Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(94)

I worried when you sang to Typhon, he said, and it felt sudden, like he’d been compelled to get it out.

Why?

Because you might . . . He didn’t finish the thought. I understood, though.

You thought I might like him better? Come on. Typhon’s a monster.

But you felt sorry for him. I know that too.

I had. I’d been forced to reach out to him, to understand him. I’m not going to leave you, I told Nadim. Not ever.

I felt his relief, and I moved to set up the next unit in rote motion: drill, drill, bolt, bolt, clamp, power on. Nadim was right: I had felt something. I’d exploited Typhon’s loneliness, used his private sorrow against him. But I didn’t let remorse linger long. That asshole wanted to kill Nadim, who I’d protect to my dying breath. The thought drifted through Nadim, and he purred, a low vibrato that I felt through the soles of my feet, even past the skinsuit, and deep at the base of my spine. To this, I had no coherent response, only visceral emotion that streamed to him and back again in a feedback loop so exquisite it left me dizzy. Not the best state when working in zero gravity on a ship’s hull. I squatted to ground myself and tried to be stern. Remember when you asked Bea, What is seduce? It’s exactly what you’re doing right now.

You did that to Typhon.

Hard to tell if he was teasing me. I thought so. There was a thread of humor, undercut by a layer of wildness that hinted he wasn’t quite as gentle and understanding as he wished. Maybe all Leviathan had some of that cold brutality, held in reserve. Maybe Leviathan and humans had that in common. But the moment passed as he quieted, becoming a gentle hum in the back of my head.

For hours more, I progressed along the hull, until I just couldn’t continue any longer. Part of that was exhaustion, but more to the point, I had no more parts. Continuing would require me to go inside, load up the dolley, and make another trip. I didn’t have the fortitude today. We have time, right? But Nadim didn’t answer, so he must be feeling the pressure too.

Bea was waiting when I stumbled through the hatch. She helped me out of the skinsuit and handed me a flask of water. “You’re bent, you know that? Nobody meant for you to work nonstop, no breaks, no meals.”

“I don’t know, I guess I feel like we’re on the clock . . . and it’s winding down.”

While life might shake out to rose petals and moonlight for everybody else, I pretty much had a road paved with C-4. Usually, when stuff seemed to be going well, that was when everything went to shit. Like me scoring the sweet bag off Torian Deluca’s daughter. Sure, it had all looked good upfront; then Conde’s shop had exploded, and that was right about where I stood. Waiting for the big boom.

Possibly I’d developed a bad case of paranoia. I hope it’s that. Still, I couldn’t help asking Bea, “We’re shielded here, right?”

Her tone was patient. “As much as we can be. Per my readings, Nadim’s signature is masked to long-range sensors. Obviously if another Leviathan stumbles across us, we’re screwed. But what are the odds when space is this vast?”

I really wished she hadn’t said that. In vids, whenever someone asked, “How could it get worse?” all hell would immediately break loose. But Bea continued eating calmly and nothing broke down, no alarms went off.

Maybe I just needed to relax.

Food and sleep helped a little, then I went back out to work on the shield. For almost a week, Iceland time, Nadim drifted and concealed himself while I installed the rest of the shielding. My knees and shoulders were sore as hell. Probably an actual work crew could’ve done this in a day.

I was almost done when it went wrong. I was tired, rushing with the end in sight, and I lost hold of the dolley. It drifted, and hell, I leapt for it, thinking only of losing the last of our spare parts, except I had no plan for getting back.

The skinsuit didn’t have propulsion. Neither did the dolley, really, just little hover jets and no guidance at all. Pure visceral terror slammed through me as the umbilical stretched. If it snapped, I’d choke and die. How long do I have, again? And I still had three units to install, dammit. It added insult to injury that I might bite it without finishing what I’d started. The shield would protect Bea and Nadim, even if I couldn’t. Panic beat me about the head and neck, just like a rich old lady whose purse I’d tried to lift once; she was sprier than she’d looked.

Lock it down. Don’t let—

Zara?

Too late. Nadim was stirring.

“Nadim, stop moving!” I said out loud. “I can do this.” Maybe. In thirty seconds, I’d be testing the limits of my tether.

Zara! This time worried, more emphatic.

I’m fine. With prejudice, I slammed a mental shield between us. Nadim had a short fuse where I was concerned, and it wouldn’t help if he started freaking out, adding his fear to mine.

Think fast. What would Beatriz do?

The first answer was, be more careful. Then I had it. Quickly I checked the straps on the remaining supplies and angled the dolley—no gravity, no problem—so that the jets were facing away from Nadim. I hit the button and they fired; I jerked forward, like it was a vertical surfboard. Not enough, but I was closer, and it kept me and the dolley together. Short, controlled bursts. Easy now. Easy. The last time I hit it, I was so close I could practically touch him. Once more . . . and—

I’m home.