Shades of Treason (17 page)

Rykus trailed behind Ash and Hagan. He’d been kicked out of their conversation because he hadn’t stopped his “goddamn interrupting.” Hagan was the same short-tempered, condescending politician he’d always been, and Rykus had been close to powering him down a notch. He’d stepped into the war chancellor’s personal space and had opened his mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with himself, but Ash’s stillness had caught his attention. The only part of her that had moved was her lower lip, which she pulled between her teeth.

She
needed
to talk. She’d had to hold back all hints of the truth for over two weeks, and it had been killing her as surely and slowly as the days spent without a booster. Rykus couldn’t stand in the way of her liberation, so he’d swallowed his words, and difficult as it had been, he’d retreated from the verbal fight with Hagan.

It wasn’t easy to stand down. It wasn’t easy to walk behind Ash, watching her stumble and sweat and shake. He wanted to hear her voice. If it contained even a hint of her lighthearted, teasing sarcasm, he’d know she still had some time, but all he heard was Hagan’s side of the conversation, and that was like listening to a bad translation of an alien language. It grated on Rykus’s nerves as much as Hagan’s tone did. With Ash, he wasn’t condescending. He wasn’t judging or acerbic. He was understanding and sympathetic.

Or he had been. Now he stopped Ash with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“We need to know what he saw,” Hagan told her.

Ash’s chin jutted out in that stubborn, I-can-take-anything-you-throw-at-me way she had.

“Know what who saw?” Rykus asked.

Hagan’s expression immediately lost all hints of compassion. He folded his arms when he turned, placing himself slightly in front of Ash as if he were a wall sheltering a sensitive military complex. Hagan saw her as an asset, not as a person. Not as a woman. Rykus wanted to crush the wall the chancellor was attempting to build.

“Her team lead,” Hagan said. “Trevast reviewed the Sariceans’ files to make sure they contained the shipyard schematics. That’s when he found evidence that telepaths exist and that they had infiltrated the Coalition. I think he saw a list. I need to see it, but she”—he jerked his head Ash’s direction—”refuses to decrypt the files.”

“Maybe she doesn’t trust you.”

Hagan showed his teeth. “That means she doesn’t trust you either, Commander. She could have given you the cipher at any time.”

He snorted out a laugh. “If that were true, we wouldn’t be out here cut off from communication and trekking it to Ephron City.”

“It is true,” Hagan said. “And if she had given up the cipher on the
Obsidian
, the Saricean’s files would be in an intelligence committee whose members were handpicked by me. Or rather, by my assistant.”

Rykus stared at Hagan, a locking bolt sliding into place in his mind. If Hagan’s words were true, if Ash could have given him the key but chose not to because she was determined to keep the files out of the telepaths’ hands, it explained why she’d tried to push him away.

Ash didn’t look at him. She focused on the dirt at her feet. If Hagan was lying, she would signal him somehow, wouldn’t she? Glare at the war chancellor or give some other indication that his claim wasn’t true?

Or had she tried to do that and was now caught in another blackout?

“Ash?”

She glanced up. Not a blackout then. And her expression had an edge to it, as if she was silently daring him to question her decision.

Her decision to not give him the cipher.

“I used compulsion,” he said, trying to remember exactly when and what he’d commanded her to tell him. He’d asked specifically about the cipher only once, the time when she’d broken down. That’s when she’d said please, and his universe had been knocked askew.

Ash had fought the loyalty training, fought him, to keep the Sariceans’ files out of the wrong people’s hands.

No wonder this woman amazed him.

“I need to see the files,” Hagan said.

“What do the… telepaths want from the files?” It was difficult to say the word
telepath
out loud. That meant he believed they were real, and he still half expected soldiers to step out of the trees, laughing because he’d fallen for a hoax.

Hagan slipped a finger under his collar, pulling the dirty fabric away from his blistered neck. “It was something worth risking discovery for. More than just those shipyard schematics you were after.”

When he didn’t continue, Rykus asked, “What was it?”

“I’m not sure. There’s been some speculation the Sariceans have developed a new technology, a weapon or defense that could give them an advantage in armed conflicts.”

“They’ve learned how to exploit weaknesses in our sentient-class ships,” Rykus said. “They already have an advantage.”

“Our crypties are addressing those issues. No.” Hagan shook his head. “This is something different. I think Stratham knew what it was, but I don’t. That’s why you had orders to capture the Saricean vessel in addition to blowing up the shipyard. We think they’re working on a prototype.”

“Ash doesn’t know what it is?” He directed the question at Hagan but kept his gaze on his anomaly.

“No,” Hagan said. “She didn’t get a look at the files. She just re-encrypted them. But I’d bet my home world there’s reference to the technology in the data she stole. We need it decrypted.”

Ash fidgeted. She didn’t want to give the key to Hagan. That had to mean she didn’t one hundred percent trust him. That was fine by Rykus. He didn’t one hundred percent trust the man either.

“The key won’t do you any good here,” Rykus said. “We’ll decide what to do when we reach Ephron City.”

Some emotion flickered across Ash’s face. She kicked at a stone, then started walking.

“They underestimated her,” Hagan said, watching Ash depart.

“The telepaths?”

Hagan nodded. “I guarantee they don’t know there’s a list.”

Rykus raised an eyebrow his direction.

“They wouldn’t have risked letting her live,” Hagan said. “They’re extremely careful with the knowledge of their existence. It’s easier to manipulate a mind when no one knows your abilities are real.”

Rykus grunted in response. Then he followed Ash.

“Any chance we can take a break?” Hagan called after him.

“We’ll rest when we reach Shallow Valley.”

He lost sight of Ash in the purple foliage. Only for a few seconds, but when he spotted her again, she was slouched against a crooked, wizened tree, her shoulder pressing against it like they were holding each other up. Her eyes were pinched shut, and her dark hair clung to her sweat-glistened face.

Rykus glanced at the useless comm-cuff strapped around his wrist. Twenty-five and a half hours until it was fully operational. Too long. He was going to watch Ash die.

A sensation of pure helplessness charged into him.

“That lockout code is biting me in the ass.” Ash pushed away from the tree. She still looked tired, the crescents under her eyes darker than a few hours ago. She was paler too, and she kept her hands tucked under her elbows, trying to conceal how much they were shaking.

“I always warned you not to use them,” he said. Then he stopped breathing.

He thought he’d seen all of Ash’s smiles: the seductive ones she used to lure people closer, the flirtatious ones she used to keep people away, and the menacing ones she delivered right before she kicked someone’s ass. But he’d never seen this smile before. Even though it was set in a face that was smoke-smudged and exhausted, he felt its glow. It was real. It was light. It was fucking beautiful.

He would not let this woman die.

“You do have a sense of humor,” she said.

He didn’t acknowledge her words, just stepped closer and said, “You’re going to make it to Ephron City.”

She met his eyes, her smile fading. “Is that a command?”

“No fear. No failure.”

Her mouth narrowed into a thin, determined line. “No fear. No failure.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HAGAN’S INCESSANT QUESTIONING almost made Ash wish she could close the gateway she’d opened into his mind.

She’d already told him every detail she remembered—details it hurt to remember—about the boarding of her shuttle and the murders of her teammates. He’d quizzed her over and over again on Trevast’s actions, what he’d said, what he’d done, how he’d reacted to what he saw in the files. Trevast hadn’t said anything about a new piece of technology. He’d been completely focused on the fact that telepaths existed, and he was convinced they’d infiltrated the Coalition’s government. The significance of that information had stayed with him in his final moments, despite the nonsensical reference to his and Ash’s argument over fashion.

And Ash had told Hagan everything she knew about Jevan too. It didn’t matter how many different ways Hagan phrased his questions; she couldn’t tell him what she didn’t know.

She squeezed her hands into fists. It felt like her fingers were made of ice. She couldn’t even feel her broken pinky anymore. How could she be this cold when she was constantly wiping sweat from her eyes? The last time she’d been this soaked with perspiration had been when Rykus ran her and his other anomalies through Caruth’s Janul Desert. She’d almost tapped out during that stretch of their final evaluation. She’d been so dehydrated she couldn’t swallow. She could barely swallow now. The smoke poisoned the air, making her throat itch.

They were still hours away from Ephron City. Would she make it? Or would she drop dead before they…?

She shut down that line of thought.

Doubt kills.
That was another saying from Caruth. The only way to make it through the training was to believe you’d make it. The second you let doubt in was the same second your mental armor shattered. No one survived without that. Ash hadn’t tapped out three years ago. She wouldn’t tap out now.

She focused on her next step, her next breath.

I will personally review the Sariceans’ files,
Hagan said.

She glanced at the war chancellor. There’d been a two-minute reprieve from his questions, but not because he’d come up with a different angle of attack. He’d used that time to come to a decision.

She didn’t say
I’m not decrypting the files for you
. And he didn’t say
I’ll make Rykus command you to decrypt them,
but the conversation hung there between them. He was the war chancellor, the highest-ranked officer in the combined military. He’d get what he wanted.

“Is there a problem?” Rykus asked, stopping behind them.

“There won’t be,” Hagan said. “Right, Lieutenant?”

Ash looked at her fail-safe. Would Rykus order her to decrypt the files? He was a well-respected, well-known hero in the Fighting Corps. He’d been chosen to train and control anomalies because of that reputation and because he always followed the rules. That kind of man wouldn’t violate a direct order.

But she’d glimpsed a different man, a different Rykus a few hours ago. She didn’t see any sign of that person in the looming, larger-than-life officer staring at her now. She wished she could. She wished she could feel his presence like she could feel Hagan’s.

She tried again to find a frayed edge in Rykus’s conscience. She wanted to know what he was thinking, why he’d sounded so relieved when he’d said, “You’re absolved.” A man who whispered those words with such a raw conviction… that kind of man might not use compulsion against an anomaly’s will.

“Ash?”

“There’s no problem.” There wasn’t one yet. She focused on the path again. Hagan turned too, leading the way. He didn’t go far before he suddenly stopped. It took Ash’s sluggish brain two more steps to command her feet to fasten themselves to the ground too.

The forest ended. The leaf-covered dirt beneath their feet changed to rusty-orange rock, and no more than ten feet ahead, that rock plummeted down.

Rykus stopped beside her.

“Shallow Valley?” She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “This is a deep fucking canyon, Rip.”

He stared at the valley as if he was personally affronted by the steep drop off. “It’s shallow closer to Ephron.”

She laughed. It was a short, tired sound. When Rykus turned a concerned look on her, she forced her chin up, her shoulders back. She was fine. No one needed to worry about her.

Tossing the emergency pack on the ground, Rykus said, “We’ll rest here.”

Hagan dropped down. Ash waited a good handful of seconds before she gave in to gravity. She didn’t need to sit. In fact, it probably would be better not to rest at all. Moving kept her muscles loose and her mind working. Sitting… Hell, her body was already protesting the thought of moving again. Sitting wasn’t a good idea.

Rykus opened the emergency pack, tossed a ration bar to Hagan and another one to her. Hagan tore into his, but Ash watched Rykus close the pack. She hadn’t inventoried its contents. If it was a Fleet standard-issue, single-survivor pack it would have five bars. They’d all eaten one once before. Do the math, and that left them one bar short this meal.

She tossed hers back.

It hit Rykus in the chest, and even though he hadn’t seen her throw the bar, he caught it before it fell.

His expression shifted from confused to annoyed. “You’re eating.”

He tossed it back.

And she chucked it again.

“Ash—”

“I’m an anomaly. I can—”

“You’re not goddamn immortal, Ash. You’ve been through hell and you’re injured.”

“You require more calories—”

“Seeker’s God,” Rykus muttered. “Out of all the times you fight the loyalty training, can’t you make yourself fight it now? Your fail-safe doesn’t need you to take care of him.”

When he launched the bar at her head, she caught it. She fisted it in her hand hard enough to make small indentions in the dense, tasteless protein. Was that why she wanted to throw it back? Her mind was so clouded she wasn’t sure. She tried to take Rykus out of the equation. If he weren’t there, would she eat?

If he weren’t there, there wouldn’t be an issue because there’d be an extra bar.

Her head hurt. She didn’t throw the ration bar back, but she didn’t open it either.