Home Front: A Space Opera Adventure (Star Kingdom Book 7), page 3
“King Jager himself.”
Kim couldn’t keep from glancing in surprise at him. “The wormhole gate isn’t working. Such a message couldn’t have gotten through.”
“It came through before the gate stopped operating. You’ve been a suspect since you disappeared from the Osprey weeks ago. Ambassador Romano, Prince Jorg, and I have been discussing your situation since we captured you.”
Captured. Was that truly what had happened? She’d thought she and Casmir—and Asger and Bjarke—were being given a ride because the Dragon had been inoperable and the shuttle they’d borrowed from Rache hadn’t had long-range capacity. Ishii had been friendly enough with her, and he hadn’t even yelled at Casmir. Had she been foolish in believing he’d been helping them?
“What do you want, Lieutenant?”
“To question you. I might have settled for doing it without drugs, since I’ve been trained to read people, but after spending ten minutes with you, I can see that you’re good at hiding your thoughts. I believe I’ll use eslevoamytal after all.”
Kim stood and faced him. He didn’t back away. She didn’t like how close they were, but with the stool behind her, she couldn’t gracefully put more space between them.
“Lieutenant,” she said, struggling not to give away how afraid she was that she would babble condemning evidence under that drug, “my family is on Odin. My father and brothers. My work is on Odin. Colleagues that I care about. You have in me someone willing to work very hard to ensure that Dubashi’s virus isn’t unleashed on Odin, and someone with the knowledge to deal with it when we find him. Very few people in this system who are qualified to work with such deadly viruses will do a damn thing to assist with what is, in their eyes, the Kingdom’s problem.”
She didn’t know that was true, but it sounded plausible. It wasn’t as if Jorg had made friends here.
“I will not stop you from working on a cure, if that’s truly what you’re doing.” Meister glanced at the display.
“How generous of you. But what I meant to imply is that I will not do this work for you if you treat me like a criminal and ignore my rights.”
“You just said your family is there. You’ll do the work even if we question you.”
“Will I?” Kim lifted her chin, hoping she was better at bluffing than she believed. She kept from wiping her damp palms on the legs of her galaxy suit—barely. The garment should have adjusted its temperature to keep her from sweating, but this was cold fear-sweat.
Meister squinted into her eyes. As uncomfortable as it was, she made herself stare back into his. Nothing in them was elucidating. He might think she was hard to read, but she was abysmal at reading other people too.
The door opened, and she jumped.
“He said to knock, Professor,” Grunburg’s voice floated in from the corridor.
“Did he?” Casmir stood in view. “You don’t usually have to knock at a coffee shop. Kim promised me a hot chocolate.”
“In that case, maybe he won’t mind.”
“Good.” Casmir ambled in, smiling broadly at Kim and Meister while ignoring the tension hanging in the air. “Hi, guys. What’s going on? Lieutenant, mind if I help myself?” He waved at the espresso machine.
“Your interview isn’t until after Scholar Sato’s,” Meister said.
“No? Why don’t you just do us both at the same time?” Casmir waved Kim to the side and sat on the stool, placing himself between the two of them. He wasn’t even remotely an intimidating or inhibiting presence, but then Zee strode in, his bulk making the lab feel claustrophobic. “It’ll save time,” Casmir added. “Back home, we’re roommates, you know. We tell each other everything. We don’t have any secrets.”
“Maybe you’re the one I should drug.” Meister grabbed his tablet off the counter and stepped back, glancing warily at Zee.
“With what? Most drugs give me seizures. Or put me into anaphylactic shock. Cashews and pomegranates also do that. You wouldn’t want to be me, Lieutenant. Going through life in my shoes means constantly dodging bullets.”
“Cashew bullets?” Kim asked, hoping Casmir’s blatant attempt to diffuse the tension—and sidetrack Meister’s train of thought—would work.
“Just so. Fortunately, I’ve got Zee now.” Casmir waved at the crusher, giving him the warmest and most authentic smile a killing machine had ever gotten. “He steps in front of a lot of bullets meant for me.”
“It is my duty to protect Kim Sato and Casmir Dabrowski from all threats,” Zee said in his typical monotone. “Including bullets, energy bolts, and highly allergenic food projectiles.”
“And he’d naturally step in if someone wanted to drug me. Or drug one of my friends.” Casmir’s voice didn’t do cold and menacing, not the way Rache’s did, but he did lose his usual affability as he gave Meister a pointed look.
He must have stopped to chat with Grunburg and get the gist of what was going on.
“I would do this,” Zee agreed.
Meister glanced at him again, then squinted at Kim. “We’ll continue this later. After I discuss with Dr. Sikou if you’re as integral to solving this virus problem as you’re telling me you are.”
Meister stalked toward the door, the gesture less imperious than he surely intended, since Zee didn’t step aside for him. Why he’d thought Zee would, Kim didn’t know, but he stopped short just before crashing into him. Swearing under his breath, Meister went around and strode out.
“Dr. Sikou should vouch for me,” Kim said quietly. “My expertise anyway. I’m not sure she’ll agree that I’d withhold my help simply because they drugged me.”
About Rache? Casmir asked, switching to chip-to-chip contact. The lab—the entire ship—was probably monitored.
Yes. They’re suspicious of that supposed kidnapping. Kim sighed. And I’m afraid I’ll admit to how I feel about him and that’ll be enough to condemn me to a firing squad.
I’m sorry. That kidnapping was my idea. Casmir grimaced. Come to think of it, I’m the one who suggested you flee the Osprey instead of going to work for Jorg.
You are. Later, when Zee isn’t around, I’m going to pelt you with pomegranate seeds.
Casmir didn’t smile. His face was contorted with grief and regret.
It’s not your fault, Casmir. I chose to go along with your ideas. And if I hadn’t, I would have ended up in Jorg’s brig weeks ago. And probably questioned weeks ago. I couldn’t have made that man a bioweapon. She hoped Jorg didn’t still have it in his head that she should.
How did we both end up as criminals in the eyes of our people, Kim?
I don’t know, she replied, though she could have made a bullet list of all the things they’d done to irk the king and the Fleet. We should be heroes after risking our asses to stop Dubashi. Or at least pardoned of any crimes.
I wish we’d actually caught him. Then our heroness would be less up for debate. Is that a word?
It’s not.
No wonder we’re in trouble.
Grunburg knocked on his way in. “Professor?”
Ugh, what now? Casmir messaged Kim, but he forced a smile for his former student. “Whatcha need, Davy?”
“Remember that virus we worked on?” Grunburg glanced at Kim’s display. “The computer one that knocked out the ship, not a human one.”
“I remember it well. So do the pirates we used it on in System Hydra. Or they would if any had survived.” Casmir’s face was grim at the memory of how he’d inadvertently caused all those deaths.
“Ah.” Grunburg hesitated, not appearing certain how to respond. “Better pirates than our people.”
Casmir’s hand wave connoted helplessness rather than agreement.
“While all this other stuff has been going on—” Grunburg gestured vaguely toward the ship, or maybe the entire star system, “—my department has been working on finding a way to nullify it in case it’s ever used on us again. We believe we’ve now got a subroutine in our anti-virus software that accomplishes that.”
Casmir nodded, though it wasn’t apparent, at least to Kim, what Grunburg was getting at. She’d assumed Intelligence also wanted to question Casmir about Rache.
“We’ve also been trying to figure out how to deploy the virus ourselves, as a weapon to deal with enemies such as those blockading System Lion’s gate, but we’re missing something.” Grunburg frowned. “We tried to use it against Dubashi’s base, but they wouldn’t accept a file from us. The mercenaries weren’t as bright—we tricked some into taking it. But nothing happened. Unless everybody in the Twelve Systems now has a defense for it, we’re missing something.”
“I doubt the mercenaries have a defense,” Casmir said. “Dubashi probably would have, even if one of his minions had been fooled into accepting it. He’s an astroshaman himself.”
“Yeah, Meister dug that up. But will you work with us on this, Professor? Right now, Intel hasn’t been able to locate Dubashi’s ship, but I heard Sultan Shayban might give us his slydar detector.”
Casmir snorted. Kim didn’t know the story there, but she doubted Shayban would give the Kingdom anything more helpful than a case of space shingles.
“Once we can locate Dubashi’s ship,” Grunburg went on, “we can go after it and unleash the virus. Maybe it won’t work, but if it does, we could blow up his powerless ship—and destroy the virus-laden rockets he has—and maybe put an end to the war at home before we even arrive.” He raised his eyebrows, looking hopeful. And naive.
“Didn’t you just say Dubashi would have a counter to the computer virus?” Kim asked Casmir.
“I don’t know that he has one. I just wouldn’t be surprised if he had prior knowledge of it and is prepared.” Casmir tilted his head. “But that doesn’t mean all the ships he sent to System Lion would be prepared. It’s worth getting it ready so you guys can try to send it when we get there.” Casmir nodded to Grunburg.
“Oh, good. Come this way, Professor. I’ll show you our computer lab and introduce you to the rest of my team.” Grunburg smiled, as if they were on their way to camp and would have a delightful time making fires and toasting marshmallows. Or, more likely, programming robots and computers.
Why can’t you make friends with our world leaders as easily as you make them with random enemies and the common man? Kim messaged as Casmir left the lab, Zee trailing dutifully behind him.
I don’t think Grunburg is representative of the common man.
That’s true. You make friends with geeks and nerds.
Precisely. The problem is that those aren’t the people who rule the Kingdom.
Kim sighed, wondering if there was any way she could avoid Meister’s drug needle for the rest of the trip. Maybe that is the problem.
Sweat bathed Asger’s face as he and his father broke apart. They’d been sparring for over an hour. The low gravity on the Osprey made it less onerous than it would have been on Odin, but they were both breathless.
Asger had been ready to stop twenty minutes ago, but he hadn’t wanted to be the one to suggest quitting first. He was relieved that sweat also bathed his father’s face and dampened his short gray beard.
“Towel?” Asger stepped off the mat to grab two.
His father grunted. He hadn’t spoken much during their match, and Asger had gotten in a few blows that suggested he was preoccupied.
Thinking about Bonita? Asger wasn’t sure how close they were, but he’d seen them flirt—if throwing insults at each other could be called flirting.
Asger himself was worried about Qin and frustrated that the person who held her wasn’t a person he could attack. How the hell were they supposed to get Qin and Bonita off Jorg’s ship?
He tossed a towel to his father. They’d exercised together each of the three days since leaving Dubashi’s moon base, where they’d formed an unspoken truce. Asger wasn’t sure what had happened, but during that incursion, his father had opened up to him for the first time that he could remember.
It was good not to be arguing with him or stomping around in anger, but their new bond was hard to appreciate when Asger was worried about Qin. There had been a time—a long time—when he never would have believed a friend could be in danger from the Kingdom or any officer in the Fleet, but that time had come to an end. He’d seen the video Jorg had sent to Casmir—to ensure his compliance—of bruised and battered Qin in the brig of the Chivalrous. Jorg didn’t deserve to command a ship with that name. Or any ship at all.
“I’ve heard the Osprey is going to Stardust Palace.” His father wiped his face with the towel. “The sultan has agreed not to fire on us, but he doesn’t yet know we have orders to take his slydar detector.”
“We do?” Asger hadn’t officially been kicked out of the knighthood yet—he’d been hoping vainly that helping to defeat Dubashi and thwart his plans might ultimately put him back in better standing—but he wasn’t in the loop. This was a reminder of that.
“Dabrowski has those orders, specifically, but Captain Ishii already told me the Osprey is going in to back him. Jorg and the Chivalrous are heading elsewhere.” He clenched his jaw. “To gather more allies. Or take more prisoners. Who knows?”
Asger switched to the privacy of messaging via his chip to ask, Are you thinking about trying to do something about Jorg’s prisoners?
I’m thinking about it, yes. If I want to rescue them, it would have to be soon. His father closed his eyes, his face pained. It would mean the end of my career, maybe the end of my citizenship in the Kingdom and the loss of our family land, but I don’t trust that Jorg won’t kill them. His jaw tightened again. They’re not Kingdom citizens. What are they to him?
I’ll go with you if we can figure out a way to get invited to his ship.
His father shook his head. I’ll go alone. Better to lose one career than two.
My career is already at its end. And it’s not like I wouldn’t be suspect even if you acted alone.
His father grimaced but didn’t deny it.
Once, his father never would have questioned the crown. But times had changed. Asger was a little glad that his father understood now, but he never would have chosen these circumstances as a way to make that happen.
The gym door opened. Asger wouldn’t have thought anything of it, since crewmen in exercise togs had been in and out, but Ishii strode toward them in uniform, a lieutenant with Intel tabs on his collars walking at his side.
“Are we in trouble?” Asger muttered, wondering if Intel was monitoring their chip communications somehow.
If so, they’d reacted to that conversation quickly.
Asger’s father draped the towel over his shoulder, folded his muscular arms over his chest, and lifted his chin as the officers approached.
Asger, deciding to appear formidable and unconcerned, as befitting a knight, adopted a similar pose. It probably wasn’t the time for it, but he noticed as they stood side by side that his arms were more muscular. His father was still as fit as any knight, but he’d either lost some of his mass as he approached sixty, or he wasn’t as large as he’d always been in Asger’s mind. Memories etched in boyhood were hard to alter, after all.
“Sir Asger, Sir Asger.” Ishii nodded at both of them. “Lieutenant Meister has a few questions for Bjarke.”
“Does that mean I’m not the one in trouble for once?” Asger smiled, though nerves pounced in his stomach.
“Neither of you is in trouble with me,” Ishii said. “How Prince Jorg and your knightly superiors feel about you is up for debate.”
“Our knightly superiors are all on the other side of two blocked wormholes,” Asger’s father said. “We’re the only representatives of the Order in this system.”
That was true, since Tristan—formerly Sir Tristan Tremayne—had been kicked out of the knighthood. Asger didn’t bring him up. He had remained on the Stellar Dragon during repairs, and Asger didn’t know if Ishii or Intelligence even knew about him.
“Since I’m a loyal officer of the crown,” Ishii said, “I won’t say that I wish the prince was.”
Meister frowned at his captain, then led Asger’s father away.
Asger caught the name Druckers as the lieutenant started to speak. That wasn’t what he’d expected the questioning to involve.
“What’s that about?” Asger asked Ishii.
“There’s a big queue of ships waiting at the gate while scientists and engineers from a few of the system’s governments attempt to figure out what’s wrong,” Ishii said. “Among the waiting craft are two of the five Drucker pirate warships. Since your father worked for them for a year, Meister is asking him about them.”
“Do we care about the Druckers? They’re pirates, not mercenaries. It’s not like Jorg could hire them to help us, even if he would consider lowering himself to speak with them.”
“We care only if they become a threat to the Kingdom because somebody else hires them.”
“Is that likely to happen?” Asger asked.
“Probably not. We’re just keeping an eye on them for now. Once we complete our mission at Stardust Palace, we’re going to have to join that queue for the gate, along with those pirates and a lot of the mercenaries that Dubashi almost hired to attack us.”
“Ah. It could get tense.”
“Yes. I want to wish that the gate is repaired before we’re ready to go through it, but if we can leave, Dubashi can leave.”
Lieutenant Meister returned to Ishii’s side. “I’m done, sir.”
Ishii nodded to Asger and his father, and the officers left.
“Did you have anything useful for him?” Asger asked his father.
“Not really. I promised to send all the technical details I can for the two Drucker ships. I spent a few months on the Jian, so that one is easy, and I have some specs on the Scimitar.” His father looked thoughtfully toward one of the view ports.
“Fondly reminiscing about your time there?”
“Hardly that. I was thinking of… what we discussed earlier.” His father switched back to chip-to-chip messaging to admit, I’m worried about Bonita. And her first mate.
