Hero Code

by Lindsay Buroker

  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 ther
e 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.