Shit. Of course it wasn’t. C-X thought about it, then gave a decisive nod, acceding to Starcurrent’s right to make the call. Lowering her voice, she whispered, just for my ears, “Be ready.”
Oh, I was. On high alert, I settled into battle mode; I’d always been handy in a fight, and these last few months with Nadim—all the shit we’d faced—got me to levels I never thought I’d reach. Chao-Xing and I were lethal when we had to be, and that was valuable in situations like this.
Not that I wanted my first real alien diplomacy to end with a fight. In our time on the Sliver, we fought in the gladiator pit, and we’d learned that while the Abyin Dommas might be pacifists by nature, you did not want to throw down against them. Courteous, friendly, kind, all that was true, but they were also venomous and would kill if they had to. They just tried not to kill anybody as a matter of course.
Unlike us, I guessed. Humans had made it an art form.
Starcurrent sang more, and we waited. It was more of an opera than a pop song, full of dramatic runs and accompanied by gestures from all zis limbs. Fascinating to watch. But I didn’t like the shifting hues of those who were listening. None of those colors looked happy. The Abyin Dommas also changed positions as they heard Starcurrent’s story; some drifted higher, some lower, tentacles brushing the floor. Some faded back, some forward. Might have been normal shifting around. I didn’t know, and I didn’t love being uninformed.
Starcurrent went on a while, and when ze fell silent, nobody else spoke. Nobody. They just drifted, colors pulsing and flashing in complicated patterns that I knew meant something but couldn’t interpret on my own.
Then one of them spoke. Just one. “Leave or die.”
That was . . . direct. I exchanged looks with Chao-Xing; I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. But she bowed again, deeper than before. “Our sincerest apologies,” she said. “We will be at your disposal if you need us. On behalf of our Leviathan—”
This time it wasn’t one of them. It was all of them, except Starcurrent. “Leave or die!” There was a definite edge to it.
Starcurrent’s colors turned ashen, almost translucent. Zis tentacles went limp and drooped. Though I didn’t speak chromatophore, I could tell that this was bad. Really bad.
One of the others said, “Starcurrent may remain, but ze requires punishment.”
“I go with my Leviathan and crew,” ze replied.
“Then you choose exile.”
Starcurrent’s aspect remained bleak and ze simply said, “Understood.”
Then the alarms went off.
I couldn’t tell sound from pain. The whole city was ringing, and we stood inside the bell. I clapped my hands to my ears, but it didn’t help, and I tried to yell to C-X but she was already moving back toward the Hopper. The Abyin Dommas had guided us in and cut off access to flight controls. What did punishment mean, exactly? And were they trying it on us? Maybe they’d moved on from the sentencing phase and were prepping for execution.
Starcurrent had jetted ahead of us, moving so fast in this low-grav that ze was a blur; we followed more clumsily. We weren’t made for this, and it took me a second to remember how to move without weight, only mass. I let myself go still and settle, then bounced off at the right trajectory and soared ahead of Chao-Xing, who pushed off and leapfrogged me. We arrived together, or very nearly, and Starcurrent already had the hatch open and was inside.
C-X got in the pilot’s seat with a grace I envied, and I strapped in as she checked the console. Before she touched anything, the Hopper started moving. “Shit!” I yelped, and she let out a blistering yell of fury and hit the console hard enough to dent something.
“They’ve still got us!” she shouted. “Starcurrent! What are they doing?”
“Pushing us out,” ze replied. “They will not harm us.”
“Sorry if I don’t take your word for that,” she shot back. “The mood in there was not peaceful.”
“No,” ze agreed. The dejected color of zis body hadn’t improved. “I told them that the resurrection of Lifekiller was not our choice—that it was done by Bacia Annont—and that we stand ready to fight. They did not forgive us.” Starcurrent’s tentacles drooped a little more. “My actions are an abomination to my people. I carried Lifekiller beyond the tomb. I made this possible. Without me you might not have succeeded.” Ze hesitated for a long moment. “Better we all had died there.”
Well, that was grim, and I wasn’t going there. We’d broken it. We’d fix it. “Not your fault,” I said.
“I have lost my home. My people.”
“You’ve got us.” I twisted around, though the straps dug in hard. Starcurrent wasn’t even holding on, except with a couple of tentacles. “Starcurrent. You’ve got us. Hear me? We’re your people. We’re your home.” I meant it with all my heart, and ze must have heard it, because ze brightened up just a little. “Now hold on. We don’t know what’s coming, or how bumpy it’s going to get.”
“Yes, Zara,” ze said softly. “I will hold on.”
It occurred to me that Nadim had been remarkably silent this entire time. So quiet that once I realized it, it worried me. So I reached out.
I’m here, Zara, he said. I am never far. I listened. There was nothing else I could do. I sensed his surge of frustration, and with it, a curious little edge of humor. I am not accustomed to being—how did you put it once?—an accessory.
You’re never that, I told him, and let him feel how much I meant it. What do you think? Are they angry at us?
Oh yes, Nadim said solemnly. Very angry indeed. And I believe they consider us almost as dangerous as the one we fight.
Getting back to Nadim was easy enough, as it turned out; the Abyin Dommas released us without a word or signal, and we drifted until Chao-Xing regained control and piloted us back. “Coming aboard,” she signaled him.
“I know,” he said, and yep, there was that edge of amusement again. Despite everything, he still thought things were funny. I liked that about him. Oh, who was I kidding? I liked everything about him. I’d given up thinking I was weird for being all into this. I’d never had a human lover treat me half this well, or interest me half this much.
We touched down in the docking area without even a bump; smooth as glass, that Chao-Xing. She sighed and flexed her hands a little, the only sign of tension she revealed. “I’m heading back to Typhon,” she said. “What’s our plan?”
“Chase Lifekiller,” I said. “What else can we do?”
“I don’t like it. It gives Lifekiller the advantage. There’s a saying in Chinese: Never swallow bait offered by your enemy.”
“Whoever said that probably never fought in space, so I don’t know that he’s got a real informed opinion about this,” I told her. “You come up with a better plan, blast it over. Until then . . .”
She shook her head, probably at my lack of respect for a venerable strategist, but didn’t argue. Starcurrent and I retreated out of the docking bay and into the protected area before it depressurized again, and the Hopper zoomed away toward Typhon.
“Cheer up,” I told Starcurrent. “Your people are alive, and they are seriously pissed off. That’s a good thing. Means they’ll be ready for trouble next time it shows up.”