Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(22)

“Is it true that Zara is your replacement aboard Nadim?”

Marko had an easy, holo-friendly smile. I’d never be able to do that. “Yes, it’s true,” he said. “Chao-Xing is coming with her own replacement today as well.”

A tall, goofy-looking reporter waved until he caught my eye. “Zara, Zara! Are you a musician as well?”

I swallowed and managed to croak, “No.”

“Then what are your talents?”

I shrugged. “Take a look. Figure it out.”

My old man had had enough of being ignored, and he pushed forward, trying to join our family lineup by force. “I’m Zara’s father,” he said, “and—”

Marko gestured; his mic cut out. Mom smiled for the cameras. “I always knew Zara was special. She’s strong, and she’s always been very independent.”

Kiz beamed and waved; she was so photogenic on the holo that it hurt in a good way. Like, it was worth all this nonsense to see my baby sister this happy.

Mom and Kiz took a few questions about life on Mars, but it was me the press wanted to hear, so I answered as best I could, hating every minute of it and not saying much beyond bare facts, but it kept Dear Old Dad from spewing whatever lies he had rehearsed.

Eventually, Ms. Valdez signaled the crowd. “That’s all the time we have today, everyone! Please meet me in the briefing room in Ballroom B for downloads of Honor Cole’s biography and highlights.”

Someone shouted, “Will Zara’s family be available to answer some questions?”

I glanced at Mom, who shook her head slightly.

“No,” I said, at the same time my old man, of course, said, “Yes,” and I glared at Marko. He went to instruct Ms. Valdez, who nodded briskly, as if herding and muzzling the families of Honors was just another part of her job. Which it probably was.

“This way.” Marko guided us off the dais, and I held on to my mom and sister as we moved through the crowd. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Kiz smiled at Marko, so cute that his expression warmed up by ten degrees. “We’ve got ours already. Some Honors rep said we’re in an adjoining suite.”

Finally, a bright spot to this circus.

Just then, a side door opened, disgorging a disheveled guy in his twenties. He had a look straight out of the Zone—unshaved, pallid, shaky, wearing a stained Honors uniform. His eyes locked on mine, and I recognized the look in them. Equal parts desperate and haunted. Saw a lot of both on the streets, and it didn’t look any different in a fancy hotel.

Kiz let out a little cry and moved back. Marko instantly tapped his H2, and a security notice flashed on the wall beside us. Guards would be on the way, fast.

The guy grabbed my arm, and I moved to free myself with instinctive violence, but he was strong. Really strong. “It’s a lie.” His breath smelled sickly sweet. “Ask them about the weapons. Ask them. I think . . . I think I remember—”

“Who are you?” I blurted that back just to keep him talking instead of twisting, but all I could think of was how much I was going to have to hurt him to get rid of him.

He didn’t seem to hear me, too panicked or lost in memories. His intensity gave me the shivers. “Don’t go out there with them, they lie, they all lie. I think—they told me—” He let go of me and slapped his head with both hands, hard enough to hurt. Kept doing it. “No, no, that’s not right, I know I saw—I know—” His voice was rising in pitch and panic now, but I was already backing off. He grabbed for me again. “Please listen! Don’t go!”

“Step away from my daughter!” Mom charged forward, and with a strength that surprised me and shocked him, she wrenched his hand away and twisted it until his knees buckled. I’d never seen all that much resemblance between us, but damn, that expression? I’d felt that on my own face. Pure, righteous fury.

She didn’t let go until security charged in to take control. And then she turned on Marko. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes were bleak as he watched the intruder being rushed out. “Valenzuela was a year ahead of us. He . . . didn’t adapt well on the ship, and had to be removed midyear. I thought he was in treatment.”

That sounded like a prepared explanation, and I had a good ear for bullshit. “He seemed fine in the interviews he gave before he shipped out last year.” I’d listened with half an ear while I was stuck in Camp Kuna, but I still remembered Valenzuela. He’d been relaxed, confident, eager to start his trip. No sign of the shambling wreck he was now.

“That’s not always an indicator of how well someone integrates.”

“If you say so,” I muttered. Didn’t believe a word. Don’t go, Valenzuela had said. He had to mean, Don’t go up to the Leviathan. Why not? What did he know?

Tense silence reigned until the elevator doors dinged open. We got in.

Kiz asked softly, “What did he mean, telling Zara not to go? Is there some kind of danger?”

“Of course not,” Marko said, and distracted her by talking about all the celebrities who would be attending various events. I didn’t miss that slick diversion.

Ever polite, he walked us down a long, empty hallway. The carpet was black, with nano-stars and slowly swirling galaxies. We were walking on space, and on either side, doors showed pulsing designs of nebulas, Oort clouds, and thick star fields. We stopped in front of one that shifted from a spinning galaxy to Welcome Honor Cole at our approach. Marko handed me a thin, clear card, and as I touched it, the door clicked open.