Tristan poked him. “Wonder later. I’m ready with your file.”
Casmir glanced back at a graph and a simple bank statement with the negative numbers circled and bolded in a large red font. “Good. Give me a moment.”
Casmir pulled out his tablet and plugged it into the nearest port, bringing up a program that should help him take over the comm system. An explosion roared outside the doors, and he almost dropped the tablet. Somewhere nearby, rock snapped, reminding him ominously of the astroshaman base. How many levels of stone were above their heads now?
“I hope they’re not buying us time with their lives.” Tristan stared at the door.
“You can join them if you want. But first tell me if there’s anything else you found that would help me convince a bunch of mercenaries not to work for Dubashi.”
“He hasn’t paid any of the people he’s got blockading the System Lion gate in over a month. It’s probably only the fact that they’re stuck in that system that they haven’t realized their pay is overdue. And since Dubashi is a Miners’ Union prince, they must assume he’s good for it.”
“Why isn’t he? I know war is expensive, but…” Casmir trailed off as he got the access he wanted. He was ready.
“He bought a lot of the warships that he sent on the blockade mission, and it looks like he’s got some more here in the base or elsewhere in this system too. Maybe he bought them to sacrifice them to this venture. I’m sure he’s lost dozens by now to the Kingdom Fleet. Maybe he thought he could do it all himself, but he’s realizing he needs even more firepower.” Tristan waved to the conference room still on the display, to Dubashi walking about, hands raised like a preacher delivering a sermon.
“Why would he invest so much in such an all-or-nothing venture?”
“That’s not atypical for entrepreneurs, I’m learning. They take big risks and fail often, but sometimes, those risks can pay off in a big way, and the rewards are vast.”
“Like a planet?” Casmir asked.
“I imagine so.”
“All right. Thank you. Wait, one more task, please. Can you cycle through those camera displays and try to find Kim? I think she might be stuck in a medical lab somewhere.”
“I’ll look.”
Casmir toggled on the sound from the camera in the conference room, and Dubashi’s voice filled the office. It wasn’t, he could tell right away, the voice of a smooth orator, but he was indeed promising great wealth to whomever joined him.
Casmir would never get a better opening. He took over the speakers in the room as well as one of the displays.
“Ask to see that money,” he said.
Dubashi whirled toward a speaker.
Realizing he might destroy them or be able to wrest control back, Casmir spoke quickly.
“You’re being swindled, my friends. My name is Casmir Dabrowski, a roboticist working for Sultan Shayban—” Vaguely true, and Casmir hoped these mercenaries would be more likely to believe an ally of Shayban than a loyal minion from the Kingdom, “—and I’m looking at Prince Dubashi’s bank account right now. It’s empty, my mercenary friends.” He tapped a button to place the pretty chart Tristan had made on the display in the conference room. “Worse than empty. He’s in the negative. This war has bankrupted him.”
“Lies,” Dubashi barked.
He rushed toward the display, yanking out a DEW-Tek pistol. But Rache, bless his cold mercenary soul, intercepted him, catching his wrist before Dubashi could fire at the display.
“Since you don’t know me or have any reason to take my word for it,” Casmir went on, inspiration striking as he glanced at Tristan, “allow me to have Princess Nalini’s new business partner—if you travel often in this system, I trust you have heard of her—detail what he found in Dubashi’s bank files.”
Casmir waved the startled Tristan forward to expound on the chart. He had no idea if mercenaries would have heard of the sultan’s entrepreneurial daughter, but he didn’t think it would matter. Establishing her—and Tristan—as business people might be enough.
Despite being surprised, Tristan offered a solid summing up of what he’d found, managing to encapsulate Dubashi’s financial straits in a few succinct sentences. They were delivered without passion—he didn’t sound at all like he was trying to sway someone to his side—which served to make the words more believable.
Meanwhile, Dubashi struggled against Rache and shouted for his guards. Armored robots, not men, rushed into the conference room, but the mercenaries, who clearly wanted to hear more, interfered with their progress and kept them from assisting their boss.
Dubashi spun toward Rache and whispered a string of harsh words that Casmir’s purloined camera on the far wall couldn’t pick up. Whatever he said—A threat? A promise?—prompted Rache to release him. Dubashi threw something to the floor, and smoke rose up.
No, more than smoke, judging by the coughing that started up. Rache raised his armor’s helmet, as did several of the other mercenaries.
Dubashi leaped onto the table and flung himself over the tangle of robots and men, displaying strength and alacrity shocking in someone that age—shocking if he’d been fully human, that was. He bypassed the crowd and rushed out the doorway as the smoke filled the room.
“How much do you want to bet he’s headed up here to strangle us himself?” Tristan asked.
“A distinct possibility.” Casmir bit his lip, considering the chaos in the conference room.
Rache had disappeared. Was he chasing after Dubashi? If he wanted Dubashi, why had he let him go?
The remaining mercenaries were still fighting robots. Or maybe each other. Or both.
“I’m surprised that was so easy,” Tristan admitted.
It had been easy. “I bet they’d already seen a lot of signals that Dubashi might not be quite as wealthy as they’d previously believed. If it’s true that the mercenaries that got sucked in for the initial blockade haven’t been paid in a while…”
“Word might have gotten out.” Tristan nodded.
“Also, you were convincing. You sounded like an accountant.”
“And everyone believes accountants?”
“Unbiased ones.”
Tristan’s lip twisted, as if he didn’t believe there were many unbiased accountants out there. But what he said was, “Do you think they’ll go back to their ships and get out of here before Jorg’s fleet arrives?”
“Good question.” Casmir looked at the displays showing the mercenary ships floating in space around the moon base. “There are so many warships out there, all apparently available to hire, for someone with the money to do so.”
That was definitely not Casmir. It could be Jorg if he was smart enough to do so. Should Casmir attempt to send the prince a message from here? Did the Kingdom need to hire these mercenaries? Or would it be enough if they didn’t show up to reinforce the enemy fleet already in System Lion?
“That almost could have been me.” Tristan offered with a rueful smile.
“Because you’re the princess’s business partner?” Casmir tapped through the idents of the incoming Kingdom ships and sent a comm to Jorg’s Chivalrous, wondering if a message originating at Dubashi’s base would be accepted.
“No. My mentor, Sir Sebastian Hanh, tried to leave his estate to me back when I was still a knight in good standing. He had a son and a family, so that didn’t go over well. If I ever show up back on Odin, they’ll drag me before a judge to sign away any interest in it. If it hasn’t already been signed away by the king or the Senate. They don’t care for non-nobles receiving estates.”
“I can imagine. Can you try to find Kim?” Casmir waved Tristan to the displays featuring internal cameras. “And, uhm, it would be good to know if Dubashi is about to storm in.”
“Yes. Sorry, I got distracted earlier.”
“Don’t be sorry. You were great. I’m glad you agreed to help me instead of flinging yourself onto that tank with the others.”
Tristan shrugged. “I spen
t a lot more years training to be a knight than to be a financier. Flinging comes naturally.”
“Well, you should work on overcoming that. You’ve got a brain.”
“Would you be embarrassed if I admitted that means a lot coming from you?”
“Puzzled but not embarrassed. I only get embarrassed when I have seizures in front of cute girls. Come on, Jorg. Answer the comm. Your wayward roboticist wants to talk to you.”
Tristan blinked at the abrupt topic shift.
Casmir glanced at the camera zoomed out to show the Kingdom fleet. Where was the Chivalrous? He leaned over and ran a quick search. The camera swiveled and locked onto two ships near an asteroid. One was the Chivalrous and one was—
He sucked in a startled breath. The Stellar Dragon.
What were they doing together?
Casmir assumed Bonita had found the asteroid to hide behind to stay out of the way of the action, but why in the universe would Jorg be taking his ship over to harass hers? Did he think Kim was aboard? Or that his knights were? He couldn’t want Qin or Bonita. Why?
The Chivalrous finally answered the comm, and Casmir lurched back in time to see Jorg’s face pop up on the screen. A second of panic welled up as he forgot what he’d intended to say in light of this new information. Should he ask what the hell the prince was doing over there? Or maybe if he gave Jorg a new direction to go, he’d leave Bonita alone.
Jorg started to open his mouth, and Casmir rushed to cut him off.
“Oh, Your Highness. Thank you for answering me personally. I’m honored. And comming, you may have noticed, from Dubashi’s office inside his base. An ally and I—” Casmir caught himself before mentioning Tristan by name, recalling that he and Jorg were mortal enemies now, “—managed to break into Dubashi’s finances and learn that he’s lacking a certain cash flow right now and can’t pay any of the mercenaries he’s hired or is trying to hire. Naturally, we crashed their meeting and let these new mercenaries know. I think it’s possible that you may be facing fewer enemies when you arrive. I’m sure that will please you.” Casmir hoped that would please him. “But it occurred to me that you might wish to take advantage and hire these ready-at-hand mercenaries to help evict the ships blockading the System Lion gate.”
Prince Jorg’s face went through a half a dozen emotions as he listened to Casmir’s rapid-fire speech. Or perhaps it was a nervous-burbling speech.
“Hire mercenaries!” Unfortunately, his face settled on the last emotion, rage. “We do not hire those bottom-feeding lowlifes. We don’t need them.”
“Uhm.” Casmir wanted to argue, wanted to convince the prince otherwise—the weeks the blockade had been in place suggested the Kingdom needed to hire someone. But before he got two more words out, Jorg continued on, his voice raised to drown out Casmir’s.
“And you! What are you doing on that base? You’re supposed to be delivering crushers to me.”
“Yes, Your Highness. But I assumed you’d want Dubashi thwarted first. I have twelve crushers—” Casmir hoped he still had twelve crushers, “—and left the manufacturing facility at Stardust Palace building more. The one hundred you asked for. Sultan Shayban agreed to—”
“That ass. You left the manufacturing facility unmanned? He’ll try to keep them all for himself. Dabrowski!”
“I do plan to go back to retrieve them.” Casmir smiled and tried not to unravel in the face of this illogical anger. He was here helping the prince, the entire Kingdom. How could Jorg truly be upset?
To the side, out of view of the camera, Tristan shook his head slowly, as if he’d expected nothing less from the unstable prince.
“And I’ll bring them to you, of course, Your Highness,” Casmir continued, forcing good cheer. “Just give me a rendezvous point. Or even better, if you could come pick us up—” while leaving the Dragon alone… “—that would expedite things. I don’t actually have a long-range craft available to take me all the way back to the palace.”
“No?” Jorg’s anger faded into something cooler, his eyes closing to slits. “Are you certain you hadn’t planned to get away with my knights and all your crushers in this freighter we found lurking near an asteroid?”
Casmir tried not to quail under that scrutiny. Was that why Jorg was over there? Had he believed Bonita was going to be his pilot in a wild escape from the base and the fleet? That didn’t make sense. The Dragon wasn’t as fast as most of the ships Jorg had gathered.
“The Stellar Dragon? No, we parted ways with it. The captain is on her own mission, trying to find a missing scientist.”
“We’ll see about that.” Jorg leaned in, tapped a button, and the camera view shifted to a stark brig cell.
Casmir couldn’t keep from swearing under his breath. Qin and Bonita, both stripped of their armor, both bruised and bleeding, stood behind bars, glaring defiantly.
“Why?” Casmir whispered, confused, his heart aching for his friends. He hadn’t wanted them to be caught up in this madness.
“Because they mean something to you,” Jorg said. “And to Sir Bjarke and Sir William Asger, I understand. You’ve all made grave mistakes in not following my orders.”
“But we were following them. Especially Bjarke! He’s loyal to you, Your Highness.”
“An odd emphasis. Are you saying that you and William are not?” Jorg’s lip curled.
“No, Your Highness.” Casmir wondered if Jorg knew anything about the message Jager had sent with Oku. If he did, wouldn’t he believe that Casmir didn’t need any other levers applied to him? “I simply thought I could find my own path with the crushers, and I know you didn’t ask me to take over Dubashi’s moon base, but I assumed you would want him captured and out of the fight.”
Jorg tilted his head. “Have you captured him?”
“Not exactly yet, but he’s here somewhere. We can capture him.” Casmir hoped so, since that had been his promise to the sultan.
Jorg grunted. “Do so, and I’ll spare the lives of your friends. Or trade their freedom for yours, I should say. You, as far as I’m concerned, are a wanted man. I plan to take you back to the Kingdom to face my father. In cuffs.”
Jorg, Casmir decided as he stared numbly at the display, was not as good at manipulating people as Jager.
“Bring Dubashi to me,” Jorg said, “alive or dead. I don’t care which, but I want him. If you fail, you’ll all regret it.”
The comm went dark.
“When did our government leaders turn into super villains out of a comic book?” Casmir croaked, the image of Bonita and Qin injured and locked up burned into his mind.
Tristan sighed. “I think Jorg always has been. He’s always liked seeing people hurt. Jager is… I’m not sure. More subtle, at the least.”
“Yeah.” Casmir rubbed his face with a shaking hand, trying to focus on what he needed to do next. “We need to find Kim and Dubashi. And we need to do it quickly, because the rest of Jorg’s fleet is almost here.”
“I found her.” Tristan’s voice was grim. He pointed to one of the displays.
It featured a sprawling medical laboratory with an alarming wall of rockets gleaming in the back, like shark teeth jutting up from a rack on the floor to a high ceiling. Kim was in a side lab, strapped into some madman’s torture chair. And a bunch of robots and a woman with a rifle were pointing their weapons at her.
“We have to go,” Casmir said. “Now!”
Hope whispered through Kim when she heard the door to the laboratory complex open, but General Kalb merely glanced aside without reacting and kept her rifle pointed at Kim’s chest. With the two robots looming beside her, and the metal fasteners of the chair keeping Kim from even moving her head, she found the rifle almost laughably superfluous. But there was nothing in her now capable of laughter.
Dubashi walked into her view, his sherwani ruffled and his face flushed. Kim hoped someone had punched him.
Despite the dishevelment, his voice was calm when he spoke. “You said a couple of the rockets are
still loaded and that the virus is indeed inside?”
Kalb nodded curtly.
“Watch her.” Dubashi jogged out of sight. “I’ll get them onto the ship. We’re evacuating.”
Kalb looked sharply in the direction he’d gone. “What happened to the mercenaries?”
The faint hope returned, though Kim feared that whatever was going wrong for them wouldn’t help her.
“They found out that finances are tight,” Dubashi said, a soft clank sounding from the back of the lab, “and surprisingly few were willing to work for physical assets.”
Kalb snorted. “Were any of them?”
“Rache.”
Kim closed her eyes.
“We’ve got Rache. He knows the value of assets. He’s going to assassinate the king and that idiot prince, too, if he can. And if we’ve got two rockets, that may still be enough to clear off Odin for our people’s use.”
Clear off Odin. He truly intended to use the virus. Not just bluff. Not bargain with the power those rockets would give him.
“We just have to get them safely to System Lion,” Dubashi added. A faint rattling started up. “There, the rockets are on their way to my ship.”
Kim opened her mouth, not sure what she would say but knowing she had to say something. She had to try to sway them somehow.
A computerized voice came from the speakers, drowning out her attempt. “Alert, alert, the base is under attack. Moon shields have been deployed, and Automated Weapons Sequence One is firing.”
A faint shudder reverberated through the lab, and vials and equipment clinked and clanked in cabinets. On a station, everything would have been secured against the possibility of it losing its spin gravity, but on a moon, with its constant gravity, nobody had taken such precautions.
A hot flush of fear went through Kim as she imagined stored containers of Scholar Sunflyer’s concoction tipping over and breaking. Not that the virus was the immediate concern. If these megalomaniacs shot her, what did it matter if it escaped into the air?
Planet Killer (Star Kingdom Book 6) Page 47