“The epitome of luxury.” Rache waved toward an empty corner of the cabin. “I used to have a large cushion filled with foam pellets that I read in. My old first officer gave it to me as a gag gift, but it was surprisingly comfortable.”
“Old first officer? So not the bald man we passed on the bridge whose elaborate mustache drooped in shock when I walked toward your cabin with you?”
“No. My old first officer is dead. I haven’t let myself get that close to any of my officers since then. It’s too hard when they die, and in this line of work, death is inevitable.”
“So, it’s better not to have any friends.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Not among the crew. I thought I might be safe befriending a civilian scientist, but she’s also good at putting herself at risk.”
“You’re thinking of Casmir. I keep getting yanked into dangerous situations against my wishes. I would much prefer to be back home working in my lab.” Kim thought of the footage she’d seen of the war. Was that lab still standing? Were her colleagues at work, or had the populace been urged into bunkers? Did bunkers even exist anymore in the city? She remembered touring some of the subterranean safe houses from centuries past, most now forgotten or turned into attractions to be visited by children on school field trips. Many generations had come and gone since a real threat had penetrated System Lion.
“You’re kind not to bring up that I was the one to yank you into one of your first dangerous situations,” Rache said.
“That was rude, but now you’re helping me, and you made me dinner.”
Kim waved to the small table where they’d sat after he invited her up for a meal, scrounging enough greens from the ship’s small hydroponics room to make a salad. It had been smothered in nuts and dried berries and a rich dressing that was fairly impressive given the mostly shelf-stable stores aboard. The main course of Lamb Protein Puck cowering under brown gravy had been less fresh, and he’d apologized that he didn’t have the ingredients to cook her anything, but had promised he made their salads himself.
“I have to add those terms into the equation as I consider my feelings for you,” she added.
“Naturally.” He returned to his drawing.
Kim thought about bringing up his plans again, and maybe trying to change his mind, but she found herself disinclined to nag or wheedle, even if he would only get himself killed on his current course. And she was enjoying sitting here quietly, him drawing and her reading.
“Are you looking for me in there? Or Casmir?” Rache asked without looking up. He’d noticed her choice earlier but hadn’t commented on it.
“I’m looking for…” Even though his tone was neutral and she struggled to read him as much as she struggled with everyone else, she suspected he wanted the answer to be him and not Casmir. But she had picked it up because she’d thought she might give Casmir some advice based on what she found. The book, according to the title page, had been published in System Hesperides, one that Mikita had conquered toward the end of the Kingdom’s expansion, and one that had been among the first to free itself in the centuries that followed. The book’s origins, and the fact that Rache had chosen it for his collection, suggested it a more likely source of unbiased information than most. “The truth,” she finished. “I’m sure you’ve seen the Kingdom’s interpretation of Mikita.”
“Yes. Though I actually read that first. Jager gave it to me.”
That startled her, not that it had been given but that Rache had kept it. “And you haven’t since burned it?”
“It did cross my mind several times. Not to burn it—what kind of troglodyte burns books?—but to abandon it somewhere.”
“When did he give it to you?”
In other words, how long had he known about his famous progenitor?
“When I was thirteen and developing my first rebellious streak. He came to Lichtenberg Manor and told me what he expected from me and what wouldn’t be acceptable. Which was anything except training to become a knight, acing every test put in front of me, and becoming a walking encyclopedia on military matters. Thus to fulfill my role as his loyal general someday.”
“If your tone were any drier, your tongue would spark and catch fire.”
“You can imagine how delighted I was to learn that I’d not only been created to be his pawn but that my future was set in stone.”
“Did it make you rebel more?”
“It made me resent him, but I did as he directed. At thirteen, I didn’t loathe the idea of becoming a great war hero, destined to bring back the former glory of the Kingdom—those were his words—but I did resent all the work. I had little free time. My rebellion was sneaking away to ride my air bike at night and later entering into races. But I did all of the schoolwork, passed all of the tests, memorized the writings and speeches of great knights and admirals of the past.” His tone managed to turn even drier. “After all that, I was delighted to meet Casmir and have him get the best of me twice in a row. Which is, I suppose, three times in a row now, since I have five gate pieces in my hold instead of five hundred, and I’m convinced he was responsible for all those ships showing up.”
Kim knew Casmir had been but didn’t confirm it. Not when Rache already sounded resentful.
“According to this,” she said, “Mikita grew up in a poor family with only his mother and grandmother around to take care of him. He started selling baubles on the street at age eight to bring home money to help feed younger brothers and sisters, and he was determined to enter the military service academy and become an officer and maybe even find a way to become a knight. He believed that was the best way to ensure his family would have a better life. He had medical issues—the specifics aren’t mentioned here—that kept him from being accepted into the military service academy. But he wouldn’t accept that as the final answer, so he found a knight and proved himself over and over to him until he was accepted as a squire. Mikita eventually was also accepted as a knight, and when King Ansel started trying to expand, he was finally permitted to enter the military, where there were numerous opportunities for him to prove himself and gain rank.”
“Is something in that supposed to explain Casmir’s… I was tempted, for the sake of my ego, to call it luck the first time. I don’t think I can at this point.”
“I think his victories, if you want to call them that, have come because of his friendships with others. Wasn’t it Asger returning to help him on that cargo ship that kept you from getting the gate then?”
“Asger and Zee, I suppose.”
“And on the refinery, Bonita and Qin came back for us when we didn’t expect them to.”
“Kim, I have a hundred men that I pay to be loyal and serve me.”
“Which isn’t quite the same as friends who will do anything for you. I won’t deny that he has an unorthodox way of looking at things that probably startles classically trained tacticians—”
Rache snorted.
“—but he’s also good at turning enemies into allies, when he puts his mind to it. When I first met him, I had zero intention of becoming his roommate. I was positive it wouldn’t work out. Yet somehow, after a couple of hours with him, I ended up moving in the next week and never left, even after I could have afforded a posh flat with a view of the ocean.” She twitched a shoulder.
“So his charisma is what’s besting me?” Rache sounded skeptical but not outright dismissive. Maybe he truly wanted to figure this out.
“I’m not sure it’s as much charisma as being genuine with people and wanting to help them with their problems. That tends to come through.” Kim tapped the open page of the book. “I think that you also grew up at a disadvantage.” She smiled, expecting that to goad him a bit.
His brows arched. “Having only the best schooling and tutors and martial arts instructors.”
“Having no adversity to overcome and no reason to be driven to succeed. If this is right, when Mikita was young, he wanted to scrape his way out of poverty. Later, he chanced across Princ
ess Sofia and longed to win her hand in marriage, but he had to prove himself to the king to be able to do so. And so he did, over and over and over. He refused to let obstacles stand in his way. He was driven, not by something so hollow as revenge but by love.”
Rache didn’t snort this time. She’d expected him to laughingly dismiss the power of love. But he appeared more contemplative.
“I didn’t learn until much later that I’d been gene-cleaned and that the original Mikita couldn’t have been. That has made me wonder if something about that has made a difference for me. It’s hard to imagine that a great admiral would have had seizures on the bridge of his flagship, but…” Rache waved his fingers in the air.
“The seizures may be unique to Casmir. This doesn’t mention what Mikita’s medical disabilities were, but there’s usually an epigenetic component in what expresses itself. But yes, I’m sure whatever kept him from originally qualifying for the military was another form of adversity. There are all manner of variations on the ‘that which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger’ quotation, and science backs that up with the well-established concept of hormesis. Casmir probably wouldn’t have created the crushers if he hadn’t been driven earlier in life to build a robot to protect him from bullies in school. I don’t think he’s driven in the way Mikita was, at least not yet, but he’s certainly had to learn to accomplish things in ways that don’t rely on strength, athleticism, money, or beauty.”
“I wonder if the queen had all that in mind when she kept him alive and gave him a simple home.”
“I’ve never met her and don’t know her outside of her media facade. It’s possible she just didn’t want Jager to get rid of the supposedly imperfect baby and felt she owed him a chance at life since she and her husband brought him into the world.” Kim wondered if Casmir would ever get the meeting with the queen that he’d wanted since he’d first become aware of her influence.
Rache tapped his pencil on his sketch pad, gazing off at nothing, and Kim went back to reading.
“You don’t mark up the pages,” she said after a while, noting the unblemished interior. None had even been dog-eared.
“No. Do you?”
“Sometimes I underline passages I want to remember and scribble notes. Not often. I usually read electronic books, so it’s easier to annotate them.”
“I don’t like to leave marks on physical books, especially rare ones.” Rache went to the bookcase and pulled out a notebook. “But I do sometimes take notes when I read. I always feel I remember things better when I write them instead of simply thinking them into my chip’s memory.”
“So do I.”
Rache offered her the notebook. There were sections for many of the books on the shelves, each carefully organized by a table of contents. She started to read his thoughts on the Mikita book, but the door chime interrupted her, ringing shortly, almost uncertainly.
Rache sighed and donned his mask and hood. “I suppose it’s good that you’re not naked.”
“I thought you might request that when you got the sketch pad out. I was prepared to indignantly tell you that women with advanced degrees in the sciences don’t pose naked.”
“No need. I’m capable of using my imagination when drawing.” He handed her the sketch he’d been working on before he headed to the door.
It was indeed a picture of her—she hadn’t wanted to assume, but she’d caught him glancing at her face a couple of times—but instead of being naked or reading in his chair, she was wearing combat armor and kicking an armored man in the gut. She chuckled, but she was secretly touched that he’d been amused by—maybe even pleased by?—that story.
“Sir!” a young officer blurted, glancing behind Rache and looking relieved by the lack of nudity. “There’s an—”
The lights went out, and the thrum of the engines stopped reverberating through the deck. Kim set the sketch pad and books down and rose to her feet. An alarm beeped from the bridge.
“—intruder,” the officer finished grimly.
Rache snatched a DEW-Tek rifle from a rack above his bed.
Casmir, Kim sent a message. You’re not doing anything, are you?
Who, me?
Does that mean yes?
No, I’m in my bunk reading reports.
What about your crushers? she asked as Rache rushed through the briefing room and onto the bridge.
Kim followed him.
Emergency lighting glowed red, and then the main lights came back online, but the thrum of the engines did not return.
“Engineering?” she heard Rache ask someone. “I’m on my way.”
“He’s fighting our men, sir,” an officer said.
“Then I’m definitely on my way.” Rache sprinted for the lift.
Worried that this had to do with one of Casmir’s crushers, Kim raced in and joined him before the doors shut.
“You could have stayed behind,” Rache said. “Unless you seek to practice your side kicks again.”
“Do you know what’s going on? Who’s responsible?”
“Not yet. Do you?”
I checked on them, Casmir messaged. All of my crushers are still in the corridor. But the guard that was keeping an eye on me—and them—disappeared.
Kim shook her head. “I thought one of Casmir’s crushers might have wandered off, but he says not.”
The lift stopped, and the doors opened, revealing shouts and the sounds of weapons fire coming from ahead. Rache charged out with his rifle in hand. He wore his galaxy suit but not armor, and Kim frowned with concern.
If Casmir’s crushers weren’t stirring up trouble, who was? One of Rache’s men? Many of his men? Or some stowaway who wanted to kidnap her? What if Jorg had gotten a spy or saboteur aboard? Or what if someone was hunting down Casmir for Dubashi’s bounty?
Advancing more slowly than Rache, Kim followed the corridor toward engineering. She didn’t know the ship well, but she’d been on this level several times now, first as a prisoner and then as a guest. The shuttle bays were down here, and so was engineering.
More weapons fire sounded, and someone shouted, “I got him!”
A crunch and a boom followed the words.
Smoke poured out of the open doorway to engineering as Rache ran in.
“And he got you,” someone said. “Idiot.”
“I’m wearing armor. He isn’t.”
Footsteps pounded the deck. Kim inched closer until she could peer through the doorway, but she didn’t go inside, not with energy bolts streaking left and right through the smoke. Bangs sounded, and she made out someone springing behind the engine housing for the ship’s main drive. The dark figure must have climbed up the back, for he appeared on the top and sprang off, heading straight toward her.
Kim flattened herself against the wall, glimpsing short dark hair and a bearded face in the smoke. As the man ran toward the exit, Rache appeared behind him, sprinting after him. His prey had a rifle, but it wasn’t pointing at Kim. The man looked like he only wanted to escape.
Kim stepped into his way and kicked him in the chest. He was fast and almost evaded her boot, but she clipped him enough to stop his flight.
As he stumbled back, Kim recognized the bearded face, but Rache caught him around the waist before she could say anything. He tore the rifle away as he hefted the man from his feet and hurled him back into engineering. He flew all the way to a side wall, crunching hard against it.
Rache sprang after him, as did the other mercenaries in engineering.
“Wait!” Kim shouted, rushing into the room. “Wait, please. I know him.”
Rache was kneeling atop the man—atop the ex-knight Tristan—a hand around his throat, but he did pause and look back at her. “You kicked him. That can’t hint of a friendly relationship.”
“No, it does. I met him on the station, and he’s…” If Kim said he was a knight, Rache would kill him without hesitation.
“Who?” Rache asked. “He’s trying to sabotage my ship.”
; Kim licked her lips, lifted her hands and walked slowly toward them, hoping Rache would give her a moment to explain. Though she couldn’t explain Tristan’s presence. Or who he was, not without risking his life. Should she try to lie?
Casmir, she messaged. Hurry down to engineering. The intruder is Tristan, but I’m not sure how to keep Rache from killing him.
Be right there.
“He did sabotage the ship, sir,” one of the engineering officers said, his rifle pointing at Tristan. “We’re on auxiliary power and decelerating. He took the main engine offline. We’re also spewing some kind of gas vapor. Hantz, check on that, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tristan, Kim saw as she inched closer, was conscious, and he looked like he wanted to fight Rache, but there were three other men with weapons aimed at him now. Tristan also wasn’t armored. He was wearing the same green and gray clothes she’d last seen him in at the station.
One of the engineers scurried off to check on the gas leak.
Rache’s fingers were tight in Tristan’s shirt, the collar twisted and his face growing red. Tristan glanced at Kim—it was the only movement he could manage with Rache pinning him down.
“Bridge,” Rache said coolly, “is anyone following us?”
“Prince Jorg’s fleet is about a day behind us,” came a reply over the comm. “It’s not clear if they’re following us or heading to the moon base to crash the meeting.”
“How many ships are there?” Rache asked.
“All of the ones Prince Jorg has managed to get on his side, it looks like. His ship, four Kingdom Fleet warships, and about a dozen smaller ships with weapons. They’ll catch up with us quickly if we keep decelerating.”
“We won’t,” Rache said. “Hantz and Rigger are on it.”
He nodded toward one of the men pointing his weapon at Tristan, and the officer slung it over his shoulder and joined his comrade who was already checking the damage.
“Kim.” Rache sounded like he was struggling to keep the cold out of his tone when he addressed her. “Who is this guy, where did he come from, and why am I not breaking his neck this very second?”
Planet Killer (Star Kingdom Book 6) Page 35
