* * *

  They needed a plan, thought Roskvir, as he led Kerauna on through bulkhead corridors of the Tanngnjostr.

  He’d possessed some vague notion of a plan before they’d come aboard, at least. But the loss of their swift derailed everything. Without it, a quick and discreet escape seemed impossible.

  Two harried midshipmen rounded a corner ahead, and Roskvir bristled. But the sailors did little more than stop and salute his rank insignia as he continued past them.

  So they needed another way off the Tanngnjostr. After retrieving Aurelia, perhaps they could… secret the princess to the docking bay, steal another docked swift, and then pilot it away?

  Amid the storm, and perhaps as well through bursting flak, while under fire from the other swifts and corvettes that would come after them in pursuit?

  The sounds of a cannon bombardment decimating his nearby comrades had been etched into Roskvir’s memory like none other from a career well-traveled in violence. The thought of bringing Aurelia anywhere near such dangers repulsed him.

  He held out a fist behind to signal Kerauna to halt as a troop of marines jogged across an intersection a few corridors ahead. Precious seconds ticked away while they waited.

  Kerauna’s presence confounded everything all the worse, he thought, scowling. It was already hard enough to figure out what to do without her complicating their mission.

  And what hope could she have of success, if his own chances were so slim? Even if by some miracle she could acquire the information she sought and evade capture, to what triumph could she possibly return, once the Tanngnjostr’s naval artillery liquidated her commander’s stronghold? That was clearly the warship’s next objective given its speed and bearing — the shogun was on the warpath, by then surely aware Thjali had betrayed him.

  Once they reached the crossroad juncture through which the marines had passed, Roskvir came to an abrupt stop. Without a hand signal, Kerauna bumped into him from behind.

  A direct route to Aurelia’s quarters wasn’t far, he realized, if he took a turn at that juncture. But he’d been navigating toward Kerauna’s objective on the Tanngnjostr first. At least until then.

  Operating under the assumption that he actually should help Kerauna, it would be fastest and safest to steal the intelligence first, then reach Aurelia second. They couldn’t hope to do it the other way around: it would be impossible to ferry a young child to the intelligence archive without attracting untenable levels of attention. So if he and Kerauna were to accomplish anything else, they needed to get it out of the way before reaching the princess.

  But he faltered, at that intersection.

  He and Kerauna might not have time to accomplish both their objectives before the shogun began his attack on the native’s stronghold. After which, the danger of any escape attempt would be dozens of times greater.

  He’d given her fair warning, he thought. It would be by no means dishonorable, to do what he then considered.

  To throw her to the wolves.

  After she’d been the sole reason he’d even had the chance to get that far, in the first place.

  He glanced back over his shoulder.

  ‘Kerauna,’ was her name.

  She was still staring at the ground, just as he’d instructed. Trusting him to lead her where she so desired. Even as she weathered the fear Roskvir knew came to all who laid their eyes on the Tanngnjostr, still she remained determined to trudge along after him. Resigned to whatever fate he decided for her.

  He took a deep breath.

  Betraying her then would be impossibly messy, anyway, he decided. She was a complication indeed, but it would only complicate matters further if she realized he was betraying her. And she’d survived an encounter with Thjali, so she was surely a sjaelsvabener of great prowess. If she were powerful enough, he might not even survive the ensuing duel, let alone retain the freedom of action to continue his mission.

  And Kerauna, too, wished for the princess’ safety. She might prove a valuable ally, as long as they were aligned in that regard.

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  He started down the juncture’s left-hand fork.

  Best just to keep to that initial plan, he thought. Reach the archive first.

  Keep his conscience just a little lighter.

  * * *

  Two guards were posted by the nondescript door to the communication’s archive, just as Roskvir had suspected. He waved Kerauna back, retreating from the corner before they noticed him peering down the hallway.

  There was no time to spare for any delay, he knew. Crew and marines populated the Tanngnjostr’s corridors with increasing frequency. Even with the klaxons still quiet, it was clear the terrible warship was closing in on its prey.

  But neither could he afford any mistakes. Kerauna was inconspicuous enough to pass by the average soldier unnoticed, with just her borrowed uniform as disguise. But the guards ahead were paying much closer attention. They couldn’t risk it.

  He watched for a lull in the nearby foot traffic, then pulled Kerauna along, ushering her into a maintenance access he’d spotted a few yards back.

  “You… not can go farther. I must go just me,” he whispered, as he closed the hatch behind them.

  “Why? What’s beyond?”

  “The room ahead, with guards… that is… how to say… if there will be information that can help you… that is where is.”

  She frowned in confusion.

  “If that’s the case, then I need to go ahead.”

  “No… can’t.” Roskvir shook his head. “They not will let you. If we go both, then, very bad.”

  He could tell that explanation wasn’t satisfactory. But there was no other way.

  “Your skin,” he said. “The color of… I said, before. It is… not often, in my people. Bring too much eyes to you. Not time…can’t explain more. Just need to you stay. Tell what you want me. Quick. If is there… I find for you. Then I come back here with, after finding.”

  “I suppose I don’t have much choice,” she said.

  “Please, then, fast. Tell me.”

  He could see the frantic pace of her thoughts even in the darkness.

  “Well, it's a comms archive, right? If there’s any correspondence that references the weapon at all, take it. Or ‘Atum-Ra.’ Especially anything discussing future use of similar weapons, of course, but I assume I shouldn’t hope for something so specific…”

  Roskvir shrugged.

  “Well, if you can find any reference to either the weapon itself or Atum-Ra, then we can piece together something with context. Anything would be better than what we have to go on, now. The more specific about why they did what they did the better. But anything that gives a clue. The weapon, or Atum-Ra.”

  He nodded, feeling around for the hatch’s handle.

  “Roskvir?”

  He glanced back. His name sounded strange, morphed by her accent.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Roskvir nodded again as he stepped out of the hatch. But not without some hesitation, then. It truly was treason that he was committing, he thought.

  He decided not to dwell on it. Instead, he donned a facade of confidence, rounded the corner, and strode with purpose toward the archive guards.

  But after saluting them, he almost choked. For a brief moment, he had to remember how to speak in Albian, rather than Setetic.

  “Kapitanleutnant Englihavt, on behalf of his excellency the shogun,” he managed at last.

  He didn’t want to make the lie more complicated than necessary, but hoped using the shogun’s name and so his status as aide-de-camp would suffice to win him entry. He whipped his salute back down to his waist, and waited.

  A few dozen pairs of boots marching at double in the hall behind him grew louder in the hall behind him, then passed. One of the guards shifted his weight, then cleared his throat, still staring straight ahead.

  “I’m sorry, sir… but the rank of kapitanleutant doesn’t confer archive clearance… I’ve heard of your promotion, Kapitanleutant Englihavt, sir… but if the shogun hasn’t finalized it… you don’t have clearance, yet. Not unaccompanied, at least…”

  Damn.

  He just needed to… get his way, then, regardless of protocol. Bluster and his reputation had always been enough, for everything else.

  Thjali always seemed to get her way, he thought.

  He looked down his nose at the guardsman, startling him with an aggressive stamp forward, as he channeled memories of his old commander’s wellspring of contempt.

  “Did you not hear me? The shogun sent me. You know who he is, I assume? Who I am?”

  The man swallowed, and Roskvir pitied him. But it was necessary.

  “You will permit me forward.”

  The guard almost began some further protest, but Roskvir was quicker.

  “I could just go back to his office, and have him simply sign a note, like I was a schoolboy, if that’s what you really want. But you are aware of what’s happening, right now, aren’t you? We’re on campaign, right now. In minutes, it's going to be general quarters. And the shogun wants the records he’s requested for now. If you’re going to make me double back, then you’re going to have to tell me your name, soldier. Because I will have an explanation for him, as to why I was delayed.”

  Before Roskvir had even finished, the guardsmen were goose-stepping aside.

  “To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy.”

  Sun Tzu