Hero Code

by Lindsay Buroker

  “You just want to search the boxes,” the other guard said, “because that middle one is from a chocolatier.”

  “Yes, that box looks especially suspicious. All foods should be tested before Scholar Sato eats them.”

  “She’s not the queen, and you’re not the court taster.”

  The guard prodded the chocolate box. “I could be.”

  “I’ll just take these inside,” Casmir said, shuffling past them.

  The hungry guard lifted a hand, as if to stop him, but Asger stepped forward, wearing his gray liquid armor and his purple cloak.

  “Nothing is going to be tested,” Asger said. “Scholar Sato wouldn’t be so foolish as to invite dangerous guests to her dinner party.”

  Kim almost choked, imagining Rache using his jet boots to fly up to her balcony even as they spoke.

  “Yes, Sir Knight.” The guard backed off and resumed his official stance beside the door, though he did watch the chocolate box disappear into the apartment with longing in his eyes.

  “What is all this, Casmir?” Kim took a couple of the boxes as she waved everyone inside. “Not all comic books, surely.”

  “Not all, no.” He smiled, set the rest of the gift boxes on a bookcase, then spread his arms in invitation.

  Kim hesitated, not sure they needed to hug twice in two months.

  Casmir only smiled wider and stepped forward and hugged… Zee.

  “Zee, buddy, I missed you!” He patted the hulking crusher on the back. He looked like a kid standing next to the construct, his cheek only reaching Zee’s torso.

  The crusher patted him on the head. “It is pleasing to see my creator. And it is easier for me to protect Kim Sato and Casmir Dabrowski when they are in the same area.”

  “I aim to make life easier on my bodyguards,” Casmir said, stepping back.

  Asger coughed loudly and throatily. He either objected to the statement or a bird had flown down his throat.

  Bonita and Qin came in last, shutting the door behind them. Bonita locked it. Casmir must have warned her about who else was joining them. Kim wondered if they meant to keep Rache out or ensure the guards didn’t come in and witness his presence. It wasn’t as if he used the front door.

  “This is for you, Kim.” Casmir slid out the chocolate box and handed it to Kim. “And also this.” A second box went on top of the first.

  “Because of your mother’s policy of bringing gifts for the hostess?”

  “Exactly. My mother is a wise woman.”

  “El Mago is especially pleased with her since she sent him clothes today,” Bonita said.

  “El-what?” Kim asked.

  “It’s Laser’s new nickname for me,” Casmir said. “And, yes, while I was shopping for you and Rache—online, of course, as, pending the successful implementation of this plan, I’ll no longer need to appear in public places as bait—my mother was shopping for me. She went to the house, you see, and in addition to being concerned that I hadn’t packed clothing before leaving the planet, she decided that the garden of my wardrobe had been insufficiently tended these past years.”

  “The garden of your wardrobe?” Kim asked. “Did she say that or did you?”

  “She might have said that it looked like a garden had fallen onto my wardrobe. I forgot to do laundry before going to work that morning, and after two months of sitting in a rumpled hamper…”

  “Maybe I’m glad we haven’t been permitted to return to the house.”

  Casmir nodded ruefully. “Oh, and in case she asks… we didn’t have a dinner party tonight without inviting my parents.”

  “Naturally not.”

  “I keep telling her I can’t make it to dinner because I don’t want to endanger them.”

  “Yes, it’s thoughtful of you to save the endangerment for me.”

  He smiled, but anguish flashed in his eyes, and Kim wished she hadn’t made the joke. She knew he regretted that her life had been turned upside down because of her association with him.

  “It’s all right.” Kim hefted her box. “You brought me chocolates, so I can forgive any recent disruption to my routine.”

  “The chocolates are covering espresso beans.”

  “Really?” She lifted the box with keener interest and read the print on the side next to the pictures. “Shade-grown gourmet espresso beans enrobed in rich truffled dark chocolate.”

  “When you said this would be catered,” Bonita said, “enrobed coffee beans wasn’t quite what I imagined.”

  “They’re fantastic,” Casmir said. “You’ll love them. If Kim shares.”

  Kim clutched the box to her chest, thoughts of sharing far from her mind.

  “We might want to use these for dinner.” Casmir gave her the second box. “They’re little espresso cups.”

  “It seems Casmir believes we’ll need to be alert tonight.” Asger was walking around the small apartment and peering into rooms and under furniture.

  Not, Kim realized, examining her belongings—technically, her mother’s belongings—but looking for intruders. Rache.

  “He hasn’t made his appearance yet,” Kim said, walking into the little kitchen. “But someone could open the balcony door for when he does.”

  “The balcony? Is that his natural milieu?” Asger asked. “Like a potted plant?”

  “More like the creeping kudzu at the air harbor on Forever Nine,” Bonita said, “that grows up over your parked freighter and swallows it whole while you’re bartering for supplies.”

  “Who wants a beverage?” Kim called, not wanting Rache to appear as people were insulting him. “There’s water, wine, and fizzop. And I can make coffee.”

  Hopefully, the selection she had ordered sufficed. Casmir had promised to have food delivered, but she’d assumed people would want beverages. She’d never hosted a dinner party and hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was supposed to do beyond ensuring people did not go thirsty or hungry. Having people over for social gatherings was well outside her comfort zone, and she already felt the apartment distressingly full of people.

  She reminded herself that these were all acquaintances, if not outright friends, and she didn’t need to worry about failing to perform adequately in a social capacity. They already knew her, for the most part. And Casmir would likely talk throughout the meal and ensure she didn’t have to carry a conversation.

  “What kind of grown adults drink fizzop?” Asger asked.

  “Short, shifty ones,” Casmir said. “One for me, please, Kim.”

  “I like it too,” Qin admitted so softly Kim almost missed it.

  “Oh.” Asger sounded apologetic, like he’d only meant to tease Casmir.

  Qin shrugged as Kim stepped out with the bottles in hand.

  “My metabolism is fast,” Qin said. “It’s helpful sometimes to drink calorically dense beverages.”

  “And who doesn’t like bubbles tickling their tongue?” Casmir winked.

  As Kim was about to set down the bottles, the curtain stirred, and Rache stepped into the apartment. All in black, including hood, mask, and gloves, he faced Casmir right away, his hand resting on one of two DEW-Tek pistols holstered at his belt.

  Kim tensed, worried he’d only accepted the dinner invitation so he could capture Casmir. She clunked the bottles down, ready to spring at him and try to keep him from firing. Zee also spotted the threat and stomped into place in front of Casmir.

  Everybody stared at Rache. Asger’s face was like a glacier. Bonita’s expression wasn’t any warmer. Qin vacillated between terror and aggression as she gripped the edge of the table, her claws digging into the wood.

  Panic sparked in Kim’s brain as she feared she’d made a huge mistake. She’d invited Rache to dinner and told him Casmir would be there, only because she hadn’t wanted him to feel blindsided by Casmir and whatever scheme he proposed, but she hadn’t made him promise to come in peace. Now she wished she’d emphasized that no weapons would be allowed.

  “Rache!” Casmir stepped out fro
m behind Zee and waved cheerfully. “I’m glad you made it out of that escape pod. I assumed your people would come to collect you, but I wasn’t positive how much they loved you. It could have been an opportune moment for a mutiny. You know, from their perspective.”

  Casmir headed for the bookcase holding the boxes, seemingly oblivious to Rache watching him with his hand on his pistol. Caressing the hilt of his pistol, one might say.

  When Rache didn’t speak, Casmir kept going. “I did feel a little bad about that, even if you forcefully boarded and definitely weren’t invited, and I felt fully within my rights to defend myself. So I picked up a couple of gifts.”

  He ambled over with the two large boxes and a hastily wrapped tube that was on top of the stack, nodding and smiling at Rache, who was like a black statue at his approach.

  “One of these is technically from my mother,” Casmir admitted, unperturbed by the frosty reception. “A re-gift if you will. She had six tubes of underwear sent over today. I don’t know how much room she thinks I have in that little cabin on the Stellar Dragon, but it’s not enough for six tubes of underwear. I don’t know how often space mercenaries get to shop, so I thought you might appreciate them. I think they’re white. Is that all right with your faith? Whatever faith you are.” Casmir waved at Rache’s wardrobe, as if some religion might explain the all-black preference. “It’s not like they would show. The other two gifts, I picked out. An apology, if you will, for me not being super amenable to coming to work for you. You made a legitimate offer, and I may have come across as ungrateful. Sorry about all that.”

  Casmir stopped and thrust the boxes toward the unmoving Rache.

  Qin, Asger, and Bonita were gaping, just as unmoving. Kim was tempted to drop her face into her palm.

  Sweat beaded on Casmir’s forehead, so she could tell he was nervous. Even he didn’t usually babble that much. But she didn’t know if Rache would perceive that or if he would simply think his clone brother was… strange.

  Rache looked in her direction. Not for the first time, Kim wished she could see his face. She wanted to know if he was angry, uptight, or puzzled and trying to figure out how to react.

  “Casmir’s mother’s taste is better than his,” Kim said, deciding that lightness was best for the situation. “I don’t know what’s in those boxes, but you’re probably safe in regard to the tube.”

  Casmir nodded vigorously. “They’re just plain white. I have to buy the ones with rockets on them myself. For special occasions.”

  Rache released his pistol and stuck out his hands, palms up. Casmir smiled and dropped the boxes onto them.

  “I suppose,” Rache said, speaking for the first time, “that since we’re in Scholar Sato’s apartment, I needn’t worry that these boxes will explode and make a mess.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have had to worry about that, regardless.” Casmir scrunched his face. “I don’t want to kill you. I just want for you not to kill me. And I also want you to continue to wish to redeem a favor for Kim. Even though I fully confess that I’m the one who’s asking for the favor, and she thinks this is a bad idea.”

  “I didn’t say that explicitly,” Kim said.

  “Explicitly.” Casmir picked up a bottle of grape fizzop and smiled at her.

  The doorbell rang. Rache looked in that direction like a deer poised to spring. Or a panther poised to spring. Would he avoid being seen? Or leap to attack anyone who saw him, thus to eliminate witnesses?

  “Probably the caterer,” Casmir said. “I’ll get it. Rache, the potted plants need watering, I think?”

  He made a shooing motion toward the balcony.

  Kim, feeling bad about throwing out Rache, even if it seemed a good idea, waved the others to the table and walked out with him.

  “Sorry,” she said as soon as they stepped outside. “Casmir promised to buy the food.”

  Rache had stepped out of sight beside the door. He held up the sloppily wrapped tube. “What could go wrong?”

  “At worst, you’ll get pizza and pot stickers. He won’t actually eat the pot stickers, since they usually have pork in them, so if you like them, it works out well.”

  “Hm.” Rache set the tube on the patio table and lifted the remaining two boxes. They were rectangular, flat, and appeared to have some heft. “These are about the right weight to contain ordnance.”

  “Going by what he said earlier, you’re more likely to be holding comic books.”

  “Comic books?” Rache glanced over his shoulder, though he couldn’t see Casmir from his spot.

  Sensing judgment in the question, Kim said, “About ninety percent of what he reads are technical manuals, research papers, and reports on technical manuals and research papers. He likes fluff for the other ten percent. Though I’m told General Hawkeye Archambault is full of shades of gray and has deep thoughts pondering the treatment of superheroes in society at large.”

  “Ah, superheroes. The overlooked minority.”

  “Yes.”

  As Rache peeled open the end of one package and peered carefully inside, Kim debated if she should try to sway him toward Casmir’s cause. But Casmir was much better at that kind of thing than she was, even if he and Rache weren’t on the best of terms. It wasn’t fair of Rache to blame Casmir for that, when he’d been the antagonist for both incidents.

  “Huh. They do appear to be comic books.” Rache sounded faintly bewildered.

  That a grown man would like comic books? Or that a grown man would give him comic books?

  “Not the type of gift you usually receive?” Kim asked.

  “Ordnance would be more practical.”

  “Casmir is fond of whimsy.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed.” Rache peeked under the wrapping of the second box. “It’s a robot-building kit.”

  “Maybe he thinks you need a hobby.”

  Rache snorted. It almost sounded like a laugh.

  Casmir knocked on the Glasnax door. “Food’s here.”

  Rache waved for Kim to go in first, pausing to scrutinize their surroundings. Looking for drones with cameras? They were certainly a possibility here in the city. Kim realized what a risk he’d taken coming here not once but twice.

  When she stepped inside, she found that people had chosen their own seats rather than sitting where she’d intended. She hadn’t thought to put name cards on the table, since she’d assumed she would be present to direct her guests. She decided it didn’t matter, but when Casmir sat down, her only choice was to sit between Qin and Bonita or Qin and Asger. Kim wondered if Qin had deliberately put herself where she would be able to act against Rache if needed.

  “I hope this will do.” Casmir waved at a huge bowl of salad, a tray of artfully cut vegetables, platters of pâté and toast points, soup in a fancy tureen, a bucket of fried potatoes, and a stack of pizza boxes. It was an almost ludicrous combination of elegant and lowbrow.

  “Are the pizzas for you?” Kim sat between Qin and Bonita.

  “You didn’t think I was going to eat vegetables, did you?” Casmir winked. “But I’m willing to share. Rache, what are your thoughts on beef sausage, garlic, and roasted-pepper toppings?”

  “That nobody will want to kiss you after you consume that.” Rache leaned against a wall without taking a seat. He withdrew some kind of scanner, and a few soft beeps came from it.

  “Well, that wasn’t going to happen anyway. The women at this table are all too mature for me.”

  “I might take that as a slight against my age,” Bonita said, “but you included Qin.”

  “Qin is definitely too mature for me.”

  “I expect most girls over age ten are,” Asger said.

  “Ouch.” Casmir pantomimed Asger’s halberd hacking out his heart. It was a detailed and graphic gesture that made Kim wish she’d sat next to Casmir so she could elbow him when appropriate.

  Kim caught his gaze, raised her eyebrows, and tilted her head toward Rache’s device.

  I think he’s checking for s
py cameras and eavesdropping equipment, Casmir messaged her. Either that, or he’s about to blow us all up.

  Hopefully not before the pizza.

  My thoughts precisely!

  Rache put away the device. “Let’s talk, Dabrowski. What is it you want?”

  Casmir, a piece of pizza in his mouth, lifted his eyebrows. “You don’t want to eat first? And banter more?”

  Rache stared at him.

  “Is it because of your mouth being covered? I ordered soup in case… you know.” Casmir waved at Rache’s mask.

  This time, Kim did drop her face in her hand.

  When Rache continued to stare wordlessly at him, Casmir sighed, pushed his plate forward, and folded his hands on the table. The others continued to eat, looking back and forth between them as if this were dinner theater.

  “The gate I so carefully hid is missing,” Casmir told Rache. “And I mean really missing. The king’s people questioned me under the influence of a truth drug, and I, of course, blathered everything, including precise coordinates. They sent ships to look for it, and it’s gone. I, hoping to get myself out of trouble with the king so I don’t have to flee my home world forever, offered to go find it. Oddly, he didn’t trust me fully.”

  “Fully.” Bonita snorted.

  “He told me I needed to prove myself by finding the Black Stars terrorists and marking their base somehow so knights, Guards, soldiers, and grannies with rolling pins can descend on them and exact revenge.”

  “Prove yourself.” Rache grunted. “If you knew half of what that man had done, you wouldn’t want anything to do with him.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to enlighten us about your experiences with him?” Casmir raised his eyebrows in what Kim guessed was genuine curiosity.

  Rache looked in her direction before saying, “No.”

  Kim didn’t know what to make of that look. Did it imply he would tell her in private if she asked? Or maybe that he wouldn’t share in front of her? Or in front of the women in general? She couldn’t guess.

  “I’m still forming an opinion on him,” Casmir said, “but the terrorists have been trying to kill me for two months, and they bombed a synagogue here in the city and killed thirteen people and sent dozens more to the hospital. They’ve bombed other places where Kingdom citizens congregate. That alone is plenty to make me want to bring them down. And even though you hate Jager and you’ve proven that you’ll kill anyone directly in his employ—”