whatever calculations they were computing. Then maybe she could come in later as a surprise and be more useful.
“Has the Mirage replied to Dya?” Bonita asked.
“No.”
“Have the Druckers tried to comm either of those ships?”
“Not that I’ve detected.”
“So nobody really knows what—”
“She’s firing,” Viggo interrupted.
“Dya?”
“Yes. The Mirage is firing back.”
Qin, Bonita sent. You better take over in navigation, or your whole plan is going to go supernova.
She didn’t get a response.
22
The first shots were fired as soon as Casmir’s new ship, the Moon Dart, cleared the asteroid and flew out to join the growing fleet of defenders. Unfortunately, the fleet of mercenaries was growing too. Few of them had ventured close enough to be at risk from the weapons platforms mounted around the asteroid yet, but a couple of well-armored ships were zipping in, flinging fire, and zipping back out—taunting the defenders to fly away from the asteroid’s defenses where they would be more vulnerable.
Casmir was seated in a pod he’d been given at a scanner station in navigation so he saw the asteroid’s return fire light up the darkness of space. A missile slammed into one of the mercenary ships, but it was heavily armored and didn’t appear to take much damage. It did zoom back out of range. Casmir hoped the hit had stung a little.
He made himself tear his gaze from the scanner display and familiarize himself with the computers and displays at the station. He’d found the slydar detector sitting on the deck next to it. Nobody had attempted to hook it up for him, so he had work to do now.
Tristan was at the nearby weapons station, Nalini in the central command pod, and three other crew members in colorful blue and purple uniforms from the station manned the communications and helm stations. Casmir had been relieved when nobody had pointed their new “acting admiral” to the command pod.
While the others murmured quietly, watching the displays and movement of the various ships, he opened his tool satchel and focused on getting the slydar detector plugged in.
Zee stood behind his pod in his usual bodyguard spot. The rest of the crushers were down near the airlocks, prepared to defend the ship if enemies boarded it. If they managed to find Dubashi, Casmir looked forward to sending all the crushers over to deal with him and destroy the rockets.
“Your father is warning the mercenaries to leave the area, Princess Nalini,” the comm officer said. “He’s telling them the station is fully prepared and that they won’t find it an easy target. Do you want it on the speakers?”
“Yes,” Nalini said.
After a few crackles of static, they heard the response from one of the mercenary commanders. “…have heard that you have a number of important people on your station right now, Sultan. Not to mention the wealth of equipment and riches you’re known to have there in your home. Do you still have that collection of petrified drayka eggs in your suite? I understand those are selling for close to a million Union dollars each on the collectors’ market.”
“I’ll pretend it’s not aberrant that you’ve researched what’s in my bedroom, Captain Delgado,” came Shayban’s familiar voice in reply, “but we both know better. I also know that you stole that ship and have no proper claim to that rank.”
“Unlike the rank of sultan that you gave yourself after hollowing out that asteroid and building a tin can of a palace inside?”
“The station is firing again,” Tristan said quietly.
“I can’t imagine why,” Nalini murmured.
“Targeting that ship—Delgado’s. It’s right at the edge of the station’s range.”
“Casmir,” Nalini said, “let us know when you have that slydar detector online. Father is sending over some updates about hidden ships out there, but the interface between his computer down there and ours up here is clunky so far.”
“I’ll work on both those problems.” Casmir was happy to comply—and to take orders rather than giving them, as long as they were reasonable orders. So far, he had more faith in Nalini to give them than he’d ever had in Jorg.
The ship deck tilted, the sense of gravity shifting as the Moon Dart changed course. Casmir’s tool satchel tried to take a journey across navigation. Zee, his magnetic soles keeping him affixed to the deck, caught it.
“Do you need assistance, Casmir Dabrowski?”
“Usually,” Casmir said. “Soldering gun, please.”
Zee handed him the tool.
“You’re a good crusher,” Casmir said.
“Yes, I am. And also a good protector. Did you take your seizure medication today? I have noticed that when