by Rachel Caine
At first I thought it wasn’t working at all. Typhon’s attention drifted away, and it seemed like it was just me, singing to myself like some old-school jailbird. I just needed a mouth organ to make the picture complete. Except as time wore on, I noticed my cell warming by such minuscule degrees that I didn’t even think the Elder was aware of it.
I took it slow. The next time I brushed the wall, I lingered just a little, and the spark I got back from Typhon wasn’t all death-lightning and GET OUT written in blood. I wasn’t sure how deep bonds worked, but he was clearly responding to my song. If Chao-Xing caught me at this, she’d put a stop to it. Then again, she probably didn’t feel about Typhon the way I did Nadim.
Even if I wasn’t supposed to.
Singing this song on loop summoned thoughts of my mother. For the first time, I wondered how hard it must’ve been for her, having a child in pain that she couldn’t save. I couldn’t imagine giving somebody life and then having that person walk away as if it meant nothing. I did love her. But I’d never understood how she felt before, not really. And I’d never regretted hurting her this much, either.
I didn’t know if my new softness was the key, but the next time I touched Typhon, he opened too—a rusty creak, like an iron hinge that had been sealed for years. The Elder didn’t seem alarmed by what I was doing. In fact, some of the darkness had washed away with the song, like an ocean of peril at low tide.
What I found, deep in the heart of the Elder Leviathan, surprised the hell out of me.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Breaking Barriers
WEARINESS. ISOLATION.
I’d expected to find a monster hiding behind his cold walls, a fiend that feasted on violence like it was wine and meat. Instead, I encountered a lone soldier, poised on ancient battlements, overlooking a war. One he was losing. Knowing he’d fight and die, yet he could not lay his weapons down. It was terrifying, and I wasn’t sure if what I sensed was literal or metaphorical. The top of my head tingled and I couldn’t get my breath.
Never expected to feel sorry for Typhon.
Somehow, I was in the Elder’s consciousness in a way he didn’t permit Marko and Chao-Xing to be. He suddenly noticed me and rumbled a threat that shook the whole ship. I didn’t advance or retreat, just kept singing softly.
A few moments later, I heard Typhon directly for the first time. Not aloud, as Nadim spoke, for courtesy’s sake, but like thunder in my mind. Honor Cole, you dare too much.
You’re so tired. So alone.
I didn’t mean it as an accusation, and Typhon knew that—of course he did. There could be no dodging a truth with that much weight. That does not concern you.
More avoidance. More secrets.
With some effort, I pictured the Elder as that lone soldier, not the enemy who hurt Nadim. It took everything in me, all my self-control, and then I relaxed into Typhon, still singing. Echoes of wrongness pricked at my brain, needle sharp, but I ignored those frissons. The shock that reverberated through him told me he wasn’t used to this unfiltered sharing; he was used to taking, commanding, not receiving from the humans he bonded with. I scooped up a few of his memories like collecting fish from a pond and realized that the two Honors he carried now were certainly not his first deep-bonded crew.
Why do you settle for such a bleak existence? Did you forget it could be more?
Sudden pain nearly blinded me. Not mine. Not Nadim’s, either.
I didn’t forget. We can’t forget. Another tide of memory, and it carried me along to when Typhon was young and eager, like Nadim, soft and sweet. His first pilot wasn’t human—an alien race whose name I didn’t know—but those emotions, the warmth of the sharing—that was the same. His pilot gave him everything, even unto death.
It hurts too much, I realized, not trying to hide it from him. Tears gathered in my eyes. You treat them like things so it doesn’t wound you as much when they die.
It is not your concern, Zara. It didn’t escape me that he was using my name now; I’d become a person to him at last. His tone shifted as well, no longer ominous thunder, but more like funeral bells heard at a distance. The Elder’s inner voice filled me with melancholy. But . . . you speak the truth.
It doesn’t have to be like this. I can comfort you. The offer had to feel impulsive. If it seemed calculated, I’d lose all the ground I’d gained. You’re going to send me back to Earth, without any memory of why, so it doesn’t matter what you show me. I can be your friend for now, at least. You can share your burdens with me.
This felt all kinds of weird. Though Typhon still didn’t seem to notice, my cell had warmed to the point that it felt downright cozy. My song was working on him, touching notes of pathos and home that he probably couldn’t defend against. Not with weapons, anyway.
There’s no profit for you in helping me, and I do not trust altruism.
But the fact that he hadn’t slammed the door shut between us spoke volumes on how much he’d missed this, how he ached for that long-lost alien Honor. In the end, he didn’t deep bond, but he wanted to, enough to be distracted by the tantalizing possibility. And that was exactly the rule of the con. Misdirection, make them watch your left hand while robbing them with your right.
The best con of all? Believing it yourself. And I had to believe this, had to feel it, because he’d know if I was holding back. Minds couldn’t lie. It would have been so much easier if I didn’t care, couldn’t feel his pain and be sorry for it. But this was my price. Pain and guilt.
While Typhon resisted the lure of opening to me fully and soaring as one, we bobbed together, dreaming in that lullaby sea. Drifting, drifting, until he eased and went from listening to rocking, borne aloft on my mother’s music. My taps slipped into strokes and my voice softened. I had the patience to do this forever or until one of two things happened—we reached the Gathering or his Honors noticed his emotional shift.
With Typhon as a conduit, I sensed Marko and Chao-Xing on the other side of a mental barrier, faint and fumbling, but I couldn’t feel what they felt; that was how well the Elder had blocked them. A lazy pleasure spiraled through him and into me. He was enjoying this—it was just enough that it felt good—not enough that it seemed dangerous. I was just a tiny, caged bird, singing in my captivity. What possible danger did I pose?
It took an eternity of whispered song, soft drumming, but then, finally it happened.
He drifted to the edges of dark sleep, lost in memory, a weary soldier nodding off on the battlements.
The lights dimmed, and the blue curtain of energy in my cell flickered and went out.
I sent the bucket spinning as I dashed for the opening and felt the harsh clash of the energy slamming back into place behind me. I hit the floor rolling and came up on my feet, pushing from stop to sprint in record time. I also slammed the mental barrier between us shut with conviction, because no matter what else Typhon was, he was also the asshole who had hurt Nadim.
If Leviathan couldn’t forget, neither could I.
I popped open the door before they locked the ship down and then searched the lockers. Exultant, I pulled out a bulky old skinsuit; it wasn’t the latest model, but at least they wouldn’t catch me with the gas trick again. I scrambled into the suit and yanked the mask over my head just as the pink mist drifted down. My suit sealed and filtered just in time; though I was little dizzy, I held on and kept moving.
Okay, next stop, armory.
I didn’t want to fight Marko or Chao-Xing, but if they tried to stop me from freeing Nadim, then we’d throw down. As of now, that was my new goal. Free Nadim. Run like hell. Not much of a Plan D, especially when Typhon had such scary weapons, but I still had the idea of finding a space version of the Zone in the back of my mind. We’d hide out, perform a training montage, and come back ready to fight. So maybe I’d watched too many sci-fi vids, but in desperate moments, it was all I had.
As I raced down the corridor toward the armory, I nearly tripped on the prone figures of Marko and Chao-Xing. Ho
ly shit, they weren’t ready for the gas? That must’ve been Typhon’s doing, not theirs; he’d overreacted to my betrayal, big-time. He probably would have loved to turn the atmo toxic, or blow me into space, but some part of him still cared for his crew, even if they were just tools to him.
I hurdled their unconscious bodies and pounded the armory door with frustration when I realized that the Elder had locked me out. Beatriz could hack this and fix a broken toaster oven in the time it would take me to key in two password guesses. Weapons, weapons, the other Honors probably had some. I searched them quickly and took two stunners and a hypodermic, probably a tranq.
“I don’t want to kill you, Honor Cole. You remind me of my first pilot.” Damn, Typhon was talking to me, out loud. Shit must be serious. “But if you continue, I will vent all decks, all corridors.”
“That’ll kill your crew too!”
“There will be more Honors next year and the year after that. And so on. Your people have so many bright young minds to spare.” That had to be the most optimistic threat I’d ever heard.
“I don’t believe you care nothing for them. Plus, you must have a boss, too. The Leviathan you’re gathering to judge Nadim will probably be curious why you had to kill your own crew to deal with me.”
The cameras on board meant he couldn’t explain this away without giving context, and instinctively I knew he wouldn’t want to reveal that moment when he’d let his guard down with me. Typhon rumbled in rage, rolling hard enough that I almost fell over. Forever ago, I ran through a funhouse, part of a carnival, where the floor was constantly tilting, shaking, and sometimes dropping out altogether. My run through Typhon’s depths felt about like that. It had to be driving him crazy that he couldn’t just smash me, but he could still lock me out of everything, essentially herding me like a rat in a maze.
When I slammed into Beatriz racing around the next corner, I held on for dear life. I’d recognize her anywhere, even in a skinsuit. “What’re you doing here?”
She grabbed me back, talking so fast I couldn’t follow at first. “Are you okay? They claimed you were really sick and ordered me to come over to help. I suspected it was probably a trick, but I wasn’t sure. Then the lights went out, they went to check on you, but—”
“Breathe,” I said, giving her a little shake. “I need your big, sexy brain. Come on, Bea. We need a Plan E.”
“You must have already used Plans F and U.” She got out with a touch of sass.
Love this girl. We hugged each other tight while she thought, then she whispered in my ear, “I need an H2 and five minutes. Make sure I have both.”
“Understood. Don’t take your hood off. We might need the scrubbers. Or oxygen. And if you feel a breeze, hold on to something and try to grab Marko and Chao-Xing if they fly by.”
Laughing at her horrified expression, I hugged her again and ran off. First, I had to make sure that the other two couldn’t interfere. The gas wouldn’t last forever, so while they were still unconscious, I fashioned makeshift bonds out of their socks and belts and fastened them at wrist and ankle. To the Elder, I’m sure it looked like I was running aimlessly after that, but I didn’t want him to guess what door I needed to enter and lock it down.
My feint paid off. Plainly he wasn’t used to dealing with con artists. Gravity issues aside, Typhon wouldn’t last long down in the Zone. At the last moment I dodged into Marko’s quarters and wedged the door so he couldn’t lock me in. Luck was with me; he’d left his H2 on the table beside his bunk. Snatching it, I raced back to Beatriz, who was tapping a foot near the console. There was no way to seal this room down as it was the heart of the ship with corridors ranging off in four directions.
“What are we doing?” she asked, taking the tech.
“Think of it as boosting a car.”
“Nadim is not a car. Besides, I’ve never stolen anything.” Despite the worried tone of her bitching, she was already working on the H2. “There’s a conduit in the stern. I need to route some things there, and I need you to wait. I’ll see to the timer. When I get everything set, it’s imperative for us to hit this simultaneously.”
“We’re not, like, turning keys for a self-destruct sequence, are we?” That was too far, even for me, though part of me wondered exactly what I wouldn’t do for Nadim. Or Bea.
She snickered. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just trust me. I’m going to distract him. It’ll take too long to explain.”
“Okay. I’m on it.” I tossed her one of the stunners. “You never know, right?”
“Be careful.” With that, she ran off down a corridor, leaving me to pace.
“This is your last warning,” Typhon thundered. “I will kill you if you leave me no choice.”
“You can try.” Beatriz had reached a comm, wherever she was. It wouldn’t be long before she was slinging code into his systems, screwing with all his software and Earth tech. “We’re not afraid of you!”
She’d become a much better liar, and I laughed so loud that it hurt my throat. I’d wondered when he would speak up again. If I had an inkling how he thought, he’d been scanning for something, anything, that would eradicate Beatriz and me without hurting Marko and Chao-Xing. Two human lives might not amount to much in the grand scheme, but that failure would probably tarnish his reputation. Eventually trust would erode in his leadership. How long before other Elders decided Typhon was unfit to serve? Of course, this all might be bullshit human rationale, and I couldn’t hope to unravel the tangle of their politics.
Numbers came up on the console in front of me, counting down, just as she had promised. This was some kind of crazy-ass New Year’s Eve—with all our lives hanging in the balance. Finally, the timer clocked to zero, and as it did, I felt a shudder move through Typhon’s body. Nadim was fighting him; we’d been gone too long, both of us, and he must be terrified. He couldn’t win, but that didn’t matter. He’d be enraged at the idea of something happening to us.
Especially when that something involved Typhon.
Bea came back on comms. “When the numbers come up, I need you to key them in, Z. Timing is critical. Don’t screw it up.”
Shit, I’d never been a twitch-gamer. But this was a contest we simply could not lose.
Taking a steadying breath, I matched each flash, stroke by stroke, until the sequence was complete. Then I felt the lurch. At first I didn’t understand, but as the star charts flowered beneath my fingertips, I realized the monumental scale of what Beatriz had done. I broke out in chills, no, full-on goose bumps. With nothing more than an H2 and an access panel somewhere in the stern, she’d hacked an Elder Leviathan.
“And you wanted to wash her out!” I shouted with an air punch.
But if I knew anything, it was not to celebrate too soon. I took control of our course and sent Typhon in the opposite direction from the Gathering. I wouldn’t have control for long; the console wasn’t designed to fight for supremacy against a noncooperative Leviathan, but that wasn’t the point. It forced Typhon to split his attention yet again. We’d given him so many problems to untangle. Damn, I hoped it took long enough for us to get clear, and even as I piloted him off course, lights were popping red on the console.
“What are you doing?” I asked Beatriz over the comm.
“Screwing up all his systems,” she said. “Distracting him. If he focuses too much . . .”
My mother used to say, mention the devil and the devil will rise, and just then, Typhon decided to cut to the chase and try to get his nav back. I felt the crushing weight of his attention and knew he was seconds from changing the course again.
Not if I lock him out.
Bea wasn’t the only one with bright ideas. I dove under the console and fired the stunner directly into the weak point—the power conduit, the same one that Typhon had blocked on Nadim. It shorted out the console completely. Now we were even. It’d take time to repair that, the course was locked and he’d have a hell of a time unlocking it, his Honors were down, and Nadim was struggling with
everything he had to break free. Typhon was fighting too many battles.
I was frightened for Nadim, though. If he kept that up, he might tear himself apart trying to save us.
“Head for the docking bay.” Bea still had the intercom. “By the time you get there, I’ll find a way to release the tow the Elder’s got on Nadim. See if you can raise him on the Hopper.”
“We should go together,” I said.
But she couldn’t hear me. All around us, Typhon roared like a mad beast, shuddering so hard that it seemed he might split at the seams. It must be maddening for him to be locked on autopilot, but he’d override the Earth tech or his Honors would work free and perform repairs. Otherwise, he couldn’t stop until he reached the destination I’d selected, a dead planet on the other side of a distant system.
That would take time. I’d tied Marko and Chao-Xing up pretty damn well. On my way to docking, I grabbed a knife from the commissary and dropped it at the end of the corridor. It would take a while for them to inch down that way; they were awake and glaring when I raced by, but I didn’t pause to talk. No instructions either. With sufficient time and effort, they could grab the blade and free each other, hopefully not soon enough to let Typhon catch up.
Defense mechanisms kicked in that I didn’t even know Leviathan had. He unleashed drones first. They zoomed after me, shooting with grim precision. Laser fire spattered the walls and floor, singeing Typhon’s interior. Running like hell, I dodged and rolled until my lungs burned with exhaustion. Can’t keep this up.
I didn’t know if my stunners could fry the electrical components, but I whirled and fired. Time to find out. The drone sizzled and sparked, but it didn’t drop, so I took aim again. This time, the electric burst shorted it out and it smashed to the floor. By the noise in the distance, I could tell that more were on the way. I couldn’t linger.
As I rounded the corner, I took a glancing shot across the back of my arm. Damn, not a stunner. Typhon was no longer inclined to play. On the plus side, the laser burn cauterized my nerve endings, so it didn’t hurt after that first white-hot burst.
