Crossfire (Star Kingdom Book 4)

by Lindsay Buroker

  Rache stood behind the injured lieutenant, his arms over his chest, managing to ooze displeasure even through his mask.

  “Into a fist?” Yas pulled the man’s hand away and grimaced at the broken nose, cartilage crunched flat just below the bridge. “Here, press this against it.”

  He tore off a section of the bandage for him, then fished for painkillers, his medical scanner, and his programmable repair nanites.

  “It’s difficult to read anything in the ocean through the ice crust, Captain,” an officer reported from the ship’s small science station. “As we orbit, I’ll try to find fissures where we might get a scan through. Sending a probe down wouldn’t be a bad idea. Do we have probes?”

  “It’s not a science vessel, Neimanhaus,” Rache said. “Do your best. We’ll buy probes if we determine this was that cargo ship’s destination. Amergin, what have you got on those satellites?”

  “I’ve confirmed that two were set in orbit by the two planetary governments in the system to help provide whole-system network coverage, and two other satellites appear to be privately owned civilian models. I hacked into one, and it was only transmitting data related to weather and climate conditions below. I’m guessing it belongs to some corporation with interest in the moon. The second one…” Amergin swiveled in his chair and grinned. “It was too well protected for me to hack into it, but I intercepted a few transmissions that weren’t encoded. Mostly boring stuff—lots of downloading of media entertainment and shopping from stores in the system—but some pedestrian messages heading to and from locations in the system with known astroshaman colonies and communities. It’s not proof, mind you, and the messages themselves are nothing useful, but there’s far less chatter heading off to habitats and terrestrial colonies without astroshaman communities.”

  “How many astroshaman communities are there in this system?” Rache asked. “And how many don’t have a significant astroshaman presence?”

  “There are four known astroshaman communities of notable size and twenty-seven human habitations without a major astroshaman presence. Enough that we can consider the results statistically significant, I should say.” Amergin lifted his wide-brimmed hat and inclined his head.

  Rache nodded. “Can you pinpoint what locations on the moon the transmissions are targeting?”

  “Yes. They’re all going to one spot. There are several bulk transmissions during periods of the moon’s rotation when that spot has line-of-sight with the satellite.”

  “All to one spot? Can we send a shuttle down to visit it? Is it a known city or outpost?”

  “Er, not exactly, sir.”

  Yas’s patient winced as his jet injector delivered the nanites. Yas knew those always had a bite, but it seemed insignificant next to the pain of a broken nose.

  “It’s not an outpost,” Amergin continued, “and the relay node—as I’m guessing it is—appears to be in the water under a gap in the ice.”

  “How deep in the water?” Rache asked. “It can’t be too far down, or the satellite’s signal would have trouble reaching it.”

  “Oh, not that deep, sir. About three hundred meters, maybe. But unless you’ve got some submarines I don’t know about stored away on the ship, we won’t be able to go check it out personally.”

  “We don’t even have probes,” the officer at the science station muttered, sounding truly indignant.

  He wore a spiked metal collar, as well as spiked accessories to his galaxy suit, and his muscles were large enough to border on the ridiculous. Yas was certain he’d seen him go on combat missions. There was something odd about such a man complaining about a lack of proper scientific equipment.

  “We can get those things if we need them,” Rache said coolly, a warning note in his voice.

  “Yes, sir,” the man said with a few vigorous head bobs. He had to be a foot taller than Rache and weigh twice as much, but he glanced nervously at him and seemed to genuinely regret his sarcastic muttering.

  “What’s the moon’s gravity?” Rache asked. “If we fly down to take a closer look at this fissure, will we be able to fly out again?”

  “Oh, easily, sir,” the navigation officer replied. “Only twenty percent of Odin’s. The gravity won’t be what we need to worry about when we want to leave.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Four Kingdom warships just flew into the system.”

  Rache lifted his chin. “I’m not worried about them. It’ll be interesting to see where they go. If they head to this moon, it’ll mean we guessed right. And more quickly than they did.” He sounded a little smug.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is there any point in getting closer, Amergin?” Rache asked. “I’m curious about this fissure and whether it looks like it’s an entrance to the ocean the astroshamans are using.”

  “I think so, sir.” Amergin put his hat back on and turned to his station, tapping a few controls. “From closer, we might be able to tell where that relay station is sending its transmissions to, and it’s possible we’ll be able to get some readings from under the ice if we’re near a substantial-enough opening in it.”

  “Can you tell if that fissure is natural or manmade?”

  “Not from up here in orbit. That’s something else we might be better able to determine if we go down.”

  “ETA to get in and out?” Rache asked.

  “About six hours to that spot on the moon, and if we go straight back up to orbit, that’s a matter of minutes,” Amergin said. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that our slydar hull won’t be as effective at hiding us in atmosphere. It would be worse on a planet like Odin, but the disturbance of our passing would be detectable to someone looking in the right spot, and we’ll make a shadow if we go down on the sunny side.”

  “Understood,” Rache said. “Lieutenant Woo, take us to Amergin’s fissure.”

  “Oh, we’re naming it after me?” Amergin asked. “I’m honored. I’d prefer to have a mountain or canyon or something more substantial named after me, but I guess you have to start wrestling smaller pigs.”

  Yas crinkled his brow at the metaphor but focused on Rache instead. “Is it likely that the Kingdom ships will be looking for you? Us?”

  He reluctantly admitted that as long as he was on the Fedallah, he was essentially one of the mercenaries. He would be fired on, the same as they would, if the ship flew into battle.

  “They know I tried to get the gate before. I’d be surprised if they don’t believe I’m still determined to keep them from getting it. They may not suspect we’re ahead of them, but if I were them, I wouldn’t underestimate our team.”

  “My nose itches, Doctor,” Yas’s patient complained.

  “Nanites are fixing your smashed cartilage.”

  “Do they have to do it itchily?” The officer’s fingers twitched upward, as if he couldn’t control them.

  “Yes. It’s how you know they’re working.”

  Yas was amazed that the mercenaries had no trouble walking into battle and getting their limbs blown off, but then complained about tiny discomforts.

  “Maybe it would make sense to skip investigating with the ship,” Yas told Rache, “and go straight to Tiamat Station to buy some submarines.”

  “They make them?” Rache sounded surprised.

  “Yes. There are a number of tourist outfits based out of the station that take people to the water worlds, and you can rent equipment. The manufacturing is cheaper in space, and there’s a zero-g industrial annex anchored near Tiamat.”

  “Cheaper?” Rache tilted his head slightly. “I’m looking at the network site for WaterZoom, the manufacturing facility based out of your station, and it looks like a model large enough to fit six people is two hundred thousand crowns. No, Union dollars. That’s even worse.”

  “It’s something you buy as an investment if you’re starting a tourism business.”

  “Are the margins better on that than on the mercenary business?” Rache asked dryly.


  “I think that’s a question for your accountant. I’m your doctor, remember.”

  “Ah.”

  “They rent them out,” Yas said. “Maybe you can rent one.”

  “What kind of damage deposit would be required for a notorious mercenary?”

  “Probably a high one. I assume you have fake names.”

  “I’ll look into it more closely,” Rache said, “but take us down to the fissure, Woo. I’m not making a trip to pick up submarines unless I know the astroshamans and the gate are down there.”

  Yas told himself not to be disappointed that Rache hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to head to the station. Even if he had, it wouldn’t have been an opportunity for Yas to meander through the streets and parks with Jess—or anybody else. Until his name was cleared, he couldn’t go anywhere near those parks. He forced aside a twinge of homesickness, reminding himself that Rache had promised to work on his problem next.

  His gaze drifted toward a small display someone had brought up that showed the four blips representing the Kingdom warships as they moved away from the gate and into the system.

  Yas tried not to think about Amergin’s statement that they wouldn’t be as camouflaged down on the moon, and he also tried not to guess how the Fedallah would do in a battle against that many warships. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know.

  13

  On the Osprey’s fourth day in System Hydra, Casmir was called to the captain’s briefing room. He put his tools away—he’d been doing a few repairs to Tork, damage left from his handlers and also from the times he’d grappled with Zee on the shuttle—and headed to the lift.

  Knowing Ishii didn’t trust Tork, Casmir had been leaving him in his cabin, and he only took Zee along. It would take time before any of them truly knew if they could trust Tork, so Casmir couldn’t object to leaving him out of important planning meetings. Assuming that was what this was.

  When he crossed the bridge to the briefing room, he found Kim, Grunburg, and Asger already seated at the large oval table inside, along with several of Ishii’s department heads and two high-ranking marines. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Meister from Intelligence was also there. He smiled easily at Casmir, and Casmir made himself nod back, but he hadn’t forgotten the probing conversation in the gym.

  Casmir slid into an empty seat next to Kim. Zee stood against the wall behind them. Kim quirked an eyebrow at his silent presence.

  “Do you really have a reputation among the robots of the system?” she asked.

  A few other conversations were going on at the table while the officers waited for the captain.

  “I’m not sure.” Casmir had also wondered about that comment, and about what robots Tork had been in contact with.

  As far as he knew, there was no dedicated network for androids and quasi-intelligent computers in the Kingdom. That didn’t mean there couldn’t be an underground one though. Ever since artificial intelligences had left their home worlds and habitats in droves to claim Verloren Moon for themselves, most governments had been careful to put a ceiling on how intelligent computers and robots could legally be made. He didn’t know if he found it natural or alarming that the robots of the system might have a way to communicate with each other without using the public network.

  “I guess it’s better to have a good reputation than a bad one,” Kim said.

  “Yes, maybe I’ll be spared if there’s ever a robot uprising.”

  “That’s not very funny.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stand in front of you so you’re protected.”

  “That would be more comforting if you were taller than I am. And knew how to do a decent roundhouse kick.”

  “You have such stringent demands for a bodyguard. I don’t think Zee knows roundhouse kicks, and look how effective he is.”

  Ishii came in, and the conversations around the table ended.

  “We’re a day from Xolas Moon and three days from Tiamat Station,” he said without preamble as he settled into the deck-locked chair at the head of the table. “The latter is relevant because it’s the closest location for submarines.”

  “Submarines, sir?” one of the sturdy marine officers asked, his buzz-cut hair speckled with gray.

  “We’ve been told the gate was likely taken to an underwater base on Xolas. Submarines would be the only way to reach it. And if we intend to attack the base in order to take the gate, we’ll need plenty of them. Fortunately, the Kingdom has a good relationship with the new president of Tiamat Station. Perhaps we could borrow the necessary craft instead of being forced to purchase them. They’re not inexpensive.”

  “Sir,” the marine said, glancing at his fellow officer, “while my men and I are ready for an infantry incursion in any setting, land, air, or… underwater, it seems unwise to attack them on their own ground. Especially if they’re expecting an attack. Is there no way we could flush them out?”

  “For that matter,” Grunburg said, “how would they have gotten the gate down to an underwater base in the first place? From what we saw when we battled them, their cargo ship was a spaceship, no different from ours.”

  “Not no different,” Ishii said. “They had that irritating stealth generator and who knows what other technology our Intelligence people are unaware of?”

  Meister frowned at this slight to Intelligence people.

  “Dabrowski,” Ishii said. “You were on that ship. Did you see anything that would suggest it had some sort of amphibious capabilities?”

  “No, but I wasn’t looking for anything like that. I’m not the expert on spaceships, but isn’t it possible they landed or lowered the gate pieces down to the ice, and they were transferred to this base by submarines?”

  “It is possible. I wish we had more proof that this base exists and that this is the right spot.” Ishii looked at Kim for the first time.

  She turned her palm toward the ceiling. “I could only determine that it’s likely that Tork originated in or spent significant time in this system recently.”

  “Yes, it’s Tork who told us about this base specifically.” Ishii grimaced and looked at Meister.

  “There are a lot of rumors on the network, especially the network here in System Hydra, of an underwater base and shrine for the astroshamans. I’m actually inclined to believe it exists and is on the ice moon. I think if they were flying in and out of the two water worlds—the two fairly heavily populated water worlds—they would have been spotted numerous times and their base would be reality rather than a rumor.”

  “They may know we’re coming,” the older marine officer said. “Rented submarines designed for scientists and tourists to use would not be ideal troop carriers.”

  “We’ve got some manufacturing capabilities in the lower decks,” Ishii said. “We could beef them up. But I do concede your point, Colonel. I’d prefer to use some trickery to flush them out before attempting a forward assault.”

  The colonel’s bunched shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yes, Captain. Good.”

  “That may be more possible now that we have a face and a name of one of the astroshamans involved,” Ishii said.

  Casmir sat straighter in his chair. Did that mean Intelligence had identified the owner of that strand of hair?

  Ishii extended a hand toward Meister, who tapped at controls built into the table, and a holographic photograph of someone’s head appeared in the middle. The woman had bronze skin, milky whitish blue eyes, and short white hair swept back as if she’d exited a wind tunnel. Casmir couldn’t tell if the eyes signified blindness or that she had some high-powered contacts that hid her irises. Other than that, she appeared fully human, at least on the outside. Not all of the astroshamans got cybernetics that identified them as blatant hybrids, but it did seem to be a hallmark of the religion, perhaps a way they easily identified each other when they traveled.

  “This is Kyla Moonrazor, one of the high shamans of the religion,” Meister said, “and the owner of the strand of hair that Professor Dabrowski picked up.”


  “I thought it looked too light to be mine. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t Zee’s.” Casmir smiled and waved at his silent bodyguard.

  Nobody else smiled. Most of their faces had grown serious at the appearance of the holo picture.

  Casmir ran a quick search on the name. So far, he’d found that his access to the System Hydra public network was limited, and he wondered if the various servers and routers had a list of chip numbers of Kingdom subjects and restricted what databases they could poke into.

  Moonrazor appeared, first as a teenager more than fifty years earlier, apprehended for a number of juvenile crimes on the cloud city of Nuevo Caracas on Nabia. In her twenties, she had received three degrees from two different universities, all in systems engineering and programming. She also had numerous certificates of mastery for various programming languages. In her fifties, she’d left her lucrative job at a software company and disappeared for years. Family members had proclaimed her dead. Ten years ago, she’d reappeared, named as a leader of the astroshamans but with no known residence listed. She had consulted—that was the term used, but it had quotation marks around it—with several mercenary outfits that attacked government installations throughout the systems, including a couple of hits back in System Lion. Unlike Rache, she didn’t seem to target the Kingdom specifically, but she was one of the few astroshamans listed with a criminal record and the only one with a warrant out for her arrest in multiple systems.

  “I think we can assume she made the virus,” Meister said, “and is smart enough to have found the cargo ship that Dabrowski thought he hid.” His eyebrow twitched.

  “I didn’t know I was hiding it from someone with more degrees than I have,” Casmir said.

  “Just us idiots in the Fleet?” Ishii asked.

  Casmir hesitated, then opened his mouth.

  Kim elbowed him. “There’s no way you can answer that without irking him,” she muttered.

  “Right.” Casmir folded his hands on the table and did his best to appear politely attentive.