Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(53)

“What’s it like down there? Hot? Cold? What about—”

“I’ve put climate data on your H2s, as well as historical information, and visual records that will help you understand the context of what you’re examining. We have a record of what it looked like when the Biiyan were still here.”

Bea eagerly grabbed the H2 and began scrolling. “What happened to them?”

Nadim chose not to answer that. I picked up my own H2 and searched for a hint. Nothing.

Whatever ended these Biiyan, I thought, it seemed like Nadim didn’t want to discuss it. That was . . . unsettling. “Nadim? Did the Leviathan kill them?”

“No!” That was the sharpest tone I’d ever heard him use, and the pulse of emotion that accompanied it was very clear. Outrage. Disappointment that I’d even think of it. “Of course we didn’t.”

“Then why won’t you say what did?”

“Because—” He was quiet for a moment, and I felt him struggling against his own better judgment. I’d done that a time or two or thousand. But, like I always did, he surrendered. “Because they were wiped out in a war of their own making, one we couldn’t stop. We tried to convince them not to enter into it, but . . . they didn’t listen. And we lost them. It’s a difficult thing for us. A failure.”

I mumbled, “Sorry,” and let it go. Then, as if it was an afterthought (it wasn’t): “Just for clarification . . . what kind of weapons in the weapons locker?”

Nadim sighed. “Fine, Zara. I’ll give you the code.”

He rattled off a series of letters and numbers, so fast that he probably thought I wouldn’t catch them. But I hit record on my H2 the second he said code. There was a smug amusement in his tone when he added, “Did you get that?”

“Damn right.” I was grinning when I hit play.

Holding the unit overhead like a trophy, I swaggered to the armory and played the file. The lock disengaged with a satisfying hiss, and I dug in, pulling out various weapons. Some were standard ballistic guns, others looked more bizarre, and the rest I couldn’t figure out at all, despite turning them over in my hands, inspecting them from all angles.

“You have no idea what that is,” he observed.

“Seriously, how is this a weapon?” “This” was a perfect black cube with no switch I could detect, no pressure plates, no barrel. It looked like plastic, but felt heavier and more durable to the touch. I’d never encountered anything like it, but the sinister heft in my palm sent a wicked chill through me.

“You don’t know?” His tone was grave. “Then put that back. You should only use it if we’re threatened by something worse than death.”

Eyes wide, I set the object back in the locker. “Seriously?”

Nadim laughed. His delight ran down my spine in liquid trills. “That’s just a weight. Sometimes you need ballast on low-gravity worlds to keep your other gear from floating away.”

“I see how you are,” I said. “Messing with the new girl.”

“You don’t like it?”

Truthfully? I did.

My first view of Firstworld came at 3:17 a.m. Iceland time, though out here, there was probably no point in keeping track by that standard anymore. Nadim called me portside and in teasing increments opened the viewscreen. The relatively monochromatic hues of our local planets hadn’t prepared me for the vibrant colors that swirled together on this planet like a sand painting. Violet, brown, deep green, and cerulean, all discernible from this distance, so it must be incredible on the ground.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

“You’ll need to wear scrubbers, as the atmosphere is mildly toxic to humans. And the vegetation grows on ultraviolet rays, hence the difference in coloration.”

“Can we lose the lecture mode?” Teasing Nadim already came natural, but I was too enthralled to soak up all the information. I just wanted to gear up and get down there.

“Proceed to the docking bay,” Nadim said. “I’m in stable orbit.”

Bea met me there, vibrating with equal measures of nerves and excitement. She was already dressed, and she handed me the mission suit, much thinner and more formfitting than the old days. The fabric reminded me of a dolphin’s skin, hard to describe, but I’d touched one at an aquarium over ten years ago. The suit’s color was dark blue, nearly cobalt, but when I touched it, my fingers reacted with the surface, resulting in a kind of starfish ray effect. Startled, I almost dropped it.

She laughed. “Isn’t it fascinating? It seems to be biosensitive, though I’m not sure if it’s the heat or electromagnetic stimuli.”

“Both,” Nadim answered. “It can also blend with its surroundings, detect radiation, and the mask will purify the air so you can breathe it.”

“Does it go over our clothes?”

“It’s a skinsuit.” That answer came from Bea.

Giving her a thumbs-up, because obviously she’d memorized all the manuals on our reading list that I’d ignored in favor of time in the combat sim, I stripped without a second of hesitation. No lie, it felt a little creepy as I pulled what amounted to a second skin over mine; it seemed to melt around me, for lack of a better description, until it fit to perfection. No denying that it felt like walking around naked, though, and that was both weird and strangely wonderful.