“You can take the whole thing. It’s ugly.”
“Yeah, take the whole thing,” the navigation officer said. “He’ll never get a woman to sleep with him with that thing leering at her from his arm.”
“My mole is still better looking than your face, you ass.” Neimanhaus gave his comrade a screw-you finger gesture that would have been more effective if he weren’t still twisting his arm at an awkward angle for the exam. He turned to face Yas with urgent eyes. “Doc, I can’t die from cancer. I want to go out in a big battle where I save everyone’s lives.”
“Noble.” Yas drew a tiny sample and stuck it in his portable examiner, the computer humming to life to analyze the tissue.
“We’ve located the node,” Rache’s voice came over the comm. It was easy to pick him out on the ice, even though everyone wore the same black combat armor. He was shorter than the other men and also pointing into the water. “The ice is thinner in this polar area than on most of the moon, but the node is still hundreds of meters below the surface here. We’re reading cables running from it in two directions. They look like power cables, so there’s probably a fusion generator down there, unless the astroshamans are using the geothermal vents for energy. It’s possible we could follow those cables to their base.”
Rache walked along the edge of the water, adjusting his scanner.
“I’m still trying to find proof that there is a base,” he added dryly. “The ice blocks our readings, which I’m sure is why they might have chosen this spot.”
“Sounds like the submarines are our best bet, sir,” someone else on the channel said.
As Rache walked farther, the gap in the ice widened. It still wasn’t large enough that a substantial ship could fly into it, but Yas didn’t think there were any spaceships with amphibious capabilities, anyway.
Rache knelt close to the edge, running a black-gloved hand along the ice. He shifted back a few feet away and crouched to study something else on the frozen shelf.
“It looks like a ship landed here, or maybe some big machinery was brought up,” Rache mused aloud. “A crane? There are fresh scrape marks along the edge there, like something large was lowered down.” He shifted to examine different locations along the edge of the shelf. Rare excitement crept into his voice as he added, “A lot of somethings.”
“The gate pieces?” Corporal Chaplain asked, his flat voice easy to recognize. “Are they waterproof?”
Rache snorted. “I hope so. Or I hope the astroshamans had time to wrap them with something protective.”
Yas hadn’t yet seen the gate pieces himself, which seemed unfair since he’d been exposed to the pseudo radiation and almost died from it, but he knew from seeing the live gates in the network that the pieces had to be huge. He imagined them wrapped in the insulating and protective molds that some of his medications were shipped in. Or maybe bubble wrap.
“Captain,” Yas said, a new thought popping into his mind, “I want to point out that we don’t know exactly how far that pseudo radiation can go or how close people need to be to the gates to activate its defenses. If that base isn’t that far from you… I still have some of Scholar Sato’s bacteria, but we would have to return to a more advanced medical facility to treat anyone if they were exposed.”
“I think we’d get energy readings from the astroshamans’ base if we were anywhere close to it,” Rache said, “but I concede your point. Neimanhaus, how far away are those Kingdom ships now?”
“Er.” Neimanhaus had been squinting at Yas’s examiner, waiting for the results, but he spun back to his station. “Less than a day, but it doesn’t look like they’re angling for this moon.”
“No?” Rache’s head came up, like a dog sniffing the wind. “Did their clues lead them to some other destination?”
Maybe it was Yas’s imagination, but Rache seemed to sound disappointed. Did he want a battle with four Kingdom warships? Did he think he could best them and leave their wreckage scattered across the ice? Thus far, he’d been fairly prudent about avoiding battles if the odds were against him or there was nothing to be gained, but who knew what went through the man’s head?
“They’re on course for Tiamat Station,” Neimanhaus said.
“They may already know they need submarines. Unless there’s something going on at Tiamat this week. Someone check the news feeds.” Rache turned back toward the shuttle, waving for his men to return as well.
Neimanhaus’s fingers darted across his console, though he glanced several times at his elbow and at Yas’s examiner as he worked. News feeds scrolled down a display in front of him. Wanting to put him out of his misery, Yas focused on his tissue analysis instead of the news. Until Neimanhaus whistled and spoke again.
“Looks like there’s a big kerfuffle at Tiamat Station, sir. Civil war, some reporters are calling it. Rumored to be dozens killed so far and hundreds injured.”
“What?” Yas fumbled the medical device, almost dropping it.
Civil war? In his home? And people dead?
His parents were there. His old colleagues. Fear clashed with regret in his gut. He should have contacted his parents and let them know what was going on. He hadn’t wanted them to be implicated in his crime, or accused of aiding him. And, he cowardly admitted, he had been afraid they would believe the reports that he’d killed the president—the former president. This new president who was buddy-buddy with the Kingdom was the reason for all this. Former Vice President Chronis. Yas wanted to strangle him.
“Looks true,” Neimanhaus said. “Lots of different reports from around the system, and look at this sexy blonde. She’s reporting from under a table in a cafeteria. Wish I was there to help her. You know, protect her so she’d feel grateful and want to jump in my bunk.”
“Nobody’s going to jump in your bunk as long as that thing is on your elbow, Neimanhaus,” the navigation officer said.
“Shut up, Marks.”
Yas poked Neimanhaus on the shoulder, wanting his full attention on the search. “See if you can find a list of the dead.”
Yas couldn’t imagine that his sixty-something-year-old parents would have been out running around someplace they might get shot, but what if this internal conflict involved more than simple fighting over sides? What if people started taking hostages or shooting influential people? His parents had wealth and influence—at least they had under the old regime. Who knew what they had now? They might seem like easy targets.
“Blondie looks too busy to publish lists like that,” Neimanhaus said, “and she’s the only one reporting from inside the station.”
“News anchorwoman Zoe Demopoulos,” Yas supplied numbly, “and it’s usually brown hair, though it was green and blue briefly last year when she lost a bet on the air.”
Neimanhaus looked over his shoulder. “Oh, is this where you’re from, Doc?”
“Yes.” Yas stared at the video of Zoe reporting—she ducked as some projectile flew by. In the background, someone drove a duct-cleaning vehicle over a table, crunching it flat.
“Sir,” Marks said. “I’m reading something new under the water. Looks too small to be a ship—or a submarine—but something is heading your way. Actually, it looks like four somethings.”
Yas barely heard the words, and it wasn’t until someone cursed and shouted a warning over the team’s comm channel that he tore his gaze from the small news report to look at the bridge’s large forward display.
He almost dropped his examiner again at what he saw.
Four drones shot out of the water and streamed bursts of rapid-fire energy bolts. The team was still out in the open on the ice, fifty yards from the shuttle.
Two of the drones fired at the men, tracking them with deadly accuracy—and power. One man took a hit to the shoulder, and even though his armor protected him, the force behind the blast hurled him ten feet. He skidded across the ice, and only a wild roll kept him from being hit again.
The other two drones flew toward the shuttle, but Rache and Chaplain
fired relentlessly at them until they turned away.
A couple of the men sprinted for the shuttle, zigzagging their paths. Rache and Chaplain stayed back, blasting at the drones even as they jumped and dove to evade sizzling pale blue bolts of energy that blew craters in the ice when they hit. Shards flew everywhere, and cracks appeared on the shelf.
“Shit,” someone said, “they better get out of there before the ice breaks and the shuttle falls through.”
“Can you fly us down there to help them?” Neimanhaus asked.
“Negative. The fissure is too narrow for the Fedallah. We could fly above it and shoot some nukes, but that would be overkill and likely to hurt our own team.”
“Hurry, hurry,” Yas whispered, his eyes locked on Rache and Chaplain, frustrated that they were staying behind, as if they wanted to be hit, while the other two men escaped into the shuttle. Yas was even more surprised to realize that he cared what happened to them. Maybe not to Chaplain, whom he’d never spoken more than five sentences to, but Rache was… he didn’t know what. His only way to clear his name, at the least.
“They’re drawing the fire on purpose,” Neimanhaus said. “So the others can get the shuttle in the air.”
Rache and Chaplain hit the drones several times, but they were armored, and the DEW-Tek bolts ricocheted off. One drone zipped down low, flying straight at Rache, strafing the ice and blowing holes as it came in.
Yas expected Rache to dive to the side, but he waited until the bolts were slamming into ice scant inches from his feet. Then, instead of jumping aside, he sprang straight up, fifteen feet into the air, and swung his rifle like a club—and with the power of a wrecking ball.
It slammed into the drone, knocking it from its path. The channel was still open, and the sound of the crunch filled the bridge like thunder erupting.
Chaplain kept sustained fire on the second drone as it focused on Rache, firing mercilessly, as if furious that he had destroyed its mechanical comrade. How much armor did the thing have? The bolts started burning through instead of ricocheting off. Abruptly, it veered toward the water, trying to escape Chaplain. Just before it dove in, it exploded.
The shuttle lifted up, thrusters melting ice. Yas gripped the back of Neimanhaus’s chair, afraid the rest of the team intended to leave Rache and Chaplain.
The remaining two drones kept firing at the shuttle, but it zipped straight toward the armored men. It tilted on its side, the hatch open, but not slowing down. Rache and Chaplain had to time it perfectly. Yas held his breath as they sprang ten feet to throw themselves through the hatch.
The drones pelted the shuttle with energy bolts, but it shot away, the hatch slamming shut. It picked up speed as it flew toward the Fedallah, and the drones fell behind.
“We’ve got our shuttle-bay doors open, right?” someone asked.
“Yes, sir.”
The forward display lost track of the shuttle as it whipped around the ship toward the bay, but an officer soon reported, “Shuttle safe on board.”
“Good. Get us back up to a safe orbit.”
Yas sagged with relief as they left the ice far behind and flew back up toward the stars. But he didn’t know how long that relief would last. His parents were in danger, and Rache now had the proof he’d sought that the astroshamans’ secret base, or at least something worth defending, was under the ice.
Casmir rubbed his chin as the video of Kim’s colleague’s half of the conversation played on the tablet propped on her desk. They were in her cabin, her in the chair this time and him sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed.
“Is that someone shooting in the background?” he asked as the conversation neared its end. “Like with guns with chemically-propelled bullets? Is that even allowed on a space station?”
“I don’t think rioters care that much about obeying the law.”
“It sounds really bad there. If Ishii knows exactly what’s going on, he hasn’t told me.”
“Are you surprised?” Kim asked.
“No, I’m not his confidant.”
“Do you think Asger is?”
“Not really. Asger has given me the impression that he got in trouble for losing the gate—for helping me—and that he’s fairly low in the pecking order of knights, as it is. I don’t think he’s known Ishii much longer than I have. Technically, I’m sure he hasn’t, though there was a gap of twenty-two years when Ishii and I never ran into each other.”
“No reunions for summer robotics camp, huh?”
“Oddly not. Maybe I should put something together when I get home. Do you want me to call Asger down here to see this?” Casmir pointed at the video.
Kim hesitated. “It did occur to me that he has a shuttle. But I’d hate to get him—or you—into hot water over this. I’ve been thinking… maybe Ishii would help if I asked him. Even if this isn’t my corporation’s Kingdom branch, and Chi is far from a loyal subject, maybe Ishii would see the value of getting a scientist and freezers full of valuable specimens and interesting research projects out of a danger zone.”
“Are the interesting projects genetically engineered?”
“Possibly. We don’t do much of that kind of work on Odin, but the headquarters and laboratories in the other systems aren’t so constrained.”
“Don’t mention that to Ishii if you ask him.”
“Do you think I should ask him?”
Casmir bit back his natural response to flippantly point out that Ishii was paying her so he must like her a lot more than him. Kim’s colleague was in danger, and she seriously wanted his advice.
“If we don’t go through him, we’ll get in trouble, and if we ask Asger to use his shuttle to take us over there, we’ll get him in trouble too. I was hoping to avoid doing that again.” Casmir smiled sadly. “But I think Ishii’s primary, and perhaps only, concern is going to be… whatever his orders are exactly. And if he believes we’ll be in the way, he’ll never let us go.”
Casmir let his gaze drift to the video. It had ended, but Scholar Chi’s worried face was frozen on the screen.
“I’m guessing he has orders to stop the riots and trouble,” Casmir said, “by whatever means are necessary. Unfortunately, the means he seems prepared to use could make matters worse. Even if he’s able to force the citizens to calm down, is it likely a company of marines can do that without injuring a bunch of people and jailing others? Make that four companies of marines. The other warships are heading to Tiamat Station too. If our people end up killing some of the Tiamat citizens, however inadvertently, it’s only going to give them more fuel for their hatred of the Kingdom.”
As Casmir spoke, he realized the problem wasn’t just finding a way to get Kim’s friend out but finding a solution that wouldn’t turn the Kingdom into heinous warmongering conquerors in the eyes of Tiamat Station.
“You don’t think we should talk to Ishii, then?” Kim looked dubious, even though she’d claimed she needed a schemer when she’d called him down.
Casmir knew she preferred to be straightforward and wasn’t one to skirt the law. Usually.
“I don’t think he’ll let us go, but I also don’t think we should—or even could—blindside him by trying to sneak away with a shuttle,” Casmir said. “There’s not even any point in that until we’re at the station, because the warship can accelerate a lot faster than those little combat shuttles.”
“Scholar Chi seemed worried about what would happen when the warships showed up on their doorstep.”
“Yeah, I got that.” Casmir waved at the video. “But they’re going to show up. I don’t think we can stop that. But maybe we can alter what Ishii plans to do once we get there. Do you mind sharing that video with him?”
“No.” Kim grabbed the tablet. “I would rather have his permission than not.”
“That’s because you’re his favorite civilian advisor, and you don’t want him to take your bed away.”
“I also don’t want him to think we’re betraying the Kingdom and shoot at us
if we try to sneak away in a shuttle.”
“But it’s mostly about the bed, right?” Casmir smiled and waved for her to accompany him to Ishii’s office, Zee silently trailing behind them. He sent a note to Asger, asking if he would join them, and giving him a quick warning about what it would entail. “Do you want to do the talking or should I?”
Kim debated that for a while, and they were in the lift before she responded. “I’m not sure. I’m not good at finagling people, but you’re not good at keeping from annoying Ishii.”
“Maybe we could ask Zee to do the talking.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea. The new personality he’s developing is too akin to yours.”
“Maybe he needs to be someone else’s bodyguard for a while.”
“Nobody else gets in as much trouble and needs a bodyguard.”
“That’s possibly true,” Casmir said.
They rounded the corner and found that Asger had beaten them to Ishii’s office. He was waiting outside, leaning against the bulkhead by the door, his arms folded over his chest.
“He’s fast,” Kim said.
“He probably used the trampoline to bounce here.”
“He’s not going to say yes,” Asger said without preamble as they walked up.
Kim glanced at Casmir. “You already told him my problem?”
“Briefly. He hasn’t seen the video yet. I thought we would show both of them at once.”
“Unless I can talk you out of this.” Asger lifted a hand, stopping Casmir from pressing the door chime. “The captain isn’t going to send his civilian advisors to the station ahead of his ship if there’s a civil war going on. You’d be in danger of becoming hostages yourselves.”
“Nobody there knows who we are,” Casmir said.
“They’ll know that you came from the Kingdom warships. Other than a dubious pirate fleet a day away, there aren’t any other ships loitering around that station. The news is that their airlocks and shuttle bays are all locked down, and nobody’s been allowed to come or go for days.”
Crossfire (Star Kingdom Book 4) Page 20
