The Ruins of Karzelek (The Mandrake Company series Book 4)

by Lionsdrake, Ruby

  Chapter 5

  Early morning sunlight slanted through the tent window when Sedge woke up, and he turned his head, wishing he could recapture the dream that had danced behind his eyelids while he slept. It had involved Kalish and a game of Crucible that was being played without clothing for some reason. She had tossed the game aside, kissed him deeply, and thanked him for staying by her side during the animal attack. Unfortunately, he had woken before more than kissing happened. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t uncomfortably hard, and he glanced down with a grimace. He had been sleeping on his back, and those thin thermal blankets might be good at keeping a man warm, but they didn’t hide much.

  He glanced toward Kalish, glad she was still on her cot, lying on her side, her closed eyes toward him. He had suffered enough embarrassment without her sitting over there, eating breakfast, while he saluted her in his sleep.

  Though he knew he should not stare, he found his gaze lingering, admiring her figure in the morning light. The heater had succeeded in driving the cold from the tent, and she must have grown warm during the night, because she had pushed her blanket down to her waist, and her shirt was rucked up, revealing a few inches of lush brown skin. He wished he could run his hand over that skin, pushing her shirt up to reveal even more. The memory of seeing her topless the night before flashed into his mind, of full breasts that a man could not help but want to touch, to stroke, to taste…

  A hatch banged open outside, and Sedge jerked his gaze away. He shook his head in disgust at himself. He was on a mission. This was not the time to be thinking about sex.

  Careful to be quiet, Sedge grabbed his shirt and boots, and slipped outside before dressing. The sun had brought a modicum of warmth, but it was still frigid out. Perhaps that was a good thing; the icy air drove the heat from his body and helped him push aside thoughts of hot, passionate nights with Kalish.

  As he tugged his shirt over his head, he almost laughed at himself, at the way he had tried to flex and show off his muscles the night before. Oh, he always did his breathing exercises—they helped him relax, especially after stressful battle situations, or after situations made stressful by the proximity of annoying comrades. But he didn’t always flex quite so much in an effort to display his masculinity for nearby observers. What had he thought would happen? That Kalish would fling off her blanket, climb onto his cot, and ride him like a Mercrusean stallion?

  By the time he finished dressing and taking care of biological needs, the camp was waking up with men grumbling about breakfast. Sedge found Thatcher running a maintenance check on his shuttle, poking into the panels not accessible from inside the craft. He wore an unusually pleased expression. Belly bumping, indeed.

  Usually Sedge would walk past him with a nod, and that was probably a good idea since he needed to pack his gear and check on the program he had left running, but Thatcher was alone, and Sedge stopped, a question on his tongue. Should he ask it? Thatcher wasn’t usually in his chain of command, being the commander over the pilots’ section, but he was still a superior officer. One probably shouldn’t ask superior officers questions about sex and women. But... Mandrake Company wasn’t exactly the Fleet. As Striker’s constant irreverence always reminded him.

  “Sir,” Sedge said, his mouth getting ahead of his thoughts.

  “Yes?”

  “Kalish—Ms. Blackwell—is going to want some holes blown today. Last night, she was working on figuring out spots where the caverns might be close to the surface of the planet.” And that was so not the comment he had intended to make.

  “Excellent. It would be unfortunate if we had to abort the mission. I believe flying through caverns would be excellent training for Lieutenant Calendula.”

  There was an opening that might make this conversation slightly less awkward. “Yes, her piloting seems to be coming along well,” Sedge said, as if piloting was what he had on his mind.

  “She’s improved a great deal, given that she’s only been here three months.”

  “Yes. Uhm.” Well, he had managed to bring the topic over to Val, but now what? Sedge cleared his throat. “You and she... I mean, for most of that time, I’ve heard. Uh, you’re romantic with her, right, sir?”

  Thatcher frowned at him.

  “I don’t mean to imply there’s anything wrong with that,” Sedge rushed to say. “I was just wondering... Well, we’re kind of similar men, wouldn’t you say? Not entirely comfortable with the likes of Striker.”

  “It’s been my understanding that nobody is comfortable with Striker.”

  “Er, right, but even the other men. You choose not to socialize with them much, and I’ve always found my work and hobbies more interesting than my comrades...” Mostly because so many of his comrades had the collective IQ of rocks and the personalities to match. At least back in the Fleet, he had worked with other officers, men and women who preferred solving their problems rather than shooting their problems. He hadn’t interacted much with the grunts. “Well, men like us, we... I mean, I shouldn’t presume to talk for you, but I’ve never had a lot of success with—” he glanced around to make sure Striker and Tick weren’t around, then lowered his voice to add, “—with women.”

  Thatcher stared at him in that calm, emotionless way of his. He either thought the conversation was stupid or was perplexed as to why Sedge had started it.

  “I don’t mean to imply that I’ve never had relationships,” Sedge added, though he doubted Thatcher would have judged him on that, not like the other men, “just that I’ve often found them elusive, especially when we’re moving around all the time, on different assignments and different planets. I know some of the men have girls they see on certain space stations whenever we visit and they keep in touch through the network, but that seems so... lacking. I had girls back when I was in school and even in the Fleet where there were more female officers—especially that one captain who, for whatever reason, thought I was something special.” He grinned at the memory of his one truly illicit relationship, where he had been a cadet getting naughty with his commander. But then he realized Thatcher was staring at him as if he had sprouted horns and was speaking in a different language. Time to be succinct.

  “My point, sir, is I was wondering how someone like you got someone like Lieutenant Calendula.” That might have been too succinct. And insulting. “I mean, was she impressed by your piloting skills?” Sedge didn’t know if that was any less insulting, to imply that a woman would be attracted by something that had nothing to do with character. But Thatcher was arrogant and aloof. That was the reason Sedge found Val’s interest perplexing.

  If Thatcher found his words insulting, he didn’t show it. He gazed thoughtfully across the camp, where Val was walking into the tent.

  “Lieutenant Calendula spent time with me on a mission, and I had the opportunity to make her aware of my interest.”

  “I... don’t understand. I’ve often made women aware of my interest. They usually say, ‘Aww,’ and pat me on the cheek and walk away.” Actually, that wasn’t quite true. He attracted women now and then. It was when he started sneezing and confessing to all the foods he couldn’t eat that they started to find him a less appealing specimen. He also recalled Private Sahara pointing out that it was odd that he kept his quarters cleaner than anyone else on the ship, male or female. He had explained that was a matter of simple practicality, since a dust-free environment meant less need for drugs. She hadn’t been impressed.

  “Perhaps the key component was that we were locked in a freezer together,” Thatcher said. “She couldn’t walk away.”

  “I see,” Sedge said, though he didn’t see at all, unless Thatcher was suggesting that enforced closeness could breed fondness. But wasn’t it absence that made the heart grow fonder?

  Kalish walked out of the tent, heading off to do her own morning ablutions—he wagered they wouldn’t involve fantasizing about him with his shirt off. Unfortunately.

  “Lieutenant,” Thatcher said. “It would be inappropriate to
pursue a relationship with an employer.”

  Sedge flushed. He didn’t know what kind of look of longing—or sexual avarice—had been on his face, but he attempted to wipe it clean. “No, sir. I know, sir.”

  Thatcher had finished his maintenance checks, and he walked away without another word on the subject.

  Sedge rubbed his face, wishing he hadn’t said anything, not to Thatcher. He was usually clueless when it came to interpersonal relationships and might have been oblivious to Sedge’s interest if Sedge hadn’t been so foolish as to bring it up. Now, he would have to be careful not to show anything. No, he would have to stop thinking about her, period. That was the safe choice, the professional choice.

  He headed to the tent, so he could clear out his gear before Kalish returned, but a soft beeping coming from his tablet made him pause. During the night, his program had gathered the information it needed from the network—in addition to searching for those videos Kalish had mentioned, he had pulled in all of the known history of Karzelek and also public information on Ferago Enterprises. While his mind had been sleeping—and fantasizing about his tent mate—the computer had been compiling information. When he tapped the display, his tablet projected onto the map that hung in the air again—Kalish must have taken another look before heading out. Three dots burned a bright red at different points in the caverns, all quite distant from the mine entrance. Two more dots glowed from dim spots that were entirely off the map, some speculative location based solely on coordinates and... he wasn’t even sure what else. He would have to look at the detailed analysis later. For now, he simply grabbed the tablet and kissed it.

  “My magnificent search program, it was worth those three months of late nights in the academy when I wrote you.”

  “Do you always talk to your electronic devices?” Kalish asked, slipping back into the tent.

  For the second time in ten minutes, his cheeks flushed red. He didn’t know what in a treasure hunter’s background would have given her that knack for sneaking up on a man without making a noise, but he meant to research it.

  No, you don’t. We’re putting her out of mind and focusing only on our duty, remember?

  “Not always, no,” Sedge said, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

  “Too bad. I was curious what terms of endearment you might have for the air purifier.”

  He squinted suspiciously at her, wondering if she was about to join Striker in mocking him. But she smiled and touched his elbow as she walked past, and Sedge forgot all thoughts of suspicion.

  “To keep the body in good health is a duty, otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear,” she said, then gave him a challenging look. To see if he knew the origin of the saying?

  “Buddha, but you shortened it. The original saying is, ‘To keep the body in good health is a duty, for otherwise we shall not be able to trim the lamp of wisdom, and keep our mind strong and clear. Water surrounds the lotus flower, but does not wet its petals.’”

  The tent flap was thrust aside and Striker jogged in. “First off, seriously, Thomlin? You’re talking about lotus flowers and wet petals to a woman? That is no way to get into her sleeping roll. Second,” he added before Sedge could attempt to explain himself, “we’ve got bogeys incoming. Less than five minutes. More like four now. Get your butts in the shuttles.”

  “But,” Sedge said at the same time as Kalish, both of them pointing toward the map hanging in the air.

  “Thatcher and Calendula are leaving in two minutes. If you’re not on a shuttle, you’re going to have a lot more than giant lizards to worry about.” Striker ran out again without waiting for a response.

  “Shit,” Kalish said, grabbing the tablet and her bag.

  Sedge usually did a meticulous job of packing, so he could find what he needed in an instant, but he was forced to shove his sleeping roll and night appurtenances into his bag without any order.

  “No time to pack up the tent,” Kalish said, along with a few more curses.

  “Sorry,” Sedge said, even though it was hardly his fault. He ran outside with her, and they raced for the closest shuttle. Both craft were already hot, their motors humming. They sprinted up the ramp, with it lifting from the ground before they had reached the inside. The hatch closed behind them with a thud-hiss.

  Val sat in the pilot’s seat. Tick was throwing down a bag and sliding into the seat beside her. Thatcher and Striker were already taking off in the other shuttle.

  “I can delay them if you need more time,” Thatcher’s voice came over the comm.

  “No,” Val said, her hands dancing over the controls. “We’re right behind you. Let’s try to get out of here without them seeing us. Maybe they’ll think they missed us by hours instead of seconds.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Kalish was buckling herself into a passenger seat.

  Kalish nodded back. “If there’s not a way to convince them we were never here at all, that will have to do.”

  “We could blow up the camp,” came Striker’s voice over the comm.

  “What good would that do?” Val asked.

  “They wouldn’t see the tent or our footprints. They wouldn’t know we were there.”

  “You don’t think the big smoking crater would be a clue?” Val demanded.

  “Uh, maybe they wouldn’t notice it.”

  “Gregor, can’t you tie him to a passenger seat in the back so we can’t hear him talk?”

  “I am currently endeavoring to plot a course to the coordinates Ms. Blackwell gave me,” Thatcher said, deadpan.

  Feeling the acceleration of the shuttle, Sedge buckled himself in beside Kalish and wedged his pack between his legs. He pulled out his tablet, wanting to show her the dots his program had found.

  “Watch out for that boulder.” Tick thrust his arm toward the view screen.

  “I see it. It’s fine.”

  “We almost left one of our thrusters on it.”

  “I’m following Gregor. He’s hugging the boulders. They’re gray. We’re gray. Maybe the enemy won’t see us.”

  “Thatcher is more practiced at hugging inanimate objects than you are,” Tick said. “A few more inches might do. Just—”

  The shuttle dipped sharply, barreling into a canyon. They smashed through a cactus leaning out from the side, the flecks of whitish green flesh spattering the front of the shuttle.

  Tick coughed—he might have swallowed his gum on that move. “A few more inches might do.”

  “Listen,” Val said, her voice tense as she followed the contours of the canyon, “if you’re so much more comfortable when Gregor is hugging boulders, you could have hopped into his shuttle instead of mine. What are you all doing in here, anyway?”

  “I needed a break from Striker’s mouth,” Tick said.

  Val glanced back at Sedge and Kalish, her mouth tight and annoyed.

  Sedge held up his hands. He hadn’t been complaining. But because she had asked, he said, “Your shuttle was the one with the ramp still down.”

  “I see. I brought my critique upon myself.” She zoomed across a dry wash, trailing the other shuttle, though she did give theirs a little more air now that Tick had complained.

  As they rose out of the canyon, she tapped a control, and a holodisplay came up in front of the co-pilot’s seat. One of the rear cameras still had the terrain around the camp in sight.

  “Magnify,” Val said.

  The tent came into view, as well as four old Fleet Carvers, the winged craft suitable for air or space flight. Despite being discontinued models, they were well armed and could give the combat shuttles trouble in a fight. Right now, they were zeroing in on the camp, so maybe Val and Thatcher had gotten them away in time.

  “Any chance they’ll see it’s empty and leave it alone?” Kalish asked. “I didn’t get all of my equipment out of there.”

  One of the Carvers launched a missile. It blasted into the camp, obliterating the tent and everything around it. Shrapnel and shreds of burning fabric flew up
into the sky.

  “Never mind,” Kalish mumbled.

  “Looks like Striker got his crater after all,” Tick said.

  The Carvers flew out of the smoke and banked, their noses coming into view.

  “They either saw us leaving, or they happen to think this is a particularly fine direction to fly in,” Val said.

  “Bravo Shuttle, prepare for evasive maneuvers,” Thatcher said over the comm.

  “I thought we were already doing evasive maneuvers,” Tick groaned.

  “Hang on,” Val said.

  “Don’t lead them to the coordinates I gave Thatcher,” Kalish said. “There are probably other places to break through, but that spot looked promising. I’m still hoping we can get down there without being followed.”

  “Understood,” Thatcher said at the same time as Val said, “Got it.”

  Kalish sounded calm, but her knuckles were tight as she gripped her knees, her thumb digging in so much that it appeared painful.

  “Don’t let Tick alarm you,” Sedge told her quietly. “Val and Thatcher are good pilots, and they train for this type of situation all the time. More than train. We’re often in these types of situations.” He smiled, encouragingly, he hoped.

  “Yeah, but usually we’re fighting soldiers or other mercenaries when we see Carvers flinging missiles,” Tick said, chomping on a fresh wad of gum. “This was supposed to be a little mining outpost. Where’d they get fighters?”

  “Mining outposts would be robbed by pirates every day if they couldn’t defend themselves.” Sedge glared at the back of Tick’s head, willing him not to say anything else that might make Kalish uneasy. The cactus bits splattered across the view screen had that handled.

  “Tick just doesn’t like to fly,” Sedge told Kalish. “He’s happiest on the ground with his boots in the mud, tracking lowlife bandits.”