“Almost? I will search for a protocol that will teach me how to recognize and anticipate better than an inferior canine.”
Casmir smiled. “Hopefully, when I get back home, I’ll get a chance to see my doctor and get my medication adjusted. Or maybe, once my brain returns to normal gravity, the medication I’m on will start working better.”
He turned on the cart, hoping he could drive it over to the manufacturing bay without trouble. Even without seizures fuddling with his senses, his strabismus made his depth perception weak. It was a foregone conclusion that he would lose his right to drive his air bike back home for a while, once Dr. Rothberger analyzed the data his chip had sent and marked on his record that he wasn’t currently in remission with his seizures. Kim got around without a vehicle, and Casmir knew he could, too, but it saddened him to lose some of his independence. Driving, he reminded himself, should be the least of his concerns revolving around going home. After seeing those videos of bombs being dropped in the capital, he worried about the kind of home he would find when he returned to Odin.
Casmir navigated the cart toward the large doorway between the bays, confident that he could gauge the width without trouble. Even so, he let out a sigh when the cart cleared the sides. With so few human workers about, he wasn’t worried about injuring anyone if he misjudged a doorway and knocked heavy metal bars off his cart, but he would prefer not to make a mess. Or be a mess.
When he reached the conveyor belts and robot arms of Area Number Three, a red warning light flashed, and a barrier rose up out of the floor, startling him. He reached for the brakes on the cart, but under the heavy load, it did not slow quickly. He tried to turn it to avoid the barrier, clearly some automatic protection for the equipment that deployed when it sensed something large approaching, but he misjudged the distance—or was simply too slow to react. A cacophonous scrape echoed through the bay as the cart struck it.
Metal dented, and paint chips flaked to the floor as Casmir wobbled for his balance. Zee gripped his shoulders to help keep him upright. Fortunately, the bars were heavy enough that they didn’t slide off.
The barrier retracted into the floor, dented and scraping loudly as it sank into its housing. Casmir clambered off the cart, wincing at the damage. It could have been worse, but he anticipated the sultan sending him a bill when he found out. Or requiring a second crusher as payment.
“The android approaches with nanite equipment,” Zee said, indifferent to the banged up side of the cart. “Soon I will have a mate.”
Casmir spread his hands, groping for his equilibrium—and to slow his hammering heart. “Yes, Zee. You will.”
“How long did it take you to make me?”
“I built you in one night, but you were a one-off made with a lot of hand tools and gumption. This is taking longer to set up, since we’re going to do a run of a hundred, but once the process gets going, it’ll be faster overall.”
Casmir turned to face the approaching android and struggled not to grimace. It wasn’t alone. Sultan Shayban strolled along at its side, a cup of tea in one hand and an unreadable expression on his face. Another big man, perhaps a bodyguard, walked behind him, but Casmir barely noticed him. Shayban had seen the crash. He couldn’t have missed it. Casmir, cheeks flaming with embarrassment, wanted to hide behind Zee.
“Good morning, sir.” Casmir smiled and hoped to convey good cheer, good cheer that would rub off, to Shayban. “Sorry about that mishap. I hadn’t noticed that retractable barrier there.”
“It’s fine.” Shayban waved dismissively, and Casmir relaxed a bit. “But maybe your crusher should drive. Can he?”
“I can do many things,” Zee said. “If I was not originally programmed with an ability, I can research and learn how to do it, but I am moderately flummoxed by canine seizure detection. The article I am reading says it is unknown how dogs detect seizures and alert their owners fifteen minutes to twelve hours prior to the event. It is speculated that the canines notice changes to human behavior or scent, but I cannot self-program based on speculation.”
Casmir rubbed his face as Shayban raised his eyebrows and asked, “Seizures?”
“Never mind, Your Highness. Yes, I will have Zee handle the driving if we need more metal.”
“Very good. I was hoping for a demonstration of his talents as a bodyguard. I have seen his talents as a couch, and I also saw the video from the detention center where he defeated six intruders. That was excellent. But can he come out ahead in a battle against a superior fighter? The crusher you will make me will be identical to him, yes?”
“Yes,” Casmir said. “I suppose it depends on how superior the fighter is—how cybernetically enhanced and well trained—but the original crushers, from which I borrowed heavily to create Zee, were designed to be great warriors and protect my planet.” Casmir hesitated to admit how much of a role he’d played in their design. He’d been so naive then, believing he was building protectors, as the military had told him, and not aggressors that would be unleashed on unsuspecting enemies of the Kingdom. He wondered if Jager’s incursions into other systems had resulted in the war that was now being fought in their home star system.
“What do you think, Tristan?” Shayban turned to the bodyguard, or what Casmir had assumed was a bodyguard, behind him.
The man wore combat armor, but Casmir now wondered if that was to test Zee rather than because threats were typical here on the station.
“I’m happy to test him for you, Your Highness. I don’t have my pertundo anymore, but we can punch and grapple.”
Tristan? Pertundo? Was this the man Asger had come to see? He did have a Kingdom accent and the brawny build of a warrior who kept himself fit.
Asger had sent a note the day before, letting Casmir know he was fine, that he’d located Tristan, and that he’d returned to the Dragon with Qin, but he hadn’t mentioned if he’d parted on amiable terms with the ex-knight.
Tristan bowed like a current knight, then stuck out a hand to Casmir. “It’s an honor to meet you in person, Professor. I’ve watched some of your lectures.”
“Oh? Which ones?” Casmir knew knights received schooling equivalent to a basic degree, but most of the courses he’d recorded and published on the public network were geared toward advanced university students.
“Linear algebra, calculus, kinematics, and a few others.”
“Really?” Casmir asked. “Were you planning a second career in engineering?”
“Not exactly. I needed my math scores to bring up my essay scores on the knight exam, so I tried to learn as much as I could.”
“Tristan is helping my daughter now with investments for the family,” Shayban explained. “We are fortunate to have him here. Your prince is an idiot for driving him out of the Kingdom’s service, but we shall not complain, not about him at least.”
Casmir smiled bleakly, worried that Jorg was also in the process of driving Kim out of the Kingdom’s service—or the Kingdom altogether. When Casmir had suggested that Rache kidnap her, he’d only been trying to be helpful, but what if she felt she couldn’t go home and ended up staying aboard the Fedallah? Flying into battle and being put at risk day after day on the mercenary ship? Casmir had barely spoken to Jorg, but he already disliked the prince.
“Zee, can you unload these for me, please?” Casmir waved at the bars and pointed to where they needed to go. “Before you test your combat prowess against a knight?”
“A former knight,” Tristan said quietly, sadness hooding his eyes even though he had won a position of status here.
“Am I to refrain from hurting him?” Zee again altered his arms into something akin to forklift prongs to lever piles of bars off the cart.
“I think so. Just defend yourself, please.”
Casmir took his new nanite equipment from the android and started to work as Tristan drew Zee into an open area. He wasn’t worried about Zee being able to sufficiently prove his worth, especially against someone without weapons. It would take explosives to blow Zee to
bits, and even then, he was good at sucking his bits back together and recovering. It was a little distracting working while crusher and knight were flinging themselves around nearby—at one point, Tristan sailed into a wall hard enough to dent it, and Casmir felt less bad about denting the cart. Shayban watched with avid appreciation as he sipped his tea.
Eventually, Casmir grew so absorbed in his programming work that he forgot about the fight and tuned out the clanks and thuds of combat. He didn’t know how much time had passed when Shayban tugged at his sleeve and drew his attention from the project.
“When you program my crusher,” Shayban said, “will it follow my orders and my orders only?”
“Is that what you wish?” Casmir would have assigned the sultan as the primary person to protect, but he’d been planning to give himself the ultimate power when it came to commanding the crushers he made. As strong as Zee was, Casmir worried about other crushers being used against him—or against innocent people—so he wanted the ability to reclaim them if need be. But there was no need to mention that to Shayban, was there? “Zee is programmed to protect and obey myself and Kim Sato. I could do the same for you with yours.”
“Very good. I would like my crusher to obey only me but to protect all the members of the royal family. I do not feel safe even in my own palace with Dubashi trying to steal my ships and stir up all manner of trouble.”
“That’s understandable. Did you ever find out for certain if that was why those people broke in?”
“It was. I don’t know why Dubashi feels the need to steal my ships when he has so many of his own, but I’m relieved he failed.” Shayban nodded at Casmir, and also Zee, as if to acknowledge their role. “Professor, after you create my crusher and the crushers that you’ll take with you to defeat Dubashi, will I be able to have more made?” Shayban waved at the manufacturing equipment, and his tone turned dry as he added, “I assume you will go back to the Kingdom with my millions of Union dollars’ worth of materials after you deal with Dubashi.”
“I need to go back and help stop the war, yes.” Casmir’s eye blinked as he debated a political way to say that he couldn’t allow what Shayban was asking. “I think the Kingdom would send assassins after me if I left the schematics with you. I signed a contract and a non-disclosure agreement, you see.”
No need to mention that it was sketchy that Casmir had used the schematics stored on his chip, information that shouldn’t have been stored, to make Zee. But since Jorg had ordered him to make more crushers, maybe that would be forgiven. He hoped.
“Oh? Did you work on the original development?”
“I led the team,” Casmir admitted. He’d been so proud of that once.
“You invented them?” Shayban watched as Tristan, who was either a glutton for punishment or enjoyed working out against a challenging opponent, sailed into a wall again. “You must be very good.”
“I had a whole team. It wasn’t only me. I just came up with the technology for integrating nanites into the molecular matrix of the alloy itself and creating a hive mind of a sort so that the brains are spread across the entire malleable structure.”
“So you basically came up with the whole thing.” Shayban smirked at him.
“I… had help.” Casmir had been trying not to take credit.
“We have some decent programmers and roboticists here. If you find that your work in the Kingdom isn’t as appreciated as it should be, I invite you to move here and head up a research and development lab.”
So he could make something similar to crushers but that wouldn’t violate the contracts he’d signed on Odin? Casmir made himself smile—better to have a job offer than be thrown back into a cell—but he could see the gears spinning in Shayban’s eyes. The sultan didn’t seem a bad sort, but he had an enemy in this system and was probably worried about galactic politics as a whole and protecting his mining empire.
“Thank you, Your Highness. That is tempting, but my family and community are back on Odin, and I teach at the university there and already have a position running a lab. It’s very fulfilling.” Or it had been. Would his job still be there by the time he finally made it home? Would King Jager allow him to return to it? Maybe Casmir should tell Shayban he would think about it, in case he had to leave System Lion.
The idea of leaving his family and never getting to ask Oku on that coffee date made the notion particularly glum.
“I’ll double your salary,” Shayban said. “And we’ve been contemplating for years starting up a university here to include robotics, manufacturing, and medical research facilities. We’ve been drilling deeper into the asteroid and expanding our station in anticipation of offering more hotels and housing for such. You could be on the board and have a say in the opening of the institution. I imagine you would find it quite freeing after living under the stifling rules of the Kingdom.”
“I… That’s very interesting, Your Highness. I will think about your offer.”
“Good. And if you succeed in bringing me Dubashi tied up and slung over your crusher’s shoulder, I’ll make it quadruple your pay in the Kingdom.” Shayban thumped him on the shoulder. “I do believe in rewarding talented people and enticing them to stay.”
“A good philosophy,” Casmir murmured.
So this was what it was like to leave academia and work in the civilian sector. He could see why so many good people were tempted. But the thought of abandoning the Kingdom bothered him for more reasons than his family. If all the good people left, what would remain? The Kingdom needed to be fixed, not left to fall into greater disrepair.
Bonita woke up in her cabin to a soft chime.
“You have a message, Bonita,” Viggo said over the speaker.
“Important enough to wake me from my rejuvenating sleep?”
She wished her sleep were rejuvenating. Usually, it was sporadic and interrupted by hours of staring at the ceiling. One thing she missed about being younger was how much better her sleep had been back then. At least her knees no longer woke her up with stabbing pain when she shifted her legs the wrong way under the covers.
“You were grinding your teeth and clenching your fingers in your pillow. It didn’t look that rejuvenating.”
“Have I mentioned how wonderful it is that you spy on me in my sleep?”
Bonita pushed her covers back and checked the time. It had been three days since Casmir and Kim had left to do whatever it was they were doing on the station. The Dragon’s cargo had all been picked up, Bonita had been paid, had paid Qin in turn, and she was still trying to line up a new cargo. So far, she’d only found jobs that would require her to fly halfway across the system for the initial pickup. That was a waste of fuel. She would much rather grab something close.
In truth, she kept expecting Asger, Kim, or Casmir to ask her for a ride. Maybe that was why she’d been half-hearted in her search for a new cargo. A part of her knew that she should get on with her life and have nothing more to do with those Kingdom troublemakers, but a part of her had come to find the ship quiet and empty when they weren’t around.
“I don’t think it can be considered spying,” Viggo said, “when you are sleeping in a cabin that is within my small but not inconsequential dominion. I keep track of everything that happens on board this ship.”
“Who sent the message?” Since it was morning station-time, Bonita grabbed her boots. She might as well get up.
“Your strong, sexy bear.”
“Bjarke? I didn’t know you were attracted to him.”
“I’m not, but I’ve observed that your heart speeds up when he talks to you.”
“Dominion my ass. You’re definitely spying on me.”
“I have few hobbies. Don’t deny me the joy of prying into your personal life.”
“You’re strange, Viggo.”
Bonita headed for navigation, expecting to find a recorded message, but Bjarke was live and on hold.
She smoothed her hair and checked herself in a mirror to make sure there were
n’t massive dark bags under her eyes, then snorted at her vanity and answered.
“My lovely Captain Laser.” Bjarke appeared far perkier than she, though a couple days’ worth of beard growth scruffed his chin, and his hair was tousled, as if he’d been pushing his hands through it again and again. “Were you sleeping? Or perhaps being held captive by enemies? I cannot otherwise understand why you would delay so in answering me.”
It seemed he was back to lighthearted flirting with her instead of requesting that she collect Kim for him—and being irked when she said no.
“I was sleeping, in fact. I’m sure Viggo could send you videos.”
“I don’t record you,” Viggo murmured.
“Viggo?” Bjarke asked. “Ah, yes your sentient ship.”
“Sort of. He used to be the owner of the ship, but when his death was imminent, he had his consciousness uploaded into the Dragon.”
“So… essentially, he’s a man.”
“I am quite male,” Viggo said. “When I had a body, it was virile and attractive.”
“I’m fairly certain it was scrawny, and he got beaten up frequently,” Bonita said.
“Lies,” Viggo said.
Bjarke scratched his jaw. “I was trying to figure out if I should threaten to beat him up for peeping at you in your sleep, but I don’t know how that would work.”
“You could kick one of the bulkheads next time you visit,” Bonita said.
“He can try,” Viggo said. “I have deadly weapons at my disposal.”
“A cadre of robot vacuums?” she asked.
“I was thinking of the railgun.”
“He would have to be outside for that to be effective.”
“He has to be outside before he can come inside.”
Bjarke cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Bonita, I did comm for a reason, not to hear you snipe at your ship.”
“I still don’t know where Kim Sato is if that’s what you’re going to ask.” Bonita wouldn’t mention that she’d warned both Asger and Kim that Bjarke was coming to get her. “She hasn’t been back to my ship.”
Planet Killer (Star Kingdom Book 6) Page 21