Chapter 115
Rikka stayed crouched in the hidey hole in the captain’s office. Air was getting in, but not much. It was hot, stuffy, and there was only so long you could remain alert by panic as hour after boring hour had dragged by.
She’d tried to keep herself awake by reciting some food poetry she’d memorized. But a Basho poem was only so long:
Coolness of the melons
flecked with mud
in the morning dew.
Maybe she’d learn some Robert Frost next time or a couple of Shakespeare plays or something.
Rikka hadn’t meant to curl up in the corner, it had just kind of happened. And closing her eyes hadn’t changed the quality of the dark.
She snapped awake to the rattle she’d come to recognize, the captain’s key unlocking the hidden panel.
Groping around in the darkness, her fingers tracked
