Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(41)
“Yeah, I’m colorful as shit. Nadim?”
“Yes?”
“Get out of my room.”
The shower was phenomenal, better if I didn’t think too hard about the filtration system. My Honors haircut hadn’t grown out, so I freshened my curls with some leave-in conditioner and finishing oil. The WHSC had stocked the stores up with everything I’d need for the year, so I didn’t even need to skimp to make it stretch. I moisturized my brown skin too, no getting ashy in space; the lotion was perfect, and it made my skin feel like it was sighing in relief. Finally, with a faint flicker of pride, I dressed in my uniform and met Bea for breakfast. For her, a double espresso, and I made a bowl of oatmeal.
As we ate, we compared lists. I was supposed to learn how to accurately chart a course using the data interface by the end of the day, with various goals to measure my progress. The prospect was daunting.
“Do you feel prepared?” I asked Bea. Because hers had something to do with attending to some experiments that were going to be underway during our journey, courtesy of various Earth labs and scientists. It all looked very complicated.
Her laugh came out tinged with panic. “Not remotely.”
“We got this.” It was becoming second nature to reassure her, and I didn’t hate the feeling when she smiled and offered me a fist bump on her way out. I didn’t understand it. I’m not a trusting person. So what, she could sing, she was nice, she made a good cup of coffee. I wasn’t used to sharing my space with anyone I didn’t know well. What was making me befriend her? I kept coming back to Clarice. When I turned my back on Bea, was she going to slip a cord over my head?
Why would she? some calmer part of my brain asked me. She’s got no beef with you. Just be normal for a while.
Normal. Sure. Or maybe this wasn’t normal at all. I could feel Nadim’s moods. Maybe that closeness was bringing down defenses I’d spent years building, brick by brick. Got to fight to keep your distance, Z. If you let him in any more, you’ll have no defense at all. Because why would I trust an alien? A ship who could get in my head, mess with my moods? One who could, if he got really angry, blow me out into space? I depended on him for air and water and food. That was one hell of a lot of trust to ask me to give.
So I made it a mission to ignore Nadim for the day. Completely. I threw myself into the data console like it was a game I was determined to win. I was crap at 3D math, but I was good at visualization, at least. It took me four hours to develop the ability to see the course in 3D space, and then another two to figure out how to enter all the coordinates.
Then levels of difficulty started up. First, varying gravitational influences from close-in stars. Then a hidden black hole. Then fuel warnings; Nadim wasn’t infinitely powered, he needed regular infusions of starlight to be able to keep moving. He had to keep his courses close enough to star systems to angle his solar sails and catch the energy, or he’d go dark, like he’d shown me in the video. So plotting courses wasn’t as simple as getting from one spot to another. It was more like tacking with the wind on an ocean, judging just how far your food and water would take you.
The last level of simulations put us through a meteor field, and I couldn’t keep the images out of my head of the Russian girl on the bridge, of the fog, the choking coughs, the blood. The whispering, silky rope of air fraying away into space, and Nadim waking up somewhere injured and alone with his dead.
I couldn’t get the sim right. I tried and tried, pushed myself until it was clear I wasn’t going to get it right, and then I shoved back from the console and let out a frustrated yell. I wanted to punch a wall, not Nadim. So I hit the metal side of the console, which hurt me a lot more.
After a long, panting silence, Nadim said, quietly, “Your heart rate is quite elevated, Zara. Do you need help? Shall I get Beatriz?”
“No,” I snapped. “Leave me alone.”
I grabbed the H2 and checked to see what was next. One level I hadn’t conquered wouldn’t matter much, I hoped. I was scheduled for a tour of the medical facilities, which were mostly automated and featured a doc bot that could be activated for emergencies. When I went in, Beatriz was coming out, wearing a mischievous grin. I didn’t ask what that was about, just worked my way through the entire rotation, making sure I knew where every drug was kept, every medical instrument. I didn’t activate the doc bot. I remembered how they worked from med clinics in Paradise, and my hand wasn’t that bad. I was used to punching things.
I joined Beatriz for dinner, and she first proposed we watch a holo. Afterward, we played a combat sim game. Once I’d soundly beaten her two out of three rounds in the sim, I said I was tired and went to my quarters.
I’d just opened the door when Nadim said, “What am I doing wrong, Zara?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Look. Just let me be, okay?”
The pain I caused him wasn’t something he intended to share. I could tell, because it was just a brush, a whisper, quickly gone. But it was breathtaking.
I stopped on my way into the room. I didn’t apologize, because I couldn’t; I just put my hand slowly out and touched the wall. “Nadim . . . I feel like you—this—is changing me,” I told him. “Making me forget to be who I am.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m not friendly. I’m not trusting. I don’t like people.”