His mouth twisted with distaste at the idea of doing nothing. What if these people were a threat to the entire station? Could they access environmental controls from that room?
“That’s what I would advise.” Kim twitched an eyebrow. “Odds are poor that you’ll do that.”
Casmir issued a lopsided smile. “Yeah.” He patted Zee on the back. “Go subdue those people, please. Don’t kill anyone. Just disarm them and… er, how can we keep six people from escaping?”
“Zee could turn into a couch and block the door,” Kim suggested.
Zee looked at them. “I will use my initiative.”
He strode out.
“I don’t think he’s willing to turn himself into furniture under any circumstances,” Kim said.
“Possibly true.” Casmir started to step out of the cell, but Kim grabbed his shoulder.
“Let him take care of them. We’ll come after, find our galaxy suits, and sneak out.”
“There are six of them, and they’re armed. Even Zee may find that challenging if they have explosives.”
“And how would you help?” She waved up and down his underwear-clad form. She wasn’t much more clothed than he.
“I could call in some robots.”
“You can do that from here.”
Casmir hated sending Zee into danger while he cowered in the background, but he nodded acknowledgment. “True.”
“Someone’s coming from the cells,” a man barked.
“Get the gas!”
Gas? What kind of gas?
Casmir hoped they would realize Zee wasn’t human and couldn’t be affected. But he, Kim, and the other people locked up could be.
Clanks sounded, at least two items hitting the floor further up the corridor, and a cacophony of chaos erupted. Bangs, thumps, yells, and cries of pain. Then the weapons fire started.
Casmir leaned out into the corridor. Through the exit doorway, he could see bodies flying across the control room, along with the orange and red of DEW-Tek bolts streaking about. But closer, between two cells in the corridor, a pair of canisters spewed out visible smoke. The door to the control room closed, ensuring it would be confined to the cells.
“Yellow-green gas,” he whispered, the first hints of a sweet cloying scent reaching his nose. “Any idea what it is?”
“Nothing we want to inhale. Hold your breath, run past, and hope we can get out.”
Before Casmir could warn her that the door was closed, Kim sprinted past him, toward the canisters. He took a deep breath of what he hoped was still clean air at the back of the cell and ran after her. Kim kicked the canisters farther down the corridor and sprang for the door.
As Casmir scurried to join her, jumping over one of the canisters skidding past, hands reached through bars, and one man almost caught him.
“Let us out too,” someone implored.
“What is that stuff?” someone else asked, someone who’d been close to where the canisters first landed. The words were followed by a pained retching sound.
Kim batted at a wall sensor, but the door didn’t open. There weren’t controls on this side.
With his lungs already starting to ache from holding his breath, Casmir accessed the wireless security network and searched for controls that would release them. Kim banged on the door.
Casmir found the controls. Before he could override the lock, a black fist slammed through the door like a pile driver. Zee grabbed the warped metal, tore the door from its mount, and hurled it across the room at a man firing at him.
An alarm flashed across Casmir’s contact. Door inoperable.
No kidding. And now they wouldn’t be able to close it again to cut off the smoke—the sickly stuff oozed into the control room.
Kim sprinted through the haze to the door on the other side. It opened without hesitation. Casmir, lungs burning, raced after Kim, springing over an unconscious man—or a body?—on the floor.
Tears streaked down his cheeks, and snot tumbled from his nose. Whatever that gas was, it was more than a sedative.
He made himself wait until he was in the outer corridor before gasping in a breath of air. But he must have caught too much of the smoke. His stomach spasmed, and he bent over, heaving its contents on the floor.
Just when he’d thought he might be cured of throwing up in space…
Next to him, Kim also bent over and threw up. More retching came from within the control room, though the sounds of fighting were dying out.
“What’s going on?” demanded a male voice from a few meters down the corridor.
“I’m not sure, Sultan,” a woman said.
Casmir dragged his bare arm across his eyes, aware that he was still in his underwear, and stared blearily into the muzzle of a rifle. It was one of four pointed at him. Four firearms held by four grim-faced guards. Behind them stood Assistant Chief Gokhale and a man Casmir recognized only because he’d spied on his conference call.
“Oh, good,” Casmir said, forcing himself to look past the weapons to the assistant chief. He wiped his mouth and smiled. “You’ve arranged my meeting.”
Nobody smiled back. Casmir hoped station policy was to not shoot people in their underwear.
Next to him, Kim recovered enough to straighten and raise her hands. Casmir slowly did the same, realizing he had no way to explain any of this. What if he and Kim were mistaken for allies of the men who’d broken in to do… whatever they’d been doing? If Zee had knocked them all out, the security officers might not be able to tell. Or question anyone except Casmir and Kim.
Qin’s nose wrinkled as she followed Asger through carpeted and silk-lined corridors, most of them dimmed for the night cycle. Far more artificial odors than usual for a space station lingered in the air, stirred about but not largely diminished by the ventilation system. She identified more scents of perfumes, incense, and aromatic oils in burners than she’d known existed, nearly drowning out more pleasant smells from potted hibiscus and bougainvillea growing along trellises mounted to the walls.
She resisted the urge to pause and sniff a few of the flowers as a palate cleanser—nostril cleanser—to all the incense. Mostly because Asger might find it silly if his fearsome cat-woman ally stopped to smell the plants.
“This way, ma’am,” Asger said, waving to Qin when a servant in a uniform identical to one he’d purloined as soon as they made it into the palace passed down their corridor. “We’re almost to your meeting.”
The servant frowned at him, then gawked at Qin, but he continued past without trying to stop them. He was fifteen or sixteen, perhaps too young to worry about intruders even if he identified them as such.
So far, the ruse had worked on a couple of servants, but Asger and Qin had been forced to stun three others, who were now locked in rooms and closets, gagged and tied.
Asger continued to wear a determined face, not showing his worries, but he had to be concerned about getting caught before they could complete his task, free Casmir and Kim, and return to the Dragon to get away from the station before Bjarke arrived. It was a daunting to-do list.
Qin thought it inevitable that one of those people would free themselves or that a security camera would catch them and some monitoring officer would identify them as the intruders they were. She could hardly believe they’d not only made it into the palace end of the station but were approaching one of the lifts that led to the royal suites.
But when they turned into the hallway that held it, two alert guards stood in front of the lift, wearing scimitars, batons, and stunners. And, unlike everyone else they’d encountered, they were clad in combat armor.
Asger’s uniform didn’t keep them from recognizing that he didn’t belong. They lifted the stunners.
Qin snapped her helmet on and charged past him—she was wearing her armor and he wasn’t—and sprang at them. They fired the stunners. Their blue nimbuses flashed before her faceplate but did nothing to stop her. One grabbed his baton, but the second man leaped at her, roaring like a l
ion.
She blocked a combination of punches that he launched at her chest and face, then smashed a punch of her own into his torso. He half-blocked it, but she was too strong, and his defense failed. He stumbled backward as his comrade lunged at her with the metal baton in hand.
He never reached her. Asger had raced up beside her, and he managed to bowl the man over, despite his lack of armor. They tumbled to the carpet, grappling on top of the blue shag.
“Security alert,” Qin’s foe started. “We’ve got intruders in—”
She grabbed him and smashed him into a wall. Silks tumbled down, metal dented, and his words turned into a grunt. But it might be too late.
Qin threw him against another wall. She didn’t want to hurt people, but when they were armored and couldn’t be stunned, there was little choice. Protected, the man wasn’t seriously wounded by the hard blows, and he jumped to his feet. She lunged at him again, this time latching onto his helmet. She twisted it hard, her claws trying to extend inside her gauntlets, and a snap echoed in the corridor. The seal broke.
Even as he punched her in her unguarded chest—she barely felt it through her armor—she ripped his helmet off. Now, she could use her stunner. But she’d dropped it in the scramble. She cracked her faceplate against his forehead, trying not to use so much force that it would break his skull, then jumped back. As she whirled to look for her stunner, someone else fired.
Asger. His stunner nimbus struck the man squarely in the now-unprotected head, and he crumpled.
At first, Qin wondered how Asger had defeated an armored foe when he was in the servant’s costume, but then she spotted the man lunging at his back. Asger sprang to the side, barely missing a punch that could have knocked his head off.
Qin snarled and rammed into the man, throwing a palm strike that smashed into his faceplate. She ripped his helmet off as she’d done with the other man, and Asger’s stunner fire landed an instant later.
“Good work.” He rushed to the lift. “Remind me to put my armor back on when we get a chance.”
“Maybe you can change in the lift.”
Asger tapped at the controls, but the doors did not open. They required a retina scan.
He eyed the unconscious men. Qin planted her hands on the doors and pushed and pulled. Metal squealed as she forced them apart.
Asger stuck his head inside, looking for the car. Wherever it was, it wasn’t on their floor.
“Maybe not.” He took his pack off, pulled out his armor, and started changing on the spot.
Qin waved at doors along the corridor until she found one that wasn’t secured. She dragged the unconscious men into someone’s empty quarters. There probably wasn’t any point—she assumed that security had been alerted and reinforcements were on the way. But Asger needed time to change. By the time she had them stashed away, he wore his silver liquid armor, his pertundo on his belt. No more pretenses. He led the way into the dark lift shaft, finding narrow rails that they could climb up.
“I recently did this with your father,” Qin said as she followed him up, trusting he knew which level they wanted.
“Beat people up and climb a lift shaft?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose he did it more nobly and bravely and effectively than I.”
“Actually, he complained a lot.”
“Really?” Asger sounded startled.
“Really.”
A wrenching sound came from above, and light slashed into the shaft. With his armor on, Asger could also force open doors. He jumped out, landing softly on another carpet.
When Qin pulled herself out after him, she was surprised there weren’t guards waiting. Asger had landed in a fighting crouch, so he must have expected that too.
“Maybe the security chief is in bed.” Asger ran off down the empty corridor.
The doors were spaced farther apart here, set back in alcoves with pillars draped with colorful banners marking them as special. Sophisticated lock panels and cameras were set into the walls of the alcoves. Were these the royal suites?
Vining flowers also wrapped some of the pillars, soil-filled planters built into their bases, and Qin couldn’t help but pause to touch a particularly fragrant purple trumpet. What kind of flower was it? More than once, she’d thought about planting a few flowers in her cabin on the Dragon, but she feared they wouldn’t do well in the gravity shifts, including occasional zero-g time. She inhaled deeply, then rushed to catch up with Asger.
He was looking over his shoulder, and she blushed, hoping he hadn’t caught her sniffing. What a silly time to admire the flowers. It wasn’t as if it was real nature.
“We’re almost there,” Asger said.
“Good.”
Qin continued to be surprised that she and Asger had gotten this far. Where was the rest of the station’s security?
Asger turned into an alcove and faced a sturdy door with some winged mythological creature engraved in it. Qin squeezed in next to him.
“Are we ripping this one open too?” she asked.
The engraving was beautiful. It would be a shame to destroy something that appeared handmade, but they couldn’t have much time.
“I don’t want to startle another man with knight’s training.” Asger touched his pertundo on his belt, hesitated, then grabbed his stunner and rang the door chime.
Qin stared at him, incredulous. They’d sneaked and fought their way up here, and he rang the doorbell?
Several seconds passed before Qin heard voices on the opposite side of the door. They were barely audible, even to her keen ears, and she couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it sounded like a man and woman.
Qin assumed they wouldn’t answer—what crazy person would look at the camera display, see two warriors in combat armor, and open the door?—and was about to warn Asger that they might be calling for security. Then the door opened.
A handsome, well-built man with a short beard stood inside, holding a towel around his waist with one hand and gripping a pertundo with the other.
Asger stared for a few seconds, then waved at the bare chest. “I see body-guarding works differently here than in the Kingdom.”
The man looked at Asger’s stunner. “If you shoot me, my towel will fall off.” His voice was deadpan and unconcerned.
“I’d rather not see that.” Asger lowered the stunner.
“I thought not.”
A beautiful, dark-haired, bronze-skinned woman in a robe came up behind the man and peered around his shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”
The man raised his eyebrows. “Even if I’m unconscious and flaccid?”
“Flaccid?” she asked. “That would be disappointing.”
“Are my services needed?” another woman spoke from somewhere to the side of what looked like a grand foyer. Or did that flat voice belong to an android?
“I don’t think so, Devi,” the dark-haired woman said, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I believe this is… an acquaintance of Tristan’s.”
“Like Prince Jorg was an acquaintance of Tristan’s?” Devi asked.
Asger and Tristan both shook their heads.
Qin found everyone’s calmness surreal. It was as if they had been invited up here rather than fighting their way.
“I need to talk to you, Tristan. And, ah—” Asger glanced at the woman next to him, “—if you have sway and can halt the security alert that is no doubt in progress, we would appreciate that. We had to fight a couple of guards to get here. We tried not to hurt anyone badly.”
Tristan raised his eyebrows, and the woman frowned.
“Why didn’t you comm me?” Tristan asked.
“I don’t have your contact information.”
“So you beat up the palace guards?” the woman asked.
Asger spread his hands. “That wasn’t my first choice, but as soon as I stepped foot off our ship, your security android tried to arrest me. It seems the Kingdom isn’t welcome here right now.”
“That is true.” Tristan turned toward the woman. “Asger is a peer, Nalini. Would you mind calling off security?” He glanced toward the corridor. “Even though it doesn’t sound like anyone is on the way.”
The woman’s eyes grew unfocused as she accessed her chip. Then she shook her head. “There isn’t an alert. I don’t see anything about anyone coming.”
Asger frowned. “How is that possible?” He looked at Qin. “I heard that guard sending a message.”
Qin shrugged. This was the most bewildering infiltration she’d been on.
“Maybe they’re busy with something else.” Tristan’s expression grew grim. “Come in.” He waved to them. “What brings you here, Asger and… friend?” He squinted at Qin.
She braced herself, surprised the word friend hadn’t been freak since this was someone from the Kingdom.
“This is my friend, Qin,” Asger said.
She was glad to be acknowledged as a friend but couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be introduced as something more intimate.
“And I have orders to collect your pertundo.”
12
“Which one of you is Professor Dabrowski?” the only man in civilian clothes asked. He looked to be in his sixties or seventies and wore flowing golden robes, matching slippers, and a white turban.
“The shifty one, Your Highness,” Assistant Chief Gokhale said.
Casmir blinked innocently and pointed an inquiring finger at his own chest.
It slowly dawned on Kim that this was the sultan. Should she let Casmir do the talking—he’d been the one angling for a meeting—or try to explain what had happened?
Since all of the rifles and glowers were pointing at Casmir’s chest—why was it that people always assumed a man was a greater threat than a woman?—Kim decided to speak first.
“This is Professor Dabrowski, and I’m Scholar Sato. We were arrested when we arrived on your station—for no reason, as far as I can tell, except that we are Kingdom subjects. Something was going on in your control center, and some idiot threw gas into the detention cells—” Kim made a point of sniffing loudly and wiping her eyes, “—so we ran out.”
Planet Killer (Star Kingdom Book 6) Page 15
