Encrypted (24 page)

“
Sergeant Ottotark, what
are you doing?” It was Bocrest.

Tikaya stepped out of the stairwell, and
both men turned. Ottotark thrust an accusing finger.

“
That crazy bitch doused
me in kerosene and threatened to light me on fire!”

“
Because you locked me in
the dungeon so you could rape me, you sadistic prick.” The burning
match had gone out, but she clutched the box in her hand, prepared
to light another if need be. She eyed Bocrest, who lifted a lantern
and eyed her back.

“
Ms. Komitopis,” he said,
“we call it an Interrogation Station, not a dungeon.”

Curse him, he sounded amused. At least he
had used her name. That was a first.

“
Ottotark, go get cleaned
up and find a rack,” Bocrest said.

The sergeant slunk away, muttering under his
breath.

“
What were you doing in
here?” Bocrest asked with no preamble, no apology for his loutish
man.

Tikaya thought about lying, but reminded
herself she wanted the captain to trust her. For now. And she did
not think her true purpose that condemning. “Looking for the fort
commander’s office. If anyone has more relics or rubbings, I
figured it’d be him.”

“
I just came from there.
It’s been searched, probably by whomever tortured the Nurian.
There’s nothing, not even Colonel Lancecrest’s orders.”

“
Colonel...Lancecrest?”
Tikaya asked.

“
Yes, usually we’d have a
general commanding a fort, but this is a small outpost.”

“
It’s the name, not the
rank, that surprised me,” she said. “There was a Turgonian named
Lancecrest studying at the Polytechnic when I was a
student.”

Bocrest shrugged. “Probably one of the
younger ones. There are nine or ten kids, and they’ve had to make
their own ways. The family’s poor as pond scum. Their lands were
salted during the Border Wars, and you couldn’t grow a weed there
now.”

“
So, just a coincidence,
you think?” As she recalled, that Lancecrest had been studying
archaeology; he had shared a couple classes with
Parkonis.

“
The colonel’s body is up
there in his office. If he was plotting with some relative, don’t
you think he’d have figured himself up a better deal?” Bocrest
headed for the stairs. “Get some sleep. I’ve got to look at this
Nurian body. One cursed mystery after another up here.”

“
Captain?” she called,
halting him on the steps. “Why is your team here, with me and Rias,
instead of hunting for whoever sent that box to your capital? It
might have originated in the tunnels, but surely the people who
found it didn’t stick around and post it from there.”

The flickering lantern played shadows across
Bocrest’s face. Answering was probably a violation of orders, but
he had already doled out some information when they discovered the
cube. Maybe he would divulge more.

“
Someone was sent to hunt
down and kill the person who delivered the box,” he said. “We are
here to seal the tunnels.”

“
Oh?” Tikaya sensed a
cover story. “Why would you need Rias or me if that’s all you’re
planning to do?”

“
We need to make sure we
find all the possible entrances and exits. You two will ensure we
don’t stumble into the kinds of traps that devastated the last
group.”

The blasting sticks they were carrying were
the only things that led credence to his story. Tikaya believed him
about the attack on the university—something had started this wave
crashing toward the beach—but, now that she’d glimpsed the
potential for genocide these artifacts offered, she wagered sealing
the tunnels was at the end of a list Bocrest received. Wouldn’t the
Turgonian emperor love to have some of these weapons for his own
use? With which to utterly destroy anyone who defied the empire?
She swallowed. Like her people?

She should to talk to Rias, see what he
thought about this. She blinked. Or should she? Whatever had
happened, he seemed loyal to the empire through and through. What
if he merely shrugged and went along with the mission?

Bocrest was watching her through narrowed
eyes, and she feared too many of her thoughts traipsed across her
face.

“
I understand.” She smiled
innocently. Nothing to worry about from her. “You mentioned
something about sleep? Where would that be done here?”

“
Officer billets are the
single-story building across the courtyard, flag out front.”
Expression unreadable, he turned and descended the
stairs.

* * * * *

As Tikaya approached the billets, she yawned
so widely tears sprang to her eyes. They froze in her lashes. The
air smelled of burning coal, and light brightened the windows on an
end room. A marine stood outside the door, rifle crooked in his
arms.

She paused. Only Rias would be under guard.
What would he think if she strolled into his room at night? Would
he assume she wanted... No, surely not. Neither of them had slept
the night before, and her shoulder nagged like a cranky child.

“
Help you, ma’am?” the
marine asked, no doubt wondering why she lurked in the
shadows.

“
Can I, uhm, er...” Tikaya
pointed to the door before her linguistic skills could fail her
further.

Lanterns burned so it was not likely Rias
would be in bed naked, though that thought made her blush.

The marine sniggered. “Captain just said to
keep him in. Didn’t say nothing about keeping anyone out.”

“
Thank you.”

She slipped inside. A coal stove glowed
cherry, spilling warmth into the room, and a narrow bunk piled with
blankets awaited. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Rias was not
naked. He sat at a desk, still wearing those shackles, though a
pencil tucked above his ear destroyed the felon look. She grinned
at the papers scattered across the desk and on the floor all about
his chair.

Weariness darkened the skin under his eyes,
but he stood and smiled. “Tikaya.”

She strode to the desk, hardly noticing that
her hip caught the corner, and wrapped him in a one-armed hug.
Between her sling and his chains, it was an awkward embrace, but
she did not care. After dealing with Ottotark and Bocrest, it felt
wonderful to lean on someone pleasant.

Rias laid his forehead on her shoulder.
“I’ve been tasked with pinpointing the origins of the rocket and
estimating the area that was affected by the cubes. I figured you’d
be too busy puzzling over those runes and I wouldn’t see you for
the rest of the night.”

“
Actually, I was busy
almost turning Ottotark into a human torch.”

His muscles tensed beneath her arm. He drew
back to meet her eyes. “What happened?”

Tikaya shared the story,
deliberately putting more emphasis on the mystery of the tortured
Nurian than the sergeant’s actions. She probably should not have
mentioned Ottotark at all—no doubt Rias would worry about her—but
she admitted to a little pride that she had handled the odious man
herself instead of falling apart. Maybe Rias would be proud of her
too. Dumping kerosene on someone was no feat of brilliance, but a
month ago, she probably would not have had the wherewithal to think
of anything while locked in a dungeon with a rapist on his way. A
month ago, she had been hiding from the world because she was too
much the coward to go back to work—to her
passion
—because she associated it so
much with Parkonis and lost dreams.

“
Ahh,” Rias rumbled when
she finished the story, and his muscles relaxed. “I feel remiss
that I wasn’t there to demonstrate the use of those torture
implements on Ottotark. But you’re clever and capable, and, alas
for my ego, I don’t think you need my help in these
matters.”

She absorbed his praise; it warmed her more
than the heat radiating from the stove. “Don’t worry. I need your
help in other matters.”

“
Oh?”

“
Someone has to catch me
when I trip.”

His eyes crinkled. “That has been a daily
occurrence.”

He held her gaze, and Tikaya was suddenly
aware of the heat of his body. If not for the chains keeping his
wrists close and his arms between them, she could have leaned
against his chest and...

Rias cleared his throat and stepped back. “I
need to finish those calculations. If there’s someone out there
with another rocket—”

“
Of course,” Tikaya said.
“I shouldn’t have bothered you. I can—”

“
No!” Rias seemed to
realize his objection too loud, for he shrugged sheepishly. “I’d
like you to stay. I promised you dinner, remember? And...” He
dragged a second chair to the opposite side of the desk and cleared
a space. “You can work with me, or you can sleep of course too.” He
waved toward the bunk. “You must be tired.”

Tikaya dug into the big pocket on the side
of her trousers and pulled out the journal. “I wouldn’t dream of
sleeping before sampling a Turgonian dinner.”

“
Excellent. I’ve got a
treat.” Rias sauntered to a credenza. He slid a parcel wrapped in
brown paper off the top, plopped it on the desk, then knelt before
a cabinet. “I found the colonel’s personal stash.”

She unwrapped the parcel and crinkled her
nose. “Salty fish? I don’t wish to sound ungrateful, but isn’t this
from the same provisions we’ve been eating all week?”

“
Yes. That’s not the
treat.” He laughed and pulled out two small glasses and a bottle
filled with amber liquid. “
This
is.”

Reverently, he carried the bottle over and
set it before her. Applejack.

“
That’s a thirty-year-old
label.” He uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. “Since
you’re from the land of rum, I thought you’d like to sample a good
Turgonian alternative.”

Tikaya sniffed the subtle apple aroma and
found it pleasant. She expected the applejack to burn her throat,
but the liquid slid down smoothly, like her father’s finest
barrel-aged rum. “Nice.”

Rias beamed, took a conservative sip from
his own glass, and returned to his work. Though her eyes were
gritty, and her muscles ached, Tikaya opened the journal to study
the runes. More than once, she paused to watch him zip through
calculations without the benefit of a slide rule. Despite the
horrors all around them, she enjoyed the companionable moment,
sitting there with Rias, him with his work, she with hers.

It occurred to her that this was an
opportunity to ask him his real name, to find out who he had been
during the war and what he had done. Except the very fact that he
had not told her made her hesitate. Would the truth create an
insurmountable obstacle between them? Maybe she should wait. It
seemed a shame to ruin this first peaceful time together.

Maybe she was still a
coward, after all. She sipped her drink. No, she
would
ask. Just not
tonight. Tomorrow night. She would find a time tomorrow night and
ask then. No matter what.

Comfortable with the decision, she leaned
back in her chair. The applejack left her with a warm muzzy
feeling. Her gaze drifted to the sleeping area where the furry
blankets and pillows appeared far more comfortable than anything on
the ship. It was not a big bed, but she supposed a couple of
creative types would have no trouble...

No, that she would certainly not do without
knowing who Rias was. “It’s too bad. I’ve finally got you in a
private room with a bed and—”

The pencil in his hand snapped, and he
gawked at her.

Erp, had she said that out loud? Tikaya
stared at the amber liquid, feeling betrayed.

“
I didn’t realize that was
a goal of yours.” Rias smoothed his face and slid out of his seat
to pick up the pencil ends. One had flown all the way to the door.
Impressive velocity. “If I had, I would have taken it upon myself
to escape my cell and call upon you. In a gentlemanly manner, of
course.”

“
I wouldn’t have wanted
you to get in trouble.” Dear, Akahe, how was she supposed to
explain the context of her comment?

“
Oh, but I’m willing to
make great personal sacrifices to help people achieve their
goals.”

Rias squeezed her shoulder, and a delightful
shiver ran through her when his fingers brushed her neck. She
sighed in disappointment when he returned to his seat without
presuming to do more.

Tikaya set her glass down and pushed it to
the side.

Rias chuckled and slid the backup pencil out
from behind his ear. “It’s a potent drink.”

“
You wouldn’t think apples
could get you caned.”

“
Apples are
the
Turgonian fruit. We
make them into everything. I think I mentioned my family’s
orchard.” Rias continued to work as he spoke. “I loved the trees as
a kid. I was scrawny, so I’d climb them to hide from my older
brothers. They loved to beat on me almost as much as I loved
getting them in trouble.”

Tikaya eyed him skeptically. “I can imagine
you as young, but...scrawny? You’re, what, six and a half feet? And
broad.”

“
Oh, I was
always
scrawny because I
was always the youngest. I was the youngest child in my family, and
then I went to the university four years early, so I was the
youngest there. I got smashed whenever I tried to join the sports
teams, and I couldn’t attract girls, because I was fourteen and
they were at least eighteen and only interested in older men.
Though I did finally bribe one gal to kiss me by volunteering to do
her homework.”