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 only 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.
She was about to peer out the window to check on Rias’s progress, when her gaze snagged on a clear tank against the far wall. All the furnishings were made from the usual black material, but that piece was as clear as Tenesian glass. An inkling that it might be a bathtub enticed her further. Why settle for washing in front of marines and teenage assassins in the reservoir when she had this private room? And with the men off exploring, what were the odds anyone would stumble upon her? Hammer blows started up outside, so the two remaining men were busy on Rias’s project.
Wary about making assumptions and touching the wrong thing, she puzzled over a small plaque near the ledge. She recognized the symbols for water and animals, but who would bathe animals? Then the pieces clicked into place: not animals, fish. It was an aquarium. Perhaps the plant siphoned off aquatic life from the stream for saving or for studying, or perhaps they simply liked observing fish for the same reasons as humans. Either way, Tikaya grinned. She was not above bathing in an aquarium.
She fiddled with the controls, and soon water flowed from an overhang around the inside of the tank. Her grin widened when she discovered she could change the temperature. Not only could she have a bath, but she could
