Planet Killer (Star Kingdom Book 6)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Whatever you like.” She smiled and turned up her treadmill to max, which was faster than he would have guessed possible. Maybe someone already had put in a custom program.

  Asger went along with it, glad for the excuse to push himself. Lately, his muscles had been so tense that it had been all he could do to keep from lashing out at his father when they passed in the corridors.

  As he warmed up and sweat began to flow, the vacuum that had been staring at Asger whirred around his treadmill. It took him a moment to realize it was mopping up his sweat instead of sucking up lint and dirt. Versatile thing.

  During a supposed rest period—Qin slowed down to eight miles per hour—Asger sneaked a few glances at her. She wasn’t sweating as much as he was, but there was a sheen to her pink cheeks, and her hair—and the fur on the back of her neck—was damp.

  Somewhere along the way, he’d started to find that fur, and all the rest of her, exotic and intriguing instead of a demonstration of the horrors of genetic engineering and why it was outlawed in the Kingdom. It didn’t hurt that she kept fighting at his side and standing up for him to his father. She was a good friend. More than that, he admitted. Lately, his thoughts had been prone to imagining things they could do alone together besides running.

  But if he truly wanted that, he had to tell her. Did he?

  He’d been trying to put distance between them since that kiss, because there were so many reasons why it would be difficult for them to have a future together—he couldn’t imagine it unless he gave up his career and his home and everything that came with it, including all of his responsibilities as his father’s heir. But to lead her on for a fling wasn’t fair, to pretend they could be something and then later say he had to return to a world that had no place for her in it. She didn’t deserve that. But she didn’t deserve getting the cold shoulder now either. She deserved… He snorted. Probably someone who would treat her better than he could.

  Qin glanced over. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Just thinking about how amazing you are.”

  Her eyebrows flew up, and an ear swiveled toward him. “What? Why? Because I can run faster than you?”

  “I don’t think we’ve definitively proven that yet, but that’s only one of the reasons. You’re very, uhm, nice.” Asger waved at her, intending to imply that all of her was great, but she looked down at her boobs, and he realized he might only be suggesting she had nice lady bits. “Pretty, I mean, but also a good person. Loyal and kind and… nice.”

  Dear God, Casmir was probably better than this at flirting with women.

  “Thank you.” She faced forward and ran for a while before adding, “I thought maybe you thought it was a mistake that you—we—kissed.”

  “No. I mean, maybe it was, but I liked it.”

  Her next glance was a little wary, but she said, “I liked it too.” She offered a quick grin. “You’re sexy.”

  Heat flushed his face—and other parts. And here he’d thought he was as warm as he could be after all that running.

  “Thank you. I don’t regret kissing you, and I’d like to do a lot more with you, if I’m honest about it, but I’ve been worrying… Well, you saw what it was like for you on Odin. I couldn’t imagine you living there, and I couldn’t imagine me not living there, assuming I don’t get kicked out of the knighthood and my father doesn’t disown me.” He grimaced, not wanting to let his mind wander down that path again. “I didn’t want to, er, have sex with you and then leave when the war is over and I can go home. I didn’t want you to think I was like those pirates and just wanted to see what it was like because you’re, uhm, different.”

  He was botching this. Maybe he should pull out some alcohol after all.

  “You’re nothing like them, Asger. You actually kissed me. They usually went straight to shoving things in.”

  He curled a lip. “Gross.”

  “I thought so. And I know you care. I just wasn’t sure if… Well, if you want to have sex or kiss more or whatever normal things men and women do, I would enjoy that. I never expected…” She slowed her treadmill down to a walk. “I guess I’ve read a lot of those fairy tales and sometimes have unrealistic thoughts, but I would never expect you to want to get married to a—to me and make me Lady Whatsit in your castle.”

  Asger was encouraged to hear that, especially the part about wanting to have sex, but it did make him sad that he couldn’t give her the fairy tale.

  “I’m assuming you have a castle,” she added.

  “Three stories, six towers, a moat, and almost twenty thousand square feet of living space. Though technically, it’s my father’s castle, and I just have rooms there.”

  “Are there a lot of trees?” she asked wistfully.

  “There’s a whole forest out back. Some of it was logged centuries ago, but the trees have all grown back, and wood isn’t used much for building anymore, so they’re probably safe.”

  “A forest. It sounds dreamy.”

  He grinned, amused that she was more interested in the trees than the towers. “I’ll show it to you someday, all right? If we all end up back on Odin again.”

  “I’d like that.” Qin turned up the speed on her treadmill again. “We better finish up our workout.”

  “Oh, were we not done?” He’d been hoping they could move on to other things now that she’d admitted she wanted to.

  “No.” She grinned, a little wickedly this time, and leaned over to increase the speed on his treadmill.

  After eight sprints and eight rest periods that were too fast to be considered even vaguely restful, Viggo cleared his throat.

  “Bonita has received a comm.”

  Asger slowed down. “For me?”

  He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face and off his chin, and he didn’t care that his voice sounded hopeful.

  A faint spritzing sound drifted up, along with the scents of lemon and vinegar. Was that vacuum using air freshener? Or maybe that was some sanitary fluid for the deck. Viggo did care about his cleanliness, didn’t he?

  “Sort of,” Viggo said. “Bonita told me to tell one of the Asgers to, ah, get up here and deal with it. Your father is sleeping in his cabin, so I chose you. Also, you looked like you were about to collapse.”

  “Depending on who the comm is from, that could still happen.” Asger grimaced and removed the waist strap.

  “Do you want me to come along?” Qin asked.

  “It’s the Kingdom,” Viggo said.

  “Never mind,” Qin said.

  Asger patted her arm and headed up to navigation, though he had a feeling he would regret it. Whoever it was would want to know why he was haring off on an unassigned mission. Or was he? Had his father gotten permission for this trip? If he was supposed to find Kim, and they were chasing her, maybe he didn’t need permission.

  “Here’s one of them,” Bonita said, waving Asger in.

  He didn’t recognize the crisp, clean-shaven officer on the forward display, but the man wore captain’s rank on his Fleet uniform. When Asger glanced at the identification of the ship comming them, dread waltzed into his stomach. It was the Chivalrous, Prince Jorg’s ship. He should have woken up his father to deal with this.

  “I’m Sir William Asger.” He wished he were in his knight’s armor and not sweaty exercise togs.

  “Hold, please.” The captain looked to the side.

  Prince Jorg himself replaced the officer in the display. Asger gaped—he hadn’t expected the prince would address him directly—then remembered to bow deeply.

  He started to introduce himself, but Jorg spoke first.

  “What are you doing on that freighter, Sir Asger?”

  “Assisting my father, Sir Bjarke Asger. He was sent to Stardust Palace to retrieve Scholar Sato and…”

  And what? Asger didn’t want to get Kim in trouble by reporting that she’d fled with Rache. Oh, but wait. Was that the plan? Casmir and Kim had told him so little.

  “…she wasn’t there when
he went to look for her,” he finished to be safe.

  And it was mostly true.

  “She wasn’t there? Did she not transfer to the very freighter you’re on and go to the station? Do you have her there now?”

  “No. We’re chasing the ship that we believe has her.”

  “And what ship is that? The sultan wouldn’t tell me anything that’s been going on there.” Jorg’s eyebrows drew down. “I’m half-tempted to return to his station and show him what happens to those who defy the Kingdom.”

  If Jorg’s orders had truly been to gather allies and bring more ships back to System Lion to fight off the invaders… he had a strange way of asking people for help.

  “Tenebris Rache has her, Your Highness,” Asger’s father said, stepping into navigation, frowning at him, and then bowing to the prince. His hair was tousled from sleep, but he wore a galaxy suit with his knight’s purple cloak—far more appropriate attire for speaking to royalty. Had Viggo warned him?

  “Oh, good,” Bonita muttered. “All of my favorite people are crammed into navigation with me.”

  Asger’s father quirked his eyebrows at her, but focused on Jorg when he raged, “Rache!”

  “I’m not clear on what exactly happened, Your Highness—” his father glanced at Bonita again, his expression wry this time, “—but it appears he knew I was coming and kidnapped her himself.”

  “Are you able to track his ship? I heard there’s a way now, but we haven’t been able to get anyone to sell us this technology.” Jorg’s eyes flared with indignation.

  “No,” Asger’s father said, “but we believe he’s going to Prince Dubashi’s moon base for a meeting.”

  “A meeting? You mean the gathering of an invasion force. We’ve seen all those lowlife mercenary ships flying there, and we plan to do something about it while they’re all in one place.”

  Asger kept his face neutral, but he frowned inwardly. What if the prince meant to take all of his forces and attack the base while Casmir was trying to fulfill his promise to the sultan? A promise Jorg would know nothing about. Should Asger tell him? He glanced uncertainly at his father.

  “You’ll take control of that freighter you’re on and fly over to join us,” Jorg said.

  “Uh.” Bonita, still in the pilot’s pod, lifted a finger. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “We’ll need all the forces we can muster to go against so many. My hope is that the mercenaries won’t show any loyalty or be willing to take on much risk. I’m sending coordinates for a rendezvous point.”

  “What about Sato, Your Highness?” Asger’s father asked. “We can’t let her end up working for Rache. Or Dubashi—if he’s taking her to him.”

  “Leave her for now. This is more important. I expect to see both of you at the rendezvous point.”

  The comm went dark.

  Bonita folded her arms over her chest and glared at them—no, at Asger’s father. “‘Take control of that freighter?’ Does your idiot prince know I’m not a Kingdom subject, that this freighter isn’t registered in the Kingdom, that he has no right to touch it, and that I think he’s a steaming pile of dog shit?”

  Asger shook his head. He wouldn’t try to take over Bonita’s ship—his stomach curdled at the thought of fighting Qin for control, or for anything. He fought with Qin, not against her. But what if his father decided he had to obey orders? Had to try to take the Dragon?

  His father clasped his hands behind his back and gazed thoughtfully at the display, distant stars glittering where Jorg’s face had been. “I need to consider this.”

  “Yes, consider how you’re not going to take control of my ship.”

  “I’ve paid for passage,” he remarked calmly.

  “Not to rendezvous with some war party that’s going on a suicide mission. And certainly not to join them.”

  Asger grimaced. It had sounded like Jorg wanted to add the Dragon to his little fleet. And use it for cannon fodder against the mercenary ships? It wasn’t as if the freighter’s single railgun made it formidable in battle. Besides, Bonita and Qin had nothing to do with this war and shouldn’t be asked to sacrifice themselves for the Kingdom.

  “Neither of you is Casmir,” Bonita added. “Even if you locked me up and somehow bested Qin and threw her in the cell with me, you’d have to hack Viggo to get the ship to go anywhere.”

  “Not a simple matter, I assure you,” Viggo said. “My computers have recently been upgraded and have numerous sophisticated encryption security measures. Also, I can electrocute you with surges from my outlets.”

  Asger thought of the vacuum mopping up sweat in the lounge, but he didn’t remark on whether it connoted sophistication. Bonita was far too tense to laugh.

  “We can join Jorg’s fleet, as ordered,” Asger’s father said, glancing at him, “or we can continue to the moon base, which may soon be attacked by Jorg’s fleet. Neither destination would be safe. But it would be better for my career and my duty if I obeyed Jorg.” He gazed at Bonita. “Is there a price at which you would take me to him?”

  “No. I’m about five seconds from returning your money and shooting you out the airlock for associating with questionable people.”

  “Do continue on course then, Captain,” Asger’s father said. “But I must insist that you wait until we reach Dubashi’s base to shoot me out the airlock, per our deal.” He bowed to her and walked out, hands still clasped behind his back, his purple robe swishing against the hatch jamb.

  “I don’t know what to make of that man.” Bonita looked at Asger. “Do I have to worry about him stunning me and Qin in our sleep and trying to take the ship by force?”

  “I… would like to think not.” Asger couldn’t imagine his father doing that to Bonita, no matter how much of an ass he could be at times, but he also had a hard time envisioning him not doing everything in his power to obey a royal order.

  “Your certainty is comforting.”

  “Sorry.”

  She shook her head and walked out, leaving the flying to Viggo. Asger worried about the ramifications of not doing what Jorg asked, and he also worried about what would happen to Casmir and Kim if they were on that base when Jorg’s fleet attacked.

  23

  Yas hurried into the shuttle bay, worry tightening his hand around his medical kit. It was the night shift, and he’d been asleep for an hour when the comm had bleated in his cabin.

  “In here, Doc.” One of Jess’s engineering officers waved from the hatchway of a shuttle.

  Yas ran over, his slippers not making a sound on the deck. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I left to get us both some coffee. I came back, and the chief was passed out on the deck inside.”

  Yas hustled inside and down the aisle, afraid Jess had blacked out from extreme pain or some complication of those painkillers she took. What if she’d sneaked down here to consume some and had overdosed by accident? Or not by accident?

  Jess lay crumpled on her side in the back, her face pressed against the black matting, half of her dark hair fallen out of a bun and covering her cheeks.

  He knelt down and touched her shoulder, checking for responsiveness, even as he dug into his kit. She did not groan or move in the slightest. He rested his fingers on her throat, relieved to find her pulse steady. Relieved, but puzzled, since he would have expected it to be slower than typical if she’d passed out from an overdose of a painkiller.

  Once he had his medical scanner out, he let it more accurately check her vital signs. His own fingers had a tremble to them and couldn’t be trusted. He’d never had that with patients he’d operated on in the emergency room, but he hadn’t known them. Hadn’t cared about them…

  He brushed her soft hair back from her face, telling himself it was only so he would see when she woke up, but his fingers encountered a surprising lump. “What the—”

  Yas pushed her hair back and scowled at a swelling bruise. “She didn’t overdose; she clubbed herself in the head.”

&nb
sp; The engineer was in navigation reporting to someone on the bridge, so he didn’t hear the revelation.

  Yas searched around, wondering what Jess could have struck so hard that it knocked her out. Then he stared in realization at an open locker door in the back—a locker large enough that someone could have been hidden in it.

  He lurched to his feet. “Lieutenant? Tell the captain I think we have an intruder.”

  Yas bent and lifted his patient in his arms. Rache could deal with the intruder while he took Jess to sickbay for better treatment.

  But he glanced around warily as he left, wondering why she’d been attacked in here. This was the falsely painted and unregistered shuttle that Rache had taken over to Stardust Palace to pick up Casmir and Kim, the one that had been damaged as it fled the station. It made sense that Jess would have been down here repairing it. But who could have been hiding in here, and why? And why had the person chosen that moment to leap out?

  “Nobody keeps the ship’s doctor in the loop,” he grumbled, carrying her out.

  Kim sat in a chair in Rache’s cabin, reading the first couple of chapters of a weathered hardback she’d pulled from a shelf in his case. A Brief Biography and an Analysis of the Tactics and Strategies of Admiral Tarik Mikita.

  She’d chosen it from his mixed collection of nonfiction war histories and dark and depressing classic novels from Old Earth and the Twelve Systems. She had skipped past the military stuff and was reading the biography in the back, not because she wouldn’t find it interesting to learn exactly what kinds of tactics the admiral had employed but because the biography was short enough that she could finish it that night. She was aware of the Fedallah hurtling through space toward their dubious destiny and what might be limited time for reading.

  “Are you comfortable enough?” Rache asked. He was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall, and drawing in a sketch pad. His mask lay on the sleep sack next to him—she hadn’t even had to ask him to remove it this time. “We can switch if you want.”

  “It’s fine. An upgrade to the metal stool in my cabin. There’s a backrest.”