Lindsay Buroker: Encrypted

“ Yes,” she said carefully.

“ Did your president survive the war?”

Surprise and then suspicion flooded her, and she regarded him through narrowed eyes. “Yes, why wouldn’t he have?”

“ Is he…a good man? Good for your people?”

Tikaya did not know what to make of this line of questioning and responded only with another clipped, “Yes.”

She folded her arms across her chest and decided not to answer anything further about her people or her nation, especially not anything the Turgonians might use against them. Fortunately, Five asked no more.

“ Why don’t you answer a question for me since I’m answering yours?” she suggested.

He did not respond.

“ I’ll settle for one,” she said. “Will you answer me one question?”

His soft snort hinted at amusement. Tikaya decided to take it for consideration.

“ What’s your name?” she asked.

A sigh mingled with the hum of the engines. “Not that question. Ask another.”

“ Why not that?”

“ You’re replacing your one allotted question with that one?” A hint of dryness infused his tone.

“ Yes.”

Another sigh. “They took my rank and my name as punishment. Five was my number on the penal boat going to Krychek Island, and, as far as the empire cares, it’s the only identification I have now.”

“ Krychek Island,” Tikaya breathed. “Isn’t that where they send criminals so vile they’re afraid to execute them outright? Out of fear their spirits will linger in the area and afflict the living? So they send you to the island with no food, no weapons, no resources, the assumption being you’ll kill each other off far from anyone worth haunting? They say those few who do survive turn into animals, bestial and deranged and cannibalistic and…” She caught her lip between her teeth. There she went again, probably offending the only person on this ship who had stood up for her.

“ Glad our penal island is renowned even amongst foreigners.” Five’s dryness held a bitter edge this time.

She sighed. She had offended him. And she had a new concern. If he was that much of a criminal, dare she side with him? What could he have done to merit such a harsh punishment? Brutality seemed bred into the Turgonian culture, so she struggled to imagine someone who fit their definition of vile. Five sounded normal-pleasant-but perhaps it was a facade. He had to be shackled for a reason, though Captain Bocrest’s current problems must trump that reason, or why else would Five be here?

“ But the captain came to pick you up? Isn’t Krychek Island usually a permanent residence?” she asked, wanting to be sure. “Its location is even secret, isn’t it? So families can’t make rescue attempts?”

“ Correct.” Tension riddled that one clipped word, and she hesitated before asking the next question, but she had to know if he was likely to be a threat to her.

“ What was your crime?”

Clothing rustled and the chains rattled. “No more questions.” His voice was muffled, as if he had covered his face. “Please,” he added so softly she thought she might have imagined it.

“ Of course. Sorry.” She meant it. If the place was half as bad as the stories said, she could understand not wanting to discuss it. He was probably lost in his painful memories, and only the puzzle of the language had distracted him. “Uhm, I’ll be over here, enjoying the lovely ambiance and pondering these slanted circles, dots, and sideways trees. If you want to talk later, let me know.”

She did not expect anything else from him, but he surprised her by asking, “Sideways trees?”

“ Well, if trees were symmetrical maybe. Want to see?”

“ I can’t reach the corridor.”

She grabbed one of the rubbings, folded it into a compact stack, and tossed it through his gate. His dark form shifted, so she assumed it fell within his reach, but he said nothing.

“ Can you see it?” she asked after a moment. “Is there enough light?”

“ Yes. I should have known.” He sounded grimmer than a funeral pyre. “I’ve seen them before.”

“ Where?”

“ Somewhere I never want to go again.”

“ Where?” she repeated, leaning forward.

He did not answer.

“ Five?”

Silence.

Tikaya dozed until the hatch creaked open hours later. The perennial darkness of the cell stole her sense of time, but she guessed it was evening. Her hollow stomach whined for a meal.

Footfalls rang on the metal deck. She eyed the gate warily and let out a sigh of relief when Corporal Agarik came into view-alone. He carried two metal canteens and wooden trenchers narrow enough to slide between the bars. Dried fish, dried fruit, and a couple of hard biscuits soon rested on the floor before Tikaya. Though the meal did not exactly fill the brig with scintillating scents, her mouth watered anyway.

She grabbed a biscuit and gnawed. It had the consistency of sawdust and less flavor. Agarik placed another tray, this one with a larger portion of food, on the floor in Five’s cell. He drew his cutlass and used it to push the tray deeper, presumably so the chained prisoner could reach it. Tension marked the corporal’s movements-he seemed to fear an attack at any moment-and Tikaya wondered if people had been hurt, or worse, when the marines originally locked Five up. Either that or his reputation was simply enough to instill fear. Even Sergeant Ottotark’s bravado had seemed forced. And she wanted to ally with Five? Was she insane? Just desperate, she decided.

Agarik delivered the meal without incident; the chains did not even clank to suggest movement. He sheathed his sword and turned to face her.

“ Captain Bocrest wishes to know if you’ve decided whether to cooperate voluntarily or if more…” he shrugged apologetically, “pressure is required.”

What? Threatening families-and windpipes-was not enough to sway most prisoners?

“ I’m willing to attempt the translations,” she said, “but I have terms. I can’t work in these conditions.”

“ I’ll tell him.”

“ Corporal?” Tikaya asked before he could leave.

He turned back, face guarded. He probably feared she would ask some favor he would be duty-bound to refuse.

“ Thank you for your kindnesses,” was all she said.

He nodded but said nothing. A bevy of footsteps hammered the deck, the hatch clanked open, and six burly marines clomped into view. Sergeant Ottotark followed, tapping his baton against his thigh as he walked, and Tikaya shrank into the shadows. Now what?

The six marines staggered themselves along the corridor and pointed pistols, not into her cell but into the opposite one. Tikaya stepped forward, afraid they meant to execute her neighbor, but Ottotark rattled the keys.

“ Time to visit the captain, Five.”

He unlocked the door and waved two of his men inside. They exchanged nervous glances but slid into the cell and stood on either side of the door, pistols never wavering. Ottotark took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself, then walked inside. As yet, the chains had not rattled, and Tikaya half thought Five asleep. Maybe he was just being still, hoping for a chance to escape. Though how he could do so with so many firearms pointed his way, she could not guess.

While all eyes focused on that cell, Tikaya eased forward. She eyed the belts of the men within her reach, hoping to spot a set of keys. Such luck did not favor her.

Corporal Agarik had stepped back when the others marched in, and she caught his knowing gaze on her. She sniffed and stared back. They had kidnapped her; she refused to feel guilty for thinking of escaping.

“ Up.” Sergeant Ottotark must have unlocked the chains securing the prisoner to the wall. A long still moment passed with no sign of movement in Five’s cell. “I said, get up!”