It was possible that was the longest I'd gone in a while without talking to Nadim, because he was the one who spoke first when I rapped on the wall. "Zara . . ."
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" Maybe I was being petty, but it wouldn't hurt him to say it.
"Lying to you. I said I never would, and I'm sorry. It caught me off guard."
"Then are you ready to level with me? About what I saw down there."
When he didn't reply, I tried to imagine that my brain had an off switch and flipped it. I locked him out, tighter than I'd ever done before. Then I closed my eyes. I see nothing. Hear nothing. Feel nothing. I'm not even here. I don't even exist.
To my surprise, severing that hard link with Nadim rocked me with feedback, so that my head burned with white noise . . . no, dark noise. If silence was a pit that you could fall into, I had one growing in my skull like a black hole.
"Zara! Stop. Please stop!" He sounded frantic.
When I got my head right again, I discovered that I'd bitten my lip hard enough to bleed. "Nadim . . ." I didn't even know what to say.
"Don't do that," he said softly.
"I won't. But you have to tell me what was down there! I'm not gullible. I know something--someone--was with us on that planet."
With a faint sigh, he surrendered. "Most likely, it was a pilgrim. They are not supposed to be there during the Tour. I'm not sure what happened, why our paths crossed. But if you had injured one, the consequences would have been--"
"Bad?" I supplied.
"Unthinkable!"
"So what's a pilgrim, then, when it's at home?"
"Zara--"
"It's not from Earth, that's for damn sure."
"I can't tell you."
"Then let me say it. These pilgrims . . . they're not human. That's obvious. Except for the Tour, there are no humans out here."
The air was thick with his struggle to be honest with me, and at the same time, to play by the rules he'd been given. I didn't really expect to win that battle; I'd just gotten here, and Nadim, I knew, had been earnestly following his orders his whole life.
So I was taken aback when he suddenly said, "Yes."
It caught me cold, and I sat down, very fast. "Uh . . . wait. So there are other aliens out here. Living aliens."
"You're on board one, Zara."
"I mean, other than Leviathan!"
"Of course. I told you that we've come in contact with other civilizations--"
"Dead ones!"
"I omitted certain information for the good of your species." That sounded arrogant. And rehearsed. "Humanity is not ready to interact with other civilizations we have encountered in our travels."
"Why not?"
Nadim sounded a little impatient with me now. "Zara. You know why. Billions of your people lived in pain and terror. You had eradicated most native species on your own world, and unlike some of the species we encounter, you brought ruin on yourselves."
"So we're not fit to meet the neighbors, is that it?" I bristled all over. If I could have grown spikes, I would have. "Punks and criminals, our whole planet?"
"I never said that. But as a species, humans have been thoughtless. Our participation was meant to teach you how to manage your needs more effectively. And the Honors, the Tour . . . that was originally meant to acclimate Earth to the idea that it was one of many civilizations. We thought . . . we thought that we would begin slowly."
"What happened?"
"There was a death," he said. "And the other species . . . no longer wanted to interact with humanity. It is regrettable."
Someone had been quick on the trigger of a weapon. No wonder he'd been so terrified I'd shoot wildly down on Firstworld. "Was--was the human who did that one of your Honors?"
"No," he said. "That was before I began the Tour. But it doesn't matter. We all feel a burden for what occurred. We're hopeful that, as Earth becomes more peaceful, you might be able to try again to become part of the larger universe. Until then . . ."
"Until then, we paddle around in the little puddle you let us have and pretend it's ocean."
"Zara, it's for your safety. . . . What is that?"
"What?"
"Are you happy?"
I was. Not for any reason I could explain at first, until I let myself really feel it. Then I laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
"Why? I thought you would be angry!"
"I should be," I said. "I mean, really. You think of us as a bunch of violent, angry fools. But honestly? I'm just kind of excited that little green men exist."
"They're not--"
"So. Besides these pilgrims, how many more are there?"
"None."
"You're a terrible liar."
"Thank you," he said. I think he meant it.
Over the next two weeks, I pestered the shit out of Nadim.
We had to finish analyzing all the data before we could go on to the next stop on the Tour, which for me mainly boiled down to prepping samples, making minute logs of the times and places we'd taken them from the surface, and sending on the results. We were far from home, so it would take--according to Nadim--a year for the signal to reach Earth. Everything had to be packaged properly and stored. The physical samples would be transferred once we came back at the end of the Tour.
Added to our routine maintenance, it left surprisingly little time for unrelated tasks, like, say, imploring a sentient ship to spill the remainder of his secrets. Since he'd confirmed that there was one race of aliens thriving enough to conduct galactic pilgrimages, it stood to reason there would be more.
The one thing I didn't do was cut off contact with him again. Maybe it would've gotten me what I wanted, but since I knew it frightened Nadim, that would make me no better than Typhon, whipping him to get my way.
No better than my father. And damned if I'd ever go down that road.
Tired of failure, and just generally tired, I trudged down the corridor to Beatriz's room. It was late in the evening, or the Icelandic equivalent, so I didn't know if she'd be up. I rapped twice, and only went in when she keyed open the door. "Can't sleep?"
I shrugged. "I should probably work out more. What're you doing?"
"Recording a personal log." She seemed slightly abashed to admit it.
So far, I'd only done one, and it was like ten seconds long. Mostly I felt like a jackass talking to myself when I could be learning every humanly accessible inch of Nadim. Privately I admitted I might be obsessed. Slightly. Okay, a lot.
"Do you mind if I come in?"
"No, please." She stepped back, and I came into a room that was nothing like mine.
Not only did her room feel warmer, it smelled better too, faint hints of dark chocolate and cinnamon. She'd brought some small, colorful pillows and a picture of the Rio skyline at night. Those touches made it . . . personal. "Nice."
"Make yourself at home."
I read that offer as sincere and collapsed on her bunk. "You can finish the log if you want. I won't make any noise."
"If you're sure."
She went back to the table, where she'd set up her H2, and resumed. Since she was speaking in Portuguese, I only caught the occasional word, not enough for a ballpark translation. Certain phrases echoed close to Spanish, which I'd heard a lot of in the Zone. That took me back to listening to old ladies haggle in the street market.
To entertain myself, I studied up on Nadim's circulatory system. Being a human doctor wasn't my dream, but Leviathan physiology was considerably more intriguing.
When Bea fell silent, I asked, "You done?"
"For now. I have a lot of thoughts."
"Me too." I decided on impulse to test the waters, see how she'd react to what Nadim had told me. It wasn't like he'd sworn me to secrecy, and maybe if I enlisted Bea's help, we could coax some more information out of him. There could be terabytes of forbidden knowledge taunting me from behind a firewall. "You remember how I flipped out that day on Firstworld?"
/> "How could I forget?"
"Well, when I asked you to sweep, I spotted a second burn circle in the flora." At her questioning look, I added, "Where another ship likely put down."
Her eyes widened. Her mind went in the same direction mine had. "Did we cross paths with another Honor? Good thing you didn't shoot them. Try explaining that in your personal log."
I laughed. "That doesn't make sense, though. If they were human, why run? Why not say hello?"
"What are you trying to tell me?"
"I got Nadim to admit we weren't alone down there, Bea." She just stared at me. "Whoever was down there with us, they weren't human."
Since she was bright, it didn't take her long to come to the right conclusion. But she didn't take it well. She bounced to her feet and paced, rubbing her hands together in what psychologists liked to call a self-comforting gesture. Mumbling in Portuguese, she eventually settled on, "Are you serious?" in English.
"From what I gather, it wasn't supposed to happen. Are you game to find out more?"
She was already shaking her head violently, which surprised me. "There have to be reasons we're kept in the dark. It's . . . security clearance, or on a need-to-know basis."
"So? They didn't hurt us, we didn't hurt them. Help me talk Nadim into opening some of the files to show us what these aliens look like?"
"No. Leave it, Zara." That was sharp, coming from Beatriz, and after a moment she said, "I'm sorry, but I just . . . I need to rest."
Didn't take a genius to figure out that she wanted me gone. It was possible she'd change her mind in time. Space travel hadn't immediately enraptured her either, but she'd come around. With those silent reassurances, I said good night and headed for my room in low spirits.
"You're upset," Nadim observed.
He hadn't spoken to us in Beatriz's room, which made me think she hadn't invited him in, and therefore, he hadn't been listening to what we said. I'd counted on that. He did follow into my quarters, however; I felt him in a warming swirl, prickling over my skin. Normally I would have found that relaxing, comforting, more than a little thrilling.
Not just now. "Don't worry about it," I said. "I'm all right."
"You told Beatriz about Firstworld."
"So you did eavesdrop on us!"
"No. But it's obvious you would want to involve her in trying to find out more, and I think from your mood that she rejected your offer."
"Damn. Why are you so perceptive? But she's happier just doing her job."
"You aren't."
"What?"
"Happy."
"Eh, I can be happy in some ways but not in others. I'm complicated like that."
He seemed to consider that for a moment, and then said, almost hesitantly, "Would you let me share something else with you?"
"Always." The response popped out before I could stop it.
"You should make yourself comfortable first."
A little shivering breath gusted out, but I curled up on my bed. Hell, I even closed my eyes. Before Nadim, I never took instructions, but these days, it was hard for me to imagine him asking me to do anything that would hurt me.
"Okay, I'm good."
"I don't know what you did that day at the pool, but do it again. If you can. Or this might not work." He hesitated. "Call this . . . an apology. I want you to see what I see."
I didn't even ask what he intended to do. Before, I'd closed the door on him; this time, I threw it wide, and it was like having my mind drawn into a breathlessly fast whirlpool. Silent currents carried me straight to him, and as we had before, we clicked in, two missing pieces, and then there was no I, as everything of him became me. The new thing, the sweetness of we, moved with growing confidence. My mind opened like a flower so we could feel the cool, distant starlight streaming in an incandescent glow. Everything expanded. I was enormous and minuscule at the same time. Joined.
Bonded.
A flutter of fingertips, and we leapt forward. But it wasn't enough. There were no words anymore, just the endless loop of emotion--joy, excitement, euphoria--and it echoed until we couldn't contain it. Notes that I (the smaller I) only sensed before they burst into starsong, humming along our hull-skin, glittershot, thrumming, hopeful, all cadences in light and sound, simultaneous and eternal and exquisite. Roaring repeat, call and icy chorus of distant stars--
Pop.
I tumbled into my skin, and I felt like I was choking, trapped in a small dark place, alone. I felt myself flailing and couldn't control it, and then I was sickly falling off the bed. Laying on the floor, I panted, hard. My head hurt like it hadn't since I was a little kid. "N-Nadim . . . ?"
"I'm here, Zara." He spoke warmly, quickly, and I heard the deep concern. "You're showing elevated heart rate and respiratory distress." Such a scattershot voice, pinging me with the pink of his panic. "Do you require medical intervention?"
"No. Just . . . give me a minute. That was hardcore."
"Hard . . . core?"
"Being you. I heard the stars. Tasted them. Or . . ." I had no words.
"And I felt your heart beating, your blood rushing, the flicker of your nerves and skin. It was . . ." Apparently, this was new territory for Nadim too. "That was my fault. I only meant to show you a little of what I see. Not everything. Not yet. I didn't mean--"
"To do what?" Put that way, he made it sound like we were doing something forbidden, and for me, that was like a catnip mouse on a string.
"Deep bond."
Why did that sound so alluring? Despite my exhaustion, I immediately wanted to do it again. I ached to feel that freedom, to explode out of my tiny, fragile skin into the exultation of starsong. "That was amazing. Would we get in trouble if anyone found out?"
"Yes. It isn't meant to be done on the Tour. I think it happens on the Journey."
"Then it has to be our secret." Right then I made up my mind, I wouldn't even tell Bea. From general conversation, I'd gleaned that her impressions from Nadim were superficial at best, only glimmers of what I felt. She was more hesitant about connecting with him and she didn't have a boost of Leviathan DNA, either.
"I just . . . I wanted to make it up to you." He didn't even need to explain what he meant. I could tell that Nadim didn't like holding out on me. It chafed like a sliver of glass beneath his skin. I twisted onto my back and flattened my palms on the floor, then bent my knees so I could use the soles of my feet too. Not only did it ground me after that wild ride, it also offered four points of contact. It occurred to me I might prefer sleeping on the floor in contact with him to sleeping on the bed, as it carried the same emotional resonance as snuggling in somebody's arms.
Where we touched, warmth blossomed. With my eyes closed, I could feel what he felt, the energy flow back and forth as we adjusted as separate things once more, falling away from the we. Before I realized it, he had me tracing patterns with my hands and feet, following the subtle trail of pulses. The sleek, hot delight of it spiraled in secret art that only we could see, only we could create. Nadim's peace washed over me as if I'd survived a shipwreck.
I finally said, "If you ever bullshit me again, you'll see some Lower Eight wrath."
"Consider me forewarned." I sensed what I would have called a smile. His voice dropped to a slightly lower pitch, and the floor beneath me warmed. I could see the tendrils of color pulsing beneath me, like an aura. "Then . . . I should be more candid. The first time, at the pool . . . that was accidental. This was not. I wanted to share with you."
My mouth went dry, and I closed my eyes, listening to him. He was nervous, I thought, waves of yellow and cool green and little spikes of orange like goose bumps.
"Share what?" I asked.
"Everything." The word came like a fall of light, warm as summer. "Being with you is different, no awkward words, the way others flinch when I touch. You aren't afraid of me. Of this. I know it isn't time, Zara. Our rules say a deep bond is only for the Journey; not every Leviathan can find such a partner. But--"
"You did
n't want to wait," I cut in. "I'm not good at rules either. Maybe that's why you picked me."
"I didn't. Typhon did," he reminded me.
Disquiet prickled to life. From what I knew, Typhon was a bastard, and maybe Nadim was grown in his image, only smoother, capable of making me forget my anger with a single glimpse of the stars. I didn't like feeling like I'd been . . . handled, and I was still uneasy when I drifted off to sleep.
Biggest mistake of my life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Breaking Laws
I WOKE TO sunlight and birds twittering in trees, which was the most annoying way to wake up. The only birds I'd seen in the Zone had been seagulls, loud scavengers that would sooner shit on you than not. Birds didn't make me think of open meadows and forests--more of trash piles.
"Hey," I said, sitting up and running my fingers through my uneven hair. "Could you make the alarm do, um, water instead? Rain? Or maybe the ocean? Birds aren't my thing."
No answer. I flopped back down. "Nadim?" The floor beneath me was still warm--he'd increased the temperature to keep me comfortable while I slept--and I stayed huddled there beneath the thin blanket for a moment before I said his name again. Worried, this time. "Nadim? Are you there?"
No answer, again. I jumped up, didn't bother with niceties like showers and deodorizers and hell, even uniforms. I was still in my thin, silky underwear when I left my room at a run, heading for the data console. "Nadim!" I shouted. "Answer me, dammit!"
Only silence came back, even when I stopped and pressed both hands flat against his skin because physical contact boosted our basic connection. He was there, I could feel him, but he was . . . drifting. Barely there, distant as the stars. Imagining my thoughts as silver tendrils, I reached for him, reached and opened my mind until the effort hurt; he was too far. Despair and fear curled through me in gray and bloodred waves. I yelled his name again into the darkness.
Nothing.
Beatriz stumbled out of her quarters, equally disheveled. "Something's wrong!"
I stepped back from the wall and almost fell. She grabbed and shook me. Hard. "Zara! What should we do?"
Suddenly a shudder went through Nadim's body, an ominous shiver that brought with it a low, silvery flash of what felt like pain. Please, Nadim. . . . I remembered the video I'd found, the one he hadn't wanted me to see, of the grim third voyage where he'd lost his Honors and nearly his own life.