“I’ve already scanned. I’ll send our new coordinates.”
My equipment pinged and Nadim fired up the 3D holo map so I could see our destination. “Binary star, nice. It looks . . . peaceful.”
“For now,” Chao-Xing muttered.
“How are Marko and Yusuf holding up?”
It felt weirdly like C-X and I had become team leaders for our respective crews, though I wasn’t sure how that came to pass. Nobody ever voted us in; that was for sure.
“Yusuf is better both mentally and physically. The work is good for him, keeps him distracted. Marko . . . isn’t handling the guilt well.”
I didn’t have to ask; she must mean from us stealing Lifekiller’s alleged corpse and letting Bacia wake him up to ravage the galaxy like in the old days. Yeah, Marko was the type to take it hard—he’d believed all the propaganda about the Honors program. Sometimes having no ideals left to shatter made for a smoother ride when shit got rough.
“Anything we can do?” I asked.
“Stay on mission. I know you think I’m lacking in empathy, but if we sit around trying to hug Marko into feeling better, millions of people could die.”
“Actually, I’m with you. I wasn’t going to suggest a sing-along.”
Her mouth quirked in a faint smile. “Maybe we’ll make an Honor of you yet.”
“Bullshit. I hate rules.”
“Fair enough. How’s Starcurrent? Ze didn’t look good when we left Greenheld.”
“Not great.” That was enough info, I figured. She could read between the lines as well as anyone. “Let’s wrap this up and get moving.”
“Agreed.”
My screen went dark. It would be hard to maintain video contact moving at the speeds we needed to hit to reach our destination in a reasonable amount of time. Considering how much harm Lifekiller could do while we recharged, I wanted to fight. Feeling powerless was an awful way to end the day.
Stretching, I glanced around Ops and found that both Bea and Starcurrent had vanished while I was troubleshooting. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d eaten or showered. Food first, though. I headed into the kitchenette and grabbed a random food pack. That made me consider: if we were never going back to Earth, the supplies would run out, and not too far in the future either. That was a sobering thought. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life subsisting on the tasteless “nutritionally adequate” protein cubes I’d eaten on the Sliver.
Opening my pack revealed a brown and glutinous stew. It contained bits of meat or maybe soy substitute, sweet potatoes, chickpeas . . . well, whatever. Made me reconsider the damn protein cubes. I gobbled it down and headed for my room. Nadim was moving, but not fast enough to get us to the binary stars as quick as we needed to be there. Part of me feared that he’d drift into that dangerous dark sleep again and I’d have to use the shock device on him to wake him up; it was a genetic defect that we both had to deal with, but I hated hurting him. My stomach rolled just thinking about it.
I took a long shower, properly caring for my hair and moisturizing my skin; damn, I needed that. I could excuse crispy ends and ashy elbows in the middle of a crisis, but I was getting attached to pampering myself. Afterward, I put on the thin clothes I’d picked up on the Sliver, colorful like a superhero suit, comfortable enough to serve as pajamas. Then I lay down on the floor, connecting to Nadim with my hands and feet.
This would comfort both of us.
I slid into the bond and Zadim stirred, soaking in the shimmer of energies on our skin. We hurt too, but we’d had worse. The real problem was this thick, enveloping exhaustion that made it feel as if we could just . . . stop. Being, breathing. We sensed the darkness hovering, and it might be sleep from which we wouldn’t awaken.
Normally, there was only joy and exploration, quicksilver pleasure, but now we felt weighted, our tail made of some impossibly dense metal, dragging us down. The armor on our skin scratched and bound us, more anchors in the guns embedded there. We let out a soft, mourning call over these sorrows, and Typhon answered.
He had been carrying these burdens for far longer, and in the bond, we almost understood him. Almost.
Our energies dwindled more, scant reserves for such a long journey—and the bond broke. I lay half-dazed in my small body, sprawled out on the floor. Before, I was tired. Now, I couldn’t think of a word big enough to encompass this exhaustion.
“Do you feel any better?” I asked.
“You shouldn’t have given me so much.” But Nadim sounded stronger, more alert.
Dizzily I wondered if energy exchange had always been possible or if this was new. It seemed like our connection was getting stronger all the time, constantly evolving. It was possible that one day, I’d get swallowed up in this entirely and maybe wouldn’t come back out as myself again. The incredible part was that it didn’t frighten me at all. A small shiver trilled through me, not enough to make me pull away from Nadim, the first person to love me unconditionally.
Bea was the second.
I’d do anything to keep these two safe, anything at all.
After a few close calls with the Phage and four days of nonstop travel, we finally reached the binary star. I stood by the wall that Nadim made transparent on my approach, sensing my desire to see the view before I told him.
A girl could get used to having all her needs met without ever having to ask.
The twin stars shone in pulsing light bursts, one coral, the other celadon, both like gemstones surrounded by the swirls of the asteroid belt. This rocky field didn’t sustain life, but it was wild to think that, given enough time, planets could form. Cradle of life, right in front of me.
I never got tired of the wonders out here, and it was even better when Nadim was healthy and rested. Right now, he was still weak from constant battles and I was fighting my nerves over letting Lifekiller run wild. My body hurt all over, not from combat but from constant tension. Toward the end of our run, I was even sleeping with my hands balled up, so I woke with aching fingers. The last four days, I’d spent time either training in the combat sim or scanning for any sign of the god-king.
Hell if I knew what I’d do if I spotted him, because our Leviathan couldn’t chase him down without power, but we could warn people, maybe? “Hey, Nadim?”
“Yes, Zara?”
“Is there anything like an emergency broadcast system?”
“A what?”
Right, he probably wouldn’t know. “It’s an old Earth way of spreading news quickly. It used to come on television, but as technology evolved, warnings went to people’s phones and then later their handhelds.”
“Then you’re inquiring about a system that connects all ships and outposts across all cultures? There’s nothing like that.”
“What about Leviathan song? Could you pass on info about the god-king that way?”
“Only to other Leviathan, and the others are so far away. Too far.”
“You can’t hear anyone nearby?” That was probably a pointless question.
But Nadim hesitated. “It’s possible . . .”
“What?”
“That there are others, but they are afraid to sing, after the Gathering.” A frisson of brightness sparked through me, whispers of hope that Nadim was fanning to life against all reasonable expectation.