Asger swallowed, afraid this startling openness was going to turn into another lecture.
“Because that would reflect poorly on me,” his father said. “And after my rocky start, I’d fought hard to not be anyone’s failure. I thought you were coming along well until your mother died, and then… well, you know what happened.”
“Yeah, nobody was around, and I wanted someone to pay attention.”
His father grimaced. Asger didn’t know if it was because he regretted not being around or if he was still embarrassed by the memory.
“I’m just trying to say that, when you did those things, made those mistakes, I could have handled it better. It’s hard for me to admit—my father never would have had a conversation like this with me—but I was, still am, absorbed in proving my worth. My worth to the king and to the old man and to all those ancestor heroes of the past. And when I was given piddling assignments in forsaken places, it was hard for me to imagine that it wasn’t because my value had been tarnished in their eyes.”
“I’m sorry what I did embarrassed you. Or affected you.” Asger never would have believed, especially back then, that his father could be embarrassed or affected by anything he did. This conversation felt surreal even now, a dream he would wake up from. Only the biting ache in his shoulder convinced him this was reality. “Do you think there’s something wrong with us that we’re obsessed with pleasing a king who’s kind of an ass, worrying about what our peers think, and living up to the expectations of past generations?”
“It is part of belonging to the nobility. It’s what we endure in exchange for the land and the right to a say in government. It’s our duty to dedicate our lives to serving the crown, to being exemplary.”
“I don’t think all nobles feel that way.” Asger could think of more than a few of his peers who’d dedicated their lives to drinking, whoring, and gambling. Admittedly, they usually weren’t firstborns and heirs. They were the lucky sods who had older brothers to shoulder the burden of carrying on the family tradition.
“The ones worth anything do.”
Asger wondered if his father included him in that category.
“Anyway, I want you to know—” his father shrugged in his armor, “—I don’t think you’re a mistake because you’ve done some dumb things. I’ve done dumb things too. All things considered, maybe I’ve judged you too harshly.”
Asger wanted to nod vigorously in agreement, but all he said was, “I’ll try to do better.”
“Good. Me too.”
Clanks emanated from the corridor around the bend. Asger touched the hole in his armor—and his flesh—and grimaced. The battle wasn’t yet done.
Qin paced behind Bonita in the Dragon’s small navigation chamber, her hands clasped behind her back as she watched the Kingdom ships flying closer to the moon base—and all the mercenary ships anchored in space around it.
A battle appeared inevitable, but she didn’t see how the Kingdom could win. Their fleet numbered only sixteen or seventeen vessels. There had to be at least fifty mercenary ships out there. Fifty visible ships. Since Rache’s Fedallah was out there, who knew how many more vessels with slydar hulls were invisible to the Dragon’s scanners? Further, the moon itself had weapons platforms scattered across its dark surface.
The question was whether all the mercenaries would fight, or if they would watch. Had Dubashi already paid them?
“I hope they get out of there in time.” Bonita gripped the side of her pod, fingers loosening and tightening. Was she feeling as useless as Qin?
“Me too.”
“Even if they left now, that shuttle could become collateral damage if they got in the way of the fight.”
“I know,” Qin said.
“Ah, Bonita?” Viggo’s tone had an odd note to it.
“Yes?”
“I was monitoring your conversation with Prince Jorg, and I don’t recall you inviting him over for dinner. Is that correct?”
“I think I invited him to stuff his head up his ass.” Bonita frowned and tapped the scanner controls.
Qin shifted uneasily. “You didn’t say exactly that, but it probably came through.”
“I thought that. Uh, is that his ship?” Bonita pointed to a blip on the scanner display.
“The Chivalrous has left formation and is veering toward us instead of the base,” Viggo verified. “It’s accelerating rapidly.”
Bonita swore and pulled the navigation arm to her temple. Qin gripped the back of the co-pilot’s pod. Could the Dragon escape? Bonita had maneuvered them in close to an asteroid, practically sitting in one of its craters, so that they wouldn’t be noticed. So much for that ploy.
“I’ll get my weapons.” Qin tapped her claws against the chest plate of her armor.
“Wait,” Bonita said. “We’re going to try to flee.”
“There isn’t time, Bonita,” Viggo said. “If I had realized sooner that they were coming toward us, I would have warned you. Even if we maneuver away from this asteroid, they would overtake us rapidly.”
“Doesn’t that prince have a fleet to lead into war?” Bonita demanded in exasperation. “Why is he pestering us?”
She fired the thrusters, getting them away from the asteroid. The force threatened to send Qin’s legs sailing out behind her.
“Maybe he doesn’t know that admirals—and princes—are supposed to lead their fleets from the front.” Qin bit her lip, torn between pulling herself into the co-pilot’s pod so she wouldn’t be hurled around the ship, and running down to her cabin for her weapons.
“He probably considers himself non-expendable,” Viggo said.
The comm chimed.
Bonita glared at it. “Do we ignore that or try to chat them up to buy time?”
Qin didn’t think Bonita had it in her to chat up the Kingdom. Throw invectives at them, possibly. Which would accelerate the time table instead of delaying it.
“What do they want?” Qin wondered. “Their missing knights? Do you think they believed you when you said they weren’t on board?”
“How would I know?” Bonita thumped her palm down on the comm panel.
A crisp female voice said, “This is the Chivalrous. Prepare to be boarded. If you attempt to flee, we will fire on your ship.”
“Why?” Bonita demanded.
Qin’s magnetic soles almost flew free again as Bonita angled the Dragon around the curvature of the asteroid and fired its thrusters. Maybe she hoped she could get around to the back and use it as a shield between them and the Kingdom ship as she flew deeper into the belt.
“You have aided men who are wanted by the Kingdom. Surrender immediately.”
“Screw off.” Bonita closed the comm.
The Chivalrous fired a weapon that had no trouble curving around the asteroid. The scanner display lit up with a warning: INCOMING FIRE.
Bonita tried to maneuver out of the way, but one could only maneuver so quickly in space. Two missiles slammed into the rear of the Dragon. Alerts shrieked, and the force threw Qin into the bulkhead behind her pod.
“I’m getting my weapons,” she said, wishing she’d made that decision earlier.
“Viggo.” Bonita patted the navigation panel in vain. None of the controls responded.
The last thing Qin saw as she maneuvered herself toward the ladder well was the thruster display flashing OFFLINE.
“I’m sorry, Bonita,” Viggo said sadly. “With time, perhaps I could fix them, but…”
Bonita swore and followed Qin down to their cabins, going for her own armor and weapons. “They’re not taking my ship without a fight,” she announced.
Already in her armor, Qin reached the cargo hold and the airlock chamber first. The panel by the hatch showed the Chivalrous, looming like a moon compared to them, aligning itself with the Dragon and extending an airlock tube.
Qin rushed to the armory and grabbed a few innocent-looking explosives she could plant on the deck. They were similar to the ones she’d used weeks earlier t
o fend off the boarding party on the Machu Picchu and would blow upward instead of damaging the deck. With luck, they’d damage the Kingdom boarding party.
As Qin set the last of them around the airlock hatch, Bonita entered the hold in her armor with a rifle in hand and wearing a bandolier of smoke bombs and grenades. She nodded approvingly at Qin, though her face was grim. Did she doubt they could repel these people? They’d fended off forced boardings before, but not from a ship so large. The Chivalrous probably had a crew of a hundred or more. How many thugs would the prince send over?
“Might I suggest hiding, Bonita?” Viggo suggested.
“No,” Bonita snarled.
A clank came from the airlock hatch.
“I assume we’re not letting them in?” Qin tucked herself into a nook in the hold that provided cover while allowing her to lean out to fire.
“Hell no.” Bonita slipped into a similar spot and pointed her rifle at the airlock hatch.
Qin thought about turning off the magnetic soles of her boots and trying to surprise the intruders by firing down from the ceiling, but there was no cover up there, and the angle wouldn’t let her shoot into the airlock chamber.
“Really, Bonita,” Viggo said in mild reproof. “They’ve already damaged my engines. You’re going to encourage them to torch holes in my hatches?”
“Maybe if we delay them, some of those mercenaries will saunter off and give them a hard time.”
“I’m afraid I can tell you that no other ships are in the vicinity.”
“Maybe the sun in this system will experience a solar flare and toast all of their equipment.”
A wrenching sound almost startled Qin into firing, but it came from the exterior airlock chamber door, not the interior. Not yet.
“They tore it clean off,” Viggo said mournfully.
“Off? Those hatches are reinforced with four layers of…” Bonita shook her head. “Bastards.”
Qin remembered times when that hatch had been forced open before, but previously, it had involved a space-rated blowtorch and ten or fifteen minutes.
The wrenching sound came again, louder than before, and Qin gaped as the inner hatch was forced open, its thick hinges warping as if they were made from the softest metal rather than the sturdiest of alloys. Qin couldn’t smell her enemies, not with her helmet on, but the realization of what they were dealing with thundered into her mind before she saw the tarry black figures.
Bonita fired first, probably expecting her energy bolts to bounce off combat armor. They did bounce off, but the crushers that strode into the hold were not armored. They didn’t need to be.
Qin fired one of her explosive rounds at the first of two, four, six… no, damn it, ten crushers that strode in. The head of the construct transformed to liquid so quickly that the round passed over the spot where its head had been. It exploded next to the exterior hull, and a breach alarm rang out.
“Captain, I’m sorry,” Qin cried out as the crusher’s head re-formed.
Two other crushers stepped on the explosives and were blown upward, their bodies warping. They struck the ceiling but merely twisted and pushed off, heading back to the deck. The rest of the crushers, their soles as magnetized as Qin’s boots, rushed in. Four headed for Qin and four headed toward Bonita.
“Bonita…” Viggo warned over the speaker. “You must surrender.”
Reluctant to risk blowing a hole in the hull, Qin leaped into the crushers, using punches and kicks to attack them. She knew it wouldn’t be effective on them, but her weapons weren’t effective either.
Frustration lent her even more speed than usual, and she connected, knocking her foes backward, but more surrounded her, and she knew fighting was futile. The last time they’d battled crushers, she, Bonita, Asger, Kim, and Casmir had only managed to get rid of the handful that had tried to get Casmir because they’d had Zee to help. Qin and Bonita had nobody this time, and there were too many.
That didn’t keep her from fighting as hard as she could. She was engineered to fight, not to give up.
But one finally slipped around behind her and caught her by the shoulder. Even with her great strength, she couldn’t break its grip. She kicked out, having the satisfaction of slamming a boot into a dark torso of one in front of her and sending it flying back into the airlock chamber. But another crusher grabbed her from behind, and they soon had her immobilized.
Qin’s weapons were ripped away, but she snarled, refusing to acknowledge fear as the crushers twisted her arms behind her back and marched her toward the airlock. Bonita was enduring the same treatment. The crushers had them completely surrounded. There was no escape.
“Hold them there,” a man said, appearing in the tube.
A breach alarm pulsed from the bulkheads in the cargo hold. Qin hoped it was for a tiny easily repairable leak, not that these brutes were likely to let them do repairs.
An officer strode into the hold wearing armor, his features obscured by his faceplate. He looked around, then waved for four armored men to enter.
“Search the ship,” he said. “We’re looking for Kim Sato, Casmir Dabrowski, and William and Bjarke Asger.”
“None of whom are here,” Bonita growled.
“We’ll find out soon,” the officer said, then extended a hand toward the crusher. “What do you think of the prince’s pets, Captain, I assume it is?”
“Captain Lopez, yes, and they’re a lot uglier than Casmir’s pets.”
Qin frowned. Were these different crushers or had Jorg already gotten ahold of the ones Casmir had been building for the sultan?
“Are they?” the officer asked as his men fanned out to search the ship. “These are some of the originals. I think he helped build them too. Prince Jorg likes them.”
“I bet. Why send men in to brutalize women when ugly robots can do it?”
“I’ll grant that you’re certainly a woman, Captain, but you travel with strange company.” He looked at Qin.
Qin growled at him. Bonita smiled.
An armored man chanced on one of the explosives Qin had set. She smiled to herself when he was blown into the air, cursing in pain as his armor was breached. The officer told him to quit screwing around and finish the search. The Kingdom soldiers were a sympathetic lot.
Several minutes later, the Kingdom troops returned. “We didn’t see anybody else, sir.”
“That’s what I told you.” Bonita glared.
“Where are they?”
“On that base, trying to help your people. I don’t know why they’re bothering. You’re not worth it.”
The officer gazed at her. “Has anyone ever advised you, Captain, that it’s not wise to antagonize the people holding you captive?”
“Never heard that, no.”
“Bring them along.” The officer waved for the crushers to follow him.
Qin took a long look back as she was herded first into the airlock, and she wondered if she would ever see the Dragon again.
“You’re seriously kidnapping us from our own ship?” Bonita demanded, the crushers shoving her after Qin. “I’ve committed no crimes, and you have no jurisdiction here.”
“You’re not being imprisoned because you’re a criminal, Captain, though I would be shocked if a little research didn’t turn up some indiscretions. But as an incentive to motivate others.”
32
Just as Casmir found the sound controls for the camera in the conference room, so he could hear what Dubashi was saying in that meeting, the sound of guns firing rang out in the corridor. He jumped. Something clanged off the door of Dubashi’s office. Muffled thuds came through, and Casmir heard Bjarke shout. He had to trust that the crushers and the knights would take care of the new threat.
Casmir switched to the computer station at one of Dubashi’s desks. Even with such formidable allies defending the office doors, he feared he didn’t have much time.
As he searched for a way to take over one of the displays in that conference room, while keeping the peo
ple inside from turning it off once he started transmitting, Casmir spotted a file name that startled him. Jager.
That was all it said, with the file extension telling him it was a video clip.
He tapped it open, unable to resist, even as another bullet clanged off their door.
“Just a quick look,” he whispered.
Tristan was organizing the financial reports into graphs. Casmir should have a couple of minutes.
Jager’s face, little different than it had been the day Casmir had spoken to him in the dungeon, appeared on the comm display. “Not only are we disinterested in trading with some self-proclaimed prince whose supposed royalty only comes from the crowns he’s lied, cheated, and swindled others out of over the centuries, but we will see to it that your little empire is wiped out when we take System Stymphalia for our own.”
The clip stopped playing. That was it? Some snippet from a longer conversation that Dubashi had saved as… what? Motivation?
“Why would Jager have goaded someone so powerful and influential?” Tristan had paused his work to watch the video play.
“I don’t know. It almost seems like…”
“What?”
Casmir hesitated to say the words, since this snippet had clearly been trimmed from some surrounding conversation—maybe Dubashi had been blustering and threatening just as much as Jager had.
“Casmir?” Tristan prompted.
“That Jager wanted this, wanted Dubashi to start a war with him. With us.”
Tristan didn’t point out that he wasn’t a part of the Kingdom any longer. “But what about the news footage that’s made its way here? Unless it was faked, Odin—Zamek City—is being bombed. Jager couldn’t have wanted that.”
“I wonder.” Casmir remembered the message he’d gotten from Oku of her standing at her father’s side in what had looked like a windowless secured complex, not old Drachen Castle. Basilisk Citadel, he guessed, though he’d never been inside. A forcefield was known to protect the Citadel from all threats ancient and modern. So even if the city was in danger, Jager and his family were safe.
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