Home Front (Star Kingdom #7) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,53
with minimal retrofitting, drastically increase the battery life of my cadre of vacuums.”
“Delightful,” Bonita said.
“Extremely so.”
Bjarke gripped his chin in contemplative silence.
“What do you think of his idea about rescuing the Qins?” Bonita asked. “This business is full of deadbeats and backstabbers. Qin has been such a loyal friend. If I could help her, I would.”
“I would be happy to see those girls—women—rescued, or given the opportunity to rescue themselves. It’s not as if they aren’t capable. I don’t know how practical it is right now. I’m afraid that if you annoyed the Druckers to that degree—took all of their special warriors—you had better have plans to destroy them outright, or you’d be forever looking over your shoulder, waiting for a dagger to find your back. And the women would also be forever looking over their shoulders.” Bjarke lowered his hand. “I wondered if he was thinking of ways to use that computer virus on their ships. Even this freighter with its single railgun could take out a warship that was completely powerless.”
“I can’t imagine Casmir making plans that included killing hundreds of people. He was upset when the pirates in System Hydra were blown up.”
“If the pirate warships were powerless, one could bring over a combat team. A combat team of a couple of knights and crushers could be particularly effective. But there would still be the problem of the Druckers retaliating later. Unless you could somehow put the blame on someone else. Or kill the key pirates. You wouldn’t necessarily have to get rid of hundreds of people, just the heads of the snakes. Others would take their place but probably not with a vendetta against those who stole the Qins. If anything, they ought to be grateful for the shift that placed them in power.”
Bonita glanced at him. “You’ve spent some time contemplating this.”
“You didn’t invite me to your bedroom last night, so I had little else to do.”
“Some people use the night cycle to sleep.”
“What a waste of time. That’s what power naps are for.”
“You could have knocked on my door if you had randy thoughts in mind,” she said.
“I didn’t want to presume. We hadn’t engaged in foreplay in a corridor or lift.”
“The ship has been pretty crowded lately. I keep stumbling over knights and crushers. It tends to inhibit a woman.”
“Maybe Dabrowski could lock them in a closet.”
“The knights or the crushers? Because I agree that knights should be locked up whenever the opportunity presents itself.” She grinned at him.
Bjarke grinned back. “In closets or in handcuffs attached to a bedpost?”
“A bedpost? Where does one find a bedpost? The bunks on the Dragon and every space station I’ve been on are built into the walls and decks.”
“There are these fabulous things called planets where gravity is a constant and you don’t need to worry about fluctuations sending the wooden furniture crashing into the ceiling.”
“Planets are strange, not fabulous.”
Bjarke tilted his head. “Do you not enjoy visiting them on leave?”
“Not really. I get uncomfortable when there aren’t defined spaces around me. I’ve always lived on habitats or ships. You must not mind it yourself. It sounds like you’re rarely home.”
“It’s true. William might as well have the estate. If I had more appealing work to do when I’m down-side, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but I equate it with getting bogged down in the administrative duties of owning property and having inherited numerous family businesses.”
“It must be tedious to own things.”
“There’s a lot of paperwork involved. And managing people. I’d rather be in combat and testing my mettle against enemies.”
Bonita could understand that completely. She wouldn’t mind being financially independent—who would?—but she’d never equated that with settling down in a house in some dirt-licking town with rain and snow and wind. She much preferred the climate-controlled and always immaculately clean corridors of the Dragon. She just wished she owned the freighter outright and had money enough to afford to pass up jobs that didn’t sound pleasant.
The comm panel beeped.
“That should be Stardust Palace responding to my earlier request for a landing pad in one of their ship bays.” Bonita tapped the button. “This is Captain Lopez.”
“Many pardons for the delay in responding to you, Captain,” a polite female voice said. “I’ve been checking for openings here. Our ship bays are completely booked up. Will you send over the size specs for your freighter? I will see if we have an airlock available for you.”
“Completely booked up? Is it some kind of Miners’ Union holiday?”