“It’s a lot to gamble on,” Tristan said.

  “I know,” Casmir said. “Let’s focus first on getting a ship and getting that cargo. Once we’re in that position, we can adapt as the situation requires.”

  Asger and Bjarke walked in, shirtless and sweaty after some sparring match.

  “Just the men I want to see.” Casmir lifted his hands to them. “Does either of you have contacts or any ideas about where we could get a spaceship capable of holding a few gate pieces that is ideally extremely fast and with excellent armor?” He feared that such a ship didn’t exist.

  Asger’s and Bjarke’s stunned slack-mouthed expressions were so similar that it was almost proof they were related.

  Casmir outlined his fledgling plan to them.

  “We can’t steal the gate pieces from our own military,” Bjarke protested. “Nor can we steal a spaceship. We’re already outcasts, if not hunted felons.” He cast a forlorn look around the dining hall, as if he knew that once he left, he would never see his ancestral home again.

  Casmir didn’t want to promise that they would all end up heroes—Kim was right that it was impossible to predict how Jager would react even if they did manage to save Odin.

  “I can’t sign off on that either, Casmir. Even with all of your buddies—” Asger pointed to the crushers, “—sneaking into a military base and stealing a spaceship wouldn’t be possible. We’d all end up dead, and then where would the planet be?”

  Casmir went over the satellite imagery of the Arctic base again, wondering if there might be ships up there. The gate pieces had to have been delivered, after all. They could have been dropped off, but wouldn’t the military have planned for the eventuality that they would have to be moved?

  In addition to the big satellite dish, the imagery showed two buildings and a hangar. It wasn’t large enough to store a spaceship, not the size the large pieces would require. A couple of lumpy white mounds adjacent to the base made him pause and zoom in to maximum magnification. There weren’t any other hills on the flat snowy ground around the base.

  “Camouflaged ships?” he mused.

  “Casmir,” Bjarke said warningly, as if he could guess what Casmir was researching. “We’re not stealing a ship.”

  “All right. We’ll rent a shuttle for a ride to the base and check things out. Does anyone have a pilot’s license who isn’t wanted by the Kingdom Guard?”

  Casmir’s father was watching them with fascination—or maybe that was morbid horror—his chin resting in his hand. Maybe Casmir should have chosen a more private place for this plotting session.

  “We’re all wanted now,” Bjarke said. “We couldn’t rent a bicycle, much less a shuttle.”

  “Maybe Oku would lend us her pilot bodyguard, Rokuro,” Casmir said.

  “Won’t anything derail you?” Bjarke demanded.

  A long shudder shook the ground, startling them all. Casmir gripped the table.

  “What is that?” Asger spun a circle. “Earthquake?”

  A distant roar came from the sky to the west.

  “No,” Bjarke said grimly. “Something is flying by. Something very large.”

  Tristan ran and got his tablet, returning with the news already on. Casmir accessed the public and military networks.

  “Invisible enemy ships are already here,” he said numbly, summing up what he found. “There’s been bombing on the Southern continent and also farther down our coast. Some of the astroshaman ships must have gotten past our fleet. Jager has engaged other enemies in orbit. He’s able to see some of them with the slydar detector, and he’s trying to lead the Fleet to attack them, but the range is so short, he’s hobbled. Damn, why didn’t they get more of those slydar detectors made yet?”

  “It is unfortunate that we are not up there with Tork to mark the ships,” Zee said.

  “No kidding.”

  Tristan, Asger, Bjarke, and Kim—and now Casmir’s father and mother joined them—stared in horror at the tablet as a reporter relayed what was happening and showed footage. Casmir had dozens of reports scrolling down his contact display, absorbing them as rapidly as his mind could work.

  “Maybe it’s not too late to help them up there,” he said. “That program Tork used is on my old chip. If Jager still has my chip on his warship and could plug it into the computer up there… Well, they couldn’t get in without my access codes, but I could offer them. If he’d accept the help. Maybe if I go through Oku.” Casmir nodded, already composing a message to her with the information.

  The tablet showed bombs dropping from orbit and slamming into hillsides above cities. It was horrifying, but Casmir noticed right away that the astroshamans weren’t picking populated areas. Maybe this was still meant to be a warning.

  “We still have time,” he whispered as he sent the suggestion about his chip to Oku, promising to help the Starhawk access it.

  “We have to do Casmir’s plan,” Asger said. “What else can we do but get what they want away from Odin?”

  Bjarke swore. “We’ll never survive this. We can’t single-handedly take out the astroshamans.”

  “What choice do we have?” Asger pointed to the sky. “Are we going to stay here and wait for one of their bombs to drop on us?”

  “All right.” Bjarke gripped Casmir’s shoulder. “What’s Step One?”

  “We find a way to get down to that base and hope there’s a ship there.”

  “If there’s not?”

  “Then… we comm Moonrazor and tell her we’ve found the gate but that she has to come down and get it.”

  “Shit.”

  Casmir spread his arms. “Jager should have been willing to make that choice without us. If he won’t give up a few artifacts to protect the planet, I will.”

  “I may know where we could get a ship.” Tristan looked at Asger. “Of sorts.”

  Asger rolled his eyes. “That thing isn’t going to fly.”

  “What thing?” Bjarke asked.

  “I bet Casmir can fix it,” Tristan said.

  “It’s more than two hundred years old,” Asger said.

  Casmir lifted his brows, not certain whether to be encouraged by this conversation or not. Maybe he shouldn’t promise he could fix it until he knew what it was, but he found himself saying, “If you have tools…”

  Bjarke gripped Asger’s shoulder. “What?”

  “Grandfather’s helicopter,” Asger said.

  “The rusty derelict in the barn?”

  “It’s a Cloud Hopper 870,” Tristan said, “and the engine looked to be intact.”

  Bjarke rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. Hard.

  “Uhm, I could take a look.” Casmir called up the model and schematics on the network.

  “If you can get it running,” Asger said, “we’ve got a ride. It’s even big enough to carry everyone. If we kick out the owls.”

  “Get me whatever tools you have, and I’ll do my best,” Casmir said. “Uh, there’s fuel for it, right?”

  “We’ve got a tank for the old brush-clearing and logging equipment that isn’t electric,” Bjarke said. “Fuel isn’t the problem.”

  Judging from Bjarke’s continuing skeptical expression, Casmir would need more than a few tools for this job.

  “I’ll get it running.” Casmir hoped his smile was convincing. “Everyone else, pack up if you’re going.”

  “I’ll get the tools.” Bjarke trotted for the door.

  “I’ll tell Qin and her sisters and see if they’ll help us with this crazy mission.” Asger sent an aggrieved look toward the tablet and the horrors playing on the news and also ran out.

  The ground shuddered again. Not simply from the passage of aircraft, Casmir feared, but from bombs being dropped nearby. Hopefully, on the Kingdom Forest and not the city, but a lurch of fear went through him. If he was wrong, and they targeted the capital, Oku and all of his university colleagues and students were in danger.

  Casmir turned, intending to grab the clothes and handful of toiletries he’d borrowed—so little for such a dangerous trip—but he spotted his father and mother watching the carnage. He gripped their arms. “I’m going to stop this. One way or another. You guys can stay here. It’s probably safer than in the city, and Oku said Royal Intelligence isn’t looking for me right now.”

  “I should think not.” His mother’s gaze was riveted on the news.

  “We’ll stay here,” his father said, then hugged him. “I have faith that you will do the right thing.”

  “Thanks,” Casmir rasped, his throat thick with emotion—what if he never saw them again? “I need to go fix a helicopter.”

  “Have you done that before?”

  “I made a robot bird from scratch earlier this year. Almost the same thing.”

  His father snorted. “Almost.”

  Casmir hugged them both and ran to collect his gear.

  “I can see again, Doc. This is great.”

  Yas patted his patient on the shoulder and returned his tools to his medical kit. “Good. Maybe you can refrain from stopping a punch with your eye again this week.”

  “I’ll try, but we’re all getting antsy for some action. Antsy mercenaries get in fights.”

  “Given that Rache kidnapped the king’s son and is storing him in the brig, a fight should be guaranteed soon.”

  Yas had no wish to see battle, but it seemed inevitable. The last he’d heard, more Kingdom ships were flying search patterns around Odin, trying to find the Fedallah. Amergin had picked up intel that the Kingdom was fast-tracking the creation of more slydar detectors, so it would soon be a lot harder to stay hidden, as long as they remained in the area. Yas doubted there was anything he could say to convince Rache to leave the area—the entire Kingdom system, ideally.

  “I hope so. Those astroshaman ships are supposed to arrive in a couple of days, and then the Kingdom might be so busy dealing with them, that they’ll forget about us.”

  “I believe Rache is hoping for that.”

  “Yeah, so we can sneak in and thump that stupid Kingdom king.” A fist to the palm offered an exclamation mark on the enthusiastic statement. “Are we done here?”

  The door to sickbay opened, and Rache strode in.

  “Yes. Go ahead. Remember, avoid blocking punches with your eye.”

  “Will do, Doc.” The man saluted Yas and Rache, a habit left from whatever service he’d been in before becoming a mercenary, and fled sickbay.

  “Grab your kit and come, Doctor.” Rache tilted his head toward the exit.

  “You’re taking me on a trip? Exciting. How’s your arm? Has it healed itself, or did you staple it together in your cabin and hope for the best?”

  Yas couldn’t see Rache’s arm through his armor, but he didn’t appear to be favoring it. The armor had either been repaired or replaced—it lacked holes and dents, and its owner once again appeared grim and formidable.

  “My advanced regenerative capabilities have sufficiently healed my wounds,” Rache said as they walked into the corridor.

  “Must be nice.”

  “It is useful in my career. You will examine Prince Finn before I send him back and ensure he’s hale. I understand he played possum last night when his meal was delivered and tried to jump Corporal Chains and escape.”

  “How far did he get?”

  “As far as Corporal Chains’ fist.”

  “So not out of his cell?”

  “Correct.”

  Rache’s earlier words sank in, and Yas paused before they reached the lift. “Wait, you’re letting him go?”

  “I am.”

  “Why? I thought… well, you went through all that work to capture him.”

  “The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.” Rache sounded like he was quoting some ancient text.

  “Is confusing your doctor also a goal?”

  “Finn has agreed to pardon me if I kill his father. Since Dubashi can no longer pay me for that mission, my interest is keen.” Rache stepped into the lift, holding the door open for Yas.

  It took Yas a moment to force his legs to work again. “I know you want to kill Jager anyway, and probably don’t care if anyone pays you or not, but do you actually believe Finn would? He would say anything to get you to let him go. You can’t seriously be thinking of working with him.”

  The lift doors shut, and Rache gazed over at him. The mask hid his expression, but Yas had the feeling he was missing something—and that Rache was disappointed that he’d missed it.

  “You know I have my own agenda in regard to Jager, but I’ve recorded Finn’s promises, the meeting you saw and another one in which we supposedly ironed out the details of how I will serve him.” When they reached their floor, Rache hit a button to keep the lift doors from opening. “I will find a way to distribute the recordings, either to the Senate or perhaps to the entire population. I am considering sending them to Jager as well, but I doubt he’s under any delusions when it comes to his son. Still, it would amuse me to orchestrate a father-son showdown, during which they would attempt to kill each other.”

  Amuse? That sounded horrifying. “What do you hope to accomplish with the recordings? Beyond familial showdowns.”

  “Ensure that Jager won’t name Finn as his heir and that if Finn tries to force the issue, nobody will support him. Not after he’s made a deal with me.”

  “I think if those astroshamans get that gate working, you should follow them through it to another system and forget all about the Kingdom for the rest of your life.”

  “I see you’re still speaking your mind around me, Doctor.”

  “You keep forgetting to flog the insubordination out of me.”

  “Such an important thing to forget. I must be getting senile.” Rache gave Yas a long considering look.

  Yas fought the urge to squirm and remove Rache’s finger from the button that kept the doors from opening. What was he plotting now, and what role would Yas be forced to play?

  “It has occurred to me,” Rache said, “that if I distribute these videos, people will believe them fabricated. Perhaps if you, the doctor I forced into servitude to me for five years against your wishes, were to distribute them, their veracity might not be questioned. As someone who naturally resents me, you could be attempting to make me look like a fiend for considering Finn’s offer, just as Finn would look like a fiend for creating it.”

  “And what would I, someone who naturally resents you, stand to gain from sharing these videos?”

  “On Tiamat Station, your previous president may have been assassinated by a Kingdom agent, and the vice president who stepped in, however briefly, was a puppet of the Kingdom. Perhaps you wish to see civil war or the establishment of an entirely new regime on this planet, to ensure that the Kingdom is too busy with inner turmoil to bother Tiamat Station again.”

  “Is that what’s coming? A new regime?”

  “They’ll have to figure out something if Jager and Jorg are dead, Oku doesn’t want the job, and nobody trusts Finn enough to follow.” Rache tilted his head. “I could simply kill Finn, but Kim said that would be egregious and villainous.”

  “She’s not wrong. What are her thoughts on the assassination of Jager?”

  “She also believes that to be egregious and villainous.”

  “But you’re planning to do it anyway?”

  “Yes. A goal of ten years cannot be cast aside, even for the love of a woman.”

  Yas never would have guessed he would hear Rache use the word love. He wondered if he’d told Kim how he felt—and if she was horrified. Yas would be.

  “A goal or an obsession?” Yas asked. “Because I have some opinions on the health of obsessions.”

  “I don’t come for your physical exams, so you can be certain I won’t visit for your mental-health assessments.”

  “A shame.”

  Rache released the button. “After we’ve let Finn go, I’ll find someone for you to send the recordings to, someone who could get them out to the entire system. There’s a big broadcast station on the moon here—I believe that’s what the astroshamans hijacked for their message—but there’s also one on Forseti Station. That would likely be less well guarded now. I wonder…” Rache strolled out of the lift, musing whatever he mused.

  Yas wondered if it would be less of a crime to murder Finn than to ruin his life. Maybe that was why Rache was choosing the latter.

  20

  The wind from the helicopter blades bent the grass and tugged at Kim’s ponytail. The rusty craft looked as airworthy as a kite struck by lightning and careening toward a treetop. Large, bronze-colored—or maybe made from bronze—and bulbous, the helicopter tilted precariously as Bjarke flew it from the barn up the hill to land on the driveway. That Casmir had gotten such a relic flying at all was a miracle.

  Asger, Bjarke, Tristan, Qin, her sisters, and most of the crushers were lined up and ready to hop in. Judging by the size of its cabin, the helicopter had been designed to carry troops, but Kim wondered if it could truly take all of them.

  Casmir hugged his parents goodbye, got a sad look on his face when his father gravely said, “Shalom aleichem, my son,” and came to stand beside Kim as the others climbed into the noisy craft.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to come with us?” he asked her.

  “Yes, I’m sure, and I came out here to ask you if you’re sure you need to go. They’re all combat specialists.” Kim pointed at their burly colleagues. “You’re not. You said Royal Intelligence doesn’t care about you right now and isn’t searching for you. Why not stay here and play with the networks from the relative safety of the countryside? We’re surrounded by woods and farms. I doubt a bomber is going to target this place.”

  “Play with the networks? Kim, I am engaged in monitoring and, when appropriate, sophisticated and discreet manipulation of data.”

  “Uh huh. You can do that from your guest room in the castle. That helicopter doesn’t look like it’ll be able to fly more than ten miles without crashing.”

  “There’s a metal box in the back with parachutes in it.”