Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(54)

“It’s nonconductive and offers a good amount of protection,” Nadim added.

“Is it bulletproof? Laser resistant? What about—”

“Zara.” Clearly he was ready to move on.

“Fine, I’m putting on my mask.”

It adapted to my curls, shaping to my head naturally. I expected some vision impairment or a sense of claustrophobia, but I could see perfectly, just . . . not with my eyes. It was like there were tiny cameras all over, beaming information to my brain. Freaking disorienting, but after a few turns, I got the hang of insect vision. Gloves, check.

Fortunately, I got ass-kicking boots with weights in the heels instead of stilettos. Once I put those on we were good to go, and Bea had raced through her mission prep and was now bouncing beside the shuttle. I grabbed our gear bag, as we’d also be taking various readings on the surface in addition to visiting Nadim’s so-called sites. Doing the Leviathan’s scientific measurements for their records.

We were going to see alien ruins. If I’d said that six months ago, squatting over a meal of street food in a ruined building in the Zone . . . Well. I’d have either been laughed out of the neighborhood or checked into Benny’s for a psych eval.

“This might be a dumb question. . . .”

“There are no dumb questions, Zara,” Nadim said.

“Really? That’s not what my fifth-grade teacher said.”

The pause told me he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Whatever it is, ask.”

“Are you going with us?”

“I can’t enter the atmosphere. Gravity would crush me, culminating in lethal impact. That’s why we have shuttles, Zara.”

“Shit. No. I mean . . . I want you to see what we’re seeing.” It wouldn’t be the same to try and describe things to him on comms. Besides, I also wanted his company, but I couldn’t just say so.

Bea beckoned to me, eyes shining. “Hurry up!”

I held up one finger, telling her to wait. Nadim still hadn’t responded, which made me think this was a weird request. All the other Honors really did treat him like a thing, huh? It was impossible for me to wrap my head around that because he was so much of a person that I had a hard time focusing on anybody else if I had even a glimmer of his attention.

“That is an unusual request. We can communicate through the shuttle comm. But . . .”

“You know what I’m asking. There’s no way to jury-rig something so you can, ah, come down with us? See what we see?”

After a little more hesitation, he said, “You can attach a remote unit to your skinsuit.”

Bea came over to investigate the holdup, and she helped me with the installation. “This . . . and . . . here we go.”

Half an hour later, presto—Nadim-mobile.

He was weirdly quiet, and I didn’t know why. Bea powered up the Hopper—what I called the frog-like short-flight craft reserved for planetary excursions. Human tech for the interior, Leviathan biotech for the exterior. She’d done better than me in navigation and piloting, and there was always the auto-nav if she got in trouble. Theoretically, we should be fine. Still, a frisson of fear-excitement (fearcitement?) jolted over me.

“Good to go?”

Once she checked all the instruments and we strapped in, she got us in motion, not perfection but smooth enough for her first flight. Nadim opened the hatch; then we were away, swooping out of him and yet still with him. That was the best part.

Finally, he spoke. “I’ve never seen myself before. Not like this.”

“What?”

“The attachment to your skinsuit . . . I can see myself with your eyes.” He expressed a strange mix of delight and horror. I made sure to linger as we flew past. He should get a good look from head to tail.

“Nobody ever did this for you?” I’d suspected.

“No. Both you and Beatriz talk to me more than other Honors. The rest were content to complete their checklists, they never really thought of including me. They never thought to be so . . . interactive. This is unsettling. I’m here . . . and there also.”

“If it feels too weird or distracting . . .” I started.

“It’s just new. I know you will disengage if I ask.”

That much trust did funny things to my stomach. So I just nodded and held on as Bea figured out how to compensate for gravitational pull, lift and thrust, X and Y axes. With some help from the auto-nav, she nailed entry and pulled up just a little rough, so my lunch rolled around but didn’t come up.

“Great job, Bea. You okay?”

“A little shaky. That was a lot of pressure. The only reason I didn’t panic was because I knew we had a fail-safe.”

She set the Hopper down in a field of golden grass. Okay, maybe that was the wrong word since this was tall and frond-y, but it was the closest equivalent I had. The thrusters burned a circle, and I imagined natives venturing out to marvel at the pattern once we took off. Wait, no, Nadim said there’s nobody here, not anymore.

There should be fanfare for a moment like this, flags to plant, but Bea just opened the doors and we popped out. Despite the mask, the filtered air still carried the acrid tang of whatever was making it toxic. I snagged the gear bag and got out my scanner, which told me the exact components of the gas. Methane, hydrogen, right. I could have probably brought along logs that gave statistics on the ranges that were normal for Firstworld. I’d transcribe readings when we got back.