“ 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 have a hot bath.
She snorted at herself. Such a female characteristic to be so tickled at the idea of a warm bath. She shrugged, removed her boots, and unbuttoned the Turgonian military jacket with relish. How she missed her sandals and loose hemp dresses.
There was no place nearby to set the clothing, so she folded it and crossed the room to leave everything on something octagonal, flat, and chest-high she decided to call a table. She skipped back to the tank and slipped over the side. Warm water embraced her, and she shivered with delight. She unbraided her hair, submerged everything, then draped her arms over the sides and laid her head on the ledge. Bliss. The bath reminded her of the volcanic hot springs near her family’s property. She wondered how everyone back home was doing. The harvest would be over by now. She had missed her nephew’s birthday and her parents’ anniversary celebration. She closed her eyes, lost in memories of home.
“ Tikaya?” Rias called sometime later.
She sat up, and water sloshed over the side. When had the hammering stopped outside?
“ Tikaya, are you all right?”
“ Fine!” She scrambled out of the tub. “I’m fine up here.”
Naked and dripping water, she peered about for something to use as a towel.
“ You didn’t touch anything, did you?” He sounded like he was right below the lift.
She darted for her clothes even as air whooshed.
Rias appeared on the platform before she made it half way. Worry furrowed his brow, and he clutched her journal. That expression changed to a wide-eyed gape when he spotted her.
Frozen mid-step, Tikaya felt ridiculous-and guilty at being caught relaxing while everyone else worked.
“ I, uhm, sorry.” She stood, dripping, not sure where to put her hands or how to explain. “I found this tub, you see, and it’s been so long, and, well, one does get sort of dirty tussling with tunnel monsters and marching across the tundra, and…”
Rias was just staring. She really ought to shut up and put some clothes on.
He closed his eyes and clenched a fist, looking very much like a man trying to control his temper. With rigid, precise motions, he walked to the table, placed the journal on it, and turned his back on her.
“ Take your time,” he rasped, then stepped on the platform and disappeared.
Belatedly, she realized it was not his temper he had been struggling to control. Her first thought was that she should have hopped into his arms and invited him to join her in the tub. Her second thought was to remember he was on top of the Kyatt Islands enemies-of-state list and that she had no idea what kind of seeds Sicarius’s promises had planted in his head. The third thought ran the way of dismissing the second and seeing what might come of the first.