She was closer to his height—he refused, as always, to admit, she was a half an inch taller—with limbs of normal breadth and density.

“I’m bonding with Zee,” Casmir said.

“It looks like you’re making a mess.” Kim waved at the tools scattered around his work area as she headed to the kitchen where she filled two water bottles.

“You only say that because the deck looks like the living room back home.”

Home. Casmir felt surprisingly intense nostalgia and longing for the cottage they shared back on campus. The Stellar Dragon was heading to Odin, but until he had a chance to find and stop the terrorists who’d been sending stolen crushers after him for reasons he didn’t yet know, it wasn’t safe to return. He wasn’t even positive there was a home to return to. The last time they’d seen their cottage, a crusher had lurked on the threshold.

“Will you put a scoop of protein powder in mine?” Asger asked as Kim turned away from the kitchen and started to toss a bottle toward him.

“No.” She finished tossing it, then stepped over a couple of tools so she could sit at the table.

Asger blinked a couple of times as he looked down at the bottle. Casmir suspected others didn’t deny knights’ requests often, not others who weren’t of the nobility.

“Kim believes in people who can do things for themselves doing things for themselves,” Casmir explained, waving that the robot could step back and join the nine others lined up against the wall opposite Zee. The cadre of battle-bots, as their manufacturing plaques identified them, lacked Zee’s chattiness.

“Or at least putting in the request beforehand,” Kim murmured.

“I realized my macros are off for the day. I have to keep my physique in top shape, especially now that we’re returning home. If I don’t get arrested for assisting a felon, I have a competition next month.” Asger wriggled his eyebrows and flexed his biceps.

Kim rolled her eyes. If a man’s physique had ever impressed her, Casmir wasn’t aware of it.

“I’m thinking of asking the princess to come,” Asger added. “She probably won’t—I’m not even sure if she’s on-planet, right now—but as long as I need to take you to the castle anyway…”

“Princess Oku?” Casmir started picking up tools and returning them to his satchel. “Would she go to a bodybuilding competition? I thought her interests were travel and flowers.”

“Travel to pick out flowers,” Kim said.

“Right.”

“She has a lot of interests. She’s very smart. And beautiful.” Asger flattened a hand to his chest, and he sighed deeply, his eyes growing wistful.

“The princess is very smart?” Casmir asked. “That’s not the impression one gets from the media.”

“The media.” Asger snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “She lets them think whatever they wish. She may even encourage them to think she’s not very bright. If anything ever happened to Prince Jorg, she would be next in line for the throne, which would probably result in people trying to use her, and her younger brother trying to get rid of her. Prince Finn is a spoi—” Asger paused before continuing. “Finn wouldn’t be my first choice as a monarch.”

As Casmir finished putting away his tools, he grew concerned that he might have to interact with these royal celebrities that he’d largely ignored and knew little about. “You don’t think I’ll run into any of the queen’s children, do you? And need to be aware of more than their names? I know some people pay a great deal of attention to the hobbies, dalliances, and adventures and misadventures of the royal family, but I do not.”

Asger shook his head. “Probably not. I’m going to have to… not sneak you in exactly, but it’ll be desirable if we run into as few authority figures at the castle as possible.”

“Is that because the queen doesn’t know I’m coming yet?”

“I’m still working on securing your appointment.” Asger offered another dismissive wave, as if this was no great obstacle.

Casmir reminded himself that Asger read books on philosophy and was likely smarter than his biceps-flexing persona suggested. He wasn’t sure if he should trust the knight or not.

Kim stood up, having drunk and recuperated, and pointed the tip of her water bottle at Casmir. “You should have joined us in the cargo hold for some exercise.”

“I still have bruises from the last time I sparred with you.”

“It’s been weeks since we sparred. If you’re still bruised, you may want to get an exam, assuming you’re not on any anticoagulant medications or anti-platelet agents.”

“Just anti-foaming ones.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. So did Asger’s. Zee, the only one who might have gotten the joke, did not react. A tough room.

“With my limited athletic ability, I believe practicing swordsmanship isn’t the highest and best use of my time,” Casmir said. “I’ll stick with my current method of defending myself from bad guys.”

“Hiding behind your robots?”

“Precisely. I believe Qin would enjoy exerting herself physically with you two, if you intend to return to it.”

“She would be welcome to join us,” Kim said.

Asger didn’t scowl outright, but he did clench his jaw and adopt a mulish expression.

Did he still believe that Qin was the genetically modified cat woman who’d killed one of his knight friends? Even though Casmir had told him otherwise. Or was he, because of his ingrained Kingdom prejudices, simply positive that anyone genetically modified had to be evil?

As if someone with unicorn candles in her cabin could be evil.

As someone who prided himself on being able to get colleagues with strong personalities to work together, Casmir had been debating ways that he might do the same with them, but since he wasn’t in charge of either of them—if anything, Asger considered himself Casmir’s keeper—it was a challenge. Asger and Qin had worked together to help him take over the cargo ship, and they were the only reason he was still alive, but as far as he knew, they hadn’t spoken since returning to the freighter.

“Professor,” Bonita said, leaning through the hatchway. “I need you in navigation.”

“Of course, Captain.”

All day, Casmir had been expecting Bonita to let him know that she’d flown as close to Odin as she dared and it was time for him, Kim, and Asger to transfer over to the knight’s shuttle for the rest of the trip. Currently, the Dragon was towing it. At first, Casmir had been surprised Asger hadn’t opted to remain in it instead of flying on the century-old freighter, but his keeper had an easier time keeping an eye on him here. He might deem it likely that Casmir would hare off on his own instead of going to see the queen.

Casmir was nervous about essentially turning himself in. He doubted he would have chosen this route if he didn’t so long to talk to the queen, the person who’d originally sent a knight to warn him that people were trying to kill him. The person who had to know whose genes Casmir carried in his blood.

“You, too, Señor Knight,” Bonita called, waving for Asger to join her and Casmir in the corridor.

“It’s Sir Knight.” Asger frowned at her as he stepped out of the lounge and strode straight toward the ladder to navigation, as if he expected a comm to be waiting for him. Maybe he did. “Or Sir Asger,” he called back.

Bonita rolled her eyes. “Are all knights this difficult?” she muttered to Casmir.

“I haven’t interacted with that many, but they’re all talented warriors supremely confident in their ability to handle any situation, and they all come from the nobility, so they have a tendency toward…” He groped for a diplomatic way to finish that sentence.

“Assholeness?”

“Hubris.”

She rolled her eyes again, probably preferring her word.

“You can call me Señor Professor, if you like. That sounds rather exotic.” Casmir was fairly certain that meant Mr. Professor and was an invitation toward excessive honorifics, but he had no pride wrapped up in his title.

Bonita squinted at him. “You don’t have a lot of Mexicans in the Kingdom, do you?”

“Mexicans? Oh, people whose ancestors originated from Central America on Old Earth? No, the two colony ships that came to System Lion were from Europe and Japan. The Kingdom does allow immigration to Odin and our space habitats, but obtaining citizenship is more complicated than wiring up an eight-limbed Slatern-79 house-cleaning robot, and you’re encouraged to assimilate once you’re here.”

“Yeah, my understanding is that people who came from the minority world powers on Earth were never real eager to assimilate themselves once they found spots out there.” Bonita limped toward the ladder leading up to navigation, not quite hiding a grimace as she stepped onto the first rung.

“Oh, Captain,” Casmir blurted, reminded of earlier research he’d done for her. He rushed forward, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “I assume you’re not going to take us all the way to Odin, and since we have Asger’s shuttle, that shouldn’t be necessary, but when I sent you the schematic I patented, I believe I promised I’d get you in touch with some people who might be interested in buying it.”

Bonita stepped off the ladder and faced him, eyebrows raising.

“There may be many more, of course—” Casmir unfolded the paper and showed her the names and contact information he’d scribbled on it, “—but these are three companies on Odin that make and sell medical equipment. Kenko, right in the capital, has done other dispensing systems, so they may be interested in my bandage machine. My department has worked on a couple of things for them before, so you may find it useful to mention me. They also have a sister company that performs stem-cell-based therapies. I’m not sure how much value my patent will ultimately have—the entrepreneurs are always quick to point out that value is whatever someone will pay—but maybe you could negotiate for a discount…” Casmir waved to her legs since he’d seen her limp on both, though she tended to hide it if someone was watching. “On therapy. If that’s something you need or have ever considered. Maybe after things have settled down and Forseti Station has hopefully forgotten about you.”

Casmir smiled and offered the paper, hoping he wasn’t stepping across any of her boundaries. She never spoke of being in pain and seemed to have some of Asger’s pride herself, so she might not appreciate any help from him, but he did owe her for the transportation she’d given him and Kim.

“Huh.” Bonita accepted the paper. “Thanks.”

She climbed up the ladder, turning her face to the side, so he couldn’t see it this time if she grimaced.

Not sure if he’d offended her or pleased her, Casmir trailed her up to navigation where Asger was on the comm with someone. Two someones. A man and a woman were visible on the forward display, and they wore purple knights’ cloaks with earthy beige, brown, and green shirts and jackets that suggested they were enjoying Odin’s gravity rather than flying around in space somewhere a galaxy suit—or a knight’s liquid armor—would be more typical. Casmir had never seen a female knight, though he was vaguely aware that they existed. From what he’d heard, at any given time, there were only a couple dozen women who wanted the job, had the right blood, and could qualify for the stringent physical tests. Cybernetic implants weren’t forbidden on Odin, but the knights had always taken pride in being unchanging throughout the history of the Kingdom, including remaining purely human, and he didn’t think there were many exceptions.

“My understanding is that the bioweapon was destroyed by Captain Rache, along with Saga’s two refineries,” Asger was saying when Bonita and Casmir stepped into navigation.

“Your understanding?” The woman had short hair, broad features, and looked like she spent a lot of time angry. “That’s not good enough, especially when your reputation suggests your understanding is mainly of how to look pretty and model.”

Asger’s hands, which were down at his sides and out of sight of the camera, curled into fists. “The captain said that’s what happened, there were other witnesses, and I’ve seen no sign of it on the ship.”

“Whether it’s there now or not, that captain disabled Forseti Station’s weapons and threatened a knight with a deadly virus in order to escape,” the woman said.

“Technically, I threatened him with garlic and basil,” Bonita said.

The woman ignored her, perhaps because she wasn’t visible behind Asger’s broad back. “She’s not to be allowed anywhere near Odin. If you weren’t on board right now, with your shuttle toddling along behind, we’d be sending fighters to blow that old freighter out of the stars.”

“Old,” Viggo’s indignant voice came from a speaker.

Casmir wondered what his own status was with the various law enforcers, but he didn’t want to ask. He leaned against a side wall, staying out of sight of the camera pickup.

“If this freighter is denied access to Odin, simply say so,” Asger said. “I will transfer to my shuttle and part ways with the captain.”

“Of course it’s denied. And if you’re not a complete idiot, you’ll arrest the captain and bring her down to stand trial.”

Bonita’s eyebrows flew up.

“Right now, you’re on thin ice,” the female knight added. “Captain Sora Ishii’s report has filtered up to the head of Royal Intelligence and the king. You had better be prepared to explain yourself when you get home.”

“I am prepared to explain everything,” Asger said. “I have done nothing wrong.”

The woman opened her mouth to speak again, but her male comrade bumped her arm. He’d worn the unfocused expression of someone accessing the network or reading a message on one’s contacts, but it sharpened as he looked at Asger.

“I’ve received an update from Chief Superintendent Van Dijk,” he said. “Is Kim Sato aboard?”

“Yes,” Asger said.

Casmir grimaced. Kim wasn’t, as far as he knew, a part of any of the trouble he’d gotten himself in, but since she could be linked with him, he hated to have her presence announced.

“We’re willing to allow that freighter to land, providing the captain is willing to allow it to be searched. Van Dijk requests Sato be brought to the Royal Intelligence office for an interview.”

“I’ll let her know,” Asger said, even as Casmir shook his head off to the side.

He suspected this was about the Kingdom wanting the new strain of bacteria Kim had made, so she ought to be safe, but he still worried that she, as his friend, might be targeted by someone trying to get to him.

“I’ll transmit the coordinates of the air harbor where you’ll be permitted to land,” the male knight added. “Expect an escort to arrive shortly to help you find the location.”

“I’m sure I know all the air harbors on the continent and can guide the captain down,” Asger said dryly.

The knight’s eyes narrowed. “You will be escorted. Do not let the captain diverge from the coordinates. I trust you are capable of keeping a seventy-year-old woman in line.”

Now, Bonita’s fists clenched. One even twitched toward her DEW-Tek pistol, as if she might shoot the man through the display. Or maybe she was considering shooting Asger for presuming to talk to such a man.

“Of course,” Asger said. “Asger, out.”

The display went dark, and he turned to face the seething Bonita. She wasn’t speaking, but her face was red, and she looked like she might spring for his throat at any second.

“I believe,” Casmir said, raising his hands, “that Laser has already decided she isn’t going to accompany us to Odin, Sir Asger. She’s been more than accommodating already in transporting us this far. Don’t you think we could go to these special coordinates in your shuttle?”

Asger’s eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded Bonita and ignored Casmir. “I have orders to bring the ship down.”

“I’m not taking the Dragon down to Odin, not with escorts, and not at all,” Bonita said. “Not when we’d need your precious and monitored launch loop to break atmosphere again. Step aside, Sir Asger.” She pointed at the piloting pod behind him.

Asger didn’t move. He wasn’t as tense and poised-to-spring as Bonita was, but he did look determined.

“Asger?” Casmir asked, stepping closer to them, even if putting himself in a knight’s path seemed dangerous—and he wasn’t sure how wise it was to step in Bonita’s way right now either. “Should I be concerned that your knight friends didn’t mention me at all?” Casmir looked up at Asger, noticing how much taller the knight was than he, and patted him on the chest. “My modest pride isn’t at all crumpled by having Kim receive more attention than I, but you’d mentioned arranging that meeting with the queen for me. Do you think that will still happen? Your fellow knights seemed less than delighted with you.”

“Four Kingdom fighters have departed a station we’re passing, and they are flying in this direction,” Viggo announced. “Swiftly. Approximate arrival in thirty-seven minutes.”

“Step aside, Asger,” Bonita said again. “You can leave if you want, but my ship and I are not sticking around.”

Asger sighed. “I must obey my superiors, Captain. This freighter will land on Odin at the coordinates being sent. I’m sorry. If you didn’t want this to happen, you should have left the system instead of coming back toward Odin.”

“I was giving Dabrowski and Sato a ride. And you’ve been freeloading on here too. I’m towing your damn shuttle for nothing. And, damn it, how am I supposed to cash in on that patent if I flee the system?” Bonita threw Casmir an exasperated expression, then jerked the paper he’d given her into the air.

“Shall I reverse course, Bonita?” Viggo was capable of steering the freighter without her input.

“Yes,” Bonita snapped.

“No.” Asger’s gaze dipped toward Bonita’s hand.

It hovered over her holstered pistol. He hadn’t reached for his pertundo yet, the telescoping halberd-like weapon hanging from his own belt, but Casmir had no doubt he could draw it quickly. More quickly than Bonita could draw her pistol? He didn’t know. Right now, Asger wore his liquid armor, with only his head unprotected, since his helmet was folded back. The idea that Bonita would be forced to fire at his face if she wanted her shot to be effective made Casmir sick.

“Friends,” Casmir said, addressing them both, “we’ve worked together already. Successfully. We can work together again. What do we all want here? Let’s figure out how we can make a deal that benefits both sides.”

They continued to glower at each other. Their hands dipped toward their weapons.

Casmir had already shifted toward them, and now he stepped right between them. “Enough. Viggo, please do as Bonita wishes. Asger, you can’t best everybody on the ship, so let’s not start this, eh? Even if you out-draw Laser, you’d have to deal with Qin.”

Asger snorted. In dismissal? Casmir had a hard time believing Asger truly believed he could easily best her. Hadn’t he seen her in action against those robots on the cargo ship? She’d been just as effective as he.

“And my cadre of friends,” Casmir added.

A shadow appeared in the corridor outside. Zee. Impeccable timing. Had he heard the raised voices?

For the first time, Asger’s confident expression faltered. As it should. Zee had held him up by the scruff of the neck before.

“We could fight and get bruises and broken bones, or we could just tell your knight friends that we did and say it didn’t go your way.” Casmir smiled at Asger again.

Asger glared, but at least this time, he looked at Casmir. Also in exasperation. Odd how often he elicited that expression in people.

“I can’t lie to them.” Asger lifted his chin. “If you wish me to report that I was defeated due to superior numbers and wasn’t able to deliver this freighter as requested, then you must actually defeat me.”

Casmir wished he had more of that tranquilizer he’d used on Asger before. He didn’t want to fight him—or order Zee to fight him—not when he’d risked his life to help Casmir keep Rache from getting the gate.

Gravity shifted, then disappeared, and Casmir’s stomach writhed in protest. He realized what was happening right away, since he’d endured it before when the ship switched from acceleration to deceleration, flipping over so that the force continued to simulate gravity pushing them against the deck, but during the previous times, he’d been warned so he could strap into a pod. Now he found his feet lifting from the deck, his head angling toward a wall.

Someone’s elbow clunked him on the shoulder. He scrambled and managed to grasp a handhold. His stomach grew heavy as more gravity than he’d experienced in a while pressed down on his body.

“Actually,” Viggo said, “in order for this freighter to be delivered to a planet against Bonita’s wishes, it is I you would have to defeat.”

The ship settled down with gravity taking Casmir’s feet toward the deck again. Asger spun, scowling at the control panel while his hand rested on his pertundo.

“I’d recommend against defeating the ship we’re inside of and relying on to provide life support,” Casmir hurried to say.

Bonita folded her arms over her chest. “We are not going to Odin.”

The comm beeped.

“And you can tell your meddling friends that right now.” She pointed at the panel.

“That transmission isn’t coming from Odin,” Viggo said.

“Is it from one of those fighter ships?” Casmir wondered how many minutes they had left until the Kingdom escort arrived.

“No,” Viggo said.

Asger was closer to the control panel and sighed as he identified the comm signal. “It’s Captain Ishii.”

Casmir slumped against the wall. He’d been puzzled that he hadn’t been mentioned in the comm from the knights, but he had a feeling he would figure prominently in this transmission. Ishii had tried to comm him numerous times after he’d finished dealing with Rache’s ship in the gate battle. At the time, Casmir had been on the cargo ship, its highly advanced stealth generator hiding it from scanners, so he’d felt safe ignoring the captain. He doubted they could do that now.

“Since you two are good friends, and you’re standing right there, I assume you’ll want to take that.” Casmir extended his hand in invitation.

“Right.” Asger gazed down at the flashing indicator without moving his hand toward it.

“Or we could pretend we’re not home,” Casmir suggested.

“Because that would obviously work on a spaceship,” Bonita said.

“Viggo could be flying it by himself, taking a tour of the system.”

“Is it a recording or a live feed?” Bonita asked. “How far away is his warship? Any chance he’s still out at the gate?”

“The Osprey and another Kingdom warship are, at their present speed, approximately fourteen hours away from Odin,” Viggo said. “And ten from us.”

“Is the latter relevant because they’re on a course for us?” Bonita glowered over at Casmir.

He lifted his hands, wishing he could say this wasn’t his fault, but it was. Bonita had gotten into trouble with the knights by herself, but Ishii would be after Casmir because of the gate.

“It appears likely,” Viggo said.

Asger shook his head and answered the comm.

“Sir Asger here,” he said with calm authority and no suggestion that he deeply regretted getting involved with Casmir and his friends.

“Where’s Dabrowski?” Ishii snapped, his face filling the display. His angry, irritated, and weary face, if Casmir was reading him correctly. “Hiding behind one of those pods? He likes hiding.”

Casmir willed Asger to say he’d stepped out for a smoke, but he faced Casmir expectantly. That knightly inclination toward honesty was inconvenient at times.

“Hello, Sora.” Casmir smiled and waved as he stepped into the camera’s pickup. “What can I do for you?”

Ishii sputtered. Casmir couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a man sputter.

“Where the hell is the gate?” Ishii finally spat out.

“I didn’t want anyone else to be afflicted with the radiation it’s exuding, so I left it someplace safe until such time as I can speak with the king or queen.” Definitely the queen. He hoped.

“Speak with the king!” Ishii sputtered again. He had better get some water after this conversation. At this rate, he would be dehydrated by the time the comm ended. “You’re not a high-ranking fleet officer, not a knight, not even a noble. You don’t get to speak with the king. You’re a nobody.”

“Have you not kept up with my publications, Sora? I’m quite well known in the field of bipedal, self-powered robots.”

Ishii slapped his hand to his forehead. “You’re not going to get in to see the king. If anything, you’re on your way to an oubliette. Tell me where the gate is, and we’ll deal with the radiation threat.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable doing that.” Casmir opened his mouth to continue on, but Ishii interrupted.

“You’re not comfortable? This isn’t the Rirakkusu Spa, Dabrowski. I’m going to catch up with that rickety freighter and string you up and interrogate you. With drugs. Lots of them. I don’t care if you have ten seizures on the deck; I’ll find out where you hid that gate.”

“Thank you for the offer of more adventure in your sickbay, but I’m going to have to decline.” Casmir spoke quickly so Ishii couldn’t interrupt again. “I can promise you that Rache doesn’t know where it is either. And the astroshamans who stole it the first place… They didn’t make it. Did you know you were doing battle with an android? With the help of my friends, I disabled it. You’re welcome. I know it—Tork-57 was his designation—was troubling you. I was pleased that I was able to keep it from destroying your ships and escaping back to its system. It was my honor to serve the Kingdom and help the military.” Casmir smiled brightly as he lunged past Asger to cut off the comm before Ishii could get in any more threats—or demand that Asger arrest him.

Ishii was in the middle of sputtering again when the display went dark.

Bonita and Asger stared at Casmir. Even Zee was gazing in his direction, such as he could gaze without eyes.

“I was trying to remind him that he is somewhat as-seen-from-a-certain-point-of-view indebted to me,” Casmir said. “Do you think it worked?”

“I think you better sleep with your robot under your pillow at night for a while,” Bonita said.

Asger nodded.

They were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing him. Their earlier antagonism seemed to have been forgotten. Should he be pleased that his plight had distracted them?

“Zee would be a strange bedfellow,” Casmir said.

“You’re a strange bedfellow.” Bonita shook her head.

“Shall I maintain our new course away from Odin?” Viggo asked. “Because we are currently flying straight toward the warships. Also, those fighters have shifted course to ensure they intercept us, now in approximately twenty-three minutes.”

Bonita dropped her chin to her chest. “Just… take us to Odin. Their coordinates. After we’re thrown in jail, maybe Casmir’s robots will rescue us.”

Casmir didn’t point out that he might end up in the adjoining cell. Or oubliette.

Shaking her head, Bonita shuffled out of navigation, not bothering to hide her limp.

“Any chance you’ve arranged that appointment with the queen yet?” Casmir asked Asger.

“Not yet. I don’t have her direct comm code, but I left a message.”

Left a message? Casmir was fairly certain he could have commed the castle and left a message with some minion. This was not going to go well.

2

Qin Liangyu Three sat in the co-pilot’s pod as the blue and green of Odin’s oceans and continents filled the display, a fluffy band of white clouds hugging a mountain range. Even knowing that trouble awaited, she couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the planet.

She supposed it was silly to wish they could stay longer this time. During their last visit, she’d only gotten to step foot off the Stellar Dragon in that shipyard, and that had been to help with repairs. She wanted to see and smell the forests and lakes and oceans that she’d only read about in books and seen in videos. As someone who’d been raised on a space station and then sold to the Drucker pirate family where she’d lived solely on a ship, she loved nothing more than the exoticness of walking on grass and dirt.

“The knights said they’re going to search the ship.” Bonita looked over at her from the pilot’s pod. Her boots were up against the console, her body scrunched in on itself. “Thoroughly, I’m sure. There’s probably not any point in you hiding. That damn Asger would point you out.”

“I know. I’ll just… try to look innocuous so they don’t worry about me.”

Bonita glanced at Qin’s hands—her claws. They were as retracted as possible, painted purple and covered with tiny unicorn decals—Bonita had done the application herself—but that didn’t make it any less obvious that Qin had claws instead of flat human fingernails. Her hands looked human, aside from the light dusting of fur on the backs, and her face was human…ish, but her pointed cat’s ears always stuck out of her hair, no matter how she wore it. Add to that her six-feet-two-inches of height and musculature to rival Asger’s, and there was no missing that she was genetically modified—and had been from birth.

“Good plan,” was all Bonita said.

“Should I wear my combat armor? Or will we let them question us without resisting?”

Bonita closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “There’s not any point in resisting. I’m sorry, Qin. I’m not sure how I let us get sucked back to this crotch of a planet.”

“You were helping a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Casmir? I’m not sure I’ve elevated him to friendship status. He’s a passenger.” Bonita withdrew a folded piece of paper and rubbed it thoughtfully between her fingers and thumb.

“I like him. He’s a friend to me.”

“You like and want to make friends with everyone.”

“Not everyone.” Qin sent a dark glower over her shoulder, though nobody was standing in the short corridor behind navigation. She’d made sure Asger wasn’t around before slinking up to join Bonita.

He made her uncomfortable. He hadn’t called her a freak or attacked her lately, but she wouldn’t assume that meant he’d changed his feelings about her. He’d simply been avoiding her—and she him. When they did pass in the corridor, he looked past her without acknowledging her existence. As if she were furniture.

“I’ll assume that glare isn’t for Kim or the crusher,” Bonita said.

“No.”

Qin didn’t want to talk about it and was relieved when Bonita unfolded the paper and studied that instead of asking more questions.

“I contacted these people Casmir gave me and left messages.” Bonita stuck one of her legs straight out on the console, grimacing at her knee. “He seems to genuinely think that schematic he gave me is worth something. I know it’s patented—I checked—but a lot of useless junk is patented.”

“You didn’t think it was worth something all along?”

“Not really.”

“Then why did you pick him up and agree to bring him back to Odin?” Qin smiled. “Could it have been friendship?”

“Desperation, maybe.” Bonita held up a finger. “I have a message coming in. Huh, it’s from one of these companies.”

“Oh?”

“The one in the capital. Let’s see what they say. As long as we have to go to Odin anyway, I might as well try to make some money. Viggo needs parts, and I need to pay his taxes to stay legal in our home system.” Bonita’s eyes grew unfocused.

Qin knew her captain was in a financial bind, and hadn’t said anything about the lack of pay over the past two months. She wondered if Bonita’s hope that she could make a deal on Odin had anything to do with why they were going along meekly with the knights’ orders. Not that they had much choice with a warship zeroing in on them and the fighters—their promised escort—flying in formation around the freighter. It wasn’t as if the Dragon had stealth technology, and there weren’t many places to hide in space without it.

Bonita lowered her finger. “A Baron Takahashi is interested in speaking with us about acquiring the patent.”

“That’s good.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure if I can figure out how to evade the Kingdom Guard or knights—whoever shows up to search the ship—and slip out into the city for a meeting. Also, this guy wants to meet me and Casmir. I’m reading between the lines that he doesn’t believe the patent is mine to do with as I please, and he wants to see the designer in person to vouch for me.” Her lip curled at this slight to her honor.

“I would happily go with you into the city.” Qin had read that Zamek was full of canals and parks and had a religious boulevard lined with churches and shrines and temples on a bluff that overlooked the sea. She did not think Odin had Buddhist temples, but she would be curious to see a Shinto shrine. Maybe it would be surrounded by trees and shrubbery, and grass that she could walk barefoot on. Was that allowed? It had to be. “You’ll need a bodyguard, right, Captain?”

“Let’s find out if we can slip away first. I—uh, Qin?” Bonita’s voice took on a strange note. Was she still reading messages? “When was the last time you checked the bounty hunters’ net group for lists of prospects?”

“I’ve never checked it. Do you want me to add monitoring it to my duties? Are we going to avoid smuggling and return to bounty-hunting?”

Bonita turned a grave expression toward her, then nodded at the forward display as she transmitted her data to it.

Qin’s heart shriveled up when her face appeared under the bright red words: 15,000 Union Dollars.

“There’s a bounty out for me?”

It had to be the Druckers. After she ran away, unfortunately doing a poor job of staging her death, she’d gotten away from the men the family had sent to retrieve her. She’d arranged for them to be arrested instead, since they’d had bounties of their own on their heads, and she’d hoped—a deluded hope—that it would end there, that neither Framer nor Khan would send more people after her.

Damn it, she was nineteen. If she were a completely human girl who’d been born to parents, she would be free to chart her own course by now. She understood that they had paid for her to be brought into the world, and that in some systems, that granted indefinite ownership, but she wasn’t in one of those systems now.

“Sort of.” Bonita waved at the smaller text under the photograph. “It’s promising a reward for the retrieval of stolen property.”

“Stolen! Nobody stole me. I stole myself.”

“The law gets fuzzy in places like System Cerberus where slavery is legal.” Bonita gazed over at her, maybe wondering where she’d been born.

Qin sighed without answering. In a genetics lab on a station in Cerberus, of course. She didn’t think she’d ever told Bonita that. She’d been so relieved when Bonita had agreed to give her a job, a job on a spaceship that had seemed to represent the epitome of freedom, that she hadn’t wanted to share the sordid details of her past. She hadn’t evaded direct questions, but she also hadn’t wanted to risk making herself undesirable—too dangerous to take on board.

“Yeah,” she said glumly. “Are you going to turn me in?”

“Of course not. Though we better make sure Asger doesn’t see this. He might turn you in.”

“Casmir wouldn’t let him.”

“Casmir is a foot shorter than he is and not in much better of a position than we are.” Bonita tapped her chin. “He may be in a worse position than we are.”

“But he has Zee.” Qin couldn’t help but think fondly of the big robot. Maybe she should have grown up reading stories about robots that rescued girls instead of knights that apparently only rescued very pretty and fully human girls. Possibly only of the nobility.

“Yes, Zee and all those others. Maybe they’ll be enough to keep him from being arrested. We’re going to need him for a meeting with this baron.”

“You’re sure you’re going to go?”

“I am now.” Bonita flicked her finger, and the horrific stolen property report disappeared. “Because we need to figure out how to make enough money to buy your contract or title—what do slavers call it?—from this Drucker family. Then you can be your own free person.”

Qin leaned out of her pod. Would that be possible? She had never considered trying to buy her freedom. Because she didn’t have anywhere near 15,000 Union dollars, and that was just what the Druckers were offering as a reward. They would want more to tear up the paperwork and proclaim her free.

“It’ll cost more than fifteen thousand,” she warned, hoping Bonita hadn’t already etched the figure into her mind.

“Maybe not. We just need someone who’s good at negotiating to talk to them. Someone who can point out that they could get nothing since you are such a formidable warrior and can destroy anyone they send after you. Once they wisely see that, fifteen thousand may seem like a steal.”

Qin hesitated. She wasn’t a negotiator. And Bonita had a short temper and a tendency to reach for her pistol at any hint of an impasse. “Do you know a good negotiator?”

“Casmir has promised me he has the ability to get people to donate million-crown robots to his university department.”

“You think we should send him to negotiate with pirates for me? Captain, I don’t think he’s ever met a pirate.” Qin liked Casmir, but she’d noticed he was as likely to turn people into enemies as allies. And she wasn’t sure his easy-going, let’s-just-be-friends antics would work on the Druckers. They might shoot him. Besides, she couldn’t ask him to come with her to another system.

“If Rache counts, he has. And he didn’t seem daunted by Rache.”

“That is true.” Qin shuddered, having her own unpleasant memories of the mercenary. She would be daunted by an encounter with him.

“So, we’ve got a plan. Land on Odin, elude the Kingdom Guards who will show up to interrogate us, sneak off to this meeting, somehow kidnap Casmir long enough to go with us, and then convince this baron to give us lots of money for a drawing on a virtual piece of paper. Then we buy your freedom from the Druckers. Easy.”

“Easy? You ran out of breath just listing all that.”

“We’ll do it, kid.”

Qin was skeptical, but she smiled anyway. She stood and hugged Bonita, appreciating that she cared enough to try and wouldn’t simply turn her in for the money. Then she skipped through the hatchway.

“Formidable warriors don’t skip, Qin,” Bonita called after her.

“What?” Qin paused in the ladder well. “Not even if they do it quietly?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What about sashaying? Is sashaying allowed?”

“No. It might get that knight excited.”

Qin knew it was a joke, but she couldn’t keep from frowning, aware of the unlikeliness of that. Not that she wanted some jerk who called her a freak to get excited, but it would be nice to be able to interest men who weren’t pirates who owned her and felt entitled to use her however they wished.

“No sashaying,” she agreed softly and descended the ladder, wondering if she truly had any chance to escape the Druckers’ long reach.

* * *

Kim gripped the handhold next to the porthole in the lounge as the Stellar Dragon descended toward an air harbor she didn’t recognize. The swath of cracked pavement was miles from the ocean in an industrial part of the city. As she watched, the four escort ships veered away, heading north, to some other port or perhaps to the launch loop to return to their space station.

“I guess they think we’re committed at this point.” Kim glanced at Casmir.

He sat, almost hidden in the nearest pod, its smart sides curved to protect him during the landing. His face was a rictus of discomfort, but Kim doubted it had anything to do with g-forces. They were descending on an almost vertical line and at a reasonable speed, the ship’s thrusters firing from the flat side of its dome-shaped body. The deck vibrated fiercely underfoot, and something rattled in a kitchen cabinet. The tug of Odin’s gravity felt intense after so many weeks at half a g or less. She felt twinges of dizziness and queasiness if she moved her head too quickly.

“Did you take a motion-sickness pill?” she asked.

“Yes. Laser warned me that returning to full gravity after being in space tends to make a person puke and fall over, not necessarily in that order.”

Kim nodded, remembering that she’d felt off for days after returning from her research study aboard the planet’s orbital space station. The motion-sickness pills had helped her a lot, but she knew not everyone was that lucky.

“Hopefully, you’ll complete your puking experience before your meeting with the queen.” She smiled, meaning it as a joke, but Casmir’s eyes widened, and he groaned.

“Why did you say that? That’s exactly the kind of thing that would happen to me. The instant I thought that nurse on the Osprey was cute, I had a seizure.”

Kim didn’t remember him relaying that part of his adventure on Captain Ishii’s ship. “Because her cuteness made you stress out and panic?”

“No, because she pumped me full of a drug I ended up being allergic to. The eslevoamytal.”

“Ah. If it helps, it’s unlikely the queen will give you that.”

“Thanks.”

“She’ll have a minion give it to you.”

“You’re extremely helpful. I hope—” The ship adjusted its angle for the final landing, and his face grew green, and he took a deep breath. “No, I won’t hope that on you.”

“What’s that?”

“I was going to wish you’d throw up on the Royal Intelligencer’s shoes, but you’re the only one on this ship not in danger of being thrown in a dungeon. I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“You’re a good man, Casmir.”

“I appreciate you… saying that… but if it were true… there wouldn’t be so many… people trying to kill me.” Casmir closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

Kim decided to stop speaking to him, because he was obliging enough that he would keep trying to answer, even if it made his condition worse. But she did finish with a firm, “We’ll get it straightened out. If nothing else, Rache promised me a favor for saving his men’s lives.”

Casmir snorted. “If he’s smart… he won’t come… anywhere near Odin.”

“He’s as smart as you are, and you’re here.”

“Funny.”

Casmir was probably right. Given how badly King Jager and the military wanted Rache dead, he would be foolish to bring his mercenaries anywhere near the planet.

As the ship settled onto an open area surrounded by freighters of all makes and models, some rusty and dilapidated enough to give the effect of a junkyard, an alert flashed on Kim’s contact. Appointment reminder, it read, as if she had a massage scheduled for later that afternoon. Royal Intelligence Headquarters, Chief Superintendent Van Dijk’s office, in one hour. A map appeared to show her the location, adjacent to the castle on a bluff in the wealthy part of the city, overlooking the ocean.

Casmir had warned her about Asger’s message, so she wasn’t unprepared. But she had assumed she would be allowed to rest for a night, reacclimate herself to gravity, and consume no fewer than eight excellent cups of coffee before being expected to show up.

Nothing about the alert asked for a confirmation or suggested that the meeting was optional.

“Nobles,” she muttered, certain this Van Dijk qualified. The rank suggested he or she had come out of the Kingdom Guard, but most high-ranking military and political positions were only open to those of noble blood, and therefore deemed trustworthy in the eyes of the king. “I’m glad I don’t usually have to deal with them.”

Nerves twisted in her stomach at the knowledge that she needed to deal with them today. And would likely be late for this meeting, since getting across the city in an hour seemed a challenging proposition, even if this remote landing pad was close to one of the mag-tube stations.

The reverberations coursing through the deck faded, and the ship grew quiet.

“I was hoping that would bring relief,” Casmir said, his eyes still closed, “but I feel weird pressure in my sinuses. My ears are stuffy.”

“You’re probably going to die.”

“That would solve some of my problems.”

“Only some?”

“It would create others. I would feel bad for my parents. They would have unexpected funeral planning and expenses, and they’d wonder what happened to me, because I never felt comfortable sending them long messages to explain everything, not when it might put them in danger. Remind me to send a message as soon as my stomach settles. Also, if I died, you would have to deal with all my belongings at the house. See? Problems, aplenty.”

“Yes, I see. Your comic-book collection is large.”

Someone jogged past the lounge hatchway. Asger?

“Do you need help getting up, Casmir?” Kim asked. “It seems I have a firm appointment time at the Royal Intelligence office, so I had better leave as soon as the hatch opens.”

She wondered if she would have trouble getting past the Guards or knights that were sent to search the ship. She hoped not.

“Nope. Not getting up today.” Casmir’s eyes were still closed, his face still green. “Maybe tomorrow. Or next Thursday. After the world stops feeling—” He broke off with a moan.

“Good luck then.”

“Wait!” Casmir’s eyes opened and he lurched to his feet, grabbing the wall for support. He flung up a hand, but bent double before he could say what had leaped into his mind. He staggered over to the kitchen and demonstrated just how sick he was.

Kim looked away, trying not to let the noise make her sick.

Zee and Casmir’s cadre of robots watched blandly from the wall, apparently not considering this something they could protect him from.

“Sorry,” Casmir said after a minute, wiping his face and wobbling slowly back to her, clutching a hand towel to his chest. “You said you’re going out by yourself? To that meeting?”

“I don’t think I have a choice. Do you want to come with me?” Kim had been trying not to judge him for his decision to hide the gate and take on a burden that he was by no means qualified for or obligated to handle, but it was hard when he was getting himself deeper and deeper into trouble with each passing day. She wouldn’t be surprised if a company of soldiers waited out there to drag him off. “It might not be too late to report where you hid that ship… without repercussions.”

“No. I’m still hoping Asger can indeed get me in to see the queen. She wants me alive, so I’m hoping she’ll be more sympathetic than people who are indifferent to my zoetic state.”

“Maybe this chief superintendent will take you to see her.”

“I doubt it. But look, if you’re going off alone, I want you to take Zee. For protection.”

“Casmir.” Kim looked him over, from hair in need of cutting to dirty towel clutched to his chest, to the rumpled rockets-and-robots T-shirt he’d been wearing under his galaxy suit for weeks, aside from brief laundering stints. “I think you need protection a lot more than I do.”

“I’ll have Asger.”

“A man who has sworn an oath of loyalty to the king, not you.”

“It’ll be fine. I’m going where he wants me to go. Look, I’m worried about the terrorists, Kim. And however many crushers they still have in their possession. I know I’m their target, but I’m worried they’ll try to get to me through you, especially if they see you walking alone in the city. I know you’re not defenseless, but why take a chance? Nobody will bother you if you’re walking down the street with Zee.” Casmir extended a hand toward the stolid black crusher.

Kim imagined small children fleeing into alleys to get away from Zee. Also large children, adults, dogs, cats, and birds.

“Can I put a bow on him?” she asked.

“You want to accessorize him? Certainly.” Casmir looked toward Zee. “Uhm, what color?”

“Pink.”

A hint of horror filled his eyes. “How about blue? Blue is nice.”

“I want him to be less intimidating to innocent people we pass.”

“Blue isn’t intimidating. How about periwinkle? And maybe more of a tie than a bow. He’s not a dog. He’s dignified.”

A robot vacuum zipped into the lounge, circled Casmir’s feet twice, and then vacuumed up the side of the cabinets and into the sink area.

“As all robots are,” Kim said.

“Indeed. Just take him with you. Please. I’m sure you won’t regret it. Zee, will you go with Kim and protect her today, please?”

“Yes.” Zee strode forward, heavy metal feet clanging on the deck, and stood at Kim’s side—a foot taller than she.

It was going to take more than a pink bow to make him less intimidating. Maybe an entire suit in the color. She could buy him a periwinkle handkerchief to make Casmir happy.

“All right, Zee. We better get going.” Kim headed for the hatchway but paused to look back. “Do robots require train tickets?”

“Unless you want him to ride in the cargo area—and you don’t—they do. I have, however, argued that the medical robots I was working on before this all started are similar to therapy dogs and should ride for free as long as they don’t require a seat.”

Kim snorted. “Does that work?”

“It depends on how susceptible the ticket-taker is to my charms.”

“So if the ticket-taker is a robot, you’re in?”

“If the ticket-taker is a robot, we both usually ride for free.”

Kim couldn’t tell if he was pulling her leg or not. Was it possible the robots of Odin networked with each other and had deemed Casmir a robot-friendly human deserving of superior service?

Casmir winked at her. “I also do well with women aged forty-five to seventy-five, who believe I’m adorable.”

She snorted again, decided he had been joking about the robots, and headed for the ladder. If she had to navigate her way past a company of Guards, she had better do it quickly.

The cargo hold was quiet when she reached it, with Bonita and Asger gazing outside. The wide hatch was open and all the way down, serving as a ramp leading to the pavement where sunlight glinted off puddles left by an overnight rain. Kim couldn’t see anyone outside yet. Qin stood a few paces back, her big anti-tank gun not in hand today. She and Bonita weren’t wearing their armor or weapons, having decided, it appeared, to cooperate with the authorities. Asger wore his liquid armor and pertundo and carried his pack over his shoulder, prepared to leave for good, perhaps. She didn’t know what had happened to his shuttle, if it had been left in orbit or landed on its own.

Kim stepped up beside Bonita. There was no sign of the Kingdom Guard she had expected. There was no sign of anyone, not even the robot loaders typical at industrial air harbors. Horns honked and beeped in the distance, and she heard the rumble of a mag train passing somewhere, but outside, nothing stirred.

“Where are your buddies, Sir Knight?” Bonita asked.

“I don’t know.” Asger’s brow was furrowed, and he genuinely sounded puzzled. “I just sent a message and haven’t received a response yet.” He looked at Kim, then at Zee, who came to a stop behind her. “Where’s Casmir?”

“Puking.”

“Didn’t he take a motion-sickness pill? That usually helps with reacclimating to gravity.”

“He says he did. You may have to carry him to see the queen.” Kim raised her eyebrows. “Or are you still waiting for a message from her people too?” She didn’t try to keep the suspicion out of her tone.

She knew Asger and Casmir had been through a battle together, but she barely knew the knight. She highly doubted he would put Casmir’s safety above his duty.

“Still waiting. I—”

“Ssh.” Bonita jerked a hand up and pointed across the pavement toward a pair of freighters parked close together. “Trouble.”

At first, Kim didn’t see anything in the shadows of the freighters, but then she picked out movement. And groaned. The all-black crushers blended in well with the dark pavement, their tarry bodies absorbing sunlight rather than reflecting it.

“Unless those belong to your people?” Bonita stepped back while looking at Asger. Her hand lifted to the hatch controls, poised there.

Four crushers sprinted toward them. A squad of men in mismatched combat armor appeared between the freighters, then sprinted right after the crushers.

“No.” Asger shook his head. “My people should be here, but—”

Bonita slammed her palm against the hatch controls, not waiting to hear the rest.

The first two crushers sprang toward the Dragon as the hatch-ramp lifted from the pavement. The process wasn’t fast enough, and they caught the lip of the hatch before it closed all the way.

“Shit,” Bonita swore, sprinting for the small armory between engineering and the hold. “Qin, weapons!”

“Bring me my Brockinger,” Qin yelled back as she sprang in front of Kim, landing in a fighting stance with her fists up.

One of the crushers made it inside and sprang toward her. The second leaped for Asger.

The only one with weapons already, he whipped his pertundo from its holder, telescoping out the handle and using it like a spear. He jabbed the long point at the crusher, trying to keep it at bay.

Zee pushed Kim backward as he rushed to intercept the crusher attacking Qin.

The banging of metal on metal came from the hatch. The hands of the third and fourth crushers gripped the edge, just their fingers visible. The hatch kept trying to shut but it got stuck on them. The hands shifted into levers, and more warping and wrenching sounds echoed through the cargo hold as the crushers pried open the hatch.

“Casmir!” Kim yelled over her shoulder. “We need the rest of your robots.”

She looked at her own empty hands and ran behind crates ratcheted to the deck near the corridor leading into the ship. The idea of hiding made her bristle, but it wasn’t as if her fists would do anything against crushers.

“Captain Lopez,” Kim yelled, “bring me a weapon too.”

Zee hurled one of the crushers across the cargo hold so hard that its head dented the hull. Unfortunately, the blow did nothing to damage it. The crusher landed and sprang to its feet. Kim expected it to leap back into the fray against Zee, Asger, and Qin, but it paused in a crouch, its quasi-human face turning slowly as it looked around the cargo hold.

Looked? Kim had no idea where whatever optical sensors it had were. From what she’d seen when Casmir had constructed Zee, all of their programming was in the nanites in their matrix, and she had the impression that those worked akin to cells rather than the cybernetic sensory organs in an android.

However it saw, she shuddered when its face pointed straight at her. She couldn’t be its target, could she?

Its head shifted a couple of inches to the side as Casmir ran out of the corridor. He halted abruptly, gaping at the mayhem as Qin was hurled into a bulkhead. Bonita ran into view with three rifles and Qin’s huge shell gun.

“Qin!” Bonita threw the big gun across the cargo hold.

The crusher that had been watching Casmir and Kim leaped higher than any human could and intercepted the throw, catching the gun out of the air. It landed as Bonita cursed and opened fire with one of the DEW-Tek rifles. Crimson energy bolts hammered the crusher as it sprinted toward Casmir.

Kim grabbed him and pulled him behind the crate, though she knew that wouldn’t do anything to protect him.

Several of his battle-bots ran out of the corridor. Clunks, bangs, and screeches erupted as they plowed into the crusher at top speed. Something flew and clanged against the wall behind Kim and Casmir.

She ducked as she pulled him farther from the melee. A robot arm tumbled to the deck with a clatter.

Casmir swore. “I just attached that.”

His robots weren’t going to be up to battling a crusher; Kim could tell already.

Then the crusher flew past, disappearing backward into the corridor. Kim was confused until another crusher sprang after it—Zee.

“Go, Zee, go!” Casmir hollered.

“Shush.” Kim tugged him through the narrow aisle between crates and the bulkhead, hoping to work their way around to Bonita, so they could get a couple of those rifles. “They’re here for you.”

“All the more reason to cheer my guys on.”

Casmir scrambled after her, and when they reached the end of the crates, they found Bonita, her back to them as she leaned out and fired. Two of the extra rifles she’d grabbed lay at her feet.

Without glancing back, she somehow sensed their approach and kicked the weapons behind her to Kim and Casmir. She kept firing methodically, her entire body steady. Nobody seemed to be targeting her—yet.

The cacophony of robots and crushers—and Qin and Asger—battling for their lives echoed from the bulkheads, slamming at Kim’s eardrums like a hammer on an anvil. She grabbed the rifles and thrust one into Casmir’s hands. Judging by his expression, he felt she’d just given him a poisonous snake, and she doubted he would use it. Kim didn’t know what it said about her that she would.

“Watch our backs,” Kim told him, jerking her chin along the wall the way they had come.

“Right.” Casmir faced the indicated direction, the rifle loose in his grip. “I’m placing two of the robots in the way as barriers.”

Kim eased into the gap between Bonita’s shoulder and the wall so she could get a view of the main battle by the hatch. The hatch that was stuck halfway open with the men in combat armor now swarming through. Kim groaned.

Bonita was targeting them—four had already made their way in—while Qin, Asger, and Zee kept the enemy crushers busy. Casmir’s other robots were harassing the armored men, whoever they were. Not Kingdom Guard or Fleet—they would have been in matching armor in the same colors as their uniforms. Nor were they knights. Knights all dressed like Asger. Kim feared these were the terrorists that had been sending the crushers after Casmir all along. But maybe that was good. If they could capture and question one…

The trouble was getting to them through their armor. Bonita was targeting their seams with impressive accuracy, but it wasn’t doing much.

Growling, Bonita leaned back and pulled a grenade from a cargo pocket. “Didn’t want to do this on my own ship, but we may not have any choice.”

Kim barely heard her over the cacophony of the battle.

A thunderous boom rose over the noise, and the deck shuddered. Two of the armored men flew backward as something exploded right in front of them.

“Looks like Qin got her gun,” Bonita said calmly. “Good.”

She’d been prepared to throw the grenade, but she pocketed it again and aimed her rifle at the two Qin had hit. They’d struck the hull and crumpled to the deck, their armor sooty and cracked. One dropped to all fours, shaking his helmet. Bonita targeted the seam between his arm and torso pieces—it had broken open slightly. Her bolts found the spot, and a blood-curdling scream escaped his lips.

He dropped his rifle and sprinted up the slanted hatch, sprang from it, and disappeared outside.

“Try to capture one if you can.” Kim had to yell so Bonita would hear her.

Bonita glanced at her. “I’m just trying to stay alive, kid.”

She opened fire on the second man who had been caught in the explosion, seeking another weakness in his armor. Kim lifted her rifle to help, but drew back to poke Casmir in the back instead. He jumped but fortunately didn’t swing the rifle in her direction.

“Try to get Zee to capture one of them,” she said. “These have to be the terrorists hunting you down.”

“I gathered that,” Casmir said over his shoulder. “I’ll try.”

Right, who else would have crushers and be after him?

Kim eased out again and almost lost her ear as an orange energy bolt slammed into the bulkhead. One of the men was firing back at Bonita now, Bonita and anyone standing next to her.

“Stay back,” Bonita barked, then leaned out and returned fire. She only shot twice before ducking back again. Two more bolts slammed into the bulkhead where her head had been.

Kim feared she would only be in the way if she jockeyed for position there. She felt useless but didn’t know what she could do to help. Jump up on the crates and fire from above? Her father had often mentioned how advantageous high ground was in a fight, but that presumed everyone was barefoot and in a gi in the dojo, not that one’s enemies all wore combat armor or were nearly indestructible robots.

A man shouted in pain and frustration—was that Asger?

“Look out!” Qin yelled.

Kim couldn’t see either of them.

Before she could think better of it, she tossed her rifle atop the crates, then leaped, caught the lip, and pulled herself up. She grabbed the weapon again and belly-crawled across, careful to keep her head very low. She found a spot where she could peer over the edge and see everything happening below.

Zee and the robots had all except one of the crushers busy in the corridor. The remaining crusher battled with six armored men against Qin and Asger. Asger’s helmet was up, and he was fully armored now, but poor Qin still wore only her clothing. And was surrounded by three men. Asger kept trying to block them from getting to her, but he was dealing with two of his own and the crusher. The last armored man was trying to get to Bonita, shooting every time she stuck her head out to fire.

One of Casmir’s robots appeared to have been helping, but it lay on the deck now, one of its legs half ripped off. Other pieces of robots were scattered among the combatants.

In the close quarters, Qin used the Brockinger more often like a club than a projectile launcher. An effective club—she connected with a man’s helmet and knocked him ten feet—but she surely would have preferred to fire more explosives.

One of her shells lay on the ground behind two of the men who still faced her. She must have been trying to load her gun when someone knocked it out of her hand.

Kim eased her rifle over the edge of the crate and targeted the shell. She waited, trying to time it so it would blow up and damage the men’s armor without hurting Qin.

Qin must have seen her, for she sprang backward, doing a backflip in the air before landing several meters away. The men started after her. Kim fired.

From the awkward position, she almost missed the little shell. But she clipped the end, and that was enough. It blew up, yellow fire and black smoke filling the cargo hold. Men shouted, some in surprise, some in agony.

Zee startled Kim by running through the mess, another crusher slung over his shoulder, the thing’s neck twisted and its head hanging off to one side. Zee ran to the broken hatch and hurled his foe halfway across the pavement. Kim didn’t see where the crusher landed, but it was well out of her sight.

“Retreat!” someone cried, and one of the armored men who had been caught in the explosion limped toward the hatch. “There are too many robots!”

“Not just robots,” Kim whispered.

She fired at his soot-covered back, hoping to find a weakness in the armor. If they didn’t capture one of these people, they would never find out how to keep them from hunting down Casmir. Yes, Asger had given Casmir a name of a terrorist organization, but it wasn’t as if that came with an address and directions to their hideout.

The man sprang from the hatch without slowing down. She cursed as her energy bolts struck his armor but did nothing. Three more men raced after him. She groaned. They were getting away.

Zee had run back into the corridor to battle the other crushers.

“Casmir!” Kim called. “Get him to—”

“Zee!” Casmir yelled from atop the crates behind her. “Stop one of those men, please!”

Kim couldn’t believe he added that please. Maybe the ticket-taking robots did give him a discount on train fare.

The biggest of the crushers charged into view again—Zee. The last armored man glanced back as he sprinted for the hatch. He was fast, but Zee was faster. He caught the man around the waist as he jumped, and yanked him back inside.

“Good work, Zee!” Casmir cheered, scrambling to the edge of the crate beside Kim and dropping to his belly.

Sounds of fighting still came from the corridor, so Kim assumed the other crushers continued to be a problem.

“How’d you get up here?” Kim asked.

“I jumped, the same as you. I’m not that helpless, you know.”

“I apologize. I just assumed from the vomitus towel tucked into the neck of your shirt that you might be in a weakened state.”

Casmir grimaced and touched the towel. “I am, but that should be a testament to my prowess. I pulled myself up here even in a weakened state.”

“You’re a true action hero.”

Zee strode toward Casmir, his captured man shouting and flailing. He kept clunking the crusher in the head with armored knees and elbows, blows that would have felled a person, but Zee was impervious.

Four of the battle-bots ran out of the corridor, a warped crusher strung between them. This one’s head and one limb were half-liquefied, and it was trying to re-form itself as they ran, but they reached the hatch and hurled it outside. Three more robots dragged another one out and threw it after the first.

“Gotta get that hatch shut,” Casmir said and slithered off the crate.

“Hold fire!” Kim shouted, envisioning some stray bolt striking him.

But Qin and Bonita had already stopped shooting. Asger ran to the hatch with his pertundo shaft mostly retracted—he held the halberd over his shoulder like an axe, ready to attack any crusher that tried to get back in. The armored men outside had dispersed, but two of the crushers had already recovered. They ran back toward the hatch as Casmir clambered up to reach the pneumatic arms that were stuck. He opened his satchel and yanked out tools, working almost under Asger’s feet.

One of the crushers launched itself at them. The armored man must not have shared his order to retreat with them.

Asger met the crusher with his pertundo, the blade of the halberd striking it in the chest. It only bit in a half an inch, but white arcs of lightning surged all around his attacker. For an instant, the crusher froze, as if shorted out. Asger spun and slammed a side kick into its waist. The crusher flew backward, slamming into another one that was trying to get in.

Qin leaped past Casmir and fired her anti-tank weapon at both of them. The shell struck one in the face, and the explosion knocked them apart, their torsos warping and deforming.

Kim dropped off the crate and ran past Zee, who still held the squirming man. Before she reached the hatch, Casmir shouted a triumphant “Hah!” and rolled back down to the deck. He jumped up and slapped the control panel.

Qin and Asger backed inside as the hatch finally closed.

“Take us to another air harbor,” Asger barked at Bonita.

Bonita scowled at him. “Please.”

“Please take us to another harbor before those crushers get sent back and we have to deal with them again,” Asger said.

“What harbor? Where aren’t we going to get ambushed?” Bonita looked at Casmir instead of Asger.

Casmir’s shoulders slumped. He had to know the crushers had come for him. Again.

“Drachen Landing,” Asger said.

“Isn’t that right by the castle?” Kim asked. “And used exclusively by knights, nobles, and royalty?”

“Yes,” Asger said. “No terrorists will ambush us there.”

Right, just knights, nobles, and royalty…

“Got it.” Bonita ran toward navigation.

“How did they know to ambush us here?” Casmir asked.

“I don’t know,” Asger said grimly.

“Well, thank you for fighting them. All of you.” Casmir looked at each of them, his eyes full of sincerity. They widened when his gaze landed on Qin. Blood ran down the side of her face and from a cut in her side that had left her shirt and her flesh torn open. “Damn them, I’m sorry, Qin.”

“It’s all right.” Qin shrugged easily. “I heal fast. And it’ll teach me never to walk about on Odin without armor again.” Her expression held a sad wistful tinge that didn’t seem to have anything to do with the battle. “This place isn’t safe for people like me.”

“No, no,” Casmir said. “There are safe places. Once we deal with these jerks who are trying to kill me—if it helps, Qin, they probably don’t have anything against you.”

Judging by Qin’s lopsided smile, it didn’t help.

“I’ll take you somewhere safe as soon as I’ve convinced them to stop attacking us.” Casmir gripped Qin’s forearm. “To my parents’ apartment for Sabbath dinner. My mother would love you. All of you. She’s a physical therapist, so she can help with any lingering injuries from battles.” He smiled cheerfully at Qin and Asger, nodding to include Kim. “And my father is an excellent cook. He makes a mouthwatering brisket. And blazing matzo ball soup. You’d like that, Asger. Matzo balls are high carb. Good for your macros.” Casmir used his other hand to clasp Asger’s forearm. “You’ll come, right?”

Kim watched this exchange in bemusement, wondering if he was trying to set them up on a date—of a sort—or if he was merely trying to show appreciation for their assistance. She couldn’t imagine Asger ever doing more than fighting beside Qin. Kim was a little surprised he could even manage that since he ignored her the rest of the time.

“Uh,” Asger said, eyeing both Casmir and Qin warily.

Qin’s expression was more wistful than wary as she looked at Casmir. “I’ve never had a mother. Or a father.”

“Oh, they’re highly recommended.” Casmir patted her arm. “I’ll be happy to share mine.”

Qin looked uncertainly toward Kim. Wondering if his parents would let her in their apartment without calling her a freak?

Kim nodded in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. She would remind Casmir to warn them first, but the Dabrowskis were warm, open-minded, and largely unflappable. They had to be to have survived someone building robots out of their kitchen appliances.

“We’ll see,” Asger said. “After Casmir has his appointment with the queen.”

“Oh,” Casmir said brightly. “Did you arrange something?”

Asger nodded, though he looked down at the hand on his forearm and didn’t meet Casmir’s eyes. “Right before this started, I did.”

“That’s a relief.”

Kim wished she could say it was a relief that she was going to meet the head of Royal Intelligence. She didn’t want to meet that person, and she wouldn’t have wanted to meet the queen either. If she had her choice, she would get a huge steaming latte with extra shots of espresso, and go to the lab to check in and see what work she was behind on.

“Yes. But we better deal with that first.” Asger withdrew his arm from Casmir’s grip and pointed to where Zee stood like a statue, his captive still slung over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, the man had stopped struggling. He hung limp and still, the face of his helmet against Zee’s torso.

“I don’t know how to interrogate anyone,” Casmir said uncertainly.

“I’ll handle it.” Asger pulled the man off Zee’s shoulder and tried to stand him up.

But the man collapsed. Frowning, Asger laid him on his back on the deck. The man didn’t move.

“What happened to him?” Asger looked at Zee.

“I merely constrained him,” Zee said. “I did not apply enough force to damage him.”

“There’s nothing wrong with his armor.” Casmir pointed. “He definitely wasn’t crushed. Zee, can you get his helmet off?”

Zee bent, gripped the helmet, and twisted it with a thunderous snap. He pulled it off, revealing the closed eyes of a pale-skinned man of about thirty who had the pallor of someone who rarely saw the sun. He had a beard and hair longer than typical for Kingdom soldiers. He didn’t react to the removal of his helmet—he didn’t move at all.

Kim shook her head, having a feeling they weren’t going to be able to question him. “Is he dead?”

“Dead?” Casmir stared at the man in confusion as Zee dropped the helmet.

It clunked on the deck near the man’s ear, but again, there was no reaction.

Asger dropped and checked for a pulse. “Dead. I don’t know what from.” He looked at the man’s armored form. “Did he poison himself? Have his armor inject something?”

“Why would he do that?” Casmir asked.

“To keep from being questioned.” Asger rose to his feet.

“We wouldn’t have tortured him.” Casmir pushed a hand through his hair, his eyes distressed. “Why would he feel he needed to do that? I just want to know why they’re trying to kill me. I wouldn’t have…”

“He may have feared his superiors would have tortured him,” Asger said, making his voice gentler than Kim had heard. “Or he may simply have believed in his cause to an extent that he didn’t want to betray his brethren.” He rested a hand on Casmir’s shoulder. “It isn’t your fault.”

As the deck vibrated, the Dragon taking off, Casmir stuck his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “Isn’t it?”

3

The second time the Dragon landed, the pavement outside was nearly empty of ships, and a squad of soldiers in blue and gold uniforms waited outside. Asger was the one to open the cargo hatch that Casmir had fixed earlier.

Casmir still felt numb from that battle, the dead man’s face burned into his thoughts. Why had he killed himself? All Casmir had wanted was to ask why his people were trying to kill him. He wouldn’t have ordered Zee to capture the man if he’d known he had orders to commit suicide.

Casmir pushed a hand through his hair, wondering if he should have brushed it during the quick flight to this backup air harbor. After all, he hoped to see the queen. But would that truly happen?

He looked over at Asger, glad the knight had fought on his behalf—twice now—but still not certain he could trust Asger to do more than hand him over to those soldiers. Or to Guards or knights waiting inside Drachen Castle.

“Let’s go before something else happens.” Asger strode down the cargo ramp.

“Casmir Dabrowski,” Zee said from behind. “Do you still wish me to stay with Kim Sato and protect her?”

Kim stood in the middle of the cargo hold with Bonita, waiting for her turn to leave. She would probably try to slip off to her appointment while the soldiers were busy searching the ship. Casmir, not certain he would be allowed to return to the Dragon, had grabbed his tool satchel and meager belongings. He was out of tooth gel. Maybe the queen would have some he could borrow.

“Yes,” Casmir said. “Now more than ever.”

Kim looked gravely at him. “Don’t get yourself thrown in a dungeon.”

“I believe Ishii suggested it would be an oubliette. Those come with windows on the top, don’t they?”

“Trapdoors or hatches in a high ceiling that are usually never opened again. Trust me, there are no windows.”

“Ah, I forgot you’re well versed in such things. Did you throw your characters into oubliettes in your allegorical fantasy novels?”

“How else would they contemplate their life’s failings?” Her eyes narrowed.

Casmir had a feeling the sentiment was more for him than her fictional characters. “As a typical male, I contemplate such things in the lavatory.”

“There’s nothing typical about you, Casmir. Be safe. Don’t irk anyone powerful.”

“I’ll attempt to follow your excellent advice.” Casmir bowed to her, then turned to follow Asger.

He was waiting at the bottom of the ramp. The soldiers hadn’t swarmed forward to arrest him. But they wouldn’t. He was a trusted knight. Casmir was the one who needed to watch for swarms.

“Good,” Kim said, her voice trailing him. “I think Qin will be disappointed if she doesn’t get that brisket at your parents’ place.”

“We all will be. Even Asger, though he doesn’t believe that yet. My father’s brisket melts in your mouth.”

Asger glanced back but didn’t comment on the conversation. He only pointed at his side in a hurry-up manner.

“Coming,” Casmir murmured.

He lifted his chin and set his shoulders as he fell into step beside the much longer-legged Asger. As they headed for the exit, he waited expectantly for the soldiers to impede them. But they merely watched until Casmir and Asger had passed. Eight of the soldiers remained in place—one pointed at the freighter and murmured a few orders. Right, they meant to search it. Four other soldiers fell in behind Asger and Casmir. Another escort.

Casmir wondered if it was ill-timed or precisely timed that their last escort, the four fighter ships, had disappeared before the terrorists showed up. Had that been planned? Was one of the two knights who’d spoken to Asger sharing information with those people? The Black Stars group? It seemed that had to be the case, unless some disloyal servant had listened in on the conversation. Otherwise, how would the terrorists have known where the Dragon would land?

The royal air harbor was walled, with security robots patrolling the tops and human guards stationed in towers at the corners. Asger led Casmir to protected stairs that took them up to a covered bridge over a busy street, Glasnax walls providing views of the massive castle and two smaller buildings to either side, both built from the ancient stone that had been favored in the early centuries after founding, before the colonists had regained large-scale smelting abilities. Modern additions were subtly interwoven into the old structures. All three buildings—one was the Royal Intelligence Headquarters that Kim would be visiting—overlooked the ocean from a bluff more than two hundred feet above sea level.

Human and android guards were stationed at the exit from the covered bridge and along an elevated walkway that led to the castle. Drones with cameras and weapons patrolled the area from the air. Casmir licked his lips as a couple of them zipped down toward him. For a better look? To scan his face and determine if he should be shot on sight?

It chilled him to realize someone in a security office could push a button and make that happen. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him when crushers had already tried that day to annihilate him, but simply being here on these grounds made him uneasy. He was surprised that Asger hadn’t been asked yet to explain his guest. Was it because Casmir was expected? Or because knights were so trusted that they could come and go with whomever they wished in tow?

As Casmir followed him down the stairs into a walled courtyard and toward the grand double doors at the front of the castle, a shuttle roared in from the sea and headed for a private landing pad to one side of the courtyard.

Asger’s step slowed as he watched its approach. The purple hull made Casmir wonder if another knight approached. Several men rushed out of a side door and along a walkway toward the landing pad. They wore black-and-white uniforms. Butlers or some other staff?

“Let’s go see if that’s who I think it is.” Asger veered off the front walkway and across the manicured grass.

“Uh, all right.” Casmir jogged to keep up with him while throwing glances toward the towers and drones, afraid someone—or something—would open fire at this presumptuousness. Walking across the castle lawn. Was that permitted? Even by a knight? “Just to be clear, the only reason I’m not being shot right now is because I’m with you, right?”

“That’s right.” Asger smiled over his shoulder, his face suddenly more alive than it had been in days. “You owe me.”

“How would you like that debt repaid?”

“You could buy one of my calendars.” Asger hopped over a flower bed and found a path made from tumbled blue and green agates. “I get fifteen percent of sales.”

Casmir hurried onto the path, still worried about being caught on the grass. “Are those the calendars that women like? Where you show off your biceps?”

“Biceps, pectorals, abdominals, other things.” Asger quickened his pace. The hatch in the side of the shuttle had opened.

“Other things?” Casmir tripped, flailed, and caught himself. “Like what? You’re not naked in the photos, are you?”

“Not scandalously so. Any potentially salacious body parts were artfully covered by stone pillars, plants, mailboxes and the like.”

“Mailboxes? Asger, can’t I just give you twenty crowns? I don’t want to see your biceps, pectorals, or other things. I…”

He trailed off because a woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties had stepped out onto the shuttle ramp, her arms full with a square wood box, and she looked curiously in Casmir’s direction. Or more likely in Asger’s direction. If Ishii’s female nurse qualified as a statistically significant sample size, most women would look at him whenever they stood together.

Staff in the black-and-white uniforms streamed past the woman and into the shuttle, murmuring greetings and bowing low to her as they passed. When they came out, they carried all manner of covered flowerpots, bags of dirt, and containers labeled samples or seeds. One of the staff almost bumped into the woman, apparently not expecting her to remain in one spot on the ramp. The man apologized profusely, bowing three times as he maneuvered around her. The woman didn’t seem to notice. She was staring at Casmir and Asger.

Even though Casmir had seen her face in newspapers and videos more times than he could count, it took him a few seconds to identify her as Princess Oku. He’d always dismissed her, perhaps because the journalists were so quick to do so, as merely decorative and without any real use to her father and the Kingdom government. That might be true, but she was beautiful, with elegant facial features, piercing brown eyes, and flawless bronze skin that seemed to glow with inner warmth. For all the media coverage, her thick black hair was arranged in a sophisticated bun or twist swept back or above her head, but today, she wore it in a simple ponytail.

With gloves on her hands, she was clearly working—unloading the shuttle, at least—so Casmir slowed down. He wished he could also slow Asger down. He didn’t think they should bother her.

“Your Highness, Princess Oku,” Asger greeted, dropping to one knee and bowing over it. “It’s been far too long since we spoke. You look lovely today.”

It took Casmir a moment to realize that his sturdy and stalwart knight might be enamored with the princess. Asger’s words about how the media portrayed her incorrectly and that she was smart leaped to mind. No wonder he’d said those things. He had a crush on her.

“Thank you, Sir Asger,” Oku said, her voice distracted. She was staring… not at the handsome knight bent over his knee at the bottom of her ramp but at Casmir.

What was he supposed to do? He’d never been in the presence of royalty, and she kept looking at him. Why? Because he was behaving improperly? Because he’d presumed to walk on the grass? Was he supposed to drop to one knee like Asger had? Or would a simple bow suffice? He wasn’t sure he could manage the knee without falling over. He still felt a little dizzy and nauseated from the return to gravity. And to think, he’d only been worried about puking in front of the queen.

“Uhm, greetings, Your Highness, Princess,” Casmir said, truncating his attempt to copy Asger, because he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to use her first name.

He reached the landing pad and bowed deeply, briefly dipping his knee and grimacing when his balance threatened to betray him. He swept his arm out, as if he wore a cloak, though it was only to help keep his balance. Asger was still down on one knee with his head bowed. Was he waiting for her to touch his head or some such thing so he could rise? Was Casmir supposed to do that?

“Sorry to bother you,” Casmir said, realizing that she was still staring at him—she seemed puzzled by his appearance, almost as if she recognized him, but how could that be?—and that all of the staff had stopped to stare at him too. Two burly men that had to be bodyguards were glowering down from the hatchway. “We just noticed that you were carrying a bunch of, uhm, pots.” He waved to her box. It wasn’t a pot, but he didn’t know what it was. “And wanted to make sure you didn’t need any help. Sir Asger is quite strong and could likely unload your entire shuttle by himself. He has prodigious muscles, you see.”

Head still bowed, Asger shot him a look that didn’t suggest he was thankful for this intervention.

“Yes, I’ve seen his calendar,” Oku said dryly.

She sounded amused—or maybe bemused? Casmir couldn’t tell, but he thought either reaction was superior to irritation.

“You have?” Asger rose gracefully, his chest puffed out. “You don’t have a copy, do you? Because if you do and you want, I would be happy to sign it for you.”

“I got a copy as a gift for my grandmother, actually.” She tore her gaze from Casmir and smiled faintly at Asger. “She likes to ogle young knights, and she thought you were particularly ogle-worthy.”

“I… Your grandmother did?” Asger’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t seem to know if he should consider that a compliment or not.

Casmir had no idea. All he knew was that someone should offer to carry that box for the princess. It looked heavy and awkward. It also occurred to him that it wouldn’t be a bad idea if someone in the royal family thought favorably of him. Given that the king likely wanted him flayed because of his presumptuousness over the gate, and that the queen… Well, Casmir doubted Asger had truly succeeded in setting up an appointment. Asger had gone from I-left-a-message to oh-yes-you-have-an-appointment in a short period of time. He wondered if the queen was even in the city. Or on the planet. She was known to do humanitarian and diplomatic work throughout the Kingdom and even in some other systems.

“Yes,” Oku said. “I’m certain she would be delighted if you signed it.”

One of the servants murmured something to her, hands spreading, as if to take her box. She shook her head firmly and descended the ramp.

Casmir came to a stop at Asger’s side, wondering if he should ask her about her load and her hobby. Or was it more than that? The media implied she cavorted around the systems on the government’s crowns, collecting unique flowers for her garden.

“I apologize for staring,” Oku told Casmir. “You just remind me so much of someone I used to know, but he passed away more than ten years ago, so—” Her eyebrows rose in enlightenment. “Oh, you must be the roboticist. Right?”

She knew who he was?

He’d assumed the queen was the only one who might have a clue, but could the princess also know his secrets? The secrets he didn’t know? And who did he look like that she knew? Rache was the only person it could possibly be, unless there were more of them out there. That was a terrifying thought. But why would she think Rache was dead? And in what capacity had she known him? Did she know what he was now?

Asger poked Casmir in the side.

“Sorry,” Casmir blurted. “I’m sorry.” She’d asked something, hadn’t she? “Yes. The answer is yes.”

“Are you sure?” She smiled.

It was a lovely smile, one that immediately had him feeling guilty for believing the media that she was dull and overly obsessed with galactic flowers. Even if that was possibly all true, he shouldn’t have judged her for it. What right did he have to judge anyone?

“Reasonably sure, yes. I research and construct robots. I mean, I did. I’m not sure about the state of my employment currently.” He pointed at her box. “Can I carry that for you? Or can Asger? Or can I get out of the way so you can deliver it to the garden shed or…” He looked around the castle grounds, wondering if something as prosaic as a garden shed existed among the exquisite gardens and lawns.

“No, thank you. And they’re bees.”

“Bees?” Casmir stepped back.

“They’ve been smoked. They’re fine. And they’re going to my laboratory for study.”

“Smoked,” Casmir mouthed before his memory kicked in with science trivia from his youth. “Oh, right. To mask their sense of smell and prevent them from transmitting the intruder alarm signal.”

Oku blinked. “Yes.”

“What are you studying about them?” Casmir asked before he noticed Asger frowning at him.

Maybe it was cheeky to ask the princess questions. Or maybe Asger simply wanted to be the one doing the asking. Casmir stepped back and tilted his head, inviting him to take over. It wasn’t as if he was going to ask Princess Oku on a date. He did dearly hope she would give him some more hints about himself, about how and why she knew who he was, however vaguely.

“These bees came from the Shango Habitat. They’re all that are left of the four hives we sent to assist in pollinating the almond orchard the farmers planted in the big greenhouses there. Bees are required for pollinating almond trees, and assist greatly in melons, broccoli, cranberries, and cherries. Gyzomi and makka too. Even though those crops are indigenous to Odin and have native insect pollinators that existed before humans arrived, bees have proven to be twice as effective, and since the makka grain is a staple on Shango Habitat…” She hitched a shoulder. “It’s difficult for them to maintain their independence without a way to grow it in space.”

“Shango Habitat isn’t in the Kingdom,” Asger said, his forehead scrunching.

“No, it isn’t.” Oku gave him a sad look.

“Couldn’t the flowers be pollinated manually?” Casmir asked. “Or even mechanically? I was in the middle of building a robot bird with realistic flight when my life was turned upside down. I imagine robot insects would also be possible. I don’t have the prototype of my bird anymore, unfortunately—a loathsome guard on Forseti Station smashed it under his boot—but I still have the schematics.” He waved to the chip at his temple. “I could show them to you if you’re interested. And come up with a proposal for creating smaller insect versions.” He smiled, excited at the idea of the project, even if he had a lot of other things to worry about. Or maybe because he had so many other things to worry about. His mind could use a distraction.

But Oku frowned at him. “Robot bees?”

“Yes. I would have to do some research to see if it would be possible to give them the ability to turn nectar into honey, but they could certainly carry pollen from the, uh, stamens—is that the right term?—to the stigma?” Damn, it had been too many years since he’d taken biology; he hoped he wasn’t mangling the plant parts. “Whatever is necessary to help with pollination of fruit trees and vegetables.”

“Robot bees sound like they would lack a certain… aesthetic.”

Now, Casmir was the one to scrunch up his forehead. “In the case of providing food for a habitat, shouldn’t function matter more than aesthetics?”

“People who live their whole lives on habitats have so little interaction with nature, such as we take for granted down here. I would prefer to come up with a solution that creates greater biodiversity in space, not less.”

“Oh.” Casmir scratched his jaw, now wishing he’d shaved—and gotten his hair cut—before coming to the castle. “What if the robot bees could be made to look and sound like real bees?”

She gave him a pitying smile. Casmir well recognized it as such because he’d received a lot of them from women over the years.

“Forgive me, but my arms are getting tired, and the girls are restless.” Oku tapped her chin against the box—the beehive. “It was nice to see you, Asger, and to meet you, ah…”

Hadn’t he introduced himself? He’d been so busy trying not to throw up or tip over that he couldn’t remember.

“Casmir,” he supplied. “Casmir Dabrowski. Uhm, who did you say I reminded you of?”

She opened her mouth but lost her grip and fumbled the beehive. Casmir and Asger lunged forward to help, bumping their shoulders together, but she recovered it on her own.

“I have it. Thank you. Please enjoy your stay in the castle.”

She hurried down a path toward a large stone building adjacent to a greenhouse, with the servants and bodyguards—they glowered suspiciously at Casmir on their way past—trailing after her. One man hurried to open the door for her. Before stepping inside, Oku glanced back at Casmir and Asger, her lips pursed in something that was either displeasure or puzzlement. She turned away and hurried inside.

“She’s in the royal seats, buddy,” Asger said.

“What?” Casmir found Asger studying him.

“She’s in the royal seats, and you’d be lucky to get a job mopping the arena floor.” Asger patted him on the shoulder, but there was a tension in the set of his eyes. “You’d better stick to girls who aren’t from the nobility.”

“Oh.” Casmir grasped his point. “I wasn’t flirting with her.”

“No? I thought that might be how roboticists did it. By offering to build bees for girls.”

“My mother has told me that gift-giving is appropriate, assuming it’s something the woman wants, but no, I was just hoping she’d tell me who I reminded her of and how she knew my profession.”

Asger shrugged and pointed toward a door near the back of the castle. “The queen knows. They’re close.”

“You think they’ve talked about me?” A few weeks ago, Casmir wouldn’t have believed anyone in the castle knew who he was or cared. He still found the notion bewildering.

“It does seem unlikely, but terrorists want you dead, remember.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

“You’re important to someone.”

Asger headed down the pathway toward the door, keeping his hand on Casmir’s shoulder to guide him. Or to make sure he didn’t escape? As if he were some wall-climbing squirrel.

“Maybe the queen will be able to enlighten me on that matter,” Casmir said, walking alongside him. The sun warmed his cheeks, and he could hear the roar of the surf as waves crashed against the bluff far below. “When did you say my appointment with her was?”

“Soon.”

Asger stopped in front of a carved wood door with no hint of automation. Before he reached for the latch, it opened. Uniformed men ran out, rifles pointing at Casmir from all directions as they encircled him.

Two knights—the man and woman who’d spoken on the comm with Asger—strode out and stopped in front of Casmir.

Asger didn’t react to the ruckus. He looked like he’d expected it.

“Sir Asger,” the woman said, “you’re late.”

Asger’s eyes closed to slits. “We were attacked by terrorists with crushers at the landing coordinates you gave me.”

The woman’s eyebrows flew up, and she glanced at her male comrade. He shrugged in return. Casmir couldn’t tell if his indifference was because he didn’t care much what befell Asger—and Casmir—or because he’d had some prior knowledge and hadn’t been surprised.

“They grow too bold,” the woman whispered, scowling at the ground. “The king won’t be pleased by another terrorist attack in our very city.”

“No, he won’t,” the male knight said. “Lieutenant, take this man to the dungeon.” He pointed at Casmir. “Remove anything he could use as a weapon, and secure him in a cell until Van Dijk’s officers arrive to interrogate him.”

Casmir slowly spread his arms, opening his palms to show he had nothing dangerous. Someone behind him removed his tool satchel, but the strip search would probably wait until he wasn’t out in the open in the castle courtyard. Or so he hoped, just in case Princess Oku walked out of her greenhouse. His skin was extra pasty after weeks in space, and he had a sense that a princess shouldn’t be subjected to such a sight.

“Asger, Baron Farley wants your briefing,” the male knight said.

“Understood. I’ll head up to his office.”

One of the uniformed men pulled Casmir’s arms behind his back and secured flex-cuffs around his wrists. “Get moving, criminal.”

Another man prodded him in the back with his rifle. The knights stepped aside so Casmir could head into the castle.

“Perhaps you could take me straight to see the queen,” Casmir said, “and we could forgo the dungeon today.”

“The queen, right. She’s going to want to see a criminal.”

“The king?” Casmir asked.

He doubted the king would treat him favorably, but he had been hoping for a chance to talk to the man, to gauge him as a person rather than as the royal entity filtered through the media. Who could know the mind of someone only heard here and there in public speeches and addresses to the Senate? Casmir wanted to figure out if Jager could be trusted to do the right thing with the gate and would be willing to let scientists, engineers, and archaeologists like Kim’s mother research it. Scientists and engineers from all of the systems, not just the Kingdom.

“Maybe he’ll show up for your execution.” Another prod.

“Nobody actually gets executed in the Kingdom, do they?” Casmir asked. “The only capital punishment that’s still on the books is for treason.”

“That’s right, criminal.”

Casmir opened his mouth to say that he hadn’t betrayed the Kingdom in any way, but was that true? Was it possible others would see his choices as treasonous? A good lawyer ought to be able to argue otherwise, but… would he be permitted a lawyer? Or would being arrested directly by the crown result in some strange bypassing of the judicial system and abeyance of his liberties?

Casmir glanced over his shoulder as he walked into the cool castle interior and caught Asger looking glumly at him. Asger’s gaze shifted away at the eye contact. Well, at least he felt bad about this.

A message came in through Casmir’s chip. It was Asger.

I apologize for lying to you, Casmir. It’s not what I would have preferred, but you’ve proven yourself capable of worming your way out of trouble, and I thought you might do that again if you were warned. The king wants the gate, and we—the knights—have been tasked with getting it for him. I’ve already jeopardized my career once by helping you. I can’t do that again. I need to be a good, obedient knight for a while.

It’s all right, Casmir replied as the soldiers led him down a set of stone stairs that appeared to have been carved from the bluff itself. When I opted to return to Odin, I knew this might end up happening. I forgive you.

You do? It would feel more right if you felt betrayed and raged about what an ass I am.

Then I definitely forgive you. I’ll forgive you even more if you keep an eye out for Laser and the Stellar Dragon. Casmir kept himself from mentioning Qin, though he worried about her most of all. She lacked Bonita’s experience, and she might be attacked on sight here simply for being different. Unless I miss my guess, Bonita will try to sell the patent I gave her, and if someone is watching the ship, she could be in danger.

They should be fine in the royal air harbor, but I’ll check in on her.

Thank you. Since she was basically forced into coming because she was helping me out, I feel responsible for her safety.

When a response didn’t come immediately, Casmir assumed the conversation was over, but a minute later, Asger added, If you find it encouraging, the queen did say she would speak with you. But you need to survive for three days. She’s at a meeting on the other side of the planet and won’t be back until then.

Survive? Was everyone sure he was going to be killed for treason? That was disturbing.

I’ll do my best, Casmir tried to reply, but the message didn’t go out. Signal lost, his chip informed him.

As they descended deeper, he feared it would stay lost. Castle security surely didn’t want its prisoners speaking with the outside world, so signals were likely muted.

He tried not to panic or think about what his interrogation would involve. He hoped someone told the medical staff about his drug allergies.

4

Qin could smell trees, grass, dirt, and countless flowers she’d never encountered before. She stood inside the cargo hold but leaned against the open hatch, nostrils twitching as she examined the world around the parked freighter with more than her eyes. Her view was limited, blocked by walls and other ships that had landed since they arrived, but her keen sense of smell told her about the ocean and a nearby park, even about small creatures scampering through the trees there. She wasn’t hungry, but some instinct deep inside her blood made her think that it would be appealing to climb those trees and hunt those creatures.

“Here they come,” Bonita muttered.

She leaned against the jamb on the other side of the wide cargo hatchway, her arms folded, her hand close to the hilt of her DEW-Tek pistol. It was the only weapon she carried, and she wore it openly. Neither she nor Qin wore galaxy suits or armor. The only weapons Qin carried were her fangs and claws; it wasn’t as if she could leave those in her cabin to show her peaceful intent.

Eight uniformed men and women strode toward the ramp. They’d been standing in a formation on the pavement, watching the freighter for almost an hour. They hadn’t stopped Kim when she’d left, striding toward an exit as if she knew where she was going and had every right to go there. Maybe she did. She was a citizen of this planet.

Qin and Bonita were not. What rights did they have here?

“Captain Lopez,” the woman leading the squad of Kingdom Guards said as she walked up the ramp. “I’m Lieutenant Kara. You’ve agreed to have your ship searched for the bioweapon you left Forseti Station with. Will you also agree to being questioned under the influence of—” she had been glancing into the cargo hold as she spoke, and her gaze landed on Qin. “Dear God, what are you?”

Her hand dropped to a stunner on her waist, and murmurs came from the troops behind her.

“That’s Qin, my security officer,” Bonita said. “She won’t give you trouble, and neither will I. We just want to clear our names, so we can do business on your world.”

“Uh…” It was a moment before the lieutenant wrenched her gaze from Qin.

Qin tried not to let her feelings show, the hurt she experienced when people looked at her as if she wasn’t as human as they were. She’d always gotten looks wherever she went because she was tall, furred, and fanged, and that made a striking combination, but the Kingdom was the worst. Nobody here had genetic modifications, so she stood out far more than in other systems.

Lieutenant Kara cleared her throat and shifted her gaze to Bonita, though she was careful to keep Qin in her peripheral vision, as if she might spring for her neck at any moment. No, Qin would only do that if they threatened her captain.

“What business do you have here, Lopez?” Kara asked.

“I’m hoping to sell a patent to a medical equipment manufacturing company.”

Kara’s mouth dangled open. “You are a smuggler and bounty hunter, are you not?”

“I’m a bounty hunter—no smuggling going on anymore, as that was a career mistake. As of a couple of weeks ago, I now speculate in patents.”

“I see.” Kara didn’t look like she truly saw, and Bonita didn’t explain further.

Understandable. It was a long story.

“Fan out and search the ship,” Kara told her people.

They boarded, some only with their weapons, but others with heavy-duty scanners. No matter what they carried, they stared and gaped at Qin as they passed.

Freak, freak. None of them said it, but she could see the word in their eyes. The memory of Asger saying it still echoed in her mind. Somehow, it had hurt a lot coming from him. Because she’d expected a knight to be noble and chivalrous. Because of her own silly notions.

A man carrying a medical kit walked in last.

“Where shall we do the interrogation?” he asked politely.

“I get a choice?” Bonita asked. “There’s a sauna and a salt room on the middle deck. Quite cozy for interrogations, I imagine.”

“A what?”

“Sauna and salt room. Viggo’s ancestors came from System Hesperides, and the ship was originally built there. They’re into saunas.”

“Ah.” The man looked puzzled rather than enlightened.

Bonita sighed and jerked a thumb toward the ladder. “Might as well do it in the lounge.”

The lounge where she kept her blowtorch. Qin watched Bonita’s face in case she gave some silent warning with a widening of her eyes, but Bonita merely headed across the cargo hold, doing her best—Qin could tell—to hide her limp. She intended to cooperate.

Qin, worried she might be manhandled during the questioning, started after them.

“Not you, freak,” one of the remaining men said, his rifle swinging up to point at her chest.

“God, are those claws?” the one beside him said, also lifting his rifle. “What is she? Does she even understand System Trade?”

“I’m a genetically engineered warrior, and I understand you fine.” Qin lifted her chin. “I’m not a freak.” She almost said that Casmir said so, but these people probably didn’t know him. “I need to accompany my captain in case she needs help.”

“She won’t need help answering questions.”

“He’s going to drug her, right? I need to be there in case anything gets violent.”

“As long as she cooperates, nothing will get violent. It’s not like Inspector Tsukuda has claws.” The man snorted.

Qin clenched her jaw, torn between wanting to protect the captain and not wanting to make trouble. It was hard. These two were the only men near the cargo hatch—the others were busy searching the ship. They didn’t appear to have any cybernetic or genetic enhancements, and she believed she could disarm them both and lock them in the cleaning-robot closet.

But what would the ramifications be if she did? Would she cause more trouble for Bonita?

“What’s going on here?” a familiar voice asked.

Asger appeared at the base of the ramp, his gaze locked on the men’s rifles. They were pointing unerringly at Qin’s chest, not that she was worried. She would see when they started to pull the triggers and have time to react. Her reflexes had always been much faster than those of a normal human.

“The captain is being questioned in the lounge,” Qin said, hurrying to speak first. She didn’t trust that Asger wouldn’t side with these two and call her a freak, especially if they had time to explain themselves. “I wish to go in with her to make sure she isn’t threatened or harmed in any way. These two men object.” She looked at Asger, who was continuing up the ramp, and didn’t care if her expression was challenging as she added, “I was debating if I would get in trouble for disarming them and locking them in the cleaning closet.”

Both men curled their lips.

“You could try, little freak girl,” one said, a weird glint in his eyes suggesting he wished she would, that he wanted to shoot her and just needed an excuse.

Asger reached the hatchway and pressed down on the man’s rifle, then flicked a finger, telling the other man to also lower his.

“I’ve fought with her twice,” Asger said. “She’d rip your heads off before you could squeeze your triggers.”

Indignation filled their eyes. Qin didn’t know whether to be bolstered by his support, surprised by it, or offended that he truly thought she would rip people’s heads off. She’d intended to lock them in the closet with all of their body parts still attached.

“Fought with her, Sir Knight? Like… on the same side?”

Asger hesitated, and Qin suspected he was trying to figure out how to say it had been Casmir’s side, and she’d happened to be there too. Surely, he feared some taint would linger on him like radioactive isotopes if he admitted they’d gone into battle together.

But in the end, he said, “Yes,” and made a shooing motion to them. “Guard the ship from out there, will you? We were attacked earlier by terrorists. I’d like some warning if they—or their stolen and reprogrammed crushers—show up again.”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

The men trotted down the ramp, and Qin found herself without any weapons pointed at her chest. She wondered what it would be like to command that kind of respect simply by showing up in a purple cloak. Not that Asger didn’t fight well. She’d seen that for herself and assumed all knights were similarly capable. But she fought just as well. And she was a freak.

A freak who wanted to walk freely outside and go find those trees and lie on her back in the grass, inhaling the scents and feeling the sun on her skin. But that wouldn’t likely happen here.

“The captain is being interrogated?” Asger asked.

“Yes, in the lounge.” Qin, no longer detained by surly strangers, headed toward the ladder.

When Asger followed her, Qin frowned over her shoulder at him.

“Casmir asked me to make sure she was all right,” Asger explained.

“Where is Casmir? I thought you were going to see the queen together.”

“He’s in the dungeon.”

Qin lurched to a stop at the base of the ladder. “What?”

“He hid something very important from the Kingdom fleet. The king, the military, Royal Intelligence, and everyone in between want to know where it is. He’ll be interrogated.”

“You just let them throw him in the dungeon?”

“I work for Royal Intelligence and His Highness’s knights. Casmir tranquilized me after I helped him not once but twice, first with getting off Ishii’s ship and then with taking down those robots and gaining control of the cargo ship.” Asger shook his head, looking both indignant and flustered, as if he felt he was making excuses and that he’d done something wrong.

Qin sure thought he had.

“You know we wouldn’t have won that fight if he hadn’t found a way to nullify those robots. And if you helped him off that other ship, it was only because you wanted something.” Qin pointed a finger at his chest. “You wanted that gate, and you thought he could get it in a way that the military couldn’t. And you were right.”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just an engineer with no combat training. I couldn’t have known he would do anything but get us all killed.” Asger looked away from her, and she sensed his lie.

She wasn’t sure why he’d had faith in Casmir early on, but Asger had known Casmir had some unique talents that might prove helpful—and he’d bet on him. Qin wasn’t good at a lot of things when it came to people, but she’d learned long, long ago to detect when they were lying to her. Probably because it happened so often. She’d had a lot of practice.

“But he didn’t get us killed. And he kept Rache from making off with that gate. You owe him.”

“I do not owe him,” Asger snapped, his gaze jerking back to hers, his thick hair swinging about his shoulders with the movement.

Even though he’d tried to kill Qin when first they met, and even though he could never find her even vaguely appealing, she couldn’t help but notice that his hair, his face, and all of him was handsome. Very handsome. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like if she were some beautiful and fully human princess here on Odin, and she could have a man like him. Any man at all. She liked to think she’d only choose someone as kind and noble as he was handsome, but for her whole life, she hadn’t gotten to choose. She’d always been someone’s property with no freedom whatsoever.

These last few months, working for Bonita, she’d had a semblance of freedom, even if she’d agreed to follow her captain’s orders. Now, she was in danger of losing that, of being dragged back to the Druckers. Of never getting to choose anything—or anyone—for herself.

“I don’t owe him,” Asger repeated, staring past her shoulder, the words seemingly more for himself than for her. “It’s my duty as a knight to obey the king and my superiors. They wanted him for questioning, and I had to let them take him.”

Qin wrenched her attention back to the moment, to Casmir’s problem. It felt less selfish to focus on that than on her own concerns. “We should break him out before they torture him to death.”

Asger’s gaze locked back onto hers. “They’re not going to torture him. This is the modern era, and the Kingdom is not, whatever you people in other systems think, some tyrannical regime where life is treated cavalierly.”

“I’ve been elevated from freak to you people? I suppose that’s an improvement.” Qin, not sure why she was debating this with him, climbed up to the ship’s middle deck. She needed to make sure Bonita wasn’t being treated cavalierly right now and get her opinion on Casmir’s imprisonment.

Qin doubted Bonita would suggest a rescue, but maybe she would be willing to help Casmir rescue himself again. If that was possible.

Asger muttered something about difficult women under his breath and followed her up. With her keen ears, Qin would have caught it if he’d said more, but she didn’t think he had.

The hatch to the lounge was open, with two uniformed men, the man with the medical kit, and the lieutenant inside. The lieutenant stood facing Bonita, who sat at the table. Her blowtorch wasn’t anywhere in sight. Her palms lay flat on the table, and her face vacillated between tense and relaxed. Had they already given her a drug?

The lieutenant frowned at the hatchway and held up her hand.

Qin stepped inside but didn’t try to go farther. She leaned against the bulkhead. All she wanted was to make sure Bonita wasn’t hurt.

“So you thought to sell the bioweapon to Rache?” the lieutenant asked, turning back to Bonita.

“No,” Bonita said. “I was looking for a way to get rid of the thing, but not like that. I didn’t want it to be used on anyone.”

Asger stepped inside and stood against the wall beside Qin, not close enough to touch. Never close enough to touch.

As the lieutenant continued to question Bonita, a part of Qin wanted to tell Asger to go away, that he’d only been invited onto the ship when he’d been Casmir’s guest, and now that he’d abandoned Casmir to who knew what fate, he wasn’t welcome. But she grudgingly admitted that he might be useful. Especially if he’d told Casmir he would keep an eye out for Bonita. If he felt some guilt about abandoning Casmir to his colleagues, he might do even more than that. Maybe it was Qin’s imagination that she sensed that, but she didn’t think so.

“Very well, Captain,” the lieutenant said, stepping back from the table. “I’ll take this report to my superiors.”

Bonita, still under the influence of the drug, smiled blearily.

The smile was so out of place on her face that it made Qin uncomfortable. Bonita wasn’t cranky or grumpy all the time, but she always looked weary and beaten down, like life had struck her too many blows for her to ever recover fully. Qin always wished she could help ease the way, but Bonita was stubborn and independent, and even when she said she would rely more on Qin, she never did.

“Uhm, Lieutenant?” Qin said as the woman headed for the hatchway. “Are we—is she allowed to leave the ship now?” Qin pointed at Bonita, knowing she wanted to arrange that meeting.

“The ship may not leave. Not until we’ve finished our scans and analyzed the data. As for the captain…” The lieutenant pursed her lips. “Her status is undetermined at this point. She is not a Kingdom citizen, but she has committed crimes in our system. If she leaves, she will do so under surveillance.”

Qin started to object, but realized the words if she leaves did not forbid her to do so. She closed her mouth.

The lieutenant continued toward the hatchway but paused again before leaving the lounge. “Are you coming, Sir Knight? There’s no need for you to remain here.” She pursed her lips again, oozing disapproval as she glanced at Qin.

“Soon,” was all Asger said.

“Of course.” The lieutenant bowed to him and walked out.

Bonita’s eyes were focused—no, unfocused—on the ceiling. It would take a while for the drug to wear off. Until then, Qin would watch over her. She didn’t think she should presume to contact the person who might be interested in buying Casmir’s patent. She knew nothing about the situation and didn’t want to risk messing up.

Assuming Asger would leave, Qin pushed away from the bulkhead, swinging her arms and flexing her muscles, wishing for an outlet for her tension. It had been some time since she’d had a worthy opponent to spar with. More than once, she’d thought about asking Casmir if Zee would be able to do that without escalating to violence. Now, she feared she’d lost her opportunity. Zee had accompanied Kim when she left the ship. What if she never saw either of them again?

“Everything all right, Captain?” Qin rested a gentle hand on Bonita’s shoulder. She’d learned at a young age that she had to be gentle when interacting with humans—and to always make sure her claws were retracted when touching them.

“My knees never stop aching, I don’t trust the Kingdom, and the digits in my bank account are negligible.” Bonita shook her head sadly, looking through Qin rather than at her.

Bonita was usually blunt, but the honesty startled Qin, until she remembered the drug.

“I’m sorry,” Qin said quietly. “If we’re able to secure money for that patent, you should keep it for yourself—for resupplying the ship and—”

One of Viggo’s vacuums skittered into the lounge, looking more like it was fleeing a predator than navigating one of its usual cleaning circuits. It zipped up one of the walls and sucked microscopic debris off the ceiling. Maybe one of the men inspecting the ship had kicked it.

“You should just take care of yourself,” Qin finished. “I’ll worry about the bounty on my own. It’s not your responsibility to bail me out of my own problems.”

Bonita smiled blearily at her.

“Bounty?” Asger asked from the bulkhead.

Qin grimaced. She hadn’t forgotten he was there, not exactly, but she hadn’t thought he would care enough to pry.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “I’m going to make sure your people aren’t molesting Viggo’s vacuums.”

She headed for the corridor, and Asger lifted a hand, as if he might stop her, but she gave him a cool look, and he lowered it, deciding against impeding her. Qin walked out, wishing Asger were in the castle, getting Casmir out of the dungeon instead of lurking on the Dragon.

5

Yas was back in the familiar sickbay of the Fedallah and feeling much better, but he couldn’t say it was like coming home. He was a little bolstered that Rache had agreed to look into President Bakas’s assassination—and Yas being framed for the murder—but Rache wanted to find that gate first. Yas told himself he would have to be patient. In the meantime, he would be a good doctor to the mercenaries, whether they appreciated it or not, and do the job he’d promised to do. And try to help Chief Jess Khonsari.

Assuming she deigned to see him again. She had agreed to an exam, so he could get a fresh look at everything and come up with some alternatives to the powerful and addictive trylochanix she took for pain, but she was ten minutes late. When they had made the appointment, he had only mentioned making sure she was recovering fully from the pseudo radiation, but maybe she had sensed that he wanted to talk about more than that.

The sickbay door opened, and he spun toward it, his heart speeding up. He snorted at himself, admitting that maybe he wanted to see Jess again for more reasons than the purely medical.

But it was Captain Rache who strode in, followed by a gangly dark-skinned mercenary who had to duck to pass through the doorway. A cybernetic headset had been surgically attached to his skull and covered half of his face, leaving lenses in front of his eyes—or perhaps in place of his eyes. Yas hadn’t spoken often to him but recognized him and remembered skimming his record. A former cattle farmer turned astroshaman turned mercenary, Lieutenant Amergin ran security, hacked into networks far and wide, and sang a cappella with two other officers whenever there was a drunken gathering in the mess hall. Since Yas avoided those gatherings, he didn’t know if the man was good at it.

“Dr. Peshlakai,” Rache said. “Lieutenant Amergin is going to sift through the news, mainstream and not, in the various systems and help you figure out who killed your president.”

“Oh?” Yas leaned forward with new interest in the man. He hadn’t expected Rache to do anything this soon to try to solve that problem. “Thank you, Captain. And Lieutenant.”

Amergin grinned—despite the top half of his face being covered, his mouth was normal, full of white human teeth—and tipped the wide-brimmed hat he wore. It seemed out of place above the black galaxy suit that covered the rest of his body, but most of the mercenaries seemed to favor eclectic attire. “Shouldn’t be too hard. People always want to talk. You just have to know where to stick your ears to listen.”

“Wise words,” Yas murmured, noticing that one of Amergin’s ears had a gray-blue mechanical interior.

“I’m heading down to Odin,” Rache said. “To find Dabrowski and figure out where he hid the gate. Once we deal with that, if Amergin finds out where your responsible parties are, we’ll pay them a visit.”

His tone had that icy edge that it so often did, and Yas didn’t know if it was directed at Dabrowski or the people who had framed Yas. It was strange to imagine having the deadly mercenary on his side, like a trained attack dog prepared to spring for an enemy’s jugular.

“Then let me hope you find the roboticist and the gate swiftly,” Yas said before considering the implications of Rache’s words. It was unlikely Dabrowski wanted the mercenaries to know where the gate was, so Rache would have to forcibly retrieve the information from his brain.

Yas tried not to shudder. Maybe Rache was more like a rabid attack dog than a trained one, dangerous to anyone around him, anyone who irked him just a little.

“Will you go alone, Captain?” Lieutenant Amergin asked. “A lot of people on that planet want you dead. Might want to take a strike force in case things get hairy. You’ll take the blank-slate shuttle, I assume? Want me to help the chief spruce it up just for this planet? It’s still got L.S. Antiquarian Furniture Delivery on the side and for the ident marker.”

“Yes, let’s assign it to a Kingdom delivery company. But I’ll fly it down alone. Stealthily. There’s nothing to be gained from fighting Kingdom Guards and knights on their own turf.”

“No? Thought you enjoyed killing them for sport, sir.”

“Not on their home soil where I’m outnumbered five billion to one,” Rache said. “I’ve occasionally considered sneaking into the castle to assassinate Jager myself, but his eldest son is only thirty and as much of a manipulative ass as he is. If a less subtle one. I don’t know that I’d be doing anyone a favor. I’ll reconsider that if the money is ever high enough to make the risk worth it.” Rache spread a hand toward the ceiling.

Yas said nothing. He didn’t want to encourage talk of assassinations.

“What happens if King Jager is behind President Bakas’s death?” Amergin asked. “We still going to help Yas get his revenge? You said his job is pro bono, didn’t you?”

Yas raised a finger. “I’m not looking for revenge so much as to exonerate myself. I was wrongfully accused, and it’s… inconvenient.”

Rache snorted. “Yes, it often is. I don’t actually think Jager is behind that, but we’ll sail through that gate when we come to it.”

“Who else would have done it?” Yas asked. “President Bakas had just quashed a movement to make an alliance with the Kingdom. There were people on our own station full of dissent over that, but it’s hard to believe someone who lived there would, ah, drop a bomb in their own outhouse, as Corporal Chains would say.”

Yas couldn’t believe he was quoting one of the mercenaries. What had his life become?

“That’ll be for me to find out.” Lieutenant Amergin poked his thumb against his chest. “With whatever clues you can give me as a near-eyewitness, Doctor. Could be lots of people there that wanted someone lenient to the Kingdom to be put in charge, and it sounds like your vice president qualified. Times have been changing a lot lately.”

“An Old Earth poet once said, ‘Most of the change we think we see in life is due to truths being in and out of favor.’” Rache inclined his head and left sickbay.

Amergin shrugged at Yas. “I don’t know what to say when he gets philosophical.”

Yas was encouraged whenever he was reminded that Rache read books now and then. Though maybe it would have been safer for the galaxy if he’d been more of a thug and less of a thinker. Yas thought of Dabrowski and how this might end for him, then shook his head. He had his own life to think about—and helping people more directly in it.

“You said you and Chief Khonsari will be working on a shuttle later?” Yas asked casually.

“Yup, I’ll wrangle her up. I do all the programming, but she’s a whiz with the paint droids and can change up the hull in minutes.”

“Good. Thank you.”

If Jess wouldn’t come to sickbay, Yas would go to her.

* * *

Kim felt conspicuous walking down the street toward Royal Intelligence Headquarters with a looming crusher a couple of steps behind her. But after the attack, she couldn’t fault Casmir for being cautious, and she felt lucky to have a friend who wanted to keep her safe. She just wished he’d focus more of his brain power on keeping himself safe.

Even though robots, androids, and automated vehicles were common in Zamek, Zee drew more than a few curious—or were those concerned?—looks from passersby. Fortunately, Kim didn’t need to go far. She stopped at the driveway leading up to the Intelligence offices and braced herself. The headquarters building was almost as intimidating as the castle itself, with an ancient stone exterior, guard towers at the corners, and a crenellated walkway along the edge of the gray-blue metal roof.

The faintest hint of roasting coffee beans reached her nose, and she located a coffee vending kiosk down the street. She started salivating. How long since she’d had anything except those dreadful coffee bulbs with their twenty-seven ingredients, only one of which was vaguely representative of actual coffee?

“Too long,” she muttered, looking from the kiosk to the building and back to the kiosk.

It wouldn’t hurt to get a latte, would it? She was already a half hour late for her appointment, not that she had voluntarily set that or ever found the timing reasonable.

But whatever security cameras the place possessed would have already captured her. Right now, someone might be wondering why she was dilly-dallying. Maybe she could send Zee for the coffee. Like an ominous secretary. But how would the crusher pay? She didn’t have any physical currency, just the banking chip embedded in her finger.

“Casmir wouldn’t send you on some menial errand, would he?” Kim asked, heading down the street to get the coffee for herself.

“I am programmed to protect Kim Sato and Casmir Dabrowski.”

“Yes, but what about coffee retrieval?”

The crusher didn’t have eyes, but his face turned toward her, and she sensed that it didn’t quite know the appropriate answer. “My specialty is combat, but I am familiar with object acquisition, and I have been instructed to enter dangerous areas in order to rescue trapped individuals. There is no specific mention of coffee in my programming, but I am adaptable. I could retrieve what you wish, Kim Sato.”

Kim imagined the crusher leaping into the kiosk, knocking anything or anyone threatening out of the way, and snatching the entire espresso machine and running. “We’ll just go together, eh?”

The crusher walked at her side, not complaining. But as she reached the line for the kiosk, stepping into place behind several uniformed men and women who frowned at Zee, he spoke again.

“A drone approaches, Kim Sato. I believe it is watching us. It came from the Intelligence building.”

Kim spotted an aerial robot about the size of Viggo’s vacuums. It whirred in close, circled the kiosk, then hovered.

In case it was there for her, she held up a finger and pointed at the front of the line. Unless those Intelligence people sent a fleet of troops to drag her away, she wouldn’t be deterred from her mission.

“I am prepared to take the next order,” the robot cashier said, bulbous eyes and boxy body rotating toward Kim.

She ordered a large latte with extra shots and a straight drip coffee with a warming sleeve, in case she got stuck in that building for a long time.

“Is that for your robot?” a man asked when she paid and clenched the beverages close, one in each hand.

“Both are for me,” Kim said, though she preferred not to make chitchat with strangers. “I’ve been off-world. The coffee options are—”

“Say no more.” The man raised his hand. “I’ve been. And I understand.”

Kim hurried back to the office building, taking deep and satisfying swallows of the steaming latte as she went. She wasn’t surprised to find an athletic woman with short salt-and-pepper hair and a lot of shiny rank pins on her uniform jacket standing outside, tapping her foot and waiting. Chief Superintendent Van Dijk?

“Scholar Sato?” she asked, frowning as she looked at Zee.

“Yes,” Kim said, not explaining the crusher.

“You’re late.” She sounded irritated.

Kim was on the verge of describing how their ship had been attacked by armored men and crushers when they’d landed at the coordinates the authorities had provided them, but she noticed Van Dijk looking at her coffee cups.

“Is one of those for me?” she asked.

Kim caught herself before she pulled both cups tightly and protectively to her chest. Normally, she would have no problem ignoring social conventions regarding politeness, but this was a person it might be good not to irritate. She worked for the crown and likely reported directly to the king every morning. Or maybe a gift would have been appropriate to bring regardless of irritation considerations?

Casmir would smile widely and give the chief superintendent one if not both coffees, whether he wanted to curry favor or not. Kim wasn’t sure what it said about her that she considered her admittedly quirky friend as a barometer for what was socially acceptable, but he was better at that stuff than she.

“Yes,” Kim said. “Do you prefer a black coffee or a latte?”

“Black coffee.”

Kim offered the smaller cup, relieved she didn’t have to explain that she’d already consumed a third of it and left saliva on the lid.

“Thank you.” Van Dijk sounded less irritated.

Kim had made the right decision. She could buy another coffee later.

“Let’s talk in my office.” Van Dijk strode up the walkway.

Kim hurried after her, wondering if she would be asked to leave Zee outside the door. Or outside the building. There was an ancient stable that had been converted into a vehicle house, and she imagined being asked to park the crusher in a stall.

But Van Dijk said nothing about Zee as she led the way through the rambling building, the corridors and offices a mixture of ancient architecture and modern amenities, such as computer displays on the stone walls, showing updates of news stories, citizen media searches, and economic markets. In the back, they took a lift to the top floor, then walked to an office overlooking the city rather than the sea. Kim supposed the head of Royal Intelligence needed to keep an eye on the citizens rather than enjoying nature.

Van Dijk stopped in the doorway and pointed at Zee. “I assume that has recording abilities?”

“Yes.” Kim wasn’t quite sure how, given that everything in the crusher, including sensory inputs, was handled on the molecular level, but she’d seen the video Zee had recorded and transmitted from the Machu Picchu.

“If you can turn it off, he can come in, but you’re not in danger here—I’m presuming that its purpose is to protect you? If you can’t turn it off, I have to ask you to leave it outside.”

Kim considered Zee. “I’m not positive he doesn’t record everything automatically. He’s not mine.”

“Professor Dabrowski made it, right?” Van Dijk’s tone chilled again.

“Yes.” Kim saw no point in lying. With agents all over the system, and likely the eleven other systems, the superintendent probably knew almost everything that had happened to Kim and Casmir by now. “Wait outside, Zee.” Remembering that Casmir was always polite with the robot, she added, “Please.”

“Affirmative.” Zee stood beside the door in a guard position. “Yell if you are threatened, Kim Sato. I sometimes struggle to determine when humans are being threatened and when violence is desirable.”

Yes, Zee had stormed in to intercede the first time she and Asger had sparred on the Stellar Dragon.

“I will. Thank you.”

Van Dijk waved Kim to a seat and sent some wireless command to close the door.

“It would behoove you to distance yourself from Professor Dabrowski—and his creations—for the near future,” Van Dijk said.

Kim did not like the sound of that. Casmir’s appointment with the queen must not have gone well. If there had been an appointment. Asger could have been lying.

“He’s my roommate,” Kim said, judging from Van Dijk’s pause that she expected a response.

“Yes, I know. You may want to seek out a new roommate. I don’t think he’s going to be in a position to pay his rent for a while.”

Kim’s fingers tightened around the coffee cup. She knew Casmir had made a dubious choice and could expect punishment, but she’d hoped… He had a knack for wriggling his way into people’s good graces, so she’d hoped he would be able to do so again, especially since the queen seemed to care whether he lived or died.

“I see,” Kim said, certain that nothing helpful would come of her trying to defend Casmir’s choice.

If anything, it might make Van Dijk less likely to trust her. Kim didn’t know yet if she was in trouble, but she’d helped the people on the Machu Picchu. She hoped the government would look favorably on her for that. She also hoped Van Dijk didn’t know that Kim had let Rache’s people go when she could have tried harder to stop them.

Van Dijk sat at the chair behind the desk and waved at her contacts. “I’m looking at the report I recently got from Dr. Sikou on the Osprey. From what I understand of this and the other reports I’ve received, the gate is emitting a pseudo radiation, as she called it, that may be a defense mechanism. Tenebris Rache proved immune, possibly because his mitochondria were never altered as a preventive measure against the Great Plague.” She raised her eyebrows.

Kim nodded once. She wished Sikou had left that bit out but couldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t. It was possible it could be useful in coming up with an immunity for other people who might want to work with the gate.

“You were also able to adapt your existing radiation-consuming bacteria to consume this new pseudo radiation, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that someone inoculated with it before coming in contact with the gate would be immune to its attack?”

“It’s… possible, but the exposure was so high, capable of killing a person in scant days, that I fear the bacteria might finish consuming the radiation after their human host had died. In most cases.”

Van Dijk leaned back in her chair. “I was afraid of that. Do you think it would be possible to tinker with our mitochondria to make some researchers immune to the gate’s attack without also making them susceptible to the Great Plague again? I take it Captain Rache is lucky he’s never encountered that particular bacteria.”

The way Van Dijk said his name made Kim think she knew it was a fake name. Maybe she even knew his real name.

“It’s a virus,” Kim said. “Not a bacteria. And yes, he would be susceptible to it if he encountered it. Likely. He mentioned that he has immune-system enhancements acquired at a station in another system. The Great Plague originally had an eighty percent death rate. Some people survived, though they were rarely left unscathed.”

Van Dijk waved a dismissive hand at these details. “If people were willing to risk the Plague and to have their mitochondria altered back to what the original humans who settled the colonies had… could that be done?”

“I’m not sure we have the technology in System Lion. You are, after all, proposing genetic modifications that end up being hereditary.” Kim didn’t point out that such tinkering was illegal in the Kingdom, assuming that Van Dijk already knew but was far enough above the law that she didn’t have to care.

“I understand that. Could it work?”

“It’s easier to do gene editing during the embryonic period. It’s obviously possible to alter all of a person’s mitochondria, since we did it two hundred years ago, but as I said, the technology and equipment to do so won’t likely be found here.”

“We can acquire equipment from other systems if need be. Our people need to be able to study the gate, assuming we’re able to locate it again.” Van Dijk squinted at Kim. “I don’t suppose you know where it’s hidden?”

“Casmir was careful not to tell me or anyone else.”

“I bet. Would you be willing to answer that same question under the influence of eslevoamytal?”

Kim shrugged. “Yes.”

“All right.” Van Dijk sipped from the coffee.

The aroma of their combined beverages lingered in the room, almost making Kim happy to be there, breathing it in. Almost.

“What’s the most plausible way forward, Scholar Sato? In your opinion?”

“To allow people to research the gate? You could send the loaded droid Dr. Kelsey-Sato in to study it with radiation-hardened androids with engineering and gate knowledge. They should be immune to the effects and capable of doing the necessary research.”

Van Dijk grunted. “Your mother is known to have as many colleagues and contacts in other systems as she does here. She wouldn’t be the king’s first choice to lead a team. He has loyal people picked out that he already promised this to.”

Kim filed away the tidbit so she could warn her mother later that she might not be in the best standing in the Kingdom.

“We can alter people so they can work with the gate, as you suggested, and inoculate them with my bacteria for added security, but it may be more logical to figure out if the gate’s defenses can be deactivated.”

Van Dijk’s eyebrows flew up.

Had she not considered that? Kim would have thought everyone would consider that first before possibly irrevocably changing people.

“We aren’t very familiar with the technology, but perhaps a team of computer experts could study the gate over videos or by linking with an android…” Van Dijk drummed her fingers on the desk and looked out the window.

Kim debated whether she should mention the most obvious person to study the gate who might have the background necessary to figure out how to turn off its defenses. It would mean revealing that Casmir was as immune as Rache—something Kim hadn’t mentioned to Dr. Sikou—and she wasn’t sure if she should assume that Van Dijk already knew all about Rache and Casmir’s identical genes. It seemed plausible that she would, but if she didn’t, Kim would hate to put Casmir in danger—more danger—by revealing it.

“Yes,” was all Kim said. “May I return to my home and place of employment?”

Van Dijk gave her a strange look that Kim couldn’t decipher. Had she phrased her question oddly?

“Didn’t you leave because you were in danger of being targeted by those targeting Professor Dabrowski?” Van Dijk asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s still a problem, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I long to return to useful work, and Casmir lent me Zee as protection.”

“We would like for you to continue to work on the bacteria that can consume the pseudo radiation, to enhance them to break it down even more quickly, if that’s possible. We’ll put you in a secure and state-of-the-art lab.”

We would like… Did that mean Kim had a choice? Or was Van Dijk merely being polite?

“For how long?” Kim asked.

“Just until you’ve convinced our people that you’ve done all you can. Further, we may need to consult you on the gene editing, if our computer experts don’t have any ideas about disabling the gate’s defenses. You’ll be compensated for your time, of course. At the same rate of pay as you earn at your regular job.”

“Do I have a choice?” Maybe Kim shouldn’t have asked, but she wanted to know.

And she wanted to go home, damn it. Back to her books and her regular routine. She missed her work and her house and sparring with her brothers and father at the dojo.

“I can’t give you a choice, I’m afraid. I have orders straight from the king. You also can’t return home—that’s for your own protection—until we’re certain the terrorists are no longer after Dabrowski and might hit you, simply because you’re standing too close. Your unique talents are very important to the Kingdom. We’ve done our best to keep any alarming news from filtering back home, but we are on the brink of war with several of the other systems, and if they band together, we’re outgunned and outnumbered.”

“I see. Can I at least stay at my mother’s apartment? Terrorists shouldn’t think to look for me there.” Kim wasn’t sure that it mattered—it wasn’t as if her mother’s occasionally used apartment had ever been a home for her—but she had a niggling suspicion that it would be safer if she could retain a semblance of autonomy. That would be much easier if she lived somewhere separate from whatever lab they wanted her to work in. She could easily envision them assigning her a room on a military base or even in the castle.

“What’s the address?”

Kim supplied it.

“Ah, that’s actually less than a mile from the research facility we have in mind. That will do, yes, but you’ll have two bodyguards with you at all times.”

Kim’s shoulders slumped. So much for autonomy.

“As I said, we’re very serious about keeping you alive.” Van Dijk’s eyes tightened. “I trust you will cooperate and that you won’t attempt to elude them or something as silly as that. You’ll be allowed to return to your normal life once we’ve resolved this.”

And when would that be?

“Assuming you don’t do anything illegal or treasonous.” Van Dijk smiled, but her eyes remained tight.

It didn’t take a genius at body language to decipher the warning.

“I hadn’t planned to,” Kim murmured.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

What Kim understood was that she was now a prisoner in her own land.

6

Either the person who led interrogations at Drachen Castle had a busy schedule, or the information locked up in Casmir’s brain wasn’t as important as he thought. The rest of the day and a full night had passed without anyone coming to see him. He hoped that wasn’t because the person was busy interrogating his friends. Kim hadn’t committed any crimes, so she shouldn’t be in danger, unless being associated with him got her in trouble. He scowled at the thought.

His shoulder blade itched, and he shifted to scratch it, but he couldn’t reach it. After the search, the guards had shifted his cuffed wrists from behind his back to in front of his groin, but that didn’t make his life noticeably comfortable.

Now, he lay on a cold stone bench in his dark, windowless cell, the roar of the surf no longer audible. Nothing was audible except for the sound of his own breathing and occasionally the thump of his heartbeats. Those were only audible when he worked himself up into a panic about what would happen to him if the interrogator used eslevoamytal—which he now knew he was deathly allergic to—without a nurse with epinephrine and a slew of other drugs nearby.

What if the castle staff killed him, not because he was a traitor, but by accident?

Casmir wished he’d taken time to send more than a quick note to his parents before following Asger into the castle. His mother had messaged back immediately, saying he must come to dinner and tell them all about everything. She’d asked three times for a confirmation on dinner, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to give it—or explain that he wouldn’t be able to make it—before he’d entered the network’s dead zone. He almost wished he hadn’t messaged her at all, because now she would worry anew at his abrupt silence.

Casmir rubbed his face and went back to his distraction. Though he didn’t have network access, he didn’t need it to use the basic applications on his chip, and his contact could provide enough illumination for the optical display without outside light.

He had the schematics for his robot bird up and was dithering around with ideas for a smaller insect version. Considering all that could be done with nanites, he didn’t think a bee-sized robot would be too challenging. Imbuing it with flight without giving it something akin to a drone’s thrusters would be hard, but he found himself wanting to do that, to create something as lifelike as possible for Princess Oku’s aesthetic sensibilities.

The overhead light came on without warning. He flung his arm up to protect his eyes and nearly pitched onto the flagstone floor. He recovered and swung his legs off the bench. His captors had taken his belt and shoes, along with his tool satchel, so he could feel the cold floor through his socks.

Aside from the bench that extended six feet along the back of the cell from wall to wall, there were no furnishings. Only a drain in the middle of the floor. Casmir tried not to imagine blood from past prisoners streaming toward it in rivulets. Somehow, the lack of thumbscrews, whips, and pears of anguish hanging on the walls didn’t convince him that torture had never occurred here. He would be surprised if it occurred in this modern era, but he didn’t want to make assumptions.

Footsteps sounded in the wide corridor outside, and Casmir shuffled to his feet out of some notion that he should face his fate with his chin up and his spine straight. He tried not to think about the fact that he’d now missed two doses of his seizure medication. He’d had the foresight to bring it with him when he left the Dragon but it hadn’t mattered. The guards had removed it along with his tool satchel. He didn’t know why so many people who imprisoned him insisted on taking his medications, but after all this was over, he intended to lobby for a stipulation in the Intersystem War Treaty that made it illegal to keep prisoners from their prescription drugs. Admittedly, that treaty applied to prisoners of war, not simply prisoners, but—

Four people stepped into view. Two were guards in combat armor, their helmets and faceplates obscuring their expressions. The third man wore a doctor’s white coat, and the last a high-ranking officer’s Kingdom Guard uniform. A Royal Intelligence officer, Casmir guessed, though he didn’t know what the insignia for the various branches were.

“Make sure he doesn’t slip out,” the officer told the guards, then slapped a panel on the wall.

The metal bars that comprised the front of the cell clanked as they slid aside. Ishii had been wrong. Casmir hadn’t been dropped in an oubliette. His cell was disappointingly mundane.

“You think?” one of the armored men asked, his voice muffled by his helmet. “Should we also loom imposingly to intimidate him?”

The officer frowned at him, then shook his head at the doctor. “I always get the comedians.”

The doctor had an expressionless face and didn’t react to the comments.

The officer waved him into the cell. “Set up, and let me know when you’re ready.”

“It won’t take long.”

“I’m allergic to eslevoamytal.” Casmir eyed the doctor as he opened his kit on the bench. “Very allergic.”

“We’re aware of the incident on the Osprey,” the officer said.

“The incident?” Was that what the report had called Casmir going into anaphylactic shock and having a seizure? How vague and distancing.

“We’ll use a different interrogation drug.” The doctor held up a small brown bottle and a syringe. “And we’ll test you for a reaction first.”

“What happens if I’m allergic to that one too?” Casmir asked.

“We get to do more than loom.” The chatty guard cracked his gauntleted knuckles.

“I guess I’ll hope for a lack of hives then,” Casmir said.

“I would,” the officer murmured. He gripped his chin and watched Casmir intently.

“This isn’t necessary, guys,” Casmir said. “I’m more than happy to discuss the things in my head. Just ask my roommate, Kim. As she’ll be the first to admit, getting me to shut up about the things in my head is the real challenge.” Casmir wasn’t sure he should mention her, but being cooped up in here without network access had him aching to know what was happening to his friends.

Were Qin and Bonita all right? Was the Dragon still being kept in the air harbor across the street? How had Kim’s meeting with Royal Intelligence gone? Would this man know? Would he share?

“Where’s the gate that was taken from a wreck on Skadi Moon?” the officer asked.

“I’d prefer to give that information directly to the king.” Maybe. After he talked to the king and found out what his plans for the gate were…

The officer grunted. “I’m sure you would. Perhaps while delivering some poison you were programmed to inflict during your time as a prisoner on Captain Tenebris Rache’s ship.”

Casmir didn’t know whether to be alarmed or heartened that this man appeared to have most of the details of what had been happening to him during the last few weeks. Not all of them, he hoped. Such as the secret connection he wished he did not share with Rache but did.

“If I were carrying poison, your guards’ very thorough search would have uncovered it,” Casmir said. “They removed everything I was carrying, and now they have intimate knowledge about what I have and haven’t been digesting these last few days.”

“That’s disgusting,” the chatty guard said from his spot in the corridor.

“You still want to put your hands on him?” the officer asked.

“Not that part.”

“Your arm,” the doctor stated, coming to stand at Casmir’s side with a small needle and what looked like a swab doused with disinfectant. Its astringent smell wafted up to Casmir’s nostrils.

Reluctantly, Casmir offered his arm. At least they were testing him for an allergy before drugging him.

The doctor pushed up his sleeve, swabbed cool moisture against a spot on his inner arm, then pricked him with the needle.

Knowing they would wait a couple of minutes for a reaction, Casmir groped for a way he could avoid telling these people where the cargo ship was orbiting. If the military found it and secured it, not only would his decision to hide it have been for naught, but he might be deemed an enemy to the Kingdom for attempting to obstruct them. Maybe he’d signed up for that fate the day he hadn’t given the cargo ship to Captain Ishii, but he’d hoped to manipulate the situation somehow so that all the systems could have access to the gate… and he could still go back home to his old job. He’d envisioned himself in the role of hero and freedom fighter, not betrayer of the crown, but maybe the two had always been mutually exclusive, and he hadn’t realized it.

“No clinically significant reaction,” the doctor said.

“Are you sure?” Casmir squinted. “That looks like a hive.”

“It’s very small. You should be fine.”

“Should be.” Casmir gave the officer his most imploring and innocent smile. “Sir, I don’t want to cause trouble. I just hid the gate because I wanted to make sure nobody else would be harmed—no, killed—before we figured out a good way to handle it. I know Captain Sora Ishii. I didn’t want to see dozens of his crew killed by the gate’s deadly defense because he was given orders to transport it back to Odin. And if it had been brought down to the planet, how many more might have been killed by exposure? I was afraid the military would underestimate the danger.”

The officer hesitated.

Casmir held his gaze, oozing imploringness and willing the man to believe he was speaking the truth. It was at least a partial truth. “Do you really want to send the military out there to retrieve the gate before we’ve figured out how to nullify its tendency to zap people with a horrific pseudo radiation?”

“We’ll deal with it,” the officer said. “Your friend Scholar Kim Sato has already been recruited to ensure our troops and scientists are equipped to handle it.”

“Recruited? Did she have a choice?”

“She knew without having to be forced that cooperating with the government is the wise route, if one wants to remain a citizen in good standing.” The officer pressed his lips together in disapproval, then nodded once at the doctor.

“She’s always been smarter than me.” Casmir sighed and sat on the bench. There was no point in physically struggling. Or wishing that he’d allowed Zee to accompany him to the castle and hurl all of the guards over the wall and into the ocean far below.

No, that only would have made his situation worse.

The doctor pressed a jet injector to Casmir’s arm, and the sharp hiss made an unpleasant tingle go up his spine. He eyed the spot warily, afraid far more than a hive would arise, and he paid close attention to the back of his throat, waiting for the telltale tickle of an allergic reaction. It didn’t come.

“Go ahead, sir,” the doctor said.

The officer withdrew an electronic tablet and stylus. “What is your full name, Casmir?”

“Casmir Eliezer Dabrowski.”

“And why does the Black Stars terrorist group want you dead?”

That wasn’t the calibration question Casmir had expected, and he had no doubt answering with an honest and aggrieved, “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

“Who leads the Black Stars?”

“I don’t know.”

Why were they asking him that? Until Asger had told him, Casmir hadn’t even known who was behind the crusher attacks.

“Where are they located on Odin?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is your relationship to Captain Tenebris Rache?”

Oh, hell. That one he knew—more or less—and panic welled up in his chest. Casmir didn’t want to answer, but the words flowed from his lips. “We look the same.”

The doctor’s eyebrows flew up. The officer didn’t react at all. He didn’t even look like he was trying to hide a reaction. Could he already know?

“Did he ask you to do anything when he captured you?”

Casmir thought back. “I had to open a case holding a bioweapon for him, but my friends showed up, and we escaped before I had to help him with anything else. Later, he asked me to work for him and build robots. I said no. He’s a psychopath. Well, maybe that’s not the precise term. Kim said that’s just what the media calls him. But that maybe he’s a sociopath. Either way, he’s evil. I know it.” This time, Casmir didn’t have to consciously make his eyes imploring. That was simply what happened when he gripped his knees and looked up, meeting the officer’s gaze. “I’m not evil. I just want to help people. I made mistakes. With the crushers. I thought they were for defending the planet, like golems from the old Yiddish tales, you know? They could help out and protect the people of Odin. That’s what I wanted when I helped make them. But someone is using them to hurt people, to take over other stations.”

In the back of his mind, Casmir knew he shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be objecting to orders that had likely come from the king and that this officer either agreed with or didn’t care one way or another about. But he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t keep from babbling everything in his mind. He felt intoxicated and without impulse control.

“Did he ever try to brainwash you or suggest you should kill the king?” the officer asked without commenting on the rest.

“No, but he hates King Jager. I don’t know why. Do you know? The princess said she recognized me because she knew someone who looked like me once, but I only know about looking like Rache. Do you know why she would have known him?”

The guards exchanged looks, and the doctor continued to look surprised by Casmir’s words. The officer continued to not look surprised. How much more about him—about everything—did Royal Intelligence already know?

“He’s evil,” Casmir repeated. “He kidnapped Kim and exposed her to that damn wreck. I don’t want to be anything like him. It’s not right. He’s so strong and perfect too. He doesn’t have any of my—” he jerked his hand down his body and waved at his eye even as it blinked twice, “—issues. It’s not fair.”

Now he sounded like a petulant kid. He wished he could keep the words in, but they wouldn’t be held back.

“Are you prepared to tell us the coordinates of the gate?” the officer asked dispassionately. He clearly didn’t care that it was unfair that Casmir had an identical twin that was better than he was in every way.

“Oh, sure,” Casmir burbled. “It’s in orbit around Modi Moon. Nobody goes there. It’s just a bald hunk of rock. The exploratory ships didn’t find anything worth mining when they visited.”

“Excellent.” The officer handed him the tablet. “Write down the coordinates.”

No, came a stern order from the back of Casmir’s mind. Don’t give them this, or they’ll have no use for you. They might make you disappear, especially now that they know you’re Rache’s twin…

Despite the admonition, Casmir couldn’t keep from writing down exactly what they wanted.

* * *

“It looks good,” Yas said, walking into the shuttle bay where Jess was touching up the paint job on the hull. It looked completely innocuous, especially compared to the weapon-laden black combat shuttles lined up beside it. Mattresses and tables were painted on the side. “You’re not inhaling any fumes, are you? You should avoid any extra toxins while your body is in a fragile state.”

Jess lowered the spray brush tool and gave him a wry look. “I’m not pregnant, Doc. I’ve checked recently.”

“That’s not what I—er, you checked?” All he’d had in mind was talking to her about the exam she hadn’t shown up for, but he immediately started wondering about why she’d felt she needed to check. He supposed it was silly to assume she wasn’t in a relationship with anyone—after all, with her beauty, she could have crooked a finger and had any of the mercenaries—but he had assumed… well, she could do so much better than these thugs. She ought to be with a handsome, charming, and well-educated professional. Ideally, someone not wanted by the law for murdering people.

Yas wasn’t sure what expression he wore, but she smirked. “Maybe I should say nature informed me in its special way rather than that any kind of checking was required.” She held up the tool. “Did you come to help paint?”

“No. I came because you missed your appointment, and I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine, Doc.” She turned back to her project. “I’m just busy.”

“We went through a trauma that almost killed us. You need to come by every few days for an exam, at least for a couple of weeks.”

“Are you examining yourself?”

“Oh yes. I’m a hypochondriac even at the best of times. I regularly examine everything.”

“Everything? How’s everything working?” She smirked at him again.

Was that an innuendo? And if so, was she flirting? “Sublimely.”

“Then I’m sure my bits are all fine too. I’ll let you know if they aren’t.”

Yas sighed. “Jess…”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and I wish you’d just drop it. I don’t take the trylochanix that often. Just when I’m in pain and need it. I’m not addicted.”

“You were suffering from withdrawal symptoms when we were locked up on that research ship.”

“No, I was suffering from some ancient wreck trying to irradiate me. We’re lucky we’re not all glowing like bioluminescent algae right now.”

Yas kept himself from sighing again. He didn’t want to nag her—he wanted her to consider him a friend, not someone obnoxious that she wanted to avoid—but how else could he help her?

“I’ve never seen that,” he said.

“The water worlds in System Hydra have all manner of amazing fish and seaweed and weird water critters that glow in the dark. There’s an octopus kind of thing that alternates glowing through all the colors of an Odinese rainbow. I stayed on Nabia for a week once after a big match. No place to stand, except on the manmade islands and cloud cities, but it’s a memorable experience.”

“It sounds like it. Jess, I don’t want you to feel pain. Really. I just want to help you find something less addictive, so you won’t end up in a situation where you’re vulnerable in enemy hands because you rely on a drug. And because I want you and your liver to have a long, healthy life. I’m sure we can—”

The shuttle-bay door opened, and Rache walked in wearing full combat armor and several weapons. Lieutenant Amergin ambled in behind him.

Jess smiled and waved. “Captain! I’ve got your chariot all painted up.”

Yas wondered if she was truly that pleased to see Rache, or if she was merely relieved that Yas had been interrupted and she didn’t have to respond to his words.

“Good.” Rache’s tone was flat, and he strode to the hatch of the shuttle, a pack over his shoulder. “Lieutenant, brief the doctor, and keep researching while I’m gone.”

“Will do, Captain.”

Rache hopped inside, and the hatch promptly shut. A warning flashed, the shuttle bay controller warning them that it would depressurize in thirty seconds.

“He doesn’t dilly dally, does he?” Yas hurried out with Amergin and Jess.

“Never.” Amergin leaned against the corridor wall as the shuttle-bay door closed.

“You have something to brief me about?” Yas asked.

Dare he get his hopes up this soon? The day before, he’d told Amergin everything he remembered from that eventful night, but since they weren’t in the same system, Yas had expected it would be weeks before he heard anything.

“Not specific to your president’s assassination, but you should know that wasn’t the only one. The Mining Union lost one of their key leaders a few months ago—mysterious poisoning—and there are rumors out there that the attack on Stribog Station in System Augeas wasn’t something the Star Kingdom instigated, despite a bunch of their crushers being seen there. Who’s involved? There’s lots of speculation, but someone who has access to those crushers—or who knows how to make them.”

Yas had never heard of them until a few weeks ago. As far as he knew, Rache’s quirky twin was responsible for inventing them, but that didn’t mean much. If the schematics had been shared around, manufacturing facilities all over the Twelve Systems could be creating them now.

“There’s a terrorist group down on Odin known to have some—the Kingdom is calling them terrorists, anyway; I reckon they’re someone else’s freedom fighters.”

“Some crushers?”

“Yup.”

“I didn’t see any of those on Tiamat Station that night—or ever.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t there. You know your president was strangled, right?”

“That’s what the news reports said, yes.” He shuddered, imagining someone doing that to the poor old lady. And it also disturbed him to think that someone would think him capable of such a thing.

“I’ll keep looking for information. Just be aware that it might be a powerful group that’s behind things, if these deaths and attacks are all linked.”

“Does that mean Rache won’t be willing to go after them?”

“Not necessarily, but he might want more pay.”

“I’m not paying him at all, except with my time.”

“Yup.” Amergin smirked and gripped Yas’s shoulder. “Seems like you might be living on this ship for a long, long while, Doctor.”

Yas sagged against the wall.

Amergin released him and ambled away.

Yas looked for Jess, wanting to resume their conversation, or maybe just cry on her shoulder, but she was gone.

7

A robot vacuum whirred softly as it trundled along the deck in front of the open cargo hatch, slurping up water spatters left by the misty breeze. Night had fallen outside, and the wind had blown clouds in from the sea. The air smelled delightfully salty, and Qin liked the sensation of cool water droplets landing on her cheeks.

Occasional honks, beeps, and sirens sounded out in the city, but the area around the air harbor and the street running past the castle were relatively quiet. She wished she could go out and explore, perhaps visit those trees she kept smelling.

“Must we leave the hatch open?” Viggo asked.

“No, but I may not get to go outside, so I’m trying to enjoy what I can.” Qin’s heart ached at the idea of staying on the ship the entire time they were on Odin, however long that would be. The search and interrogation had been completed, but four Kingdom Guards remained on duty, sitting in and standing near a vehicle parked fifty meters from the cargo hatch. Qin had little doubt their job was to make sure that she and Bonita didn’t wander off.

“Outside is filthy. Staying in here is much preferable.” Four more of Viggo’s vacuums sailed out of engineering to dry the only slightly damp deck near Qin’s feet. “Inside with the hatch closed. You’re going to clog my filters with all manner of unsterile microbes.”

“Isn’t that what those filters are there for?” Bonita asked from the ladder well. She walked across the cargo hold, limping even though she looked like she was trying not to limp. “To bathe in all manner of unsterile dirt and germs?”

“Had I a stomach,” Viggo said, “it would be extremely unsettled at the thought.”

Bonita stopped next to Qin and grimaced at the lit pavement outside, or perhaps at the Guards watching them. It could also be that her knees were bothering her more than usual. Her limp had been more pronounced since they landed. Was it because of the strain of Odin’s strong gravity? Qin hoped she hadn’t injured her knees further in the battle.

“We have a meeting tomorrow.” Bonita patted Qin on the shoulder. “With the baron who may buy Casmir’s patent. He still finds it suspicious that the creator is not available to state that he gave it to me, but I’m hoping Casmir will find a way out of that dungeon.”

“So he can come talk to the patent buyer?” Qin asked. “Or so he’ll avoid torture and great personal pain?”

“I’m amenable to both of those things. He’s not a bad kid. And I wouldn’t wish torture and personal pain on more than sixteen or seventeen people.”

“That many?”

“Well, I have three ex-husbands.”

“The rest are just mortal enemies?”

“Men and women who have done me wrong—who have done a lot of people wrong. You work in the bounty-hunting business long enough, you run into some unappealing sorts.” Bonita cocked her head. “Wouldn’t you wish your pirate masters—your former pirate masters—some torture and pain?”

“No.” A breeze brought in a fresh misty whiff of the ocean, and Qin inhaled the salty scent. “I guess I was raised to know I was their property and expect… what I got. I feel rebellious for having run away, for being out here wondering how I can make my freedom permanent. But I don’t wish anyone torture and pain. I guess if I wished anything, it would be for something to happen in their lives that would cause them to empathize with others and not treat them so callously.”

“You know what’s likely to happen in their lives to cause that? Their deaths. Their painful deaths, ideally.”

Qin smiled and let it go. She and Bonita were different people, and that was fine. More than once, Bonita had stuck up for her when she hadn’t been willing to do it for herself, when her instinct had been to turn the other cheek. In battle, different instincts came into play and she could kill enemies without a thought, but outside of battle, she tried to keep her equanimity. She was too dangerous to let herself lose her temper. This was a better way for her.

Another scent tickled her nostrils, and she knew Asger had also come down the ladder. She wondered if he’d heard any of the conversation and, if so, what he thought of it.

Not that it mattered what he thought. She had to keep telling herself that. She wasn’t even sure why he was still on the ship. What exactly had he promised Casmir?

“The baron is going to come here for the meeting,” Bonita said. “We don’t have to go anywhere. I explained our predicament. After the baron—I think he’s also the chief executive officer—got over his alarm that we are possibly considered criminals in the Kingdom—pending the outcome of this little investigation, I suppose—he agreed to come personally.”

“That’s good.”

Good that Qin would never have to set foot off the ship. Never see the beach or the trees…

Bonita noticed Asger walking up, his pack over his shoulder.

“Captain.” He bowed politely, a very shallow bow. “Since the investigators have left, and you seem to have recovered from the questioning, I’ll take my leave of your ship.”

Bonita stepped to the side and gestured toward the ramp.

“As I told Qin,” Asger said without looking at Qin, “Casmir asked me to help you if you need anything. You’re welcome to comm me if any trouble comes looking for you. Also, those gentlemen by the vehicle out there have instructions to protect you as well as to keep you here.”

“I suppose it’s bad form if something happens to the prisoners on their watch,” Bonita said.

“I suppose.” He nodded to her, then looked at Qin, hesitated, and nodded to her as well before heading down the ramp.

Qin knew it was silly, but she felt a little zing of triumph at his eye contact. Maybe eventually, he would come to see her as a human being. Or at least a person with human thoughts and feelings.

Bonita closed the hatch, cutting off the scents and the mist. A surge of disappointment rushed through Qin. It was a ridiculous feeling—after so many years on ships and stations, she should be used to being closed up inside of them—but she couldn’t help but long to experience nature.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” Bonita said, heading for the ladder again. “So I can be perky and bright for any negotiations that might take place tomorrow. I should know better than to get my hopes up, but it would be nice if we could leave this system at a net profit instead of a net loss.”

Qin trailed her to the ladder as the ship’s lights dimmed for the night cycle. “Do you think afterward, if we haven’t heard from Casmir, we should do something?”

Bonita stepped out of the ladder well on the middle deck but paused before heading to her cabin. “Just get that out of your head, kid. This isn’t like the deal with Rache. We didn’t get Casmir into this trouble. He picked it for himself, and he can get himself out of it. Besides, we can’t take on a whole government. What are we going to do? Bomb their castle?”

“No. I just wish we could help.”

“Then pray for him, kid.” Bonita headed into her cabin, shutting the hatch with a soft clang.

Qin didn’t point out that she hadn’t been raised to believe in any deities and knew little about religion of any kind. It hadn’t been deemed important when the scientists and their military advisors had been training her to kill. Maybe the Druckers would even have considered it a flaw if she developed some kind of religion-inspired morality that made killing objectionable.

She headed toward her cabin, having a vague notion that lighting a candle and hoping for Casmir’s well-being would be the same as praying, but thoughts of the trees and the smells of nature crept back into her mind. She was sure a park was nearby. It shouldn’t be in use this late at night. Maybe… maybe she could slip out without the guards outside being any wiser. She was fast and stealthy. They might not see her leave.

Before she’d consciously decided to enact her plan, her feet led her up another set of rungs to navigation and the hatch in the ceiling right behind it. She climbed up and slipped outside, inhaling deeply and feeling invigorated by the damp air.

It was dark on top of the ship, and the Dragon’s dome shape provided enough contours for her to stay low and out of sight of the guards. She slithered partway down the hull, then sprang free, landing in a soundless crouch twenty feet below. She ran across the pavement, keeping the ship between her and her potential observers. Here and there, red lights glowed, indicating cameras and drones patrolling the perimeter of the air harbor. She doubted her trip would go unrecorded, but she hoped she could make it to the park and back before anyone cared enough to look for her. She also hoped she wouldn’t get Bonita in trouble.

When she reached the towering wall around the landing area, she sprang into the air, powerful muscles letting her sail as high as a panther. She alighted atop the wall, then jumped down into an empty street, closed businesses lining the sides. She couldn’t yet see trees, but her nose guided her toward them.

If anyone was watching the street from the windows, they didn’t call out. But why would they? In the dark, who could tell that she wasn’t entirely human?

A half a mile whizzed past under her boots, and it wasn’t long before the scent of earth and grass and trees grew stronger, and the dark swath of a park came into view. Qin sprinted the last quarter of a mile and sprang to land in the grass, ignoring the gravel path meandering through the vegetation. She ran to a tree and rested her palm against the trunk, letting her claws expand to lightly grip the bark. At first, she just wanted to touch it, to revel in this hint of nature that called to something deep in her genes. But as she looked up at the sprawling branches and how they stretched to the next tree over, which stretched to the one after that, an idea formed in her mind, and she knew she had to make it a reality.

She tore off her boots and her socks, then climbed the tree. Branches rattled, her body too large for the soundless passage she would have preferred, but she found her balance as easily as she’d hoped, and ran out on a tree limb. A startled bird that had been roosting for the night squawked and flew off. Some predatory urge to spring after it rose up within her, but she squelched it. She wasn’t hungry. She didn’t need to hunt. She needed… She didn’t know what, but she sprang to the next tree. And the next.

The branches weren’t wide, but they were strong enough to support her weight, and she landed easily, claws sinking in when she needed. A grin sprawled across her face as she felt the damp wood under her feet, the scent of foliage all around her. She’d never in her life done this. Only three times had she been on worlds with trees like this, and she’d always been with the pirates, never allowed to run off, to play. Only to work, always to work. And often to kill.

She traversed the entire rim of the park before running out of conveniently placed trees. Finally, she dropped down and wrapped her arms around the one next to her, wishing she knew the name of the species. Wet grass tickled the bottoms of her foot pads, dampening her sprinkling of fur. She pressed her cheek to the trunk, inhaling deeply, so pleased to be there that tears welled in her eyes.

She heard the soft whisper of footsteps in the grass before she smelled anyone’s approach. The breeze had shifted, and she was upwind of the other park-goer.

Qin, trained to expect danger from every quarter, turned to face the person as he spoke.

“Uh, Qin?” It was Asger.

Had he followed her? Why? To protect her from trouble? Or to make sure she didn’t get into trouble?

“Yes?” She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to feel silly about having been caught hugging a tree.

“What are you doing here?”

He gazed curiously at her, his face in shadow and difficult to see, even with her enhanced nocturnal vision. He stood on the grass, the city and the bluff lit up behind him. The castle wasn’t visible from here, but numerous large structures along the bluff were, and she experienced some amusement at a phallic spire sticking up directly behind his head. Bonita had a tendency to call pompous people dickheads. It seemed especially appropriate for Asger.

“I wanted to see the park,” Qin said.

Asger looked at the tree she had been hugging. “Oh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was talking to the guards when one of the air harbor cameras spotted you jumping the wall and gave them an alert. I said I’d find you. I was afraid if they went after you, they might shoot first and ask questions… never.”

“Would that matter to you? You did try to kill me the first time we met.” Qin wondered how she could ask him to leave so she could flop down in the grass and wriggle her bare toes in it. She longed for a couple of hours out here before she had to go back to the ship. Would he allow it or try to force her to return?

Asger gazed to the side, toward the buildings on the bluff. “Casmir said you weren’t the one who killed Sandor.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“My friend—a knight—who we lost at the Kvasir Belt, fighting pirates—the Drucker pirate family—who were stealing from miners in the belt. We drove them off but lost men. Good men.”

Qin closed her eyes and tried to remember such an incident. The Druckers stole from many and claimed five large warships among them. They were rarely all together, so it was possible this had happened without her knowledge.

“I hadn’t been to System Lion before I came with Bonita, but the Druckers have five ships, or they did when I last saw them, and they only sometimes work together. Each brother captains one, and they’re often out for themselves. There were two cohorts of us that they ordered, three years apart. Nine in each. There are—were—nine Qin Liangyus and nine of the older girls. I’m Liangyu Three. We’re not identical to each other or the older cohort, but we’re all from similar genetic material. You could call us sisters.”

Qin prodded the damp grass with her toe. She didn’t like talking about her past with normal people who’d grown up in homes with parents, because it only emphasized that she was an oddity, but she didn’t want to be enemies with Asger. If by explaining she could make him understand that she wasn’t the Qin Liangyu he had a grudge against, maybe it would be worth it. Or maybe it didn’t matter. Casmir had befriended Asger, and it hadn’t gotten him very far. It bothered Qin that Casmir was trapped in some dark dungeon with nobody to fight for him. Had his family even been told?

“But you killed when you worked for the Druckers?” Asger asked.

“Yes, I killed for them. But I didn’t work for them. They never paid me. They paid to have me made, and so they owned me. That’s the law in some systems. There’s a contract out for me right now—they’re paying to have me returned.” Maybe she shouldn’t have admitted that, but she doubted a Kingdom knight would stoop to collecting a bounty put out by pirates. “I escaped six months ago. I don’t want to go back. I’ve always longed for freedom. Battling seems to be in my blood, but I want to choose my battles.”

“They think they own you?” For the first time, Asger sounded indignant. Indignant on her behalf or just at some vague notion that people shouldn’t be bought and sold?

“They have a piece of paper from System Cerberus that says they do own me.” Qin couldn’t manage to speak with his same indignation. There was slavery in several systems, and that was just how it was.

She was surprised it didn’t seem to exist in the Kingdom. She’d expected System Lion with their royalty and nobility to be less egalitarian than more.

“That’s loathsome. How much money do you need to buy your freedom?” Asger spat. “You shouldn’t even have to buy it. It’s your right to have it. You should wipe out those damn pirates.”

“There are about two thousand of them spread between those five warships,” Qin said. “I’d have to talk Casmir into building me a very large robot army to have a shot at that.”

Asger snorted. “Don’t suggest that. He probably would. He’s in enough trouble without incurring the wrath of pirates.”

“He does have a noble streak.” Qin almost pointed out that Casmir had the noble streak she had expected in Asger, but he was having a real conversation with her for the first time, and she didn’t want to ruin it. “Is there any way to help him out of that dungeon? Bonita said she wouldn’t act against the king and all his men, and I understand that—that’s even worse than taking on all the Druckers—but it seems like there ought to be something crafty we can do.”

“The queen will be back soon. She said she would speak with him. I’m hoping—”

A boom thundered through the city, and orange light flashed on the bluff behind Asger.

He whirled. “What the hell?”

Fire leaped from the rooftop of a blocky building at the end of the bluff. A siren wailed, and a dozen others started up. Qin winced, the sounds an assault on her sensitive ears.

“A bomb?” she asked uncertainly, more accustomed to seeing explosions in space, where they weren’t so violent and where the vacuum swallowed sound. They had to be a mile away from that structure, but she could hear the flames crackling.

“It’s the synagogue.” Asger broke into a run. “People could be in there. Sometimes, they have night services.”

As he sprinted for the street, Qin only debated for a second whether to follow him or return to the ship. If it had been a bombing, people could be hurt, and whoever had done it might not want a knight to show up to deter their getaway. Qin didn’t feel loyalty to Asger, but now that she knew him a little, she felt something. They’d fought together before, so he was akin to a crew member in her mind, and she didn’t want him to be hurt.

She snatched up her boots, put them on, and raced after Asger. She was impressed by how fast he could run without, as far as she knew, any cybernetic enhancements or genetic modifications, but she was almost as tall as he was, and she caught up and ran beside him.

He glanced at her but didn’t suggest she go back to the ship. He kept running, the street swinging wide to switchback up the hill toward the bluff. Emergency aircraft appeared in the sky, and the sirens continued to wail. Lights in the city that had been off earlier came on, and people stumbled out of apartment buildings to gape at the flaming building.

As Qin and Asger reached it, aircraft tankers started dumping water on the flaming rooftop. A different aerial vehicle sprayed a white fire suppressant.

“Crushers!” Asger blurted. He’d been running toward the structure—the synagogue, he’d called it—but he switched directions, racing down the street after two tarry black forms. They were also running. Fast.

Qin started after Asger, but a scream of pain came from the synagogue. Two of the stone walls had been blown out at the corner, leaving a gaping hole with the roof half-collapsed. The flames were already dwindling, but cries for help increased. The air smelled of soot and the residue of Mark-Pak, an amalgam explosive Qin was familiar with. It also smelled of blood and burned flesh.

Qin glanced at Asger, his cloak flapping as he sprinted after the crushers, but she decided to go to the people. Even with her speed, she doubted she could catch the robots.

She sprang over rubble that had been a section of wall and into the structure. Numerous people were trapped under wood beams and collapsed pieces of the roof. She ran to a woman who was pinned alongside a child and used her enhanced strength to hurl a beam off them.

Her first-aid training was limited, and more people were trapped under rubble, so she left the pair once they were free, trusting that medics were on the way. She ran to another pinned person, a bearded man with blood streaming down his face. She freed him, then heard victims crying under a mound of rubble. She dug into it, throwing pieces wildly to the sides until she realized more people were streaming into the area. Uniformed Kingdom Guards and medics with robots with hover gurneys. They lifted the people Qin had freed, helping them walk out or laying them on the gurneys.

When Qin pulled a frail gray-haired woman out from under crushed pews, she started to pat Qin thankfully, but then she saw Qin’s face and her pointed ears, and she reared back with a terrified gasp. She scrambled to get away, glancing back and almost falling several times as she fled the building.

The reaction stung, but Qin made herself keep working, keep freeing people. Her great strength ought to be good for more than slaying enemies.

Unfortunately, some of the worshippers did not move when she cleared the rubble from atop them. She didn’t stop to check for pulses, again leaving that for someone else.

Finally, when her ears, nose, and eyes told her that everyone who could be rescued had been, she turned for the exit—the gaping hole where the corner walls had met. When she stepped out into the light from dozens of land and air rescue vehicles parked outside, several Kingdom Guards pointed rifles at her.

“Stop right there!”

“God, what is it?”

“Some freak from another system.”

“She might have done the bombing. Cuff her.”

“You cuff her.”

Qin blinked rapidly to keep tears from forming in her eyes. This wasn’t the time for hurt feelings. She crouched, preparing to spring to the rooftop—what remained of it—and flee back to the ship before they could arrest her.

“Lower your weapons,” came Asger’s stern voice as he strode up from the side.

Sweat bathed his face, some of his shoulder-length hair was plastered to his neck, and he was breathing heavily, but he managed to look authoritative as he approached. Four of the five Guards lowered their weapons. Only one hesitated, glancing back and forth from Asger to Qin.

“But, Sir Knight—”

“Lower it.” Asger had reached him by then, and he snatched the rifle from the man’s grip. “She was with me when the bomb went off. She wasn’t responsible.”

“Er, but she’s not… human.”

“Go find who was responsible. At the least, there were two crushers—big black robots that can turn to liquid and back to a solid at will. But there may have been people here too.” Asger looked toward the injured men, women, and children being loaded into ambulances. “Terrorists.”

He clenched a fist, his eyes burning with fury. The Guards, perhaps thinking some of that anger was directed at them, scurried away.

“I want to see if there’s any obvious evidence before the Guard swarms all over the interior,” Asger said to Qin and strode toward the interior.

A part of her, thinking of the dead she’d uncovered, was reluctant to go back inside. She felt she’d failed those people by not arriving in time. But if she didn’t stay with Asger, she might end up being arrested. Besides, it would be cowardly to be unwilling to walk among the dead. It wasn’t her fault that this had happened. She’d done the best she could.

As Asger climbed over the rubble, a boy of seven or eight ran up to Qin, a metal robot doll clutched to his chest. He stopped and stared up at her.

“You are a cat woman,” he whispered.

“Something like that,” Qin murmured warily, certain he would blurt freak next.

“That is so supernova! And you saved my sister.” He jumped up and hugged Qin.

She was so startled that she almost couldn’t stop her instinctual reflex to spring away from a threat. But she did. She stood still for the embrace, the robot doll being smashed against her thigh.

“Herschel!” a woman called, waving from one of the air ambulances.

“I have to go. Here.” The boy thrust the doll at her. “A sheynem dank!”

Qin gaped as he ran to join his family as they climbed into the ambulance. The hatch closed, and it rose into the air and disappeared over the rooftop. Qin belatedly realized the boy had given her a gift.

“What was that?” Asger looked back at her, glancing at the robot doll.

“A young Casmir, I think.” Qin cradled the boy’s gift in one arm, vowing to clear one of her candle statues out of its case in her cabin to make room for it.

“Is this his religion?” Asger waved at the structure around them. “Or do you mean because of the toy?”

“I think both,” Qin said, though she’d only meant in demeanor—and because the boy hadn’t called her a freak.

“Hm.” Asger walked through the interior, water dripping from the destroyed roof, most of it now open to the misty night.

The flames had dwindled, and he took a flashlight from a member of the search-and-rescue team. They were focused on carrying out bodies. Asger pointed the light beam toward the walls and ceilings. In addition to the corner having been blown out, there was another gaping hole high in the back wall of the main room.

“Are you looking for where the blast originated?” Qin asked.

“Yes, or other clues.”

“I can find the spot.” Qin tapped her nose, then focused on sifting out the myriad odors in the area. She’d caught a whiff of a familiar explosive before. Yes, it was still there, underlying the scents of charred wood, stone dust, and death.

She climbed over shattered pews and rubble to a doorway near a pulpit. A flame burned in a hanging lantern, undisturbed by the chaos around it. The hallways and rooms in the back were dark, but her nose led her down a corridor, up a set of stairs, and back toward the hole they’d seen. Light poured in through it. Asger had followed her, and they soon overlooked the worship area.

“There were probably two bombs.” Qin pointed toward the collapsed corner where they’d come in and then at the opening in the wall in front of them. “One was planted around here and probably destroyed in the blast, but maybe…” She sniffed, letting her nose lead her to the remains of a small piece of wrapper, half shredded by the explosion. “I’ve seen bombs like this before.”

She was about to describe them, but Asger took the foil from her and said grimly, “So have I. A Mark-Pak. They’re manufactured in System Cerberus.”

“You think pirates did this?” Qin asked uncertainly, knowing the Druckers had often purchased such supplies in the dubious no-taxes, no-questions system. She couldn’t imagine them targeting the Kingdom—what could be gained?—but worried Asger would have reason to be suspicious of her again.

“Terrorists,” he said. “The Black Stars. We’ve recovered the remains of their ordnance before.”

“Are those the same people who are after Casmir?”

“Yes. I hope it’s a coincidence that they targeted this place. There are seven other churches and temples on this street that represent the major religions practiced in Zamek City and the Kingdom.”

Qin also hoped it was a coincidence. She knew Casmir would be horrified if someone targeted innocent people as a way to hurt him. She feared he would be horrified when he heard about this, regardless.

8

The second evening that Kim returned to her mother’s apartment was similar to the first, except that she walked in distracted, answering messages that scrolled down her contacts, both from her brothers and from Casmir’s parents. Her brothers wanted reassurances that she was fine and would return soon to the dojo. Casmir’s parents wanted to know what had happened to him. She wished she could tell them precisely.

Apparently, he’d sent them a quick note when they were landing, saying he was back on Odin and hoped to see them soon, and they hadn’t heard from him since. Kim also hadn’t heard from him since he’d walked off to the castle with Asger. She could only assume he’d been detained somewhere that blocked network access.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t much less of a prisoner. She did have network access from the apartment—the government lab she’d been assigned to blocked personal communications and all but work-related resources—but as she’d found out the day before, her two bodyguards would allow her to walk to and from work, but she couldn’t detour elsewhere. When she’d asked about stopping for take-out, they had laconically informed her that she should get used to grocery delivery.

More than once, she’d thought about asking her new shadow, Zee, to hoist them from their feet and toss them into a dumpster, but she feared her career and her citizenship would be at risk if she didn’t cooperate with the government.

At least Zee and the guards remained in the corridor outside of her mother’s apartment at night, and Kim had the interior, including a small balcony, to herself.

Or she usually did. She lurched to a stop when she walked into the living room and spotted a large gift basket resting on the dining room table.

She looked around warily. The unimaginative rental furnishings were undisturbed and the door to the single bedroom stood halfway open, as she had left it that morning, her shower towel draped over the corner to dry, because the laundry machine needed repair. A built-in bookcase, its shelves overflowing, rose to one side of the door, and she eyed it, but if any of the tomes had been disturbed, she couldn’t tell. They were mostly non-fiction books related to her mother’s field, but a few fiction classics that might have come with the apartment lurked on the top shelf, and her mother had, to Kim’s surprise, kept the four novels she’d written and published under a pen name. She had signed them and given them as a gift, but her mother had never mentioned if she’d read them. Probably not. Her mother had always preferred historical mysteries and thrillers.

The curtains stirred in a breeze, and Kim realized the sliding Glasnax door to the balcony was open a couple of inches. She hadn’t left that open. Even though the apartment was ten stories up, she wouldn’t have made such a security faux pas, not with the city in a state of high-tension in the aftermath of the synagogue bombing.

Did that mean that whoever had brought the basket was still here? It couldn’t be for her mother—it had been months since she’d been on Odin last—but nobody should know Kim was here. What if it was a booby-trapped basket, left by some of the terrorists after Casmir? Or what if someone was waiting for her to be distracted by opening it and would jump out and grab her when she did.

Now, she wished she’d made a habit of bringing Zee into the apartment with her in the evenings, but a lewd discussion from the guards about whether he could morph himself into something more anatomically accurate had left her disinclined to give them more joke material.

The curtains stirred in the breeze again. Or was it just the breeze? She eyed them warily.

At home, she would have had bokken and various sporting implements at hand to grab, but there was nothing like that in her mother’s apartment. If someone jumped out at her…

Kim curled her hands into fists and lifted her chin. They would find that she wasn’t defenseless.

It occurred to her that she could call in the guards to have a look around—in theory, they were there to protect her as much as to imprison her—but she was reluctant to ask for help or have them tramping around in her personal space. She also wasn’t certain she wanted to set them on the trail of whoever had brought the gift.

She walked slowly and quietly, toes touching down first, around the apartment, checking the bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom to make sure nobody would jump out. Lastly, she approached the balcony door. She paused before sliding it open further. Full night had fallen, and she could easily imagine someone crouching in the dark, poised to spring.

Kim flicked the outside light on, and it illuminated the two chairs and small table out there but nobody lurking. She thought about simply closing the door and locking it, but some instinct, or maybe her curiosity, made her open it further and look to the side.

A dark figure leaned against the wall in the corner of the balcony.

Kim leaped back, landing in a crouch with her fists up. The figure did not rush into the apartment after her or even peek inside.

Was it possible he or she—the figure had been cloaked with a hood up—hadn’t seen her? Or heard her pushing the door open? No, the door had made noise. Even the distant roar of the sea wouldn’t have drowned it out.

“That’s not a public balcony,” Kim called.

“No? I didn’t see a private-property sign on it.”

She gaped at the familiar dry voice. “Rache?”

What was he doing here? On Odin? Wouldn’t his ship be shot out of the stars if it was spotted near the planet? For that matter, wouldn’t he be shot if he was spotted?

“What are you doing here?”

Kim didn’t lower her fists. She had no idea what to expect from him. How had he even found her? She was positive she hadn’t told him her address and certainly not her mother’s address. Both might be in a public directory somewhere, but how had he known she would be here?

“I came to deliver your gift. I would have taken a more conventional approach, but there are Kingdom special agents adorning your front door.”

“So, what—you climbed the ten floors to my balcony?”

“Of course not. I’m not an orangutan. I have jet boots.”

Kim kept expecting him to come inside or at least stick his head through the door so they could speak without raising their voices, but he remained in his spot against the wall. It couldn’t be because he worried about intruding on her privacy, not when he was lurking on her balcony and he’d obviously been inside to drop off the basket.

“If you’ll open your gift and let me know if it’s acceptable, I’ll leave you be, assuming that is your wish.” Rache paused. “Though I’d be amenable to a sample if you’re inclined to try it out.”

“Of course it’s my wish. You’re… you.”

“A crime in itself.”

Kim picked up the basket—it was heavier than she expected—and walked out onto the balcony. “I can’t accept a gift from a criminal. Or have you here. I’m already…”

She paused. She didn’t want to admit to him that the authorities were suspicious of her because of her association with Casmir, not when she didn’t truly blame Casmir for anything he’d done. Yes, he’d been impulsive and unwise, but she understood that his heart and emotions drove him as often as rational thought.

“You can’t accept it?” He stood in the same spot, his shoulder blades against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, his hood up and that mask on. He also wore black gloves to match the rest of his black attire. For a ludicrous moment, she imagined him with the same pink bowtie she’d wanted to wrap around Zee’s neck. “You requested it,” he added.

“I requested…” Kim thought back to their last conversation. “I said you owed me a cup of coffee if I kept your men from dying.”

“Yes, you did, and I promised I would get you all the paraphernalia for making a high-quality one.” Rache spread a hand toward the basket.

He had. If she hadn’t wanted him to do that, she should have said something back then, as she was getting off his shuttle. She hadn’t thought he’d follow through with that promise. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to come in person. He couldn’t have come all the way to Odin just for this. He had to have some business here. But what business could a mercenary possibly have on a planet with its own protection agencies capable of keeping the peace?

Idiot, she realized, rocking back. He was here because of Casmir. Because Casmir had hid that gate and, like everybody else, Rache wanted to know where.

Kim looked down at the basket, still tempted to give it back to him, afraid that accepting anything from him would only get her in trouble, especially here, in the capital city. In the heart of the Kingdom. There were security drones all over the place. One might be watching her balcony even now.

“You couldn’t have had it shipped?” she grumbled and went inside.

“Your heartfelt gratitude warms my soul.”

“Shut up, and come inside before someone sees you out there.”

Kim set the basket back down, flattened her hands onto the table, and leaned against them as she stared at it. She wished she hadn’t asked Rache for anything. Though she couldn’t help but think of the favor he’d offered her. Before, she’d thought she might ask him to redeem it by sharing everything he knew about his and Casmir’s genes. But now, with Casmir perhaps in a dungeon cell and herself a prisoner with only slightly more freedom, should she ask for help getting out of their current predicament? But what kind of help could he offer? He had resources—an entire ship full of mercenaries—at his disposal, but it wasn’t as if he could park them on the castle lawn and force Jager to release Casmir. The entirety of the planet’s defenses would mobilize if the Fedallah even appeared in orbit.

“It’s not a bomb,” Rache offered.

“No, I didn’t think it was.”

“And it’s not booby-trapped, but I can open it for you, if you’ll feel safer.”

She frowned darkly at the basket.

“If this is your typical reaction to gifts, I can’t imagine that men feel compelled to deliver them to you often.”

“That’s… not untrue. I usually tell people not to give me gifts, because then I feel socially compelled to reciprocate, and I don’t know what to get. I prefer practical presents and believe other people should too. But everyone I’ve given a practical gift to has seemed confused. I’ve gotten Casmir numerous books on cleaning and organization, full of advice which he clearly needs, and yet he always seems puzzled. One even had illustrations and was structured like a comic book.”

“Does he give you practical gifts?”

“No.”

“Do you scrutinize his gifts this thoroughly and with such a disapproving expression?”

“More thoroughly and with more disapproval, usually.” Kim tugged at her ponytail. “He has a fondness for the ridiculous.”

“Ah.”

Rache clasped his hands behind his back and strolled to the bookcase. Kim wondered if that meant he hadn’t perused it while he’d been waiting for her to return. Maybe he’d brought in the gift, set it down, and retreated outside to wait, somehow seeing that as less of a trespass.

Kim unfastened the tasteful metallic gift paper, assuming he’d had it professionally done and hadn’t wrapped it himself. Something about the idea of the infamous criminal Captain Tenebris Rache being a practiced gift-giver was ludicrous.

“On Casmir’s last gift,” Kim said, finding the silence awkward, “the wrapping paper featured Robot Remstar chasing a robot cat chasing a robot mouse chasing a piece of cheese hanging out of Robot Remstar’s back pocket.”

“That’s either goofy and immature or a poignant philosophical statement about the eternal quest for achievement being forever plagued by the threat of destruction.”

“Probably the former, though he might have considered the latter. He’s not as simple as he pretends to be.” Kim withdrew a high-end espresso maker from the basket. Damn it, it was beautiful. And her mother’s apartment didn’t have one, so she’d been getting lattes from a kiosk on the way to the lab. She also found beans from a local roaster with a good reputation, cups, a tamper, a steaming pitcher, and a grinder with settings sufficient for the fine grind that espresso required.

“I wouldn’t imagine so.” Rache pulled a book from the shelf and opened it, but he looked over his shoulder at her. “Since I’m wondrously complicated.”

She had the sense that he smiled as he said that, but with the mask, who knew? Maybe it was better not to know. If he was flirting and she knew it, she would find his presence here that much more alarming. But she suspected he had chiefly come in the hope of getting Casmir’s location, or maybe even the location of the gate, from her.

“No doubt.” Kim held up the bag of beans. “Thank you. They’re excellent choices, and I will use them.” Because she deserved them after dealing with his kidnapping and being pressured while she hunted for a solution to their problem. Not because of any fondness or appreciation toward him. His thugs had killed Fleet marines when they’d kidnapped her. She would not feel anything toward him except the hope that the Kingdom caught up with him one day and delivered the punishment he deserved.

“Good.” Rache turned, lowering the book in his hand. “I also, as I recall, promised you a favor. Do you need it redeemed at this time?”

“No,” she said, even though she had been thinking of requesting his help.

If he was only here because he wanted information about Casmir, she wouldn’t give him a reason to linger.

“Ah?”

Surely, it was only in her imagination that he sounded disappointed.

“Well, if you change your mind, this is my comm information for my ship.” Rache stepped forward and set a card with nothing but a code on it on the table. “They’ll put you through to me. I don’t plan to be in the area longer than it takes to gather some information, so it would be preferable if you thought of your favor sooner rather than later. But there’s no moratorium on it. It just may be more difficult to fulfill when I’m several weeks and a wormhole jump away.”

Gather information. That had to refer to getting the gate location from Casmir.

She shivered when she imagined him showing up for Casmir with a gun instead of a gift. But if Casmir was truly in a cell in the castle, he ought to be safe from pirates of all sorts. He probably had more to worry about from the king right now.

Unfortunately, Kim didn’t find that comforting.

“I understand,” she said.

Rache hesitated, as if he expected her to say more or change her mind. Or was he considering asking her about Casmir?

He lifted the book. “I’ll just put this back and head out.”

Kim’s heart forgot to beat. It was the first novel in the fantasy trilogy she’d written and published a few years earlier. How could he have known? There was no public information linking her to the pen name and vice versa. She’d made sure of it because she hadn’t wanted it to impinge on her bacteriology career. If he’d found out…

“I was surprised to find the trilogy here.” Rache returned the book to the shelf. “It’s a relatively obscure author, even here in the Kingdom. Have you read him, by chance?”

Him? Kim stared at the back of Rache’s hood as he tucked the book next to the other two in the trilogy. Her pen name was just initials, so the gender wouldn’t be obvious, but it hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would assume the books had been written by a man.

“If your mother were here—did you get her back into working order?—I’d be trying to interrogate her for information, since the books are signed. I presume they’ve met. I’ve been expecting another series for some time, but…” He shrugged and turned around. “Maybe they didn’t sell well enough to satisfy the publisher.”

Kim rushed to wipe off whatever panic or alarm might have been on her face and forced out a calm, “Probably,” along with a nod. “And, yes, Casmir was able to repair her damage.”

“Good. Enjoy the coffee.” Rache pointed to the balcony. “I’ll see myself out. If you’re going to report my presence to your bodyguards, I’d appreciate it if you gave me a few minutes head start.”

“You… expect me to do that? Report you?” she asked as he walked toward the door.

“I was careful not to leave fingerprints or show my face to any cameras, but it’s possible an attentive Kingdom Guard with more than three brain cells could guess my identity. If you wish to ensure you’re not suspected of inviting me here, raising an alarm would be wise. It would make my continued movements on Odin more difficult, but that’s nothing I’m unaccustomed to.”

He paused in the doorway, bowed like a knight, then sprang over the balcony railing, presumably activating his jet boots before plummeting to his death.

Kim stared out the door for a long moment after he disappeared, befuddled by the meeting. She was puzzled because he hadn’t asked her for Casmir’s whereabouts or if she knew where the gate was located. And she was flummoxed that it sounded like he’d read her books. She didn’t think she’d ever met anyone who’d read them. Even her most supportive friend, Casmir, had fallen asleep when she’d read passages aloud to him.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she muttered. “He’s still what he is.”

She picked up the comm card and thought about ripping it up. But no, she might need that favor if Casmir couldn’t figure out how to get out of the castle on his own. She hoped he could. She would prefer to have Rache owing her a favor rather than the other way around.

9

Casmir lay in the blackness of the cell, his chip the only reason he knew how much time had passed. He’d slept, woken, slept, and woken, the darkness throwing off his body clock. Several times, he’d been delivered food by a drone he’d been tempted to capture and try to reprogram, but without his tools, he doubted he’d even be able to get the lid off to poke around inside.

With nothing else to do, he’d been working almost obsessively—no, he admitted, obsessively, there being no almost about it—on his self-assigned robot bee project. Stored on his chip, he had numerous books and articles about the latest developments in robotics and engineering, and there was always Talmud study to catch up on, but this project—this challenge—was the only thing that occupied his mind enough to serve as a true distraction.

He’d contemplated how to dress up his hypothetical robot insects to look like authentic bees and how they could be powered by the same light source that gave life to the trees and plants they would help pollinate. He had also attempted to anticipate all manner of errors and problems that might arise, then recorded several pages of suggestions to address them. He’d done everything short of building them, but since they were based on the same technology he’d used for his robot bird, he believed that part would be relatively simple, especially if he had access to all the tools in his research lab on campus.

But would he ever have access to his lab again?

The fact that he’d told that Intelligence officer everything he knew and was still being held unnerved him. He’d assumed they needed time to send a Fleet ship to check the coordinates and find the cargo vessel, which would be difficult with that stealth generator engaged, but he’d shared everything he remembered about that too. Surely, some smart military officer would come up with a way to locate the ship. Eventually.

Would he die of old age first? No, Asger, wherever he had gone, had promised him a meeting with the queen. If he could be believed, she would return the next day. But would anyone tell her where he was? Was Asger anywhere near the castle?

Casmir grimaced at the idea of the queen coming down to this part of the castle and seeing—and smelling—him. He longed for a hot shower, a bristly scrub brush, a toothbrush, and beard removal gel.

He sneezed three times, and moisture leaked from his left eye. And antihistamines. He dearly longed for those too.

He wouldn’t have thought that anything in the bowels of a rocky bluff deep under a castle could cause an allergic reaction, but there was mildew or mold or something even more inimical growing in a dark, damp nook that bothered his senses and made him long for the sterility of the highly filtered Stellar Dragon.

The lights came on with the same abrupt blinding nature as before, and he yelped in surprise and covered his eyes. Footsteps sounded in the corridor. A lot of footsteps.

Casmir swung his feet to the floor and watched as armored guards trooped into view. Two, four, six, eight… There ended up being twelve packed shoulder to shoulder, all facing his cell from the opposite side of the corridor, the effect bordering on ludicrous.

Nerves pounded like a jackhammer in his stomach as he realized the implications. Would so many guards—bodyguards?—come down for anyone other than royalty? Surely not.

Was it crazy to hope the princess had heard he was down here and come to visit him? Yes. She had no way to know he had a bee project to share with her. One he was reasonably sure she didn’t want because she wanted real bees, and creating those was beyond his abilities. And beyond what the anti-genetic-engineering laws of the Kingdom allowed. He wondered if she was tinkering with the bees the same way the gardeners tinkered with crops, by selectively breeding for different traits.

The Intelligence officer who had questioned him two days before walked into view with an older female officer. She wore a nametag. Van Dijk. That was the chief superintendent, the head of Royal Intelligence, who had brought Kim in to speak with, wasn’t it?

Casmir opened his mouth to ask, but then King Jager walked into view.

He wore plain clothing, black trousers and a rich blue tunic, with neither the crown, scepter, nor purple fur-trimmed cloak that he wore for public occasions, but Casmir had seen his face often enough to recognize it, even half-blinded by the light and with tears weeping from his left eye. That eye blinked a few times on its own schedule.

Casmir dropped to one knee and bowed over it, as he’d seen Asger do for the princess, and used the motion to hide rubbing his face. He willed his eye to knock it off and for his nostrils to be strong, to refrain from sneezing through the bars and all over the king.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” Casmir said without looking up. Unfortunately, that meant looking at the drain. He did his best not to dwell again on thoughts of blood from torture victims dribbling down it. “Thank you for coming to visit me in this most humble of domiciles. A temporary domicile, I do hope. Please let me know if I can be of service and perhaps win my freedom from—”

That was as far as he made it before the sneezes started. A whole chain of them that left both eyes watering. Alas, nobody stuck a handkerchief through the bars for him, so he was forced to sniff indignantly.

“He doesn’t look like a threat to king or Kingdom,” King Jager observed in a deep dry voice that reminded Casmir of Rache. Not the timbre but the affectation that the educated elite all seemed to have. Princess Oku had it, too, but it hadn’t sounded as pompous coming from her lips.

A puzzle piece that had been floating over its slot for a long time clicked into place for Casmir. Rache had been raised here among the nobility. Maybe even among the royalty if Oku had known him. But she’d thought he was dead. Had he staged his death for some reason? And then changed his name and donned the mask so he couldn’t be recognized by Jager and his family?

“Not physically, Sire,” Van Dijk said. “But he’s the cause of all of our problems.”

“All?” Casmir lifted his head and focused on her, since there was probably a rule against making eye contact with a monarch. “That can’t be true. If it is, ruling a kingdom is vastly simpler than I was led to believe, and I’d like to apply immediately for a job on the staff.”

Van Dijk stared at him. So did Jager. Then Jager laughed.

It was such an unexpected response that Casmir rocked back in surprise, the flagstone floor grinding into his kneecap.

“What job would you apply for, Professor?” Jager asked.

“Court roboticist, of course. If that’s not currently a position, perhaps I could convince you of the merits of adding it.”

“We already have a jester, so it couldn’t be similar to that role. Do you imagine this roboticist would work with security?”

Casmir thought of the crushers he’d created to defend Odin and how they were now attacking stations in other systems, and he lost his willingness to banter with the king. “Perhaps,” was all he said.

“If I may, Sire?” The male Intelligence officer extended a hand toward Casmir. An electric shock baton hung from a clip on his belt, something he hadn’t worn on his first visit, and his eyes were hard and humorless as they regarded Casmir. “He may not look dangerous, but he was able to evade the truth drug.”

“What?” Casmir frowned at him.

“We had two ships search the coordinates and orbital trajectory you gave us. The cargo vessel isn’t there.”

Casmir lurched to his feet. “Are you sure? Do they realize how good the stealth technology is? They wouldn’t simply have been able to search for a heat signature.”

“Our best ships went. They sprayed a tracking chemical into the orbital path you gave us. The ship would have passed through it, and they would have found it. If it had been there.”

Casmir gripped his chin, aware of everyone watching him, including the king. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Was it possible some automated system had kicked in with instructions to take the ship home? He’d searched carefully through the navigation and autopilot computers when he’d been en route to Modi Moon, and he’d disabled communications to ensure none of the allies of the astroshamans could pop through System Lion’s gate and turn on a beacon to draw their lost ship home. But he hadn’t been that familiar with the technology. It was possible he’d missed something.

“Damn,” he whispered. He didn’t want those astroshamans having sole access to the gate any more than he wanted the Kingdom military to control it. “That’s where I left it. I’m trying to think of how it might have moved. The crew was all dead, and I reprogrammed the robots and computer systems I left there. I kept the android Tork-57 offline, since he had a lot of autonomy and might have tried again to take the ship home.” Casmir looked at the king and the officer. “Has the gate out of our system been activated? If not, you may want to reinstate a physical blockade and checkpoint to make sure the cargo ship can’t sneak out. If it’s not too late.”

Casmir grimaced. If the cargo ship escaped the system with the ancient gate after all he’d done to keep that from happening, it would be his fault. He could have let the military have it and ensured it would at least remain in System Lion. But now, possible enemies of the Kingdom might have it. His vision of a joint research project that all of the systems could benefit from shattered.

He pushed a hand through his hair. Why had he ever believed he had the right to try to make that happen? Or the power?

“Go,” Jager told the male officer. “Send a message to the warships at the gate.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Jager and the superintendent clasped their hands behind their backs and studied Casmir. He wished he could disappear under one of the flagstones. He’d thought he was being clever, and all he’d done was hand the gate over to possible enemies of the Kingdom. If Jager had him shot for treason, would it even be unjust?

“Do you believe him?” Jager asked Van Dijk. “I know Kyburz was prepared to physically torture him because he thought he knew how to resist the drug.”

Van Dijk hesitated. “It’s hard to say, Sire. He could be a good actor, or he could be a poor one. He has that eye tic, but I’m not sure it’s a stress response.”

“Perhaps not. His genes were flawed from the beginning.”

And with that comment, Casmir realized the king was among the people who knew where he’d come from. He also likely knew who he’d been cloned from. Casmir still struggled to come to terms with the idea that he was a copy of someone who’d lived and died long ago, but for the moment, he remained still, hoping they would give him more information.

“I’d be inclined to give him more credit rather than less, given those genes.” Van Dijk glanced at the silent and unmoving guards. Perhaps because of them, she didn’t comment further.

“Yes, me too.”

“And whose genes are those exactly?” Casmir offered an affable smile, even if his heart wasn’t in it. He felt like kicking himself, not smiling.

Neither of them looked at him.

“So you suggest torture?” Jager asked, not sounding like it would bother him one way or another.

Casmir stuck his hands in his pockets, wondering if that had been inevitable. Would he crumble at the first hint of pain? Probably. He was no knight with a constitution of steel.

“I know Kyburz was in favor of it, but if Dabrowski eluded the drug, he may be able to withstand torture too.” Van Dijk cleared her throat diffidently and gave Casmir an almost apologetic look. “He has friends and family that he’s close to.”

“Mm,” Jager said noncommittally.

Casmir’s blood turned to ice in his veins. He imagined Kim or his parents being hurt because these people thought he was holding back information that he wasn’t. A thousand protests threatened to erupt from his mouth, but he made himself close his eyes and take a steadying breath. As he’d long ago learned to be calm and rational with doctors, so he would have to be calm and rational here. He didn’t know these people well, but he doubted an emotional tirade would sway either of them.

“It sounds like I made a big mistake,” Casmir said, “in failing to anticipate some action that either the cargo ship, the AIs aboard it, or even some astroshaman ally in the system could have taken. There’s no need to threaten my family—or me. I ask that you give me an opportunity to fix it. I’ll find the ship and the gate, no matter where it might be.” His heart wilted at the idea of leaving Odin again, without even getting the opportunity to see his parents. By now, he even missed Simon and Asahi from work. “I have no objections to Asger or others being sent along to guard me. I’d welcome the assistance.”

“Asger was sent to guard you before,” Van Dijk said, “and he let you out of the brig and personally escorted you away from the Fleet in a private knight’s shuttle.”

“Technically, I was never in the brig,” Casmir said. “And my understanding was that Asger was sent to protect me, not imprison me.”

Van Dijk raised her eyebrows toward Jager.

Jager hitched a shoulder. “My wife sent him. She’s always had more invested in this one—” he flicked two fingers toward Casmir, “—than I.”

This one. Casmir made himself stand tall, but he felt how he imagined Qin often felt. Not a true human. A clone. Something cooked up in a scientist’s laboratory.

“Perhaps we should wait to consult her, Sire,” Van Dijk said. “Isn’t she due back tomorrow?”

Yes, if they could hold off on the torturing and threatening of friends and family until he had his meeting with the queen, Casmir would deeply appreciate that.

“I fear she may be biased and that it’s best to make this decision rationally and without emotion,” Jager said.

And so he called his wife emotional and irrational… From what Casmir had heard of the queen, he didn’t think that applied. But he admitted how little he knew about the royal family, and that all of his perceptions were colored by the media’s extensive filters. After all, he’d believed Oku to be pretty but useless with nothing better to do than spend the Kingdom’s money. He didn’t know what she was exactly, not yet, but he didn’t believe she was useless.

“It’s possible, Sire,” Van Dijk said neutrally.

“Please give me a chance.” Casmir spread his hands. “What do you have to lose? If you send people along with me, I can’t flee the system. Nor am I foolish enough to believe there’s anywhere to flee that would be safe from your wrath. The only two reasons I hesitated to turn over the gate were because it’s currently deadly to anyone who goes near it and doesn’t receive a very specialized treatment in time and because…” Casmir let himself meet Jager’s eyes for the first time—they were cool and green and seemed older than his face, a face that looked no more than forty or forty-five when Casmir knew the man was in his sixties. “Because I’d heard that the crushers I helped design for the defense of Odin were being used to attack a station in another system.”

Jager’s brows rose slightly. Mild surprise, not great surprise, Casmir judged. He’d heard about the attack if not ordered it himself. What seemed to surprise him was either that Casmir knew about it or that he cared.

“When I signed on to that project,” Casmir said, “I was explicitly told my robots would be for defending the Kingdom, for defending Odin, the only truly Earth-like planet in the Twelve Systems, and one that, they say, is coveted by all who don’t live here. I believed there was a need for that defense. I didn’t know there were plans to try to expand again. It was because of those plans that I was hesitant to hand such a powerful technology over to the military. I’d made that mistake once, and I was afraid of what would happen if I made it again.”

He half-expected them to point out that the gate was merely a means of transportation, not something for killing people, not like the crushers.

But Van Dijk snorted. “So you decided to make a different mistake instead?”

“Apparently so. I’ve been accused of being naive.”

“That I believe.” She glanced at Jager.

He was watching without comment. Observing Casmir while his Intelligence officer handled the questioning?

“As I said, I’m willing to risk my life to fix that mistake,” Casmir said.

“And bring the gate back here?” Jager pointed to the stone at his feet.

This time, Van Dijk’s eyebrows twitched in surprise. “Your Majesty, are you considering it? He would say anything to get out of here. And if he was out in space again, a little fast talking, and he could—”

Jager lifted his hand, and she stopped speaking.

Casmir held his breath, wanting out of his prison, but wondering if he was offering to get in bed with the devil. He’d refused an offer of employment with Rache. Would it be equally unwise to place himself in the king’s employment? To give his word to work for him?

But what other choice did he have? If he couldn’t prove himself a trustworthy Kingdom subject, he would either be killed or exiled. And once again, those he cared for seemed to be in danger because of him. He feared he’d simply have to hope for the best, hope the king wasn’t a monster, hope that there had been some provocation behind the crusher attack on Stribog Station, that it wasn’t simply the beginning of an attempt to make history repeat itself by extending the Kingdom’s rule over the entire Twelve Systems.

“You are correct,” Jager said. “It would be too easy for him to flee if he were out in space. And we haven’t yet determined whether the cargo ship escaped the system. I believe I would like Professor Dabrowski to prove himself before I consider giving him such autonomy.”

Jager’s gaze landed on Casmir again.

Casmir struggled not to squirm. Prove himself? In the drama vids, that was usually when people were asked to kill a loved one to prove their undying loyalty to the crown. But those were historical dramas. Nobody truly expected such things anymore, did they?

His eye blinked.

“We’ve been having trouble with the Black Stars terrorist organization,” Jager said. “You’ve heard of them?”

Van Dijk’s eyebrows twitched again, as if she had no idea where the king was going with this.

“I’ve heard of them,” Casmir said.

“They’ve been behind bombings around the planet, and they just bombed a synagogue in the city.”

“A synagogue?” Casmir whispered, thinking of his chavrusa buddies and family friends he’d known all his life.

“My city.” Jager growled, not hearing him. “These terrorists often send robots and drones. Sometimes, they send humans who don’t care if they throw their lives away—they simply poison themselves if they’re captured, before they can be questioned and we can find out where their bases or cells are located.”

Casmir nodded, shifting his thoughts to the man in the cargo hold who’d killed himself, though he vowed to find out more about this synagogue bombing as soon as possible. “I’ve seen this, yes. I assume you know they also want me dead for some reason.”

Surprise flickered in Jager’s eyes, and he looked at Van Dijk, who was already nodding.

“We believe they’re who sent the crushers after Dabrowski at Zamek University,” she said.

“Oh? Then he should have even more reason to pursue the mission I’m giving him. Perhaps too much to prove his loyalty to the crown…” Jager lowered his voice, as if speaking to himself. “No, this is better. Small steps.” He lifted his gaze and spoke to Casmir again. “These terrorists are like tacks littering the floor when you’re barefoot. We cannot have this unrest going on at home when there are other concerns requiring our attention in the rest of the systems. I will not deny that I have ambitions and have sought alliances with other habitats and worlds that seem amenable to returning to Kingdom rule, given the correct stipulations, but I am not a tyrant who seeks to displace governments and force people to live under my rule. We, Professor Dabrowski, are being used as scapegoats.”

Since the king was gazing into his eyes, Casmir allowed himself to gaze back, to try to determine if he was telling the truth. Jager had sounded most honest when he’d admitted to having ambitions. Casmir was less sure about the rest. Maybe it was the truth. Maybe it was a truth that Jager had talked himself into believing. Casmir had always thought himself decent at reading people, but it wasn’t as if Jager had some facial tic that hinted at lies.

His own eye blinked. He snorted inwardly.

“I am tasking you with finding the location of these terrorists, at least where their leaders are hiding out,” Jager said. “To strike as frequently as they do, they must either be on our world or somewhere nearby. As I said, they often send robots to attack, so perhaps you will have some insight that my regular analysts lack.” His lips thinned, and he looked at Van Dijk.

It wasn’t blatant censure, but her cheeks turned pink, and she clenched her jaw. Even if Jager hadn’t blamed her explicitly for being unable to find the terrorists, she must feel it her responsibility and that she was failing. Would she resent that someone else was being asked to help?

“That is possible, Your Majesty,” Casmir said, warming to the notion of helping the Kingdom find these people.

This would be far less morally ambiguous than recovering the gate for Jager. If he succeeded, it might lead to that task, but for now, it was a chance to do all he’d wanted since this mess got started. To find the people who were targeting him with his own crushers and convince them to stop. Admittedly, he’d envisioned doing that through words, a long chat with the leader, but if they were truly killing innocent civilians, he wasn’t against marking the base so the military could come in and do what it must.

That was all he’d ever wanted to do, to use his talents to protect people and make sure Odin remained the safe and beautiful place it was.

“I would be highly motivated to find and stop these terrorists,” Casmir added with heartfelt sincerity.

“Good,” Jager said.

Van Dijk frowned. “Are we just going to let him go, Your Majesty? He’s not going to work in my office, is he? Have command of some of my people?” She grimaced. “It wouldn’t be fair to force them to endure the flippancy of some untrained outsider.”

As Casmir debated whether he should take offense at her dismissal of his abilities to lead Intelligence officers, Jager lifted a placating hand toward her.

“Have no fear, Chief Superintendent. I intend nothing of the sort.” Jager’s green gaze locked onto Casmir. “If he’s half the man his genes suggest he should be, he will be able to do this on his own.”

Casmir stared at him. He was supposed to do what Van Dijk, all of her Intelligence officers, and however many knights were stationed here on Odin hadn’t been able to do?

“Er,” Van Dijk said, “we believe there are hundreds of terrorists, a huge secret base somewhere, dozens of cells they operate out of, and money and resources flowing in from powerful off-world connections.”

“Yes, I’ve read your reports.” Jager smiled at Casmir. It wasn’t a cruel smile, but it wasn’t a warm one either. Wry? Ironic? It was hard to tell. “My wife thinks I made a mistake with you. This is your chance to prove yourself in more ways than one.”

“Can I at least have Asger?” Casmir wondered if he could talk Bonita and Qin into helping again. If there was some secret base, it could be anywhere on the planet—or even up in orbit, using a stealth generator similar to the one he’d already encountered. It would be useful to have the Dragon to ferry him around. And Qin was always useful.

“Yes,” Jager said. “In fact, that’s perfect. He needs to prove himself as well, especially if he insists on trailing along after my daughter.” Jager sneered for the first time.

Casmir wondered if he should let Asger know that the king knew about his crush and didn’t approve. The princess hadn’t seemed inclined to reciprocate it, so maybe it didn’t matter. She was probably destined to some arranged marriage with a prince or emperor in another system. A lamentable thought, that.

Jager pressed a button on a control panel, and the wall of bars slid aside. For the first time, the armored guards, who’d been like statues throughout the conversation, stirred. Some dropped their hands to their rifles. Others glanced at each other, as if confused.

“Find the terrorists’ main base and send a signal to our soldiers so they can annihilate it,” Jager said, stepping aside and gesturing for Casmir to step out of the cell. “Do that, and I will give you the opportunity to retrieve the gate that you lost.”

Casmir again wondered about the wisdom of working for the king, but again doubted he had much choice. At least he could do this first task with a clear conscience.

In the corridor, Jager dropped a hand onto Casmir’s shoulder.

Casmir braced himself, expecting him to squeeze or make a threat. Jager was more than a half a foot taller than he was, and he looked strong and fit for his age. For any age.

“We needn’t be enemies, Casmir,” Jager said. “Accomplish these things for me—for the crown and your Kingdom—and we’ll discuss a position that would be suitable for you.”

Casmir licked his lips—his mouth was very dry. This reminded him uncomfortably of the offer Rache had made him, of employment among his mercenaries. He had prefaced that with the very similar, “We don’t need to be enemies.”

“Court roboticist?” Casmir asked.

Jager chuckled. “We’ll see. Believe it or not, I don’t insist that everyone around me agrees with me. I prefer people who speak plainly. It’s the ones who are always quick to agree that you have to watch out for, as they surely have secret motives.”

Van Dijk’s face was carefully neutral at the comment. It was probably her job to agree with everything the king ordered. Jager likely referred to nobles and those with positions in the Senate, people with the right by blood and history to argue with him without repercussions.

Jager dropped his hand and stepped aside so Casmir could head for the stairs. “Escort him out, Van Dijk.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Should I give him anything?” She looked him up and down. “A weapon, at least?”

Casmir would have settled for his shoes and his tool satchel.

“No,” Jager said. “His wits should suffice.”

Casmir remembered proclaiming to Bonita once that he was armed with his wits. She hadn’t been impressed.

10

Sunlight streamed through the cargo hatchway the next morning when Qin and Bonita opened it for their visitor. A man in a blue and black suit with four shimmering tails swishing and swirling in the air behind him rode toward them on a sleek gold air bike. The Kingdom Guards—a new shift of them—watched indifferently as he entered the facility.

The guards on duty the night before had glared sternly at Qin when Asger escorted her back to the ship, but thanks to his presence, they hadn’t said anything about her sneaking off. He hadn’t explained it to them, but they hadn’t presumed to question a knight. Asger had left after seeing her to the ship, the foil from the explosive held carefully between thumb and forefinger as he headed off to report to his superiors.

The man on the bike brought it to a halt, placed it in park, and dismounted. His tails continued to swirl in the air behind him, more like something attached to an animal than pieces of fabric. He removed a helmet, hung it on a handlebar, grabbed a silver briefcase, and walked toward them.

He was a middle-aged man with brown skin and wavy black hair, and his eyes seemed to be ocular prostheses, similar to real eyes in appearance, but slightly more reflective. Had he been born blind? If so, maybe that was why he’d gotten into a medical-equipment business.

“Baron Denji Takahashi?” Bonita started to stick out a hand for a clasp but shifted to a bow, which seemed to be favored among Kingdom subjects.

“Yes. Call me Denji.” He returned the bow. “And yes, I’m related to the queen, and no, I can’t get you an audience.”

Qin found the comment bewildering—she hadn’t known the queen’s maiden name and wouldn’t have assumed a relationship, regardless.

Bonita straightened. “No problem. I doubt she wants medical-bandage vending machines.”

“But I do, and if you are truly the rightful owner of the patent, I’m prepared to negotiate for it and for all research, schematics, data, etcetera, etcetera relating to it.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you the rightful owner? You said Professor Dabrowski gave it to you, but my understanding is that you don’t have any notarized documentation.”

“No, the professor and I have been busy eluding mercenaries, pirates, and killer robots. We haven’t spent much time in the company of, uh, notarizers.” Bonita looked at Qin, as if questioning if that was the correct term.

As if Qin would know. She was only here to be the muscle.

“A Kingdom notary public would be the appropriate person,” Denji said dryly. “In lieu of notarized documentation, I will need to speak with Professor Dabrowski and record an oral transferring of the rights. You said you’ve been traveling with him?”

“Yes, but he’s currently…” Bonita looked toward the castle, the top half of the sprawling stone structure visible from the air harbor. “Detained.”

Denji’s lips pinched together.

“Maybe you can go see him in the castle,” Qin suggested. “If you know the queen.”

“She’s my second cousin. I’m actually on better terms with her daughter, Princess Oku, but it would be deemed somewhat strange if I visited her without bringing botany equipment for her greenhouse lab. What do you mean, exactly, detained?” He frowned at Bonita.

“Uhm.”

Qin caught a familiar person’s scent on the breeze and leaned outside to spot Casmir walking across the pavement in socks, wearing the same rumpled T-shirt and black trousers he’d been in two days ago. Except that they were more rumpled. And so was he.

“Captain?” Qin pointed.

Casmir wore a worried, distracted expression, as if he was reading some news on his contacts. Maybe he’d already heard about the bombing.

Bonita spotted him, gawked, and then spread her arms in a far warmer welcome than she’d ever given him. “Casmir! El Mago!”

“El what?” Qin asked.

“El Mago. The wizard. Robot whisperer was too much of a mouthful.”

A faint refrain of Viggo’s favorite opera played on the speakers. It was the one the vacuums liked to work to, at least according to Viggo.

Casmir appeared bemused by the spread arms, but he waved agreeably as he ambled up the ramp. “Hello, Laser, Qin. Gentleman with a beautiful Model 87 air bike.”

“Baron Denji Takahashi.” The man bowed. “You’re Professor Dabrowski?” He considered Casmir’s dirty socks. “I’d heard you were quirky.”

“Is that my reputation in the world these days? Huh.”

“Is it not your reputation in the robotics community?” Qin asked.

“Oh, it is. I just didn’t know it had spread.” Casmir grinned and patted her on the arm.

“Mr. Takahashi is here from Kendo Equipment Manufacturing,” Bonita said. “He is related to the queen but can’t get you an audience.”

“That’s all right. I’ve already had my expectations of an audience with the queen sufficiently dashed.”

“I’m here to possibly make an offer on Patent Number 183794729-b,” Denji said. “You filed it, Professor. And this lady says you gave it to her.”

“That’s true. In exchange for space fare and food.”

“She doesn’t have any notarized documentation.”

“No?” Casmir raised his eyebrows at Bonita. “Did you explain the pirates and mercenaries?”

“And the killer robots,” Bonita said. “I tried.”

“If you’ll allow me to make a recording,” Denji said, “we can formalize everything now and begin negotiations.”

Qin thought Casmir might ask for a shower or food first—shoes, perhaps—but he nodded and said, “Happy to.”

As he, Bonita, and Denji headed into the ship, the music increased in volume and two dozen robot vacuums whirred out of the ship’s nooks and crannies to zip around Casmir’s feet.

Denji gaped.

“It is good to have you back, Casmir,” Viggo’s voice came from the speakers.

“Thank you, Viggo. Do you have anything that needs repairing or fine-tuning?”

“There is a rattle in my primary engine housing that developed during our last landing.”

“I’ll look at it as soon as I’ve helped Laser.”

“Excellent. The robots can direct you to the spot when you’re ready.”

Bonita sighed and shook her head. “Definitely El Mago.”

Qin remained at the cargo hatch, in part because she didn’t know anything about negotiating for patents, and in part because she feared a legion of law enforcement officers would soon race across the pavement, intending to drag Casmir back to the dungeon. He had the look of an escaped prisoner. If he’d been let go, wouldn’t they have returned his shoes to him?

Only a single man strode toward the Dragon. Asger.

He was as handsome as ever, but there were uncharacteristic bags under his eyes, and he didn’t look like he’d slept.

“Qin.” He nodded once as he climbed the ramp. “Is Casmir here?”

“He just arrived.”

Asger’s mouth twisted. “I’ve been assigned to protect, guard, and spy on him again.”

“You object?”

“Maybe not. The verbal orders I received from my superior were somewhat vague, but my understanding is that we’re going to find the terrorists. The people who bombed the synagogue last night, the people who’ve been attacking other targets on Odin, and the people who—Royal Intelligence believes—are trying to keep the Kingdom distracted by troubles at home so we don’t pay much attention to the crimes being committed in our name throughout the systems.”

“I would definitely like to help stop the people who bombed that building last night.”

“Good. We’ll need help. I’m confused about the why, but apparently, only Casmir and I have been given this responsibility. Even though a dozen knights and countless Kingdom Guards and Royal Intelligence agents have been trying to stop these people for the last two months. Without success.”

His lips shifted into another position, his expression one she hadn’t seen on him before.

“Are you… daunted?” Qin guessed.

“Of course. Shouldn’t I be?”

“The myths and legends don’t mention knights being daunted.”

“I guess we’re supposed to hide that under our cloaks.” His smile was fleeting. “I need to talk to Casmir.”

“You’ll have to get in line.”

“Behind whom?”

“A chief executive officer who’s related to the queen but can’t get you an audience and Viggo’s robots.”

“Casmir’s popularity knows no bounds.”

Asger waited by the hatch with Qin, showing a new willingness to answer questions—she asked him about how one became a knight and what kind of training they did. She didn’t know what had made him decide to look at her instead of through her or away from her, but she was encouraged by the change. She started to regret that she’d wished his balls would wither up, fall off into the toilet, and be flushed into space and sucked into a black hole. Fortunately, she hadn’t voiced those words to him. Kim had received that diatribe. And she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would gossip it back to Asger.

After a half hour, Bonita, Denji, and Casmir returned to the cargo hold. Casmir patted Denji on the back as they ambled toward the hatch. Casmir was still in socks. Did he even have any backup shoes? During their time in space, Qin had only seen him in the one set of pants and a T-shirt. If he borrowed one of Bonita’s galaxy suits again, at least he would have use of the boots. And some protection if a random terrorist tried to shoot him on the streets.

“Of course, I’ll make myself available should you have any questions once you get ready to begin manufacturing,” Casmir said. “I’m hoping my new, uhm, project for the crown won’t keep me too busy. But message me whatever you need, and I’ll prioritize answering you.”

“You’re working for the crown now?” Denji didn’t sound that surprised.

“I’m applying for the position of court roboticist.”

Denji paused at the top of the cargo ramp. “I’ve been to the castle for a few functions, and I don’t remember a representative from that position.”

“That’s because it doesn’t exist yet. It’s a long story. I’m hoping it will work out favorably.” Casmir’s face twisted into a strange expression that seemed to all at once be wistful, optimistic, and terrified.

Denji didn’t seem to know quite what to make of it, but he bowed and said, “I’ll wish you luck, then. Like her daughter, the queen is a scientist by training, though the media portrays her only as a smiling benefactor who hands out blankets to the poor. You may find that she would be the one most receptive to an application for such a position.”

“Oh, I’d very much like to see her and ask about it one day.” Casmir lifted a hand, as if to wave farewell, but he halted mid-motion. “Denji, I know you said you can’t arrange audiences, but do you by chance have a contact code, either for the queen or the princess, that might be used to send a packet of schematics?”

“Schematics?”

“I’ve been working on a robot bee project that I think the princess might find interesting. Or utterly appalling but practical. I fear it would never be seen if I sent it to one of the general castle correspondence addresses.”

“Robot bee project?” Qin mouthed to Asger.

Asger met her eyes and shrugged back.

“Ah.” Denji tapped his lips. “That actually does sound like something that would interest the princess. And the queen. She originally studied as a botanist, you know.”

“I didn’t know that,” Casmir said, though Asger nodded. He seemed to have more of a relationship with the queen.

“Forward the message to me, and I’ll send it along to them,” Denji said.

Casmir brightened. “I will. Thank you.”

“What are the robot bees for?” Bonita stepped up to Casmir’s side as Denji strode down to his air bike.

“Pollinating flowers, of course, though I think the challenge of creating robots that could also make honey would be enjoyable to work on. Gathering nectar and pollen is a mechanical process, of course, but my understanding is that there are enzymes and proteins in the bee’s stomach that break down the complex sugars in the flower nectar before it’s stored in honeycomb cells. It’s certainly not impossible to use mechanical means to replicate biological processes, but it’s not easy.”

Bonita looked at Qin, with a similar expression to the one Qin had given Asger.

“Asger,” Casmir said, his tone graver. “I need to go on an errand. Will you accompany me, please?”

“It’s my understanding that I’ll be accompanying you everywhere for some time.”

“Working for the crown comes with onerous obligations, doesn’t it?”

“You’re only just beginning to find out.”

They headed down the ramp, and Qin raised her eyebrows toward Bonita, curious how the meeting had gone. It had sounded promising.

“We’re selling Casmir’s patent.” Bonita nodded firmly. “For fifty thousand crowns.”

“That’s good, right? It’s as much as you would have been paid for that bioweapon, and it will help people.”

“People in need of bandages without quick access to a medical facility, yes. And fifty thousand is enough to be useful. It’s a lot more than I expected to get, honestly. Now, I can pay you your last two months’ wages, and we can attempt to negotiate with the Druckers for your freedom.”

“Thank you, Captain, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to share your money with me—and definitely not with them.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Are we leaving soon?” Qin didn’t manage to keep the alarm out of her voice.

She wanted to stay and help Casmir and talk more about knights with Asger. Casmir hadn’t told them yet what exactly he was up to—the wry way he’d said court roboticist made it sound like a half-truth, at most—but Qin was sure he was still in danger. He had to be. All those people wanted that gate, and only he knew where it was.

“Not for a few days. As Casmir suggested, I negotiated for something else as well.” Bonita flexed one of her legs. “And it’ll take some time for contracts to be drawn up and for everything to be signed and made official. I don’t want to fly off until I see the money sitting in my account.”

“Understandable.” Qin smiled, relieved, though she didn’t know how much Casmir would resolve in the next few days. She also didn’t know where Bonita planned to head next, but Qin feared that in other systems, she would be more likely to run into bounty hunters and opportunists trying to collect her for the Druckers’ reward.

Maybe it was a delusion, but she sensed that here, she would be less likely to encounter such people. The Kingdom seemed isolated from the rest of the systems. And it had that beautiful park.

She supposed it was silly to wish to stay here so she could run through the trees again. It wasn’t as if she had the freedom to move about without people shouting freak at her. If she hadn’t had Asger at her side the night before, she would have been arrested, even though she’d been helping. The little boy giving her the robot doll had been sweet, but she had a feeling it would be naive to think she could ever have a life someplace like this. No matter how beautiful the trees were.

* * *

Automated tractors pushed rubble into neat piles as the warm sun beat down, glinting off their metallic bodies. Casmir thought thunder and rainstorms would have been more appropriate for the situation. Asger had explained what it had been like at the synagogue the night before, and Casmir wasn’t sure if he was relieved the injured and dead had all been removed, or if he felt guilty that he hadn’t been here to help. This wasn’t the place where his family worshipped, but he’d been here several times for special ceremonies, and he knew a number of those who’d gone to the hospital after the bombing.

…and the Kaganovichs, their little girl came out of the ICU this morning, bless the family. The Marshaks are unaccounted for. We’re praying they were simply out of town and will respond as soon as they’re able. You know they enjoy their camping trips. Casmir, this is so dreadful. Do you know if the king plans to do anything?

No, Mother, he replied to the text scrolling down his contact, finally having the opportunity to catch up with his family this afternoon. We didn’t become close while he was questioning me. But he has assigned me to find the terrorists and guide the Kingdom Guard to them, and I intend to do so.

Casmir spotted a child’s purse left among the wreckage, and he clenched his fist. He would have taken this assignment whether the king had wished it or not. This was despicable. Who would attack innocent civilians? And why? To get at him? If it was directed toward him, why not bomb the synagogue his family attended? He hoped it had nothing to do with him, that the synagogue had been chosen over the other religious buildings on the bluff because it had been at the end and an easier target.

“As usual,” he muttered, wiping his eyes.

You know I want these awful people brought to justice, or at least removed from our world, but why are you involved, Casmir? I don’t understand. And why can’t you comm me? And come to dinner tonight?

I don’t want to endanger you and Father. I told you. Casmir had been going back and forth with his mother for over an hour. He was glad to finally have a chance to speak with her, even if by text message, but he needed to focus on figuring out his new assignment, and he feared he might have to start filing away her notes for later. Until after he’d come up with… He didn’t know what yet. Something.

He gazed toward the ocean and the street out front.

Asger leaned against one of the still-standing walls, alternating between watching him and watching their surroundings. With Zee still with Kim—he had sent her a message earlier to let her know he was all right, but he hadn’t heard back from her yet—he was counting on Asger to protect him if crushers showed up. What he hadn’t admitted to Asger was that he wanted crushers to show up.

If they didn’t, he would spend the next couple of days sifting through all the university and public databases to gather as much information on the Black Stars as he could, but he had to assume that the Royal Intelligence office had all the information that was out there and then some. It was almost unbelievable that they couldn’t locate a terrorist headquarters—or even a network of cells—on their own planet. Casmir, suspecting the Black Stars had some high-tech method of hiding themselves, needed to try something the Intelligencers hadn’t. Or weren’t able to. If he could intercept and nullify a crusher—a daunting task, especially without Zee here to help—maybe he could hack into its programming and find the location of its home base.

It wouldn’t be easy. He and his team at the military research lab had made it difficult for them to be hacked. Zee was keyed to a code that could only be transmitted by Casmir’s chip. He’d done that at Zee’s creation. If the terrorists had stolen crushers from the lab, units that hadn’t yet been keyed to someone, they may have been able to take control that way. It would have taken a talented programmer though. Did Royal Intelligence know that? That they should be looking for a programming expert, probably one with experience in robotics?

I don’t understand why you’re being targeted, Casmir, his mother messaged.

I don’t understand yet either. It’s one of the things I have to find out.

You haven’t done anything wrong!

Casmir let his head fall back, his vision blurring as seagulls wheeled overhead. Hadn’t he? He’d helped create the crushers. And now they’d blown up—or assisted in blowing up—a synagogue, and they’d attacked a station in another system. What evil would they do next?

He didn’t think they were the reason a terrorist organization would target him, but he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he owed it to the universe to try to atone for what he’d helped cause.

I went by your house, his mother added. Almost all of Kim’s plants are dead. Where is she? Is she all right? Is she being targeted too? Does she need to come stay with us?

I don’t think so, Mother. But I’ll let her know you’re offering. Casmir smiled faintly. You should stay away from the house, though, as long as I’m a target. It makes me nervous knowing that you’re in the same apartment that I grew up in.

It’s not like bad guys wouldn’t be able to find us, dear. Your father and I have worked at the same places for almost that long.

I know. Just don’t take any unnecessary risks, please. Such as standing outside a recently bombed synagogue, waiting to be targeted, he thought but did not send.

Casmir, I looked in your closet. Your clothes are all there.

I know, Mother. There was a crusher in my house, so we couldn’t go inside to gather luggage before leaving the planet. Casmir was somewhat heartened that it didn’t sound like anything more egregious had happened to the house than the dead plants. He knew Kim was worried about her books.

Do you mean to tell me you’ve been wearing the same clothes for two months? The same pair of underwear? Casmir!

Our ship has laundering facilities, Mother.

Even the most well-made clothing is not meant for daily use.

Casmir poked a finger into a hole that had developed near the hem of his shirt. It was true. Especially if one was wearing normal clothing, not anything with a SmartWeave.

Do you need me to send you new underwear?

No, Mother.

You didn’t go to the castle—to see the king!—in holey underwear, did you?

Now that I’m back on Odin, I can order my own underwear, Mother. Thank you.

You did see him in holey underwear!

He wasn’t there for the strip search. Unless his guards file extremely thorough reports, he is still in the dark when it comes to my undergarments. Casmir spotted Asger walking his way. I need to get to work, Mother. I thank you for the concern. Now that I’m back in the city, I shall replace my failing garments posthaste. There’s no need to send more. Thank you.

“Are you all right, Casmir?” Asger asked.

“Yes.”

“You’ve been standing in the open and staring at the sky with a distressed look on your face.”

“Well, I was talking to my mother.” Casmir left it at that and didn’t mention the underwear conversation.

“That explains the distressed look, but why are you in the middle of the square? You’re an easy target.”

“I was kind of hoping for that. That the terrorists would realize I’m here and send a crusher.”

“I see you want to make my tenure as a bodyguard simple and painless.”

“You’re not a bodyguard; Zee is a bodyguard. You are my amazingly talented, strong, and conveniently armed and armored ally.” Casmir smiled and patted him on the arm.

Asger arched a single eyebrow. “It’s amazing that you can say something like that without sounding sarcastic.”

“It’s because I’m not sarcastic. Look, I’m trying to turn myself into bait, because it’s clear that they want me. I’d really like to get my hands on, if not a crusher, some other robot or drone the terrorists have used. I don’t suppose there’s anything in the Royal Intelligence evidence rooms that might qualify?”

“I’ll check.” Asger started to turn away, but he turned back, put his hand on Casmir’s shoulder, and guided him into a doorway. “At least consider being bait from behind partial cover.”

“Yes, I will. Very good advice. Thank you.”

Asger squinted at him, as if still searching for sarcasm. Casmir spread his hands. He genuinely appreciated that Asger had been assigned to him and that Asger had been willing to be assigned to him. It wouldn’t have surprised him if some other young knight had appeared at the ship that morning, claiming that Sir Asger was too busy for this mission.

Casmir, a message came in from Kim, are you out of the dungeon?

I am! Did you get my message this morning?

Yes, just now. Along with several messages from your mother, showing distress that you left home without packing sufficiently.

She didn’t mention my lack of underwear, did she?

Repeatedly. The lab where I’m working doesn’t allow outside communication, so they all dumped in at once when I walked out.

That doesn’t sound like your usual lab.

No, I’m a quasi-prisoner of Royal Intelligence while working on refining my new strain of bacteria.

I hope you weren’t spending your nights in a dungeon cell adjacent to mine without me knowing it.

No, they’re letting me stay at my mother’s apartment. With Zee and two bodyguards instructed to protect me while keeping me from wandering off.

Sounds stifling. Casmir peeked out from behind his wall in case any nefarious robots were advancing through the square, but only the same rubble-clearing tractors whirred and ground about.

Asger, who was back to leaning against a wall with his arms folded over his chest, glared at him until he leaned back behind cover.

It could be worse, but, yes, it is stifling. Rache came to visit last night.

Casmir reflexively stepped back, appalled. His heel clipped a heavy stone, and he pitched to the ground.

Asger lunged forward, yanking his pertundo from his belt with one hand while covering Casmir protectively as he squinted into the shadowy interior of the synagogue.

“What happened?” Asger whispered. “Were you shot?”

“No, sorry.”

“Sorry you weren’t shot?”

“Sorry I made you think I was.” Casmir rubbed his back while messaging, What do you mean Rache visited you? Like he commed you on his way out of the system or he showed up in your apartment like a creepy stalker? Out loud, he said, “Kim sent me some startling news. I’m waiting for clarification.”

Asger hauled Casmir to his feet and pushed him toward the wall again. “It must have been extremely startling.”

“You have no idea.”

He came in person. To bring the espresso maker and coffee beans he promised me.

And you let him in?

He was already there when I arrived. Adorning my mother’s balcony with his all-black ensemble.

Kim! That’s definitely creepy stalker-ish.

It was fine. He wasn’t any creepier than usual.

That’s not a relief!

He didn’t do anything. Calm down. But I wanted you to know he’s on the planet.

Casmir rocked back, this time without falling over, as he realized why Rache would be here on Odin. Maybe nothing to do with stalking, after all. At least not stalking Kim. Did he ask you where to find me? Or ask you about the location of the gate? Kim, I’m so sorry.

I expected him to, but he didn’t. He just left the coffee, looked at my mother’s bookshelf, and asked if I wanted him to redeem the favor he said he owed me.

Owed you? Because you kept his men from dying?

Yes.

Casmir bit his lip. He was somewhat heartened by the idea that Rache might actually care whether his mercenaries lived or died, but he was also suspicious. What if it was a ploy? What if Rache thought he could track Kim to Casmir? Not that he was that hard to find at the moment.

I suspect he can find you on his own, Kim added. He found me at my mother’s apartment easily enough. Keep an eye out.

I will. I… Wait, did you ask him for anything? To redeem that favor?

No. I prefer he owe me a favor rather than the other way around.

Uhm, any chance you’re willing to abandon that stance? After all, if he believes he owes you a favor, and he redeems it, you’d just be even, right? You wouldn’t then owe him a favor. You shouldn’t be entering into some weird reciprocal bequest-granting relationship.

There was a long pause. Kim, Casmir was positive, knew him well enough to guess where he was going.

What do you want me to ask him, Casmir?

He once said in an offhand manner that the people trying to kill me would be more likely to hire him than try to kill him. Presumably because he’s blatantly and brazenly anti-Kingdom. As are they.

You want me to ask him to try to get hired by them?

Yes, can you? And then Asger and I will tag along with him for the job interview.

Another long pause. It was amazing how often even his good friends had to stop to digest his brain’s utterings.

This made perfect sense to him. Rache could be the one lead open to him that wasn’t open to Royal Intelligence. Technically, it was a lead open to Kim. If she was willing to make the request. And if Rache was willing to go along with it. How obligated did he feel to grant her favor?

That sounds like something that might damage his reputation and ability to gain employment in the future, Kim finally replied. He may not feel that indebted to me.

Exactly what Casmir had been thinking, but he couldn’t resist trying to sell it further. This would be much more desirable than waiting to be attacked by enemy crushers and hoping in vain that they could capture and reprogram one.

Didn’t you save his doctor and his engineering chief? Those are super important people. Do you know how hard it must be to find a surgeon willing to forego his cushy hospital life to service mercenaries on a ship wanted by the law in nine out of twelve systems? Casmir didn’t know if Rache was truly wanted dead in that many places, but he had met Rache twice now, and could certainly imagine the scenario.

I’m skeptical that he’s going to be willing to do this, Kim replied, but I will ask.

He sensed her reluctance, even through text messages, and debated if he truly needed to ask Kim to beg a favor of Rache.

Wait. What if you just ask him to join you for dinner somewhere? Casmir imagined watching Rache lift up his mask just enough to pop food into his mouth and then lower it again. What a weirdo. And then I’ll show up and ask him for help myself.

Casmir, the first time you met him, you almost blew him up. The second time, you locked him in an escape pod and jettisoned him.

So… you don’t think he’ll be willing to help me?

I think you’re in danger of him strangling you as soon as he learns where you hid the gate. Or as a tactic in order to learn where you hid the gate.

Casmir grimaced, since he didn’t have information on the gate’s whereabouts any longer. He was still kicking himself over whatever consequence he’d failed to foresee. He wondered if one of the king’s people would update him if they learned the cargo ship had flown out of the system.

I’ll tell him what we’d like, Kim said, and invite him to a planning meeting somewhere in town. No, wait. I’m still stuck here with these bodyguards. It would have to be…

Your mother’s apartment? We’ll be there to make sure he doesn’t stalk you creepily. Tell him it’s a dinner, and I’ll arrange for food to be brought. I’ll bring Asger and maybe Qin and Bonita if they can be talked into helping us.

Did Rache have a shuttle of his own down here that he could use to fly them to wherever the terrorist headquarters was? Or had he come down on public transportation? Casmir couldn’t imagine the Fedallah getting close to Odin, even with its slydar stealth technology.

Not pizza and pot stickers.

That’s not the only delivery food in the capital.

It’s the only delivery food I’ve seen you order.

That’s because pizza and pot stickers are the perfect pairing. My gaming buddies all agree. But I’ve been to fancy fundraising dinners before, so I know about gourmet food. I’ll contact a caterer. Casmir hoped he could afford a caterer. Fortunately, he had some money in his bank account and access to it once again—he’d been nervous that morning when he had, for the first time since returning, tried to use his chip to buy a bottle of fizzop from a robot vendor. But it had worked. Apparently, the bank hadn’t cared that he’d gone MIA for two months, and nobody had decided he was criminal enough, at least here on Odin, to order his account locked.

When do you want to do this? Kim asked.

As soon as possible. Tonight, if you can arrange it.

Don’t show up if you can’t talk Asger into coming. And I’ll make sure Zee is in the apartment instead of outside.

Should I be concerned that you think Rache is going to strangle me?

Yes.

Don’t worry. I’ll be charming. Should I bring him a gift? I should. Mother says you’re always supposed to bring gifts to dinner parties. Technically, for the host or hostess, but it also seems wise to appease an angry pirate with overtures of friendship.

What kind of gift would charm a mercenary captain? Guns? Daggers? Oil for his cybernetic bits?

Casmir snorted at the idea, though he suspected he’d only get himself strangled more quickly if he handed Rache a can of spray lubricant.

I was thinking of a stack of first-edition comic books. After all, he’s like me, right?

Nobody is like you, Casmir.

Thank you.

This is going to be an interesting dinner.

Yes. I’ll start inviting my half of the guest list. Let me know when Rache confirms.

“Casmir?” Asger asked warily. He hadn’t been privy to any of the conversation, but he must have read something on Casmir’s face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing this weird grin. I’m going to assume you’re not talking with your mother again.”

“Nope. I’m plotting and scheming.”

“I was afraid it might be something like that.”

Casmir patted his shoulder. “What are you doing for dinner tonight?”

11

Kim eyed the place settings and the mishmash of chairs, worried everything was positioned too closely together around the round table, especially if Asger and Qin were coming. They had shoulders capable of knocking down trees. Casmir and Rache wouldn’t take up as much physical room, but Rache and his black clothing—and his aura—might prompt the others to scoot their chairs away. And Bonita, with her sore knees, might constantly be flexing her legs under the table and bumping other people and the pedestal.

Unfortunately, the round table was all the apartment offered. Kim doubted her mother had been thinking about entertaining hordes of people when she’d ordered the furniture. She’d had to drag in two patio chairs to have enough seats for everyone.

“Why did I agree to this?” she muttered.

“There is an Old Earth saying,” Zee said from the spot he’d taken up just inside the door, “that it is good to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“I see Casmir programmed you with his wit.”

The crusher spoke so seldom that it always surprised her when he did.

Kim adjusted the place settings slightly to put hers closer to Rache. She’d spent the most time with him and was probably least likely to be put off by his black aura. It was either that or sit in Asger’s lap, and her aversion to touching would never permit that.

The doorbell rang, and she shook her head. At the least, it would be good to see Casmir again. She’d been more than a little worried he would end up moldering in the dungeon for months—or be shot outright. She was curious about the details of whatever deal he’d struck with the king.

When she opened the door, Casmir stood between her two bodyguards, his arms laden with boxes. Qin, Asger, and Bonita were strung out down the hallway beyond him.

“Should we demand to search those?” one of the guards was asking. “We’re supposed to protect Scholar Sato from assassins, terrorists, and short shifty people with boxes.”

“That can’t be on your orders,” Casmir said, his voice muffled with his lips almost pressed against one of those boxes. “And I’m not short. I’m average height for a male without any gorilla genes in his ancestry.”

The guard’s brow furrowed, as if he was trying to decide if that was an insult. As Kim had noted before, she hadn’t been given the shiniest drabonbon melons in the Kingdom Guard harvest.

“No objection to being called shifty?” Kim asked.

“Not really. I’ve been doing all kinds of scheming today. I can’t wait to share my ideas with you.” His eyes—they were all she could see of his face—crinkled madly.

“You just want to search the boxes,” the other guard said, “because that middle one is from a chocolatier.”

“Yes, that box looks especially suspicious. All foods should be tested before Scholar Sato eats them.”

“She’s not the queen, and you’re not the court taster.”

The guard prodded the chocolate box. “I could be.”

“I’ll just take these inside,” Casmir said, shuffling past them.

The hungry guard lifted a hand, as if to stop him, but Asger stepped forward, wearing his gray liquid armor and his purple cloak.

“Nothing is going to be tested,” Asger said. “Scholar Sato wouldn’t be so foolish as to invite dangerous guests to her dinner party.”

Kim almost choked, imagining Rache using his jet boots to fly up to her balcony even as they spoke.

“Yes, Sir Knight.” The guard backed off and resumed his official stance beside the door, though he did watch the chocolate box disappear into the apartment with longing in his eyes.

“What is all this, Casmir?” Kim took a couple of the boxes as she waved everyone inside. “Not all comic books, surely.”

“Not all, no.” He smiled, set the rest of the gift boxes on a bookcase, then spread his arms in invitation.

Kim hesitated, not sure they needed to hug twice in two months.

Casmir only smiled wider and stepped forward and hugged… Zee.

“Zee, buddy, I missed you!” He patted the hulking crusher on the back. He looked like a kid standing next to the construct, his cheek only reaching Zee’s torso.

The crusher patted him on the head. “It is pleasing to see my creator. And it is easier for me to protect Kim Sato and Casmir Dabrowski when they are in the same area.”

“I aim to make life easier on my bodyguards,” Casmir said, stepping back.

Asger coughed loudly and throatily. He either objected to the statement or a bird had flown down his throat.

Bonita and Qin came in last, shutting the door behind them. Bonita locked it. Casmir must have warned her about who else was joining them. Kim wondered if they meant to keep Rache out or ensure the guards didn’t come in and witness his presence. It wasn’t as if he used the front door.

“This is for you, Kim.” Casmir slid out the chocolate box and handed it to Kim. “And also this.” A second box went on top of the first.

“Because of your mother’s policy of bringing gifts for the hostess?”

“Exactly. My mother is a wise woman.”

“El Mago is especially pleased with her since she sent him clothes today,” Bonita said.

“El-what?” Kim asked.

“It’s Laser’s new nickname for me,” Casmir said. “And, yes, while I was shopping for you and Rache—online, of course, as, pending the successful implementation of this plan, I’ll no longer need to appear in public places as bait—my mother was shopping for me. She went to the house, you see, and in addition to being concerned that I hadn’t packed clothing before leaving the planet, she decided that the garden of my wardrobe had been insufficiently tended these past years.”

“The garden of your wardrobe?” Kim asked. “Did she say that or did you?”

“She might have said that it looked like a garden had fallen onto my wardrobe. I forgot to do laundry before going to work that morning, and after two months of sitting in a rumpled hamper…”

“Maybe I’m glad we haven’t been permitted to return to the house.”

Casmir nodded ruefully. “Oh, and in case she asks… we didn’t have a dinner party tonight without inviting my parents.”

“Naturally not.”

“I keep telling her I can’t make it to dinner because I don’t want to endanger them.”

“Yes, it’s thoughtful of you to save the endangerment for me.”

He smiled, but anguish flashed in his eyes, and Kim wished she hadn’t made the joke. She knew he regretted that her life had been turned upside down because of her association with him.

“It’s all right.” Kim hefted her box. “You brought me chocolates, so I can forgive any recent disruption to my routine.”

“The chocolates are covering espresso beans.”

“Really?” She lifted the box with keener interest and read the print on the side next to the pictures. “Shade-grown gourmet espresso beans enrobed in rich truffled dark chocolate.”

“When you said this would be catered,” Bonita said, “enrobed coffee beans wasn’t quite what I imagined.”

“They’re fantastic,” Casmir said. “You’ll love them. If Kim shares.”

Kim clutched the box to her chest, thoughts of sharing far from her mind.

“We might want to use these for dinner.” Casmir gave her the second box. “They’re little espresso cups.”

“It seems Casmir believes we’ll need to be alert tonight.” Asger was walking around the small apartment and peering into rooms and under furniture.

Not, Kim realized, examining her belongings—technically, her mother’s belongings—but looking for intruders. Rache.

“He hasn’t made his appearance yet,” Kim said, walking into the little kitchen. “But someone could open the balcony door for when he does.”

“The balcony? Is that his natural milieu?” Asger asked. “Like a potted plant?”

“More like the creeping kudzu at the air harbor on Forever Nine,” Bonita said, “that grows up over your parked freighter and swallows it whole while you’re bartering for supplies.”

“Who wants a beverage?” Kim called, not wanting Rache to appear as people were insulting him. “There’s water, wine, and fizzop. And I can make coffee.”

Hopefully, the selection she had ordered sufficed. Casmir had promised to have food delivered, but she’d assumed people would want beverages. She’d never hosted a dinner party and hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was supposed to do beyond ensuring people did not go thirsty or hungry. Having people over for social gatherings was well outside her comfort zone, and she already felt the apartment distressingly full of people.

She reminded herself that these were all acquaintances, if not outright friends, and she didn’t need to worry about failing to perform adequately in a social capacity. They already knew her, for the most part. And Casmir would likely talk throughout the meal and ensure she didn’t have to carry a conversation.

“What kind of grown adults drink fizzop?” Asger asked.

“Short, shifty ones,” Casmir said. “One for me, please, Kim.”

“I like it too,” Qin admitted so softly Kim almost missed it.

“Oh.” Asger sounded apologetic, like he’d only meant to tease Casmir.

Qin shrugged as Kim stepped out with the bottles in hand.

“My metabolism is fast,” Qin said. “It’s helpful sometimes to drink calorically dense beverages.”

“And who doesn’t like bubbles tickling their tongue?” Casmir winked.

As Kim was about to set down the bottles, the curtain stirred, and Rache stepped into the apartment. All in black, including hood, mask, and gloves, he faced Casmir right away, his hand resting on one of two DEW-Tek pistols holstered at his belt.

Kim tensed, worried he’d only accepted the dinner invitation so he could capture Casmir. She clunked the bottles down, ready to spring at him and try to keep him from firing. Zee also spotted the threat and stomped into place in front of Casmir.

Everybody stared at Rache. Asger’s face was like a glacier. Bonita’s expression wasn’t any warmer. Qin vacillated between terror and aggression as she gripped the edge of the table, her claws digging into the wood.

Panic sparked in Kim’s brain as she feared she’d made a huge mistake. She’d invited Rache to dinner and told him Casmir would be there, only because she hadn’t wanted him to feel blindsided by Casmir and whatever scheme he proposed, but she hadn’t made him promise to come in peace. Now she wished she’d emphasized that no weapons would be allowed.

“Rache!” Casmir stepped out from behind Zee and waved cheerfully. “I’m glad you made it out of that escape pod. I assumed your people would come to collect you, but I wasn’t positive how much they loved you. It could have been an opportune moment for a mutiny. You know, from their perspective.”

Casmir headed for the bookcase holding the boxes, seemingly oblivious to Rache watching him with his hand on his pistol. Caressing the hilt of his pistol, one might say.

When Rache didn’t speak, Casmir kept going. “I did feel a little bad about that, even if you forcefully boarded and definitely weren’t invited, and I felt fully within my rights to defend myself. So I picked up a couple of gifts.”

He ambled over with the two large boxes and a hastily wrapped tube that was on top of the stack, nodding and smiling at Rache, who was like a black statue at his approach.

“One of these is technically from my mother,” Casmir admitted, unperturbed by the frosty reception. “A re-gift if you will. She had six tubes of underwear sent over today. I don’t know how much room she thinks I have in that little cabin on the Stellar Dragon, but it’s not enough for six tubes of underwear. I don’t know how often space mercenaries get to shop, so I thought you might appreciate them. I think they’re white. Is that all right with your faith? Whatever faith you are.” Casmir waved at Rache’s wardrobe, as if some religion might explain the all-black preference. “It’s not like they would show. The other two gifts, I picked out. An apology, if you will, for me not being super amenable to coming to work for you. You made a legitimate offer, and I may have come across as ungrateful. Sorry about all that.”

Casmir stopped and thrust the boxes toward the unmoving Rache.

Qin, Asger, and Bonita were gaping, just as unmoving. Kim was tempted to drop her face into her palm.

Sweat beaded on Casmir’s forehead, so she could tell he was nervous. Even he didn’t usually babble that much. But she didn’t know if Rache would perceive that or if he would simply think his clone brother was… strange.

Rache looked in her direction. Not for the first time, Kim wished she could see his face. She wanted to know if he was angry, uptight, or puzzled and trying to figure out how to react.

“Casmir’s mother’s taste is better than his,” Kim said, deciding that lightness was best for the situation. “I don’t know what’s in those boxes, but you’re probably safe in regard to the tube.”

Casmir nodded vigorously. “They’re just plain white. I have to buy the ones with rockets on them myself. For special occasions.”

Rache released his pistol and stuck out his hands, palms up. Casmir smiled and dropped the boxes onto them.

“I suppose,” Rache said, speaking for the first time, “that since we’re in Scholar Sato’s apartment, I needn’t worry that these boxes will explode and make a mess.”

“No, you wouldn’t have had to worry about that, regardless.” Casmir scrunched his face. “I don’t want to kill you. I just want for you not to kill me. And I also want you to continue to wish to redeem a favor for Kim. Even though I fully confess that I’m the one who’s asking for the favor, and she thinks this is a bad idea.”

“I didn’t say that explicitly,” Kim said.

“Explicitly.” Casmir picked up a bottle of grape fizzop and smiled at her.

The doorbell rang. Rache looked in that direction like a deer poised to spring. Or a panther poised to spring. Would he avoid being seen? Or leap to attack anyone who saw him, thus to eliminate witnesses?

“Probably the caterer,” Casmir said. “I’ll get it. Rache, the potted plants need watering, I think?”

He made a shooing motion toward the balcony.

Kim, feeling bad about throwing out Rache, even if it seemed a good idea, waved the others to the table and walked out with him.

“Sorry,” she said as soon as they stepped outside. “Casmir promised to buy the food.”

Rache had stepped out of sight beside the door. He held up the sloppily wrapped tube. “What could go wrong?”

“At worst, you’ll get pizza and pot stickers. He won’t actually eat the pot stickers, since they usually have pork in them, so if you like them, it works out well.”

“Hm.” Rache set the tube on the patio table and lifted the remaining two boxes. They were rectangular, flat, and appeared to have some heft. “These are about the right weight to contain ordnance.”

“Going by what he said earlier, you’re more likely to be holding comic books.”

“Comic books?” Rache glanced over his shoulder, though he couldn’t see Casmir from his spot.

Sensing judgment in the question, Kim said, “About ninety percent of what he reads are technical manuals, research papers, and reports on technical manuals and research papers. He likes fluff for the other ten percent. Though I’m told General Hawkeye Archambault is full of shades of gray and has deep thoughts pondering the treatment of superheroes in society at large.”

“Ah, superheroes. The overlooked minority.”

“Yes.”

As Rache peeled open the end of one package and peered carefully inside, Kim debated if she should try to sway him toward Casmir’s cause. But Casmir was much better at that kind of thing than she was, even if he and Rache weren’t on the best of terms. It wasn’t fair of Rache to blame Casmir for that, when he’d been the antagonist for both incidents.

“Huh. They do appear to be comic books.” Rache sounded faintly bewildered.

That a grown man would like comic books? Or that a grown man would give him comic books?

“Not the type of gift you usually receive?” Kim asked.

“Ordnance would be more practical.”

“Casmir is fond of whimsy.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed.” Rache peeked under the wrapping of the second box. “It’s a robot-building kit.”

“Maybe he thinks you need a hobby.”

Rache snorted. It almost sounded like a laugh.

Casmir knocked on the Glasnax door. “Food’s here.”

Rache waved for Kim to go in first, pausing to scrutinize their surroundings. Looking for drones with cameras? They were certainly a possibility here in the city. Kim realized what a risk he’d taken coming here not once but twice.

When she stepped inside, she found that people had chosen their own seats rather than sitting where she’d intended. She hadn’t thought to put name cards on the table, since she’d assumed she would be present to direct her guests. She decided it didn’t matter, but when Casmir sat down, her only choice was to sit between Qin and Bonita or Qin and Asger. Kim wondered if Qin had deliberately put herself where she would be able to act against Rache if needed.

“I hope this will do.” Casmir waved at a huge bowl of salad, a tray of artfully cut vegetables, platters of pâté and toast points, soup in a fancy tureen, a bucket of fried potatoes, and a stack of pizza boxes. It was an almost ludicrous combination of elegant and lowbrow.

“Are the pizzas for you?” Kim sat between Qin and Bonita.

“You didn’t think I was going to eat vegetables, did you?” Casmir winked. “But I’m willing to share. Rache, what are your thoughts on beef sausage, garlic, and roasted-pepper toppings?”

“That nobody will want to kiss you after you consume that.” Rache leaned against a wall without taking a seat. He withdrew some kind of scanner, and a few soft beeps came from it.

“Well, that wasn’t going to happen anyway. The women at this table are all too mature for me.”

“I might take that as a slight against my age,” Bonita said, “but you included Qin.”

“Qin is definitely too mature for me.”

“I expect most girls over age ten are,” Asger said.

“Ouch.” Casmir pantomimed Asger’s halberd hacking out his heart. It was a detailed and graphic gesture that made Kim wish she’d sat next to Casmir so she could elbow him when appropriate.

Kim caught his gaze, raised her eyebrows, and tilted her head toward Rache’s device.

I think he’s checking for spy cameras and eavesdropping equipment, Casmir messaged her. Either that, or he’s about to blow us all up.

Hopefully not before the pizza.

My thoughts precisely!

Rache put away the device. “Let’s talk, Dabrowski. What is it you want?”

Casmir, a piece of pizza in his mouth, lifted his eyebrows. “You don’t want to eat first? And banter more?”

Rache stared at him.

“Is it because of your mouth being covered? I ordered soup in case… you know.” Casmir waved at Rache’s mask.

This time, Kim did drop her face in her hand.

When Rache continued to stare wordlessly at him, Casmir sighed, pushed his plate forward, and folded his hands on the table. The others continued to eat, looking back and forth between them as if this were dinner theater.

“The gate I so carefully hid is missing,” Casmir told Rache. “And I mean really missing. The king’s people questioned me under the influence of a truth drug, and I, of course, blathered everything, including precise coordinates. They sent ships to look for it, and it’s gone. I, hoping to get myself out of trouble with the king so I don’t have to flee my home world forever, offered to go find it. Oddly, he didn’t trust me fully.”

“Fully.” Bonita snorted.

“He told me I needed to prove myself by finding the Black Stars terrorists and marking their base somehow so knights, Guards, soldiers, and grannies with rolling pins can descend on them and exact revenge.”

“Prove yourself.” Rache grunted. “If you knew half of what that man had done, you wouldn’t want anything to do with him.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to enlighten us about your experiences with him?” Casmir raised his eyebrows in what Kim guessed was genuine curiosity.

Rache looked in her direction before saying, “No.”

Kim didn’t know what to make of that look. Did it imply he would tell her in private if she asked? Or maybe that he wouldn’t share in front of her? Or in front of the women in general? She couldn’t guess.

“I’m still forming an opinion on him,” Casmir said, “but the terrorists have been trying to kill me for two months, and they bombed a synagogue here in the city and killed thirteen people and sent dozens more to the hospital. They’ve bombed other places where Kingdom citizens congregate. That alone is plenty to make me want to bring them down. And even though you hate Jager and you’ve proven that you’ll kill anyone directly in his employ—”

“Those who’ve mindlessly sworn oaths to serve him without questioning his methods or motives or whether he’s fit to rule a nation,” Rache interrupted coolly.

Casmir spread a hand. His face was serious now, the jokes set aside. “Even so, you’ve demonstrated that you’re willing to spare the lives of Kingdom citizens, those who were simply born here and know no other way of life. You said you destroyed the bioweapon so it wouldn’t be used on Odin.”

Casmir paused for a response, but Rache didn’t reply.

Asger squinted at him. Wondering if it was true?

“You also mentioned once,” Casmir continued, unfazed by Rache’s silence, “that the terrorists trying to kill me would be more likely to hire you than target you.”

“Why would they target him?” Asger asked. “He makes hell for the Kingdom, the same as they’re doing.”

“Exactly,” Casmir said, not letting on that he may have faltered a bit there. Not that anyone who didn’t know their secret would have caught it. “I’m hoping, Rache, that you can comm these people—surely you have contacts for terrorist organizations and the like—and apply for a job. You’d be welcome to show up with some of your own people, of course—is your ship around?—but I would invite myself along, along with Asger and possibly Qin, if she’s willing. We could all be a part of your entourage. And then when we’re invited into the compound, we could transmit its coordinates to the Royal Intelligencers. And then, while we’re waiting, maybe I could distract the person in charge by having a chat with him or her. I dearly want to convince these people that I’m not anyone they should kill.”

“Chat?” Rache asked. “Why wouldn’t you just shoot the person and end the problem?”

“Well, he or she might have subordinates. Or superiors. People here or on other worlds who would simply take over the position. I was thinking of trying to steal back the crushers they stole. Robot emancipation, if you will.”

“Dabrowski, you have to kill your enemies, not simply steal their robots. Don’t you know anything?”

“Very little when it comes to terrorists and infiltrations. But I’m willing to learn if you wish to teach. As long as your methods aren’t too violent.”

Rache rubbed his forehead through his mask.

“I think you succeeded in giving him a headache,” Qin whispered to Casmir.

“It’s because he hasn’t eaten. His blood sugar is probably low.”

“I’m sure that’s it.”

Rache lowered his hand and studied the ceiling for a long minute. Maybe Casmir was giving him a headache.

“You’re asking a lot, Dabrowski,” Rache finally said. “I’m already risking my life by being here on Odin. I was willing to take that risk in order to find you so I could wrench the location of the gate out of your brain. But now you tell me you’ve lost it.”

“Temporarily.”

“I can’t bring my ship any closer than it already is, so I don’t have access to its resources. I didn’t bring any of my men with me because of the risk and also because they’re already gathering intel for another assignment. While it’s true that I’ve worked with various extreme groups before, I haven’t worked with the Black Stars organization—their guerrilla tactics used against civilians, as you guessed, do not agree with me. It’s possible I could reach out to contacts in the system and get a comm code for one of their officers, but if I walk into the hideout with the intent to betray them, there’s no reason why they wouldn’t shoot me. Right after they shoot you.”

“Did I mention that I can bring Zee along for protection?”

“I’m sure that’ll make all the difference.”

“He hefted Asger off his feet once,” Qin put in.

Asger frowned at her. “Don’t tell him that.”

“I will happily extend his protection to you if you’re willing to assist me. Just help us find their headquarters. We can sneak in on our own. You don’t even have to show up. In fact, I could show up, pretending to be you. It’s not like anyone knows what you look like.”

Kim barely kept from making a choking noise since Casmir could have, even if someone did know what Rache looked like, pretended to be him. As long as he wasn’t required to take his shirt off.

“But if you want to come along and be involved in saving the lives of Kingdom citizens, that’s fine too,” Casmir magnanimously offered. “If things go wrong, we can tell the terrorists that we captured you.”

Rache snorted. “I was thinking of telling them that I captured you.”

“If things go wrong?”

“No, up front.”

Casmir leaned back in his chair. “That’s actually… not a bad idea. Better than you randomly showing up for a job interview for a position they didn’t post.”

“So I thought,” Rache said dryly.

Kim frowned, not liking the idea of Casmir being dragged into some high-tech terrorist facility in cuffs, with Rache leading him along on a chain. How would Qin, Asger, and Zee go along to protect him if he was pretending to be a prisoner? Would it even be a pretense? Despite the gifts, Rache might relish the idea of handing Casmir over to be tortured.

“I would just… have to put a lot of trust and faith in you,” Casmir said, not managing to hide the concern in his eyes.

“Yes.” Rache sounded pleased by the idea.

“Did you like the comic books? Would you feel bad about betraying me after receiving them?”

“I’d have to read them before forming an opinion on them.”

Kim wondered if that was a callback to Casmir’s comment about forming an opinion on the king.

“Ah. Of course.”

“Let me see if I can find a contact. I’ll let you know what I learn.” Rache headed for the balcony door. “Do your best to stay out of sight in the meantime. In case I have to say I have you locked up in one of my cells.”

“Why do so many people want to lock me up?” Casmir moaned.

“It’s a mystery,” Bonita said.

Rache pushed open the sliding door.

“Wait.” Casmir grabbed two of the pizza boxes, stood up, and strode toward him. “Since you rejected the soup.”

Rache stared down at the offering. “Is this the garlic and peppers thing?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. Nobody was going to kiss you tonight either.”

“You sound certain of that.”

“Women don’t like the taste of mask fabric.” Casmir thrust the boxes at Rache.

He accepted them, looked back at Casmir as he stepped onto the balcony, then hopped onto the railing. He activated his jet boots and disappeared into the night.

The group relaxed noticeably, even to Kim’s non-fine-tuned senses, and the chat grew jovial as dishes and pizza boxes were passed around. Qin and Asger challenged each other to an eating contest—who could eat an entire pie the quickest. There was no doubt that they could easily consume entire pizzas by themselves.

Kim was glad to see everybody again and relieved they were having a good time without her having to do anything special as hostess, but a part of her felt sad for Rache, that he’d chosen a life for himself where he didn’t likely have fun gatherings with friends. Maybe that was an incorrect assumption on her part, and boisterous dinner parties were a staple on the Fedallah, but she’d had the impression of a detached commander who kept a distance between himself and his troops.

Tenebris Rache requests permission to contact you, a message scrolled down her chip. Do you accept?

Kim’s eyes went out of focus as she stared at the words. Did she? Did she want him to be able to message her at any time of the day or night? Not really. The thought of such intimacy with him made her uncomfortable. Not so much that she believed he would be a pest or say anything offensive, but because he was a criminal, and she could envision some future scenario where, due to some court order, all the conversations were downloaded from the memory integrated into her chip.

But then she realized he might have chosen her over communicating directly with Casmir about this charade, so they were less likely to be linked. Since it might be that, she had to say yes. She could always remove his access later.

Did you forget something? Kim asked along with sending her acceptance.

No. The weight of these gifts was almost too much for my jet boots to compensate for. I was close to finding out if I could survive a ten-story drop.

If it helps, I don’t think that’s why Casmir chose those gifts.

You don’t think so, huh? I wanted to ask you… A long pause followed the transmission. Will you agree to a dinner sometime without him there? Any of them.

Kim almost dropped her fork. She’d been holding it up for two minutes without moving it, so she set it down. Was he asking her on a date? If so, why?

She had to say no. She had no interest in a romantic relationship with anyone, certainly not the most notorious criminal in the Kingdom.

She shook her head in a no, but somehow, what her brain sent to her chip was, Will you take off your mask?

Yes.

I’ll think about it.

Good.

Kim put her elbow on the table and dropped her face in her hand for the second time that night, this time for a far different reason than the first. Why had she said that? Why hadn’t she simply said no? She’d meant no. She hadn’t meant to open a negotiation.

“Are you all right, Kim?” Casmir asked.

She lowered her hand and looked at him.

“I made a delightful joke, and you didn’t laugh. I assume something must have been distracting you. Or that you’re not feeling well. Did you eat the salad? It looks a little suspicious. All of the vegetables are green.” He smiled at her, but his eyes held concern.

“I’m fine.” Kim tried to wave away the concern, especially since everyone was looking at her now. “I just made a mistake.”

“The salad?”

She thought about telling him, or messaging him privately, but he would only agree that she’d made a mistake. And then offer a dozen ways to help her get out of it.

“That must be it,” she said.

“I thought so.” He smiled, but that concerned look didn’t leave his eyes.

She reminded herself that he was better at reading people than she was. Sometimes, that was useful; sometimes, it was inconvenient.

* * *

As the small dinner party wound down, Casmir brought a stack of dishes into the kitchen where Kim was already trying to maneuver his empty pizza boxes into the recycling chute. He set the dishes aside to help her.

“Thank you for inviting us all here, Kim,” he said. “Especially him.”

Kim’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

“Do you think I can trust him?” Casmir asked.

“You’re asking me? You read people better than I do. I don’t even know where to start with someone who always wears a mask. Not that I usually look at people’s faces anyway.”

Casmir shrugged. “You’ve spent more time with him than I have. Every time we’ve met… Well, this is the first time he hasn’t steered me around by the back of my neck.”

“You must have won him over with the comic books.”

“I doubt that. I think he thinks I’m an idiot.”

“He knows you’re not an idiot. You do babble around him though.”

“No kidding. How can you be so calm around him?” Casmir pushed the plates into the washer, letting the machine handle removing the food before starting. “I mean, I guess you’re always calm, but he makes me so nervous.”

“I’m not sure how far you can trust him, but I assume you have plans of your own and are just hoping he can get you into the facility.”

“Yes. I don’t expect him to bring his men down and storm the terrorist stronghold for me. And about those plans…” Casmir faced her and raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me you want me to come with you and beat up the bad guys.”

“No… though the idea of you getting a ride in your father’s van and bringing along all the people from the dojo to help is somewhat appealing.”

“I’d prefer not to fling my peace-loving family at terrorists with DEW-Tek weapons and explosives. My little brother Junpei is the only one who doesn’t train simply so he can defend himself.”

“What does he train for?”

“To get girls.”

“How’s it working for him?”

“He does all right. Though I’m not sure how one can go from being incredibly agile and light on his feet in the dojo to tripping over everything in sight if a pretty girl is watching.”

“It’s not that hard. Trust me.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Your baseline is lower, so the differences aren’t that noticeable.”

“Thanks. I’m going to ask you for a favor even though I’m fairly certain you’re insulting me.”

“Another one?”

“Yes. Your new government lab is just as well stocked with equipment and supplies as your regular one, right?”

“Yes.” She eyed him warily.

“Can you cook me up an anti-terrorist bacteria of some kind?”

“Anti-terrorist?”

“I mean, I guess that couldn’t work, that you could specify them in particular.”

“Not without access to each individual’s blood.”

“We don’t even have access to their comm or know where they’re hanging out yet.” Casmir stroked his chin. “Could you make something that I or one of my robots could unleash on people that would make them sick or somehow distracted? Nothing deadly, but if they were writhing, clutching their stomachs, and unable to defend themselves when I called in the knights and Guard, that would be handy. Like when you made Qin and Bonita sick.”

“That was with a virus, not a bacteria.”

“I’m really not that picky. I’m not sure where their base will end up being, but I’m sure it’ll take our people time to get there.”

“You may want a chemical rather than a virus or bacteria, since the latter would take time to incubate in the human body and have a noticeable effect, but I’ll look in the warmers and see if there’s anything useful that I might be able to get away with pulling out. This isn’t like my old job where I was trusted. I’m watched.” Kim shoved a pizza box into the chute with more force than necessary.

“I’m sorry,” Casmir said glumly.

Even if she had volunteered to go over to the Machu Picchu and assist the Fleet with resolving the quarantine, she never would have been out there if not for him.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Oh, it probably is. Most things are these days.” He smiled, though it wasn’t that sincere. His heart ached at all the people in his wake who’d been hurt. All the people not in his wake too. Not only did he want to stop these terrorists, but he wouldn’t feel bad in the least if some bacteria made them miserable for days along the way.

“You’ll get to the bottom of it.” Kim nodded at him. “Don’t worry about me. I just miss my chances to train. I need a physical outlet after a long day of standing and sitting at work.”

“Your mother’s apartment doesn’t have a treadmill that folds out of the cabinet? You should move promptly back to the Dragon.”

“Have you been using Bonita’s treadmills?” Kim poked his shoulder.

Casmir was relieved she hadn’t poked his stomach. He didn’t remember to eat often enough to have a paunch, but it wasn’t rock hard. Rache’s probably was.

“Define use.”

“Walked, jogged, or sprinted on a treadmill for periods of at least twenty minutes.”

“Then no. I walked by the cabinet where they’re stored and looked at them. You know, to exercise my eyes.”

“You need more help than my bacteria can give you, Casmir.”

“I don’t doubt it. I’ll definitely be building some more robots. But your assistance will be invaluable.” He smiled at her. “You’re a good friend.”

“Yes.”

He smiled wider and strode out to accompany the others back to the ship. Maybe he would pull out one of those treadmills. To get himself fit for being Rache’s prisoner. That sounded as onerous as going into space.

12

“Those are fantastic,” Qin breathed, admiring the fresh galaxy-blue and silver-flame polishes painted on her claws. “You’re really good at this, Captain. You could work in a salon.”

Bonita snorted as she finished the last claw on Qin’s left hand. “All of that is done by robots these days. Nobody has openings for a manicurist. Even if I could stomach taking orders from some uppity employer.”

“Robots are very useful,” Viggo’s voice came from the speaker as two of his vacuums whirred around the lounge. “Just ask Casmir.”

The hatch was open, and bangs and clunks drifted up from the cargo hold.

“Is that why he’s building a robot army down there?” Bonita asked.

“He said he would feel unarmed facing terrorists without mechanical assistance,” Viggo said.

“Some people use guns for that.”

“Casmir is different.” Qin blew on her nail paint.

“Tell me about it.”

Qin picked up the galaxy-blue and grinned. “Do you think he would let me paint his nails?”

Bonita shook her head. “We need to find you more girlfriends, Qin.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a yes or no.”

Clunk, clunk, bang, whir!

“His hands may be busy, but you’re welcome to ask.” Bonita grimaced and flexed her knee under the table.

“You didn’t give me many details about the surgery that you guys finagled as part of the deal with the baron. Are you still going through with it?” Qin thought Bonita’s pain had been worse lately.

“Yeah, any galactic citizen will tell you the Kingdom is the place to go for high-quality medical procedures.”

“You sound sarcastic.”

“Because I am. But the price is right. And it doesn’t sound that complicated. It’s a procedure, not a surgery. Something about stem cell injections and nanite repair.”

“Free is a good price. I hope it works out well. Then you can spar with me in the cargo hold.” Qin examined her nails in the light, then added a couple more dots for stars.

“So I can break other joints and require more procedures? You know I prefer to hide in the back and shoot from behind cover.”

“That seems reasonable for a bounty hunter.” Qin did wish she had someone to practice with regularly. That was one thing she missed about having numerous cohort sisters around. They had all been equally strong and tough, so they hadn’t had to worry about hurting each other.

“Reasonable and healthy for one’s longevity.” Bonita put the cap back on the nail polish. “Qin, I’d like to give you that fifteen thousand. And help you start a negotiation with those pirates. You deserve to be free. Completely free.”

“I don’t think anyone is ever that free, are they?” Qin waved to the walls of the ship, though she meant to imply the debt and taxes that Bonita owed on it. If she didn’t pay them, her government would eventually come take the Dragon away from her, and how would she work then? Where would she live?

“You’re too young to be pessimistic.”

Qin lowered her chin. “I don’t want to take your money, Captain. Especially not when I don’t think it would work. I don’t think…”

“You have to learn to fight for yourself, Qin. And want your freedom and rights. It’s okay to want things. It’s not selfish. It’s human.”

“I’ll think about it.” Qin noticed the bangs had stopped, and she heard soft footfalls on the ladder rungs, so she was facing the hatchway when Casmir leaned in and knocked.

“Captain Laser,” he said. “I got another delivery. The cargo hold is about full, due to my workshop expanding to fill half of it. Do you mind if I put a few things in your freezer? Or engineering?”

“My cargo hold is full? Of what? Robot parts?”

“And complete robots.” Casmir smiled cheerfully.

“Where did you get the money for all that?” Bonita asked. “You refused to take a cut from the patent payment.”

“Denji actually paid me for a couple of hours of work related to that, but that mostly covered the pizzas the other night. These robots and parts are free. They’re from the various storage containers that my lab controls on the university campus. I asked a senior professor there if anyone would care if I took them. He said the students charged with cleaning graffiti and bird poop off the storage containers would be delighted if they disappeared entirely.”

“So you’re building this army out of quality materials.”

His smile grew a touch lopsided. “I’m improvising.”

“That should impress the terrorists.”

“We’ll see as soon as we can find them.” His smile waned. “I’m still waiting to hear back from Rache. I hope he didn’t back out. Or that if he did, he’d at least let us know. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that I lost the ancient gate. He’s probably less interested in capturing and torturing me for that information now.”

“How sad,” Bonita said.

“Casmir, you look tense.” Qin rose to her feet and swept an arm toward her chair. “Would you like to step into our salon?”

His eye blinked. “Your salon? Like for massages? Or…” He glanced at the table full of paints and then at her claws.

Qin fought her usual instinct to hide them behind her back and, instead, lifted them for his perusal. “We’re doing manicures.”

“Yeah, how are your cuticles, El Mago?” Bonita leaned back in her chair and smirked. “I’m sure working on robots has a tendency to leave nails ragged and unkempt.”

Casmir stretched his fingers out and considered the short nails. They—and the rest of his hands—were half-covered in grease smudges. “I’ve never had a manicure, so I’m not sure what well-tended nails should look like.”

Qin pointed at his black pinky nail. She was certain the color was due to grease and not some strange fungus, but it still could use some help. “Not like that.”

She caught a whiff of an unfamiliar scent wafting up from the cargo hold. Something from Casmir’s robots?

“Did you leave the cargo hatch open?” Qin asked.

“Yes. It’s a lovely evening. It’s not even raining. Also, the ventilation down there isn’t the best, and I was welding.”

“I smell something. I’m going to check on it.” Qin pushed him gently toward Bonita. “The captain will do your nails.”

Bonita’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you wanted to do his nails.”

“Just the painting part. That’s fun. Filing and de-greasing are boring.”

“So I should do them.”

“Naturally.” Qin waved to reassure Casmir—his expression was dubious—then descended to the bottom level, sniffing as she headed around the corner and toward the cargo hold. Asger had gone back to sleep at the castle or wherever his room was, so there wasn’t anyone else aboard who could be doing something to cause strange odors.

The sight of so many robots and crates of robot pieces in the cargo hold distracted her for a moment. He truly was building an army. But how did he expect to deploy it?

If he went in as Rache’s prisoner, wouldn’t he have to go alone? Even taking Zee would be suspicious. It had been a couple of days since the dinner party, but Qin hadn’t heard of any updates to the plan. She also hadn’t heard if Rache—she shuddered at the idea of trusting him for any of this—had successfully contacted the terrorists to put the plan into play.

A few of the robots shifted to track her movements as she walked across the hold. A couple of them had glowing red eyes. That was unnerving, as was the fact that many of them had guns or cannons mounted to their arms or instead of arms. Some were bipedal and others were on treads, like small tanks.

When she reached the cargo hatch, she sniffed a few more times. The odor she’d picked up came from outside. She didn’t recognize it, but it had a chemical or maybe pharmaceutical underpinning. Something from somewhere in the city around them? It seemed closer.

It was dark out, but her night vision allowed her to see around the walled-in air harbor easily enough, and she didn’t spot anyone near the handful of other ships. This had proven a secure place, well patrolled and monitored by numerous cameras, and the terrorists hadn’t struck at them here. At least not yet.

She gazed toward the Kingdom Guard vehicle that had been parked near the Dragon every day and night, with only the men and women stationed there changing. The locals weren’t hiding the fact that the Dragon and its crew were under surveillance. Qin had been surprised their group had been allowed out for Kim’s dinner party. Asger’s presence had made that easier. His presence made everything easier here.

None of the four guards that were typically standing around or sitting inside the vehicle were visible tonight. That was odd.

She debated whether it was anything she should be concerned about or check on. She risked them mistaking her act as hostile if she walked over there, and Asger wasn’t here to countermand their instincts to point rifles at her chest. Not that she couldn’t take care of that if she needed.

That unfamiliar scent continued to tease her nostrils. Qin sprang to the pavement, landing lightly beside the ramp. The Guard vehicle’s running lamps were on, as they usually were, spreading cones of yellow illumination into the night. She padded across pavement damp with puddles from an earlier rain, the scent of engine oil and water commingling, underlying the other more pungent scent.

As she closed on the Guard vehicle, nobody jumped out to question her. The chemical scent grew stronger, and she started to think she should have grabbed a weapon before coming outside.

She rounded the vehicle and spotted two uniformed people—two bodies?—lying on the pavement. A man and a woman. A tiny dart was visible protruding from the side of the woman’s neck.

Qin crouched beside her, putting her back to the vehicle, as she looked around the pavement and up on the wall. She sniffed and listened intently, suspecting this had happened recently. She retracted her claws and rested a finger on the woman’s throat. There was a pulse.

“Tranquilizer?” Qin whispered, withdrawing the dart, careful not to touch the bloody tip.

When she brought it to her nose, the chemical scent intensified. Careful to stay low, she opened the vehicle door and spotted two more unconscious guards crumpled on the seats inside. Whoever had done this must have been someone familiar to them or at least someone wearing one of their uniforms. How else would the person have sneaked up so easily?

A faint clink-clank reached Qin’s ears, and she focused on a parked shuttle in a dark corner. A cylinder the size of her fist rolled out from behind it, heading straight toward the Guard vehicle. And Qin.

A grenade?

Qin tensed to spring away, but if it blew up, the Guards might be killed. She sprinted for the cylinder and snatched it up, hoping she was faster than her assailant expected. She hurled it over the nearest wall. It hissed instead of blowing up, and greenish smoke spewed out as it disappeared into the darkness.

The faintest whirring sound came from behind her, and Qin spun back toward the vehicle. A drone hovered there, and she realized her mistake in assuming that a person had fired those tranquilizer darts.

She flung herself to the side as the drone shot. A tink sounded as a dart struck the pavement where she’d been.

Qin jumped to her feet, tempted to rush the drone and try to destroy it before it could fire again, but the drone wasn’t what had rolled the smoke grenade toward her. She spun around and ran toward the shuttle, zigzagging her path, certain her airborne assailant wasn’t done.

She was right. More darts tinked off the pavement, one missing her by less than an inch. She sprang around the back of the shuttle and heard the drone whizzing after her. But she also spotted someone running away. Someone in black and tan, not the colors of the Kingdom Guard.

She sprinted after him, her speed twice as fast as his, and tackled him as he ran for an exit. He hit the ground with an oomph.

Hearing the drone whirring closer, Qin pulled the man over on top of her as she locked his arms behind his back so he couldn’t use them.

“Get off me, animal!” he shouted, struggling.

But he lacked any enhancements, and she easily kept him from escaping. Faint clicks sounded as the drone fired three times. The tiny darts thudded into the man’s chest. He shrieked curses.

The drone hovered right over them and fired again, targeting one of Qin’s arms. She jerked the man sideways in time to block another dart. Then she hurled him ten feet into the air. He smashed against the drone, knocking it aside.

He flailed and tried to find his feet as he dropped back down, but the tranquilizer was already taking effect—four times the needed dose. He landed in an ungainly heap.

As the drone righted itself, Qin leaped up, caught it, and hurled it to the pavement. It cracked but whirred indignantly, as if it meant to rise again. She stomped on it. Pieces of its plating and internal parts flew free. One clattered all the way to the ramp of the Dragon where Casmir and Bonita were exiting the ship.

They glanced around as they ran toward her. Bonita went to the moaning but quickly losing consciousness man. Casmir knelt before the pitiful remains of the drone, fingers outstretched.

“It was shooting tranquilizer darts at me,” Qin said. “At everyone. The Guards are sleeping. That guy threw a smoke grenade at me.”

“They were targeting you?” Casmir scratched his head and peered around. “Or did you stop him on his way to come try to kill me?”

“What’s the matter, El Mago?” Bonita nudged the man with her boot, but the tranquilizer had kicked in, and he didn’t react. “Upset that someone else might get shot at?”

“I’d prefer nobody be shot at, but I’m not sure I’m a proponent of spreading the target around. That makes defense harder. It’s just him?”

“Him and the drone,” Qin said.

“Hm.” Casmir picked up one of the dozens of pieces that were all that remained of Qin’s assailant. “Underwhelming assailants, given what the terrorists have thrown at me previously.”

“Maybe he was here for Qin,” Bonita said. “Did she mention there’s a fifteen thousand Union-dollar reward out for her return? And since she’s wanted returned alive, that would explain the tranqs.”

Casmir walked over to study the prone man. “He’s wearing typical clothing for the Kingdom. Did he say anything, Qin? Could you tell if he had an accent? A Kingdom accent?”

“He called me an animal.”

“Ah. Then I’d lean toward him being a local.”

“Not necessarily,” Bonita said. “The Kingdom doesn’t have exclusivity on being assholes to genetically modified people.”

“Why don’t we haul him inside and see if we can question him when he wakes up? And before he kills himself.” Casmir shuddered, then waved at Qin. “Do you want to hoist him up, or shall I call in my mechanical assistants?”

Qin almost laughed because one of the robots with treads rested at the top of the cargo ramp, like a dog waiting to be released into the woods for a hunt.

“I can handle it.” Qin searched the man, pulled a couple of compact pistols out of his pockets, left them on the ground, then slung him over her shoulder.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to risk smudging your claw paint,” Casmir said.

“It dries quickly.” Despite the words, she shifted her burden so she could check her fingers. She frowned at a smear on one and showed it to Bonita.

“It may need a touch-up,” Bonita agreed.

“It’s difficult being a lady and a warrior,” Qin said, walking toward the ship, her prisoner dangling halfway down her back.

“I’m sure that’s been a lament all the way back to Old Earth and the Amazon women,” Casmir said. “If they existed. I seem to remember Kim’s mother mentioning they were likely fictional.”

“Warrior women have always existed,” Bonita said, “in heart if not in biceps size.”

“I have no doubt this is true.”

They took the man to the ship’s small sickbay, laying him on the single exam table. He started convulsing, and Qin stepped back in alarm.

“Did he have time to take poison?” Casmir asked. “Like that other guy?”

“I don’t think so.” Qin shook her head. “But he got shot a bunch of times.”

Bonita checked his pulse. “Erratic heartbeat. I’m not sympathetic to people who try to kidnap my crew members, but I’d really prefer to question him before he dies.”

Casmir spread his hands. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. This is usually where I go get a doctor. Or my mother.”

“Is she a doctor?” Qin asked.

“A physical therapist. She specializes in people with prosthetic and cybernetic replacements. But she’s had a decent amount of medical training. Uh, should his foot be twitching like that?”

“Viggo.” Bonita opened the cabinets and started pulling out equipment. “Am I going to need a defibrillator or what? Get your medical program rolling. What do I do with this idiot?”

“Improve your bedside manner?” Viggo suggested, but as he spoke, a display flared to life with a doctor gazing benignly out at them. Three thunks sounded, and a beam scanned their patient.

Bonita opened a cabinet, the door clunking against Qin’s leg. “You two are in the way. Wait outside. I’ll let you know if he lives.”

Qin wanted to help, but she felt especially bulky in the cramped sickbay, so she nodded and moved into the corridor with Casmir. The computerized doctor program started giving instructions about starting an IV and preparing a dialysis machine. Bonita’s intermittent growls of, “Idiot” and “did this to himself” floated out.

“I sent a message to the closest hospital.” Casmir tapped his temple. “Someone with better equipment should be here soon.”

“The captain is pretty experienced, actually. She’s fixed me up after battles. We’re used to making do out there all alone.”

“I understand, but we’re in the middle of Odin’s highest-tech city. There’s no reason to make do.”

Qin’s sensitive ears picked up the wail of an ambulance siren. “If they take him away, we won’t be able to question him.”

“True.” Casmir tapped his lip and slipped back inside. He dug into the man’s pockets.

Qin’s search outside had been cursory, and she’d only been looking for weapons. Casmir returned with a wallet and tossed it to her as the wails grew louder, and voices from outside reached her ears. The ambulance had already arrived.

“That wallet, sadly for him, fell out while he was in a scuffle. Stay here.” Casmir ran back to the cargo hold and shouted, “He’s up here, ladies and gentlemen. He tranqed those Guards out there, and then his own drone got him several times.”

Casmir ran back up ahead of what Qin assumed were paramedics. The siren wails were hammering against her eardrums from just outside. Casmir’s satchel flapped against his side now. He pulled out a small meter, slipped back into sickbay, and read the man’s identity chip.

Clatters came from the ladder well, along with someone grousing, “How’re we supposed to get a hover gurney up that?”

Casmir put away his meter and guided two paramedics into sickbay.

“Enh?” Bonita must not have heard the sirens—that was hard for Qin to imagine, but she knew her hearing was better than a normal human’s—for she looked up in surprise. “Oh, right. Take him. Me trying to hook up this fifty-year-old dialysis machine was going to get ugly anyway.”

The paramedics gave her alarmed looks as they carried the man out. He’d stopped twitching, so Qin hoped his heart rate had settled down. His eyes were open but glazed, and he shook his head.

“Just needed some cash,” he mumbled, words slurring together. “Wanted out… the king’s going to get ’em… not safe… k’stars are taking too many risks…. Don’t need me… anyway. A little cash… and I could have… gotten off this rock.”

The paramedics maneuvered him into the ladder well, and the man groaned and stopped talking.

“Thanks for coming,” Casmir called after the paramedics. “Let us know if he wants visitors later.”

Nobody replied. A few clinks came from the cargo hold, and Qin’s ears told her they were loading him onto a gurney and carrying him out.

Bonita snorted. “I doubt they’ll let you go in and question a patient, Casmir.”

“I know. That’s why we arranged for his wallet to fall out and into Qin’s hands.” Casmir frowned at his meter. “Though I have his identity here.”

“Aren’t people’s identity chips usually encrypted so only special law-enforcement scanners can read them?” Qin asked.

“Are they? My scanner must be above average.” Casmir winked at her. “This is a former Sergeant Tim Baum, currently unemployed.”

Baum? Qin scratched her cheek. Why did that sound familiar?

“He’s been arrested twice in the last few years and been in and out of a psychiatric hospital. His brother is missing and believed to have been associated with a known terrorist group. It doesn’t say which terrorist group, but…” Casmir shook his head. “I’m not sure, Qin. I think this may have been about me. Or just as much about me as you. He said he wanted some money to get out, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Wait.” Bonita gripped Casmir’s forearm. “You said Baum with a brother linked to terrorists?”

“So his Kingdom Guard report says.”

Bonita looked at Qin, her expression grave. “We were supposed to deliver that bioweapon to a Mr. Baum. We didn’t know that’s what it was then, but he surely did.”

“Yeah.” Qin shuddered at the thought that they had almost handed over that case, purely through ignorance, and how different this planet might look now, with those vials of evil being blasted open in the atmosphere and killing tens of thousands of people.

“I’m going to lock the hatch and make sure nobody else pesters us tonight.” Bonita headed for the ladder.

Casmir was going over whatever additional data he’d gotten from the guy’s chip. Qin looked at the wallet, but she doubted she needed to know anything else. Casmir would never be safe until they dealt with the terrorists, and she… she wouldn’t be safe from people willing to do the Druckers’ dirty work, not even here in the Kingdom.

13

Casmir kept his touch gentle as he wired the last of his mishmash of battle robots, but on the inside, he was jumping up and down and flailing with impatience. Were they ever going to hear from Rache? It had been five days since the dinner at Kim’s place. He’d barely heard from her. All he knew was that she was working from dawn to dusk and beyond in some government lab, cut off from her friends and family except for a couple of hours in the evenings.

Casmir’s family and friends had learned he was back on the planet and were sending frequent messages asking when he’d be back at work or when he would join them for gaming or a study group—every day, his mother mentioned the hour dinner would be served, in case he wanted to swing by. He was touched that so many people had missed him, but he had a hard time thinking about social activities with this incomplete mission looming over him. He needed to be as prepared as possible in case Rache commed with a date and time.

Besides, he still worried that he would endanger his family and friends if he saw them—or simply by being on the planet here. Several times, he’d urged his parents to stay elsewhere until this was resolved, but they kept insisting they were too old and boring for anyone to want to bother.

As he worked, Qin wordlessly handed him parts and tools. Casmir sensed her impatience, too, the desire to do something more physical. As he’d learned early on, she wasn’t someone who did well with inactivity. Or in captivity, which this seemed to be. Nobody had told Casmir or Qin that they couldn’t walk about in the city, but every time she left, she risked some idiot shooting her out of fear—or some bounty hunter trying to collect out of calculation.

And he… He worried crushers would appear if he went out in public, and his gut twisted every time he thought of the synagogue and those who had died. He wanted to get these terrorists off his planet, especially if they turned out to be the same group that had ordered that bioweapon.

“Are you supposed to be grinding your teeth while you work on your robots?”

“You have excellent hearing, Qin.”

“You weren’t grinding them that softly.”

“I’m sorry. I’m agitated and impatient—and wondering if Rache is actually going to help us.” Casmir made himself smile at her. “Thank you for helping me. I know you’re tired of being cooped up too.”

“You’re welcome, but I was going to have to stay anyway. The captain’s surgery—procedure—is in three days. After that… we’ll see. She said it wouldn’t take her long to recover, and then we can go anywhere and deal with… anything.”

“Anything?” Casmir closed the panel he was working on and plugged in his diagnostic tester. “Like convincing those pirates to retract their bounty and let you be a free woman?”

Qin nodded slowly. “That may have to be part of it. I’d thought… For a while, I was thinking maybe I could hide here, in the Kingdom. It seemed so far away from the Druckers and their usual haunts. But their reach is longer than I realized.”

“If you have to spend your life in hiding, that wouldn’t be much of a life.” Casmir shook his head. “I wish I’d realized that myself a couple of months ago. I allowed people to tell me to get off Odin, when I probably should have stayed and confronted those terrorists right away. Not that I knew there were terrorists then. Or had as many burly friends.” His second smile came more easily as he nodded at her.

“You wouldn’t have a fetching new nickname if you hadn’t come to space and met us.”

“That would have been horrible.” Casmir didn’t mind El Mago. Coming from Bonita, it was a more flattering nickname than he ever would have expected.

“But, Casmir, don’t you have to hide sometimes? When you’re horribly outnumbered and outgunned?”

“No, that’s just when you get sneaky instead of planning a direct assault. I know all about that. I’ve never been able to plan a direct assault on anything in my life.”

“Are you offering to help me with the pirates?”

“Well, first I have to defeat the terrorists, and then I have to find the gate for the king, but if I’m still alive after that, I can definitely check my calendar.”

Qin snorted.

“I’ll help. And so will all my robots.”

“Good, that’s what I really wanted.”

“You don’t think I could take on these Druckers by myself? I have my virile and manly moments, you know.” Casmir flexed his hand, showing off his freshly manicured fingernails. He hadn’t been sold on any of the paint colors that Bonita had offered, but he admitted having his nails all the same length—and clean—wasn’t bad.

“Do these manly moments occur when you’re sleeping and nobody is around?”

“Most of them, yes. In my dreams, I leap tall buildings, throw bad guys into live volcanos, and ask out beautiful women without fear of rejection.” He winked. “You can find a way, Qin. Don’t let yourself be bullied into accepting a frenzied and panicked existence. And I’ll try to take my own advice and do the same.”

“Thank you, Casmir.”

Someone knocked on the cargo hatch. Casmir jumped up and jogged over, wondering if it was Rache. He probably wouldn’t visit the air harbor across from the castle in broad daylight, but who knew?

A woman in a green-and-gold courier uniform stood on the cargo ramp. “Package for Casmir Dabrowski.”

“That’s me.”

“Signature, please.” She held out a tablet, her gaze taking in the cargo hold behind him with boredom until she noticed all the robots. Then she gaped. “Are you going to invade the castle with those?”

“No, castle invasions are frowned upon in this modern era.” Casmir signed the tablet and held out his hand.

“Something else then?” She gave him the package.

“If I get lucky.”

Stickers labeled fragile and biohazard adorned the side, so he accepted it gingerly. Only seeing Kim Sato on the return address kept him from pushing it back at the courier.

She gave him a bewildered look but walked away without further comments.

Casmir sent Kim a message, though he didn’t expect a response until she got home from work. Kim, let me know what this is when you get a chance. And if it’s safe to open it. Or if it needs to be refrigerated or something.

Her response surprised him by coming back promptly. Maybe she had been allowed outside on a lunch break.

It is a mucous-membrane-irritating and vomit-inducing biological agent. It does not need to be refrigerated, but don’t store it anywhere hot. I loaded the agent into numerous small vials so you can spread it around. Breaking them open will release the contents, as the liquid will turn gaseous upon contact with air.

What’s the area of influence?

One vial should have a noticeable impact on everyone within a twenty-by-twenty-foot area. Outdoors, the gas will dissipate quickly and have little effect. I hope for your sake that the terrorists are not fans of open-air architecture.

They’re probably holed up in tunnels somewhere. Bad guys are allergic to sun, you know.

Did you learn that from comic books?

Cartoons, actually. An equally reliable source.

I find nothing to refute about that statement. It should go without saying that the agent will be ineffective if your enemies are in combat armor with self-contained breathing systems. It’s not acidic and won’t eat through their suits. I didn’t want to pick anything overly horrific or likely to be deadly.

That’s fine. And preferable. Casmir’s mind boggled that such an agent could have been an option. Were those vials simply stored on a different shelf in her lab? I wouldn’t think the terrorists would be in armor if they’re lounging in their base here on Odin.

Be careful not to inhale the fumes yourself. They’re extremely pungent, and the irritation will last until you’ve washed thoroughly. You’ll know it if you accidentally smell it. The odor is like a mix between sewage and rotten eggs.

Casmir held the package out at arm’s length. Are you sure this was legal to send in the mail?

I sent it via courier.

Well, that makes it perfectly fine then.

I don’t think you can judge me when you’re going to fling it around in a base full of people.

An enemy base full of people. I would never risk making a government postal worker sick.

You’re a paragon, Casmir.

Thank you.

For the compliment or the agent?

Yes.

Casmir walked back into the cargo hold, careful not to trip over any of his tools or parts and send the package flying. Where should he store it? His cabin? That sounded unappealing. Maybe the hidden nook behind the wall in the lavatory?

Qin looked curiously at the package, but before he could explain it, Bonita stepped into the cargo hold.

She pointed a thumb upward, toward the navigation level. “Message for you, El Mago. A deadpan guy in a mask.”

Casmir set aside the package and raced for the ladder. Had Rache managed to contact the terrorists? Finally? Or was he comming to say it wouldn’t work out and that he was flying out of the system with his comic books and toy robot?

Casmir sprang into navigation and hit the comm button. It was a recording, not a live message. There was no video—Bonita must have been making assumptions about the mask.

“I’ve checked my finances, Dabrowski,” the recording started without preamble, Rache’s familiar dry voice coming through, “and I’m prepared to purchase ten of your crushers. I’m transmitting the coordinates for delivery. Be there at midnight tomorrow. If you turn the Kingdom Guard on me, I’ll scrag you like a boot stomping an ant. Out.”

Casmir sank into one of the pods as the coordinates flashed on the display.

Bonita leaned through the hatchway. “Is that all you expected it to be?”

“I think the plan is on. And that he believes this channel is monitored. My question is if those are the real coordinates. Royal Intelligence should know the king assigned me to hunt down the terrorists, but they wouldn’t know anything about Rache.” They also might be quite alarmed by the idea of him selling crushers to Rache, though if terrorists were listening in, it should sound like a plausible reason for them to meet.

Casmir glanced at the from field on the transmission. It showed as unknown. Either Rache hadn’t sent it from his ship, or he’d been able to scramble the origination. But someone who recognized his voice would identify him. Casmir was surprised he hadn’t scrambled that, too, but then Casmir wouldn’t have recognized it. Though he was sure he would have twigged to the ruse without recognizing the voice.

“If Royal Intelligence thinks Rache is going to show up at those coordinates,” Casmir said, “then what? He can’t kidnap me if a hundred Kingdom Guards are trying to kidnap—or kill—him.”

Bonita muttered something, but a message came in via Casmir’s chip, and he held up a finger.

Casmir, Kim messaged. I just got a random set of numbers from Rache. I assume they’re for you and not a love letter to decode. I’m forwarding them.

“A love letter?” Casmir choked out. “That’s not very damn funny.”

“Uh, what?” Bonita asked.

Casmir held up a finger as the numbers came through. Coordinates. “Ah, I think I’ve got the real destination for our rendezvous with Rache.” He transferred them to the navigation computer, and a map appeared on the display. “Looks like four hundred miles up the coast, well north of Zamek City and the launch loop.”

“What are those white things on the map?”

He glanced at her, not sure if she was serious, but from the way she squinted at the display, maybe she hadn’t seen many maps that denoted ice.

“Glaciers,” he said. “Those bays are full of them. In the summer, people go dogsledding and tramping around in the ice caves.”

“Sounds like a lovely place for a kidnapping.”

“It will be.” Casmir stood and faced her. “I’m assuming Rache will want to steal me away in some shuttle and not let me take my robot army.”

“No? He’s not very considerate.”

“It’s what I figured on from the beginning. I’m hoping you’ll be willing to help me by transporting them. First, I need you to drop me off at Rache’s coordinates, then follow us a couple of hours later and get as close as you can to the terrorist base without being seen. Then land, open the hatch, and shoo my robots out the door. I’m programming them with instructions to stomp in and attack the terrorists’ defenses, though it’s my hope that I’ll continue to have network access and be able to command them myself.” Casmir had no idea if this base that they were only assuming existed would be in a city or on a mountaintop or somewhere in between. If it was in a city, he worried about his robots doing unintended damage along the way. They lacked the intelligence and autonomy of an android or a crusher.

“How am I supposed to follow you a couple of hours later?”

“With this.” Casmir pulled a small device out of his pocket. “It’s tied into a subcutaneous transponder that Qin helped me inject in my arm.” He waved to the spot. “You should be able to track me as long as they don’t stick me in some network dead zone. Hm, maybe you should only wait an hour before taking off after me.” He raised his eyebrows. “Will you do it? I know you don’t owe me anything, and I’ve been making your life more complicated lately. Unfortunately, that seems to be true of everybody who comes in contact with me. It’s why I’ve been so hesitant to even visit my parents.”

He smiled, but a lump had formed in his throat, and he wiped moisture from his eyes. Allergies, not tears, he told himself. But he couldn’t help but feel he was making life difficult for everyone, and he didn’t know how to put an end to that. Except by helping the government find and capture all of these terrorists.

It was possible he wouldn’t need the help of the robots, that all he would have to do was find the base and stick a locator beacon on the door, then call in the Kingdom Guard. But he had to assume it wouldn’t be that simple and that he needed something to keep the terrorists busy, so they didn’t flee while he was waiting for the Guard.

“I don’t owe you anything?” Bonita leaned against the jamb. “I have just received fifty thousand crowns in my bank account, I’m getting a free knee-fixing procedure in three days, and Viggo’s innards have never been in better shape.”

“Really, Bonita,” Viggo said. “That’s rude. I don’t discuss your innards.”

“For which Casmir is vastly grateful.”

Casmir was more grateful that it sounded like Bonita would help him. His conscience almost made him point out all the trouble she’d gotten into lately because of him—surely, all that outweighed what she was receiving for the patent that he’d used to bribe her with—but he caught himself. He needed her help one more time. Better that he not try to convince her that he didn’t deserve it. He just hoped she wouldn’t be in any danger. Casmir assumed Asger would come along and join his robots in the infiltration, but he didn’t want to endanger Bonita. After all, that procedure was only designed to fix knees.

“I am very grateful.” He gave her a sincere bow.

“I’ll take you to that rendezvous point—glaciers, dear God—and I’ll come after you to drop off your army, but, Casmir, are you sure about this? That you can trust Rache? Because he seems like even more of a devil than the terrorists. I didn’t say anything during that crazy dinner party, but you know he manipulated you into this, right?”

“He proposed what sounded like a logical plan, and I agreed.”

“Yes, that’s how manipulation works. Didn’t they teach you anything in robot school?”

Casmir could understand why Bonita was suspicious of Rache, but he didn’t know how to assuage her suspicion without explaining their shared DNA. He also didn’t know if that would assuage anything. Or should. Was he being naive about this? After all, he’d thwarted Rache’s plans twice, and Rache had only come all the way to Odin because he wanted to know where that gate was. Did he believe Casmir no longer knew? Or would he be waiting at the rendezvous spot with a syringe full of a truth drug?

“They didn’t teach us about manipulation, no,” Casmir said. “They did teach us how to manipulate robots, but that’s not quite the same.”

“A clear deficiency in the curriculum.”

“Yes.” Casmir took a deep breath. “It is possible I’m walking into a trap, but I think he could have kidnapped me at other points if he really wanted me.” Such as during that quirky dinner date… “I genuinely believe he’ll take me to the terrorists.”

“And help you thwart them?” Bonita’s eyebrows rose. “Or turn you over to them so they can finally kill you?”

“I’m hoping for the former.”

“Hope isn’t a plan, Dabrowski.”

“What happened to El Mago?”

Bonita shook her head and walked away. “I’m rescinding that if you walk yourself into a trap.”

* * *

When Kim returned home, the balcony door was open, the curtain stirring in the breeze.

A nervous flutter passed through her stomach. She could only assume Rache was there, but why? The day before, she’d transmitted to Casmir the coordinates that Rache had sent in his extremely brief message, the only one he’d presumed to send her since the night of the dinner. He should be on his way to that rendezvous point if he truly meant to meet Casmir there. Surely, he hadn’t come for his dinner date.

“You work late hours,” Rache’s voice came from the balcony as she approached the door.

“The government isn’t taking my suggestion, insofar as I can tell, and has me refining a strain of bacteria that will—they hope—keep anyone who goes close to study the gate, whenever it’s found, from dying horribly.”

“What was your suggestion to them?”

“That they send in someone who’s immune to its effects to see if they can deactivate the security system. I had Casmir in mind, though I didn’t mention his immunity.”

Rache didn’t answer right away. Kim hadn’t stepped out onto the balcony yet, but curiosity drove her to open the door fully and join him. He never seemed willing to step into her apartment without an invitation. But standing on her balcony and opening the door was acceptable in his mind. He’d set up strange boundaries regarding her privacy, but she supposed it was better than walking in and finding him lounging on her bed. Maybe he’d be more normal if the situation allowed it. It wasn’t as if he could knock on her front door.

“Did you mention mine?” Rache finally asked.

“Yes. Technically, Dr. Sikou did. I told her all about the altered and unaltered mitochondria when we were working on solutions, and she reported it.”

“Ah.”

Kim couldn’t tell from his tone if he disapproved or felt betrayed. It wasn’t as if they had been working on the same side. He’d been her kidnapper at the time. And now he was… she didn’t know exactly. Someone going off tonight to either capture Casmir or pretend to capture him. She hoped it was the latter, but a large part of her wondered if she was foolish to trust him.

“As you likely guessed from my message,” Rache said, his back to the wall, his masked gaze toward the city rather than toward her, “I made contact with one of the officers in the terrorist organization.”

“And told them you’ve kidnapped Casmir and will bring him to them to kill. I assume.”

“That’s the gist of it. They gave me coordinates and a meeting time—three hours after midnight. It’s in the middle of the Zachowac Kingdom Forest.”

“Do you think that’s where their base is? That it’s camouflaged somehow?” Kim had been to the Kingdom Forest with some friends at the university. It covered hundreds of thousands of acres, and hundreds of inches of precipitation fell every year, turning it into a lush temperate rainforest. Parts of it were remote, but she was sure park rangers covered the territory regularly and that satellites would have picked up the installation of any structures. There were mountains and volcanos out there. She supposed something could have been built underground.

“Possibly. It could just be a meeting point they chose because it’s in the middle of nowhere.” Rache faced her for the first time. “They agreed to pay me twenty thousand crowns for Dabrowski, and they don’t care if I bring him in dead or alive. All they said was that if he was dead, they’d run a DNA check to make sure I wasn’t fooling them with the wrong guy. They said they would know what to look for.”

Kim digested that. Even though she couldn’t see his face through his mask, from the way he looked steadily at her, she suspected he wanted her to twig to something.

“Implying they know who your clone progenitor is?”

“That was my takeaway, and it’s what I’ve suspected since I first learned of Dabrowski’s existence and that he’s being targeted. Someone is worried history will repeat itself.”

“Casmir.”

“What?”

“He gave you underwear and pizza. I think you can call him Casmir now.”

“When I kidnap him, I’ll discuss how he feels about such familiarity.”

“I’m sure he would be fine with it.” Kim tilted her head, watching him, suspecting more than the desire to chat had brought him to her balcony. “If they know who he is and want to kill him because of it, is it possible they know who you are?”

“That’s my fear. My contact didn’t say anything to suggest it, but my sixth sense, if you will, is telling me this is a bad idea, that we’re both walking into a trap.”

“Are you going to back out?”

“No.”

“Why not? I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I don’t want to see Casmir—you and Casmir—get killed.”

“I’m delighted that you shoehorned me into that sentence, however parenthetically.”

Kim spread her hand, not sure what he wanted from her.

He slipped a hand into a pocket and withdrew a small device. It looked like the kind of thing a hunter used to keep track of his hounds in the forest.

“I installed a tracking chip under my skin. My first officer on the Fedallah has a device to track me, but the ship is in a very high orbit, doing its best to avoid detection, and I brought down the only shuttle marked with fake identification tags. For them to mount a rescue, it would take time and put them in a lot of danger. As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re all wanted dead by the king.”

Kim nodded.

Rache handed the device to her. “If a full day and a night pass and you don’t hear from me, but my chip still appears on the tracker, then I suggest you give this to Superintendent Van Dijk. You can say it’s me, or you can say it’s Da—Casmir. Whatever seems right to you—whatever seems more likely to incite her to send a dozen ships full of armored men. I’m going to assume that I’ll be in the terrorist compound and that it will lead them to the Black Stars.”

“Are you imagining yourself as being dead or unconscious somewhere while this is happening?”

“I’m just assuming that if we’re able to enact our plan, then we’ll have done it by the end of a day and a night. If we haven’t by then…” Rache shrugged.

“Why are you doing this if you deem that a possibility? Look, I release you from your favor if that’s what’s holding you to that course. I can’t believe you regularly walk into situations you believe you might not walk out of. I’m positive you don’t, or the Kingdom would have caught up with you years ago.”

“What would you have instead? For me to paint your peeling windowsill over there? Or to carry your groceries the next time these people let you out to shop for yourself? This is something that would mean something to you and be a proper repayment for the service you did for my men. I do not intend to go down without a fight, trust me.” He bowed and sprang to the balcony railing, leaving the device in her hand.

“Rache!” she blurted.

He paused and looked back.

She wanted to tell him again not to do it, but it was the best lead the city—the Kingdom—had about these terrorists. Casmir was crafty, and Rache had to be just as crafty. If anyone could survive having a trap sprung on them, it had to be they. And whether Rache was doing it for humanitarian reasons or not—she suspected not—they could, if they succeeded, save a lot of lives.

“Be careful,” she said quietly, wondering if it was the right thing.

While perched on the railing, he gave her a deep, knightly bow, then jumped off into the darkness.

14

Qin donned her full combat armor and stood in front of the mirror in her cabin to sweep her hair back into a braid. Next, she jammed two DEW-Tek pistols into holsters on her utility belt, followed by a dagger and a bandolier of explosive rounds for her anti-tank gun. She grabbed that from its mount in the closet and slung it across her torso on its strap.

She looked at the toy robot sitting in a case with one of her minotaur candles and nodded to herself. She was doing the right thing. As a whole, this planet might not love her, but certain people had been kind, and this was Casmir’s home, and he needed her. Whether he’d asked for her help or not.

He should have asked. All he’d done was request that Bonita drop off his battle robots, but if he was going to take down these terrorists, he would need intelligent, thinking people. With giant guns.

She grinned into the mirror, fangs glinting. “People like me.”

She stepped into the corridor and almost crashed into Asger. He’d come aboard that afternoon, presumably also to help Casmir with the terrorists. He wore his full knight’s armor, his pertundo on his hip, his cloak vibrant on his back, his jaw shaven, and his hair loose about his shoulders. Handsome.

“Qin.” He nodded to her.

“Asger.” She nodded back, then strode past him.

“Where are you going?”

“Same place as you.”

“To stalk Casmir and make sure he doesn’t get himself killed?”

“I thought I’d suggest he save time and take me with him from the start.” Qin hopped into the ladder well as the ship tilted, banking for a landing.

The last time Qin had looked out a porthole, it had been too dark to see anything, but she knew they’d been flying along the coast.

“That would make things easier.” Asger followed her down the ladder. “But I haven’t noticed that Casmir likes to make my life easier.”

“You should discuss your concerns with him. He seems open to self-improvement as a person.”

“He’d probably just apologize and have his mother send me underwear.”

“I’m still agog that he gave the notorious Tenebris Rache underwear. Who does that?”

“Casmir,” Asger said.

“Right.”

They entered the cargo hold together and found Casmir rubbing down his robots as if they were horses fresh from the races. Or maybe he was making sure they were properly lubricated. Several of them stood, or sat on their treads, near the cargo hatch, rattling in sync with the deck as the Dragon descended.

Since the ship was going in for a landing, Qin assumed that nothing outside alarmed Bonita. Was Rache even there yet? It was ten minutes before midnight.

“Casmir,” Asger said. “We’re about to land.”

“Yes, I know.” Casmir waved his rag at him. “Thank you.”

“I meant to imply that you should be in armor, or at least a galaxy suit for a modicum of protection.”

“Since I’m assuming the role of captured prisoner, I thought it would be most believable if I were unarmed and unarmored.”

“Think again. Go put on a galaxy suit.”

Qin watched, curious if Casmir would accept the order. Asger carried his noble haughtiness with him at all times, but it especially came out when he gave orders—and expected to have them followed.

“Rache can say he captured you in it, if anyone asks, and didn’t want to strip you down and have to look at your chest hair.”

“No terrorist is going to believe that a pirate would care about my chest hair.”

Asger’s eyes narrowed. “Put on a galaxy suit, or I’ll put you in one myself. Forcibly.” His hand rested on the head of his pertundo, as if a giant telescoping halberd could help a person get dressed. Get undressed, perhaps.

But the threat worked. Casmir thrust his rag and can of spray lubricant at Asger and ran off to change.

“You have to deal firmly with engineers and scientists,” Asger told Qin. “They’re special.”

“Of course.”

The ship settled, and a faint whistling reached Qin’s ears. Wind railing at the freighter?

“Nobody’s here yet,” Bonita said over the comm.

“That’s good,” Asger said. “Casmir is still dressing for the party.”

Long seconds passed, and Bonita said, “A shuttle is coming. It’s registered as belonging to a local furniture delivery company.”

“Sounds like a cover,” Asger said. “Unless a lot of people living under glaciers order midnight deliveries of end tables and bedroom sets.”

“Rache wouldn’t be able to come down in something the Kingdom might recognize as his,” Qin agreed.

“It’s landing right in front of us,” Bonita said, “close enough to pick Viggo’s nose.”

“Really, Captain,” Viggo said. “If I had a nose, that would be quite unsanitary.”

Perhaps not coincidentally, four robot vacuums whirred into the cargo hold, darting between the treads and legs of Casmir’s stationary army. One vacuum climbed the side of something half the size of a tank, vrooming happily.

Casmir returned in one of Bonita’s borrowed galaxy suits. “This is actually a good idea. If the terrorists don’t strip me right away. I grabbed an oxygen tank, too, in case I get an opportunity to toss some of Kim’s vials. I gave most of them to my robot friends and wrote a deployment program, but I have a few more in my satchel.”

“Weapons?” Asger asked him.

Casmir patted his satchel gently.

“Real weapons?”

“I don’t have any,” Casmir said.

“Doesn’t this ship have an armory?”

Qin nodded, though she’d never seen Casmir visit it.

“I don’t think you fully grasp the nuances of the clever ploy Rache and I have devised.” Casmir walked to the control panel and hit the button to open the hatch.

“You mean the plan he came up with and manipulated you into following?” Asger asked.

“I see you’ve been talking to Bonita.”

An icy breeze whipped in as soon as the hatch opened, making Qin glad she had more fur than hair on her neck.

“Brr.” Casmir leaned out the hatch and looked toward the white shuttle resting near them. The advertising on the side promised the finest furniture selection anywhere on the planet and free delivery. “Another reason the galaxy suit was a good idea. For its body-warming capability.”

“And the ability to block bullets and DEW-Tek bolts.”

“Yes, but especially the heat. Look, you can see one of the glaciers.”

Qin leaned out. She’d never seen a glacier.

The clouds obscured the moon, but the white cliff rising behind the shuttle and encroaching on the pebbly beach was easy to see with her night vision. As bright as the ice was, it might have been easy to see without night vision.

Casmir pointed as the shuttle hatch opened. Nobody came out.

“I guess my date isn’t going to come over and pick me up personally.” Casmir faced them before heading out. “I’ve given Bonita a device to track my transponder signal.” He waved his arm. “She’s supposed to follow and drop off the robots. Asger, if you’re willing, I’d like you to go in with the robots. Hopefully, we’re going to lead you right to the base, and you can call in the Kingdom Guard as soon as you’re sure of the location. Depending on how deep in the forest that is, it could take them a couple of hours to get there. You may have to do your best to keep the terrorists from escaping when they realize what’s happening. I’ll try to help from inside.”

“Uh, Casmir. I don’t think you realize what this means.” Asger waved at his chest—his armor—and his pertundo, then pointed at Qin and her armor. “We’re coming with you.”

Casmir blinked. “But you can’t.” Several robots rolled or walked forward and headed through the hatchway and onto the windy beach. “They can. I hope.”

“You’re taking the robot army with you?” Qin asked. “I thought the captain was bringing them later.”

“Most of them, yes, but I need a few allies along that I can count on. Someone scanning Rache’s ship shouldn’t be able to sense robots.”

“You can count on us.” Asger hopped down to the beach.

Casmir scrambled out after him. “But someone with good scanners would detect you aboard.”

“Darn.” Asger jogged past the robots and strode toward the shuttle.

Qin jumped down and ran after them.

Rache stepped out of the open shuttle hatch in black combat armor, his helmet retracted but his mask and hood hiding his features.

Qin halted. Seeing him at Kim’s dinner in such an innocuous setting hadn’t managed to alleviate her fear of him—or her memories of how he and his men had slain dozens of hardened pirates while her captain had pulled her back out of the way. She’d functioned normally enough when he’d been present in the apartment—thankfully, nobody had asked her many questions—but she still shuddered at the idea of walking up and talking to the man.

Or confronting him, as Asger looked like he meant to do.

He halted a few paces away from Rache and faced him, his hand on his pertundo. Casmir ran around him to stand between them, his arms spread in a friendly manner.

“Rache, you remember Asger from dinner, I trust.”

“And our battle in the cargo hold,” Rache said coolly.

“Ah, right,” Casmir said. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“I doubt that,” Rache said without turning his focus from Asger.

“I’m coming with Casmir,” Asger stated.

Qin stopped a couple of steps away. She also wanted to argue to come, but she would wait to see what happened.

“You are not,” Rache said. “I was told to come alone, without any of my men.”

“Why would you agree to that? How much money are they paying?”

“Not enough to make such ludicrous demands,” Rache said, “but I agreed, regardless.”

“Why?” Casmir asked curiously.

Rache looked at him, or maybe at the robots filing into the shuttle behind him. “What are those, Dabrowski?”

“Just a few helpers to carry my tools. Or—” Casmir pointed to the advertising painted on the side of the shuttle, “—to help with furniture delivery.”

Qin expected Rache to object to them, the same as he was objecting to Asger, but he said, “That might actually work. They won’t show up on a scan, anyway.”

“That was my thinking,” Casmir said.

“Look,” Asger said, drawing Rache’s attention back to him. “Qin and I are coming with Casmir. If we show up on their scan, you can just say that you refused their terms when you realized it would be foolish of you to fly into a terrorist stronghold without backup.”

Qin could imagine Rache’s eyes narrowing behind that mask.

“I cannot refuse terms I already agreed to,” Rache said. “And Casmir’s scruffy band of misfits isn’t who I would want at my back going into battle.” He pointed to Casmir. “Get in the shuttle.”

“Scruffy!” If Asger had jerked his chin up any faster, he might have broken his neck. “I defeated you on that cargo ship, you arrogant ass.”

“Casmir’s robot defeated me.” Rache looked at Casmir. “Why didn’t you bring that one? The crusher. These—” he flicked a dismissive hand toward the last of eight robots rolling or climbing into the shuttle, “—look like rejects from the scrap and recycling factory.”

“You’re full of compliments today, aren’t you?” Casmir presumed to step forward and pat him on the shoulder. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of your supervillain lair?”

“Get in the shuttle,” Rache growled, pushing his hand off. He jumped through the hatch himself, heading for the pilot’s seat up front.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Casmir faced Qin and Asger, lifting his hands. “Stay with Laser, please. And my other robots.” He widened his eyes—to ask them to join the robots when Bonita dropped them off near wherever his transponder signal ended up? He must not have told Rache about that part of the plan. “Both of you. If we want any shot of this working, Rache and I better comply with their demands and not bring too many surprises along.”

“I think you’re walking into trouble,” Asger growled. “And I’m supposed to be the one at your back when you do that, not that condescending, Kingdom-hating jackass.”

“If it’s any consolation, he’s probably not going to be at my back when we walk in. He’ll beat me up, cuff me, and drag me in by my hair.”

“That’s not a consolation.”

“Sorry.” Casmir shrugged and stepped forward to pat Asger on the chest. “Thanks for wanting to come along. Also, you are definitely not scruffy. Your face and, er, naked chest were on one of my tubes of underwear. They don’t put scruffy people on underwear.”

“No, they do not.”

Casmir stepped over to hug Qin. “You’re not scruffy either.”

“Just furry?”

“It’s well-groomed fur.” Casmir grinned and released her, then waved as he strode to the shuttle. “I’ll see you both again soon!”

Qin chose not to acknowledge the weird little feeling in her gut that said maybe he would not.

As soon as Casmir jumped in, the hatch slammed shut. Qin and Asger had to scurry back to avoid the back-blast of the thrusters.

Asger growled and shook his head as the shuttle soared into the night sky. “I feel like we just sent him off with the devil.”

“Let’s hope his robots are sufficient to even the odds.”

“Let’s hope.”

* * *

Casmir settled gingerly into the co-pilot’s pod next to Rache and did his best to refrain from sending nervous glances toward his masked pilot. The shuttle took off with enough force to plaster Casmir into his seat, and he hurried to snap on the harness, already missing the smart cushioning of Bonita’s pods. The overhead lights dimmed, leaving only the illumination emanating from the control panel and the display.

The display showed the route ahead over glaciers and dark forests. Gauges showed their altitude and proximity to terrain features.

Casmir told himself not to talk, that Rache wouldn’t see this road trip as a fun opportunity for them to get to know each other, but he only managed about three minutes of silence before speaking.

“Can you tell me where we’re going and how long it’ll take to get there?”

“The Zachowac Kingdom Forest and a little over an hour. We don’t want to break the sound barrier and draw attention to ourselves, even if this is mostly wilderness.”

“Right. Agreed.”

Casmir thought about bringing up a book or video to watch, but he was too keyed up to relax and pay attention. His knee kept wobbling up and down.

Rache glanced at it. Casmir crossed his legs to trap it. He only ended up bouncing both legs.

“You take your seizure medication?” Rache asked.

“Yeah.” Casmir resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was a legitimate concern, especially if they ended up in battle together, but he hated that this strange man—this clone brother—knew about his weaknesses.

Further, he hadn’t been thinking about the possibility of seizures, but now, they were sure to be on his mind. Just because he’d been back on his medication and taking it regularly didn’t mean he was 100 percent ensured not to have one. He grimaced at the thought of collapsing and convulsing in front of the terrorist mastermind of the organization.

His eye blinked, and he sneezed.

“Your antihistamines?” Rache asked dryly.

“Yes. I was without everything for a couple of days in my castle cell, but they gave my medications back when they checked me out. It was only my shoes that they decided they couldn’t find. One guard admitted a maid threw them away because they smelled like foot odor. I guess the feet of nobles don’t smell. I know their farts don’t. Laser—uhm, Captain Lopez—said a quien tiene buenos dineros, le huelen bien hasta los pedos. I think that was it.”

Rache gave him a long look.

“My pronunciation may be off.” Casmir reminded himself of his vow not to talk and pester his pilot. Even if he continued to be curious about Rache and want to draw him out. Or, more precisely, draw information out of him. “So, how do you know Princess Oku?”

Rache faced forward again.

“Is this a no-talking trip?” Casmir asked. “I thought we might bond.”

“You just want to know what I know.”

“Yes!” Casmir wouldn’t try to play coy and deny that. “I mean, about specific things related to myself. I don’t want to know all the ways to break bones or torture people.”

Rache went back to not speaking. Did he think Casmir was being manipulative? Or did he want to refrain from connecting in any way because he meant to betray Casmir as soon as they landed?

Casmir glanced over his shoulder at the silent robots, wondering if he should have brought more. Too bad he didn’t have Zee along. Zee was worth ten of these scrounged and converted battle robots. But he hadn’t wanted to deprive Kim of her guard. He wished she were here with him for this infiltration, instead of Sir Flinty.

“I met the princess briefly during my trip to the castle,” Casmir said. “Before I knew Sir Asger was handing me over to the Guards instead of taking me for a meeting with the queen.”

“She’s smarter than she lets on. And geeky. You’d like her.”

Casmir arched his eyebrows, not sure how to handle the simple words, words spoken without anger or resentment or sarcastic dryness. “She was kind of affronted by the idea of robot bees replacing real bees.”

Rache snorted. “She prefers biology to engineering. You may like her, but she may not like you.”

“Thanks.” Casmir was the one who turned dry. “Asger has a crush on her, anyway. He reminded me that she’s in the royal seats at the arena, and I’m a janitor mopping the floor.”

“Diplomatic of him.” Rache glanced at him. “But it’s not true, you know. The Kingdom laws are a little fuzzy when it comes to clones, but you should be considered of noble blood.”

“Oh?” Casmir wasn’t that surprised at the revelation, not the way he would have been a couple of months earlier. He doubted the queen would have taken any interest in the son of a janitor. Or the clone of a janitor, rather. “Because we’re clones of who, again?”

“You haven’t figured that out yet?”

“People have been maddeningly vague. Someone who lived more than two hundred years ago. That’s all I really know. Care to enlighten me? Before we sail into possible death together?”

“I was going to give you that information if you came to work for me.”

“That job offer can’t possibly be open at this juncture. I stunned you and threw you into an escape pod with a bunch of sweaty men who were most definitely not nobles.”

“If you took off their boots and smelled their feet—or anything else—that’s your own fault. Dr. Peshlakai wouldn’t even do that. Not on what I pay him.”

Casmir pushed a hand through his hair, sensing Rache simply wouldn’t tell him. Had Kim figured it out yet, he wondered? Was she even worrying about it? She sounded so busy with the long hours of work foisted on her. He hoped she wasn’t lonely at night when she came home to that empty apartment. He knew she didn’t seem to need companionship as frequently as he did, but he suspected even she liked having a roommate around for occasional chitchat. It had been more than four years since she finished her post-doctorate work at the university and had taken a job in the private sector, but she continued to stay in their rented cottage on campus. Because it would be too much work to look for a new place and move her books, she always said. He knew better.

“You have a plan, Dabrowski?” Rache asked. “If this works as we’ve attempted to set it up, I am handing you over to the terrorists, getting paid, and walking away. I don’t know for certain that the coordinates they gave me are for a neutral location, but that’s my assumption. I doubt they’re inviting me into their secret base.”

“I have a plan. I don’t know if it will be sufficient.”

“Tell me. I’ll critique it.”

Casmir raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t tell if Rache seriously wanted to help or if he was setting Casmir up to be mocked. Or, worse, if he wanted to know so he could warn the terrorists. Casmir was banking on Rache genuinely being appreciative of Kim having saved his men’s lives and feeling honor bound to repay the debt. He would have felt honor bound to repay it. But did Rache?

What if Rache was simply setting him up to get killed? Logically, Casmir didn’t know why he would go through all this trouble if that was what he wanted—he could shoot Casmir right now or could have done it at Kim’s dinner, if that was his wish. What would he gain from turning him over to these terrorists? A greater revenge than simply shooting him?

Rache looked over at him. “I am the commander of a military ship. It’s possible I could offer suggestions for improvement.”

“I was debating if I could trust you or if you’re setting me up.”

“Such as you did when I walked into that cargo hold and your knight jumped me?”

Casmir almost claimed that he hadn’t known Asger was there—which was true—but he clamped down on his tongue. Maybe it would be better to have Rache believing he was more of a genius than he was.

“Maybe,” he said. “Kim thinks I can trust you.”

“Does she? Huh.”

“She’s not very good at reading people.”

Rache looked at him again. Maybe it was a frown. Who could tell?

“She’s the first to admit that,” Casmir said. “I’m not spilling any secrets. And my plan is to send my robot army in as soon as I have coordinates. Barring us receiving any, they’ll simply track me after a suitable delay.”

“I hope those robots are sturdier than they look. I’d wager a few DEW-Tek bolts would knock them to pieces. Or a good kick.” Rache glanced back. “Or a stiff wind.”

“Disparaging my robots isn’t very brotherly.”

“No? I thought it seemed like the kind of thing siblings would do.”

Casmir leaned back in his seat as the dark forest zoomed past below them. Here and there, the lights of towns sprawled for a few miles, but this far north, the population wasn’t very dense. Odin’s northern continent was much larger than the two southern land masses combined, but a lot of it hugged the Arctic Circle.

Rache turned them southwest eventually, into the Kingdom Forest. Lighted clumps signifying urban areas grew less frequent, the vast wilderness below set aside for preservation. Was the terrorist camp out there somewhere? Or was this just a neutral meeting place?

The comm beeped, and Rache answered it.

“I said not to contact me.”

“Er, it’s me, Captain. Dr. Peshlakai.”

Casmir raised his eyebrows. Whoever the doctor was, he was apparently not the most likely person to comm Rache from his ship.

“Ah, go ahead.”

“Someone on the planet contacted me. He, uh, offered me some money.”

“For what?”

“Your medical records or at least the results of a DNA test.”

Casmir’s eyebrows climbed higher. Rache didn’t react at all. His hands were still on the control panel.

“He offered five thousand crowns if I agreed to transfer the file. He didn’t give his name or any identifying information. I thought about trying to get an address or something from him, but I figured I would just get myself in trouble or inadvertently give away something if I attempted to be clever. So I hung up. I just thought you should know.”

“Yes,” Rache said. “Thank you, Doctor. That is useful information.”

“It’s useful to know people want to know about you?”

“Always. Rache, out.”

Casmir started to ask if Rache thought it was the terrorists, but his fingers danced across the comm panel, and another voice came over the speaker.

“Yes, Captain. Amergin, here.”

“Dr. Peshlakai said someone commed him from the planet. See if you can trace it and give me the origin point.”

“I’ll wrangle up what details I can find.”

Rache closed the channel.

“You don’t think the terrorists—I’m assuming it’s the terrorists you’re supposedly selling me to that are looking you up—would have thought to bounce their signal through a free relay to hide where it came from?” Casmir asked.

“I’m sure they did, but Amergin is good. I only hire people who are good.”

Casmir wondered if he should take that as a compliment, since Rache had offered to hire him. Probably not. There had been robot-disparaging since then.

Rache drummed his fingers on the control panel, his first sign of agitation. “We’re almost to the rendezvous point. I could bank and circle a few times, pretend I can’t find a good landing spot, but it’s likely we’re already on whatever scanning equipment they have.”

“Are you having second thoughts about the meeting?”

Rache snorted. “I’ve been having second thoughts about the meeting since I set it up. I think we’re flying into a trap.”

“You think they know who you are already?”

“They wouldn’t have commed Peshlakai if they were sure, but they must have suspicions. I’ve worn the mask for ten years, but it was probably inevitable that some people would connect the dots. I expected it from Royal Intelligence. I’m surprised terrorists would care and that they even found you. I bet they have someone on their team that came out of Royal Intelligence. Jager is good at alienating people.”

“I still don’t know who you are—or who I am—but is the result of your musing that you believe they want you dead too?”

“That’s my thought. That maybe someone thinks my whole career has been a ruse or a front and that I’m loyal to the king. It’s hard to imagine someone could have so much right and be so dead wrong about that.”

The comm beeped.

“There he is. Talk to me, Amergin.”

“I’m sending the coordinates now, Captain.”

“Excellent. I’ll see that you receive a bonus.” Rache closed the comm as soon as the file transferred. “If I survive the night,” he grumbled.

The location his officer had sent appeared on a corner of the display.

“That’s only fifty miles away and still in the forest,” Rache said. “Interesting. I thought they would be in the city.”

Casmir found the controls for the scanner on his side of the control panel and ran a search for life. The heat signatures of hundreds of types of animals in the lush forest below registered, but when he stretched toward the coordinates, he didn’t get any sign of large structures or heat signatures that would have signaled a power plant or energy use.

“Could they have built something out here without anyone knowing?” Casmir asked. “Would a slydar hull work on a building? Or is it possible, if they came from another system, that they also have the type of stealth generator that the astroshaman cargo ship had?”

“I never got to look at that. Someone beat me up and stuffed me in an escape pod.”

“It’s good that you’re not bitter about past defeats.”

“There are three combat shuttles waiting at our rendezvous point. That’s a lot just to pick up a prisoner. I’m going to fly over them and take us toward Amergin’s coordinates.”

“What if they give chase?” Casmir doubted any terrorists in hiding would believe a furniture-delivery shuttle happened to be doing a midnight run over uninhabited forests.

“Then our flight could get interesting.”

On the scanner display, Casmir watched the three shuttles as Rache flew away from them. He wasn’t surprised when first one and then the other two zipped into the air.

“They’re coming,” he said.

“I see. Belt yourself in tight.”

Casmir already wore his harness, but he glanced back at his robots, fearing they would be flung around the cabin. He unclasped his harness and ran back, looking for cargo straps.

“Dabrowski,” Rache snapped. “That’s the opposite of belting yourself in.”

“This won’t take long.”

He hurried to tie them down while sending wireless commands to the more sentient ones with gripping devices or hand-like appendages, telling them to hold on.

The shuttle hummed as it increased velocity, and soon, Casmir’s teeth were rattling in his mouth.

“They’re gaining.” Rache sounded surprised. “This shuttle is one of the best money can buy, and they’re gaining.”

“Maybe they stole their shuttles instead of buying them.”

“That is a possibility. Hold on.”

Rache turned their nose up and angled them to the side. Orange light flared outside, brightening the treetops below, and Casmir glimpsed a massive energy bolt sizzling past before they turned fully. He flung himself into his seat and fastened the harness. Tightly.

“Two more shuttles just showed up on the scanner,” Casmir reported, frowning as they appeared out of nowhere. Or out from behind whatever invisibility shield hid the base?

Invisibility shield? Was that a thing that existed? He didn’t think so, but as Rache took the shuttle into a series of nausea-inducing dives and rolls, all Casmir could do was grip his armrests and hope he wasn’t about to die. Looking up information on the network wasn’t something he could manage at that moment.

“Why,” he groaned to himself as more g-forces than he wanted to measure pulled his cheeks back toward his ears, “why didn’t I bring motion-sickness pills?”

Rache, focused on piloting, ignored him.

“Abort?” Casmir asked through gritted teeth, closing his eyes in the hope that his stomach would revolve less if he didn’t see stars spinning on the display.

“They’re faster than we are,” Rache said with irritating calm. “Even if we turn around, we can’t escape. I’m returning fire.”

“Oh, good. Get them mad.” Casmir clamped his mouth shut, afraid more than words would come out.

The forces of the insane aerial maneuvers seemed like they were ripping him to pieces, hurling him against his harness first one way and then another, and then trying to fling him to the ceiling. He heard soft bzzts as Rache fired, but he had no idea if the shots struck or did any damage. A few orange flashes lit up the display, brightening his eyelids even though he had them clenched shut. Near misses. Another time, Casmir might have admired Rache’s ability to avoid what had to be fire coming from numerous sources. But right now, he was too busy—

He lost the contents of his stomach. They were in the middle of a dive toward the ground, so they might as well have been up in space. It made a mess.

“Sorry, sorry, erg.”

“Dear God, Casmir,” Rache said. “That’s disgusting.”

“Could we not worry about it now?” Casmir groaned again. When would this mad ride end?

“One of your robots better be able to clean my shuttle.” Three rapid bzzts sounded. “Hah, got one!”

Casmir shook his head as orange light flared again. He couldn’t believe Rache could joke—or whatever he was doing—now.

A message alert came in via Casmir’s chip, but it wasn’t from Kim, Asger, or Bonita, so he shunted it to the side for later.

A jolt came from their rear, and the shuttle felt like it tumbled head over tail in the sky. Casmir was flung against his harness so hard it gouged his chest.

“One got us. Critical.” Rache swore. “We’re going down.”

Casmir knew Thank God wasn’t the correct answer, since going down could involve landing in a fiery crash that would kill them both, but it might be worth the risk if it ended the insane flight.

“Hang on. I’m keeping the nose up the best I can, but this is going to be a hard landing. Probably halfway up in a tree.”

Casmir groaned.

“And don’t throw up again.”

“Not like… things can… get worse.” As the words came out, Casmir remembered that delicate vials of a biological agent that could make them both very sick lay nestled both in his robots and in his tool satchel, and he groaned again.

“Says the man who’s not covered in his passenger’s vomit.”

The cabin lights went out. Casmir braced himself. The display went out, too, as did the rest of the instrumentation. They couldn’t see a thing.

Thunks and screeches came from all sides. Tree branches tearing at the hull. They ricocheted off something hard enough to alter their trajectory. Rache growled and struggled to right the shuttle. They didn’t land in a tree, but they hit the ground hard enough to bounce three times. Casmir kept from screaming—barely.

They crashed into a boulder with a horrible wrenching sound and came to a halt, the nose in the air, the deck at a thirty-degree angle. Casmir was disoriented, but at least his nausea faded when their movement stopped.

It was already dark, save for a few glowing power indicators on the robots, and it grew silent. Deathly silent.

Casmir tried to swallow but couldn’t. His mouth was drier than an asteroid. His entire body ached. He could hardly believe he wasn’t unconscious.

“Rache?” he rasped.

No answer.

“Rache?”

Nothing.

15

Kim paced the balcony, shivering as the sea breeze swept a damp mist inland, but not thinking of going inside. She had some notion that the tracking device Rache had given her would have fewer barriers to penetrate if she was out here rather than in the apartment. Not a scientifically sound notion, she admitted, but she pointed it inland, toward the tiny dot showing his location two hundred miles away.

Earlier, it had been moving at the pace of an airplane or shuttle, first up the coast, and then southwest, toward the Zachowac Kingdom Forest. Now, it wasn’t moving at all. Had they arrived at their destination? Or had something happened? Their flight had been erratic right before the dot stopped moving.

Why hadn’t she volunteered to go with them? Or at least on the Dragon where she would be close enough to help? Casmir hadn’t fully explained his plan about his robot army going in after him, but she gathered he had given her vials to some of the ground robots and air drones to deploy if they could find the base.

She wasn’t a combat expert and couldn’t likely do much to help, but Casmir wasn’t a combat expert either. And he was going. Because the king had asked—or ordered—him and because he wanted to stop the terrorists. She didn’t think she was any less qualified than he. She could have found a way to help. Instead, she’d been too worried to break what was essentially house arrest to help a friend.

She slammed her palm onto the balcony dining table.

A message came in via her chip, and she jumped, half-expecting it to be some downstairs neighbor complaining that she needed to keep it down. But it was a Scholar Chava Moskowitz. The name was familiar, but it took Kim a moment to place it. Scholar Moskowitz taught linguistics at the college where Casmir’s father worked, and she was one of their neighbors. Kim had chatted with her a few times when she’d allowed Casmir to lure her to dinners at his parents’ apartment, which had often turned out to be large affairs with far more than his immediate family.

Scholar Sato, the message read, have you returned to Odin? I heard Casmir was back, and Irena mentioned you’d been traveling together. I was wondering if you might know where Casmir is. I was supposed to have Sabbath dinner with his parents tonight, but they’re not home, and there’s furniture knocked over in their apartment and decorations on the floor. I already reported this to the police, and I just tried to send a message to Casmir, but he hasn’t responded yet. Do you know where he is?

Kim set the tracking device down and flattened her hands against the table. Casmir’s parents were missing? He would be devastated. Maybe they had been robbed, not kidnapped. But if they’d promised Scholar Moskowitz a dinner, they wouldn’t have gone out. And—she dredged up what she knew of their religion—they wouldn’t likely have gone out to shops or a movie on Sabbath night.

The king tasked him with dealing with the terrorists, Kim replied. I’ll try to get in touch with him.

Dealing with terrorists? How is a robotics professor supposed to do that?

He said he would use his wits.

Dear God.

Kim ended the message and looked at the tracking device again. The dot still wasn’t moving.

“Zee,” she called into the corridor. “I have an errand for you.”

* * *

It took three tries for Casmir to unfasten his harness buckle. He told himself it was because of the dark, not because his hands were still shaking. He managed not to fall, though the deck was tilted like a mountainside and he had to keep a firm grip on his seat.

“Rache?” he asked for the third time.

His co-conspirator did not answer. Casmir couldn’t tell if he was breathing. The sound of his own breathing was echoing loudly in his ears.

Fortunately, he still had a connection with his small robot army. He ordered them to free themselves, open the hatch, and climb out. If they could. Rache had joked about landing in a tree. Casmir didn’t think that had happened, but with the display and all the power out, he couldn’t see outside.

Faint scuffles sounded as his robots tried to obey him. Maybe he’d tied them down too well and would have to free them himself. After he checked on Rache. What if he was dead?

A sick lurch went through Casmir’s stomach, and it had nothing to do with motion. He groped his way to Rache’s seat and tapped his arm. The combat armor should have protected his body, but Rache hadn’t been wearing his helmet while he flew.

Rache was still in his harness, but he didn’t react to the tap. Casmir reached toward his neck to take his pulse, but his knuckles bumped into something hard. He felt around in confusion. It was metal, bumpy, and—oh. The hull had been pushed inward by something.

He found Rache’s head still intact, but the hull was against it. It must have knocked him out. Or worse.

Swallowing, Casmir tugged off Rache’s hood and mask. Something warm smeared his hand. Blood? Not good. Casmir found Rache’s throat. A strong pulse beat under the skin.

“That’s better,” Casmir muttered. “Because I don’t know how to fly us out of here.” He worked around the inward bulge of the hull to unbuckle Rache’s harness. “If this shuttle is capable of flying again.”

He was skeptical of that. Smoke tickled his nostrils.

The hatch opened with a thunderous wrenching sound that made Casmir jump, lose his footing, and almost slide down the deck to the back of the shuttle. One of his robots had freed itself and was poised in the hatchway, silhouetted against a tree-filled night. The moon must have come out, for there was a little light, if not much. It was one of the treaded robots, and it debated the drop-off before rolling out. It landed on what looked and sounded like ferns or maybe broad-leaved zorcrest—there was a lot of native foliage out in these preserved forests.

Casmir gave up on trying to lift Rache out of the seat—even if the deck had been level and the hull located where it should have been, that would have been a challenge. He scrambled over to free the rest of the robots and ordered a bipedal one to help. It lifted Rache far more easily than any human could have and sprang out into the night.

The buzz of an engine grew audible, filling the still night air.

“I suppose those are the people who hit us,” Casmir whispered. “Looking to finish the job.”

He got the rest of the robots out, then rushed after the one that had Rache. The forest floor was covered with vines, shrubs, logs, and ferns taller than Casmir, so it wasn’t easy going. Even though it wasn’t raining, dew covered all the foliage, and he was glad his galaxy suit kept him dry.

“Set him down there,” he said, then remembered to give the mental command over the network. These robots weren’t as sophisticated as Zee.

Casmir hurried forward to catch Rache as the robot dislodged him without any gentleness. Casmir settled him between two ferns.

“This would be a good time for you to wake up, Rache,” he whispered, glancing upward as the engine roar grew louder.

Their shuttle had broken dozens of branches on its way down, carving out a clearing of a sort, and Casmir could see up to the night sky where clouds half covered the moon.

“Are there any supplies in the shuttle I need to get? A first-aid kit, perhaps? Weapons?” Casmir activated the night-vision program in his contacts and started back toward the hatch. It was weak compared to what someone with goggles or ocular implants would have, but it helped him see the forest around him.

And when the enemy shuttle roared into view, he had no trouble seeing it.

Casmir skittered back. It was almost on top of them.

Orange flared from twin weapons under its nose, and bright energy bolts zipped down from above.

Cursing, Casmir turned his back and ran toward Rache. One of the bolts slammed into the earth, sending dirt and foliage flying everywhere. The other struck the shuttle, and it blew up.

The shockwave sent Casmir tumbling on top of Rache. Shrapnel joined the chunks of dirt raining down. Casmir did his best to protect Rache’s head and face from further damage. Something needled into his back, and he couldn’t keep from crying out.

Overhead, the enemy craft banked. Was it coming back to fire again? Nothing was left of Rache’s shuttle.

But the enemy’s scanners would sense their heat signatures, Casmir realized. He ordered the robot to heft Rache again and for the rest of his mechanical crew to do the best they could to traverse the rough terrain. There wasn’t anything close to a road or a trail out here.

The shuttle fired again, blasting the wreckage into a thousand pieces. Casmir and Rache were definitely not flying back to civilization in that.

At first, Casmir simply headed out into the dark, with no direction in mind, but he’d been watching when Rache’s officer sent the coordinates of the person who’d commed the doctor. He found the numbers on his chip’s memory and pulled up a map and plugged them in.

Given the way the night was going so far, he expected to be at least fifty miles from the place. He was shocked that they were only three miles away. Traversing three miles without a trail through this dense undergrowth wouldn’t be easy, but it was an attainable goal.

Not that Casmir knew what to do if he managed to arrive at those coordinates. Especially if Rache didn’t wake up.

No, that wasn’t true. He had a plan. To sneak in, verify the location of the base, then send it to Asger, who would comm his knight and Guard allies for backup. Meanwhile, Casmir would disperse Kim’s biological agent and send his robots in for a distraction to keep the enemy busy until the main force arrived.

His plan had never involved Rache helping him. It hadn’t involved one of his robots having to carry Rache, either, but the bipedal porter-75 was strong. All of his robots could handle this. Those with treads were having an easier time navigating the foliage than he was. They simply mowed through the undergrowth or rolled over it. As soon as Casmir realized they were leaving a path, he ordered the bipedal robots to follow it, and he also walked in their wake. Until the enemy shuttle returned—with reinforcements.

Several combat vessels flew in the night sky, back and forth in a search pattern. Every time they were close, Casmir hid in the shadow of a tree. Fortunately, the trees here were six feet in diameter and hundreds of feet tall. He wouldn’t put it past the terrorists to try to mow down the forest to get at them, but he hoped all the foliage, and perhaps the presence of animal life, made it difficult for their scanners to pinpoint him and Rache.

A couple of times, the shuttles dropped bombs between the trees. The forest shook, and birds woken by the booms shrieked. A wolf howled in the distance, answered by the crack-crack-cracks of a nocturnal tree darter. The blasts were close enough to see, but none came as close as the first ones had. Casmir imagined the shuttles as destroyers dropping depth charges and hoping to get lucky.

After a half hour, Rache finally stirred, groaning and lifting his head. He was still slung over the shoulder of the porter-75.

“Dabrowski,” Rache said, sounding more irritated than wan, “where’s my mask?”

That was his first question?

“Uh.” Casmir remembered pulling it off to check Rache’s pulse and wound… and then what? He’d dropped it, he was fairly certain. In the shuttle. “The bad guys blew it up.”

“I don’t suppose that’s one of your typical attempts to be funny.”

“I wish it were, but nothing funny has happened tonight. I took it off to try to figure out why you were knocked out. The hull connected with your head, in case you’re curious.”

Rache hesitated. “I had my harness on.”

“Right. Your head didn’t connect with the hull. It was as I said, the hull reached out to touch you.”

“Without asking first? Presumptuous.”

Casmir snorted, amused despite his misery. And glad Rache had a semblance of a sense of humor under all that black. “Yes, but have no fear. The shuttle suffered for its presumptions.”

Rache sighed. “Does that mean the bad guys blew it up too?”

“Twice.”

Rache shifted and tried to climb down, but one of the robot’s limbs was fastened around him to keep him in place. “Am I your prisoner now?”

“No, I’m rescuing you.”

“Oh? I feel imprisoned.”

“If I give him the order to release you, will you be able to stand up?” Casmir grunted as he stubbed his toe against a log buried under a fern. He would have bought hiking boots if he’d envisioned the night going this way.

“I won’t know until I try.”

Casmir silently ordered the robot to release Rache as he maneuvered closer to catch him if he fell. As before, the porter-75 let go abruptly. Rache tumbled off its shoulder but twisted in the air like a cat and landed in a light crouch. He didn’t even stub his toe on a log. Show off.

“I’m a little dizzy, but I can walk,” Rache said.

“Good. We’re going that way.” Casmir pointed into the tree-filled gloom.

He expected Rache to say that the forest looked the same in all directions, but he must have already loaded the coordinates onto his own map. “The base is only a mile away?”

“Or the phone booth where your doctor’s contact made his comm call.”

“Right. I suppose we won’t know until we get there. I’m surprised we’re that close.”

“My robot carried you two miles. Don’t forget to tip him.”

The treaded robots had pulled ahead, so once Casmir was convinced Rache wouldn’t pitch over, he hurried to catch up. A message came in from Kim.

Casmir, are you able to speak right now?

Casmir glanced around at the dark forest. Yes. Until something jumps out from behind the trees and starts shooting at us.

Is that likely?

We were shot down, and we’re on foot. It seems inevitable. But go ahead and give me your news. Casmir remembered the message that had come in earlier when he’d been airsick. It had been from one of his parents’ colleagues. He’d been too busy to glance at it before, but a feeling of dread crept into his stomach. Was it related to Kim’s contact?

Scholar Moskowitz messaged me. Your parents are missing, and their apartment was ransacked.

The dread threatened to turn into panic. Casmir rushed to read the earlier message. It was from Scholar Moskowitz. And yes, it reported the same thing.

He scrubbed the back of his neck and told himself that he couldn’t have done anything even if he’d read it earlier, but it didn’t matter. He felt guilty for not taking the fifteen seconds to check it.

Thank you, Kim. I… Casmir didn’t know what to say. He wanted to run over to his parents’ apartment and check it, but he didn’t even have transportation out of this forest, not now. Besides, if they were gone, all he would be doing would be looking for clues. And did he really need clues? Was there any question who had taken them?

Casmir prayed they had been taken and not something worse. So far, the terrorists had killed everyone in their path.

I’ll do something as soon as I can, he finished, knowing Kim was waiting for an answer.

Do you think it’s possible they were taken to the same base you’re trying to find?

I don’t know. Why would the terrorists want them?

They know you’re coming, and if they’re not a hundred percent sure Rache is on their side, they may feel they need an additional lever on you.

Casmir shook his head. All the evidence suggested that the terrorists simply wanted him dead. Why would they need levers to make that happen? Did they think he was such a mastermind at stealthy incursions that they wouldn’t find him unless they dangled his parents as bait? He couldn’t imagine what in his life history would lead them to believe that. The résumé he’d filed with the university didn’t mention stealth.

I’ll keep my eye out just in case, he told Kim, then grimaced, because that meant he needed to do more than put his hand on the wall of the base and comm Asger to order an attack. He needed to hunt around inside and find his parents before any kind of air strike started.

Do you need help?

I’ve got your biological agent and… Rache.

Neither of those is likely to have your back in a fight.

Tell me about it.

I sent Zee with a tracking device to find you. Technically, to find Rache, but it sounds like you’re together. It looks like you’re a couple hundred miles away, and I don’t know his max speed, so I don’t know how quickly he’ll get there… but if you can dawdle, maybe he can have your back.

Casmir’s first instinct was to protest—if his parents had been kidnapped, surely Kim might be a target too—but she had the Royal Intelligence bodyguards outside of her apartment. She ought to be safe. Besides, how many levers would the kidnappers think they needed against him?

“Just one,” he muttered, checking the time.

Zee maxed out at about sixty miles an hour, assuming he ran the whole way here and didn’t find other transportation, and the lack of roads out here would slow even him down. Casmir doubted he would make it out here before dawn. He would have to rely on his other robots.

“Is something wrong?” Rache had pulled ahead, and he paused to look back.

“Just reading some messages.” Casmir almost told Rache about his parents, but he reminded himself that they weren’t Rache’s parents. He’d never even met them. What would he care?

“Well, read faster. The person with the concussion shouldn’t be outpacing you.”

“Aren’t you genetically engineered to do everything faster than a normal human?”

“Ride one of your robots if you need to. I doubt we have much time before they make a more serious effort at finding us.”

Casmir was tempted to make sarcastic comments, but Rache was right. The buzz of engines continued to come and go as their enemies searched from above. Eventually, they would send out men on foot. Or crushers on foot. Casmir’s stomach twisted at the idea of battling them without Zee’s help.

Rache halted abruptly and looked around, his hand on his pistol.

“You feel that?” He glanced back.

Casmir shook his head, but as he walked closer, a sharp buzz of electricity crawled over his skin like ants. He jumped back, and the sensation disappeared. Rache jumped forward and turned around.

“It’s gone.” Rache looked up. “Some kind of energy field. Something that scrambles signals and hides the base from satellites and ships?”

“Can you access the network from that side?”

Rache paused. “No. Can you still?”

Casmir ran a quick search. “Yes.”

“This may actually be what you’re looking for then. Not just some small hideout in the woods. Their main base.” Rache turned and strode in the direction they had been heading.

“Wait.” Casmir held up a hand. “I need to order the rest of my robots delivered before we lose contact with the outside world.”

“There are more?” Rache looked at the ones trundling across the invisible energy field. None of them reacted to it.

“Yes.”

Casmir sent a message to Bonita. Captain, Rache and I are crossing through a barrier and believe we’re close to the enemy base. I know I was supposed to let Asger know when we located it, so he could call in reinforcements, but my parents were kidnapped earlier today, and I’m afraid they may be inside. I need to find them before the Kingdom Guard unloads all their weaponry on the place. Please bring the robots in and deploy them. They have orders on what to do. Don’t let Asger order in the troops yet. Thank you.

Bonita didn’t respond right away. Casmir hoped they hadn’t also run into trouble, but as long seconds passed, he worried they might have.

“Come on, Casmir,” Rache called from the trees ahead.

Reluctantly, Casmir passed through the barrier again. He’d said what he needed to say to Bonita. He hoped she was in a position to get the robots here and that he and Rache weren’t on their own. He wasn’t even positive Rache was fully with him. These people hated the king, and so did Rache. Casmir hoped that Rache was irked after having people try to snoop into his DNA and shoot him down. Though from what Casmir had deduced so far, Rache would likely see the former as far more of a crime than the latter.

A crunch echoed from somewhere ahead of them. A branch snapping? It sounded like something more substantial than a twig. Casmir’s robots had been making such noises all along, but none of them were that far ahead.

Rache drew his pistol. “I wish I had more firepower.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t come with an entire armory.”

“I did. It was in the back of the shuttle our enemies apparently blew up along with my mask.”

“You sound more irritated about losing the mask.”

“They won’t need bloodwork to identify me if I’m not wearing it.” Rache tapped over his shoulder, as if to verify that the helmet of his combat armor was still folded against his upper back, ready to deploy.

It didn’t appear to have been damaged in the crash, but the clear Glasnax faceplate would not hide his identity. Casmir’s borrowed galaxy suit also would not hide his identity, so if they walked into the base side by side, the resemblance would be noticeable. Probably startling to someone who wasn’t expecting it.

Up ahead, faint blue light appeared through the trees. For a moment, Rache was silhouetted, his short, dark hair an oddity after Casmir had seen him so often with his head hooded. Rache sprang for cover and disappeared from Casmir’s sight.

More crunches came from up ahead. It sounded like vehicles or moving machinery. The snapping of wood echoed through the forest. Casmir envisioned logging robots sent out to attack them.

A touch to his shoulder made him jump. Rache had circled back to stand near him.

“I’m not able to use my chip to message you, so we’ll have to stick to voice,” Rache whispered, the words barely audible over the snaps and crunches. “Can you send your robots out for a distraction? I’m going to scout ahead, but I assume someone up there will be able to detect heat signatures and will be gunning for me.”

“I suppose there’s no chance that they’re not looking for us and we can sneak in the back door.”

Rache gave him a scathing look before ordering his helmet into place. “They shot us down on their doorstep, Dabrowski. They know we’re here.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Hide behind a tree and stay out of trouble.” Rache flicked a finger at Casmir’s galaxy suit. “If they have serious firepower, that won’t save you.”

“Oh, I know. Hiding is always an integral part of my plans.”

“I bet.”

Rache left, his black armor helping him disappear into the shadows. Or maybe it was whatever elite stealth abilities mercenaries learned when they became wanted by the law.

Casmir stepped behind a tree, hiding from the blue light, though he didn’t yet know the source of it. Things were moving in front of it. Long, ominous shadows shifted through the trees.

“Begin Plan B,” Casmir told his robots, realizing he couldn’t send instructions to them via the global satellite network any longer. That barrier kept him from accessing it. Fortunately, they had auditory sensors, and he’d preprogrammed the robots with routines to follow that should be sufficient for Rache’s distraction. “Do not deploy the vials yet.”

There was no point in that until they were inside of… whatever was up there. A building, he hoped. A building with his parents in it, ideally right up front in some foyer, so they would be easy to rescue. Did terrorist lairs have foyers?

It didn’t matter. He would find them. Casmir clenched his fist as the robots shambled off toward the light.

The bzzt of a DEW-Tek weapon drifted back. Rache? Or someone firing at Rache?

Casmir shifted his weight behind his tree, tempted to get closer so he could see what they faced. It would be wiser to stay back and let Rache handle this, but he didn’t know how fully he could trust his twin.

Hoping he wasn’t being an idiot, Casmir moved closer, darting from one tree to the next. The blue light and whatever was moving around up there made uneven shadows, and he tripped more than once. Somehow, he was certain Rache never tripped when he was sneaking about.

It didn’t take long to reach the edge of the trees. They stopped abruptly as if they had been clearcut by logging machines. Maybe his earlier guess hadn’t been far off.

But the machines tramping around in front of a cliff and firing into the woods weren’t for logging. They were Quasar Stalker combat robots, deadly on land and in space. He’d never seen one in person, as they were manufactured in another system, but he’d seen videos on the network. They looked like bipedal insects with heavy armored carapaces and weapons for arms and antennae.

He counted ten of them stomping about, each more than twice the size of a man in combat armor. They made Zee seem small, and he was positive they would give crushers a good battle. But what were they out here guarding? That cliff? He didn’t see a building or a tunnel entrance.

Casmir, only when he was certain none of the Stalkers were pointed in his direction, eased his head out far enough to look left and right along the base of the cliff. The ground was cleared for hundreds of meters along the base of the rock face. Branches and a few fallen logs had been left behind, but it would be difficult to cross the area without being seen by the robots and whoever else was out there.

He looked up, expecting to find drones with cameras and weapons zipping around. That was when he spotted the structure built into the side of the cliff up above, the stone walls almost matching the surrounding dark gray rock. It looked far more like some ancient fortress than a modern base. Casmir realized that was exactly what it was.

When the colony ships had landed, most people had stayed and created the civilizations that eventually evolved into the Kingdom on the northern continent and the various city-states on the southern land masses. But splinter groups had gone off into the wilds, some creating settlements that had never attained modern sophistication. Some still remained out there, and some had been abandoned.

Like this one?

Vines and foliage draped down from the tree-filled bluff high above, and Casmir wondered if this stone fortress had been lost and forgotten until the terrorists had found it.

Half of a large satellite dish was visible at the edge of the cliff, the only sign of modern tech other than illumination coming from openings halfway down the rock face—windows. They were about fifty feet above the ground. And so, he realized, numbly, was the entrance. The only entrance, at least that he could see. Those windows were more like arrow slits than something a man could crawl through.

Two guards stood on a platform that extended out a meter from the entrance, watching the robots below tramping around and firing into the woods. There was enough light for Casmir to make out faces that weren’t fully human. They appeared a mix of metal and skin. He didn’t think they were androids. They reminded him of the people who’d died in those pods on the cargo ship. Astroshamans.

He groaned. He’d been thinking earlier that it would have taken a robotics expert to reprogram the crushers. But these people, half machine and half man, could have likely done it with ease.

Had they been hired by the terrorists? Or were the astroshamans the ones behind the terrorism?

An explosion roared to one side, and metal flew in all directions. Casmir slumped against the tree he hid behind. It was one of his robots. The Stalkers had blown it up. Easily.

Casmir couldn’t remember if that robot had been carrying one of Kim’s vials, but he put up his helmet, hoping for a modicum of protection, in case it had been. He didn’t start drawing on the small oxygen tank he’d brought, not yet. Kim had said the biological agent would disperse quickly outdoors.

Another of his robots exploded, some ordnance striking it with unerring accuracy. Casmir leaned his forehead against his tree. He had a feeling this attempt at an incursion wasn’t going to last long.

What else could he try? If he failed, his parents might be killed.

16

“I’ve lost his signal,” Bonita said.

“What?” Qin leaned forward in the co-pilot’s pod, frowning at the display, dark trees whizzing past below the ship. They had been flying inland for more than a half hour, tracking Casmir’s transponder chip. “That doesn’t mean he’s dead, does it?”

“No, it just means that I’ve lost his signal. If he were dead, the chip would still be transmitting. Unless he died horribly by being pulverized or incinerated in such a manner that the chip was destroyed too.”

“An explosion might have done that,” Asger murmured from the hatchway. “Or the terrorists might have captured him, scanned him, found the transponder, and yanked it out and zapped it.”

“He was flying a minute ago,” Bonita said. “He would have to have been captured and de-transponder-ized at record speed.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now. I’m going to keep heading in the direction he was going. Maybe he passed into a shielded area.”

“They also could have crashed,” Asger said. “That could have resulted in an explosion that destroyed the transponder.”

“I had no idea knights were more pessimistic than bounty hunters,” Bonita said. “The Kingdom doesn’t have any kind of invisible barrier that could cause us to crash if we hit it, does it? I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I hadn’t seen anything like the stealth generator that astroshaman cargo ship had either.”

“Whoever these terrorists are,” Asger said, “they’re not Kingdom subjects.”

Bonita glanced at Qin, as if wondering if that had been an answer to her question.

“I’m tempted to call in my backup now.” Asger eyed the corner of the display, which showed the last spot where they’d received a signal from Casmir’s transponder. “And send them to search that area.”

“I thought we were the backup.” Bonita waved toward the deck, toward the army of robots in the cargo hold two levels below.

“Just the distraction. My knight colleagues and the Kingdom Guard are waiting to be called in. But we better check out that spot first.” Asger waved at the tiny frozen blip. “Make sure Rache didn’t kill him and throw him out the hatch.”

“Again with the pessimism. Qin, can’t you perk up our knight?”

Qin eyed the grim-faced Asger. “I’m not sure how.”

“I’m disgruntled because we didn’t get to go along,” Asger said. “And I’m afraid Casmir is going to get himself killed because he trusted that villain.”

“Wait.” Bonita held up a finger. “I just got a message from him. He said he’s going through some kind of barrier and may lose contact, but we’re supposed to bring in his robots. And hold off on calling Asger’s buddies.”

Asger frowned. “Why?”

“There are two vessels flying toward us,” Viggo announced before Bonita could check.

“Since when?” Bonita asked.

“They just appeared on my scanners. Approximately twenty miles to the west and heading in our direction.”

“Twenty miles west? That’s almost on top of the spot where Casmir’s transponder disappeared.”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell if they have weapons?”

“Yes,” Viggo said, “they do.”

“Is that railgun on the roof the only weapon this ship has?” Asger asked.

“On the outside, yes.” Bonita looked at Qin.

“I’m her other weapon.” Qin smiled.

Asger snorted. “How are you at knocking shuttlecraft out of the sky?”

Qin hopped out of her pod. “I’ll get my Brockinger anti-tank gun, and we’ll find out.”

“Are you joking?” Asger asked as she squeezed past him. “Lopez, is she joking?”

“No. Stop pestering me or go help her. Or both.”

As Qin descended the ladder toward her cabin, she heard Bonita add, “I have a feeling I’m going to need to concentrate on my flying soon.”

Qin already wore her full combat armor, and it only took her a moment to grab her Brockinger since she’d had it out earlier, intending to take it along to help Casmir. Not sure if she would end up in some ground battle eventually, she also grabbed a DEW-Tek rifle and a couple of pistols from her storage drawer.

The Dragon swooped through its first evasive maneuvers as she climbed the ladder back up to the top deck. Asger was still there, also armed and armored, standing in the corridor behind navigation and gripping a handhold.

“I’ve got visual contact,” Bonita called back. “Those are some sleek ships. And yes, they have weapons aplenty. Hang on!”

The Dragon lurched as she spun them into a turn.

Qin almost tumbled into Asger. She lunged for the ladder leading up to the roof hatch and caught herself before she struck him.

A weapon that whistled like an obnoxious firecracker streaked past somewhere nearby. Rapid-fire booms followed. The freighter dipped and rose, rolling and banking to avoid the attacks. Something caught the Dragon’s side, and the ship shuddered. Qin wasn’t used to hearing all the sounds of battle, not in space where everything happened in a vacuum of silence.

The railgun fired with a thwomp.

“Slick bastards,” Bonita growled.

“Should I climb up and try to hit them?” Qin asked.

“Climb up?” Asger asked. “On the roof? The wind will whip you off.”

A snap-crack emanated from the rear of the ship, and the lights flickered.

“Anything you can do to help,” Bonita called.

Qin climbed the ladder and opened the hatch. The wind blasted her helmet.

Bonita spun the Dragon into a roll, and Qin planted her lower body, hooking her feet under rungs so she wouldn’t fall out as the dark sky and the even darker ground alternated places over her head. She craned her neck, looking for the other ships as she raised her Brockinger to her shoulder.

The Dragon swept low and upside-down, and Qin’s helmet almost skimmed the treetops. But then she spotted the reason for the dangerous maneuver. A pursuer zoomed down after them.

The freighter’s railgun swiveled and fired. Even though the enemy shuttle was close and didn’t have much time to react, it was agile, and the pilot whipped to the side in time to evade it. But they were so close to the trees that the shuttle almost swerved into a tall one. It had to readjust its course, and Qin took advantage as it banked hard. She fired before the shuttle could pull fully away from the tree.

The Brockinger wasn’t as powerful as the railgun, but her shell struck the vessel straight on and exploded.

“Right up the nose,” she whispered.

The shuttle likely could have taken a few hits, but her attack caught it at the right moment, and the small lurch it caused made it clip the tree. The craft wheeled out of control, hit two more trees, then streaked toward the ground, streaming flames and smoke.

“That’s one!” Qin called down—or up—as the Dragon turned back to an upright position.

“Good shooting, Qin!” Bonita yelled back. “Hang on. The other one is swooping down from above.”

The enemy shuttle came into view before the warning was complete, and something that looked like a flaming torpedo streaked toward them from above. Bonita tried to get the Dragon out of the way, but there wasn’t enough time. Qin pulled herself back inside, intending to grip the rungs so she wouldn’t be knocked free, but the torpedo caught them on the top of the freighter.

A boom roared in Qin’s ears, and a massive jolt wracked the ship as she was adjusting her grip. The force flung her out, and she yelled in surprise. The Dragon kept flying as she plummeted toward the trees, trees that were hundreds of feet tall.

She twisted in the air, almost dropping her Brockinger as she lunged and tried to catch a branch. Her back struck one, tossing her sideways. She hit a trunk and bounced toward another tree. This time, she managed to grab the trunk. She skidded down ten feet, snapping branches and shearing off bark before she could stop herself.

The tree swayed violently under her weight, and she grimaced, expecting the trunk to snap off and send her plummeting again. But as the roar of the Dragon’s engine faded, the tree stopped swaying. Qin caught her breath, glad her armor had protected her from those blows, but feeling silly that she’d let herself be thrown out of the ship. Yes, they’d been struck by enemy fire, but she was supposed to be better than that. She was embarrassed that Asger had been there to witness it.

At least she was alive. Alive and—she peered through the myriad branches between her and the ground—more than a hundred feet up. Well, she had cat genes. She could climb down.

As she started down, she commed Bonita. “Captain, are you all right?”

“Yes,” came the prompt reply, “where are you?”

“I fell out,” she said at the same time as Bonita said, “Never mind. Asger just told me. Qin!”

“Sorry.”

“I need to lose this guy. We’ve taken damage. I’ll circle back as soon as we survive. Just wait where you—no, wait. You’re actually less than a mile from where—” Bonita broke off, the shriek of weapons fire filling the comm. “From where we lost the signal. Head west and see if you can figure out what happened.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“If we can’t lose this guy, I’m going to try to at least find a place to open the hatch long enough for Asger and the robots to jump out.”

“Understood,” Qin said, though she wondered how Casmir’s robots would survive a jump of more than a few feet. Zee could have, but the rest of them seemed far less malleable and durable.

“Lopez, out.”

Qin had been descending as she spoke, and she jumped the last thirty feet to the ground, her strong legs and shock-absorbent boots making that an easy matter. She used her helmet map to get her bearings, then sprinted through the damp foliage in the direction Bonita had indicated, hoping she wasn’t too late to help Casmir.

* * *

More booms and more DEW-Tek fire burst into the night. Casmir lifted his head from his tree-trunk hiding spot. Rache was out there fighting somewhere, and his remaining robots continued to tramp around, creating a distraction. Casmir shouldn’t waste that. He rested a hand on his tool satchel, the closest thing he had to weapons, and groped for something he could do.

Could he hack into the local network that the Quasar Stalkers operated on? It registered on his chip, but he’d already examined it, and there were about a dozen layers of security on it. He feared it would take hours—or months—to hack into, but as long as he was crouching in damp ferns, he might as well try. Maybe he would get lucky, as he had on that cargo ship. Admittedly, his friends had needed to render an android unconscious before Casmir could find that log-in code, but…

Before he’d done more than start one of his hacking programs running, one of the Stalkers charged away from the cliff in Casmir’s direction. He didn’t think Rache was anywhere nearby, and he gripped the bark of his tree tightly. Could it have sensed his heat signature?

Branches crunched as the Stalker came to a stop. Casmir ducked low and tried to make himself as narrow as possible. The robot’s insectoid head rotated, a pair of round crimson eyes swiveling toward the forest. Casmir knew the sensors were in a chest panel, and that the eyes were only for effect, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, they were creepy.

He couldn’t hear his breathing over the cacophony of weapons firing, but he worried the Stalker, with its exceptional auditory sensors, could. He tried to inhale and exhale as lightly as possible.

A faint crunch was his only warning. The Stalker sprinted toward him.

Casmir sprang back and raced for the trees behind him. He glimpsed the robot running on its springy legs. A heartbeat later, the tree where he’d been hiding exploded.

The boom roared in his ears, and the shockwave hurled him into the air. He flailed, trying to avoid slamming into a huge trunk right in front of him. His shoulder clipped it, and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. Not that it mattered. The Stalker knew right where he was.

It charged through flames burning up and down the stump, which was all that remained of that tree, and sprang toward him.

As soon as Casmir hit the ground, he scrambled for cover, anything that could protect him. He flung himself over a fern, damp fronds batting him in the eyes, and dove behind another tree.

The Stalker fired, and the tree erupted with a thunderous crack. The trunk pitched down toward Casmir.

He gasped and rolled to the side, flinging himself through the undergrowth to avoid it. The trunk might have hit him anyway, but it smashed against another tree, and that halted its fall. It did nothing to halt the Stalker. The agile robot sprang over a log, and its crimson eyes stared at him as it lifted its cannon-like appendage.

Even as Casmir threw himself to the side, he knew he wasn’t fast enough to dodge. No normal human would be.

A black figure sprang onto the Stalker’s back.

Zee? No, it was Rache in his black combat armor.

He roared, gripped the robot’s head, and twisted and yanked it off with inhuman strength. Shorted wires spat and hissed. Rache jammed something down into the headless stump and sprang away.

“Move!” he shouted.

Casmir jumped up and ran deeper into the woods. An explosion roared right behind him, and shrapnel pelted him in the back. Thankfully, the galaxy suit protected him somewhat, keeping the shards from penetrating, but one piece was large enough to knock him over again.

Something grabbed Casmir from behind, and he almost yelled in alarm before he realized human hands held him, not robot grippers. Rache lifted him to his feet and pulled him behind a copse of trees. He was panting inside his helmet, dents and melt marks marring his armor, but his eyes had a wild gleam, and he was grinning.

“Thanks,” Casmir said.

Rache slapped him on the shoulder, almost sending Casmir into another tree.

“Where did you get explosives?” Casmir asked.

“Stole them from a robot I took down,” Rache said. “We have to get inside. Running around out here and fighting the cannon fodder is going to get us killed.”

“You don’t think going inside might also accomplish that?”

“We need to find who’s in charge.”

“To negotiate with him?”

“To kill him. Cut off the head, and the snake dies.”

“Little known scientific fact,” Casmir said. “Severed snake heads can still bite for up to an hour after decapitation.”

“Maybe we can round up enough ordnance to blow up their base from out here. The whole cliff.” Rache waved toward it. “That old fortress built into it looks like it could collapse without much effort.”

Rache turned, as if to enact his idea right then.

Casmir lunged and grabbed his arm. “You can’t. My parents might be in there.”

“What?”

“I just found out, not an hour ago. They were kidnapped from their apartment. I don’t know they’re in there, but I’m afraid they might have been picked up to ensure my cooperation.”

Rache looked toward the cliff again. Another of the Quasar Stalkers stomped into view beyond the trees, maybe wondering what had happened to its buddy.

“All right. This way.” Rache drew Casmir along a line parallel to the cliff, keeping the trees between them and their enemies.

Another boom erupted, followed by metal raining against stone and wood, and Casmir knew another of his robots had been destroyed. There couldn’t be more than five left. Once they were gone, nothing would remain to distract their enemies, nothing to keep all those Stalkers from charging into the woods and mowing down Casmir and Rache.

“We’re going to have to go back to the idea of going inside,” Rache said. “Find the boss, make him tell you where your parents are.”

“The entrance is fifty feet up.” Casmir grunted as he stumbled over another hidden log. “And there were two astroshamans standing on the platform, guarding it.”

“I saw. They’re only partially armored. Their heads are vulnerable.”

“To what? They’re way up there. And we’re—”

“I have jet boots.” Rache pointed at his feet.

“Oh, right. So you can get in. Uh, can you carry me up there?” Normally, Casmir wouldn’t have volunteered to help storm an enemy base, but staying out here would be a death sentence.

“Maybe. Do you weigh more than a bunch of comic books, two pizzas, and a toy robot kit?”

“Uh, probably not much more. That didn’t exceed the weight allowance and make you crash, did it?”

“No. It just altered the handling noticeably.” Rache turned, putting his back to him. “Climb on—wait.”

One of the Stalkers raced between the trees and toward them. Casmir sprang to the side. Rache charged right at it. Robot and man hit like two wrecking balls slamming into each other and bouncing off. The Stalker struck a tree. Rache flew ten feet, landed on his feet, and sprang toward it again.

The agile robot recovered before he reached it. Whirling and blocking, it kept Rache from gaining a grip.

Rache fired twice with his pistol. The bolts did nothing to damage the Stalker.

The robot leveled one of its cannons at him. Rache flung himself to the side a split second before an energy blast burned through the air. It slammed into a three-foot-wide trunk and snapped it. The tree pitched over, startling Rache, and for the first time ever, Casmir watched him lose his footing.

The Stalker rushed him.

“Look out!” Casmir shouted—uselessly.

Rache regained his footing, but the swift robot would have barreled into him. Something barreled into it first. One of Casmir’s bipedal robots. It and the Stalker clattered into the undergrowth at Casmir’s feet.

With the Stalker busy battling another foe, Rache recovered and had time to yank out another explosive. He waited until he could leap in, then jumped atop the Stalker and, as with the first, ripped off its head. He shoved his explosive inside and, even as Casmir sprinted to get away, Rache grabbed the robot with both hands, hefted it over his head, and hurled it twenty feet. It struck a tree at the same time as it exploded, fiery orange light illuminating the forest.

“Combat armor seems useful,” Casmir noted.

“You should get some.”

“I’ll put it on my Hanukkah gift list. Chocolates are more common, but it is a holiday about celebrating victory in war.”

“Good armor is expensive. Your gift-giver may need to finance it.”

“If we rescue my parents, I’ll finance it.”

All business, Rache turned again and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Get on.”

Casmir made sure his tool satchel was secured, then grabbed Rache around the armored neck and wrapped his legs around his waist. A memory popped into his head of his father giving him piggyback rides when he’d been about five. Since he and Rache were the same height, this seemed like a ludicrous version of that.

“Hang on,” Rache warned, and fired his boots.

For some reason, Casmir expected him to angle through the trees and toward the entrance halfway up the cliff, but he shot straight up into the air. Casmir had been holding on tight, as ordered, but as they rose over a hundred feet, his sensible grip turned into a panicked vise-like clenching with all of his limbs.

They rose higher than the cliff and were looking at the trees on the bluff, and the Stalkers far below, before Rache stopped rising. He angled them inward on a more horizontal plane.

Casmir’s stomach protested the shift with a queasy lurch. He told it to knock it off. He was not going to puke on Rache. Not twice in the same night.

“I’m going in fast since we’ll be a target,” Rache said as the entrance and the two astroshamans came into view.

For a few seconds, they were even with the satellite dish, and Casmir studied it briefly. It was clean, modern, and free of dirt and vines. He wondered how it transmitted through the barrier that was blocking his chip from accessing the global network. He almost asked Rache to fly closer so he could take a look, but it was too late. Rache tipped them downward.

The wind battered at Casmir’s helmet as they dove out of the trees and toward the astroshamans still out on that ledge.

Casmir realized why Rache had wanted gravity on their side. They plummeted down like hawks, and their startled enemies didn’t have time to point weapons at them. One managed to spring back into the fortress entrance before Rache struck. The other didn’t.

Rache hit so hard that Casmir flashed back to the shuttle crash. He lost his grip and crashed into a wall, biting his tongue, and blood tainted his mouth. He flung his hands out for balance, afraid he’d fall off the precipice. That was what happened to the first astroshaman.

Momentum carried Casmir into the entrance corridor. He bumped into the second astroshaman a moment before Rache hit the man like a mag train. Casmir barely had time to flatten himself against the wall and get out of the way.

It only took him a second to get to his feet, but the skirmish had ended by then, with Rache standing and the astroshaman on his back, his neck broken.

The first astroshaman who’d been knocked off the precipice reappeared, using jet boots of his own to regain the perch. He aimed a rifle at Rache’s back.

“Watch out!” Casmir yelled. Unnecessarily.

Rache must have had a rear helmet camera on. He ducked right before the energy bolt streaked down the corridor, then whirled and sprang at their enemy before he could fire again. Rache ripped the rifle from the man’s grip and hurled it further into the fortress. The astroshaman sprang at him, launching a barrage of punches. He wore armor, and his fists blurred, but Rache’s blocks were just as fast. Rache roared as he charged, punching his foe in the face.

For the second time, the astroshaman flew off the ledge. This time, his nose was splattered flat, and he looked too dazed to react as he tumbled away. Rache ran to the edge and peered over to make sure.

A distant thud floated up.

“He’s dead,” Rache said.

An orange energy bolt streaked up from below. Once again, Rache’s enhanced reflexes were enough for him to anticipate it and dodge.

“The robots aren’t.” Rache ran into the corridor. “You all right?”

“Yes,” Casmir said. “Other than feeling like a damsel in distress.”

Rache picked up the discarded rifle, kept it for himself, and held out his pistol in offering. “Want it?”

Casmir eyed it. It would make sense to be armed, but would he actually shoot at someone? If he’d had a stun gun, yes, but not with a weapon designed to kill. He doubted his aim was good enough to ensure he wouldn’t cause a fatal wound. Assuming he didn’t hit his own ally.

“No, thanks.” Casmir opened his tool satchel and looked for something that might help with their assault of the base. He had four vials of the biological agent, carefully insulated with bubble wrap, but so far, they had run into more robots than human beings.

Casmir pulled out a power drill and hefted it. Maybe he could open a panel in an astroshaman’s half-computer head.

“Perhaps your friend could give you some combat lessons.” Rache holstered the pistol and passed Casmir, waving dismissively at the drill. He strode down the empty, dimly lit corridor.

“Which one? Asger or Qin?”

“Kim.”

Casmir almost tripped. Not because she wasn’t capable of handling herself but because he didn’t know when Rache had learned that. “You’ve seen her fight?”

“She resisted kidnapping.”

“Well, good.” Casmir wanted more details but decided this wasn’t the time to ask for them.

Rache headed for a modern metal door blocking the old stone corridor, a control panel glowing from the wide jamb. The terrorists had been settled in for long enough to modify the ancient ruins.

“Are you sure we should go this way?” Casmir asked. “Like you said earlier, it’s a foregone conclusion they know we’re here.”

“It wouldn’t be my first choice, but I didn’t see any other entrances when I scouted around.”

“What about the satellite dish?”

“What about it?”

Rache planted his gauntleted palms against the door and tried to heave it open.

“I bet it’s hard-wired to wherever their control center is,” Casmir said. “It would be hard to get a wireless signal through all this rock.”

“Fascinating.”

“Someone would have had to run that wire. There may be an access shaft.”

“Did you see one?” Rache growled, straining with the door.

Despite his muscular enhancements and the additional strength the combat armor gave him, it didn’t budge. Maybe the terrorists had anticipated robots—or knights in armor—busting into their stronghold.

“I’ll open that for you if you give me a ride back up to that satellite.” Casmir stepped up to the control panel, switched out the drill bit for a screw head, and unfastened the exterior with four quick buzzes. He smiled and extended a hand toward the interior wiring, assuming he could figure out how to open the door in a few seconds of tinkering.

“I’m not a shuttle bus, Dabrowski.”

“Just drop me off, and I’ll either find a way in or enjoy the view of the robot battle from the ferns atop the cliff.” Casmir put away the drill and pulled out wire clippers, waving them in offering.

Rache reached into the panel and tore out most of the wires inside. Something snapped and spat smoke.

“Uh,” Casmir said, “that probably won’t—”

The door slid open. And then shut again. But not before they saw six armed men waiting with rifles pointed in their direction. The door slid open again, and Rache pulled Casmir behind the jamb as their enemies fired. Several bolts made it through, skimming past in front of Casmir’s eyes, before the door shut again. After a pause, it slid open again. Rache’s solution hadn’t been as tidy as Casmir’s would have been.

Before the men on the other side could advance, Rache leaned out and threw an explosive. The door slid shut, some of their energy bolts pinging against it.

Casmir kept his back to the wall, his belly sucked in while the access panel hissed and smoked next to his ear.

“Come on.” Rache grabbed Casmir’s wrist and slung him over his back like a potato sack.

Casmir squawked in alarm, but a boom thundered from within as the door opened again. Rache’s explosive. Casmir didn’t hear any men yell in pain, so maybe the six guards had scattered in time to avoid the attack. Rache had time to sprint back to the platform, fire his jets, and leap into the air.

Casmir dangled from his grip, doing all he could to keep from screaming.

The robot battle below had stilled, with the Quasar Stalkers stomping over the wreckage of Casmir’s robot allies. His former robot allies. He hoped Bonita was on the way with the rest of his army. If the terrorists were able to focus fully on Rache and Casmir… that wouldn’t be good. Casmir had no idea how many people and robots were inside the base, but it was a foregone conclusion he and his twin were outnumbered.

As Rache zipped up the side of the cliff, Casmir twisted to look for the cables he expected to see. There, below the edge of the bluff and the dish, a waterproof conduit ran ten feet down the stone face and disappeared into a fissure.

“There’s a tunnel,” Casmir blurted as Rache angled to land in the foliage next to the dish. “Did you see it?”

“I saw a hole. It probably goes three feet into the cliff and ends in a pile of wire and a router.”

“I don’t think so. I’m going to try to get in that way.”

“It’s too small.”

“I can fit through.”

“I can’t.” Rache let him go and thudded a fist against his armored chest.

“That’s all right. This isn’t your fight. I’ll go in and try to find a way to bring down the barrier that’s blocking transmissions and hiding this place from the satellites. Then Asger will know where to send his allies.” Casmir grimaced, because he wanted badly to find his parents and make sure they were safe before those allies arrived and fired everything they had.

“You’ll get yourself killed if you go in alone. You don’t even have a stunner, do you?”

“No.” Casmir pulled out his drill again and waved it.

“Yeah, that’s going to drive terror into their hearts.”

“I also have some vials of a biological agent that can make people puke.” Casmir patted his tool satchel.

“Presuming they’re not in combat armor and using a self-contained breathing system. You said it’s possible your parents are in there, right?”

“I’m not sure. They might be. That’s another reason I have to go in.”

Rache shook his head.

“If you want to help, you can fly around and keep them distracted.” Casmir waved toward the robots below.

“Distracted? Look, Dabrowski. I’m nobody’s distraction. I’m the main event.” Rache thrust the pistol at Casmir again, making sure he took it before stepping back and off the cliff.

His boots fired, and he flew down, zigzagging in the air. Several of the Stalkers below must have spotted him, for they fired. Rache dipped and darted and somersaulted twice, avoiding their blasts, then zipped into the entrance corridor again. Smoke was still flowing out of it. Within seconds, crimson energy bolts also sailed out. Shots meant for Rache that missed, Casmir hoped.

He shook his head. Even with his combat armor, Rache couldn’t storm an entire compound by himself.

“And he thinks I’m going to get myself killed.” Casmir stuffed the pistol in his tool satchel, dropped to his hands and knees, and scoped out a route to that fissure.

His heart quailed at the ten-foot descent he would have to make down the vertical rock face to the hole where the conduit disappeared. But Rache was down below charging an army for him—or to redeem Kim’s favor—so he couldn’t let himself fail. He slid his legs over the side while trying not to think about why Rache was willing to risk his life to redeem a favor, especially when the request had simply been to get Casmir into the terrorist stronghold, not to storm their base and take on an entire army.

As he carefully descended, wishing he had a rope in his tool satchel, a rock slipped free and clattered down the cliff. He feared one of the Stalkers would notice him, especially now that Rache had gone inside, but he was too terrified to look down to check.

One of his feet reached the fissure. He realized he would have to climb down below it, so he could go in headfirst.

Another boom erupted inside that entrance corridor, and more smoke flowed out. It hazed the air, and Casmir hoped it would make it hard for the Stalkers to sense and target him.

He picked his way farther down, his arms shaking from more than exertion. Finally, his face was level with the fissure. Rache had been right that it was only a couple of feet wide—too narrow for someone in armor, but if it didn’t get much narrower, Casmir could navigate it.

“I hope.”

He slipped his arms inside and clawed and pulled the rest of his body in with such a lack of grace that he was glad there were no witnesses around. For some reason, he imagined Princess Oku seeing this on some drone’s security camera footage on the news. He hoped the news story wouldn’t be explaining his death.

Red light flashed behind him, and a bang sounded above the opening in the fissure. Casmir jerked his legs inside, cracking his knee on the rock. The smoke must have cleared enough for the Stalkers to target him. More bolts sailed up, smacking into the face of the cliff. Rock tumbled down, and the opening collapsed.

Casmir hurried deeper, terror clutching his chest as he imagined the ten feet of rock above him all collapsing. There was no way he would be able to dig himself out.

The robots stopped firing. Darkness engulfed Casmir. He activated his night vision, and the dark gray outline of his cave—his coffin, his brain wanted to say—came into view. He could still make out the conduit running along the bottom and see that it continued deeper into the cliff.

“Time to see if it goes somewhere useful.” He decided not to think about what would happen if the passage narrowed, since the only entrance he knew about had been blocked.

17

Qin stared at the crashed shuttle, the wreckage smoldering, what little remained of it. It was so charred and in so many pieces that she couldn’t be positive it was the furniture-delivery vessel Rache had been flying. But the queasy feeling in her stomach made her suspect it was. Some part of her knew.

Had this happened before or after Casmir had sent Bonita that message? It was hard to imagine anyone walking away from this crash.

As she picked her way around the wreckage, looking for but hoping not to find Casmir’s body, her ears picked up the sound of weapons fire. She guessed it was three or four miles away—it was difficult to gauge distance in the dense forest.

A distant boom sounded. Explosives.

Hoping that meant Casmir—and Casmir’s robots—had survived, Qin ran in that direction. It sounded like they were assaulting the enemy base. That didn’t sound like a wise plan, even if all the robots had survived. Casmir would need her help.

She pushed herself to run faster and was encouraged when she spotted the treads of robots and the occasional footprint in the churned mud. It looked like Casmir and Rache were both alive. And she was on the right path.

Her skin tingled with a harsh buzz, and she lurched to a stop and jumped behind a tree, suspecting some enemy’s weapon. A stunner? No, she wore her armor. She wouldn’t have felt a stun blast. What had she felt?

She looked all around, but nothing but ferns and trees and bushes she couldn’t name rose up in the darkness. Her eyes were keen enough at night that she would have seen people or robots. There was nothing.

“An energy field?” she murmured, exploring the area with her hand.

She felt the buzz again, penetrating her suit. Some kind of electrical field. It must be what protected the base and made it hard to find.

The booms and weapons fire had faded. What did that mean? That Rache and Casmir had defeated their enemies? That their enemies had defeated them?

Though she wanted to sprint in the last direction she’d heard noise, Qin reminded herself that Casmir’s goal had been to find the terrorists and give the location to Asger so he could bring in help to defeat them.

She stepped away from the invisible field and sent a message. Captain? I’m on the trail of Casmir and Rache, and I believe I found the energy field that may be keeping the Kingdom from locating this place. Can you pinpoint my location?

Yes, Bonita replied. We just got rid of that other shuttle—Asger isn’t bad with a railgun for someone with such pretty hair.

Why would pretty hair affect his aim? Qin asked, confused by the comment.

Pretty people get through life on their looks. They don’t have to spend thousands of hours at ranges, mastering marksmanship.

Spending time at the range is enjoyable. And he is a knight, so perhaps he revels in physical training.

Yeah, yeah. About this field. Do you know how far outside of the base it is?

I heard weapons fire approximately two miles northwest of my current position. Should we meet there?

I’ll do my best, Bonita replied. The Dragon was damaged, so we may have to set down for emergency repairs.

You could set down at the base and disgorge Casmir’s robots.

Qin, you don’t land your damaged spaceship right outside of the enemy base to do repairs.

Not even when you have a robot army? Qin stepped through the field and started running again, worried the silence that had descended on the forest meant Casmir was in trouble.

It was only when a minute passed without a response from Bonita that she realized their communications might not be able to pass through that energy field. She didn’t want to waste time by going back, so she hoped Bonita had all the information she needed.

The smell of burning wood and scorched metal reached Qin’s nose long before a blue light grew visible. The noise of something—several somethings—crunching over what sounded like wreckage reached her ears. She made herself slow down and tried to approach from a darker section of the forest.

Up ahead, the trees thinned. She crept to the edge of the forest and gaped at the wreckage spread hundreds of meters along the base of a cliff. The only moving things in sight were six hulking insectoid robots that didn’t look like any of the ones Casmir had been working on. The pieces lying on the ground might have been the remains of the ones Casmir had been working on…

Qin fingered her Brockinger. The robots appeared sturdy, as the victors of a battle would, but could they take an explosive to the torso?

Did it make sense to start a war with them and announce her presence? If Bonita was coming, she ought to try to clear the ground in front of the cliff—it was the only potential landing area she had seen—but where were Rache and Casmir? Had they been taken prisoner? She didn’t see a base.

She peered higher up the cliff, thinking it might be on top. Then she spotted the chiseled stone walls of an ancient structure built into the rock face, along with an entrance in the rock fifty feet up. She could climb to it easily enough if she weren’t being shot at, but she didn’t know if she could avoid being spotted. The robots were patrolling back and forth like sentries.

Movement in the sky caught her eye. Uh oh. The Dragon?

No, it was a smaller craft. An armed shuttle similar to the ones that had attacked the Dragon.

It arrowed down from the sky, skimming close to the cliff, and Qin expected it to land. She readied herself to spring out and attack whoever came out. Assuming it was a human, he or she might have answers to some of her questions.

But the shuttle didn’t land in front of the entrance to the stone structure. It continued past, following the rock face and flying right past Qin’s hiding spot. She crouched low as it zipped through the clearing and between trees at the far end. There was barely room for it to land, but the shuttle settled into a gap.

Qin backed farther into the trees so the robots wouldn’t spot her, then ran parallel to the cliff and toward the shuttle. She felt certain something would be gained from capturing its pilot and whoever else was inside.

The hatch swung open, and a crusher strode out. Her heart sank. Maybe there weren’t any humans, after all.

The tarry black crusher’s head shifted left and right, as if it were sniffing the air. But it lacked a nose and eyes in the traditional sense, and Qin had no idea what receptors truly sensed its surroundings. Whatever it had worked, for the head turned toward her.

“A threat is present,” it announced.

“Get rid of it,” came a man’s voice from inside the craft.

The crusher sprinted at Qin.

She cursed. She’d gotten the best of one before but not by destroying it. She had no idea if it was even possible to destroy one. Before, she’d been able to fling it off the hull of the ship and into an ocean. Here, all she had were trees.

A man appeared in the hatchway as the crusher sprinted toward her, and Qin thought she saw someone lying on the deck behind him. Someone tied up? Or someone dead?

She sprang up the nearest tree as the crusher rushed toward her. Though she wished she weren’t wearing her gauntlets so she had the use of her claws, she still scrambled up the trunk like few humans could. The crusher paused to stare up at her. Could they climb?

The tree swayed alarmingly as Qin ascended farther and the trunk narrowed. No, the trunk wasn’t the problem, she realized. The crusher gripped the tree near the base. A snap sounded as it broke the trunk.

Qin leaped off it before it tipped toward the ground. She sprang to the next tree and then the next. She ran from branch to branch, angling toward the shuttle. Maybe she could reach the pilot and avoid fighting the crusher.

It only broke one tree before following her on the ground, waiting for her to come down. Maybe it had already figured out her intent, and it would head her off if she tried to jump down to the shuttle.

She paused in a clump of branches forty feet up, the needles and cones dense enough to hide her movements, and she loaded a canister into her Brockinger. As her robotic foe gazed up at her, she leaned to the side of a branch, aimed, and fired.

The crusher was almost fast enough to leap out of the way, but her round struck its shoulder and blew. Flames and smoke hid it, but she doubted it was dead. Qin leaped through two more trees and down onto the roof of the shuttle.

As she landed, she glimpsed the crusher, its head and shoulder torn half off, but already, it was reassembling itself, more like a liquid than a solid as it re-formed.

Qin leaped down from the roof as the man inside jumped out, whipping a rifle toward her. He wasn’t armored, and a cigarette dangled out of his mouth, the scent of burning tobacco pungent in the air.

He got two shots off, the DEW-Tek bolts ricocheting off her chest plate, before she landed. She grabbed him under the armpits and hurled him between the trees. He struck the crusher and bounced off, crying out as his shoulder slammed into a tree.

Qin rushed inside the shuttle and found a button to close the hatch. Stealing the shuttle seemed to offer more options than running out to engage in combat with the recovering crusher.

The legs she’d spotted were attached to an older man who was tied to an older woman, and they were both tied to the base of a seat. They were gagged, but from the way they stared at her, Qin was sure they were gaping.

“Hi.” She ran toward the pilot’s seat, hoping she could figure out how to get the craft in the air. Bonita had given her some lessons on the Dragon, but that was her only experience. “I’m Qin. I’ll explain when—”

A thump sounded as something landed on the roof.

“—we get rid of that,” Qin finished, certain it was the crusher.

Fortunately, the shuttle was still powered up, and it had a flight stick that appeared intuitive. She lifted them into the air, branches scraping the hull, and did her best to back out of the tight parking spot without hitting a tree.

Thump, thump, thump.

She tracked the crusher’s heavy footfalls as it ran across the roof toward the hatch. Any second, it would tear it open and try to get inside. Would it simply attack her? Or try to hurt the prisoners to keep them from getting away?

The shuttle cleared the trees, and she twisted the flight stick, hoping to dislodge the crusher. She almost sent them careening into the cliff. Usually, this was Bonita’s job…

She wondered if either of the two prisoners could pilot. Then she could climb out and knock the crusher off.

But there wasn’t time to free them and ask. As she tried to gain ground, hoping she would have more opportunity for maneuvering once she was above the trees, a second loud thump sounded.

Now what was the crusher doing? That had sounded like something else landing on the shuttle. If there were exterior cameras that she could call upon, Qin didn’t know where the controls were. All she could see was what was visible directly in front of them. At the moment, that was the cliff.

She veered away as more thumps and an ear-splitting screech came from the roof. An alarm flashed on the display, and something that sounded like rocks bouncing off the hull came from underneath them. No, not rocks. Energy bolts. The robots on the ground were firing at the shuttle.

Qin growled in frustration. How much damage could the craft take?

Another alarm flashed to life. Had she rescued these people, whoever they were, only to crash and cause them to die?

No, damn it. She—

White light flashed outside, and an epic boom thundered, rattling the hull. Something like a railgun blast slammed into the ground below and exploded. Three of the robots that had been firing on Qin were hurled into the air. One slammed into the face of the cliff hard enough for pieces to fly off.

“What was that?” She tilted the nose of the shuttle upward and almost laughed. The dome-shape of the Stellar Dragon filled the sky.

Just as she thought she was rescued, Qin realized Bonita wouldn’t know she was the one piloting this shuttle. It might be Asger’s next target.

More thumps sounded above her, right above her. That crusher was still up there, maybe more than one.

She angled back toward the ground. She couldn’t handle flying. She would rather be on the ground and fighting. If she could lead the prisoners out into the forest—

Metal screeched, and a black spear drove down through the ceiling. The point halted an inch from Qin’s helmet. She jerked her head back and instinctively released the flight stick so she could grab whatever that was and keep it from retracting and striking again. It was tarry black, like the crushers. No, she realized as she gripped it, and it pulled back—hard. It was a crusher.

The freighter’s railgun fired again, the round shrieking right past the shuttle and blowing into the side of the cliff. A huge piece of rock slammed into the hull, knocking them sideways. The black spear was torn from Qin’s grasp as the craft struck the ground, bouncing and then skidding into something. A tree? The cliff? The screen went dark and she didn’t know.

She abandoned the pilot’s seat and sprang for the hatch, only knowing that she couldn’t let the crushers get inside.

The prisoners were still on the deck, their eyes bulging even wider now.

“Sorry,” Qin blurted. “I’m young. I haven’t rescued a lot of people yet.”

She didn’t even know if she was supposed to be rescuing these people. The hatch squealed as it was ripped off its hinges. A crusher hurled it into the woods.

Qin leaped in front of the prisoners and pointed her Brockinger. Before she could fire, another crusher slammed into the first, and both tumbled out of view.

“Was that Zee?” Qin leaped out to help.

The two crushers wrestled and thrashed on the ground beside the shuttle. Wind batted at Qin’s armor, and leaves and pine needles flew through the air as the Dragon settled down a few dozen meters away. Pieces of robots crunched under its weight. The cargo hatch opened, and new robots stomped, rolled, and flew out.

“Oh, good.” Qin grinned at the captives. “Casmir’s robot army is here.”

The man and woman looked at each other.

Qin figured they had no idea what she was talking about. She hoped Casmir was all right and not crumpled up and dead among the broken robots out there.

Zee—he was noticeably larger than the other crusher—hurled his foe against the rock face hard enough that it lost its form. Qin expected him to keep attacking, but he sprang twenty feet up the rock wall and found a handhold. He climbed toward the entrance up there.

She suspected that meant Casmir was somewhere inside. And that she’d just been left to finish off this foe.

The battered crusher started re-forming itself. Qin raised her anti-tank gun. She would handle it.

18

The galaxy suit kept Casmir from scraping skin off his shoulders on the tight walls of his crawlspace, but he doubted it would keep bruises from forming. He pulled himself determinedly forward, on his hands and knees—sometimes on his elbows and belly. The conduit continued to line the bottom of the shaft, leading him slightly downward and deeper into the cliff. Every time the passage leveled out, his hands landed in puddles.

“Poor infrastructure planning,” he muttered.

At least the crawlspace continued to be large enough for him, as he’d hoped. Someone had laid that conduit. Or some robot or drone had. A robot or drone that might have been smaller than he was. What happened if his tunnel shrank?

“Think positive, Casmir,” he muttered to himself. “You’re not a big guy. You’re smaller than most robots.”

A distant boom sounded, and the cool stone under him trembled. Dust and tiny bits of rock shifted and fell free. He grimaced and ordered himself not to panic, to keep his breaths steady. That was probably Rache throwing explosives at someone, and he wouldn’t do that in an area where he was likely to bring the cliff down on himself.

Alas, this logic only partially helped Casmir. He could hear his ragged breaths reverberating off the rock. Nonetheless, he continued onward. His tool satchel kept getting stuck, but he wouldn’t dream of leaving it behind.

Distant shouts filtered through the rock. They were far too muffled to make out, but they gave him encouragement, since they seemed to be coming from deeper in the cliff. That ought to mean that his passage would connect to something at some point.

“Hopefully, before I run out of food and water and die,” he whispered.

A part of him wished Kim were here, to make some pithy comeback as she crawled along behind him. But the larger part of him was glad she was safe back in the city. He only wished his parents were.

The rumble of machinery reached his ears, and he made himself focus on that instead of worrying about people. Machinery was promising. Far preferable to deal with than armed men.

The rumble grew louder until he couldn’t hear anything else. It remained dark ahead of him. Even with his night-vision enhancement, he almost missed an opening to the side of his passage. The conduit he’d been following ran into a T-connector, with a tuft of clumsily laid wires going off into a machine room while the rest of the wires continued on in the closed conduit. A few yellow and blue indicator lights glowed in the machine room.

Casmir twisted, clunking his elbow on the stone as he maneuvered his flashlight out of his tool satchel. He shone his light over numerous machines and almost laughed when he spotted something exactly like the stealth generator on the bridge of that cargo ship.

He’d already wondered, at the first sign of an astroshaman, if this group was tied to the group that had stolen the gate from the archaeological site, and this seemed to cement that. Another machine looked like a power generator, and there was a huge tank and a water pump.

“Environmental control room,” he decided and pointed his flashlight down to see how far of a jump he had.

He and the wires had come out ten feet up from the floor. They were bolted to the wall, so he couldn’t use them as climbing aids. He figured he could get down without too much trouble, but jumping and pulling himself back up would be a challenge if he couldn’t find something to stand on. Should he attempt to sabotage the equipment down there? Or continue to follow that conduit to what was likely the communications area?

No, he didn’t need to make any calls. If he knocked out the stealth generator, and the entire base appeared on the Kingdom satellites, it wouldn’t take the Guard long to send ships to destroy it. He would have accomplished what the king asked. And his parents… He would just have to find them before the reinforcements arrived.

Casmir swung clumsily down—the opening wasn’t that wide, so he had to awkwardly go past the opening and then back so he could lower his legs out of the hole first. He imagined Rache rolling his eyes at Casmir’s lack of athleticism.

There was a closed metal door on the opposite wall. Casmir ran to it, hoping he could lock it from the inside. No such luck. There wasn’t a lock at all. He would have to work quickly.

The stealth generator looked to be the exact same model. He spotted the on/off switch and almost flicked it, but that wouldn’t be enough. As soon as one of the local goons realized it was off, he or she would run back in to check on it.

Casmir put his screwdriver to use again removing the panel. He could have smashed up the inside and broken circuit boards, but his soul rebelled at such wanton destruction. He removed a few select pieces, then found the power cord and cut it. The generator thunked off, its indicators going dark.

Casmir eyed the other equipment, debating if he should turn off the lights. If everyone was in combat armor, darkness wouldn’t matter. Those helmets had better night vision than his contacts.

He looked around, hoping to spot the controls for a ventilation system. There had to be fans to pull potentially toxic gases out of the underground tunnels and bring in fresh air. If he could ensure they were blowing air inward, and break Kim’s vials into the flow, maybe he could deliver an effective dose to those inside who weren’t wearing armor.

A nice thought, but he didn’t see a ventilation system, not operating out of this room.

“The gas probably would have dissipated too much anyway,” he muttered.

Still, he was tempted to go through that door and see if any adjoining rooms held the heart of the ventilation system.

A shout sounded nearby and convinced him not to wander. As he turned back toward the hole in the wall, debating how he would reach it, another shout echoed through the facility. Closer.

He hunted around for a chair or something he could use for a boost.

Footsteps rang in the corridor outside. He was out of time.

Casmir ran and sprang for the lip, hoping his vertical jump was better than he remembered. He slammed into the wall three inches below the hole, his fingers coming nowhere close to gripping it. Damn it.

As he landed, the door squealed open. Casmir flung himself behind the closest piece of equipment. Which happened to be the stealth generator, the first place they would look.

Idiot, he cursed silently as he squeezed himself as far back as he could, praying they somehow wouldn’t notice him.

Two people with heavy footsteps charged into the room. They headed straight for the stealth generator. Had he damaged it enough to keep them from getting it working again? Would they hear him breathing?

“Someone’s been in here,” one man said.

“No shit. There’s a whole army of people storming our secret compound.”

An army? Was that Rache? Or was it possible Casmir’s robots had arrived? Even if they had, he didn’t think any of them could climb up the cliff to get to that entrance. Only the handful of drones, and they had modest weaponry. He’d only ordered them to deploy some of the vials.

He supposed it was too much to hope that they were inside and dumping the vials now, vials that would ooze in here and affect these people.

“What’s that?” someone asked, his voice sounding closer to Casmir.

He grimaced, wishing he had Rache’s pistol in hand. But could he truly shoot someone? Even someone helping terrorists?

A wrenching noise came from the corridor. It sounded like a door being torn off its hinges.

“What the—”

Weapons squelched.

“Donner, Daiju,” someone yelled from the corridor. “Get out here, and help with this thing!”

The men cursed and ran back out the door.

Casmir peeked out. For the moment, he was alone. Bangs and thumps and weapons fire continued in the corridor, but he couldn’t assume that was an ally attacking them. He hoped it was, but they wouldn’t have described Rache as a thing.

With more time to hunt around, Casmir found a tool cabinet and pushed it to the wall so he could climb it to escape. One of the drawers was open, and he tugged on it, curious if he would find anything useful to add to his satchel. It was full of tape. Not exactly an elite robot-making tool, but he snatched a roll of duct tape. He could twist it up and use it as a rope to lower himself down if he had to go back the way he’d come.

Footsteps rang out in the corridor again. Casmir climbed up the cabinet and into the hole, tugging his body out of sight as quickly as possible.

Once again, he crawled deeper into the cliff. The sounds soon faded behind him, dulled by the intervening rock. He bumped his shoulders several more times, gritting his teeth as he rounded bends and half slid down a steep slope.

A male voice sounded up ahead, and Casmir paused. A second man responded. Casmir thought they were speaking in the Kingdom tongue, but he couldn’t quite make out words.

Had he found the inner sanctum? Or the route into the terrorists’ lavatory? He wished he had a map of this place—or access to the network to download one.

As he turned a bend, a clear string of words made it to his ears. “…I can’t say how honored I am that the mighty Tenebris Rache would come to my humble abode. And without his mask! You’re as pasty as I suspected you would be after all those years under a hood.”

Dread spread through Casmir’s limbs. Those words were delivered with the haughty sarcasm of someone who had the advantage.

“It’s hard to get a tan in space,” came Rache’s cool reply.

Rache didn’t sound like he was crying in pain and defeat, but Casmir wasn’t that heartened by that. Rache was someone who he expected would spit promises of revenge while he was dying on the floor.

Casmir kept crawling, doing his best not to make any noise. He could tell that the speakers weren’t standing close together and that they were at a lower elevation than he, but not much more than that.

“Put him over there,” the unknown speaker said. “And figure out how to get the rest of his armor off. You’ve got all of his weapons?”

Casmir couldn’t make out more than a grunt of acknowledgment, but it was enough to tell him that there were more people in the room than Rache and the speaker.

“I must say, it was thoughtful of you to deliver yourself to me. I spent the last five years I worked for the king trying to catch you and kill you. Ironic that now that I’ve left that arrogant bastard, I have my opportunity. My colleagues want me to leave you alone, since you’ve proven yourself a thorn in Jager’s side, but why not take both of you out, I say. Just to be safe.”

Both of you. Rache and Casmir? Who else?

Casmir kept scooting closer, not daring to go quickly, lest he make noise. Was the speaker wearing armor, or would he be vulnerable to Kim’s biological agent?

“What made you change sides?” Rache asked.

“Jager is a pompous ass who wants to drag humanity back to Neanderthal days.”

“Yes, I agree. And I’m confused. Remind me why we’re working against each other?”

“Because you showed up with the intent to trick me. Do you really think I believed you’d risk coming down to the planet for twenty thousand crowns? Your allowance used to be more than that.”

“Not quite,” Rache murmured.

A wrenching noise echoed from the stone walls. Someone prying him out of his armor? Casmir hoped Rache hadn’t been captured because he’d been helping him when he’d been cornered in the environmental control room. But he feared that was the case. Who else would have been inside the compound, firing at those men right where Casmir had been trapped?

Casmir could see light ahead. He scooted faster. Nobody would hear him over those wrenching noises.

“Why are you here?” the speaker asked. “Do you care about your twin?”

“I’m not here for him, no.”

A favor for Kim, Casmir thought but hoped Rache wouldn’t say.

Faint booms echoed through the rock. Odd. If Rache was captured, who was attacking the base? Casmir’s robots had been destroyed. The ones he’d brought along. Was it possible that Bonita had dropped off the rest of his robot army? He hoped it wasn’t an air assault that Asger had called in. Not when he, Rache, and possibly his parents were inside a cliff that might collapse on top of them.

“Were you the one to send the assassin?” Rache asked.

“The girl? Vickers?”

“The female assassin, yes.”

“I sent her. Jager ordered me to get rid of you. He did suggest the idea. He thought he knew your taste in women.”

“Of course he did. He met my fiancée several times. That didn’t keep him from killing her.”

“You brought that on yourself.”

“I did not,” Rache roared, rare naked rage in his voice. “That was his manipulative scheme. His test so I could prove myself. All that man ever does is treat people like puppets on strings.”

Casmir had no idea what he was talking about or what had happened, but his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the words prove myself. Hadn’t Jager offered him a chance to prove himself?

“And so you’ve spent the last ten years of your life exacting revenge and taking down everyone who gets in your way,” the speaker spat. “Even if Jager has lost my loyalty, I have to admit I’ll enjoy seeing you die. I knew it was you, by the way. Oh, maybe not at first, but eventually, the pieces added up. How they never found your body. How you knew Jager so well. What random space mercenary would have intimate knowledge of what pushes the king’s buttons?”

“His buttons aren’t subtly labeled.”

Casmir reached the end of the passage and the source of the light, a large room with rock pillars supporting a high ceiling. The conduit ran down the wall and toward communications computers in the back.

He was ten feet off the floor again, overlooking more than a dozen armed men, some with obvious cybernetic bits attached to their skulls, others appearing like normal humans. All of them were pointing their rifles at Rache, whose helmet had been snapped off. His torso seams had been wrenched open, and a man with a crowbar was working on getting his armor the rest of the way off. Rache wasn’t looking at him, not at any of the guards. He faced someone in gray combat armor. The man—the other speaker—wore his helmet, and Casmir couldn’t see his face from his position.

Unfortunately, the biological agent wouldn’t affect him. The rest of the armed guards didn’t wear helmets, so it could affect them. But Rache was right in the middle of them, and it would also incapacitate him. Leaving Casmir to face a bitter, angry man in full combat armor by himself.

Rache looked right at Casmir. They were more than thirty feet apart, and it was the briefest of eye contact, but Casmir knew Rache had seen him. Rache didn’t nod or do anything to draw attention to Casmir.

Casmir wished he had nodded, or even widened his eyes slightly, giving some hint of a message about whether he wanted Casmir to throw the vials. Would it be enough if he saw them coming and held his breath? If they acted on mucous membranes, not breathing wouldn’t be enough to protect someone, not entirely.

“We don’t have to get his armor off to kill him,” the man with the crowbar growled, looking at his boss.

Casmir drew the four vials out of his satchel and carefully unwrapped them from their insulation. He had a feeling it had to be now or never.

“True,” the leader said. “But we need to know where the other one is before we kill him. Dabrowski is the one more likely to become the king’s little sycophant and someone we need to worry about. But Jager isn’t going to get history to repeat itself. He isn’t going to spread his backward ways out there again like some virus. Or plague.”

Later on, Casmir would find that sycophant comment insulting. Now, he was too busy focusing on not dropping the vials—or himself—as he shifted his upper body out of the passage. How he was going to throw accurately from that position, he didn’t know.

“Where is he, Rache?” The leader strode forward and punched him in the face with an armored fist.

Rache’s head snapped back. That had to have felt like a battering ram striking.

Casmir gripped two of the vials, saving two in case his aim wasn’t good enough, and raised an arm to throw.

One of the guards started to turn in his direction, and he froze.

Rache snarled loudly and shifted, as if he might charge the men. All eyes focused on him, and the rifles came close enough to touch his temples.

Casmir threw the vials.

They sailed through the air, almost hitting one of the stone pillars. They landed at the outskirts of the group, striking the hard floor and shattering open.

Was it close enough? Would the men be affected? If they were, how long would it take?

The leader and all twelve men whirled toward Casmir.

He almost fell out in his haste to scoot back out of sight. Weapons fired en masse, slamming into the rock wall and into his passage. One ricocheted off the roof inches above his head and struck him in the back.

The galaxy suit kept it from piercing flesh and muscle—and organs—but it felt like a boulder landing on him. He couldn’t keep from crying out in pain, but he made himself keep going, scooting farther from the opening. He tried to remember how far back the last bend had been. Until he rounded it, the men would easily be able to leap up and shoot him.

Footsteps thundered toward his passageway. Casmir glanced back. The bend was too far away. He would never make it in time.

19

Qin had wondered what it took to damage a crusher to such a degree that it couldn’t repair itself. She still didn’t know. As the smoke cleared from her second explosive round, her robotic enemy stood in front of the cliff, warped and split nearly in two, a huge crater in the rock behind it. As she watched, its halves liquified, pulled together, and started to re-form into a humanoid shape.

Nearby, the Dragon disgorged Casmir’s robot army, and they engaged with the insectoid defender robots, having far more luck blowing them into pieces.

Asger was out there among them, cleaving off mechanical arms and heads with his pertundo. Would that weapon have more luck against a crusher? Every time he struck one of the robots, lightning branched all around his foe, and circuits shorted and smoldered.

“One more try,” Qin muttered as the head of the crusher melted back together.

She hefted her Brockinger and fired. She was aware of the couple inside the shuttle, still on the deck and staring out at her. They’d drawn themselves up to their knees and seemed to be helping each other get their bindings off. She hoped they wouldn’t run out into the battle where they might be hit.

Her round lodged in the crusher’s chest and exploded. Black tarry bits flew in a hundred directions. One splatted against the faceplate of her helmet, and she jumped. It dropped limply to the ground but only stayed there a moment before turning into a liquid blob and oozing over the dirt and pine needles, back toward the rest of the mangled crusher.

She was tempted to step on it, but it would just squeeze out from under her boot. At a loss, she stared at it, shaking her head. Wasn’t there some volcano she could throw this thing into that would end it?

“Qin!” Asger shouted.

She looked around, thinking he needed help. He crouched on the roof of the Dragon, and, when she made eye contact, pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the railgun mounted behind him.

“Can you throw that crusher up here?” he yelled.

He was more than forty feet in the air, but she had her natural strength in addition to what her combat armor added. She nodded once, lowered her Brockinger on its strap, and ran to the cliff. All of the smaller pieces had returned to the largest part of the crusher, its warped mass once again coalescing into a solid.

Qin grabbed it, hefted it over her head, and ran toward the freighter. She almost laughed at the way the couple inside the shuttle gaped at her as she sped past.

When she got close, she spun around and around, holding out the crusher at arm’s length. When she had enough momentum, she released it, sending it on an upward trajectory. It sailed to the Dragon’s dome roof and almost crashed into Asger. He ducked in time, and it slammed down behind him.

“You’re the strongest girl I know,” he yelled down at her, then turned and disappeared.

“Yes, I am.” That was one accolade she wouldn’t reject as inaccurate.

“Fire, Lopez!” Asger called through the hatch in the roof.

The railgun boomed, and it was Qin’s turn to gape as the powerful weapon launched the half-formed crusher over the trees where it disappeared from sight.

She didn’t know if that would be enough to permanently deactivate it, but at the least, it would take a while for it to recover and run back.

Qin looked for another fight to join, but Casmir’s ragtag army of robots had battered down the insectoid defenders. Through numbers more than superior fighting ability.

“Whatever works,” she muttered, lowering her weapon.

Her ears detected soft footfalls behind her.

“Excuse me.” The older woman stopped a couple of steps away and lifted her finger uncertainly. The man—her husband?—tossed their gags and the remains of their bindings aside and came up beside her, wrapping a protective, or maybe a supportive arm around her shoulders. “Do you know where our son is?” she asked. “Casmir Dabrowski.”

“Uh.” Qin looked toward the entrance high up on the face of the cliff. She could hear gunfire and explosives going off inside and worried they would collapse the entire structure. “I’m afraid I do, ma’am.”

* * *

The footsteps halted. Casmir could tell the men were right under the crawlspace entrance.

He skidded his last two vials toward the opening, hoping they wouldn’t break until they landed—ideally on someone’s head.

Glass shattered. Casmir kept scooting for the bend, pushing himself backward through the crawlspace as quickly as he could.

A face appeared in the opening, silhouetted against the light of the room behind him.

“I see him,” the man snarled. “Hand me up my…” He grimaced and dropped back out of sight.

Coughs replaced voices. Casmir thought he heard someone throwing up. He hoped it wasn’t Rache.

Footsteps thundered again, this time away from his passageway. More precisely, away from the vials shattered underneath it.

A thud, followed by a clatter arose over the gagging sounds. Someone cried out.

Casmir paused. It sounded like a fight. He’d expected the armored man, who would be unaffected by the gas, to come for him. But maybe Rache had held his breath and wasn’t as disabled by the noxious air.

It might have been wiser to keep scooting away, but what if it wasn’t a fight? What if the leader was simply taking advantage of Rache being incapacitated to throw more punches at him?

Casmir held his breath and scooted toward the room again.

Several men had fled the area. Others lay writhing on the floor, clawing at their faces.

At first, Casmir didn’t see the armored men, but then Rache’s black armor came into sight as he was hurled across the room. He flew twenty feet and slammed into the communications equipment. Tears streamed from his eyes and snot from his nose, but he’d snatched a rifle from a sick guard, and when he leaped to his feet, he pulled something out of his utility belt. A grenade?

He must have landed some solid blows on his opponent, because the gray-armored man staggered, steadying himself instead of rushing straight after Rache.

Rache lifted his arm, as if to throw his grenade.

Casmir could envision it bouncing off the armored man and blurted, “Rache!” as he dug into his tool satchel again.

When Rache glanced his way, Casmir tossed the duct tape to him.

“Stick it to him,” he whispered, miming madly with his hands.

Their enemy pulled out a grenade of his own and charged. Not at Rache but Casmir. His face was visible for the first time, human features with computer interfaces integrated openly. His eyes were fully human—and full of determination. They promised he was going to kill Casmir.

Casmir scrambled away from the edge again, but the man leaped up and caught the lip of the opening. He drew back his arm to throw his grenade into the tunnel.

Rache appeared behind him, stopping the throw and dragging their enemy out of sight.

Panting, Casmir paused. Thumps, cracks, and thuds floated up to him. He couldn’t see a thing and wanted to rush forward to help, but what more could he do? He was out of vials. All he could do was be a target.

But he couldn’t imagine crawling out without making sure Rache made it too. He crawled forward again.

The men were wrestling on the floor, each trying to gain the upper hand. Rache threw an elbow and caught his opponent in the chest, knocking his grip loose. Instead of springing at him, Rache turned and ran toward the exit.

His foe was startled for a second and didn’t follow. Casmir spotted the grenade taped to the back of the gray helmet. The man hurled his own grenade after Rache.

Both explosives blew at the same time, the roar thunderous in the underground room. Casmir spotted the gray-armored man’s helmet—his entire head—being blown off an instant before smoke filled the room, hiding everything from view.

Casmir gaped at the horrific sight—at what he had helped cause. But the massive snapping of stone hammered at his eardrums, and there was no time to ponder it.

The rock passageway quaked all around him. He tried to draw back into the tunnel, hoping for some small protection, but the rock heaved and hurled him into the room.

He tumbled to the floor as boulders rained down all around him. Rock dust filled the space, and he couldn’t see a thing. Something slammed into his shoulder, the galaxy suit doing little to dull the blow. He gasped and tried to crawl to a wall, covering his helmet.

Something black loomed out of the brown dust. Rache in his combat armor?

No. He gasped and tried to lurch away. It was a crusher.

But it grabbed him, pushed him against the wall, and held him in place. He squirmed, but it leaned in closer. What the—

“I am a Z-6000, programmed to protect Kim Sato and Casmir Dabrowski.”

Casmir barely heard him over the rock tumbling down, threatening to bury them both alive, but he heard enough. “Zee!”

He realized the crusher was protecting him from the rocks. They bounced off Zee’s back and head and piled high to either side of Casmir.

“You’re amazing!” Casmir yelled, even though he didn’t know if this would be enough to save him. If the entire cliff collapsed, he would simply be buried underneath Zee.

He hunkered against the wall and buried his head in his knees, praying the rockfall would end soon and thinking of the people who’d died at the synagogue, also buried under rocks. They hadn’t had a Zee to protect them. He wished he could have given them one.

It grew darker and darker, and Casmir closed his eyes, trying not to panic. Tears ran down his cheeks as he realized all the men who’d been sick on the floor from the biological agent had to be dead now. They hadn’t had armor, not even galaxy suits.

And what of his parents? Were they inside the compound somewhere? Was more than this room collapsing?

The cacophonous noise filling his ears finally abated. Casmir looked around, but rocks were piled high to either side, and Zee was frozen above him, like a lean-to. If not for his night vision, Casmir wouldn’t have seen even that much.

He tried to determine if Zee was buried. How many feet of rock were atop him?

“Zee?” Casmir croaked. Even though his helmet had protected his mouth from dust, it was dry from fear. “Is it over? Can you tell how much rock is on top of you?”

“Approximately two tons. I will attempt to move it aside without letting boulders fall on you.”

“Thank you. You’re a good friend. My galaxy suit should help protect me if some get through.”

Zee reached down and patted him on the helmet. Casmir didn’t remember programming any playfulness into the crusher, though he had encouraged it to be friendly. Zee shifted, using one hand to push away boulders on top of him while continuing to lean against the wall and shield Casmir with his body.

“Rache?” Casmir called, though he doubted his voice would carry through the rocks. “Are you alive?”

He didn’t get an answer. With his inhuman strength, Zee kept pushing boulders away. Some tumbled back down, and Casmir had the impression of trying to unbury oneself from an avalanche, but eventually, Zee shifted, rising slightly. Casmir dug in his satchel and found the flashlight. He pointed the beam upward and could see past Zee’s torso to a distant jagged ceiling. A lot of it had fallen, but there was air up there. They weren’t completely buried.

After moving a few more rocks, Zee pulled himself out of the hole they were in. He reached down and pulled Casmir after him.

“How did you get here so fast?” Casmir asked.

“I ran. Kim Sato told me to come help you.”

“She’s safe?”

“She remains undisturbed in her home.”

“Good. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or alarmed that she can sense from afar that I’m in trouble.”

Casmir clambered about on hands and knees, pointing around with his beam. There was an exit at the end of the room, opposite the smashed and buried communication equipment, but only a foot at the top remained open. He couldn’t tell how much of the corridor outside had also collapsed.

Neither Rache’s black armor nor their enemy’s gray armor was in sight. Not that Casmir would have wanted to see a headless man. He knew he should have forgiveness in his heart for all human beings, but it was hard not to feel that the leader had deserved death. He hadn’t even known Casmir, and he’d been trying to kill him. If he was the one who’d ordered the bombings in the city, maybe this was a fitting end for him.

“Zee, can you dig over there?” Casmir pointed to the area where he’d last seen Rache. “My… ally was about there when the rocks started falling.”

It was possible Rache had escaped the room, especially with his armor to protect him, but Casmir couldn’t be certain of it.

“I sense vibrations in the rock.” Zee pointed at a spot near where Casmir had pointed.

“Is someone down there moving? Or trying to?”

“Yes.”

“Dig him out, please.”

Casmir tried to help, but the galaxy suit didn’t enhance strength the way combat armor did, and he mostly ended up in the way.

“Rache?” he called. “Is that you down there?”

If he was alive, how injured was he? Would he need medical attention right away? Who here on Odin would grant it? If the Kingdom Guard or the knights showed up—and Casmir had to assume they would, now that the stealth generator was down—they would shoot Rache instead of helping him.

It occurred to him that the stealth generator might have also been responsible for dampening signals, not just hiding the base.

Asger, he sent a message. If you receive this, please message me. I may be… Casmir looked around the chamber as Zee continued to dig. Stuck.

His chip let him know that he had a weak signal. All the rock around him probably blocked wireless transmissions almost as much as the special field had.

A boulder flew into the air. Startled, Casmir jumped back. Zee hadn’t done that.

Zee peered into the hole he’d been digging. Another rock flew up, larger than a man’s head. Zee caught it and tossed it aside.

“Rache?” Casmir asked warily.

After a pause, during which no more rocks were thrown, an equally wary, “Dabrowski?” came back.

“Yeah. I think you can call me Casmir now.”

“I see a crusher’s ugly head.”

“That’s Zee, and his head is as beautiful as the rest of him.”

Rache would know that if Zee had protected him from a massive rockfall.

“You’re a weird kid, Da—Casmir,” Rache said.

“Kid? Does that mean you’re older?”

“I don’t know, actually.” Another rock flew up. “It may be the other way around, but you seem younger than me. Than most adult men I know.”

“That’s because you spend your days with surly mercenaries instead of comic-book-reading robotics professionals.”

“They don’t all read comics, do they?”

“Only the ones you’d want to spend time with.”

More of Rache’s dusty armor came into view. Zee gripped his armpits and dragged him out of the hole, rocks tumbling into the vacated space. His face was bruised and bloody. Casmir was impressed that he’d managed to protect his naked head enough to survive the rockfall.

“I can’t believe you and your robot are rescuing me.” Rache sounded thoroughly disgusted.

“Would you rather have died under a crushing pile of rubble?”

“Let me think about that and get back to you.”

Casmir smiled slightly. He wasn’t positive Rache had needed rescuing. Had he ever truly been as helpless as he’d seemed? Maybe he’d allowed himself to be captured so he could find the leader. He might even have manipulated the situation to end up in the very room where Casmir’s crawlspace exited. He’d conveniently been standing in a spot that had kept all the guards from looking in Casmir’s direction. Maybe it had all been luck, but he was inclined to give Rache more credit than less.

CASMIR! came Asger’s reply. We’re tunneling in to look for you. Everyone is positive you’re dead.

I’m not dead yet. Who’s everyone?

Me, Qin, Lopez, and your parents.

My parents are here? Casmir rocked back, so relieved his knees almost buckled. Are they safe?

They’re waiting at the Dragon with Captain Lopez. Qin rescued them from a shuttle pilot who was bringing them to the base.

Oh, stellar! Kiss her for me, please.

Er, will a handshake do?

Be a mensch, Asger. The girl deserves a kiss. And so do you.

From her or from you?

Which one would alarm you less?

He hesitated. I’m not sure. Her, I think.

Good.

There are also a bunch of knights and Kingdom Guards that just arrived. Your robots can’t climb up to the entrance, but they helped secure the area outside.

Kingdom Guards? Casmir frowned at Rache. He’d been afraid of that.

Yes. They were already on the way when I messaged my commander. The shield that was protecting this base from being spotted by the satellites dropped.

I know. I dropped it.

I thought it might have been you.

Casmir was bolstered that Asger would give him that credit but also worried about what would happen to Rache when all those knights and Guards stormed in.

Zee is in here with me, Casmir told Asger, saying nothing of Rache. Don’t let them burst in firing, please. The doorway is mostly blocked, but we’ll start trying to clear it. Are you already inside the fortress?

Clearing a blocked passageway, yes.

Excellent. I look forward to being rescued.

“I lowered the energy field before finding my way to this room, so the knights and Kingdom Guard are all here and on their way in. You need to… I don’t know.” Casmir looked around bleakly, his night vision not showing much but rubble. “Hide. Or maybe you can get out the way I came in.”

Rache looked toward the high hole. A portion of the wall had collapsed along with the ceiling, but the crawlspace still appeared accessible. It was the only other exit, if one could call it that. Rache looked back to Casmir.

“They’re not going to listen to me if I tell them not to shoot,” Casmir added, not sure if Rache doubted the need to leave or was simply skeptical that he could get out that way. “Maybe you can take off your armor and push it ahead of you in there. If the ceiling hasn’t collapsed, it wasn’t that tight. Even if some collapsed, you have that rifle.”

Casmir waved at it. Rache had dragged it out of the hole with him.

“Maybe you can blow aside the rock with it. Quietly.” Casmir felt guilty that he couldn’t, after the help Rache had given him, offer him a ride back to civilization on the Dragon, but for all he knew, knights were prowling all around the freighter.

Rache pushed a hand through his sweaty hair—it was covered in dust and as mussy as Casmir’s usually was, albeit military short instead of flopping into his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Casmir asked, thinking Rache looked a little dazed. His armor was in poor shape, and he hadn’t had Zee to protect him from the boulders crashing down.

“Yes. That man who tried to kill us was Jager’s last chief superintendent of Royal Intelligence, before Van Dijk was promoted to the position. You may want to do some digging and find out what Jager did to alienate him.”

Casmir was more curious about the details of what Jager had done to alienate Rache. Had that comment about a killed fiancée been literal?

Faint scraping sounds—digging—reached his ears, and Casmir knew there wasn’t time for a long chat, even if Rache had been more forthcoming than usual.

“If I get a chance, I will,” Casmir said.

Rache removed his battered and soot-covered right gauntlet and stuck out his hand. It took Casmir a moment to recognize he was offering a handshake.

“Does this mean you don’t want me to hug you?” Casmir clasped the hand.

“This is as much growth in our relationship as I can handle for one day.”

“Seems fair. Though it has been a long and eventful day.” A long and eventful night, actually. Casmir’s chip informed him that dawn was approaching.

“Tell me about it.” Rache lowered his hand. He sounded exhausted.

Casmir wondered what all he’d had to do to make his way back to this room.

Rache walked across the uneven rubble toward the crawlspace. “I think you’ll find the answer to the question you keep asking me in the capital. In the Royal Zamek Seed Bank.”

“Seed bank?” Casmir asked.

Rache didn’t explain further. He put his gauntlet back on and sprang to the hole in the wall. The armor should have made it harder to maneuver in a tight space rather than easier, but he slid inside with grace that Casmir had never in his life known. He soon disappeared from sight, making not a sound as he slithered through the passage.

Rocks tumbled away from the main corridor entrance.

“Casmir?” Asger called. “Are you in there?”

“Yes.” Casmir faced the newcomers, debating what he would say if anyone asked what had happened to Rache. That he’d gotten away? That would be accurate.

“We’re coming to rescue you.”

“Good.” Casmir leaned against the solid Zee and closed his eyes. “I’m ready to be rescued.”

20

Kim put peanuts out on the railing behind the cottage she and Casmir shared on campus, wondering if the squirrels had long since given up on her and moved on to another more lucrative part of the neighborhood, or if they would catch the whiff of fresh food and quickly return.

She sipped her coffee and went back inside to get ready for work. She and Casmir had spent the previous evening cleaning up the mess the crusher had left behind—apparently, robot intruders weren’t superior to human thieves and couldn’t stomp through a person’s home without knocking over furniture and rifling through dresser and desk drawers. The place looked much better in the morning light, almost back to normal. A cleaning robot whirred through the kitchen, wiping up the toast crumbs Casmir had left on the counter.

“Almost back to normal,” she murmured, though it wasn’t, not really.

Most of the terrorists had been arrested and the base destroyed, but the missing gate still loomed over Casmir’s head. He seemed certain the king would soon send men to drag him off to find it. And for herself, Kim was still working for the government in their lab near the castle, rather than at her own place of employment. They’d allowed her to return home, now that the terrorists shouldn’t be a threat. But Chief Superintendent Van Dijk had made it clear they would keep an eye on her and that she wasn’t to take any unannounced leave until they were satisfied she’d refined her bacteria all she could.

Still, it was good to be back in the house. She gave her coffee grinder a loving pat as she strolled through the kitchen. She’d brought Rache’s espresso-preparation gifts back with her and felt a little silly with so many coffee accoutrements lined up on the counter, but as she’d told Casmir, it wasn’t a bad idea to have backups.

An alert appeared on her contact, telling her of a message arriving, and she gripped the counter, abruptly nervous. Rache.

What if he wanted to set up that dinner date?

No, thanks to some video footage the knights had uncovered in the rubble at that base, the entire Kingdom knew he was here now. The last she’d heard, they had been scouring the forest, looking for him, wanting him as badly as they wanted all the terrorists. More badly.

Greetings and farewell, Scholar Sato, the message read.

I waited until I was on my way out of orbit before composing this. Despite the hospitable weather in Zamek during my stay, I shall be avoiding Odin for a while. I had a few near misses with a handful of knights as I found covert transportation out of the planet’s cumbersome gravity well.

I regret that I’m unable to suggest a time and meeting place for that dinner date, though it would not surprise me if you were relieved. Nonetheless, I shall take this moment to thank you for the gift of those little vials. I didn’t recognize what precisely was in them—was it a custom concoction, perhaps?—but I must admit from personal experience that they were effective. Very effective.

Kim grimaced. Had he been doused himself?

Casmir deployed them at an opportune moment. A more opportune moment might have been ten seconds before I was captured and I still had my helmet on, but one mustn’t be picky when working with amateurs. I was able to escape with my life, which wasn’t a certainty for a while.

An image popped up of the sun rising over Zachowac Kingdom Forest, taken from some high point overlooking the treetops. The photograph captured the beauty of the lush greenery contrasted with the pink and blue sky, and it gave Kim a strangely poignant feeling, as if she had lost out on something by not seeing it in person.

I considered sending a picture of your agent in action, so you could see its effectiveness, but at the last moment decided images of men writhing in their own vomit might not be the most appropriate thing to share with a woman. Should you ever find yourself without a job or a safe place in the Kingdom, I would be most pleased to hire you.

~ David

David? Was that his real name? Huh.

She thought about replying, but he hadn’t asked for a reply, and even though she appreciated hearing that someone had found her contribution useful, she was, as he’d deduced, relieved—or at least ambivalent—that he was heading off and she wouldn’t likely see him again. It was for the best, and she would let it end here. She wasn’t going to become penpals with the most hated criminal in the Kingdom.

* * *

Casmir paced in the waiting area of the clinic, his hands clasped behind his back. Qin stood in a corner, her arms folded over her chest, pretending not to notice the glances her pointed ears earned her. Casmir was sure her alert eyes didn’t miss anything.

His mother and father were also in the waiting area. They had only met Bonita briefly, but they had both come along, and they watched his admittedly vigorous pacing without commenting that the breeze he was making was stirring the leaves on the potted plants.

“It’s a routine procedure, dear,” his mother said. “I’m sure she’s doing fine. She seemed very fit.” She didn’t add for her age, but that seemed to be implied.

Casmir refrained from pointing out that at fifty-eight, there weren’t that many years between them. She might disagree.

“Very routine,” his bespectacled father said, his gaze glued to the zero-g soccer game playing on the huge wall display. Now and then, his mild expression shifted to one of zealous approval as he half rose from his chair and clenched his fist.

Neither of his parents seemed emotionally or physically scarred from their brief stint as prisoners of terrorists. His father taught teenagers, so maybe it hadn’t been that different from a normal workday.

“I know,” Casmir said, not able to still his pacing. “And I’m glad. I’m just worried because I was the one who arranged this, or at least suggested it, and convinced Baron Denji Takahashi that he should speak with his colleagues about having it added to the patent purchase agreement.”

“Oh.” Mother clasped her hands together. “Did we tell you that we’re so proud of you for selling one of your patents?”

“Yes, three times. I appreciate it. Thank you.” Casmir also appreciated that his parents, who weren’t exactly swimming in wealth, hadn’t batted an eye when they’d found out he’d given what had turned out to be fifty thousand crowns, or a year of his before-tax salary, to someone else. “I’m just concerned because if things go wrong or aren’t as good as Laser hopes, I’ll feel responsible. I want her to be able to walk around her ship without being in pain. There are only ladders. No stairs or ramps or lifts.”

“Ladders?” Mother’s eyebrows rose. “That doesn’t sound at all like it meets Kingdom Accessibility Accordances and Laws.”

“No, Viggo—uhm, the Stellar Dragon—isn’t a Kingdom ship. There’s a sauna.” His distracted brain somehow thought that sounded like a logical explanation for the lack of a handicap-accessible ramp.

“So, after she falls down the ladder and twists her knee, she can go sweat? That doesn’t sound like a fair tradeoff.”

“There’s a salt room too.”

“A salt room?” An intermission with Recommended Kingdom Educational and Enrichment Material—or RKEEM—came on, and his father’s focus shifted to him. “I’ve heard such things are popular in System Hesperides culture, and have read that the negatively charged ions in salt supposedly improve health and positively alter brain chemicals. But I’m not aware of any peer-reviewed studies that have been done in the Kingdom. Do you think there’s anything to it? Or is it superstitious mumbo jumbo? And how many crystals of salt and at what size would you need for a sufficient dose?”

“I actually haven’t been in there yet. Most of the time I was in space, I was busy trying not to throw up.” Casmir looked at Qin, both to include her so she wouldn’t feel left out and in case she had an opinion to add.

“I’ve only been in there once,” she admitted. “I licked one of the crystals to see if it was real.”

“Was it?” Casmir’s father asked, smiling with amusement.

“Yes. It didn’t even taste stale. The ship is a hundred years old.”

“Maybe the salt gets replaced now and then.” Casmir’s mother’s brow creased, and she appeared slightly sick, either at the idea of stale salt or of licking walls full of it.

“I don’t think salt gets stale,” Casmir said. “They collect it from ancient dead seabeds.”

“If you say so,” his mother murmured.

Casmir went back to pacing, glad for their company. He’d promised to buy them dinner at the deli if they accompanied him. He didn’t need the moral support—he wasn’t the one having the surgery, though after all the abuse his body had received in the crash, he was tempted to schedule a visit with his doctor—but he was hesitant to let them out of his sight.

The Kingdom Guard and the knights should have mopped up the rest of the terrorists by now and sent the survivors back to their systems for rehabilitation or off to one of the convict-serviced Kingdom asteroid mines, but Casmir couldn’t quite believe he and his family were safe yet. Admittedly, he wasn’t. Any hour now, the king’s people would drag him off and remind him that he’d promised to find that gate.

He wondered if there was any chance that he’d be able to get into that seed bank before he left. When he’d asked Asger about it, Asger had said nobody but the royal family and their special guests were allowed inside.

“Are you going to continue flying around the system, Casmir?” his father asked. “Or will you be able to return to your work now? I know Professors Gunter and Sulu were very concerned by your abrupt absence.”

“And the increase in their workload?” Casmir smiled.

“That follows, I suppose. Gunter mentioned grading your students’ projects and that some of them were disturbingly creative. I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a concern.”

“I think he was talking about Hoshi’s robot arm and what he preprogrammed it to do. He just called it The Helper, but we were all positive he had more than holding a sake bottle in mind.”

His father’s forehead crinkled, and he looked at Mother. “I see the students at Zamek University aren’t any more mature than those at my little college. Despite the higher test scores required to get in.”

“If it helps,” Casmir said, his gaze drifting to the glass door as a familiar figure came into view, “I’m sure Hoshi’s math was impeccable.”

“That is some small comfort.”

The front door swung open, and Kim walked in.

“Kim!” Casmir’s mother sprang from her chair like a panther and pounced, smothering Kim in a hug.

“Sorry,” Casmir mouthed, not missing the pained grimace that crossed Kim’s face before she managed to smooth her features into a socially acceptable if stiff smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Dabrowski,” Kim said, awkwardly patting her on the back. “It’s good to see that you’re well. And you, Scholar Dabrowski.”

Casmir’s father rose and gave her a few pats on the shoulder, then drew Mother back. “We were the ones kidnapped, love, not her.”

“Technically, that’s not true,” Casmir said. “Kim was kidnapped earlier in the month. It’s the trendy thing for villains these days.”

His mother gasped and hugged her again before allowing Father to pull her back. Casmir felt a little bad calling Rache a villain after he’d helped him defeat the terrorists, but that couldn’t erase all the evil he’d done over the years. And Casmir had pulled him out of the crashed shuttle before it blew up and helped him get away from the base before the knights arrived. That should make them even, shouldn’t it? Just to be sure, Casmir would buy more gifts for the next time they met. He didn’t know how well received his starter set of comics had been, so maybe he would go with something more practical next time. Foldable, pocket-sized mask replacements, perhaps, for when bad guys blew up the main mask.

“I’m fine,” Kim said. “Thank you.”

“The galaxy isn’t what it used to be,” Casmir’s mother said.

“How did the surgery go?” Kim asked. “Has she had it yet?”

“The last we heard, they were monitoring the cartilage regeneration to make sure it’s underway as expected,” Casmir said. “They’ll make sure everything is promising before they let her go, and then she should know how much improvement there is after a few days. She’s supposed to be able to walk out without any need for mechanical aids.”

“Though she should definitely have professional therapy for several weeks,” his mother said.

“I’ll tell Viggo to download some routines,” Casmir said.

“Is Viggo an android?”

“Sort of. He’s the sentient essence embedded in her ship.”

His mother propped a fist on her hip. “A sentient essence can’t do therapy for someone. You need to be able to manipulate their limbs!”

“Laser is too grouchy to let anyone manipulate her anything,” Casmir said.

“You don’t think the procedure will change that?” Kim asked. “I thought she might be less grumpy if she wasn’t in pain all the time.”

Casmir looked to Qin again for an opinion. Qin had known the captain longer than he or Kim had.

“If she’s not grumpy, she’s usually melancholy,” Qin said. “Those are the two main states I’ve noticed.”

The front door opened again, and four sturdy men in the colors of the royal guard—royal bodyguards?—strode in. Was someone from the castle here to have surgery?

The men fanned out, hands on weapons, as they peered at the people in the lobby and waiting area. One spotted Qin and jumped, jerking his pistol from his holster. Qin crouched, either to spring at him or spring out of the way. Casmir’s mother gasped and lifted her hands.

Another of the guards stepped forward, gripped his buddy’s arm, and shook his head.

“But that’s—”

“Not a threat,” Casmir said, stepping in front of Qin and lifting his hands. It was only a moment later that he realized he was using the same gesture as his mother. “She’s a friend of one of the off-world patients.”

The guards stared at him longer than they’d looked at Qin. All four of them did. Casmir was beginning to squirm and feel nervous when one sighed and murmured something into a small comm pin.

A few seconds later, Princess Oku walked in, trailed by one more guard, who turned his back to the room to keep his focus on the square out in front of the clinic.

Casmir couldn’t imagine what had brought her here—he caught himself glancing down at her knees, as if they would be knobby and swollen from some malady. He recovered and bowed deeply, aware of his parents doing the same. Casmir assumed Oku would ignore all of them and head to the receptionist to check in for whatever treatment she needed, but she clasped her hands behind her back and walked straight to Casmir.

Only then did he remember that he’d sent her pages and pages—and pages—of notes on hypothetical robot bees. Robot bees that he’d dreamed up in a pitch-dark dungeon cell. He didn’t need light to interact with his chip and type up notes, but he might need it for his sanity and cohesiveness. Who knew what gibberish he’d sent over to her? Why hadn’t he thought to keep it to himself until he had more time to go over it?

“Professor Dabrowski,” Oku said.

“Yes, Your Highness?” He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to bow again, but it seemed safe. Until he found himself looking at her toes—she wore simple leather sandals, and a blade of grass stuck out from one of the straps. He wasn’t sure why, but he found that delightful, that she would wander about town without worrying about changing into some fancy dress—and grass-free—attire.

“Oh dear.” Oku must have wondered why he was holding his bow so long, for she looked down and spotted the grass blade. She plucked it up and held it out to drop it on the floor, but then reconsidered, as if that might be construed as littering. But her dress didn’t have any pockets.

She handed the blade of grass to an expressionless guard. He didn’t react other than to stick it into one of his pockets.

“Professor,” Oku said, recovering her equanimity and smiling. “Or may I call you Casmir?”

“Certainly, Your Highness.” He didn’t presume to ask her permission to use her first name. Or any name. “How may I help you?”

He pointedly did not look at his parents, who stood to the side, openly gaping. His father didn’t even glance toward the soccer game, though some exciting maneuver had the audience in the display rising up en masse and cheering.

“It is I who may be able to do you a favor. I appreciate that you sent that thorough report to me on robot bees, even if I’m… not certain I’m ready to relinquish my stubborn appreciation of the natural and aesthetically pleasing in favor of mechanized constructs.”

“Did you see the picture I drew where the robot bees had fuzzy yellow carapaces?” He lifted his eyebrows, then, realizing she’d mentioned doing a favor for him, shook his head. “Sorry, never mind. Go on?”

“I heard from Sir Asger—”

For some reason, Casmir had to fight his facial features not to wince at the notion of Asger strolling through the castle gardens with the princess.

“—that you’re interested in going to the Royal Zamek Seed Bank.” She tilted her head.

“Oh. Oh, yes. I was told…” A part of him wanted to bring up Rache and ask her how she knew the man—or had known him—but not here with everyone looking on. “I was told I might find it enlightening.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother’s eyebrows climbing.

“Seeds?” his father mouthed.

Realizing the princess might wonder why they were staring, Casmir rushed to introduce them, though he had no idea what etiquette would be appropriate. He ended up blurting, “These are my parents, Irena and Aleksy Dabrowski. That’s Qin Liangyu and Scholar Sato. Mama, Papa, everyone, I’m sure you’ve seen Princess Oku on the news. She’s here for, uhm…” Not simply to see him, he was certain, but if she had some medical affliction she needed treated, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by drawing attention to it. “Reasons.”

Oku’s smile wasn’t quite amusement, but it wasn’t pain either, so he regarded that as a victory. If anything, he suspected he was befuddling her.

A couple of her bodyguards rolled their eyes. Maybe men were often befuddled around the princess.

“Yes,” she said. “Reasons. And to give you this, Professor.”

As she dipped her hand into a purse, Casmir almost blurted that she should definitely use his first name, but that would probably cause more eye rolling from the guards. And wasn’t likely appropriate. Professors should be formal with princesses, especially professors who weren’t of the nobility.

Though Rache had said that wasn’t true, that Casmir—they—would be considered noble if some legal precedent regarding clones was set.

“I go a few times a year to make copies of the original flower and vegetable seeds, whenever I’ve fumbled sufficiently that I need to start from scratch.” Oku snorted softly and pulled out a keycard with an acorn imprinted on one side. She handed it to him. “There’s not usually a guard or overseer there managing it, but security keeps out anyone without an access card. You can use mine. Just leave it at the desk before you go. Someone will find it eventually, assume I left it, and return it to me.”

As she explained the scenario, it dawned on Casmir that she was essentially offering to help him break in, not giving him legal access.

“Thank you, but you won’t get in trouble, will you?” Casmir didn’t know what kind of trouble the twenty-something-year-old daughter of the king and queen could get into—being grounded and confined to her room?—but he hated to imagine her even being lectured.

“Probably not.”

“Probably?” Casmir held the card back out toward her. “Your Highness, I appreciate your offer, but I don’t want you to possibly get in trouble because you helped me.”

“And yet, I’m certain your curiosity will drive you to use that.” She smiled, clasped her hands behind her back, and walked to the desk where two receptionists had appeared.

One bowed profusely and hurried to walk the princess to the door to the treatment area—while continuing to bow profusely. Hands still clasped behind her back, Oku strolled inside.

Two of the bodyguards followed, and the other three took up positions along the wall near the front door. Casmir looked at them, raised his eyebrows, and held out the card. Perhaps the one who’d taken the blade of grass would accept it and return it to Oku?

But all three merely stared stonily at the wall behind Casmir, their gazes going over his head. Unless he wanted to presume to walk up and tuck it into one of their pockets, he wasn’t going to get rid of it. He looked over at Kim, but she only shrugged.

Reluctantly, Casmir slipped it into his own pocket. Just because she had given it to him didn’t mean he had to use it. He could give it to Asger to return to her the next time he was at the castle.

“Casmir?” his mother asked. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t know.” He waved toward the door Oku had disappeared through, pretending to misunderstand, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to explain to his parents that he was on the hunt to find out who he’d been cloned from. He would tell them eventually, but for some reason, he felt the urge to keep this quest to himself, at least until he found out. “We’ve only met once before. I wonder if she’s here for a treatment of some kind or visiting a friend? The media have never mentioned her being ill, have they?”

His mother’s eyes narrowed. She probably knew he was deliberately avoiding her question.

“Not that I’m aware of,” his father answered.

“I meant about the seed bank,” Mother said. “Since when do you have an interest in horticulture?”

Before Casmir was forced to come up with an explanation, the inner door opened again, and Bonita walked out, accompanied by a nurse. She was walking stiffly, but as soon as she reached the waiting area, she hiked up a pant leg, revealing a knee brace with blinking indicators. They appeared to be the reason for the stiff gait.

“I got knee warmers,” she announced to Qin and Casmir.

“Are they… permanent?” Qin asked.

Now it was the nurse who rolled her eyes. That seemed to happen a lot in this building.

“They’re to be worn for three days,” the nurse said, “and they’re regeneration enhancers.”

“They’re making my knees warm and tingly,” Bonita said.

“Yes. I’ve messaged you a list of stretches and exercises to aid with your recovery. Comm us if you have any difficulties.” The nurse walked out swiftly.

Casmir tried to decide if she was rude or if Bonita had been a particularly nettlesome patient. The latter seemed a distinct possibility.

Qin came over and hugged her. “You can do your exercises with me, Captain.”

Bonita seemed almost as startled as Kim had been by her hug. She patted Qin’s arm.

“I hope you mean at the same time on adjacent mats rather than in a sparring and wrestling manner,” Bonita said.

“You don’t think you’ll be up for some light sparring now that your knees are fixed?” Qin smiled.

“Not with you. I might be able to take on Casmir.”

Ah, the reputation he had. He only smiled. “You know you don’t get me without Zee.”

“In that case, I’ll spar with myself. In bed. While munching on chocolate-drizzled sopaipillas.”

The receptionist tapped Casmir on the shoulder, distracting him from Qin’s stern response about taking rehabilitation seriously.

“Yes?” His first thought was that she would tell him the princess wanted to see him, but he couldn’t imagine why that would be.

“Someone out back wants to talk to you.” She pointed to a side door. “There’s a parking area through that alley and to the rear.”

“Er, someone?”

This sounded like the set up to a kidnapping. Another one.

“He said not to say, but I suggest you don’t delay if you value your life.” Her face was grave, no hint of humor in her eyes suggesting it was a joke.

It wouldn’t be Rache, would it? Casmir assumed he’d left the planet and returned to his ship as soon as possible.

“Qin,” Casmir said. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, please come after me. I’ve probably been kidnapped.”

Qin’s eyebrows shot up. So did Kim’s. His parents, who were intimately aware of his sense of humor after thirty-two years, merely smiled. For once, Casmir wasn’t joking, but he didn’t want to alarm them, so he didn’t correct their assumption. His mother was busy giving Bonita commentary about the merits of exercises that would likely be listed in the rehabilitation file.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Qin asked.

Kim took a step toward him, as if to come.

Casmir held up his hand. “No, thanks. I’ll holler if I need you.”

Fearing he had only ensured Qin and Kim would worry, Casmir hurried out into the alley, where a drizzle fell from the gray sky. He walked warily to the parking lot out back, and his stomach flip-flopped a few times when he spotted a sleek shuttle painted in the purple and gold of the Kingdom. It was smaller than the shuttle Asger had used, but it had weapons and a durable hull that could surely repel weapons of all kinds.

The side hatch was open, and two bodyguards in the same uniform that Oku’s people wore stood to either side. When they spotted Casmir, one crooked a finger in stony-faced invitation.

Was this the shuttle and crew that had brought the princess? Or had someone monitored the exchange and reported the passing of the keycard and sent them to fetch it? Casmir touched his pocket, reluctant to give it back, even though he’d decided not to use it. Probably.

When he stepped into the shuttle, a chauffeur waved him to a seat. The hatch closed behind him. Casmir was halfway into the indicated seat when he recognized the man sitting across from him. King Jager.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” he blurted, and tried to alter his motion from sitting into a bow. He almost pitched forward and fell into the king’s lap.

The chauffeur stuck an arm out as one of the bodyguards surged forward protectively. Casmir managed to catch himself before their services were needed, and he quickly sat in the seat.

Jager watched this all impassively. There were other empty seats in the back of the shuttle. Casmir guessed he had come along with his daughter, and their myriad bodyguards, for her… treatment, if that was what she was getting. Casmir was curious about it, but there was no way he would ask the king for details.

He rested his hands on his knees and waited to be addressed, though he assumed this would be about the keycard. Would Jager simply demand it back? Or would he want to know why Casmir wanted to visit the seed bank?

“You look reasonably well after your adventures,” Jager said.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I got battered around a bit, but my mother gave me some Rejuv, and it worked better than I expected. She uses that on everything, you know. Applies it to wounds, burns, rashes, eczema, and gives it orally as an immune-system boost. Those are the on-label uses, I believe. I’ve also seen her give it to plants. Externally, of course. I don’t think there’s a way to give plants an oral treatment. Though I suppose one could do injections of a sort.” Casmir could hear himself babbling, and was aware that he needed to end it, but for some reason, he couldn’t make his mouth stop spitting words. It was just like with Rache. Jager also made him nervous.

“And you’ve seen your family,” Jager said, ignoring the babble completely. Maybe his mind had wandered. Casmir couldn’t be the most important morsel on his plate for the day.

“Yes.” Casmir forced his lips together to keep further words from spewing out.

“The results of your trip to the terrorist base were adequate. I would say more than adequate, but I’m not pleased to learn that a heinous criminal was not only on my planet but seemed to be working with you.” Jager’s brows rose. Inviting an explanation?

“I figured I had to draw upon resources that weren’t readily accessible to the Kingdom Guard and the knights, since they’d already tried and failed to locate the base.”

“And you consider Rache—” Jager spat the name out like a poisonous mushroom, “—a resource?”

“Not technically.” Casmir’s eye blinked twice.

He had to be careful—very, very careful. If the king believed he and Rache were buddies now, Jager would have him exiled—or worse—as a punishment, whether Rache had helped with the terrorists or not. And if Casmir really screwed up, he could get Kim incriminated too. But he couldn’t lie or skirt the truth or he’d break out in a sweat, if not hives, on the king’s expensively upholstered seat. That might happen whether he lied or not.

“I wouldn’t say I manipulated him into wanting to work toward my goals,” Casmir said, “because that sounds, er, manipulative, but after the terrorists bombed the synagogue and kidnapped my parents, I knew I had to do whatever was necessary to stop them.”

“I assume you’re done manipulating him?” Jager asked.

“Oh, yes. He’s a most distasteful human being. I have no desire to spend time with him.”

Jager snorted, and Casmir was positive he read the irony in the king’s eyes. By now, Casmir had no doubt that Jager knew he and Rache shared the same genes—and he was positive the man knew who their progenitor was and likely who had ordered them cloned.

“See to it that you don’t cross his path again,” Jager said. “You are only of use to the Kingdom and the crown if we can trust you.”

Casmir nodded and smiled. “I understand.”

But could he trust Jager?

And did it matter, even if he couldn’t? He didn’t want to give up his home, and he longed to one day return to the work he loved at the university, even if he planned to get more involved in politics and fight harder to make changes for the better for people. As long as he wanted to live on Odin and be a Kingdom subject, he had to do whatever the king wanted. Even if he now wished he’d never met Jager.

“Good. My Fleet reports have come in.” Jager’s eyes closed to slits. “An invisible ship was reported activating the gate and escaping our system. More than seven days ago. It could be anywhere in the Twelve Systems.”

Casmir slumped back in the seat. He hadn’t forgotten that he’d promised to find the missing gate and fix the problem he’d inadvertently created, but he’d hoped it would turn out that the Fleet ships that had checked his coordinates had simply failed to search adequately. How had he messed up and let someone else find it? Someone else who’d taken it… He couldn’t even guess where. The astroshamans were a religion, not a nationality. They existed all over the Twelve Systems. Their headquarters could be anywhere. And they could also be working for someone else. As the terrorists here might have been.

“You promised to find the missing gate to redeem yourself,” Jager said.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I did.”

“Pack your belongings and whatever tools you need for an extended journey. You’ll only be welcome back on Odin if you bring that gate with you.”

“I understand.” Casmir dropped his chin to his chest. He wanted to rail that this was unfair, but was it? He’d meddled, overestimated his abilities, and this was the logical result. The king could have shot him outright.

“Captain Ishii and the Osprey are on their way to Odin to pick you up. They’ll be here in three days.”

Casmir jerked his head up. “Ishii, sir?”

“Yes.”

Of all the warships and captains in the Kingdom Fleet, he had to be assigned to travel again with his nemesis from robotics camp?

“Is there any chance that I could, if I can talk her into it, fly with the Stellar Dragon and Captain Lopez? I would prefer—”

“No.”

Casmir lifted his finger. “But we’ve worked together in tough situations a number of times now, and I’ve found it advantageous to have an unassuming freighter rather than—”

“No.”

Casmir lowered his finger. “No?”

“This will be a military operation with a military commander in charge. You will go as a civilian advisor and answer to him. A knight will accompany you to act as your bodyguard and to keep you out of Captain Ishii’s hair.”

“A knight?” Not his knight? “Not Sir Asger?”

“I am debating whether Sir Asger’s loyalties are compromised when it comes to you.”

“He did deliver me to your dungeon.”

“After releasing you from Ishii’s brig cell and taking you off in his shuttle, presumably at your urging, to start the whole mess with the gate.”

“May I point out that if Sir Asger and I hadn’t intervened, the cargo ship would have escaped the system or Captain Rache would have obtained it?”

“The ship escaped the system anyway.”

“But Rache doesn’t have it.” Casmir hoped the king would see that as a positive point, since he felt so strongly about Rache.

“Let’s hope. If he hadn’t been seen in your wake here on Odin, I would assume he’s already looking for it. Is that where he was going? Did you tell him anything?”

“I told him I was responsible for it currently being lost,” Casmir said. “He neglected to tell me where he was headed after this.”

“Pack your belongings and be ready, Dabrowski.” Jager pointed at the hatch, and it opened. “I’ll consider whether I’m going to give Asger a chance to redeem himself or not.”

“He was paramount in bringing down the terrorists, Your Majesty.” Casmir wouldn’t argue about his own merits, but it bothered him to let Asger be disparaged without saying anything. “I know he’s loyal to the Kingdom.” He almost added and the queen but realized that might be part of the problem. Maybe Jager didn’t care for a handsome young knight being more loyal to his wife than to him.

“Let’s hope,” Jager repeated, pointing again to the hatch.

Having no urge to linger, Casmir hurried out. He found Qin and Kim waiting in the alley, standing under the eaves and watching the shuttle in the drizzle.

“We wanted to make sure you weren’t kidnapped,” Kim said.

“Those bodyguards and I have been practicing our glowers on each other.” Qin leaned around the corner, but she smiled and waved instead of glowering. Maybe the glower practice had only been necessary while Casmir had been inside.

“Whose was fiercer?” he asked.

“Mine. You can’t glower effectively without fangs.”

Casmir believed it might be more of a sneer than a glower if teeth were on display, but he wasn’t an expert on menacing people, so he kept the thought to himself.

“Everything all right?” Kim eyed Casmir. “Your mother invited everyone to dinner.”

“Even me.” Qin beamed.

Casmir’s throat tightened. He realized that he might not see Qin and Bonita again after he left Odin. They would likely depart soon, headed off to whatever bounty hunting or cargo hauling they planned to do next, and he… He had a date with the extremely unappealing Captain Ishii. Ishii glowered very well, even without fangs.

“Good,” he said and made himself smile. “Bonita too?”

“Yes.”

“Does she realize my mother is a physical therapist and will insist on helping her with some exercises before dinner?”

Qin looked toward the door. “I think so. They were discussing leg lifts and wall squats when we left.”

“I’ll make sure to bring alcohol to the dinner. To ease the pain.”

“From the procedure?” Kim asked. “Or from enduring your mother’s well-meaning assistance?”

Casmir nodded. “Both.”

* * *

Qin packed the recently delivered food crates into the freezer section under the cargo hold deck as Bonita lay on a mat, groaning dramatically as she did leg lifts.

“I would rate that an 8.7,” Viggo said.

“A what?” Bonita lowered her leg and scowled suspiciously toward the closest speaker.

A robot vacuum trundled past her mat.

“I have decided to rate your groans on a scale from zero to ten, with zero being inauthentic and ten being worthy of a theatrical award.”

“You’re hilarious, Viggo.”

“Indeed. Over the years, numerous passengers on the Stellar Dragon have remarked on that very fact.”

“How many is numerous?” Qin climbed out of the freezer and closed the lid.

“Not less than six.”

“In a hundred years?” Bonita grimaced and did a few more leg lifts. “That’s a long time, but that number still seems too high.”

A beep came from the closed cargo hatch. Had the delivery robot found another crate it had forgotten to bring?

Qin jogged over and opened the hatch. The same woman who’d delivered a parcel to Casmir the week before stood on the ramp. When she saw Qin, her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she managed to thrust it at her.

“No signature necessary,” she blurted and ran back to her vehicle.

Expecting it to be for Bonita, Qin headed toward her mat with the flat, lightweight package. But she read the shipping label as she started to set it down. It was addressed to her and from Sir William Asger.

A nervous flutter teased her stomach.

“What is it?” Bonita asked. “Not a book about knee exercises from that awful nurse, I hope.”

“It’s from Asger.”

“What are his feelings on knee exercises?”

“I don’t know. It’s addressed to me.”

“Oh?” Bonita sat up and waved at the flat package. “Open it.”

Qin used a claw to slice a careful opening and slid out a card in an envelope and a Kingdom calendar for the upcoming year. On Odin. Qin scratched her head with the same claw. “That’s an odd thing to give to a space traveler. Does he think I’ll visit here often and need to know the date?”

“What is it?” Bonita climbed to her feet.

Qin showed her the front of the calendar, the image of a hooded man on the cover, his face in shadow.

“Is that him?” Bonita pointed at the jawline visible, its dark blond beard and mustache impeccably trimmed.

“Oh. I think it is.”

Bonita took it and flipped to the first month, then laughed at the shirtless Sir William Asger posing with his leg up on some metal beam with industrial buildings in the background. His muscles were on prominent display, his eyes twinkling as he smiled at the camera. Bonita turned to the next month. This time, Asger’s legs were also naked as he stood in front of trees, with nothing but an artfully placed branch blocking the view of his groin.

“Ay, que güero,” Bonita purred.

Qin’s cheeks flamed red.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen naked men before. It was just that none of the Drucker pirates had looked like that.

“I don’t think it’s the date that he wants you to look at.” Bonita held up the near-naked picture for Qin’s perusal. “If I were still married, I might have left my husband for this. If only to fool around. But he’d have to promise not to talk or stick his haughty nose in the air.”

“Why do you think he sent it to me?”

Bonita had flipped to the next month. In the photo, Asger was dressed and on the beach with the surf in the background, but the way his wet clothing hugged his muscular form left even less to the imagination than the branch picture.

“Captain?” Qin prompted when Bonita continued her perusal without answering.

Bonita smirked and looked up. “I’m just making sure they didn’t leave any months out. Look, he signed December. Oh, and the front.”

“Does that… make it more valuable? Like a signed book?”

“I’m not sure what the collectors’ market on calendars is like. I imagine he mostly wants you to hang it in your cabin and ogle him while you’re entertaining yourself.”

Qin’s cheeks flushed even hotter. She wasn’t positive Bonita was alluding to… sexual entertaining, since they’d never discussed such things, but she found herself mortified nonetheless.

“He wouldn’t want that. He’d be horrified at being ogled by a… me.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. All men like to be ogled by all women. It’s human nature. What’s the card say? That he’s realized you’re the most magnificent woman ever and that he was an idiot for prejudging you?”

“I’m guessing not.” As Qin used her claw as a letter opener, she noticed that Bonita had tucked the calendar under her arm. Maybe she intended to put it in her cabin. “Liangyu Qin,” she read. “He got it backwards, but most people do.”

“Give him credit for trying. I wouldn’t have guessed he knew you had more than one name.”

“Qin, my apologies for attacking you when we first met. If you return to Odin in the future and need an escort to the park to hug trees at night, let me know. I’ll be happy to go with you.” Qin smiled. It wasn’t a confession of love, but at least it seemed an offer of friendship.

“Hug trees?”

“My feline DNA called me to the wilds of the park over there.” Qin waved.

“And for you to cuddle with the native foliage?”

“An urge came from somewhere.”

“Usually, felines sharpen their claws on trees.”

“You file my claws every month, so that’s not necessary.”

“Huh.” Bonita handed her the calendar and waved skyward. “Where to next?”

“You’re letting me decide?”

“As long as it gets us out of this system. I’ve had enough of the Kingdom. And I thought you might like to pursue your freedom.”

That had been on Qin’s mind. She still didn’t want to accept any of Bonita’s new money to attempt to bribe the Druckers, but she did long for her freedom. True freedom where she wasn’t owned by anyone, even on paper. She didn’t yet know how she might barter for that, but she had speed, strength, and agility, and a captain willing to fly her places. That was more than most people had. She couldn’t help but think of all the things Casmir seemingly fearlessly accomplished without any of those things. If he could do it, couldn’t Qin?

“Yes,” Qin said firmly.

Bonita raised her eyebrows.

“The last I heard, the Druckers’ main ships are in System Cerberus.”

“The system run by criminals, liars, cheats, frauds, pirates, and gangsters?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll set a course. If nothing else, there should be plenty of bounty-hunting work.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Qin knew there would be more than the typical number of people there who would try to collect on her bounty, but she vowed to elude them and find her freedom. One way or another.

Epilogue

Casmir stood in the shadows of a row of hedges that surrounded the five-story black glass and blacker steel cube of a building that was the Royal Zamek Seed Bank. It was late, and only the windows by the lobby were lit. A robot guard on two wheels rolled around the exterior of the complex, making steady and predictable circuits. There weren’t any gates or other barriers across the wide sidewalk that led to the front door.

Casmir pulled the keycard out of his tool satchel, the acorn appearing to be no more than a dark smudge in the dim lighting.

It wasn’t too late to back out. He’d said he wasn’t going to do this, because he didn’t want to risk Oku getting in trouble. But tomorrow, he was to ship out on a mission he might not survive. Even if he made it back, he didn’t know when that would be, and he couldn’t help but feel like an idiot for not yet having figured out who he’d been cloned from. Rache knew, Jager knew, the queen knew, and Royal Intelligence probably knew. Even Asger had seemed to suspect something. Did Princess Oku also know? Probably. She had known of his existence before they’d met face to face.

“Do you want me to do it?” Kim asked from his side.

“Yes.” Casmir imagined Kim getting in trouble when her fingerprints were found on the card and promptly changed his mind. “No. I’m ready.”

She shrugged, and they headed up the sidewalk. The security robot whirred toward them, and Casmir held up the keycard. He didn’t know if that would be enough to satisfy it, or if it would tell them to come back during the building’s listed “open” hours. Which were three hours one day a week. Apparently, a custodian came in to make copies of seeds and embryos for those with the proper paperwork. She was a noble and a distant relative of the royal family. As Casmir had learned, few people who weren’t members of the royal family were ever allowed in.

A red beam flashed across the card as the robot scanned it. Without a word, it returned to its circuit.

“I guess we’re allowed in,” Casmir said.

“It’s a good thing photo ID isn’t required. Even a robot without eyes could tell you’re not Princess Oku.”

“Not much of a resemblance, eh?”

“She’s prettier than you.”

“Yes, I noticed that too.”

Kim gave him a long look, and for some reason, his cheeks heated. Casmir hadn’t meant to imply anything with that statement.

“It’s allowed, right? To notice?” He shouldn’t have said anything. Kim hadn’t said anything. Yet he heard himself adding, “It’s not like I’m going to ask her on a date.”

They had reached the front door. Kim faced the lobby without commenting.

“Asger likes her.” Casmir inserted the keycard into the slot. “He’d probably see it as a betrayal if I tried to ask her on a date. When I suggested robot bees for her space habitat project, Asger pointed out that I was a janitor mopping the arena floor and that she’s in the royal boxes.”

He wondered what it said about his sense of self-worth that he kept repeating that to people.

“That doesn’t seem entirely accurate,” Casmir added. “I’m at least the guy who builds the robots who mop the arena floor.”

The card reader beeped, and the door swung inward. He glanced at Kim again as they walked inside the lobby.

“You’re not saying anything. Is it because you get bored discussing these topics or because you’re silently supporting me and think that if I possibly someday do want to ask the princess on a date, I might be charming enough to convince her to say yes?”

“I am silently supporting you in your various endeavors.”

He squinted at her, searching for sarcasm, but she seemed sincere. She was probably indifferent to who he dated or how he embarrassed himself.

Unexpectedly, she added, “I told our dinner guest that I would have a private dinner with him if he took off his mask.”

Casmir dropped the card. He cursed and tried to pick it up, but it was difficult on the smooth marble floor. Either that, or he was so flustered that he couldn’t use his fingers properly. Finally, he pulled it up and stared at Kim.

“Please tell me you’re talking about Asger.”

“Does he wear a mask?”

“Maybe a slumber mask so he doesn’t get eye wrinkles.”

“You’re thinking of cucumbers.”

“I’m so confused.” Casmir couldn’t stop staring at Kim, but her face was as impassive as ever.

“Cucumber juice can reduce swelling, soothe damaged skin, and stimulate antioxidant activity.”

“I meant about R—him.” At the last second, he realized there might be cameras in here—it was highly likely there were. They couldn’t talk about this here. He didn’t want to talk about it anywhere. Was it possible she was teasing him? Kim could deliver a joke in the most deadpan tone. She excelled at it.

“I’m unsure about his soothing and stimulating effects,” Kim said.

That was a joke. Her eyes glinted with humor.

But Casmir was too horrified to find anything humorous about this. “There aren’t any. Kim.”

He rubbed his face, almost poking himself in the eye with the keycard. She couldn’t be serious about going on a date with Rache. She didn’t even date. She hated sex. If she ever procreated, she wanted it all to be handled in a lab with test tubes. She’d told him that. Many times. In the seven years they had been roommates, he’d never seen her go out on a date. And he had seen her turn down offers from men. Nice, attractive men. Not psychopaths!

She sighed. “I suppose you can’t be silently supportive.”

“No.”

She gave him a sad look, and he felt like someone who’d kicked a kitten.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was for not being able to be silently supportive. He couldn’t make himself rescind his objection to Rache. That man was evil. There was no reason to have dinner with someone like that, unless it was to talk him into helping do a good thing.

Kim pointed to a computer terminal built into the wall next to a pair of heavy steel doors without handles or knobs. “Perhaps we should start there.”

She walked over first. Casmir took a deep breath and steadied himself before following her. He found some peace in knowing that Rache had left the planet. Kim was here and would hopefully return to her regular life and her regular work soon, and she would forget all about him. And Rache would realize he couldn’t risk coming back to Odin for a dinner date.

“It shows records of people who entered and whether they checked out or made copies of materials.” Kim scrolled down a screen. “Maybe just made copies. It doesn’t look like anyone is allowed to leave with the original material, even if there’s a field for it.”

Casmir made himself focus as the names of people listed for the past few months scrolled past. Oku was the last listed for today—their entry.

“It’s the same people over and over,” Kim said. “Members of the royal family and a couple of well-known scientists of noble blood. It looks like almost everybody gets copies of seeds, but here’s someone who got a frozen frog embryo. And a couple of years ago, the princess checked out some bee embryos.”

“Yeah, she mentioned starting from scratch a couple of times.” Casmir lifted a finger, intending to key in a search, but his hand was shaking. He almost laughed, embarrassed. For some reason, he was nervous about what he would find. “I have a birthday coming up. Can you look up who was checking out what thirty-three years ago? Er, thirty-three years and nine months?”

“It would have been closer to six months if they used artificial wombs. They speed up gestation.”

“Right.” He waved for her to run the search. “I’m sure that’s how it—how I—was done.”

His mind still boggled at the notion that he was someone’s clone. In part because it seemed weird that someone would choose to clone a progenitor plagued with all of his genetic idiosyncrasies. And in part because it was difficult to accept as being core to his identity—it shouldn’t be, since it happened all around him, albeit more often with animals than people, but it meant he was exactly like someone else who had already lived. At least on the genetic level. It was surprising that he and Rache were so different, even with the gene cleaning Rache had received.

“Here.” Kim pointed to the screen.

There had only been a handful of entries that year. She pointed straight to one set of names, not even considering any of the others.

Prince Jager and Princess Iku—it had been two years before the old king was assassinated and Jager crowned. They had checked out…

“Embryo 7J?” Casmir scrunched up his nose. “That’s not super enlightening.”

Kim tapped a couple of buttons, and a map appeared. “It’s in the basement.”

They stepped up to the intimidating doors, and Casmir imagined a legion of security robots waiting to mow them down for presuming to sneak into the facility. Or maybe the doors wouldn’t open at all. He slipped the keycard in another slot. Would Princess Oku’s access get them all the way to this embryo basement?

The doors opened, and lights flickered on, revealing a large room devoid of robots or any other type of security. Corridors headed off in several directions, and there was an elevator at the back. Nothing impeded them as Kim and Casmir walked through, though he did notice light glinting off the lens of a security camera. Eventually, someone would know they had been here.

They stepped into the elevator, and it descended without input. Because it only went one place, or because the computer system knew what they had been looking at and assumed that was where they wanted to go? Normally, intelligent and intuitive computers didn’t bother Casmir, but he found the idea strangely ominous tonight. Maybe this trip had been a mistake.

“If my guess is right,” Kim said apropos of nothing, “I will find that conversation about the princess to be a quite literal example of history repeating itself. I suppose it’s impossible for the Kingdom to experience a sense of collective déjà vu, but it’s hard at times not to personify institutions.”

Casmir stared at her. “Does that mean I shouldn’t ask her to dinner?”

“No. But if she accepts and your identity becomes widely known, it could prompt prophesying.”

“You already know what I’m going to find down here?”

The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open on a dark room with an icy chill.

“I have a suspicion,” Kim said. “There aren’t many old dead people that I could imagine Jager wanting to clone.”

Old. A reminder that his progenitor had lived in a time before The Great Plague, that his mitochondria had never been altered to thwart the virus that had decimated humanity.

“Someone else might have chosen a renowned scientist or engineer,” Kim said. “I highly doubt he did.”

She stepped out. This time, the lights didn’t come on. Casmir joined her and waved a hand, in case motion sensors had failed to register. Nothing happened.

He dug into his toolkit and pulled out a compact flashlight. It was for peeking into robot housings, not illuminating rooms, and a laughably narrow beam came on.

Fortunately, there wasn’t far to go. There was a single room—a vault—and it wasn’t as large as Casmir would have expected. The walls were full of what looked like drawers with keyholes. Whatever was in them—frozen cells, presumably—he wasn’t going to be able to extract. That was fine. He already had what was in the drawer he wanted to see.

Casmir swallowed and walked forward, looking for Row 7. His mind was oddly blank, refusing to process Kim’s words and make guesses. In a few seconds, he would know.

Kim walked behind him, not saying a word.

Row 7. Casmir’s hand shook, the beam bouncing on the drawers, each one labeled with a plaque, a name. He passed the kinds of names he might have expected, award-winning scientists and scholars from the last hundred years. It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would save tissue samples from those people, but he supposed it made sense. None of them were old enough to predate the Plague. Not until he reached… J.

His mouth went dry. Admiral Milos Mikita.

A famous warrior?

Casmir checked the row and letter again. 7J. Admiral Mikita. The man who had, over three hundred years ago, almost singlehandedly united the Twelve Systems under Kingdom rule for King Dieter. King Dieter and his daughter, Princess Sophie, Casmir amended silently, Kim’s elevator comment coming to mind. The princess had supposedly been his inspiration, the one whose love he’d sought to prove himself worthy of.

Casmir looked at Kim. Was this truly what she had guessed?

She nodded once.

“I don’t see how.” Casmir’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “He was a great warrior. And he was eight feet tall. And handsome. Someone like Asger, not like me.” Casmir waved his hand over his scrawny five feet and seven inches of height.

“He was an officer who led warriors. Eventually. He came out of the common class and somehow finagled his way into the knighthood but was only made a noble after a number of victories. You’ll have to find one of the history books to read. An old physical history book. I suspect there’s been some revisionist history over the last couple of centuries, at least in regard to his physical appearance.”

Casmir stared at the drawer, as if it could show him what the real admiral had looked like.

“Remember that comment Qin made after we first met her?” Kim asked. “When she said you kind of looked like Mikita? Maybe you should check her bookcase. Whatever she has wouldn’t have come out of our system.”

“Have you known that long?” Casmir couldn’t believe Kim wouldn’t have said something.

“No. I didn’t think anything of the comment at the time. I didn’t have a clue until I saw Rache’s unaltered mitochondria. But now it makes sense.”

“It does?”

“That Jager would try to make his own Admiral Mikita? Yes. Two of them, technically, though I suppose…”

“I was a mistake?” Casmir snorted. That he could believe. “That the artificial womb flubbed up with my genes, and they had to make another one? Would that make me Rache’s older brother, do you suppose?”

“Artificial wombs don’t work like that. My guess is that they threw you in the stewpot without doing any gene testing, in part because modifying genes is illegal in the Kingdom, and in part because they assumed nothing would be deleterious in Mikita’s genes. And then at some point, a doctor did a checkup and called them in.”

“And said this kid’s eye is in the socket sideways and he’s going to have seizures all over the place when we let him out of this box?”

Kim snorted. “Your eye isn’t that bad.”

“I’ve seen pictures from before the surgery.”

“Mm. Anyway, at that point, they may have decided to start over with Rache and had the doctor do some less than legal gene cleaning.”

“So I should feel lucky they didn’t flush me down the toilet?”

Casmir pushed a hand through his hair. He wondered if he had the queen to thank for that. He couldn’t imagine Jager having a soft spot in his heart for a mistake. Maybe Queen Iku had been the one to hand him off to the foster parent system. As a kinder alternative to death? Someone had made sure his education was funded. His adoptive parents didn’t know anything about his birth or where he’d come from, but they had been given enough money to pay for all the years of school it had taken to earn an advanced degree.

“I wish I’d gotten a chance to talk to her,” he murmured.

“Who?”

“The queen. But now I’m off on some new mission tomorrow, and I don’t even know… God, that’s why Jager is letting me do this stuff, isn’t it? He thinks somehow my genes are going to allow me to perform great heroics, even if I was a reject. Like there’s some magic or code in someone’s DNA that makes them capable of amazing things.” Casmir thought of Rache, of what it had been like following him into that base and watching him singlehandedly mow down killer robots, astroshamans, and enhanced humans. Had all of that been due to his cybernetic enhancements? Or had some of it just been potential based on genes that had been fixed?

“I think you’ve spent the last ten years proving you’re capable of amazing things, Casmir,” Kim said dryly. “Don’t get hung up on the physical. I know what the pictures in the history texts show—today’s history texts—but it’s not like an admiral on a spaceship would have fought enemies hand to hand. He would have been crafty and smart—and probably very good at getting people to work well together.”

“Yeah.” Casmir tried to make his agreement heartfelt, but lately, he felt more like a screwup than anything special. Maybe if he could find the gate and do what he’d wanted from the start, figure out a way to ensure all of humanity could come together to study it… he would feel more adequate.

“And I’m skeptical that you were the reject.”

Casmir frowned at her.

“Oh, not that Jager rejected you, but it makes more sense that you’re the real deal and Rache is the altered copy. I don’t think we had gene cleaning back when Mikita lived. Our medical advancements lagged behind the regaining of spaceflight and some of the simpler sciences. Physics is the same across the universe, but biologically speaking, Odin isn’t Earth, despite being the closest match in the Twelve Systems, and some of the things that worked in the human body back on Earth had to be altered or changed altogether to work in this biome. I’ve often wished I could see Earth—and take my microscope there.” She thumped him on the back. “You should locate that gate and get it working, so humanity can find its way back to its origin system and see if anything is left alive back there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Casmir stepped back from the drawer, though the plaque with its simple letters was burned into his memory. He wasn’t sure he could imagine Mikita accomplishing all that he had accomplished if he’d had Casmir’s gene mutations, especially if medicine had been less advanced back then, but at least he now knew where he’d come from. And that he should probably be extra careful around King Jager, whose interest in him was now rekindled after thirty-three years.

He shelved the thought for later and forced a smile. “Thank you for the support. Silent and otherwise.”

“You’re welcome.”

THE END

Look for Book 4, Crossfire, in July.

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