Honor Among Thieves

  “Don’t hold back, Zara,” Nadim said, gently. “We have to trust each other.”

  I gave in and let him share those memories. With her heightened connection, Bea saw them now too. She bounced right out of the link, shivering in her skin, hands held to her mouth as if she might vomit, but it was more shock than sickness.

  Nadim was rocked too. “Typhon showed you this?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  No Honor ever came back from the Journey.

  And maybe, just maybe, we’d figured out why.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Breaking Ties

  “TYPHON IS ARMORED up like a tank and carries six rail guns. I don’t think he went through all that bioengineering for fun. You might carry one gun for fun—well, I would—but six?”

  I could see the whirl and crash of thoughts behind Bea’s eyes. “Maybe that’s why their Honors choices have changed. More military officers have been chosen. Maybe they’re trying to learn how to fight better,” she said.

  That hit me hard, for some reason. Typhon had once been a gentle soul, like Nadim. He’d been twisted by what he went through. Maybe violence didn’t come naturally to the Leviathan. It wouldn’t, to a species that hadn’t evolved in the competitive hothouse that humans had.

  “If they don’t use their weapons on other Leviathan, then they have to be squaring off against an alien species,” I said.

  “There are few we’ve encountered who could hurt us,” Nadim replied. “Most species who develop that level of technology in conjunction with sufficient aggression have used it to destroy themselves. As humans were bent on doing, before.”

  “So you don’t even have a guess?”

  “My records are incomplete.”

  I hated that the Leviathan suckered humans into some private struggle, but the idea that they dragged their younger kin into it without warning—that was another level of disgust.

  “Nadim needs to be armed,” Bea said then.

  “I’m not allowed to have them yet.”

  She was implacable. “So what? Were there instructions on how to attach that weapon you were making, Zara?”

  Nadim answered, reluctantly, “I was able to take some of the data from Typhon. Including the plans for how to install the weapons. And my . . . alarm. But perhaps we should wait.”

  I wasn’t having that. “If there are enemies out there who want to kill your people, you need the ability to fight them. No arguments, Nadim. Whatever you’ve got in storage, we are going to install. Now.”

  Bea said, “I’ll take inventory and see if there’s anything we can scrap to build something we can use for defense. Or offense. Nadim, I’d be grateful if you’d line up any details on the weaponry that the Elders use.”

  “I don’t have much,” he said. “But I will.”

  “I’ll be on the supply deck,” Bea said.

  No point in wasting time. I got to work too. There were complicated instructions for attaching the weapon to Nadim’s exterior; he’d have to reroute some nerve endings to control and power the device, but we needed to position it and clamp it down first. Nadim would then graft skin around it, integrating fully with his body.

  The self-powered cart glided effortlessly ahead of me into the airlock, and I stood beside it in my skinsuit while the atmosphere cycled out. When the outer door opened, it did so without a sound, and suddenly I was . . . there. Drifting in the stars, just like Nadim.

  It took all my concentration to pull myself away from the dizzy expanse and focus. The mass of the weapon made it dangerous once I had it out in space, but Nadim altered his speed and trajectory to help me maneuver it within a fraction of a centimeter to its assigned spot, which meant all I had to do was activate the biotech seal between his skin and the base of the weapon. I’d have to wait a bit for the connection to take, so I allowed myself to really look around.

  This was my first spacewalk. The enormity of it, and the lonely smallness of my body, took my breath away. We were in a bright, busy part of the Milky Way galaxy, thick with stars, and it was hard to imagine that Nadim’s home was so vast, so cold, so beautiful. So many stars. I could feel the life of them all around me—and even though I wasn’t currently deep bonded with Nadim, I could hear them. Not clearly. Not the way he did. But when I closed my eyes, I could still make out the positions of the burning points of light, the ancient swirl of slow movements. Dark occlusions of planets.

  My awe was interrupted when I felt a bright, hard stab of pain. Not mine. Nadim’s. “It’s all right,” his voice said in my suit comm. “That was the nerve connection being made. There is some discomfort as the grafting begins. The technology is not completely compatible, but it will work.”

  “Okay,” I said. The red wash of feeling ebbed. Now it just felt like a bad bruise. “So, do you want to test it while I’m out here? In case you need me to, ah, adjust something?”

  Nadim fired the cannon at a nearby asteroid. I don’t know if he meant to use that much power—from the shock that flashed through me, it seemed like he hadn’t—but it damn sure worked. Energy blew out of the open end of it in a thick plasmatic stream, bright as the stars, so bright that even though the skinsuit darkened the goggles to save my vision, I couldn’t blink away the afterimage. No sound, of course, except my surprised yelp and fast breathing. The energy cut out in another second, and Nadim said, “That . . . feels . . .” He didn’t finish. I could sense what he did, and I didn’t know what words to put to it, either. There was a wave of almost visceral thrill, and then horror at having this kind of power. Then his exhaustion swept over me; this had drained him somewhat.

  “It taps your star energy,” I said. “So try not to use it, okay?” Last thing we needed was to get into a running gunfight and have our ship fall asleep in the middle of it. “Maybe I can find something else we can use.”

  “Zara,” his voice said. I drifted back toward the opening in his skin, trailing my fingers along the thick, resilient flesh of it, and I realized that when I touched him, patterns of light followed. “It’s time to install the alarm too. It can help keep me awake even if I run low on power.”

  “I’ll keep you awake. I can be super annoying.”

  “You don’t like it. I know. I don’t either, but this is why I asked for the device. I need it.”

  “It’s going to hurt you.”

  “If it preserves your life, and Beatriz’s, then it is worth the discomfort it might cause me. Please, Zara. Do this for me.” My H2 chimed where it was strapped to my arm. I tilted it and found that the instructions for installation were right there. Unlike the cannon, this would be different. It would have to be buried deep inside him, near a nerve cluster.

  I was going to have to cut into him. Again. Much deeper this time.

  “I can’t,” I said quietly.

  “I can’t do it to myself,” he said. “It’s necessary. Like—the DNA you had spliced in to repair your own damage.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “No. But it’s true. Please. Do this.”

  I hesitated, surrounded by the stark beauty of the universe. My touch sparked glowing comets on Nadim’s skin.

  We listened to the stars sing. Just for a moment.

  I found Beatriz deep in the supply deck, rummaging through boxes of spare parts.

  “We don’t have anything that we could use to build more weaponry, so we’re limited to the one gun,” she complained.

  “Okay, time to pivot.” This was where I shone, no false modesty. I’d spent my life jury-rigging tech out in the Zone. “If we can’t build additional guns, what about a shield?”

  Bea stared at me like I was out of my mind. Or a genius. Quite possibly, the two shared common ground. “Are you serious?”

  “When I was on board Typhon, they locked me up with some kind of energy field for a wall, right? Nadim should have the same basic tech. And if we can generate a small version inside, theoretically, we’d just need parts and power to replicate the effect external
ly.”

  “Damn, Z. You sound so pro right now.”

  I grinned and pretended to dust off my shoulders. “I wasn’t asleep when you were talking all that science, okay? And making something out of nothing is where I live.”

  Nadim weighed in for the first time. “I’m not sure how well it would work against rail guns or lasers, but it would help with ramming attacks and defend against ballistic projectiles.”

  “That includes debris, like passing through an asteroid field,” I added.

  “If we can do it, it would be a choice upgrade.” Bea wore a pensive expression, studying the inventory list. “But . . . there’s no way to avoid a lengthy, external installation. That may be dangerous.”

  “I’ll do it,” I said straightaway. We needed to cannibalize some of the sensors and cabling, and while we were about that task, I added, “You know, I’ve been wondering. . . .”

  “That never goes anywhere good,” she mumbled.

  “For real, Bea.”

  “Okay, let me hear it.”

  “Why did Typhon have all those internal defenses he sprang on me when I was on the way out? I mean, drones? Traps? He’s strapped to the gills. But—”

  “The only reason he’d be so prepared otherwise is if there was a chance he might be boarded by hostile forces,” she finished.

  “So we’re definitely not looking at another race of sentient ships,” I mused. “It’s probably something . . . what, smaller, right?”

  “I agree with your curiosity, but we should get busy, don’t you think? Typhon’s still out there. We’d better get this done as soon as we can.”

  If it delayed the surgery to implant Nadim’s internal taser, I was all for that.

  With the help of more automated dolleys, we hauled parts Bea selected to the nearest hatch. Bots could help me with the installation to some degree; she was busy programming the cleaning units to assist. Meanwhile, I suited up again and fed the oxygenated umbilical back into my mask.

  Despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn’t stifle repeated frissons of excitement at the thought of my next spacewalk.

  Half an hour later, Bea left the pressure chamber so I could open the outer door. It was awkward dragging the dolley out with me, but once I stepped out, gravity ceased to be a factor and it grew exponentially easier to guide.

  After that, it was monotonous but not difficult. Since I was still touching Nadim, feet to hull, I felt him following my progress.

  Zara . . .

  You’re not using the comms. Why not?

  I was testing. The abashed tenor of his thoughts made me smile.

  To see if I’d answer?

  No. If we could still touch—with you beyond my walls. That’s good. It means our bond is deep and strong.

  You got that right. Now stop distracting me or this will take forever.

  My hands felt clumsy as I installed the hardware and inched along his skin. The power units needed to fire at regular intervals so the force field could spread to cover his whole body. In theory, it had sounded easy. In practice, I would need to make multiple trips out here, working each time in eight-hour shifts.

  I worried when you sang to Typhon, he said, and it felt sudden, like he’d been compelled to get it out.

  Why?

  Because you might . . . He didn’t finish the thought. I understood, though.

  You thought I might like him better? Come on. Typhon’s a monster.

  But you felt sorry for him. I know that too.

  I had. I’d been forced to reach out to him, to understand him. I’m not going to leave you, I told Nadim. Not ever.

  I felt his relief, and I moved to set up the next unit in rote motion: drill, drill, bolt, bolt, clamp, power on. Nadim was right: I had felt something. I’d exploited Typhon’s loneliness, used his private sorrow against him. But I didn’t let remorse linger long. That asshole wanted to kill Nadim, who I’d protect to my dying breath. The thought drifted through Nadim, and he purred, a low vibrato that I felt through the soles of my feet, even past the skinsuit, and deep at the base of my spine. To this, I had no coherent response, only visceral emotion that streamed to him and back again in a feedback loop so exquisite it left me dizzy. Not the best state when working in zero gravity on a ship’s hull. I squatted to ground myself and tried to be stern. Remember when you asked Bea, What is seduce? It’s exactly what you’re doing right now.

  You did that to Typhon.

  Hard to tell if he was teasing me. I thought so. There was a thread of humor, undercut by a layer of wildness that hinted he wasn’t quite as gentle and understanding as he wished. Maybe all Leviathan had some of that cold brutality, held in reserve. Maybe Leviathan and humans had that in common. But the moment passed as he quieted, becoming a gentle hum in the back of my head.

  For hours more, I progressed along the hull, until I just couldn’t continue any longer. Part of that was exhaustion, but more to the point, I had no more parts. Continuing would require me to go inside, load up the dolley, and make another trip. I didn’t have the fortitude today. We have time, right? But Nadim didn’t answer, so he must be feeling the pressure too.

  Bea was waiting when I stumbled through the hatch. She helped me out of the skinsuit and handed me a flask of water. “You’re bent, you know that? Nobody meant for you to work nonstop, no breaks, no meals.”

  “I don’t know, I guess I feel like we’re on the clock . . . and it’s winding down.”

  While life might shake out to rose petals and moonlight for everybody else, I pretty much had a road paved with C-4. Usually, when stuff seemed to be going well, that was when everything went to shit. Like me scoring the sweet bag off Torian Deluca’s daughter. Sure, it had all looked good upfront; then Conde’s shop had exploded, and that was right about where I stood. Waiting for the big boom.

  Possibly I’d developed a bad case of paranoia. I hope it’s that. Still, I couldn’t help asking Bea, “We’re shielded here, right?”

  Her tone was patient. “As much as we can be. Per my readings, Nadim’s signature is masked to long-range sensors. Obviously if another Leviathan stumbles across us, we’re screwed. But what are the odds when space is this vast?”

  I really wished she hadn’t said that. In vids, whenever someone asked, “How could it get worse?” all hell would immediately break loose. But Bea continued eating calmly and nothing broke down, no alarms went off.

  Maybe I just needed to relax.

  Food and sleep helped a little, then I went back out to work on the shield. For almost a week, Iceland time, Nadim drifted and concealed himself while I installed the rest of the shielding. My knees and shoulders were sore as hell. Probably an actual work crew could’ve done this in a day.

  I was almost done when it went wrong. I was tired, rushing with the end in sight, and I lost hold of the dolley. It drifted, and hell, I leapt for it, thinking only of losing the last of our spare parts, except I had no plan for getting back.

  The skinsuit didn’t have propulsion. Neither did the dolley, really, just little hover jets and no guidance at all. Pure visceral terror slammed through me as the umbilical stretched. If it snapped, I’d choke and die. How long do I have, again? And I still had three units to install, dammit. It added insult to injury that I might bite it without finishing what I’d started. The shield would protect Bea and Nadim, even if I couldn’t. Panic beat me about the head and neck, just like a rich old lady whose purse I’d tried to lift once; she was sprier than she’d looked.

  Lock it down. Don’t let—

  Zara?

  Too late. Nadim was stirring.

  “Nadim, stop moving!” I said out loud. “I can do this.” Maybe. In thirty seconds, I’d be testing the limits of my tether.

  Zara! This time worried, more emphatic.

  I’m fine. With prejudice, I slammed a mental shield between us. Nadim had a short fuse where I was concerned, and it wouldn’t help if he started freaking out, adding his fear to mine.

  Think fast.
What would Beatriz do?

  The first answer was, be more careful. Then I had it. Quickly I checked the straps on the remaining supplies and angled the dolley—no gravity, no problem—so that the jets were facing away from Nadim. I hit the button and they fired; I jerked forward, like it was a vertical surfboard. Not enough, but I was closer, and it kept me and the dolley together. Short, controlled bursts. Easy now. Easy. The last time I hit it, I was so close I could practically touch him. Once more . . . and—

  I’m home.

  My weighted boots hit the surface and I dropped into a grateful squat, wishing I had arms big enough to hug him. I settled for a quick pat and dropped the wall between us. Immediately Nadim’s presence spilled into me like a wave.

  What happened, Zara?

  Nothing serious. Minor hiccup. I’ll tell you later.

  With trembling hands, I continued my work, counting down the last units. Three. Two. One. Moaning, I couldn’t even summon the energy for a victory shuffle, so I crept along the hull toward the hatch. It was quite a long walk and being out here no longer felt exciting, just precarious.

  Bea wasn’t on standby; she must be working on repairs elsewhere, so I stripped down and went to find her. She glanced up with a smile, blissfully unaware of how close I’d come to messing everything up.

  “Done,” I said. “Are we ready to fire up the shield?”

  “Almost. I’m running diagnostics. I had to piggyback on some other conduits and jury-rig a few connections, but in thirty seconds, we’ll find out if this works.”

  Her excitement made up for my numbness. I forced a smile. “I’m crossing fingers and toes.”

  Zara, you’re not fine.

  Not now, I told Nadim silently. After the test, okay?

  Silence. Great, now Nadim was pissed at me. But I just didn’t see the point of making a big deal out of a mistake I’d corrected. For the first time ever, I momentarily wished that Nadim could just hug me.

  “You want to do the honors?” Bea asked.

  This time, my smile felt more real. “Pun intended?”

  “Oh God. No.”

  “Then go ahead.”