Short Stories from the Star Kingdom Read online

  “We do not supply illegal narcotics to our patients, Captain,” the android said.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got my own stash.” The man pulled a packet out of his pocket. “I just need something to wash it down with. Bourbon, if you’ve got it.”

  The nurse picked up the empty cup on his bedside table. “I will fill this with a beverage permissible within the clinic.”

  “Not milk again.”

  “Also, my name is Mildred 8, not sweet cakes.” She walked away with the cup.

  “Should have had my crew send me some of the good stuff.” The man twitched two fingers on his prosthetic hand, frowned at it, and flopped his head back against the pillows.

  David hoped he was done speaking, but a scant thirty seconds passed before he said, “Let me warn you about the assassination gig, kid. It pays well, but you end up wanted in all Twelve Systems, you spend your life looking over your shoulder, and sooner or later, someone better than you comes along.”

  “Why do you believe that is what I plan?”

  “You’ve got that petulant, betrayed-by-the-universe look. Also, you were muttering in your sleep earlier. In that snobby Kingdom accent you’ve got. You might want to sand that off if you don’t want someone out here in the rest of the Systems to kick your ass.”

  “They can try,” David said.

  Even before the expensive upgrades he was paying for—not only cybernetics but biological regenerative enhancements as well—he’d been formidable, thanks to his training. He wasn’t worried about space riffraff threatening him.

  “I’m sure someone will. You sound like an entitled prick with money. Thanks, sweet cakes.” The man waved to the android.

  “My name is Mildred 8.” The android returned his cup to his table, then asked David, “Do you require anything?”

  “A less talkative neighbor.”

  “Understandable,” she said.

  “Hey. I’m paying for good service, not a lippy android.”

  “You are paying to have your arm replaced. I am complementary.”

  “How much do I have to pay for you to be complimentary?”

  “More than you have, Captain. Good night.” She walked off, her lippiness not keeping the man—the captain of a spaceship?—from admiring her backside.

  “That’s why I don’t have androids on my crew. Lippiness. I much prefer young, aggressive troops with a lot of anger that can be channeled into missions.” The captain smiled at David. “Even better if they’ve just dropped fifty thousand for cybernetics to help them kick ass.”

  “You are attempting to recruit me?” David stared at him.

  “It wasn’t obvious? Why else would someone chat up a surly teenager?” The captain took a drink from his mug, then slammed it back down and made an agonized face. “Apple juice? Mildred, you’re abysmal. I insist that you be fired at once.”

  If the android was still within hearing range, she didn’t reply.

  “I’m twenty-two,” David said, “and I’m not looking for a job.”

  “Because you’re determined to get yourself killed on some assassination mission you can’t possibly complete?”

  Damn, how much had David muttered in his sleep? He’d had no idea he was prone to that. In the future, he would ensure he never shared a room with anyone else.

  That wouldn’t be that hard a promise to keep now that Thea was gone…

  The captain used his teeth to open the packet of whatever drug he was likely addicted to. “I may be wasting my time—I’ve no idea if you can fight your way through a moon-dust wall—but I lost a few men at Karowak Landing, so I need to recruit. My charm is dubious, I know, but I give hazard pay and mission-completion bonuses, and you’d get to see the Twelve Systems. It’s not a big company, so we don’t usually get stuck in government-versus-government morasses. More stealthy incursion missions. Fun stuff. You interested?” He tossed a couple of pills in his mouth and grimaced as he washed them down with his loathed apple juice.

  “You’re a mercenary captain?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are all of your men addicted to whatever that is?”

  “No more than two-thirds, I assure you.”

  “Wonderful odds.”

  “Life sucks harder than a black hole. People deal with it however they can. What’s your name, kid?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “The crew will need something to yell to warn you when a massive slayer robot is about to blow your head off.”

  “I’m not joining you.”

  “You’ll learn the ropes. If you survive, you can become a mercenary captain of your own one day. A legit entrepreneur and businessman. Don’t throw your life—and all those beautiful, pristine, my-God-if-only-I-could-afford-them upgrades—away.”

  “Do not speak with me further.” David turned on his side to put his back to the man and returned to contemplating what his new name would be.

  * * *

  • • • • •

  * * *

  Present day…

  * * *

  Tenebris Rache pushed aside the memories of his early days outside of the Kingdom, though he wasn’t surprised they had surfaced. After ten years with this current name, after ten years of being physically and digitally masked to hide his identity, he was once again searching for a new name. More than that, he was searching for a new life. He had no idea what either should be.

  He hadn’t expected to survive his mission to kill King Jager, his nemesis of more than a decade. Had he not, after so many years alone, come to care for another woman, he doubted he would have bothered dragging his injured body from the crash site back to civilization to accept the opportunity of starting over again.

  Now, he pounded along on a treadmill in the underground apartment he’d claimed as a hideout in Zamek City. Despite the recent upheaval in the Star Kingdom government, he was still a wanted man. It was no doubt unwise to stay in the capital, but he had a date tonight. He would not opt for a safer haven and miss out on it and what he hoped would be many more.

  As he ran, he glanced at classified listings for businesses for sale that were scrolling down a wall display hooked up to the public network. So far, none of them had been appealing or commanded much of his attention, which was good, because he had a training program running. Two hover balls circled the treadmill and periodically zipped in, attempting to knock him off. He had to jump or duck their attacks, ideally without being struck or stepping down.

  Though Rache had no idea what his future held, staying in shape was always a good idea. Though when he glanced at the time, he realized he should have gotten off by now and showered. Scholar Kim Sato was supposed to arrive any minute for their date. He assumed she would prefer him to be clean, dapper, and ready to go. Although… if she saw him shirtless and sweaty, would she feel a stronger than usual attraction to him?

  With another woman, he would be certain of it—all that training left him lean and muscular—but Kim was not like other women. He was positive his body had little to do with her willingness to spend time with him. Still, he’d never wandered around sweaty and shirtless in front of her. Perhaps she would appreciate the display?

  The apartment’s other occupant, the crusher Amit, left his position by the wall to stand in front of the treadmill. Rache had finally stopped instinctively dropping into a fighting stance whenever the six-and-a-half-foot-tall black walking wall of death approached. This was his crusher, a gift from his clone brother Casmir, not an enemy. If not for Amit, he might not have survived that crash.

  “Do you wish to spar, Tenebris Rache?” Amit asked in his monotone voice.

  “We did that last night. I haven’t hammered the dents out of my armor yet.”

  That wasn’t true. Rache couldn’t sleep at night if his entire suit of black combat armor, from boots to torso piece to helmet, wasn’t in meticulous condition. One never knew when an enemy might burst in.

  “I am capable of employing a lower level of f
orce in a practice battle with an unarmored opponent.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” When Rache checked the time on his chip again, eager for human companionship after three days cooped up down here with only Amit, he realized Kim should have been here five minutes ago. Though they hadn’t managed many actual dates when their paths had crossed on their separate and occasionally opposing space adventures, she’d always been punctual.

  “Do you have some task that you wish me to partake in?” Amit asked.

  “No.”

  “I see you are researching business opportunities. Do you wish me to continue that research while you accompany Scholar Sato on your date? A pizza and sushi kiosk has recently been listed on the market.” Amit looked toward the display, sent some wireless channel-changing command, and a picture of the kiosk and the details of the business came up.

  “That’s outside of my realm of expertise.”

  “Do you not own many businesses?”

  “Not food kiosks.”

  “Perhaps this would be an opportunity to challenge yourself in new arenas.”

  “Amit, are you bored?” Rache had no idea what else to attribute this conversation to. The crusher rarely spoke, just stood in the background until some threat appeared, in which case he turned into a very efficient and very deadly bodyguard.

  “I am a Z-6000, and my foundational programming is to protect Tenebris Rache.” Amit caught one of the balls before it could zip in toward Rache’s chest.

  Rache had been on the verge of ducking, but with the threat eliminated, he sighed and went back to his steady run. “I told you to let those attack me. It’s a training exercise, to run and dodge while running and not falling off the treadmill.”

  “It is difficult for me to overcome my foundational programming.”

  “Maybe you need a friend. Casmir’s crusher flirts with that android.”

  Amit seemed to consider this. Crushers weren’t like androids, which were created to emulate humans, and their monochromatic faces—having only vague nose, eye, and mouth holes—never conveyed expression. “I do not have an android with whom to flirt.”

  “I give you permission to go look for—” A soft chime sounded, an alert letting Rache know that someone was approaching the apartment, either through the most direct route or one of the escape tunnels. “Thank God.”

  He sprang off the treadmill and grabbed a towel, genuinely relieved that nothing had happened to Kim and that she was coming—and also relieved to have a reason to end the conversation with Amit. When he’d asked Casmir for a crusher, he’d imagined the construct helping him slay enemies, not discussing woes of boredom.

  Rache brought up the security cameras he’d installed around the apartment, the displays playing on his contact interface, and ordered the front door to open when he saw Kim approaching.

  Her black hair was swept back in a ponytail, her clothing modest, and her fine features without makeup.

  When they’d first met—the first time he’d kidnapped her—he hadn’t been struck by her beauty, though she was certainly not unattractive, but by her intellect. And also, as odd as it seemed, her aloofness and utter disinterest in him. That was the opposite experience he usually had with women.

  He’d had no intention of falling in love, but from the beginning, she’d been an intriguing challenge. Only later, after they’d spent more time together, had he realized how much they had in common, and how much he liked her. By the time he’d learned she had, under a pen name, written his favorite allegorical fantasy trilogy, he’d been smitten. Inasmuch as jaded, vengeful criminal masterminds could be smitten.

  Kim paused on the threshold and peered into the apartment.

  Rache hadn’t decided if his musing about showing off his naked torso to her was wise, but since she was here and he was topless, he went with it. He draped his towel over his shoulder and stood, a fist on his hip and his bare chest turned toward her.

  As a scientist—a bacteriologist, specifically—she’d always seemed more intrigued by fascinating specimens in a Petri dish than by the human physique, but perhaps their growing cerebral attraction would fuel an increased physical attraction. After all, they had kissed several times now. Despite her warnings that she didn’t like to be touched without warning, he was reasonably certain she hadn’t found those occasions deplorable.

  “Scholar Sato,” he said, always moved to keep things formal and respectful with her, “welcome to my temporary but adequate abode.”

  “Hm.”

  Kim looked at the walls, at Amit, at the treadmill, and the furnishings that had come with the apartment before her attention came to him. She appeared unmoved by what other women had called intriguing scars and rippling abs.

  “Your lair is without windows. I lost a bet.” Her delivery was almost as deadpan as the crusher’s.

  “To whom? Casmir? And what do you mean lair? I’m not a wild animal.”

  “Yes, Casmir. Given that finances seem to be of little concern to you, I thought you would obtain a penthouse looking out on the ocean. Casmir said you’d find that a security risk and opt for an underground lair, such as are favored not by wild animals but by super villains in comic books.” Kim wasn’t expressive in general, but her dark brown eyes glinted with humor as she relayed this information. “He said it would have no fewer than two hidden exits, the escape routes possibly booby trapped with flamethrowers built into the walls.”

  “There are four escape routes, all without flamethrowers.”

  “He’ll be disappointed by their lack.”

  “And it’s a subterranean apartment, not a lair. They’re all over the city. Not everybody can afford a view, you know.” Admittedly, he could, but this was safer.

  “It’s under a parking garage. Do you hear vehicles vrooming overhead while you sleep?”

  “No.” This wasn’t what he’d envisioned discussing with her. Why wasn’t she ogling his chest? “It’s well-insulated, soundproofed, and has all of the modern amenities, despite the escape route access being my primary concern. Casmir is correct; as a wanted man actively being hunted by the Kingdom Guard, I consider security a concern.”

  “Are they actively hunting you?” Kim stepped inside and let the door slide closed behind her. “The last I’d heard, you were still believed dead.”

  “My death was more ambiguous this time than last time. I didn’t have as much time to consider it and stage it.” Because, until the very last moment, he’d truly been prepared to die. He was lucky he had lived, thanks in no small part to Amit, who’d used his capability to liquefy and re-form into other shapes to wrap around and cushion Rache during the crash.

  The humor disappeared from her eyes, and without the earlier teasing, she said, “I am pleased that you survived.”

  “As am I. Though I’m at a loss about what to do with myself. I’m more hated here in the Kingdom than anywhere else, so it would behoove me to take up residence in another system, but then…” Rache extended his hand toward her. “We couldn’t date.”

  “I have been enjoying spending time with you, even if you’re forced to hide your face in public. Will we be dining here tonight?” She looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his chest, and he dared let himself imagine some appreciation in her eyes. “You do not appear prepared for venturing out.”

  “I can shower and dress quickly if you wish to go somewhere more scintillating than my kitchen. Or even if you don’t. I was delaying finishing my workout in case you would be moved to ardor by seeing my naked gleaming chest.”

  She gave him a blank look. “My feelings of ardor for you are bestirred by your wit, your good company, your interest in literature, and your ongoing support, including starting a publishing company for the sole purpose of publishing my book.”

  “I am glad for those things. But just to be clear—” Rache waved at his chest, “—this doesn’t inspire additional feelings of passion or perhaps lust?” He smiled, more amused than wounded. As he’d already learned,
Kim was far more complicated than any other woman he’d dated. He liked that.

  “It’s symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing.”

  “So, you’re turned on, huh?”

  “I have not yet weighed the pros and cons of having coitus with you or considered if it could be an appealing experience.”

  “Not at all?” He decided not to admit that he’d had numerous dreams of her and was positive any coitus they shared would be appealing. “My ego is wilting as I stand before you.”

  “I have observed that your ego is sturdier than your combat armor and even less likely to be battered.”

  “Hm, possibly.” He bowed to her. “Allow me to shower and change. I should have done so before you arrived instead of scheming ways to prompt you to fantasize about me naked.”

  “Yes,” she said as he headed to the bathroom. “Also, to save time, you could have sent a video.”

  “Of my naked chest?” He paused in the doorway. “Would you have watched such a video?”

  A faint smile curved her lips. “Possibly.”

  “Would you have enjoyed it? For the symmetry and aesthetic appeal?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Are you flirting with me, Kim Sato?”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Possibly.”

  Amit spoke from his spot along the wall. “I am considering befriending an android so that I will have a like-minded soul with whom to engage in stimulating conversation.”

  Kim stared at him in surprise.

  “He’s bored with me,” Rache said and stepped into the bathroom. He tossed the towel aside and jumped into the shower, feeling silly that he was making Kim wait, especially given his reason.

  A knock came at the door, startling him. None of his alarms had gone off.

  “Amit?” He turned off the water and stepped out.

  “No.” Kim opened the door without coming in. “I may need to cancel our date.”

  “What? Why?” Rache opened the door to look at her, only remembering at the last second to grab a towel to cover his nether regions. While he hoped that she would one day be accustomed to him being naked—and vice versa—it was a large step from topless to full-on nudity.