Honor Lost

by Rachel Caine

  “We’ll be here,” Yusuf said, and hung up that connection without a polite good-bye. I doubted the Elaszi would care. Protocol wasn’t their strong suit. “You get that about the restrictions on the drones?”

  “Yeah, thanks for thinking of it. Bea’s on it. Should be done in a minute. Hey, Yusuf?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you,” I said, and meant it. “That was damn good work.”

  “Don’t thank me until they turn around,” he said. “They could still change their minds and decide to try for our brains.”

  But the Elaszi seemed to like the deal, and when Bea sent the drone fleet out to them, they accepted it and turned all six of their ships around. It was a welcome lack of drama in an otherwise dire situation.

  Jury came back with Bea and took up his statue act again. “Learn anything more?” I asked him.

  “I saw that Beatriz Teixeira is clever, but this is redundant information,” he said.

  “I learned that you are capable of restraint, which is new information. By the way, should I refer to you by any particular pronoun?” I was a little ashamed of not thinking of it earlier, but the whole murderbot thing threw me off.

  Jury put some thought into it before replying. “No. Use what seems correct to you. I have no gender identity, of course. Or procreative instinct. I do appreciate your courtesy in asking.”

  I settled on he in my head. It seemed wrong to call somebody I talked to it.

  “Okay, good. So . . . no decisions yet?”

  “No,” he said. “If I decide your sentence is just, I will inform you before I carry out any execution. You will be allowed time to inform your loved ones.”

  Courtesy didn’t buy me much, but at least it was the right thing to do. I felt Nadim’s growl in response to Jury’s factual threat; it was a deep-rooted Leviathan sound, and it rattled me. If Jury wanted a fight, I wasn’t exactly sure what Nadim could do, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out, either. “Yeah, well, let me know,” I said, and passed it off like it wasn’t any big thing. I dropped into a light bond to back Nadim down, and that wasn’t easy; he was in a mood. I realized the color of his walls had darkened to gray, something almost like battleship metal.

  Relax, I told him. Worst comes to worst, Bea and I got this robot shit locked. He can’t kill me. I’m unkillable.

  Zara. My name sounded like a reproach. You already died once and were revived!

  Point is, I came back. No, seriously. Look at what we’ve survived together. We got this, Nadim. All of us. Together.

  He seemed slightly reassured. Once I was sure Nadim would be okay, I crept away to check on Xyll. EMITU had treated Xyll as best he could, but I’d promised to visit. After the way Xyll went after me, it took several tries for me to get my nerve up to open the door to its quarters.

  It was still just a wriggly column, more like a serpent with limbs than the mature Phage that had snuck on board. Xyll didn’t approach me. I stayed by the door.

  “Why did you attack me?”

  “No. I—” Xyll hesitated. “Response to injury triggered _______.” The word just came through as random static noise. Xyll had stumped the translator.

  “Triggered what?”

  Xyll tried again. “Regression of life cycle. When one receives grievous injury, parts are sacrificed to preserve life.”

  “So you’re . . . less developed now? Like you reverted to a larval stage because you were hurt so bad?” That was amazing. Seemed like every alien we encountered had a better bio-design than humans. “Will you be okay?”

  “Am . . . struggling,” Xyll said.

  “Because regrowing body parts is hard? Or . . . ?” It was a leading question, and I had no idea what I’d do if Xyll listed a bunch of stuff it required that I couldn’t easily provide.

  “Painful. Should have others with me, help with ______.” Yeah, the translation matrix had no idea, either. “But I am alone.”

  That caught me. It sounded sad. And desperate. Maybe that was why it had come at me, out of the instinctive need for comfort, for help.

  Still terrifying.

  “I’ll see what EMITU can do. He might be able to mix up some medicine that will work as an analgesic.” I wasn’t too sure since EMITU wasn’t keen on being a med bot anymore, but I’d try, at least.

  It seemed morally wrong to let Xyll get jacked up fighting to defend us, then leave it to suffer alone without attempting to mitigate the harm. Sighing, I activated the comm via my handheld. “EMITU, could you please figure out some painkillers for Xyll?”

  “Fine, Zara. You lot would be lost without me.”

  FROM THE BRUQVISZ’S OFFICIAL GUIDE TO THREATS, 11,209TH EDITION (BOOTLEG VERSION WITH ADDED COMMENTARY BY UNKNOWN HUMAN USER)

  . . . but beware, Bold Traveler, lest you think all species are as expansive and welcoming as the Bruqvisz. [111111111 what the hell1111111]

  Many species you may encounter hold hidden harms and secret deceptions. The Oborub vary from polite and calm to murderous and full of stinging poison, and may change instantly if cultural touchstones are not observed. Please to purchase separate Guide to Oborub Customs module if intending to interact with the species in even the mildest of ways, for so much as inappropriate glance toward tentacles may result in immediate murder. [Oh that explains things. Sorry, Tad. No, I’m not buying that module. Might pirate.]

  CONTEXTUAL WARNING: Also be aware that penalty for piracy of Bruqvisz modules of cultural learning series and threat editions are punishable by immediate killing, with regrets to be sent to any listed emergency contacts. We don’t make the laws. Take it up with the Oborub. Remember not to look at tentacles too long. Good luck.

  [Shit.]

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lost Lifekiller

  “I STILL DON’T understand how it’s possible for Lifekiller to be off the grid for so long,” I muttered.

  We had been tailing the Phage for a while, but we weren’t gaining on them as fast as we needed to; we couldn’t, if we intended to keep enough energy in reserve for a fight once we found our real enemy. No more fuel stops, no more leisurely circling stars. So Nadim and Typhon found a good cruising speed, and we trusted that it would be fast enough to keep us in the game.

  Chao-Xing was antsy about our failure to lock the menace down, after what had nearly happened at Greenheld, and I shared her misgivings. There had to be a reason why the god-king was quiet, and whatever it was, it would not be good for us when the storm broke.

  “God-king possibly in stasis,” said Starcurrent. “As before.”

  “What?” That was the first I’d heard of that possibility.

  “Don’t know this? Hibernation, better? Anything that expends energy must also rest. Is not sleep, like humans do.”

  “So the god-king might have found a hiding spot, somewhere that could mask his presence, and hunkered down for a nap? What about the Phage? Why are they rushing for Lifekiller if he’s not actively wreaking havoc right now?”

  Starcurrent’s tentacles flowed in a slow circle. “Unsure. Worship? Watch?”

  Okay, that made sense. If the god-king was dormant—and maybe vulnerable—he needed an army to guard his back. When the Phage stopped moving, we’d have him tracked down. Hopefully. I did wonder if this pause in Lifekiller’s murder spree heralded a development of some kind, the way caterpillars went into chrysalides, and when they emerged, it was in a new form.

  I did not want to see what Lifekiller was trying to turn into after devouring several planets and chowing down on uranium. That said, maybe this was our lucky break. This could give us the time we desperately needed to take care of the two cousin Leviathan still chasing us, just like we were speeding after the Phage. We couldn’t be in two places at once, and we didn’t need to be, either.

  I had an idea, and to make this work, we had to split up. The pieces of a plan were coming together, slowly. Bea and Nadim were going to hate it.

  I stood. “Thanks for the talk, Starcurrent. You are seriously
better than a thousand hours of reading the Lizard Guide to the Galaxy or whatever file Suncross sent over when we first started traveling together.”

  “The Bruqvisz are legendary storytellers,” Starcurrent said, but the pleased flush of zis tentacles displayed zis happiness. “My people sing.”

  “Well, you’re a font of information as well.”

  I really didn’t know how to bring up this suggestion, and before I had the chance, klaxons sounded in the docking bay.

  “Nadim? What’s happening?”

  “The drones are active. All of them came online and they’re ready to deploy. If I don’t open the way, they will harm me in exiting.”

  “Do it! Let them go!”

  I stopped shy of the outer doors and peered into the docking area. Holy shit, the crates had all burst open and the space was full, drones barely able to move, hovering above, scraping the Hopper. As I watched, Nadim opened and the drones zoomed out, leaving only the detritus of the containers that had housed them.

  Bea came running up in time to catch the tail end of the departure. “Are we under attack?” she demanded.

  “For once, no. But I have no idea why the drones suddenly bailed on us.”

  Nadim said, “Suncross is calling, urgent code. Perhaps he knows?”

  Bea grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me to Ops, but she didn’t need to. I was running on my own. I tapped to accept the comm request, and Suncross appeared on-screen, grainy but recognizable. “We have word from the Sliver, Zeerakull!”

  Of all the news, I wasn’t expecting to hear that. “What now?”

  “The Phage are attacking the Sliver. Bacia commands that we render immediate aid.”

  “Screw that,” I muttered. “They can’t command me to do a damn thing.”

  But it certainly explained why our drones had suddenly taken off on us. Bacia needed them bad. I briefly wondered if that meant the ones we’d traded to the Elaszi had also deserted; if they had, we’d have hell to pay for it, probably. Well, I couldn’t help that now.

  Was this attack a leftover imperative from the last time the god-king had ordered the Sliver’s destruction? Or just a feint, to keep us busy? He’d been super pissed to wake up there, subject to Bacia’s whims . . . or did he see them as a genuine rival? Bacia was one of the most powerful beings I’d encountered in the black, so I could understand if that was the deal. Lifekiller would want no rivals.

  “We’re too far to get there in time,” Bea added. “I mean, if we were going.”

  Technically speaking, Bacia started this whole thing when they insisted on us robbing that tomb, and here we were with the whole damn galaxy in peril. If they couldn’t protect their outpost, they’d have to abandon the station. I was sure they had a backup plan and a ship fast and tough enough to outrun the threat.

  “Zara, there are a lot of lives at stake,” Nadim said. He sounded worried.

  Time for me to be the bad cop. “We can’t save everyone. That’s a fact. And the Sliver is full of crims and outlaws who are fully capable of fighting Phage on their own. If we double back to help, Lifekiller could go on another rampage, and likely it’ll be innocent civilians at risk. We have to end him while we still can. Let Bacia take care of their own. That’s why they collected all those damn taxes.”

  “I agree,” Bea said.

  “Suncross?”

  The lizard showed four open palms. Suncross’s guys were standing behind him, and they seemed to be playing a drinking game. Did these lizards ever stop celebrating? “We work for you, Zeerakull. Bacia cannot command us. They have access to our communication network, so they sent this demand, but we are not obligated to heed them.”

  A frisson of discomfort filtered from Nadim, but he said, “I feel guilt over this choice, but . . . I agree. We should not go.”

  “And Typhon?”

  Nadim’s tone made it clear it wasn’t even a question. “He is not going, either.”

  “Okay, we’re all on the same page.”

  Bea was nodding, a scowl knitting together her perfect brows. Man, I needed to get her to teach me about eyebrows. And—I needed to focus on her words, not how all her features were ridiculously cute.

  “What is it, Beatriz?” Nadim made her name sound like an endearment too, and I didn’t mind. God, I loved them both.

  “Doesn’t this mean that the drones we gave the Elaszi will take off too? In that case—”

  “The blobs will think we cheated them on purpose,” I finished. “And come gunning for us, not Bacia. Not much we can do about it. That was some next-level double dealing. If I wasn’t so mad at Bacia, I’d admire the hell out of them.”

  Bea brushed back her hair in a furious gesture. “They tricked and defrauded us! What’s to admire about that?”

  “I mean, they paid us . . . then when they needed the goods back, the drones returned without them lifting a finger. It’s the perfect con.” And potentially deadly, if we had to go up against the main Phage swarm again without our drones. Now we had to worry about Derry and the traitorous cousins, the return of the Elaszi, and oh, hunt down the god-king. No problem, right?

  “Zara!” Bea tried to look stern, but I gave her my best smile, and she beamed back at me. Good to know she can’t keep a straight face if I ever make her mad for real. Then she went back to technical issues because that was where her head stayed. “But then how did Bacia get the signal to the drones?”

  An excellent question. “Nadim, you said there was no emergency broadcast system.”

  “Maybe because of us,” said Suncross. “Our people communicate across this galaxy and beyond. Our communications relay is enviably excellent, quite compatible with other types of tech as well.”

  “You’re saying Bacia bounced the signal on Bruqvisz relays, and since your ship was near ours, the drones activated?”

  “Possible,” the lizard said.

  That probably meant the drones we’d given the Elaszi would stay put until they passed a lizard relay. That might buy us some time. Well, no point fretting about what couldn’t be helped. Spilled milk, barn door, and whatever else. Bacia had probably counted on it, since they knew Suncross was working with us. I hadn’t even considered this possibility, or I would’ve had Bea go over our cargo with a fine-tooth comb. She was pacing, still caught up in the technological aspects of us being fooled.

  “So . . . your people do have communications relay? Are they satellites?”

  “Not exactly. You wouldn’t understand, little singer. Even I don’t.” Oh, this lizard did not just throw that at Bea. Before I could pick that bone, he added, “Pointless to talk more when there is drinking to do. Call if anything changes.”

  Almost as soon as the connection dropped, I had Chao-Xing on the screen. “What’s happening over there? I detected a pulse of sudden energy emissions, and your drones—”

  “Yeah, about that.” I cut into her questions and provided a succinct explanation that resulted in Chao-Xing cussing in Mandarin. She’d set our translation matrix to ignore these outbursts, but I’d studied enough on my own to get the gist, and she was calling Bacia “mixed eggs” and cursing their ancestors back to the eighteenth generation.

  “If we didn’t already have too many situations to handle, I would blow up the Sliver myself,” Chao-Xing snarled. “Treacherous pit of criminals. I should have known they wouldn’t deal with us fairly.”

  Dang, she didn’t take kindly to being cheated. Never thought I’d say this, but, “Rein it in. We have bigger enemies to fight.” Even though they’d tricked us, I probably wouldn’t even call Bacia an enemy. Not a friend either, of course.

  “That is indisputable,” Nadim said. “Lifekiller must be our focus.”

  Chao-Xing let out a sigh as Marko and Yusuf stepped up behind her. I glanced at their faces, wondering why they looked so grim. Given our issues, they had reason, but what was bothering them now? We had a grocery list of problems.

  Marko scraped a palm across his jaw, which was covered in th
e start of a decent beard. “It’s not that I like Bacia or anybody on the Sliver, but it’s hard to turn your back on someone who’s waving their arms and shouting ‘Save me.’”

  “It’s not the same,” I said.

  Yusuf wore a serious expression. “You chose to save Starcurrent and me when we were drifting and near death. We are choosing not to save the Sliver. It is the same as letting those people die.”

  I could have argued. Said that some would probably escape, but that was specious bullshit and I knew it. Even saying we were too far—that was a defensive rationalization as well. Somber awareness dropped on me like a veil, and I had to acknowledge their point.

  “Fair enough. But like Chao-Xing said, this is wartime, and there’s this thing called triage. Field docs prioritize who gets treatment first based on which patients have the best odds of surviving. We’re doing the same thing. It doesn’t make sense to stop hunting Lifekiller to change course when we’re so far out. We can’t be Bacia’s only allies . . .” I held up my hand to forestall Marko when he opened his mouth. “And if we are, then they’ve lived their life wrong and we can’t help that.”

  Chao-Xing nodded at that. “Also, I’m pointing out—based on past interaction with Bacia—it seems likely that they sent out multiple calls for aid.”

  “That’s for sure,” Bea muttered. Girl was still bitter about us losing the drones.

  Me too, to a lesser degree, and I did worry what we’d do if we got into it with the Phage and didn’t have enough firepower to take them out. I couldn’t spare too much mental energy for bombs that hadn’t exploded yet, though. We were between a swarm of killer bees and a pack of wolves. Not the time to ask us for help.

  “You wanted me to absorb the gravity of the decision, in case it turns out we were their only hope,” I said. “But we’re agreed: it’s a no to helping Bacia. Is that the gist?”

  Yusuf nodded as Marko said, “Exactly. It will burden my conscience but I’m willing to carry it because we’re needed desperately elsewhere.”