“How do you turn the water on?”
Rias’s voice startled Tikaya so much she dropped the sphere. It slipped from her fingers and clunked on the high table where she sat. She caught it before it rolled off the edge, though she almost dropped it again when she spotted Rias.
He stood by the tub, his weapons, boots, and shirt already on the floor next to his rucksack, and a towel and bar of soap on the ledge. She stared at his muscled chest. If he had been on the gaunt side when she first met him, that was not the case now. Hard to imagine someone filling out on that abysmal military food, but perhaps it suited him. Scar tissue scored his torso and arms: several old gashes and two dense knots where he must have been shot. Some of those wounds had been life-threatening and represented a lot of pain. As with Krychek, he never spoke of it, never complained.
“Should I be feeling self-conscious under this scrutiny?” Rias asked. “Or are you only looking this way while thinking about translating runes?”
Heat flushed her face. She decided his first question was safest to answer. “Push on that symbol and slide it up, then rotate it for hot or cold.”
“Hot? Excellent.” He turned on the water and hopped up to sit on the edge facing her. “You’re engrossed there. You must have found something good.”
She brightened, taking this for an invitation to share her findings. “Yes! It’s a journal someone kept. You must be wondering about this place, these people. It’s all explained in here, though if I wasn’t sitting here I’d think it the stuff of a storyteller’s imagination. These people—they called themselves the Orenki—they came from another planet. A group was persecuted for their scientific research methods and driven out of their homeland. They came here and experimented—this is chilling by the way—experimented on primitive humans because we were biologically similar to their people. They wanted to come up with devastating weapons so they could return to their home world, use them on their own kind, and take over.”
Rias opened his mouth to speak, but she barely noticed. She still had to tell him the best part.
“You’re going to love these instructional, uhm, illusions—sorry, no better word for it in my language or yours. The first one I found shows how to repair and maintain this pumping facility. It looks like there are thousands of sets of instructions on all sorts of mechanical things, though I haven’t quite figured out how to search through them. They’re organized by codes. But I will figure it out. It’s just a matter of...”
Rias turned off the water, and Tikaya realized she had been talking for a long time. And that she had cut him off. She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, did you want to speak?”
Rias chuckled. “From another planet, you say?”
Tikaya, deciding she should let him talk for a while, offered an encouraging, “Mmhmm.”
“I’m too ignorant of astronomy to even ask how that’d be possible, but given what I’ve seen here, I can’t claim to be utterly surprised. I’m hoping they weren’t ultimately successful, because I’d not be comfortable knowing beings capable of making such weapons were still out there.”
Yes, that was an unsettling idea, but Tikaya was more concerned about human beings learning how to use those weapons. She could not allow the Turgonian emperor to have this technology. Or a disaffected marine colonel. Or anyone.
“Rias?”
“Yes?”
Tikaya wanted to tell him, ask him for his help going forward. But when she gazed at him, at the scar on his eyebrow and the war wounds on his torso, she stopped herself. He might share her passion for academics, but she could not forget he was a soldier. He had been loyal to a totalitarian government his entire life, and his one disloyal act had cost him more suffering than anyone should have to endure. Would he truly choose such a road again? “You should bathe before the water gets cold.”
He watched her with sad eyes, and she wondered how much of her thoughts he read.
“After all,” she said, “you’ve seen me naked. It’s only fair I get to see just how much of a Turgonian legend you are.”
That drew a self-deprecating chuckle, but not the repartee she expected. He slid his trousers off and climbed into the tub. Despite her words, she dropped her gaze to the sphere to give him privacy. She glanced up a few times, but Rias seemed lost in thought. He was considering Sicarius’s offer, she knew it. Probably trying to figure out if he could work her into his life once he had everything back together. She supposed, in some less than ideal scenario, she could see living in Turgonia with him, but slaving for the emperor, creating ciphers her own people would never crack if there was another war? That was not going to happen. And even the rest made her grimace. He would be off at sea most of the year, and she would be alone amongst strangers, thousands of miles from her friends and family.
“That bad of a show, huh?” Rias leaned against the tub wall, arms folded on the ledge, chin resting on them.
She tried to disguise her blank stare but doubted she succeeded.
“The show—me,” he clarified. “Nude. Never mind. I can see you’re busy with the sphere. I understand the appeal of a puzzle, though I fear your enthusiasm means I’ll be ogling only myself tonight.” His smile was wistful but accepting.
“Oh.” She shoved the sphere into a pocket and ran a hand through her hair, which still hung loose. “That wasn’t the puzzle I was pondering.”
Rias cocked an eyebrow. “No?”
Better to bring it up for discussion than guessing at—and maybe misinterpreting—his thoughts. For all she knew, he was musing over ways to remove a wart from his toe. “I heard Sicarius talking to you.”
“Ah.” He nodded with understanding, but did not say anything. No words to assure her she had nothing to worry about.
“I couldn’t fault you for being tempted, but...” She searched his face, but his eyes were cast down, thoughts apparently turned inward. “Rias, I love you, you know that already. But I’m not going to do anything to hurt my people, and I’m definitely not going to work for your emperor.”
“I thought not,” he murmured.
“And...” She drew a deep breath, “I’m not going to let Bocrest, that assassin, or anyone else walk out of here with weapons that could destroy millions. I don’t know how I’m going to stop them yet, but you’ll have to kill me to keep me from trying.” She lifted her chin. There, she had said it. Maybe it would have been smarter to lead him to believe otherwise, but she did not want to lie to him, even a lie of omission. Maybe that made her naive, but, so be it.
“Good.”
“Good?” She rapped a knuckle on the table. “Would it be possible to get more than one-line responses? Do I need to posit my statements as math problems?”
Rias chuckled. “Oh, you’re hard on me, Tikaya.” He dunked his head under the water, ruffled his hair dry, hopped out of the tub, and grabbed the towel. “I was proud of myself for baring my feelings to you last night. I’d been pacing through the hills rehearsing that while the camp was conspiring to leave me.”
Even frustrated with him, she had a hard time ignoring the ‘show.’ He wrapped the towel around his waist and padded over, rivulets of water snaking down the gullies between his muscles. He sat on the edge of her table, and she reminded herself to look at his face.
“I’m not used to confiding in people,” he said. “Being a captain or an admiral, it’s a solitary vocation. You’re expected to be infallible, even omnipotent. Sharing your thoughts, showing any kind of fear or hesitancy, might crumble that facade, and that’s something men need to believe in when chaos is erupting around them and odds seem impossible.”
“I’m not in your chain of command, Rias.”
That drew a smile. “I know. And I’m thankful for that. I’m glad you’re here to remind me... Yes, of course, the weapons need to be destroyed. That’s too much power for one man to wield, too much temptation. The easier we make it to kill, the less time there is to master the art of knowing when not to.”
Tikaya nodded—it
was everything she had hoped he would feel—but his earlier thoughtfulness made her suspect more remained unsaid. “But?”
“But...” Rias combed his fingers through his hair, spraying flecks of water. “You’re right: I am tempted by the emperor’s offer. I can’t help but wonder if I could have it both ways. Help them with their mission, get my life back, and figure out how to make the weapons disappear later on.” He picked at the hem of his towel. “They’re selfish thoughts, not honorable ones, but dear ancestors, Tikaya, I’ve missed this.” He waved to encompass the tunnels and the marines camped outside the pumping house. “Command, purpose, a challenge. When I’m not Admiral Starcrest, naval strategist, I’m not sure who I am or what else could be out there for me.” He turned his eyes toward her, the question in the air.
Me. That was her first thought, but she kept it to herself. She was not fool enough to believe that she could dump herself in his lap as the answer—a man like him needed more stimulation than a relationship offered—but her second thought offered a neater solution. She hoped. “Do you know what the prime groupings in this language mean?”
His brow furrowed. “No.... Did you figure it out?”
“I haven’t an idea.” She tapped a fingernail on the sphere. “I’ve learned that what we’ve seen is one of four languages these people used, and this one is all skewed toward mathematics and science. I may be able to translate it eventually, but the numbers are beyond me. Figuring it all out, finding useful applications for our own world, it’d be the work of a lifetime. For someone interested enough to stick with me for that long.”
“Ah?” A hint of speculation entered his eyes. “But you made it clear I wouldn’t have a place on your islands.”
“There are other countries in the world. Maybe we could find one where you’re not wanted dead on sight.”
“That might be a challenge. Doubly so, since I’m a penniless vagabond with nothing to offer you except myself.”
“I’m rather fond of yourself.” Tikaya scooted to the edge of the table to sit closer to him. “And...” She laid a hand on his bare arm. “Did you not say you appreciate a challenge?”
His gaze dropped to her hand, then returned to her face, and he smiled, the quirky half-smile that made her insides tangle. “This is true.”
She leaned into him, breathing in the scent of lye soap. His bare thigh touched hers, warm even through her clothing. Too much clothing. She really ought to...
Rias slid his fingers through her hair, and she forgot her thought as goosebumps rose across her flesh. He removed her spectacles, and set them aside.
“So, have you decided?” He bent and kissed her neck, warm breath tickling her skin. “Is this thing the bed?”
“Uhm.” Tikaya laid her hand on one of his broad shoulders, then slid it down his arm, tracing the dips and rises of the muscles. “What?”
He drew back, eyes narrowed in mock accusation. “You’re not thinking about runes, are you?”
“Furthest thing from my mind.”
“Really?”
“Well, it’s definitely a distant second place to something more prominent.”
“Oh, good.” He tilted his head. “I am the something, right?”
She grinned. “Let me answer your first question. I think our current seat is the human equivalent of a coffee table. I believe that sphere over there is the bed. You get in and warm air floats you up and supports you. You can just lay there or there’s an option for, ah, undulation.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
He slid off the table, faced her, and slipped his arms around her waist. She leaned into him, lips parting, and invited in his warmth. She tangled her fingers in his damp hair, pulling him closer even as his arms tightened around her. Where he had been hesitant before, asking permission, he was sure now, and she felt his need. And her own. It had been a long time for both of them, and she could never remember wanting someone so much. Not just for now, but forever.
His grip loosened, and she voiced a muffled protest, but his lips smiled against hers, then he knelt. He gazed up at her as he unlaced her boots, and her breath caught at the adoring tenderness in those gold-flecked eyes. She recovered and dug into the buttons of her uniform jacket. Her fingers didn’t seem to work as well as they should.
“I miss my dress,” she muttered.
“Me too.” Rias’s eyes crinkled as the first boot clunked to the floor.
She shucked the jacket, annoyed when her arm caught in the sleeve. By now, he knew she was no graceful gazelle, but it would have been nice to undress competently.
She started to tug the shirt over her head, but hesitated. It was silly—he had already seen her naked and was clearly interested—but a self-conscious twinge stilled her hands. With Parkonis and those scattered few before, she had shared bench space in the cute-but-not-beautiful part of the arena. Even before Rias turned into some legendary Turgonian hero, she had known he belonged up front, in the I-could-have-anyone-I-want seats. Tonight, he wanted her, but if by some miracle they made it out of here, would that change? When there were more attractive options available?
“Tikaya?” Rias asked gently, concern in his tone. The second boot had joined the first, along with the scratchy wool socks, but he still knelt, face tilted up, watching her.
“Sorry, it’s nothing.” The future was a murky incorporeal place; best to enjoy what was real, what was now.
Rias stood, body solid and warm between her legs, but tense. “Please, tell me. I don’t want any more secrets, any more misunderstandings. I’m on your side out here, above all others.” His eyes probed hers. “Do you trust me?”
She blinked. “That wasn’t what I was doubting. I mean, I wasn’t doubting. I was just wondering if...if you saw me, back when you came to Kyatt to talk to our president, if I’d been in your path somewhere along the way...would you have noticed me?”
“Ahhhh.” Rias grinned and the tension melted from him. “Indeed so.” His eyes grew hooded, sultry, and he leaned into her. “Especially if you’d been wearing that dress that so nicely accents your curves.”
He slipped his hands beneath her shirt and massaged his way up from her waist. She shivered at the sensations those callused but gentle fingers stirred. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, and down to her neck, and she closed her eyes, arching into him.
“You do know...” he murmured against her throat, lips sending spirals of heat to her core. “Those dazzling blue eyes are rather rare in Turgonia. Exotic.” He spoke slowly, lazily, kisses punctuating his words. “And it’s always a challenge to find a lady of sufficient height.”
She would have laughed, but his mouth returned to claim hers, and she met him with equal intensity, humor forgotten. He broke away only long enough to say, “You’re a beautiful woman, Tikaya, and I love you.”
She gave him a fierce hug before turning to other matters. There was not much talking after that, and fortunately he proved more adept than she at removing military uniforms.
* * *
Tikaya woke with a start. The soft light of the room left her confused as to the time. She was in the sphere, with its shelf of air acting as a mattress. Though she had no blanket, a cocoon of warmth kept the alien bed cozy.
Rias sat next to her, head cocked, ear toward the window.
She touched his bare back. “What is it?”
“I think I heard a scream.”
“Not one of mine?”
“Not this time.” He smiled and kissed her before crawling past her and out of the sphere. He reached the window before she maneuvered off the air cushion.
“Better get dressed.” Rias jogged to their piles of clothing and tossed hers on the bed.
“What’s going on?” She tugged her shirt over her head and tied her hair back.
“I can’t see. There’s some kind of fog out there.”
As soon as Tikaya had trousers and boots on, she hustled to the window. A gray-blue haze made it impossible to see more than a few feet. She could not
make out the reservoir, the walls, or the ground where the marines camped.
Rias belted on his sword and checked the rifle.
“Wait,” Tikaya said as he headed for the lift. “What if it’s poisonous? What if everyone is already...”
Rias hesitated, one foot on the blue circle.
A yell of pain pierced the walls and was cut off.
“They’re not dead yet,” he said.
But he did retrace his footsteps and find the towel he had used earlier. He tore it lengthwise, handed half to her, then wrapped the other half around his head to cover his nose and mouth. She tied hers and followed him down the lift.
Rias slid the door open and paused to listen before venturing out. “Stay close,” he whispered.
They slipped outside. The haze stung Tikaya’s eyes. Even through the cloth, she smelled an odor reminiscent of burnt coconut.
Rias led her toward the camp. Visibility ran only a few feet in the dense fog. They reached the first prone form, Agarik, still under his blanket.
“Is he...” she started.
Rias knelt and checked for a pulse. “He’s breathing.”
“Sleeping?”
Rias shook Agarik’s shoulder, which elicited a snore, but nothing more wakeful.
“Not the type you can be roused from apparently,” Rias said.
They crept farther and found more sleeping marines. None of them could be shaken awake, and Rias stopped trying.
At the edge of the fog, a hint of green clothing appeared on the ground to the right. Tikaya stepped over a marine to find herself staring at an unknown face with blood still streaming from a slashed throat. She struggled for detachment—and to keep from stepping in the spreading crimson pool. The dead person was small and thin-boned with a green shirt and brown trousers that lacked any hint of military uniformity. Definitely not Turgonian, but she was not sure of the nationality.