Honor Bound

by Rachel Caine

  Beatriz went with me when I headed down to the warren of rusted hallways where Justineau had his medical closet. We had to wait while he attended to one of the Lumpyhead aliens, this one a sickly shade of orange. Once his patient left, he ushered us in with a bewildered smile. “You didn’t open another code box, did you?”

  I snorted. “Not hardly.”

  “We were wondering if you knew anything about this.” Bea showed him the coordinates and summarized the job Bacia had ordered us to complete.

  If anyone had asked me, I’d have said it would be impossible for ol’ boy to get whiter, but as he listened, he went from regular milk to spoiled and developed a tremor in his hands.

  I tilted my head. “Looks like you do. Know something. And here I was about to offer you a ride out of here.”

  “No thank you,” he said quickly. “I mean, you have a mission first. If . . . when you return, we can talk about your kind suggestion then.”

  “I need info.” When I leaned on the door, I didn’t mean to be threatening. I was just making it clear I wouldn’t be leaving until he opened up.

  Now Justineau wasn’t just pale; he was sweaty too. “This is only low-tier gossip. Not from a verifiable source.”

  “Do I look like I’ll judge you for getting me gutter intel? Lay it out.”

  Bea added, “Please,” because apparently, we were doing good cop/bad cop all of a sudden. I smothered a smile.

  “Well, what I’ve heard . . . it’s not a lot. But it seems like you’re not the first.”

  “To be sent on this job?” I asked.

  Justineau nodded. “Every so often, somebody makes a splash on the Sliver. Makes a name for themselves.”

  “Like we did,” Bea said.

  Justineau clearly didn’t want to have this conversation, twisting his bony fingers together. “Sometimes in the arena, sometimes cons or slicing. Whatever way, a new crew winds up with the mynt and fita to get a meeting with Bacia.”

  An icy hand crawled down my back. “You’re telling us that nobody ever comes back from this, like it’s a suicide run where they send people who could potentially threaten their power base on station?”

  “I never said that.” Justineau’s gaze darted toward the walls, wild as a cat in a box. “Bacia is all-powerful. It’s just an arduous task, that’s all.”

  Shit. I wasn’t thinking about surveillance.

  Living like this would make anybody paranoid, though, and it was likely poor Justineau had mental problems as a result of losing his Leviathan and then having his nanobots codejacked. The human brain could only bear so much. We needed to take his info with a big-ass grain of salt.

  “Do you know anything more about the actual job?” Bea’s tone was gentle, and Justineau responded to that.

  He took a breath, calming visibly, and then he ran an unsteady hand through his shock of gray hair. “Not much. I heard that a distress call came in from the last crew that attempted it.”

  “I don’t suppose you have a copy?” I asked.

  Quick head shake. “The only other thing I can tell you is, they said something about a vault down on the planet. The message was scrambled, and the translation matrix couldn’t decide whether to call it a vault, a bunker, a sepulchre, or a repository.”

  Wary, I locked eyes with Bea. “None of those are remotely the same.”

  “We might literally be robbing a tomb? I did not sign up for this,” she mumbled.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” Justineau stepped past me and put a hand on the door. I stepped away and let him signal our departure.

  “Thanks anyway.”

  As we left the grimy, makeshift medbay, I said quietly to Bea, “Did you get the feeling he was holding out on us?”

  She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Maybe? He was definitely scared.”

  Halfway to the exit to Tier One, it hit me. “We should’ve asked who might have a copy of that distress call. He only said he didn’t, not that nobody did.”

  “It’s worth checking out,” she agreed.

  Down in the bowels, there was no exhilarating slipstream, so we had to trudge back down to Justineau’s squat, probably no more than seven minutes, round trip. I rapped on the metal door, casual at first, and then harder when I got silence in response.

  I cocked a brow. “You think he ran off to warn someone?”

  “About what? I don’t think he’s in Bacia’s circle.”

  “When you’re right, you’re right.” I got out my H2 and activated my VA. “Can you tell me if Doc Justineau’s at home?”

  “Yes and no,” the swirl of light said. “Would you like me to override his door?”

  “You can do that?” Bea was surprised.

  “Under most circumstances, no. This is an exception.”

  “Go for it,” I said.

  The door swished open to reveal the old man on the floor. Even at this distance, it was obvious he wasn’t breathing. I raced in and flipped him over, thinking maybe it wasn’t too late for CPR. But his throat was crushed, not just strangled but crumpled inward, with a ruby-violet burn on the skin, tiny blisters still forming. His eyes already had a white film, staring up at the grungy metal ceiling with an expression of such anguish and terror that I recoiled.

  “Any idea what made those wounds?” I asked the VA.

  “Scanning. Similar to attack of . . .” Bleep of the translation. “You call them Jellies.”

  I thought of the huge Jelly-butler up in Bacia’s aerie. Too big to do scut work down here, but a lesser minion? Hell, yeah.

  “This just happened,” Bea whispered. “Like, right after we left.”

  No question, she was correct. I considered how easily I’d dismissed his fear and almost banged my head on the wall. Guilt wouldn’t help, though. Only action could.

  “Somebody shut him up,” I said grimly. “And I think we both know who.”

  “Zara! Beatriz!” Nadim sounded urgent. “Get out. Get out now.”

  To say we got off station at lightning speed would be an understatement. There were no authorities to contact per se, so I used my VA to file a death notice on the station server. The swirl of light also provided Bea and me with an alibi, which was both creepy and convenient. Apparently, this thing had a geo-locator tracking feature, which could pinpoint us as nearby during time of death, but not responsible.

  I couldn’t wait for Suncross to finish his pleasure tour. If the lizard thought we were reneging on the sponsorship deal because we’d taken a job from Bacia, so be it. I sent a vid message explaining the situation; that was the best I could do. Next I called Chao-Xing as we headed for the docking bay. My H2 connected to hers after some static and interference.

  “Don’t worry about a day’s mynt. We’re going now.”

  “Why?” I should’ve known she’d ask, but I didn’t want this story in the electronic wind—and it would be if we talked now.

  Bea leaned in. “Trust me, it’s bad. We should move. Stay alert and watch out for the Jellies.”

  That was enough corroboration. C-X cut the connection, and I blew past the sentries who were posted outside our honeycomb of a landing space. The Hopper felt blessedly familiar when I climbed in. Bea got in the pilot’s chair, so I slid on back.

  “Can you raise Starcurrent yet?” I didn’t want to go back inside the Sliver.

  She shook her head.

  Every move I could make felt ominous and wrong. If I hurried off to the mission, maybe that was exactly what Bacia wanted. Or maybe the big boss would prefer for me to linger, so there would be an excuse to—

  Fuck it. No matter what, I needed Nadim—and soon—to get my head right.

  Finally, the H2 crackled to life, and Starcurrent was on-screen. “Chao-Xing said we leave? Coming soon, with her.”

  I let out a sound that was all relief. “Hurry.”

  “Am rushing with all filaments.”

  Remembering Justineau’s dead, staring eyes and his mangled throat, it was getting harder
for me to stay calm. Nadim could probably sense it, because he said, “That death, it feels like both a precaution and a warning.”

  “Murder,” Bea corrected, her voice faint but firm. “They murdered him.”

  And that was a hard weight to take. Poor man had survived a Phage attack, lost everything to Mandy’s codejacking, only to eke out an existence thinking he’d never see his own kind again. And when he did? We got his ass killed. Hard not to see a lesson in that, some kind of way—humans were dangerous as hell, even when we weren’t trying to be.

  “Think we can do this?” I asked, low.

  Bea reached out, wrapping her fingers around mine, warm brown on brown. And it felt nice; I’d never been this close to another human who didn’t have a history of hurting me. Beatriz, she was just . . . good, like getting an icy gulp of water on the hottest day.

  “We’ve done everything else,” she said.

  And damned if that didn’t bolster me. When I contemplated all the improbable shit she and I had survived, together, this might be another one for the record books.

  Seemed like forever before Chao-Xing and Starcurrent rolled up, Marko and Yusuf moments behind. As they climbed in the Hopper, Bea powered it up. Her assurance had grown in leaps and bounds since the time she took us down to Firstworld. That felt like a lifetime ago, that carefree joy, that . . . innocence. I’d rarely applied that word to myself, but the universe kept teaching me how little I knew, even if I thought I’d seen some shit.

  “You good?” I asked her.

  Starcurrent slid in back with me as Bea nodded. She was analyzing trajectories, and soon, we swung out, away from the dizzying oscillations and toward the beautiful gleam of our healing Leviathan. Even Typhon looked fantastic to me now, and Nadim? A burst of love cascaded through me like fireworks.

  “I don’t like these circumstances,” Nadim said. “But I’m glad to have you both home.”

  “Are you planning to tell us what made you scramble like scared sheep?” Chao-Xing demanded.

  Since Bea was busy swooping the Hopper into Nadim’s docking bay, I answered the question in a monotone. It wasn’t like it was a long story, just a pitiful and tragic one. I also shared what snippets we’d gleaned from Doc Justineau before the Jellies iced him. Once I finished, Chao-Xing slammed the console with an angry fist, and Starcurrent was tinged in a violent blue that I was coming to recognize as rage.

  Zis tentacles unfurled, trembled. “Cowardly. That human threatened no one.”

  I had no energy to grieve. Maybe it was terrible, but I’d burned through all my reserves, and I just wanted to retreat to my room and be with Nadim.

  I didn’t linger in the docking bay. The others could debrief.

  Not me.

  Trailing my fingertips against the walls, I quietly delighted in the colors that rayed from that small point of contact. As soon as the door closed behind me, I set it to NO VISITORS and I switched my H2 to DO NOT DISTURB. Then I stripped off my boots, flattened my hands and feet against the floor, falling into Nadim.

  “I ate nutritionally adequate food on the Sliver,” I said. “So why am I so . . . hungry?”

  “I’m the same. The artificial light bath can mend me, but I wasn’t whole without you, Zara. There were so many places in the warren where I could not follow. That silence . . .”

  “I know.” Because for him, silence was like death. And I’d been so results focused that I’d forgotten he was mourning so many of his cousins. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

  “You’re doing it, you and Beatriz. You are shining for me, and she is singing.”

  Once, I would’ve scoffed at the idea that I could shine, but there was no doubt in me anymore. To Nadim, I was a damn candelabra.

  Likewise, once it would’ve made me faintly jealous to hear that Bea could comfort him, just as I could, but with a different method. Now I wondered how it would feel if we both bonded with him at once, if it would be warm and tender and sweet, an echo of her hand in mine. I suspected she didn’t want a bond name with him, and hell, I wasn’t even sure that was possible—for a Leviathan to form a complete bond with two beings.

  There were still nuances I didn’t understand, but for now, I would lie here and drink Nadim’s peace through my fingers and toes. I needed him now, like vitamin D or sunlight. His voice soothed me. The touch of his mind quieted my fear.

  And I would need that strength soon. For Bacia’s suicide mission, because no matter what Justineau had said, I was sure that no crew had come back from it before.

  We will. I intended to be first to complete the job and come back alive. But that meant going in eyes open, heads turning, every sense on high alert. “Nadim, did you get any answer from Typhon about these coordinates? Did he know anything?”

  I felt his faint blush of chagrin; he’d forgotten to tell me, in the pleasure of our reunion. “Yes, he did. He has not been to this area, but others have. Most . . . did not return.”

  “Hang on a second. Leviathan were killed?”

  “I don’t know if they were killed. They only haven’t returned.”

  “Not reassuring in the least, though.”

  “No,” he admitted. “Typhon says that two of us went to investigate and found a deserted planet, far from its sun. Dark and cold, and no life that they could detect.”

  “Any buildings down there? Installations?”

  “One,” he said. “It was very large. Three sides, pointed at the top. One side was black, one silver, one white.”

  A pyramid, each side a distinct color. I didn’t know what that meant. “Okay. Any kind of readings coming from it? Energy? Communications?”

  “No. It was silent and appeared to be inert.”

  I was guessing it wasn’t. I wondered why two Leviathan got away, and others were lost. Maybe it had to power up after it destroyed its enemies. They caught it at low charge.

  “Working theory,” I said. “Whatever that is, it’s a weapon, and we need a way to find out how it works from a great big safe distance. Thoughts?”

  “A few.” Nadim sounded smug. I wondered why, but he didn’t share anything, at least not yet. “It will take us three ship days to reach this system. We can discuss with everyone. For now, Zara . . . rest. And . . .” He hesitated, and I felt the pulse of his amusement. “Perhaps a shower.”

  I groaned. I didn’t want to get up. Ever. But he was right.

  I really, really stank. My hair felt stiff and crunchy at the ends. My skin felt dry and abused. I didn’t need a shower; I needed a spa day.

  But I settled for carefully removing my front braids and taking two hours to scrub up and properly co-wash and deep condition my curls, apply finishing oil to my hair and lotion on my skin. When I finally padded out of the bathroom wearing loose silky pajamas, I felt as relaxed and pampered as I ever had in my life.

  “Better?” I asked, as I dropped the station garb in the disposal. Hell if I was going to put any effort into cleaning it. I crawled into bed, under covers, and the mattress molded softly to my body and made me feel embraced. I put a hand flat against the wall. A pulse of slow light flowed from the contact.

  “Better,” Nadim said. There was a purr to his voice. He shared my relaxation, just as he had my tension. “Sleep, Zara. You are safe.”

  PHAGE, The

  Since I can’t find any record that makes sense in the official database, I’m recording this for future Honors. Look, if you’re like me, you’re already overwhelmed by the revelations about other inhabited worlds, other species crewing the Leviathan . . . and you’re starting to realize that you’ve been lied to, at least by omission, your whole life. I can’t help you with that, because what’s coming is so much worse.

  I have little scientific analysis to offer right now. We barely survived an encounter with these vile things, and I’m trying to help my ship heal as best I can from the encounter. They come on like a swarm—like ants, bees, hornets, something insectile and unstoppable. Not vulnerable to much. I’m ask
ing my ship for more intel, but she’s too hurt to reply, and I’ll admit it: I’m scared. I want to protect her. I don’t know how.

  God help us if we didn’t get away from them, and they track us, because we won’t survive a second encounter. We’re trying to make for a place called the Sliver to acquire armor and weapons against this species. The Elders are too far away to help us.

  God help us all if these things ever attack Earth.

  —Entry in the Journey database, logged by Honor Simon Chu, ship Cherys, bond-name Starblade. Starblade is recorded as lost to a Phage swarm.

  Interlude: Nadim

  I do not like this mission. I understand the necessity of it, but it was torture to have Zara and Beatriz separated from me for so long in that terrible metal cage, fighting for their existence.

  Now we are together, and this is good; she and Beatriz are safe with me. But what we have agreed to do . . . I fear it is a wrong choice. I fear we may do something that ends us. Other Leviathan might have perished on this same course. I am alert for Phage as we glide to the destination, alert for any hostile forces that may emerge. I am stronger. Almost healed.

  Typhon is not healed, but he will fight regardless of his wounds and damage. I do not want it to come to such things.

  I wish we could run. Bathe ourselves in far, rich starsong and be away from the battles and blood and death. But my kin are a silence now, fewer than they should be. Weaker than they know.

  We must defend.

  We must avenge.

  And most of all, we must survive.

  Zara’s Guide to Aliens on the Sliver

  Bruqvisz, aka Lizards. Four arms, two legs, varying skin tones, with a ruff that stands up when they’re riled. They like to gamble and fight, care a lot about their honor.

  Oborub, aka Jellies. Bacia’s elite. Their tendrils are poisonous, and they’re stronger than they look. Never heard them talk; they communicate with bioluminescence.

  Elaszi, aka Blobs. I hate these bastards. They’re evil Jell-O and hard to perish. Do not trust them or open any gifts they offer.

  Fellkin, aka Lumpyheads. Orange, insectoid with chitin. They’re strong but not fast, and their genitals are in the weirdest place.