Honor Among Thieves

by Rachel Caine

  Oh, hell. Maybe I ought to take the girl something after all.

  Beatriz’s drawer had a lot of dishes—some I recognized and a lot that I didn’t. “Feijoada,” I mumbled. Sounded tasty. I took it out, cracked it open, heated it up, and then stacked it on top of my meal. After grabbing two packaged waters, I went to Bea’s quarters. Nadim had to give me a helping pulse of direction along the way, but I didn’t mind. Already I was warming to the idea that no matter where I went on board, he’d always be there if I needed help. That was . . . comforting. It shouldn’t have been. I should have been freaked out, trapped, wanting my freedom. Being on this ship was the opposite of alone.

  But it also felt good for someone to be looking out for me for a change. When I’d been out there in the Zone with Derry, I’d spent so much of the time watching for the danger signs with him . . . keeping him away from the chems, helping him through it when I failed. Now that I thought about it, that hadn’t been much like freedom at all. In the rear view, it was starting to look a lot like being manipulated.

  Maybe it had been easier to focus on Derry’s needs than try to sort out my own shit. I shouldn’t make that mistake up here, but I couldn’t be rude, either. Which reminded me of things I was used to doing back on the ground as regular politeness. My crash course on Earth had told me that Leviathan didn’t have gender, which made Nadim nonbinary, though his voice sounded male. So I said, “I’m wondering how I should refer to you. Pronoun-wise.”

  “He is fine, since that is how I register to you. I have no preference. But I appreciate you for asking.” The warmth of his tone made me glad I’d taken the time.

  “Don’t tell me, this is another first?”

  “No, others have asked, probably because it’s covered in orientation.”

  He seemed in a good-enough mood, so I risked it. “You never answered me, by the way. Is there some reason you don’t want to talk about Marko and Chao-Xing?”

  “I was trying to decide whether or not my answer would violate their privacy, but after consideration, I think I may address the question in general terms. Marko missed his family regularly—more at first, when we left, of course. But he liked to talk to me, and that seemed to help, and he often sent back messages home. Chao-Xing did not miss anyone particularly, and I suppose in many ways she adapted very well to being in partnership with a Leviathan. She loved the exploration, but in terms of emotional adjustment . . . she never warmed to me. In her eyes, I always remained a vessel. Not a friend. Separate.”

  “That’s messed up.” I paused in the hall and patted the first organic part of him I could reach, and it happened again: warmth pulsed down my palm and into my wrist. Leaving my hand in place while balancing trays and boxes of water with the other, I sensed something deep in my bones, almost like a purr radiating from Nadim’s depths. It could be his pulse or a subharmonic communication I couldn’t quite understand. It made me want to keep touching him.

  Especially when he said, “I’m very glad you’re here, Zara.”

  ***PRIVILEGED COMMUNICATION EYES OF WHSC TOP LEVEL ONLY DNA ENCODED***

  Elder Typhon greets you, Earth people of the WHSC. In response to the standard inquiry, two hundred and seventy-one individuals of Earth who have been sent on the Journey have not returned within communication range, but the greetings of their families have been sent out in hopes that they will be received. I am aware, through the songs of my people, of the natural death of seventeen human crew members, which is in keeping with the lifespan of your species. Their bodies have been committed to the stars, as is our custom. The names of those so honored are at the end of this message.

  The remaining humans engaged in the Journey continue, as do the Leviathan to whom they are matched.

  We thank you for the gift of these new Honors, whom we will watch and test upon this year’s small voyage. We will train them in our technology, and they will teach us the way your species approaches science and the solving of problems, as well as the history and culture of the people of Earth, which we honor and value as well. The discoveries that result from our joint experiments benefit both our species. We will continue the research requested by your scientists, as has been agreed.

  This covers the specific questions we have agreed to answer for this Honors cycle. Any others must be submitted for the next year.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Breaking Up

  AFTER THE FOOD, Beatriz felt comfortable enough to start exploring; Nadim gave us a walk-through of places that were accessible to us—a tiny fraction of his actual size, I realized. But still huge for two people.

  We’d already toured the highlights with Marko, including the library—almost a hundred shelves of real paper books and a vast collection of e-media, new and old. There was even a theater next to it, with a stage and an area where media could be beamed.

  But as we opened room after room—many of them self-sustaining experiments and lab facilities—we finally stepped into mystery.

  It made no sense to me when I walked into that vast space. It was the last thing I expected to find—a glittering sea, lit from below in slow, rolling pulses of iridescent light.

  “I—” My voice failed, and I looked at Bea. “What the hell is this?” The room was dark, warm, and humid. “Please tell me it’s not your stomach.”

  “I don’t eat food,” Nadim reminded me. “I eat starlight.”

  “Then tell us it isn’t your bladder,” Bea said, which made me nearly choke on a laugh.

  “I understand what you mean, but it doesn’t apply.”

  “Then back to my original question,” I said. “What the hell is this place?”

  Nadim seemed amused. “Zhang Chao-Xing was an Olympic athlete, did you know that?”

  Of course I did. I’d been subjected to the brain-numbing retrospective vids in rehab. She’d been an Olympic . . . swimmer.

  “It’s a pool,” I said faintly. “But how . . .”

  “She had a special request. I arranged it. Don’t worry, the water is exactly like what is found on Earth. I can make it fresh or salt. She preferred fresh water for the pool.”

  I went to the edge, crouched down, and dipped my fingers in the water. It was warm as a bath.

  “Do you swim, Beatriz?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, and sounded brighter now. She knelt next to me and touched the water. “I used to swim in the ocean. We would pack up the whole family, bring lunch, and I’d bodysurf with my brothers while my mother and grandmother slept in the sun. It’s been years since I’ve been. This is so beautiful!”

  Nadim said, “It can be much more so. Beatriz, is it all right if I show you the stars?”

  She took in a deep breath. “Not yet. I just need a little time.” She let out a shaky laugh. “So stupid! I studied for this. And yet when I look out there, I feel so . . . so lost.”

  “You aren’t,” Nadim said. “I can navigate a very long way. Even if I can’t see the stars, I can hear them. Does that make you feel better?”

  “I . . . suppose,” she said. “I’ll try tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Yes, Beatriz. Do you mind if I show them to Zara?”

  “Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll . . . be in the hall.”

  She retreated, and I stood. “You already showed me the stars,” I told Nadim.

  “Not like this.” He sounded smug and a little delighted. “Look up.”

  I did.

  The entire vast roof seemed to vanish. It was just me, the glimmer of the water, and . . . depthless black shot with stars. I should have felt dizzy, I suppose; I should have felt overwhelmed and terrified.

  It was the most magical thing I’d ever seen. I sat down, then sank flat on my back to stare. The joy that moved through me felt like the purest thing I’d ever known.

  “That’s my home,” Nadim whispered, and I felt how he felt. What had he said about me? Warmth and the taste of stars? Like that. I could almost hear those stars now, a high singing that pulled at me, pulled. . . .

>   Nadim’s voice came again, sharper. “Zara?”

  “Yes?” I felt dreamy. Floating. Everything was warm and wonderful and perfect. The stars were closer. Louder. Echoing in my head and my blood.

  “Stop!”

  That snapped me back to reality, in a hurry. I sat up, and now I did feel dizzy, and small, and incredibly insignificant. Cold. I felt cold.

  “Stop what?” I demanded. I had an edge in my voice too. Something that wasn’t quite a word whispered through the air between us. “I don’t understand!”

  “That was . . .” He didn’t seem to quite know how to say it. “You were . . . you saw . . .”

  “It’s okay when you pick at our feelings, but not when I do it to you?”

  “Yes.” Nadim still sounded very odd. “I realize that’s wrong, but—no one has ever done that before. Reached so deep. I’m not sure—”

  “You’re not sure you like it,” I finished. “Fine. I’ll stay out of your head, you stay the hell out of mine. Deal?”

  “Yes.” His voice had no emotion to it at all. Just sound.

  The stars vanished overhead, and it was just a room, just water, just the taste of my own disappointment.

  I stalked out into the corridor and found Beatriz. She looked at me funny. “What?” I snapped.

  “You had a fight,” she said, and smiled. “With an alien. That’s quite a first day.”

  I shrugged like it didn’t matter. The truth was, I was still reeling from that rejection; it shouldn’t bother me since I’d been looking at people’s backs for as long as I could remember.

  “Yeah, well. Pissing people off is kind of my superpower.” Nothing in my training had prepared me for wriggling into a Leviathan’s thoughts. I didn’t know how I felt about it— Wrong? Ashamed? Afraid? Maybe all of that, and yet it had felt so right at the time. Beatriz didn’t seem to get to Nadim like I did, so why . . . Maybe it’s the surgery that fixed my headaches. That little piece of Leviathan DNA. I might be tuned to Leviathan frequency now or something. It would explain a lot. That was . . . terrifying and exciting in equal measure. Did it make me strong in this place, or weaker than ever?

  Beatriz suddenly yawned, and I caught it too, and we both laughed. “Is it night?” she asked. “I don’t even know what time it is. But it feels like I’ve been up too long.”

  That was an excellent question. How did time zones even work out here? That was something nobody had asked in our informative sessions, but to keep a schedule, we had to operate on a clock. I led the way back toward the data hub, which seemed like the central point of our useful space.

  Nadim, I noticed, didn’t light our way for us in helpful pulses on the walls. Maybe he was still offended. In training, the instructors had explained how the Leviathan kept track of us, and essentially, it was like we were always on his alien GPS. Ghosts inside his skin he could feel moving, breathing, existing.

  The interface obligingly told us the time, and Bea was right. It was late. Somehow, time had slipped by, and I hadn’t even noticed. After skimming some historical facts about how near-Earth space used to be set on Texas time, but now was international, I realized we were living on Icelandic time. Until we decided mutually what sleep/wake schedule to use.

  It dawned on me with a rush that we could soon be so far away that time would have no real meaning, no sunrises and sunsets to regulate our days. Just schedules. We weren’t going to be bound to even those ancient rules. We could make our own.

  Maybe hours would have more than sixty minutes. A week could be ten days. It was like all the rules that bit at me like barbed wire, my whole life, might soon drop away, and I wanted to stomp my feet and shout in exultation.

  No limits.

  “That’s a happy look,” Beatriz said. “Why?”

  There was no point in trying to explain. She seemed like someone who had colored inside the lines in school while I was out back spraying my incomprehensible art all over the walls. Maybe that’s why they paired us up, checks and balances. More to the point, I could at least answer her other question.

  “That’s because I can tell you, it’s ten thirty at night in Rio right now. Twelve thirty in the morning, ship time.”

  “You should rest,” Nadim said then. “Your alarms will sound in six hours.”

  Nadim wasn’t kidding about the wake-up call. It started as a quiet, respectful chime. When I rolled over, groaned, and pulled a pillow over my head, it got louder. Louder. Became a gong, relentless and metallically pounding next to my head.

  I yanked myself away from the wall and off the bed. They’d walked us through mock-ups of the crew quarters during our orientation week in New York, and I knew where to find the pull-out toilet, the slide-open shower.

  Clean, uniformed, and still cranky at the early start, I headed straight for the canteen, where I found Beatriz finishing up her breakfast. She gave me a cheery smile.

  “So what the hell did we have to get up for?” I meant the ask for her or Nadim, whoever wanted to answer. Beatriz’s smile pulled a cute dimple in her cheek this time.

  “You didn’t check your H2?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “It’s in your quarters,” Nadim said. “It contains your assignments for the day, and you must track and enter progress. Please get it.”

  I gave Beatriz a pleading look, and she shook her head, but she got up, left at a run, and came back with the device. She handed it to me, and I opened it with a tap. “Oh, seriously, come on.”

  Beatriz turned her device on, and we turned them side by side. We had exactly two things in common today: lunch and dinner. Apart from that, we’d be working on our own until nearly seven Iceland time. Twelve hours, minus two for meal times. From my uninformed, quick view of her schedule, it looked like Beatriz was going to be doing some programming work, database updates, and various math-y tasks. A few things in the lab.

  I checked mine. “You’re kidding me,” I muttered.

  “You will be assisting with assembly of upgrade equipment,” Nadim said.

  Beatriz finished her coffee and carried her plate and cup to the small disinfecting unit, then came back to pluck her H2 out of my hand. “See you at lunch, Zara.”

  I glared at the handheld left to me, put it down, and defiantly drank a cup of coffee before I got to work.

  I ended up in a room I hadn’t been in before, a space built out as some kind of storage and workroom; I wondered which of the former two Honors had been in here using the tools, which ranged from blunt sledgehammers to fine-pointed, delicate circuitry points. I knew my way around most of them—time in the Zone would do that—but I’d never seen so many together or in such careful order.

  The handheld showed a bin to pull, and I walked down a long row of closed storage containers; the one they wanted me to access was enormous. It was also on wheels. When I touched it, it glided out and followed me like a pet back to the workbench, then obligingly opened to reveal . . . something. My first impression was that it was an engine of some kind, but it was massive. Not a design that looked totally human-inspired, either, though it had some familiar aspects. I looked through the notes. Lots of information about putting thing A into slot B, but nothing much about what it was supposed to actually do.

  And that bothered me. A lot. The knowledge the Leviathan had shared with humanity was mostly biological or biotech in nature—including genetic cures, like the DNA patch that had ultimately fixed the headaches I’d endured through my childhood. I had a tiny little piece of Leviathan DNA in there, fixing what was broken. Everything they’d given us had an organic root to it, a grown kind of technology.

  Was this what they were getting from us? Human labor and mechanical ingenuity? Somehow, the PR had all been about “cultural exchange” and such. Like the Leviathan delighted in learning things—which might actually be true. But this machine . . . this was something else entirely.

  “Nadim,” I said. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” he said as if he was standi
ng right next to me. “How can I help you?”

  I jumped a little. That, I thought, was going to take some getting used to. “What is this thing?”

  “An upgrade,” he said. “For me.”

  “I mean, what does it do?”

  “Its purpose is classified.”

  I dropped the handheld onto the workbench with a bang. “Not doing it.”

  “Zara, if you don’t do your work—”

  “What, you’ll fire me? Bounce me back to Earth?” I didn’t want that, I really didn’t, but I wasn’t about to let him know it. I was careful to keep my anger up front. “Look, I don’t like secrets. I want to know what this is, or I don’t touch it. Understood?”

  Silence. A lot of it. I could feel something rippling through the air, but I couldn’t tell what it was, and though I was tempted to put my hand on his wall and try to figure it out, that seemed . . . intrusive. So I crossed my arms and waited.

  Finally, Nadim said, “You’re being difficult.”

  “Is that a disqualification?”

  “Not doing the work will disqualify you,” he said. “Zara, please. I don’t want you to be expelled from the program. Can’t you—”

  “Take somebody’s word for it that what I’m doing is a good thing? No way in hell. That’s why I hated Paradise—I mean, New Detroit. It was twenty-four-seven rules for our own good and nobody could tell me why. And this?” I gestured around the workroom. At him too. “This is all secrets too.”

  “Secrets are necessary sometimes,” he said. “You must have a few.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not asking you to work on mine, am I?”

  More silence. I was aware that there were time limits, progress reports to be filed; I was aware that I was flunking out, again, on what might be the biggest test of my lifetime.

  “Screw this, I’d rather—”

  “All right,” Nadim cut in. “I’ll tell you what I can. Is that acceptable?”

  “Depends on what you say.”