Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(39)

With Nadim talking as I walked, it felt like he was seeing me to my room. I don’t need watching over, I wanted to tell him, but at the same time, it felt good. Safe. “Okay, well, I’m out.” Because I was at my door. And I suddenly realized I was bone-tired anyway.

Nadim said, “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning, Zara.”

I fumbled with the panel. The life I’d chosen in the Zone didn’t grant privacy; freedom had its price. I’d gotten used to sleeping in overcrowded dorms or public squats, with people doing whatever all around. I hadn’t really thought about it, but now I realized that privacy felt like isolation. “So you don’t come in here without an invitation, right?”

“No,” he said. “Unless you are in medical distress.”

“Well, you’re officially invited.”

“As long as you’re sure. You can tell me to leave anytime.”

I sat down cross-legged on the mattress, fiddling with a pillow. I left the door open, through some bizarre notion that it made it easier for Nadim to get in and out. “I didn’t want to freak Bea out; she seems to be finding her peace and I don’t want to blow that. But you need to explain some things to me.”

“Such as?”

“Why did you pick me?” I immediately rephrased. “Okay, I know you didn’t pick me. Why are the Elders all of a sudden yanking crims out of rehab?”

He didn’t answer for so long I didn’t think he was going to. I had an impulse to pull the pillow in closer, and instead, I put it down and waited.

Finally, Nadim said, “The Elders began by choosing scholars and mathematicians, and for a while, that was what was needed. But now they think we need different strengths.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know why they picked you, Zara, but you clearly have many qualities that will be of use.”

So now they need tech-savvy and a scrappy attitude? Sure. “I’m a good mechanic, but you could get that anywhere. What else?”

“I can only tell you that when the Elders find there are gaps in our knowledge, in our needs, we seek those that can fill them.” He seemed uncomfortable now. His tone had gone flatter, and the warmth of his presence had dialed down to room temp.

“You want to hear what I think? I think there’s more to this than cultural exchanges and bullshit like that. You’re picking our brains. My question is, why? Why do you need to learn from me?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not hearing a denial, Nadim.”

“I wouldn’t ask my partners to do anything that wasn’t for the greater good.”

“Psht. Maybe in Leviathan speech that plays better, but let me tell you, back on Earth, a ton of humans have murdered for the greater good. And I’m not here for it.”

“I suppose then the question is: Why are you here, Zara? If you don’t believe in the mission of our partnership?”

“Because—” I hesitated, and smoothed the fabric of my uniform over my thigh. There was a scar there, one of many from fights in the Zone. Reminders that safety was an illusion. “Because it’s a way out.”

“Out of what?”

“Everything that shuts me in.”

Nadim was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “I don’t understand that. I don’t think I can. My whole life has been seeking contact, not escape. And I live in . . . a very large space. In that way we are quite opposite.”

“Good. This would get pretty boring if we were all the same.”

I felt that flutter of amusement again, a kind of unfiltered delight that made the pull of artificial gravity feel lighter. Too much of that, and I might lose my own weight. I resisted the lure of feeding his feelings, and the delight faded. Then Nadim said, very seriously, “I can’t tell you what waits out there for us, if that’s what you want to know. We call this year-long voyage the Tour; we take you to predetermined places where you will gather geologic and biologic samples and evidence of defunct civilizations for your scientists to analyze. For us, we chart the regrowth of the destruction and hope to someday witness a civilization rise again. But this route is familiar to us. Safe. I’ve told you before that I’m still in training. I’m not to deviate from our itinerary until I am released for the Journey.”

“Okay. So if all this is preparing you for the Journey, then what happens on the Journey?”

Silence fell, and it seemed heavier than before. Emotional gravity, shifting again. Finally, Nadim said, “The Journey is a mission that lasts a lifetime. And I won’t know what it is until I am ready.”

“So you trust them that much.”

“The Elders would not betray us.”

I didn’t tell him that on Earth, it was our elders who sold us out all the damn time—that the young were sacrificed for whatever cause, whatever war our old leaders thought important at the time. I’d trusted my father, once. I’d ended up pinned to a table, with a crazy woman holding a scalpel.

Trust your elders didn’t cut it with me.

After all, at this point, whatever hurt Nadim would mess me up too—during the Tour, but still. I had to make him realize that trust had to be earned, not just given.

Part of me pretended it was just self-interest, but deep inside, I also had to admit that there was something so unguardedly honest about Nadim that I just . . . wanted him to be safe.