Asylum, page 10
“Uhm, I had thought you might be most interested in my work.” And least likely to turn Mari over to her mother. “I’ve come to offer my services, and also my prototype terraforming device, to your queen, or whoever in your government might deal in such matters, in exchange for asylum.”
“Terraforming device?”
Mari had assumed Sato would ask first what she had done and why she wanted asylum, but perhaps because she was also a scientist, the promise of useful technology interested her more. Mari hoped that was the case.
“Yes, I’m an agronomist and also have some modest engineering capabilities. The terraformer is in my backpack. I can show it to you if you like.” Mari gestured over her shoulder at the pack, inasmuch as she could while she dangled in the air. “If your door guardian will set me down.”
“I object to releasing the intruder,” the crusher said. “The humans Kim Sato and Casmir Dabrowski, as is the case with many others of their kind, have had numerous hostile interactions with astroshamans. The eavesdropping nature of this astroshaman suggests inimical intent.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping.”
“Please put her down, Zee. She looks like she’s in pain.”
“This prisoner should be held captive while she is searched. If my grip is painful, I can modulate the surface tension of my hands so that they have a cushioning aspect to them. I have grown quite skilled at this.”
“Yes, I’ve seen you become a couch for Queen Oku’s dog. Put her down, please. You know Casmir likes to give people the benefit of the doubt.”
Did he? Maybe Mari should talk to him.
“This is true, but I am a bodyguard. I must regard all strangers from enemy nations warily.” Despite his objection, the crusher set Mari’s feet on the ground. Unfortunately, it didn’t let her go. The crusher did soften its grip, but it remained in place, as unyielding as before. “Casmir Dabrowski is returning now from the carbohydrate retrieval mission. Perhaps he will search the prisoner.”
“Casmir’s too shy and polite to pat down a strange woman,” Sato said. “What did you say your name is?”
“Mari.” She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not that Sato didn’t want to search her. She had nothing to hide, but she was armed. Only because she’d believed she might have to deal with situations exactly like the one with the strange bounty hunter in the Arctic. It hadn’t occurred to her to remove her weapons and stash them somewhere before coming to Sato’s home.
“Just Mari?” Sato frowned slightly. Indicating suspicion?
“Yes. Since I am leaving my people, I have no need of a surname that indicates astroshaman origins.”
“You mentioned wanting asylum.” Sato’s gaze shifted past Zee toward the street. Someone was riding up on an air bike. “Have you committed a crime among your kind?”
“No, but it is not encouraged to leave our society, especially if you are young and were born into it. It’s possible they will send someone to retrieve me.” Not just possible; that man who’d attacked her ensured people were hunting her right now. She trusted her sisters hadn’t given any bounty hunters orders to kill her, but what if she inadvertently caused Sato or some other ally of the queen’s to be injured? Her chances of being offered asylum would plummet.
“Are you saying you ran away from home?” Sato asked.
“Who ran away from home?” the newcomer asked, parking the air bike on the walkway and trotting up to join them.
He carried a long narrow loaf of bread in a brown bag, the fresh scent of warm sourdough filling the air. It was so enticing, especially compared to an algae ration bar, that it momentarily distracted Mari from answering.
“I perpetrated a ruse to capture an eavesdropping astroshaman who may have inimical intent,” Zee said.
“Good work, Zee.” The newcomer patted the crusher on the shoulder and looked curiously at Mari.
“I do not have inimical intent. I am seeking asylum.” Mari, assuming this was Minister Dabrowski, looked at him with equal curiosity.
Even though she’d seen pictures of him, she’d expected him to be taller and more physically formidable. She wasn’t sure why, since he’d earned her mother’s respect by hacking into a highly secure astroshaman network, designing the crushers, and somehow winning the trust of the AIs that had settled Verloren Moon, but it startled her that he was no taller than she, with skinny arms and shaggy brown hair that hung to his eyebrows. He wore a T-shirt with a cartoon character on it. She’d envisioned someone with a title like Minister of External Affairs wearing expensive and fashionable clothing when running errands.
“Apparently, she left the cult,” Sato said.
Mari frowned. “We are not some strange religious sect. Astroshamans believe in using advanced biotechnology to meld our bodies and consciousnesses with computers to allow us to achieve greater intellectual feats. We seek to live in a state less reliant on and motivated by biological frailties while we partake in the journey to humanity’s ultimate fate, becoming one with the machine.”
“Cult,” Sato mouthed to Dabrowski.
“I know,” he mouthed back.
Mari resisted the urge to argue further. After all, hadn’t she left because she wanted to experience more than her people’s strict lifestyle within a community that frowned upon any experimentation that wasn’t in line with its goals?
“Perhaps I can show you my prototype terraforming device,” Mari said, “as an example of what I can offer. I do not expect anyone to grant me asylum without a reason. I am prepared to trade my knowledge and my abilities for a place where I can work and experience your Kingdom culture.”
“Wait, are you looking for asylum with us?” Dabrowski pointed the tip of his bread loaf at himself, then at Sato. “It’s only a two-bedroom cottage, and the couch isn’t that comfortable.”
“Or typically uncluttered and available to sit on,” Sato murmured.
“My tools aren’t clutter,” Dabrowski said.
“What about the comic books and dolls?”
“Those are limited edition collectible action heroes, not dolls. I’m waiting for someone to make one of the Main Event. That’s when he’ll know he’s made it.”
“Hm.”
Mari didn’t know what to make of these two. They weren’t at all what she had expected, nor did they seem to be taking her offer seriously.
“I am not looking for refuge here,” she said, “but perhaps in a secure location unknown to my people where I could pursue meaningful work that would help your people. I have much to offer, and I believe this would make the exchange equitable.”
“Let’s see this device,” Sato said.
Mari attempted to pull her backpack off, but she couldn’t manage with Zee still holding her. As she shifted, something clunked to the ground—a pistol that had been in her pack. Strange. That shouldn’t have been able to fall out.
Sato and Dabrowski looked down at it.
“That’s not it.” Mari hoped they didn’t recognize the astroshaman pistol as a weapon. It didn’t look much like their DEW-Tek pistols. “I can’t reach it.”
“Zee.” Dabrowski wiggled a finger in what might have been a let-her-go gesture.
“That is a weapon,” the crusher said. “She may have other weapons on her person. I have not performed a body search yet.”
“Let’s save that fun for later. I trust you can stop her if she tries to shoot us.”
The crusher gazed at him. Since it took Zee a moment to comply, Mari suspected a text exchange over the network. Finally, the crusher released her, though it remained nearby, blocking her escape should she wish to run.
But running wasn’t her intent. She slung the pack off, alarmed at how light it felt. She patted the bottom and found a hole ripped in the fabric. Her shoulders slumped as she looked down at the weapon and back toward the street, hoping to spot not only the case for the terraformer but the other laboratory tools she’d taken from the ship. Almost everything had fallen out of her pack. She poked her hand inside, as if she might be mistaken, but only small items stored in inner pockets remained.
“The drones.” Mari looked back toward the intersection, half expecting to see the pack of four hovering there, her items dangling in their mechanical grips as they taunted her. “I was attacked by drones. They must have cut my pack and taken my device.”
That sounded ludicrous as soon as it came out, and she wished she could explain further.
Dabrowski’s eyebrows rose. “They usually deliver pizza when they visit me.”
Sato lifted a hand. “There has been a rash of drone attacks and thefts on campus today. It’s in the news. Ra— someone came over to protect me tonight.”
“Is someone here now? Should I have brought more bread?”
“Yes, but you know he rarely eats anything as devoid of nutrients as bread.”
“Right, only superfoods for a superhero.”
“Who controls the drones?” Mari asked. “My device represents a great deal of work and is valuable.” Not to mention it was her bargaining chip.
“Usually some nerd in the computer lab,” Sato said.
Red lights flashed at the intersection, and a municipal police van rolled down the street.
Mari tensed, afraid the authorities were here for her. She wasn’t the one mugging people, but as long as the Kingdom considered astroshamans to be enemies, she was in danger of being reported for her mere existence in their city. Her hood had fallen back more than once since she’d arrived on campus—it dangled around her shoulders again now.
Zee, who’d released her so she could search her pack, clamped down on her shoulder again. Mari caught herself before reaching for a weapon but barely.
“Kim?” Dabrowski asked.
“I have not messaged campus security or the police, but it is possible someone else did, especially if they saw Zee apprehend our visitor.” Sato looked toward other houses on the cul-de-sac, lights on in the homes. More than one face was pressed curiously to a window, and at one property, a couple stood outside, openly watching the exchange.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Mari said.
“As High Shaman Moonrazor was told,” Dabrowski said, “her people have free reign of the thirty-thousand-acre parcel in the forest two hundred miles to the west of the capital, and they—you—are welcome to have deliveries made for projects, but I haven’t yet been able to finagle the senate into giving astroshamans permission to walk freely on the rest of the planet. Relatively few people even know you’re there, and it’s probably a good idea to keep it that way for now. For your own safety more than anything. There are a lot of people who lost family in the bombings. I know your people had nothing to do with the first set of bombings, and you even helped me deal with the person responsible, but… our people are kind of fuzzy on who to blame, and there’s a lot of blanket hatred toward astroshamans right now.”
“That means you believe I have done something wrong?” Mari asked. “By leaving the forest?”
The police van stopped in front of the cottage, the doors slid open, and two policemen jumped out. They carried flex-cuffs and stunners instead of deadly weapons and wore uniforms instead of combat armor, but Mari didn’t know if she could overpower them, especially now that many of her tools and weapons were missing.
“I don’t think so.” Dabrowski touched his chest. “But the police may insist on questioning you. I wish you’d gone through High Shaman Moonrazor. Maybe she could have messaged me, and we could have worked out permission for you to visit other places on the planet with some kind of diplomatic passport.”
Mari looked bleakly at him as the policemen walked up with their stunners drawn. “She wouldn’t give me permission to leave. She’s the person I’m seeking asylum from.”
“Oh,” Dabrowski said. “Why?”
“She’s my mother.”
He mouthed another, “Oh.”
“Minister Dabrowski?” One of the policemen stopped, looking warily at the crusher. “I’m Sergeant Schutze. Are you all right? An astroshaman spy on campus was reported. It’s possible she’s here gathering intelligence that may be used in a raid.” He eyed Mari darkly. “Military Intelligence has warned our department to watch out for their kind. They may be angry that we thwarted their plans and could be plotting vengeance against our people.”
Mari shook her head. Her mother had been annoyed to be defeated, but she hadn’t been the high shaman behind the attack on Odin. She’d never wanted to kill people, only to seek technology that could help the astroshamans further their goals of leaving the Twelve Systems and finding a new home, one where they wouldn’t be shunted off as kooky cult members by the rest of humanity. The two high shaman leaders who had pressured her into the invasion had died in the attack. None of the astroshamans who’d settled in the forest here wished the Kingdom ill will. Few of them had warm, adoring feelings for the locals, but Mari didn’t think any of her people were plotting against the Kingdom. That would be a foolish thing to do while they were living on the planet that was the seat of the Kingdom.
“That’s what Military Intelligence is warning?” Dabrowski scratched his jaw.
“Yes, my lord. We have orders to apprehend any astroshamans and question them under the influence of truth drugs.”
Mari’s insides knotted. She personally didn’t have anything to hide, but what if they took the opportunity to ask all about her people? About their command structure and their technology? And what they were up to on the land they’d been given? Nothing Mari would consider nefarious, but would the Kingdom military agree? And what would her mother and sisters think if she allowed herself to be questioned in such a way?
“Is there any chance I can override those orders and send you off to find the drones that are robbing people on campus?” Dabrowski offered an easy smile, but his eyes were intent.
“Ah, no, my lord. It’s my understanding that the Minister of External Affairs is a diplomatic position. You can only order diplomats around.”
“Which has indeed been satisfying, but…” Dabrowski gestured at Mari. “I don’t suppose you’d like to change up your story and say you’re here on a diplomatic mission for High Shaman Moonrazor, thus falling more into my domain?”
“I…” Mari couldn’t tell if he was serious—would that actually work?—or if he was humoring her. Surely, he had to be on the same side as his law enforcers, not trying to work against them for her sake. “I would rather not get her involved.”
“If only you knew someone with broader authority,” Sato murmured to Dabrowski.
“She’s on one of the lunar bases, currently in a meeting with several of the nobles who rule over the habitats. They’re discussing the crown’s authority over them and how much leeway they have to set trade tariffs and the like. These meetings tend not to be short. Much to her consternation.”
“Ah.”
The sergeant cleared his throat. “Minister, if we may take the prisoner?” He eyed the crusher again, as if he didn’t want to tangle with it. “For your safety and that of your neighbors. And for Kingdom security.”
Dabrowski hesitated, and Mari held her breath, thinking he might object and that the crusher would keep the policemen from hauling her away. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her to feign diplomatic status and hope that would protect her. But no, that would only end up with them contacting her mother to verify it—and thus letting her mother know where she was.
“Of course,” Dabrowski said. “But be nice, eh? We have a treaty with the astroshamans, and we’re not at war with them right now.”
“Certainly, my lord. We are not brutes.”
“Good to know. Mari, ah, it’s probably best if you cooperate with the police. If nothing untoward comes up, maybe I can get you a diplomatic passport, and then you can make your proposal when the queen returns.”
Mari feared whatever help he could offer—if he truly meant to follow up on her case—would come too late. Soon, she would be questioned under those drugs and would blab all of her people’s secrets to government agents with recording devices. Mari also worried that Dabrowski would let her mother know she was here and that she would mount a rescue mission to retrieve her before any such secrets could be sucked from her brain. Such an action, especially if it couldn’t be done without violence, might start a war.
“Thank you,” Mari made herself say, but bleakness filled her as the crusher stepped aside, allowing the policemen to snap flex-cuffs around her wrists.
7
Kenji crouched in the shadows behind a tree several houses down from the cottage of Professor Dabrowski—now Minister Dabrowski, though from what the news said, he still taught a couple of classes on campus. Kenji watched as a crusher released Mari into the hands of two policemen. A third officer sat in the driver’s seat of their van, waiting while the others trundled her toward an open sliding door in the back.
“This isn’t good,” Kenji whispered, trusting Kay’s auditory receptors would pick up his words, though the robot stood behind a different tree several feet back. “How am I supposed to capture her, return her to her people, and collect the bounty if she’s in a jail cell?”
“It will be more difficult,” Kay said. “It was already difficult obtaining the code for her air bike and tracking her here.”
Tracking her hadn’t been that hard once they’d had the locator code—Kenji glanced toward where she’d parked her air bike—but he agreed that the situation at the rental shop had been unexpectedly fraught. If he didn’t get off the planet, or at least permanently out of the capital soon, he worried he would end up in the Main Event’s sights again. Fate kept thrusting him in that man’s path.
Kenji chewed on his lip as Mari disappeared into the van. “It would be foolish to risk the ire of the police and other local authorities by rescuing her, right?”
“Rescuing her in order to capture her?”
“Yeah. I doubt the police want to collect her bounty. They probably don’t even know about it. They just came because…” Kenji wasn’t close enough to the cottage to have heard the whole conversation, but he’d arrived in time to see the crusher restraining Mari, with Dabrowski and Scholar Sato—a figure almost as renowned as the professor after publishing that book—questioning her. “Probably because Dabrowski commed them. He must have felt threatened. Maybe the crusher caught Mari spying on them for nefarious purposes. Her people could want her back not just because she has their top-secret information but because she’s a threat to the tenuous peace between the astroshamans and the Kingdom.”
