Free Honour's Knight by Rachel Bach Page A

wake up. If I was dreaming, then I must have nodded off in my suit, which meant I needed to wake myself back up as soon as possible. If Basil caught me snoozing on the job, I would never hear the—
    Watch.
    I almost jumped out of my skin. The word wasn’t a sound. It was a thought, a sharp command that slid through my mind like freezing water, and my eyes popped open to see Ren staring at me.
    Standing on top of the snowdrift, she was actually a little taller than I was. She used the height to her advantage, staring down at me until I couldn’t look away. When she had my utter and undivided attention, the captain’s daughter turned and started walking over the snow toward the trampled path Caldswell’s group had left, dragging me behind her.
    It was awkward as hell trying to walk through drifts when the person you’re trying to keep up with could walk on top of them. I floundered in the deep snow, tripping over hidden rocks and holes every few steps. By the time we reached the path the captain and the others had trodden down, my legs were burning and I was out of breath. I was pretty damn sick of this dream, too, but I couldn’t wake up. I’d even tried stumbling deliberately in the hopes that the fall would do it, but all I’d gotten for my trouble was a mouthful of snow I couldn’t even taste.
    By the time I gave in and let Ren lead me, we’d caught up with the captain. I hadn’t noticed before, thanks to the blizzard, but the flat spot we were standing on was actually a plateau nestled in the lee of a taller mountain. Caldswell was at the edge of the cliff where the mountain began to climb again, stomping down the snow in front of what looked like a metal door set into the rock itself.
    I rolled my eyes. Leave it to me to dream about bunkers, but at least I’d dreamed up a solid one. The door was heavy enough to take a cannon blast, and now that I was looking for them, I could see little slits set high in the stone beside it, perfect for ventilation and shooting down at an enemy from cover. Not that there would ever be anyone to shoot at out in this wilderness.
    When he was done clearing a space to stand, Caldswell walked up to the heavy door and knocked politely, like he was a neighbor come over to pay his respects. I didn’t think whoever was inside would be able to hear such a soft sound over the gale, but I was wrong, because the door opened immediately, the heavy metal slab swinging inward to reveal a large, dark room.
    From where we were standing, I could see that the bunker stretched back into the mountain for quite a ways, but I didn’t want to see any more. The moment the lock on the door clicked open, a painful knot of dread formed in my stomach. Dream or not, I did not want to go into that dark room.
    But my opinion didn’t matter. Caldswell was going in, and Ren, both the bundled up one I’d seen leaving the ship and the barefoot one with the death grip on my hand, was following him. I tried digging in my heels, but while I could easily have lifted the real Ren over my head even without my suit, dream Ren was strong as a cargo loader. I kept fighting anyway, straining with all my strength until Ren looked over her shoulder.
    Don’t fight. Watch.
    Her face was blank as always, her mouth still, but I felt each word like a slap across my mind. I was still smarting from it when she yanked me forward, dragging me the last few inches through the bunker door, which had already closed. We passed through the heavy steel like ghosts, and I found myself standing right beside the cook.
    He was so close, the fog of his breath mixed with mine. I gritted my teeth in preparation for the revulsion, but it didn’t come. Confused, I blinked hard and looked again, but the result was the same. The inexplicable nausea was gone.
    For a moment, I felt elated, and then I remembered that this was a dream. Still, I wasn’t one to waste opportunities, real or not, and I took the chance to actually look at the cook