Honor Among Thieves

by Rachel Caine

  We fired the cannon and felt the cold spread inside, energy drained away. Flesh seared and burned, turned to ash. The Elder’s surprise roared through us, over us, pain and shock and surprise, and he rolled.

  Now. Now!

  We hit full speed at the point where a barbed tail was bio-grafted to him, and ruptured the skin; it tore away and sent a froth of silvery blood spinning out into the void, mingling with the blood from so many others. It didn’t come cheap, this small victory; we sustained crushing injuries, and more wounds from his guns before we sped free, turning and arcing and twisting back.

  He fired at us again but still couldn’t see us through the pain and Beatriz’s singing reflecting back at him. Couldn’t hear us. Couldn’t feel us.

  We were tired, though. The dark run and firing the weapon had drained us fast, left us cold and clumsy.

  Nadim pushed me free of the bond just as the last of it flickered away, and he was left exposed, an easy target in the glow of the suns. Beatriz had collapsed. No more song to baffle the Elder’s senses.

  I staggered to the console and slapped the panel. Shields. Nadim shuddered and the power dropped still more—but the shield soaked the hit that could have broken him in two. But we didn’t have the power to absorb another of the Elder’s massive attacks. It gave Nadim time to wheel away from the onslaught, so instead of it annihilating us, we only took damage.

  Only.

  The Elder went to his guns, and though Nadim lithely rolled, he couldn’t quite avoid the shot that blew part of his solar fin away. The pain made both me and Beatriz scream. I hit the floor without even realizing that my knees had given out. When I opened my eyes, I spotted Bea clinging to the edge of the console, swaying, but she still stood, like she was never leaving her station. Bravery and defiance in every line, every curve. I got the hell up and joined her. Shoulder to shoulder, soldiers on the battlements just like I’d seen in Typhon’s mind.

  Except our war wasn’t his. We were fighting for Nadim. And we would never, ever surrender.

  Nadim didn’t have enough energy to fire. Our shield was gone. We needed a thousand generators, maybe a nuclear fusion core, or we’d have to harvest a star to have enough power to survive this fight . . . I could’ve cried. All that work . . .

  There was no victory here. Nobody to left to save in the wasteland.

  Run, I pleaded through the bond.

  Nadim complied, diving close to the twin suns, twisting a narrow course between them, and I felt the heat even through his insulating skin; the Elder was waiting for him and fired again. Nadim fell back, close to the sun’s surface, so close I could feel his skin cooking before he plunged out again, vectoring to put the sun between him and the other ship.

  I turned on the comms. “Calling any Honors aboard that ship! What are you doing? Stop him!”

  Nothing. We should have felt the Elder’s massive, powerful essence, but there was nothing coming from the other ship at all.

  He was a void of cold, arid destruction.

  Had his Honors died? If a human could go mad with his ship, did a ship go mad without his Honors? It isn’t that. Can’t be.

  I’d once thought of Nadim as a haunted house when he was in dark sleep, but this Elder felt like a real one, inhabited by a bloody, savage ghost who craved nothing but death.

  Nadim faltered. He was running out of power, unable to feed properly due to damage. We were too far from the right stars, the right songs.

  I dove, clicking into the deep bond, leaving my skin behind to stand motionless and black-eyed at the console, and braided my strength, my resolve into him. We must get away and spread the word. We have to stop any other Honors from being dragged into this. . . . But we were too damn far to contact Earth directly. The best we could hope for was that they’d receive our signal someday, long after our fates were sealed.

  Nadim told me, with surprising gentleness, We won’t get away. I am trying to sing to other ships what has happened.

  That was when I heard Bea lifting her heartbreaking, beautiful voice, rising and falling in harmony with the vibrations and pulses that Nadim was sending out. Singing with all her strength and adding it to Nadim’s. The Leviathan could communicate across huge distances. Maybe somewhere, someone would hear.

  Unless they’ve all died, I thought on a tide of despair. Unless Nadim is the last.

  And that was when the rushing, screaming, ice-cold presence of Typhon blew in, coming in a heart-stopping rush from out of the void. Seeing him and the other Leviathan Elder together, I didn’t know why I’d confused them even for a moment. It was clear that Typhon was even bigger, bristled with even more weapons.

  What was also unmistakable was the rage that rushed out of him when he took in the shattered corpses of the other Leviathan and Nadim’s damage.

  Comms activated with a burst, and I heard Marko shouting something.

  Typhon came on with screaming speed. I melted into Nadim again, and together we rolled out of the way, and Typhon slammed the other Leviathan, wrecking his shit in an epic crash that sent pieces of broken guns scattering, fire erupting from energy cells buried deep, lighting the dark side of the planet beneath where Nadim dipped and curled to avoid the destruction as two titans clashed in battle.

  What the hell is this thing trying to destroy us? It looked like an Elder, but it acted like it wasn’t a sentient being anymore, just a beast of boundless violence.

  Zadim watched as Typhon’s tail flexed, lifted, and drove with brutal, stunning force deep inside the other Leviathan. It did huge damage, but the enemy darted away. Its weapons mostly hung useless, scraps of metal trailing loose from open sores.

  “Zara!” Beatriz was shaking my body, and I dropped out of the bond to respond.

  I scrambled after her to the comm. The roaring of two Elders shook Nadim, making it almost impossible to hear or concentrate, but I caught some of what Marko was saying. “—escape, get Nadim out of here, now, he’s too close, when it spreads—”

  I had no idea what he was warning us about, but I agreed; we couldn’t stay. Typhon was locked in a vicious struggle, behemoths colliding and crushing like galaxies going to war, and we had nothing useful to add. We needed to go. Now.

  Nadim was willing, but weak; the damage done to his solar fin was not just painful, but debilitating and healing far too slowly. We were close enough to the binaries that he was able to fly on, but he wouldn’t get far from this battlefield. The next star was hours away. I wasn’t sure he could make it, injured as he was.

  We’d only gotten as far as the next planet out when the battered, silent Elder ship spun free of the battle and hung silent while Typhon backed away. The battleground swam with drifting trails of blood, eddies of wreckage. Typhon had been hurt too. Badly. I could sense the maroon agony pulsing from him, and the raw determination too. A wounded soldier, facing the enemy with a bent sword and no hope.

  Something happened to the other ship. It seemed to rock in space, side to side, as if it was being hit, only there was nothing I could see near it. Then I saw that it was . . . pulsing. Swelling. And then the other Leviathan’s skin peeled away, spinning off in strips. Blood geysered from severed arteries into a floating cloud of silver around it.

  It swelled again. Pulsed.

  Exploded.

  And out of the corpse came a black rush of . . . things.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Breaking Bad

  “BEA! DROP ALL power to nonessential systems. Drop everything! Get our shield back up.” I was already running for the nearest hatch.

  Nobody had to tell me that this dark swarm was why Typhon had internal defenses, all the traps and gases and sectioned-off corridors. They were like onyx needles, visible only from the hissing violence of the binary stars as the light shimmered on sharp edges. These were some nasty weird-ass space pirates, and I wasn’t letting them commandeer either of these ships.

  This idea has to work, it has to.

  If it didn’t, I had nothing else.


  Leaving my body at the hatch, ready to fight in case we were boarded, I leapt for Nadim with no hesitation. He was scared and in pain, and when we locked in, it nearly overwhelmed us. We fumbled for a second until the Zara part remembered. The dark cloud was nearly to Typhon; we would save him, we could save him.

  Typhon, grapple! We sang it, as both an order and a plea. The irony might amuse in better times, since we’d fought so hard to get free of his hook before. We had no choice but to ally with him. We still didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean we’d leave him to . . . this.

  A rumble of disapproval mingled with reluctant admiration. Typhon thought we meant to stand and die with him. Then the Elder latched on, not just the tow line from before, but a full docking tube that connected us hatch to hatch. Symbolic acceptance, we are one, we share the same fate. A significant commitment, but events were not going to unfold as he expected. We hoped.

  As the swarm neared Typhon, we lunged, and our shield came up with exquisite timing. We could not go weapons hot. We would be the weapon. Our shield let us slam into Typhon’s side without taking additional damage, and he was so much bigger that the impact did little more than bruise. But the crawling things caught between the two ships?

  They died. Crushed.

  We swung in reverse and slammed into his other side, smashing more, but others survived, swarming up, up. And our horror grew as we watched them stab, chew with diamond-sharp mouths, trying to penetrate Typhon’s armored skin.

  This is how they take us.

  Our energy shield bewildered them, so they crawled along the docking tube with awful dexterity. Hard to say how many; we could not count them. Soon, they would breach Typhon’s hull. Already, his thrashing had slowed, movements sluggish, and the blood trail sang of dying stars, of so many who had gone before. Of those lost in the Gathering.

  Time to fight.

  We—I—dropped back into my skin, and I took a quick inventory. No intruders—Nadim was still clean. “Status, Bea?”

  “Some damage, shields holding for now,” she came back.

  “Okay, I need you to keep them up and start towing Typhon away if you can. I don’t know if we have the strength for it.”

  “I will find it,” Nadim said as if it was as simple as deciding to do it.

  “Excellent. I’ll be back soon.” Without waiting for possible objections, I cracked open the hatch. “Two seconds, bring the shields down, then back up.”

  “But—” Nadim sounded shocked. “You will be outside their protection!”

  “That’s the idea,” I said. Before he could talk me out of it, I dodged out as the shield sizzled away. It was rock steady when it came up again. The shields wouldn’t let anything in now. Not even me.

  I checked my skinsuit as I ran down the boarding tube, weapons at the ready. A black-edged thing dropped down on me, too fast for me to get a good look, and I shot it in the face, right in a rotating ring of fast-moving teeth. I didn’t use a stunner, either. Its head evaporated, leaving an arachnid body that ran five steps at me before falling down. A deep shudder rolled over me so hard, I almost threw up.

  And the smell—

  Indescribable.

  It was worse inside Typhon. There were multiple breach points, and though I’d only bonded with him once, his revulsion and agony nearly swept me at the knees. I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. Huge mistake, because it clarified the contact even more. Quickly I yanked my hand away, wondering how the hell Marko and Chao-Xing were even functioning.

  He’s protecting them, I realized.

  His coldness and cruelty keeping them separate from him had a point after all; it might save their lives during an attack like this.

  I tried my comm and hoped the ones inside Typhon were still working. “Marko! Chao-Xing! Where are you?”

  Marko’s voice came back in a rush. “Midships, near the central hub!” That was a long way. I broke into a run. The corridor ahead of me curved, and there were signs of fighting—cuts and dark splashes on the walls, two black-shelled bodies lying on top of each other at the next bend. I leapt over them and hoped that they weren’t just pretending, that they wouldn’t reach up and grab me, horror-movie style. They didn’t. I landed and kept running.

  I found Marko pinned down and half-mad with Typhon’s pain, shooting wildly; the hall between us was filled with black-armored intruders. This corridor had been fitted out with some control boxes, and I quickly took shelter behind one. Multiple electrical conduits were fried, so the lights kept flickering. We wouldn’t have oxygen much longer if this kept up. It wouldn’t all escape at once, of course, but—I cut that thought short. One problem at a time.

  Taking a knee, I aimed and fired, nailing an intruder in the back. But it only whirled and raced at me in an awful, arachnid crawl. This thing was like if a lizard had a spider’s babies, and then ate them and then threw up and wrapped the vomit up in knives and then—hell, I ran out of ideas. Awful. That was the only word for what was trying to kill me. How many eyes were there? Instead of counting, I shot it.

  That made the others turn, and I picked a couple more off while Marko settled enough to take one. Typhon’s training was supposed to harden him, but he only looked worn to the bone. There was only so much wax in the candle, after all, and burning it at both ends for too long was a bad idea.

  I took out every intruder between us and skidded to a stop next to where he crouched.

  “Zara! What’re you doing here?”

  “Dumb question. I’m saving your ass, obviously. Where’s Chao-Xing?”

  “I’m not sure. I lost track of her.” He tried to stand and his knee buckled.

  Belatedly, I caught sight of the dark blood trickling from beneath his torn uniform. I threw his arm over my shoulder and hefted him. He wasn’t a small guy, but I was motivated. We needed to get the hell off Typhon and trust that his automated defenses would take care of any creatures that had burrowed through.

  I was about to suggest the comm when he activated it on his own. “Chao-Xing, are you there? Do you copy?”

  “Busy!” she shouted.

  The sound of weapon fire rattled the air, along with the bizarre clicks and hisses that seemed to pass for speech among the attackers. I took the comm away from Marko. “Can you get to the docking bay? We’ll help you clear a path.”

  “I’ll get there or die trying.”

  Pulling Marko along with me, I got moving. “Either’s okay with me, C-X.”

  “Call me that again, and I’m going to kick your ass!”

  “Yeah, right.” I wasn’t scared of her at all anymore. Compared to these . . . creatures, she was a huggable bunny.

  “Do we have to worry about these things hacking Typhon’s nav system?” I asked Marko. If they took over, it would be bad. Even if we saved these two Honors, we might not be able to save the Elder.

  He shook his head. “Not until they’ve destroyed us. Then they’d have to burrow into his brain and take it over. They have built-in imperatives.”

  “Say what?”

  “First, destroy organic resistance. Then infest and occupy the vessel. Then core out the host’s mind.”

  “Shit,” I said. “So, we’re the organic resistance?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, I’ve been called worse. Let’s move.”

  That explained why they were so focused, though, running at us like machines. They didn’t show fear or hesitation, no matter how many we killed. If they’d had greater numbers, if we hadn’t smashed so many outside with operation Scylla and Charybdis, we would’ve been overrun. As it was, I used all my energy packs and had to holster both lethal guns. We left a trail of stinking corpses behind us, easy enough for Chao-Xing to follow.

  By then, Marko was dragging his leg like it was dead, and his weight slowed me down. I didn’t consider leaving him. But as if he sensed the slant of my thoughts, he asked, “Why did you come back? You were clear to run.”

  “Nadim,” I said. “He�
�s not the type to abandon his friends.”

  Marko smiled. “And you are?”

  As we neared the docking bay, we hit one last pocket of resistance. From the other side, I heard the sound of Chao-Xing’s weapons firing and the explosions from automated defenses, bots and drones working hard to purge the invaders.

  Typhon boomed with frustration, anguish, and fury. Then he managed to force his message into words. “Go. When you’re clear, I can vent atmosphere.”

  “Copy,” I said.

  With a ferocious cry, I charged into the knot of aliens and scattered them with wild stunner shots because that was all I had left. A few twitched and fell down, others shook it off. It didn’t matter because I wasn’t trying to kill them, just clear a path. It took all my strength to push through with Marko leaning on me, and my skinsuit tore in three places, claws or fangs or I didn’t know what. The stunner vibrated and died. Now it was down to knives and street fighting.

  I grabbed the nearest limb and twisted; horror nearly drowned me when it snapped off in my hand and the creature didn’t even slow down. It latched on to my arm, about to bite, and I dislocated my shoulder in the maneuver that had saved my ass more than once. That gave me the time I needed to kick it away and slash. The knife didn’t do much harm; it skidded off the armored skin of the thing. As the rest lunged at me in mindless unison, Chao-Xing unloaded on them with a viciously accurate salvo from behind and a wicked battle cry in Mandarin.

  Alien goo splattered Marko and me. I hurt in so many places, but I still got a happy chill when I turned to look at her because she stood with her weapon cocked, scanning for additional threats while covered in the blood of her enemies.

  “You’ll never know how cool you just were.”

  Somehow, she didn’t even crack a smile. “Trust me, xiao Zara. I know.”

  With her help, I got Marko on board the Hopper. Chao-Xing took the wheel since she was the more experienced pilot. He was drifting in and out, maybe poisoned? I didn’t know if he’d been bitten or if those creatures had venom. The way they looked, I could believe it. I had their blood on me. It felt unnaturally cold, contrasting with the fire in my dislocated shoulder.