by Rachel Caine
As soon as we strapped in and opened the docking doors, a boom rolled through Typhon like thunder. He was jettisoning everything that wasn’t bolted down with enough force that some of them might be killed if they smashed up against Nadim’s shield, best-case scenario, and with Nadim towing hard, we were moving away from the swarm, the few that struggled weightless in the void. They moved slower in isolation, faster as the group. Surely they’d die if they didn’t eventually find shelter? It was hard to imagine otherwise, but maybe they could go into hibernation or something—dormant until a likely target appeared. They could latch on to a passing ship like a tick, burrow in, take over.
That must have been the fate of the other Leviathan. These things had killed the Honors, gutted the brain, and worn its skin. They had multiplied inside, like a virus, before bursting out on us.
With a skill even Beatriz couldn’t match, Chao-Xing glided the Hopper out into space. We weren’t far from Nadim’s docking area, but something in the wreckage caught my eye. I didn’t ask her; I just scanned.
Two life signs, faint and flickering now, but holy shit, somebody had survived that horrific battle, maybe even Honors we’d stood onstage with.
I tapped Chao-Xing’s shoulder. “Detour. We’ve got survivors.”
“We should escape while we can,” she said.
“If we’d said that, you wouldn’t even be here.”
Her fulminating silence only lasted a few seconds, felt longer. Then she switched course, dodging Leviathan debris with a celerity and grace that filled me with admiration. I could learn so much from her. Soon, we had visual confirmation; I’d expected pods like I had seen in old vids, but these were more like membrane pouches similar to the sac that protected a human fetus during pregnancy. Shapes were moving inside.
“That stuff must be stronger than it looks,” I said, doubtful.
“It is. Get to the back. You’ll have to find a way to haul them in.”
There was room, barely, for the two, and it took precious time we might not have because I was struggling to catch and pull while Chao-Xing reverse-thrustered toward them. The rescue op was slow and tedious, and we had to avoid floating pockets of the dark swarm, struggling feebly toward us. Impossible to make out who we’d saved, but I breathed better once we had them aboard.
“Okay, let’s go. Open a channel to Beatriz.”
“Where the hell are you?” she shouted the minute the comm pinged.
“I’m on Typhon’s Hopper, incoming with Marko, Chao-Xing, and two others. Marko will need EMITU, so have him on standby, okay? And tell Nadim I’m fine.”
“You have to stop doing this!”
“What?”
“Running off without talking things over with us first. Nadim is out of his mind, and it’s making me want to climb the walls. This bond stuff is bullshit, absolute . . .” Bea lapsed into Portuguese, still ranting.
A sound came from Chao-Xing, one I didn’t recognize. Laughter. So much that she could hardly pilot the Hopper. I gave her a dark look. “This is funny to you?”
“Hilarious. And you wonder why we almost failed you both.”
“Hey, I passed, remember?”
Chao-Xing smirked. “Did you?”
No matter how I pestered, she wouldn’t elaborate. We sped up, and I got my first look at Nadim towing Typhon, both bleeding starlight. It was like those old tugboats hauling a giant barge down the river, small in size, mighty in power. Nadim slowed and dropped shields long enough for us to swoop inside, and then he locked everything down again. Maybe it was safe to relax, but I wouldn’t let my guard down until we put some distance between us and the remains of the horde.
There was so much shit to sort. Thankfully, Bea was there when we piled out of the Hopper. She’d put EMITU on rover mode, and it immediately locked on to Marko. “You’re all kinds of jacked up, son.” Then it ran the scanner over him and jabbed him with a hypodermic.
Chao-Xing swiveled her head so fast, I was surprised it didn’t pop off. “You altered our medical unit?”
“Uh, our medical unit,” I said. “He’s awesome now.”
We got Marko onto a gurney and Bea hurried off, presumably to supervise EMITU. “Hey, C-X, we’re pretty far past worrying about minor infractions. Right?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Okay. Warbitch?”
She ignored that, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she wiped blood from her face. “I don’t care about your mods. Those shields saved our asses. And I don’t mind saying, your battle strategy was not bad for an amateur.”
That shocked me so much, I tripped on my own feet. “I . . . what?”
“That’s a compliment. Say thank you and then shut your hole.” Chao-Xing still looked stern, but I caught a hint of a twinkle that time.
She’d said before, I was just like you, once. Maybe she really meant it, and like me, she wanted people to think she was quite the hardass, but the truth was, it just took a while to earn her respect. I could relate to that on all levels. Anyway, I liked her better when we were on the same team.
“Your shoulder needs to be fixed,” she said then.
“I know.”
“It’s going to hurt. A lot.” The relish in her voice made me take two steps in the opposite direction, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing me.
Her hands were brutal and efficient, and they slipped the joint back together. I ate a shriek and then stopped wanting to die. There were levels of pain, and compared to the migraines I used to get, this was a five at best. I breathed through it and eventually managed to whisper, “Thanks.”
“You did well,” Chao-Xing told me.
It felt like a hug.
Honor Cole. The deep voice startled me because it wasn’t Nadim. It was Typhon. Technically, we were bonded through him, as the boarding tube still connected the two ships, but I didn’t realize the Elder could do this, especially at such a remove.
I answered hesitantly. Yeah? Then, How are you talking to me right now?
There is something in your brain not like other humans, he said. I suppose he meant my Leviathan DNA patch, to cure the headaches. I didn’t like the implications. And you touched my mind before. I have the right to speak with you.
Last time you do it, Typhon. We’re not friends.
No, he agreed. We are not. But if you had not returned, all would have been lost.
For obvious reasons, I had to ask, Does this mean Nadim is safe?
Soul-deep weariness enveloped me. From judgment? Yes. There is no Gathering now. I owe my survival to him. Typhon paused before going on with great care. I am old. It is still possible to be a warrior with a living heart. Nadim has proved that.
While that didn’t entirely make sense, I thought I had the gist. But Nadim was done with standing by while I communed with Typhon. He enfolded me in warmth that also sent the Elder away, efficiently severing our contact. Nadim’s relief buoyed me up, but he was still citrine and crimson with fear and restrained violence.
“Are those creatures still a threat?” I asked. First question, most relevant.
“We are outpacing them,” he said. “They are going quiet now. I don’t know if that means they’re dead.”
“Do you know anything about them? Anything at all?”
“Only what you saw,” he told me. “But the others will know more.”
I had so many questions, but we needed to tend our rescued Honors first. “Okay. Shall we see who we’ve brought aboard?”
Chao-Xing was already on it, slicing the membranes with assurance. I kept one hand on my weapon in case this was a trick and something came out that needed to be shot. But when she dug her fingers into the slimy goo and scooped it away, the movement revealed a human face. Male, a little younger than Marko, dark skin, luxurious braids. Brown eyes opened and the man lurched upright, hacking up a spate of liquid.
“I lived?” He sounded none too sure, but I recognized his uniform. Definitely an Honor, but not one who�
�d come up with us.
“It appears so.” Chao-Xing gave him a hand and helped him climb out of his space placenta.
Figuring why not, I slashed the next one open and only recoiled slightly when I got a tentacle face instead of an earthling. Abysmal Hummus? I couldn’t remember the alien species name, but it looked just like the one I shot. Gingerly, I poked it—the skin felt like a manta ray, but thinner and more delicate—and then I launched backward when it scuttled at me.
History does repeat.
Only this time I didn’t fire, and it stopped just short of touching, writhing a bunch of tentacles at me. “Thanks this you for salvation.”
“Uhm. Sure. Could you, uh, back up?” I asked. It slithered away, blinking all its eyes at once. “Nice. Good.”
“Good,” it echoed. “Good?”
“Good.”
“Good.”
I didn’t know what he thought he was saying, and I glanced desperately at Chao-Xing. Who produced an H2 from her belt pouch. “What’re your birth names, and bond-names if you had one?”
“Yusuf,” said the human. “I served on Xolani for my Tour and later bonded with Artemisia for the Journey. Together, our name . . . is . . . was . . . Temiyus.” He seemed to process the tense then. Realizing his loss. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, so stunned it hurt to see it.
I made an unconscious move, maybe to comfort him, but Nadim whispered, No. There is no help for him. Only time. And waiting to see if he is strong to bear it.
I couldn’t, I thought.
You must, Nadim said, bathing me in steely determination. If it comes to that. There must always be a you, even without me.
A breath that was almost a sob gusted out of me. And if I say that back to you?
Nadim had no reply.
Ignoring the tragedy she couldn’t change, Chao-Xing made a note and turned to the Abysmal Hummus. “Report your details.”
Like before, there were weird stops and starts in its speech, likely due to processing. “My . . . name is . . . He who Sings the Star Current. I . . . sailed with . . . Ship of Breakwater. For Tour. Deep bond with Hail to You, My Goddess. Bond-name, Star Current Goddess.”
“We need to repair your translation matrix, stat,” I mumbled.
The alien flashed me a couple of tentacles. “Good!”
“I really don’t know if you get what that means.”
Chao-Xing sighed. “We’ll just call you Starcurrent for now, if that’s all right?”
“Good,” said the tentacles.
Appearing satisfied, she turned to the other man. “What do you prefer?”
“Yusuf,” he whispered. “I am only Yusuf now.”
Chao-Xing was uncomfortable, somewhere behind that blank look. And I had so many questions. Not for Starcurrent; we’d probably end up repeating words back to each other in an endless loop. Not for Yusuf, who was clearly in no shape to talk.
Let us care for the weak and wounded, and then ask. Nadim seemed a bit different now, more assertive. Maybe Leviathan changed after their first battle too.
I helped Yusuf up. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
There is no safe, Nadim whispered to me alone, and an instant later, Chao-Xing said, in precisely the same tone, “There is no safe. As you have seen.”
Much later, when everyone was tended, when we’d eaten, when we’d put light years between us and that awful carnage, untethered Typhon and Nadim and set them cruising around a nourishing star, we sat together in Nadim’s lounge. Starcurrent fidgeted, poking at this and that like he expected the furniture to poke back and fluttering tentacles when it didn’t. Marko, sedated and limping, got settled full-length on the comfortable couch.
I went over to him. “You okay?”
“Not really,” he said.
“Lot of that going around.”
“But . . . thank you for saving me.”
That wasn’t something I ever expected to hear from the polished person who hauled me out of Camp Kuna. “What can I say? Nadim made me do it.”
I should’ve known Nadim wouldn’t let that stand. “Untrue. I was wholly opposed to you risking your life.”
We touched silently, mind to mind. Nadim ached with the remembered misery of my reckless decision, and he still wasn’t healed from installing that damned alarm. He needed solid starlight and rest. Beatriz had already chewed me out, so he let me feel the aftermath—his fear cooling to a low hum of dread. In apology, I opened to him and filled him with all of the strength and reassurance I could muster. His delight swelled in response. A look from Beatriz said she knew, but she didn’t join us.
Chao-Xing paced, lost in her own thoughts. Yusuf sat silently in a chair, staring at his hands, his whole body slumped and loose.
Leaving Marko to rest, I sank down on the floor next to Beatriz. We were dirty and tired. I’d scrubbed the worst of the filthy alien blood off and changed clothes, but I still felt the ghost of it on me, cold and destructive. What if it can soak in? I wanted right then to scramble up and run to have EMITU check it out, but I was beyond exhausted. If I was infected, I’d still be infected in half an hour, and I’d be better able to deal with it.
“Well?” I asked. Nadim was silent, but his presence was everywhere around us. Typhon’s massive chill hung beyond him, almost comforting now. Sometimes, having the bully at your back could be an asset. You just kept him pointed away.
Chao-Xing gave us both a wry, shaded look, grim with a touch of graveyard humor. “Congratulations, Honors Cole and Teixeira. You’re the first humans in history to graduate to the Journey without first completing the Tour. You’ve met the enemy. We call them the Phage. And now, you are at war.”
I understood at last why I’d been chosen. Why I’d been plucked out of the grim and struggle.
I’d always been at war.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To all those reaching for the stars. Someday, the stars will reach back.
ANN:
Thanks so much to those who listened and supported me while I was working on this project. Obviously I’m starting with Rachel Caine, because without her there would be no book. Major thanks to Justina Ireland as well. I’d also like to thank Bree Bridges, Courtney Milan, Rebekah Weatherspoon, Molly O’Keefe, Melissa Blue, Kristen Callihan, and Karen Alderman. Each of these phenomenal women played a role in bringing this story to fruition, and I’m so lucky they share their wisdom and insights with me. I definitely thank my family also, particularly my husband, who has been my anchor for nearly twenty years. I hope I’m lucky enough to give him twenty more. Finally, thanks to our readers, who believed from the start that this ship sails itself.
RACHEL:
All the love to Ann Aguirre for immediately seeing the potential and agreeing to jump in and fly with me. My husband, Cat Conrad, has put up with my flights of imagination for twenty-five years, and it’s never been more difficult than these last couple of years, so extra love to him. Lucienne Diver placed tremendous faith in this crazy idea . . . and thanks also to Claudia Gabel, for taking a chance on an unconventional OTP. Special thanks to Justina Ireland for helping us see what we could not see, and to Sarah Weiss-Simpson, for somehow fitting reading this into her incredibly busy schedule, again. And thank you, always, to teachers and librarians, who labor so hard for so little, all for the love of books and readers. You shine.
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS
RACHEL CAINE is the author of more than fifty novels in multiple genres, including young adult, thriller, science fiction/fantasy, horror, and paranormal romance. She is best known for the #1 internationally bestselling fifteen-book Morgan
ville Vampires series and her Weather Warden series in urban fantasy. She lives and works in Fort Worth, Texas, with her husband, artist, actor, and comic historian R. Cat Conrad.
www.rachelcaine.com
ANN AGUIRRE is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author with a degree in English literature. Before she began writing full time, she was a clown, a clerk, a voice actress, and a savior of stray kittens, not necessarily in that order. She grew up in a yellow house across from a cornfield, but now she lives in sunny Mexico with her husband, children, and various pets. She writes all kinds of genre fiction for adults and teens.
www.annaguirre.com
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BOOKS BY RACHEL CAINE AND ANN AGUIRRE
Honor Among Thieves
Honor Bound
CREDITS
Cover art by Jeff Huang
Cover design by Aurora Parlagreco
COPYRIGHT
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
HONOR AMONG THIEVES. Text copyright © 2018 by Rachel Caine LLC and Ann Aguirre. Frontispiece art copyright © 2018 by Patrick Arrasmith. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2017943387
ISBN 978-0-06-257099-4
EPub Edition © February 2018 ISBN 9780062571014