Planet Killer (Star Kingdom Book 6)

by Lindsay Buroker

  She lifted her hand to touch his face through his mask and was about to ask if she could push it up, but he must have sensed that was what she wanted, because he did so, but he seemed a little puzzled. Because he couldn’t read her intent? Or because he could and thought it was the wrong time?

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not very experienced at this.”

  “Thanking people?”

  “No.”

  She leaned forward slowly and saw the understanding in his eyes a moment before she kissed him. She feared it was a horrible kiss, because all she could think about was that she wanted him to like it and not regret that she was so complicated, so much work. What sane man would want a relationship with a woman who was so inept—incapable?—of returning affection?

  He lifted a hand to the side of her face, then stroked it through her hair, fingers brushing deep enough to tease her scalp. That felt a lot better than the tongue contact. It was even relaxing, and she stopped worrying so much about doing the right thing with her mouth. She found herself tempted to touch his head and slide her fingers through the soft coolness of his hair.

  Someone rapped on the hatch.

  She flinched away, like she’d been caught doing something inappropriate. He was much slower pulling his hand away, and he brushed her cheek with his knuckles before pulling down his mask, donning his helmet, and grabbing his rifle.

  “Thank you. It was good.” He gently gripped her hand. It occurred to her that they’d never done that, never held hands. It would be weird to walk out like that when she was supposed to be his prisoner. Too bad. “I wish you’d done it a week ago,” he added, “so we could have practiced some more along the way.”

  “I thought you were mad most of the trip.”

  “Not with you.”

  “Just with Casmir and Tristan?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to kiss them, so I assumed that was acceptable.”

  Rache sighed and released her hand, then opened the hatch.

  Kim braced herself as the bright white light of a hangar carved out of moon rock flooded the airlock. Rache put a hand on her back to guide her out, like a captor asserting his presence and guiding her, she supposed, but it felt more like a friend’s touch. A lover’s touch? Since he was in full armor, she doubted a stranger would make that assumption.

  “That’s her,” a male voice said. “Excellent.”

  Kim identified the speaker, a lean sharp-nosed man with black eyes that seemed ancient, though his body appeared to belong to someone who, had he been from the Kingdom with no access to anti-aging therapies, would have been about sixty.

  A lean woman in a black military uniform stood next to him, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun. A dozen black-and-silver bipedal robots with anti-tank guns like Qin’s were fanned out around the two people, their weapons aimed at Rache’s mercenaries, who were also fanned out, though their weapons were pointed at the speaker. He—Prince Dubashi?—appeared indifferent. If he was armored, it wasn’t obvious, but he might have something under the loose brocade sherwani and gold pants he wore.

  “Scholar Sato,” Rache agreed.

  “Scholar Sato.” Dubashi bowed to her. “I am Prince Dubashi, and this is General Kalb.” He waved for his officer to take her case.

  Kim wanted to fight that but knew it would only tip them off that she had weapons inside. She hoped they would bring it along wherever they took her.

  “I have some work that I need you to finish composing for me, ma’am,” Dubashi said.

  “I usually get paid to do work,” Kim said. “Established professionals in the field don’t expect to be kidnapped.”

  “No? Surely rank amateurs have no appeal. You should be honored.”

  “No.”

  “Unfortunate, but I must insist that you work for me. Only for a short time, until the completion of a project, and then I will release you.” Even though he’d bowed politely, his eyes were hard, like chips of obsidian.

  “What happened to Scholar Serg Sunflyer?” Kim asked, more to find out if he’d been here than because she was certain of it.

  Kalb opened her case and searched it, quickly removing the stunner and pocketing it.

  “You can attempt to ask him if you wish. Come.” Dubashi gestured toward an exit framed by columns complete with a carved architrave and friezes. The decorative accents made the hangar feel more like an ancient temple than a modern space installation.

  “I’ll insist on payment before relinquishing her,” Rache said.

  “Do you not believe I’m good for it?” Dubashi chuckled without humor.

  Kalb closed the case and handed it to one of the robots to carry.

  “Only a foolish mercenary accepts a new mission before being paid for the old,” Rache said.

  “You’ll be paid, Rache. And I’ll offer you the mission I believe you’ve been waiting a long time for.”

  Rache didn’t react.

  Kim licked her lips. Was Dubashi hinting at Jager’s assassination? Did he know Rache that well?

  Dubashi headed for the exit with Kalb and two of his robots trailing behind. They were of a similar size to Zee, but they had hard angles and lacked his liquid movements. They appeared heavy, sturdy, and formidable. Kim wouldn’t want to try to side kick one.

  Rache, his hand still on Kim’s back, walked after Dubashi. She barely felt his touch through her galaxy suit, but she didn’t mind his closeness, not here. If they ended up fighting, she wanted him at her side. She was less certain about the mercenaries who tramped after them, but at least they were obstacles between her and the remainder of Dubashi’s robots—they followed Rache’s group, hemming them in.

  As they walked, Dubashi’s back occasionally visible between the robots, it sank in that this was the man who’d started a war with her people, had ordered the bombing of Odin, and had almost gotten Casmir killed with that bounty. If she found the opportunity to stick a dagger—or the scissors she had in her kit—between his shoulder blades, shouldn’t she take it?

  Kim noted the hypocrisy of judging Rache for wanting to kill Jager when she was contemplating murder. But she feared she would regret it if the chance came up and she didn’t take it. If she could, by putting a stain on her soul, save millions of people, wouldn’t it be worth it?

  But would killing Dubashi truly end the threat to the Kingdom? Or did Dubashi have a dozen family members or other underlings ready to step in and carry on? For that matter, what if he’d already uploaded his consciousness into an android body in preparation for his eventual death?

  They wound through the gilded corridors, up several levels in a lift tube that pushed their platform aloft on a burst of air, and into a part of the base that had the familiar antiseptic smell of a hospital. Dubashi’s walk had a slightly mechanical precision of gait to it, and she wondered how human he was. Perhaps scissors to the back would do nothing but reveal circuits or implants.

  Dubashi stopped at a door and leaned into a control panel for a retina scan. After a few seconds, a soft click sounded, and a very thick door slid slowly into the even thicker wall.

  Kim grimaced at the security measure. Whatever was designed to keep people out could as easily keep her in.

  “Only Scholar Sato and Rache will come in with me,” Dubashi stated.

  His robots maneuvered to protect the entrance from anyone thinking of springing inside.

  “Sir?” one of Rache’s men asked.

  “Wait here,” Rache said, then guided Kim inside.

  Two of the robots detached from the group to follow Dubashi and Kalb.

  Kim started to compose a message to Casmir to let him know where in the base she was, but a jolt of alarm zapped her as she realized there wasn’t a network signal. Not a single one. She would have expected numerous networks on a base of this size, even if they were all secured, and also access to the system-wide public network. Maybe they were too deep in the moon for that, but what about the rest?

  Her mouth went dry as they
walked into a modern, brightly lit room with sleek black marble floors. To the sides were several biolabs, complete with airlocks, showers, vacuum rooms, and ultraviolet rooms to ensure nothing that the researchers worked on inside would escape out. Powerful ventilation rumbled, pulling out and filtering the air even in this outer room.

  Dread settled into Kim’s gut like bricks before Dubashi said a word. He wouldn’t need this degree of safety precautions if his people weren’t working with seriously deadly agents.

  Dubashi only said a couple of words about the labs, then led them to the back to show them a number of rockets in complex racks. Or was that a track for moving them through some hidden passage for loading?

  Kim swallowed. Everything she had feared she would find was here.

  “The delivery mechanisms.” Dubashi waved a hand at the rockets, then pointed to the closest of the sealed biolabs, the inside visible beyond a thick Glasnax wall. “The virologic weapon that Scholar Serg Sunflyer started working on but wasn’t quite able to complete is in there.”

  “What stopped him?” Rache asked in a flat disinterested tone.

  Was that tone an act? Back when she’d first met him, he’d destroyed the bioweapon that someone had ordered to use on the Kingdom. Surely, he wouldn’t approve of this one. But would he disapprove enough that he would refuse to work for the man dangling the one mission he’d ever truly wanted before him?

  “Fatal moral qualms, unfortunately.”

  “He decided he couldn’t finish it, and you killed him?” Kim asked.

  “Not exactly.” Dubashi guided them to another lab, this one with a corpse laid out on a table, as if being prepared for entry into a morgue cabinet. “I did inflict a small amount of pain on him, to incentivize him, if you will—such crude methods are not my preferred way of dealing with people, but I was running short on time. It was he who chose to take his own life. A lethal injection of some chemical or another. It wasn’t the virus. Which would have been rather poetic, I thought, but I understand it’s quite painful.”

  Kim stared glumly at the dead man who Bonita had been hired to find. Poor Natasha Sunflyer wouldn’t be getting her father back.

  “My time is even shorter now, Scholar Sato.” Dubashi faced her with his obsidian eyes even harder than before. “I need you to figure out what remains to be completed in the bioweapon and to complete it. I know you’re not a virologist, but you have an ecumenical background from what I’ve deduced. I’m positive you’re capable of this.”

  “I’m not,” she muttered.

  “I trust you will figure it out. After my meeting, I’ll be leaving in a ship designed to safely carry those rockets. I need them to be operational and ready to deploy.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  Rache shifted to stand at her side. He was watching Dubashi, but he seemed to be watching her, as well.

  She lamented the lack of a network, since she couldn’t send him any silent messages. And with his mask on under his helmet, she had no chance at guessing his thoughts. His stance was protective. But was he offering to kill Dubashi to protect her? With his men outside, they were outnumbered. Could they win?

  Kim wasn’t sure if Rache was even offering to try. He wanted a contract from Dubashi.

  “I’m prepared to drug you and upload all your knowledge and all your memories into my computer banks. That lab over there has all the equipment for the transfer.” Dubashi pointed toward another equipment-filled room, this one without an airlock, simply a Glasnax door and wall.

  A piece of furniture that reminded her of a dentist’s chair with straps for holding down one’s ankles and wrists was mounted in the back. Cables and probes and what reminded her of electrocardiogram electrodes dangled near the head. A shiver of fear coursed through Kim as she imagined needles thrusting through her skull.

  “At which point,” Dubashi continued, “I’ll have no use of your body, Scholar Sato. My robots have orders to strap you into that unit there and turn it on, if it’s clear you’re not working on the project. It’s paramount that this be completed soon.”

  The stony-faced officer said nothing. Kim also couldn’t tell if she was fully human.

  Dubashi’s gaze flicked toward Rache, who was standing very still, watching him intently. “Whatever you’re thinking, Rache, know that I am one of the people who purchased the experimental slydar-detecting technology, and thanks to my spies at Stardust Palace, I know that it works. My moon’s extremely powerful weapons are targeting your ship right now. Do cooperate with me. You will be rewarded, as promised.”

  “I’m still waiting for the transfer of funds for Sato’s capture.” If Rache was worried about the threat to his ship, he didn’t give anything away.

  Irritation flashed in Dubashi’s dark eyes. “Very well.”

  He walked to a desk near the front door, pulled out a tablet, and plugged a cable into a network port. He tapped a few commands.

  Rache turned his back to Dubashi and faced Kim. Kalb was keeping a close eye on them, and so were the two security robots.

  “I’m not leaving you here after that threat,” Rache murmured. “What do you want to do?”

  What would Rache agree to do?

  “Can you beat them in a fight?” Kim breathed, not wanting Kalb to overhear. She hoped Rache had some auditory enhancements along with everything else he’d had implanted.

  “Depends on if he’s expecting it and has planned for it.”

  She grimaced. Dubashi had to have planned for all manner of trouble. They were deep within his lair, and he had all the advantages. It would be foolish to fight him here.

  And more than that…

  Her gaze drifted to the rockets and all the biohazard warnings around the labs. This was the last place they wanted to hurl men and robots around, breaking things in a fight.

  Rache followed her gaze.

  Kim shook her head slightly. If she appeared to be complying with Dubashi, the robots shouldn’t have a reason to strap her into that chair. She hoped.

  “It’s done.” Dubashi stepped away from the desk.

  Rache faced him again. “So you say. As I’m sure you know, I can’t check my bank without network access. I haven’t even been able to comm my ship since arriving.”

  “Yes, it’s a shame that the dense layers of rock make wireless connectivity an impossibility,” Dubashi said blandly, not sounding like he believed it a shame at all. “There is a comm tower on the surface. After we complete our business, I’ll take you to it if you wish. But for now, I must insist that we leave the good scholar here to work while we join the mercenary captains who are waiting for us in my conference room. The Kingdom ships are on the way. They will provide a good test for my new mercenary fleet, but we must have time to iron out details and sign contracts first.”

  Dubashi extended his hand toward the door.

  Rache looked at Kim again, as if to ask if she was sure. She nodded once.

  He walked out with Dubashi, who paused to murmur orders to Kalb as they passed. Kalb nodded and sat at the desk.

  Apparently, it wasn’t only the robots that would guard Kim. Maybe Kalb was the one who would determine if Kim was working sufficiently… or needed to be thrown in that chair.

  As Rache disappeared into the corridor outside, walking side by side with Dubashi, Kim felt relieved that he’d trusted her capable of keeping herself alive without his help, but an illogical and scared part of her also felt like he was betraying her by leaving her. And going with him. The man who’d ordered her kidnapped. The man who was trying to get Casmir killed.

  The man Rache wanted to work for to destroy the Kingdom.

  27

  Casmir couldn’t keep from drumming his fingers on the side of the co-pilot’s pod. They were less than an hour from Dubashi’s base. The forward display was zoomed in on the moon, the exterior reinforced with something akin to armor—it looked like a big metal cue ball bristling with weapons platforms and towers. Dozens if not hundreds of large warships flo
ated in space all around the moon. Shuttles were flying into tunnels—entrances to the base—presumably delivering attendees for the meeting.

  On the way here, Casmir had located and acquired a copy of the blueprints from the original builder’s secured files. He knew where the meeting was likely taking place as well as where the living areas were located, but he couldn’t help but feel that leaping out with his crushers and three knights wasn’t enough of a plan.

  He’d considered trying to send the virus he’d used on the pirates back in System Hydra, but he was still haunted by what he’d inadvertently caused by doing that. The deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. Even if his virus would work on someone as tech savvy as an astroshaman leader, Casmir hated the idea of knocking out the power to the base and possibly opening the door for the Kingdom fleet to swoop in and destroy it. Dubashi might be guilty of many crimes, but who knew how many normal people were inside that moon?

  What Casmir did plan to do was hack into the base’s networks as soon as they were close enough for access. Hopefully, he could gain control of critical systems. But something about this prince, this only vaguely known nemesis who had been after him since this all started, unnerved him.

  This was a guy who’d been around a long time, doubtless surviving countless attempts on his life from people who wanted to steal his wealth. And he was still here. Here and powerful and influential enough to start a war on an entire Kingdom. Casmir worried he wouldn’t be smart enough or have the necessary resources to kidnap him.

  Drum, drum, drum…

  Bjarke looked at his fingers. Casmir put his hand in his lap and grabbed it with his other hand. His left eye blinked twice.

  “Would you like to see the blueprints for the base?” Casmir asked, hoping to stave off Bjarke voicing regrets about trusting someone as goofy as he. Or pointing out how ridiculous and obvious the two large boxes secured in the back next to the rest of the crushers were. They might pass a sensor scan, but what if there was a visual inspection before the shuttle was allowed to fly in?