Hero Code

by Lindsay Buroker

  “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 ta
king 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.