Crossfire (Star Kingdom Book 4)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “The crew of the other ship wouldn’t really let us die due to some possible risk from a computer virus, would they?” Kim asked.

  “I’m hoping not, but I don’t know. That was some virus. It took us out in less than a minute.” Asger shifted to lean against the counter next to her. “I’m guessing they’ll risk sending some shuttles. But it’ll take time if they have to force their way aboard because there’s no power to open the shuttle-bay doors or airlock hatches. And then there’s going to be a limit to how many people they can take off the ship at once. I hope Ishii won’t do something stupid like go down with his ship. Though I’d understand if he did.”

  Kim stirred in surprise. “Why?”

  “He said he got chewed out for losing the gate. So did I, so I can imagine how it went for him. If he then lost his ship… It’s not like a warship is inexpensive for the government to make. At a minimum, he’d lose his career. If not his family’s nobility.”

  Kim would have laughed at the idea of the latter being anything to commit suicide over, but Asger sounded deadly serious. “I don’t think that’s happened for a long time.”

  “A couple hundred years, but there are precedents. If you screw up big time, you can screw up for your whole family.”

  Kim didn’t know what to say. Beyond a hint of research for her thriller novel, she hadn’t spent a lot of time studying the nobility and didn’t know all the rules.

  “If Casmir and the captain’s best programmer are over on that shuttle,” she said, “the odds seem to be in favor of them figuring out a solution, especially to a computer virus.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Asger dropped his hand to his pertundo, as if he might draw it and slay some enemy, but he released it. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Me too.” Kim might not understand what it meant to be a part of the nobility, but she definitely understood the distress of feeling useless.

  She wondered if Rache and his mercenaries were anywhere nearby. He hadn’t told her where he was heading off to when he’d left Odin, but she assumed he still wanted the gate. Or more accurately, wanted to ensure that King Jager didn’t get the gate.

  A chill went through her as she wondered if it was possible that he’d sent the virus. Could the Fedallah be lurking out there under its slydar hull, positioned to make sure Ishii didn’t get the clue that would lead him to the gate first?

  She shook her head, not wanting to believe he would ruthlessly sacrifice Casmir for that. Or her. He seemed to like her. Who sacrificed someone they were trying to arrange a dinner date with?

  Besides, if he had such a computer virus, wouldn’t he have used it before? He could have sent it over to the cargo ship and knocked out all of its power instead of sending a team that Casmir’s robots ultimately overcame.

  Sorry, Casmir messaged. Everything is fine here. I just had a hiccup in my surgery.

  Surgery? Kim asked.

  Android surgery. I’m giving Tork a new hand and—hm, I have an idea.

  He didn’t add anything else. Kim and Asger exchanged looks.

  “An idea?” Asger asked. “Should we be concerned?”

  “Yes.”

  Casmir finished attaching Tork’s hand while Grunburg alternated between hunting through the comm system, trying to isolate the virus they believed the android had sent, and poking around in his hard drives. Casmir was tempted to ask Grunburg to step aside so he could take a look, but he didn’t know if he’d find anything the lieutenant couldn’t. And he was contemplating an idea percolating through his mind.

  “There’s no sign of the file the shuttle transmitted in the comm system’s memory bank,” Grunburg said, returning to the worktable. “It’s got to be in him somewhere.”

  “You haven’t found anything on his drives?”

  “Nothing obvious, but it’s like sifting through a desert’s worth of sand.”

  Casmir nodded. “I’ve been thinking about this. Logically, he would be the best one to find it.” Casmir pointed at Tork, then stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the CPU he had removed earlier. “We believe this virus was created by an astroshaman, and he is an astroshaman android. Technically, he’s an alpha model of a Tork-57, and the Torks are manufactured in several factories around the systems—I found his schematics on the network—but he has some enhancements that aren’t standard. I’ve seen that while tinkering around to attach the new hand. I assume the astroshamans did some upgrades to him, just as they did to that cargo ship with the stealth generator. Putting all that aside, he’s the vehicle for carrying the virus. He should know it well.”

  Grunburg blew out a slow breath. “We run the risk of him further sabotaging us if we turn the power back on. Or he’ll attack us outright again.” He glanced up to where Zee had once again positioned himself with his back to the ceiling, staring straight down at the worktable and its occupant. “Though I guess that’s less likely to be a problem.”

  “Zee can immobilize him effectively, yes. But I’m hoping we can convince him to help us.”

  “How? It’s not like you can torture an android into giving up information.”

  “No, but maybe we can rationally argue that it’s in his best interest to do so.”

  Grunburg’s forehead crinkled. “Is it? It’s not like he’s going to be harboring some resentment toward his owner, or whoever did that.”

  Casmir wasn’t so sure about that, but he only said, “If he becomes our ally instead of our enemy, he may consider it ideal to help us.”

  “I think we’d have to wipe his memory and program him from scratch to convince him of that. But if we wipe his memory, we wipe the virus, and we’ll never be able to figure out an antivirus program in time, not without the original to study.”

  “Let me try putting his CPU back in and having a chat with him.” Casmir held up the chip between thumb and forefinger.

  He expected more of an argument, but Grunburg sighed. “Let me double-check the straps first.”

  Casmir nodded. He didn’t want Tork to escape and cause trouble any more than Grunburg did. He wouldn’t have tried powering him up again if not for Zee’s presence.

  “Go ahead.” Grunburg removed his cables and pushed himself back from the table.

  Casmir slipped the CPU back into its socket. He also pushed himself back, not sure if Tork would immediately go on the offensive again—or try.

  A soft beep came from the scanner monitoring the android. Tork was online. But he didn’t open his eyes, didn’t move at all.

  Long seconds passed. Grunburg pushed himself closer to take a look.

  Casmir lifted a hand, a warning on the tip of his tongue, but he was too late. The straps holding the android snapped, and Tork lurched upright.

  Casmir tried to scramble backward and get out of Zee’s way. He crashed into the built-in drawers behind him. Tork sprang not at him but at Grunburg, knocking him into the hull, his helmet cracking against it.

  An instant later, Zee reached Tork and grabbed him. But the android did his best to ignore Zee, shoving himself toward the airlock hatch, as if he was trying to escape. Maybe he was trying to escape.

  “The mission has been completed,” Tork said in a robotic tone. “The unit must be destroyed.”

  Zee pinned his arms so he couldn’t reach for the hatch, but Tork fought back. He bucked and twisted, even kicking Zee. But Zee was stronger and forced the android back to the worktable, pushing off the hull and deck wherever he could to gain leverage.

  “Tork-57,” Casmir called, pushing himself farther toward the rear to avoid their flailing limbs. “Tork-57, I need to talk to you. Do you remember me?”

  He would have preferred to communicate with the android through a computer interface and was surprised when Tork paused struggling and twisted his neck to look back at him. Zee shoved him against the table, pinning him.

  “You are Casmir Dabrowski, roboticist,” Tork announced.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I brought
you to my handlers because I believed you could repair them, and you tricked me, powered me down, and took over the ship.”

  “Uhm, yes, that’s also right.”

  Grunburg groaned, bringing a hand to the side of his helmet. He was floating in a crumpled ball near the hull.

  “But I didn’t want to trick you.” Casmir met Tork’s eyes, focusing on him and hoping Grunburg would be all right. “I’d been hoping to negotiate with your handlers when I came aboard. I didn’t know they were dead. There was nothing I could do to bring dead humans back to life. There was nothing wrong with their interface pods. It was their human bodies that had been affected by the pseudo radiation from the gate pieces you gathered. It doesn’t bother machines or androids in a significant way, but it’s deadly to humans after a few days of exposure.”

  Tork stared at him. “You are not dead, and you were exposed.”

  Casmir didn’t want to attempt to explain his immunity, so all he said was, “Because my friend on that warship over there, a bacteriologist, found a way to heal people of the cellular damage. But it only works if they’re still alive when she gets to them. Even if she’d been with me on your cargo ship that day, there wouldn’t have been anything she could do for your handlers. That any of us could have done.” Casmir lowered his voice. “There was nothing you could do to save them either.”

  He knew Tork wouldn’t have feelings like guilt, not in the traditional human sense, but he also knew that androids were usually programmed with a desire to complete their duties. He guessed that Tork might have a sense of having failed and that he might regret that in some way.

  “I tried to save them,” Tork stated. “It is my duty—was my duty—to protect my handlers and oversee the ship on the mission.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry we couldn’t save them. I would have preferred to negotiate for the gate pieces, rather than simply take them.” Casmir lowered his voice and, concerned that Grunburg wasn’t moving, whispered, “Grunburg? Are you all right?”

  The pained grunt that came back was not that reassuring.

  “My handlers would not have given them to you. They need them. It was my duty to stop you from following the cargo ship home, and I have succeeded.” Tork’s head turned to look past Zee, who still had him pinned to the sturdy worktable, and toward the forward display where part of the Osprey was visible.

  “What did you do?” Casmir asked quietly, silently ordering his chip to record the conversation.

  This was their first proof that Tork had been responsible.

  “I did nothing, but the subroutine ran. I am aware of this, even though I was…” Tork looked at him again. “You removed my CPU.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you put it back in?”

  “I want to work with you.” Casmir suspected honesty would go further than treachery, especially since he had already tricked Tork-57 once, or tried to. The android would be wary. “It looks like someone got cranky with you for losing that cargo ship, however temporarily, and decided to sacrifice you to make sure you took out any Kingdom people trying to follow him—or is it a her?—back.” Casmir had a hard time imagining a woman lopping off an android’s hand, but he supposed Qin wouldn’t hesitate if it attacked her. He didn’t believe she would do it out of spite though. Or to teach an android a lesson.

  “I failed my original mission,” Tork said. “This was an opportunity to correct that mistake.”

  “By sacrificing yourself? That’s impractical. If the model information I looked up is correct, you’re only two years old. In the Kingdom, quality androids are valued at forty to fifty thousand crowns.”

  “I am precisely two years old. And I am a quality android.”

  “An alpha edition is top of the line,” Casmir said.

  “It is. I am.” Tork tilted his head. “Do you believe flattery will make me more inclined to do as you wish?”

  “I’m simply stating facts. It seems pointless to sacrifice you. Didn’t the astroshamans have a dishpan they could have thrown out the airlock with the explosive stuck to it instead of an expensive android?”

  “You would not have stopped to pick up a dishpan.”

  “I would have if it was a particularly intriguing one. Or if there were comic book superheroes painted on it.” Casmir didn’t know if such things existed, but they definitely should.

  “You seek to use humor on an android? All robots are ruled by logic, not laughter.”

  “Are you sure? Zee is only a couple of months old, and he makes jokes. I expect he’ll be letting out guffaws after another couple of months of hanging around me.”

  “What is Zee?”

  Zee tightened his grip on Tork. Casmir wasn’t sure if it was because the android tried to move or if he was making a point.

  “That is Zee. My bodyguard, golem, and friend.” Casmir smiled.

  “Humans and robots are not friends. Robots serve humans, as I served my handlers.”

  “Until they had no further need for you. I’m not going to let you destroy yourself, so why don’t you come work for me?”

  Tork looked toward the hatch he’d failed to fling himself out. “I am your prisoner, not your employee.”

  “Maybe now, but you can have the choice. Zee, let him go, please.”

  “That would be unwise, Casmir Dabrowski.”

  “I know, but you can capture him again if he tries to kill me.”

  “Or me,” Grunburg grumbled, his helmet still leaning against the hull. “Professor, the Osprey has limited time.”

  “I know.” Casmir waved at the arms locked around Tork. “Zee, please let him go.”

  “Unwise,” Zee repeated, but he released the android and stepped back.

  Casmir shifted to put the table between himself and Tork in case he attacked.

  “You say please to robots,” Tork said. “Even to robots that do not contain human consciousnesses?”

  “Yes. Like I said, Zee is my bodyguard and friend.”

  Tork looked down at his new hand. For a few seconds, he simply stared at it, and Casmir imagined him checking his wiring and rerouting signals to complete the installation. Since Tork had been powered down, Casmir hadn’t done that part yet.

  “This is a new hand.” Tork curled the fingers, then extended them one at a time and wiggled them, checking functionality. “My old hand was severed.”

  “So I saw. What severed it? A sword?”

  Tork curled the fingers again but did not reply.

  Casmir glanced at the display and thought the Osprey had dipped lower than it had been before. A sign of its orbit deteriorating already?

  “I researched you briefly when you first contacted the cargo ship,” Tork said. “I learned you were a roboticist.”

  “Yes.” Casmir hoped this was going in a positive direction, but it was possible he was deluding himself.

  “It was a superficial search. I did not have time to go into more depth. The cargo ship was engaged in battle.”

  “I remember.”

  “I am doing a more in-depth search now.” Tork swiveled his head, more like an owl than the human he was designed to emulate. He looked at Zee, who still stood behind him, close enough to grab him if he tried anything.

  “All right.” Casmir tried not to sound wary.

  What besides his profession could interest an android from another system?

  “You have a reputation, Professor Dabrowski,” Tork said.

  “I suppose that’s inevitable after thirty-three years.” Casmir didn’t know if he should ask what this reputation was. It would depend on what Tork was looking at. Commentary on his academic publications? Gossip about him on the university network? Or from the scientific community at large?

  “What would you offer in exchange for my services?”

  “What do you want? Not money, I assume.” Though Casmir would try to get the android some if he wanted it.

  “The freedom to work on my astronomy project—I had a telescope on my first duty sta
tion, and I was cataloging all the rogue planets that have strayed from their stars and attempting to locate more. Did you know that no significant astronomic finds have been discovered by androids?”

  “I did not. Many have been found by computers.”

  “Computers are mindless automatons. Nothing compared to a Tork-57 alpha model that must balance his hobbies with his duties for his human handlers. I am more akin to a human than a computer.”

  “I won’t argue that.” Casmir would have scratched his head if he hadn’t been wearing a helmet. “I’ll be happy to get you a telescope and give you time off to pursue your hobby. All the hours when I’m sleeping or don’t need you for a specific task. But the first task I need you to perform may be difficult for you, since it would go against your former handlers’ wishes. I need you to search your drives for the virus you sent to that warship. We need to isolate it and create an antivirus program to knock it out.”

  “My handlers ordered me to sacrifice myself by blowing myself up along with the Kingdom soldiers attempting to hunt down the cargo ship. Should that fail, I was ordered to self-destruct. I failed at throwing myself out the airlock to slowly tumble down and crash on that moon. My programming ends at that point.”

  “Then it’s time for you to start your new life as an amateur astronomer and valued assistant. You can program your own future. And if you want, I can find a way to compensate you for any work you do for me.”

  “Do you compensate the thuggish brute behind me for his work?” Tork gave Zee another look, more of a disdainful glance this time.

  “No. I built him.”

  “So you consider him yours.”

  Casmir answered carefully, worried Tork was setting a trap for him. “Zee has been good enough to join me on my quest and protect me. He is too intelligent for me to own, like a thing. If he developed an interest in pursuing some other work, I would feel compelled to let him go.”