Encrypted

  Tikaya cringed. She should have hidden the journal. Assuming no one else could read her language had been foolish.

  “Lancecrest claimed the sequence only worked once,” Sicarius said, “and his team has been stymied since.”

  “Give the book back to Tikaya now that you’ve got what you wanted,” Rias told Sicarius.

  Bocrest glanced at Rias, startled eyes wide. Even the captain had not dared give the emperor’s assassin a direct order. But Sicarius handed the journal back to Tikaya without missing a step.

  “Thank you,” she said, though it seemed obsequious to thank him for returning something he had stolen out of her rucksack. He was going to be a problem—as if she did not have enough problems already. She needed more allies out here, not more enemies, and her only option was the team that waited within. “Why did Lancecrest fire the rocket on your fort?” she asked Sicarius.

  He did not respond or even glance her direction.

  “I’m just wondering why one of your citizens would turn on your people like that. Is living in the empire that bad? Are people disaffected and eager to fight back against the oppressive rule of your emperor?” She hoped to goad the assassin into speaking, but it was Bocrest who responded.

  “There’s nothing wrong with living in the empire,” he snapped. “If that Lancecrest brat was motivated by anything, it’d be money.”

  “I didn’t know slaying marines in remote outposts could be profitable,” Tikaya said.

  Rias’s lip twitched. He was staying silent, but she decided it did not represent disinterest or annoyance at her sleights toward the empire. In general, he was not as garrulous around the marines as he was alone with her, and she imagined all but the closest of his men had known him as a quiet, enigmatic leader.

  “I only bring it up,” Tikaya said, “because it might be useful to know why Lancecrest was attacking your people and whether those left inside are out to get you, too, or if he was the leader and now they’re rootless.”

  “I’d like answers to those questions too,” Rias said when Sicarius did not respond. “What happened on that ledge?”

  Sicarius glanced at the squad of marines following them, men who had grown silent as soon as the conversation started. Rias nodded to Bocrest, and the captain called a halt. He, Rias, and Sicarius walked ahead to speak privately. Tikaya followed. She’d asked the questions, and she intended to get the answers.

  The assassin watched her walk up, his gaze cold and unwavering. He didn’t want her there. She folded her arms and leaned on the wall. Too bad. Rias’s eyes crinkled.

  “I was too late to stop Atner Lancecrest,” Sicarius told Rias and Bocrest. No remorse or angst colored his tone. He spoke it like a simple fact. “But I learned much from questioning him. He originally heard of the tunnels from Colonel Lancecrest, who disliked his assignment and wanted to retire. He told Atner about the possibility of ancient valuables and asked for a split of whatever profits were made.

  “So they intended to be relic raiders from the start,” Tikaya said.

  “Atner Lancecrest started assembling a multinational expedition of archaeologists and linguists a year ago, and they’ve been inside for several months. They came for relics. They found the weapons. Atner revised his plan. He decided to figure out how to get the weapons so he could hand them to the emperor and gain favor for his family. Some of his team, which included a handful of Nurians, were against that. A pair of them slipped away with a box. They warned their government, and—”

  “The box that was delivered to the capital?” Bocrest asked. “The one that killed hundreds?”

  “Yes,” Sicarius said. “The Nurians delivered it, and, after the deaths, they sent a message telling the emperor to seal the tunnels forever or more killer artifacts would be delivered.”

  “Your emperor doesn’t seem the sort to heed threats,” Tikaya said.

  “No.”

  “Nor,” Rias said, “does he suffer fort commanders who share top secret orders with little brothers. Or little brothers whose actions result in the deaths of hundreds.”

  “But he didn’t know about the Lancecrest involvement when he sent you,” Tikaya said to Bocrest, “did he?”

  “No,” Bocrest said. “But Lancecrest—both of them—would have known they’d be in an ore cart full of shit as soon as their roles came out.”

  Rias nodded. “It would have been more than their deaths. For a disgrace like that, the emperor could take away the entire family’s warrior caste status and wipe their ancestors’ deeds from the history books.”

  Tikaya raised her eyebrows at Rias, wondering if his act of disobedience had created a similar backlash for his family. He seemed to guess her question, for he hesitated, then shook his head. She took that to mean not as drastic a result, perhaps, but some backlash, yes.

  “I don’t get it,” Bocrest said. “The family’s wrecked, but why make things worse by killing everyone in Wolfhump and Fort Deadend?”

  “To delay your party?” Tikaya guessed. “If Lancecrest knew he was dead if he stayed in the empire, maybe he wanted to get the weapons out so he could sell them to the highest bidder. Maybe his family would forgive him if they could all live the life of luxury in some remote paradise.”

  “But he got himself killed.” Bocrest nodded to Sicarius. “So, now all we’re dealing with is a confused bunch of science twits with no leader.” He appeared pleased at the prospect.

  “And possibly Colonel Lancecrest and an indeterminate number of his men,” Rias said.

  Tikaya nodded, thinking of the half-eaten marine they had found in the lab with the creatures.

  “What?” Bocrest asked. “He’s dead. I saw his body.”

  “Are you sure it was him?” Rias asked. “Or was the skin melted by the gas?”

  Bocrest opened his mouth, shut it, then spat. “You’re right. I saw a body in his office and a jacket with his name on it on the chair, but it could have been anybody. Bloody ancestors, he’ll be a pain to deal with if he’s in here. Pissed his little brother slagged things up so badly and left him to endure the aftermath.”

  Tikaya listened bleakly. She had been hoping for fellow archaeologists to ally with; instead she might have another cursed Turgonian military commander waiting. She looked to Rias, hoping for some comfort there, but his face was inscrutable. She still had no idea what he thought about his emperor’s desire to obtain these weapons.

  “But his team is stuck, right?” Bocrest said. “If they could get to the weapons, they’d have taken them and disappeared by now.”

  “Correct,” Sicarius said. “They lack what we have.” His gaze came to rest on Tikaya again.

  Her bleakness increased. When this had started, she had worried her skills would not be enough to keep her family safe. Now she worried her skills would be enough.

  “Valuable intelligence,” Rias told Sicarius. “Good work.”

  Tikaya jerked with surprise. Was he actually complimenting an assassin on the bounty his torture session had yielded?

  “Yes,” Sicarius said, apparently unaffected by the praise.

  * * * * *

  The tunnel opened into a cavern with a ceiling that disappeared into darkness. A chasm over a hundred feet wide yawned across the center, cutting through walls as well as the floor. A multistory building perched near the edge on their side, and eagerness quickened Tikaya’s step—finally, a chance to see something more than a lab. A plant for distributing water, she guessed. Pipes ran vertically and horizontally from the structure, and a smokestack rose as far as the eye could see. A reservoir adjacent to the building held driftwood-littered water, which trickled over the edge on one side, flowing into the chasm.

  Tikaya peered over the edge. Darkness and distance cloaked the bottom—if there was one. The black floor ended at the lip and started again on the other side. The tidy cobweb-free tunnels made Tikaya forget how much time had passed since this place had been created, but this chasm, which appeared to have formed after the complex was
abandoned, reminded her that thousands of years, maybe tens of thousands of years, stood between then and now.

  “Looks like we’ve caught up with the other team.” Rias pointed at a tunnel entrance on the far side. Tikaya froze. Two men stood in it, and one had shaggy red-blond hair and a scruffy beard. She could not make out features at the distance, but they reminded her of Parkonis and sent a painful jab through her mind. Though her islands did not have the only blonds in the world, that hair coloring combined with the likelihood this was an archaeologist made her suspect this was one of her people. The second figure, dark-haired and dark-skinned, wore black and carried a musket. He could have been one of Bocrest’s men. The pair stepped back into the darkness when they noticed the marines watching them.

  “How’d they get over there?” Bocrest asked. “And how do we follow?”

  “Assuming they have a practitioner studied in telekinetics, they could have floated across,” Tikaya said.

  Bocrest’s expression turned sour. “Starcrest, you know any other tunnels that lead over to that side?”

  “No. I don’t know what’s over there. We were desperate to escape by the time we got here. We climbed those pipes and got out through a vent mountainside.”

  Bocrest growled and gazed about. Two other tunnels left the cavern on their side.

  “Karsus,” the captain said, “take your squad through that one and see if there’s a way across the gulf. Everyone else with me. We’re checking this one.”

  “I’d prefer to stay here and study the journal,” Tikaya said. “Not to mention there’s probably much I could learn in that building.” And maybe, if she was alone, those archaeologists would come visit her and she could find out more.

  “You’re not staying alone,” Bocrest snapped.

  “I can stay too,” Rias said.

  “Oh, yes, I’m going to leave you two alone to conspire.”

  “Bet they want to do more than conspire.” Someone snickered.

  Bocrest silenced the commenter with a glare.

  “It’s possible there’s something in the pumping house that could get us across,” Rias said.

  Bocrest’s gaze landed on the assassin. “Will you keep an eye on them?”

  “Yes,” Sicarius said.

  Tikaya grimaced. A babysitter who was young enough to be Rias’s son. Lovely.

  Before the marines reached the tunnels, Rias was already checking out the reservoir. An underground stream fed the pool, and the current had pushed logs and branches to the nearest side. He gazed thoughtfully at the wood.

  Though eager to explore the building, Tikaya dropped her rucksack and joined him at the edge. She could not remember her last bath, but dipping a finger in the icy water stole her fantasies of immersing herself. Maybe she could heat some up for washing later.

  “Getting an idea?” she asked as Rias pondered the driftwood.

  “Perhaps.”

  “You don’t think the marines will find another way around?”

  “If that rift is a result of a fault line, it could run a long way.” Rias tapped a finger in the air toward the building. “The last time I was here, I found a fantastic cutting tool in there. It burned through stone, wood, and metal like a knife slicing apple custard. If those archaeologists didn’t find it...” He dragged one of the logs out of the water and nodded to himself.

  Tikaya waited for him to explain further, but the assassin appeared at Rias’s shoulder. Tikaya jumped. She had not seen or heard the youth’s approach.

  “Ah, good,” Rias said, less discombobulated. “I’ll need some more muscle.”

  Sicarius had to be curious, but his expression never changed.

  “What do you think, young man?” Rias asked. “Ever want to fly?”

  Sicarius gave the faintest hint of an eyebrow twitch.

  “Let’s get this wood out of the water,” Rias said.

  “Can I help?” Tikaya wondered what he planned.

  “How are your carpentry skills?

  “Er. I helped my father build a birdhouse once.”

  “An impressive project.” Rias smiled and pulled another log out. “But don’t you want to explore the pumping house and look for language clues?”

  “Yes.” Though her curiosity would have to wait for satisfaction, she would rather translate runes than hammer nails anyway.

  “Be careful in there. Touching things is how my team got in trouble. Multiple times.”

  “I won’t touch anything,” she said. “Unless I can read the label and know what it is.”

  With journal in hand, Tikaya headed to the structure. Though dwarfed by the cavern, it rose more than fifty feet and sported three rows of windows along each side. She paused inside the threshold, patting down pockets until she located a pencil. Before she headed deeper, Sicarius spoke to Rias.

  “I bring you a message from the emperor.”

  Her ears perked.

  “Oh?” Rias said.

  “He believes you’ve been sufficiently punished for your transgressions and is willing to return everything to you—your name, your rank, your land—if you cooperate with Bocrest and myself and we’re able to accomplish this mission.”

  Tikaya pressed a hand against the wall. She barely saw the vast room she had stepped into as she waited for Rias’s answer. When it came, it was so soft she almost missed it.

  “My ship? My command?”

  “Yes,” Sicarius said. “You can return with Bocrest, in command of the Emperor’s Fist until you can be transferred to the Raptor and resume your full duties.”

  Say no, Tikaya urged. Tell him and your sprite-licked emperor to fall on their swords.

  “What is the mission exactly?” Rias asked.

  Tikaya clenched a fist around her pencil. What was he doing? He couldn’t possibly be considering this offer. He had to know it was only coming because the war had gone badly after he disappeared. Disobeyed orders or not, the emperor must have realized he overreacted and come to regret ousting his star admiral.

  “Kill the terrorists mucking around in here,” Sicarius said, “obtain the weapons for our use, and seal the tunnels.”

  There. All her suspicions confirmed. She wished she had been wrong.

  “And what of Tikaya?” Rias asked.

  “She’s only here to help with the translations.”

  “Bocrest has orders to kill her.”

  Tikaya nodded to herself, thankful Rias cared enough to be concerned. He might be tempted by the promise of getting his command—his life—back, but she did not believe he would throw her to the wolves on the way. She might even be the sticking point in this insidious proposition.

  “Bocrest’s orders were to ensure her cooperation by whatever means necessary,” Sicarius said. “If we complete the mission, you’ll outrank him again, and you can choose who lives or dies. If you own her loyalty, perhaps you could convince the emperor that it would be more desirable to employ a gifted cryptographer than kill her.”

  Own her loyalty? Presumptuous ass. But he was good. Curse him, he was good. Bocrest never could have swayed Rias, but this seventeen-year-old kid had all the right answers.

  “I will consider your offer,” Rias said, giving away nothing of his thoughts. “For now, let’s get working.”

  “Agreed.”

  Tikaya headed into the room. Her interest in exploring had diminished, but she did not want to be caught eavesdropping. She forced herself into work mode. If the others came in, they would expect her to have made progress.

  Tanks and pipes dominated the back half of the vast room, but she gravitated toward rows of black panels where more symbols than she had seen in one place marked the faces. A large oval glowed softly, displaying what she guessed were schematics or diagrams monitoring the station. She copied symbols, but her mind dwelled on Rias’s conversation with the assassin, and she struggled to concentrate.

  “Focus,” she muttered to herself.

  She tilted her head back to massage her neck and noticed o
nly two rows of windows. There were three outside, so there had to be another story up there. No stairs, ladder, or anything similar led upward. Turgonians had steam-powered lifts in their taller buildings—might this advanced race have something like that too?

  She circumnavigated the interior, finally spotting a pale blue circle glowing on the floor in one corner. Thinking it might mark a place where a lift would descend, she waved a hand above it. Nothing happened. She pressed her boot into it and pulled it out. Nothing. Finally, she stood in the center with both feet planted.

  Air whooshed around her.

  “Errkt,” she blurted, dropping her journal.

  A platform of air thrust from below, propelling her upward. A circle in the ceiling slid aside, and the force raised her through a hole. As soon as her feet cleared the aperture, the floor slid back into place, and she stood on a second blue circle. It felt solid, but she jumped to the side anyway.

  A cozy space spread before her. Though she could identify little at first glance, she had the impression of living quarters and furnishings. Perhaps the caretaker for the pumping house had dwelled there. If so, she had a chance to see beyond the weapons-building, experimenting-on-humans side of the ancient people.

  Tikaya roamed the space, repeatedly reminding herself not to touch things. Furnishings included cubes, octagonal structures, high tables, and a large hollow sphere open on two sides. No knickknacks or artwork decorated the surfaces, nor could she find practical tools such as eating implements, but perhaps all that had been taken when the occupant left for...wherever these people went.

  There was one exception. In a storage area, she found a rack designed to hold spheres slightly smaller than her fist. The rest of the concave slots were empty, save for one. She slid the smooth black sphere out. A few groupings of runes ringed the center. She did not recognize them, but eagerness suffused her. Here was an artifact she could take with her to show the world. She pocketed it to check against the runes in Lancecrest’s journal later.