Hero Code

by Lindsay Buroker

  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 w
ith 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.