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  I laughed. “Come on.”

  “Ze values your friendship, Zara. Starcurrent didn’t want you to think it wasn’t fun over there aboard Nadim. Ze said you’ve made every effort to make zim feel part of things. But ze doesn’t care for your other excess crew over there, either.”

  Xyll. Of course ze didn’t.

  “We’ve got a ways to go before we’re on speaking terms with Quell and Anderson, and we have to wait until Ophelia gets back anyway. So let’s just leave this on the table for now. Good?”

  Yusuf nodded. “Good.” He smiled at me. He didn’t do that too often, and in it I saw the person he used to be when he was happy, bonded with his beloved ship. “Think we’re going to survive long enough for it to matter?”

  “Us? Absolutely. You and me, we’re survivors, brother.”

  We fist-bumped to agree to that.

  I landed on board Nadim with an overwhelming feeling of relief. I’m home. Things clicked back into place inside me that I hadn’t even realized were dangling and disconnected. And the second the door slid open, Bea hit me like a whirlwind and spun me around in a hug so tight I thought she might break a rib. My ribs held, and my heart seemed to expand inside my chest until it hurt. I’d missed her. I’d missed Nadim, who enveloped us both in his radiance.

  She kissed me with breathless intensity. No hesitation anymore on either of our parts, and the dark-cherry taste of her lips stirred something up inside me that felt wild and reckless. When we parted, she rested her forehead against mine and whispered, “I missed you, querida.” Her words went straight inside me and fluttered like butterflies. “We were so worried. Suncross messaged us that you were all right or we’d have—done something stupid, most likely.”

  “All’s well,” I promised her. “How’s everything here?”

  That got her more into business mode. “Xyll’s being strange,” she said. “I don’t know what’s happening, but at least it hasn’t come busting out of its quarters. I guess . . . no news is good news?”

  I nodded. Best we could do for now. “And Starcurrent?”

  “Is here, Zara!” Starcurrent’s translated voice came through cheerily, and I turned and saw zim undulating zis tentacles at me from farther across the docking bay. “Hello! I have a possible location for Lifekiller, but . . . is uncertain. The Phage swarm has changed directions twice since you left. I cannot be certain it is providing us an accurate fix, but there is a high probability given that one particular planet in its path is rich in uranium.”

  “Anything from the Sliver?” I asked. Bea shook her head. She’d tied her curls back, but little wisps had escaped and bounced around her face with the motion. “Damn. That’s not so good.”

  “Well, they didn’t exactly communicate before,” she said. “It was more of an order than communication. Maybe they don’t need us right now, so they don’t call.” I looked up. “Nadim? Do you know anything?”

  “No,” he said immediately. “Bea is right. There is no way to initiate contact with the Sliver. It is outward only, at least on the communication band that they accessed before. Perhaps the Bruqvisz have insight.”

  Made sense. I called up Suncross and asked. He said he’d investigate their network for any word. Once that immediate question was addressed, I realized that the aftereffect of partying with his crew had left me weak at the knees and in need of solid food. And coffee. So much coffee.

  Bea went with me, pulled pancakes and made more coffee, and it sure was nice being taken care of like that. “I already ate,” she assured me, and created herself a mocha latte. “By the way, we’re down to about six months’ worth of breakfast, but we can stretch that by going to liquid supplements and having breakfast more rarely. Lunch, dinner . . . we’re running on the same clock, and I don’t like skipping more than one meal a day, so . . .”

  “So we’re going to have to explore some options,” I said, “if we can’t get back home to restock. Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that too. We can ask Yusuf. He’s been offworld a while; maybe he’s got some good culinary hookups.”

  Not going to lie, pancakes and syrup and butter and coffee made me go mmm, and I felt Nadim paying close attention to the feelings. He felt pleasure consuming the best frequencies of starlight, but not quite as strongly as I did about my pancakes. I scraped up every bit of the syrup and licked my fork clean and stretched with a happy sigh.

  You enjoyed that, he said. I like it when you find such happiness in things. I can’t quite understand why, but I do understand the how of it.

  Not sure if it’s emotions that release endorphins, or endorphins that unleash emotions, but anyway, it’s a pretty nice biosystem humans got, I told him. Too bad we’re not quite as tough as other species, though.

  You are, he said quite earnestly. Physically soft, yes, but you have a ruthless streak that is rarely seen in others. And the capacity to regulate it, which is even more rare. Value what you are, Zara. I do.

  I enjoyed hearing that as much as eating the pancakes.

  STATIONWIDE ANNOUNCEMENT ON THE SLIVER, RECORDING ENDS ABRUPTLY

  Attention all residents and vendors:

  An alert remains in effect. Please go to your assigned duty stations or shelter in place. All ships awaiting docking procedures must immediately depart or face certain destruction. All Sliver personnel beyond the shield must seek shelter and register location.

  Database backup and transmission in progress

  Call for assistance in progress

  Remain calm

  Remain calm

  Remain

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lost Sliver

  I WASN’T TOO surprised to get an emergency transmission. Any number of swords were hovering above our heads and waiting to drop on us, so it was a little bit of a relief to see there was something coming at us in the form of a call.

  Suncross.

  The Bruqvisz’s face filled the screen, and the second I saw it, I knew it was bad. Not that he was especially expressive, but his crew stood behind him, and they looked downcast. And alarmed.

  “I have news, Zara,” he said, and the fact he used my proper name instead of the nickname put me on immediate edge. “The Sliver is lost.”

  “Lost?” I knew what he meant, but I didn’t want to know. I was hoping that it was a glitch, or a misunderstanding, or any damn thing except what it was. “You mean, uh, moved?”

  “No,” he said. “I mean destroyed utterly and completely.” His ruff came up, and so did the ruffs of his crew. “We mourn those who are gone. We will avenge them.”

  Pinky’s bar was gone. The haggling scavengers. The engineering crew that had refit Nadim with his armor and weapons. I swallowed hard. “What about Bacia?”

  “Unknown, but likely escaped, too cunning to die and too difficult to kill.”

  I thought he was right. Bacia would’ve thrown the rest of the residents of the Sliver to the Phage to cover their retreat; they’d have taken accumulated wealth and anything or anyone valuable to them, but the rest would have been considered acceptable losses. Made me ill, but I understood Bacia pretty well. “The drones?”

  “There’s no trace of functional drones left among the wreckage,” Suncross said. “Our people and the Elaszi are coordinating salvage and recovery efforts. In this, we have common cause.”

  “Uh, we made a deal with the Elaszi. We gave them some of Bacia’s drones. Did . . . did they get hit with the recall? And do they hold that against us?” I could imagine they’d feel like they got taken on that deal. Not my intention, but intentions don’t always matter when it comes to money and honor.

  “Elaszi have accepted that the recall was beyond your control. But they may barter for favors later.”

  That was a sweet relief. But only for a second. “Were there survivors at the Sliver?”

  He shook his head.

  “Only dead,” he said. “We recover remains. Will honor according to the rites of each species. Elaszi are uninterested in this and would harvest bodie
s for minerals; we trade first salvage for this privilege. Bruqvisz will write their stories and recover data that may assist in knowing what battle raged here, and how it was lost. Their stories will be heard.”

  That was surprisingly touching, I thought. And I respected the Bruqvisz for trading away potential profit for common good. Not sure I’d have taken that on, but I was grateful someone had. “Ask your brethren if they can get any data on Bacia,” I said. “Bacia owes us some damn drones if they got out, and we can trade back with the Elaszi to get us out of hot water. If the salvagers aren’t finding any trace of functional drones, maybe Bacia took the rest when they retreated.”

  “Likely,” Suncross said. “Bacia would not spend resources on a lost cause. Will seek to rebuild elsewhere. We will locate.”

  I signed off and looked at Bea, her brown eyes bright with tears. “That’s awful,” she said quietly. “All those beings, just . . . destroyed. By the Phage, right?”

  “Lifekiller,” I said. “He sent the Phage. I’m guessing Bacia had something he wanted, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Probably not uranium; that’s available in quantity in a lot of bigger places.”

  “Samples,” Nadim said. “Starcurrent’s tissue samples might have been what the god-king was looking for. He surely doesn’t wish to have others researching his biology.”

  “But what the hell is he doing?” I wondered aloud.

  It was impossible to tell if the Phage had been given orders. They could have been acting on an earlier suggestion, the same reason they attacked the Sliver when we defended and drove them off the first time. We had a lead on where the god-king might be hunkered down, and I was afraid we’d get there too late, and he’d get ahead of us, wreaking havoc that we couldn’t stop. We’d have more firepower when the cousins returned from Earth, but there was no telling how long it would take for them to catch up. In the meantime, it was up to us to turn the tide.

  Bea lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  She walked me back to my room, and I paused outside. “Is it okay if I take some time with Nadim? I don’t want you to feel cut out, but—”

  “It’s fine. He was pretty shaken when you left, though I kept telling him you had a plan, even if you didn’t explain it to us.”

  I broke eye contact on a vague rush of guilt. “Hey, I’m doing better. Last time I didn’t even warn you before I did something risky.”

  “We appreciate the heads-up,” she teased.

  “Thanks for keeping Nadim calm. I know it’s hard for him when I’m putting it all on the line.”

  Bea touched my cheek gently. “It’s not easy for me either.”

  “I got it. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  She went off down the hall as I slipped into my room. Nadim was quiet, but I could feel his attention on me. Exhausted, I sank down onto the floor and rested my cheek against the wall. That way, I was touching him at two points. Softly, he came to me, filling my head with gentle questions.

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  “Thank you, Zara.”

  “For what?”

  “Coming back to me.”

  “I’m sorry I had to go in the first place, but you understand, right? I had to finish what I started. I didn’t mean for it to blow up like it did, but since Deluca escalated that shit, I couldn’t let anyone else get hurt.”

  Nadim said, “I understand. But I wish you treasured yourself as much as I do. I wish you saw yourself as precious and irreplaceable.”

  That shut me straight up, because I wasn’t used to anyone just saying that about me. It wasn’t that I didn’t see myself as important, but his emotion flooded me, humbling me when I saw myself through his eyes, all shimmering, iridescent colors that filled his world with wonder. I half closed my eyes and flattened my palm against the wall, watching as Nadim traced my fingers, limning each one in light.

  “Okay, point taken.”

  I dropped into a light bond, letting myself enjoy the feel of Nadim keeping me safe. This was more trust than I’d ever given anyone before. If I thought about it, it was wild that I could feel this way when he was damn near everything—my love, my world, my literal home. The fact that Beatriz lived here too only made it sweeter because I had twice as many people caring, looking after me, and scolding me softly when I crossed the line. Funny how their reproaches never set me off. The anger I’d wrestled with on Earth never erupted out here against those I loved. Dr. Yu would be pleased to hear that too.

  “You’re happy,” Nadim said.

  “I shouldn’t be. Not with so much shit poised to hit the fan.”

  “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he told me.

  “What is?”

  “The fact that you can find joy anywhere. I told you when we first met. You remember? I said how bright you are, how beautifully you shine.”

  I let out a little breath because his sweetness was making the top of my head tingle. “You did say that,” I mumbled.

  At the back of my head, knocking against the calm I was trying to assemble, memories of our time on the Sliver shifted like jagged bits of glass, shredding my peace of mind. Nadim gentled me with soothing mental touches, telling me silently that it wasn’t our fault. He understood now what I’d always known—that we couldn’t save everyone—that choices had to be made, but it was like sitting on a chair made of knives, knowing that we’d chosen to let them die. I’d said better crims than civilians, but now that the worst had happened, I thought about the stall where I’d bought the portable force field generator. Did that vendor die in the Phage attack? What about the kindly Abyin Dommas who fought in the Pit, but who couldn’t bring zimself to finish opponents in the final round?

  “Sometimes, I think it would be better if I had arms,” Nadim said, out of nowhere.

  I startled, opening my eyes in surprise. “Why? What are you saying?”

  “When you’re sad, you imagine me hugging you. I cannot ever do that, Zara. Beatriz can. Marko and Yusuf can. Chao-Xing could if she wished. They can make contact in ways that I cannot.”

  Oh damn. Though I hadn’t wished for that in a while, I did recall a few occasions when I’d wanted to hug Nadim. It wasn’t like a deep or heartfelt thing, so it bothered me that he might be thinking that he wasn’t enough. I had to be careful how I replied.

  “I don’t want you to change,” I said firmly. “That . . . it’s just what I’m used to. I’ve adapted since then, and I love how you are, exactly as you are. You don’t need to alter a single thing for me to think you’re wonderful.”

  “You wouldn’t want . . .” Nadim spoke softly and paused, as if he was afraid to finish the sentence.

  “What, sweetheart?”

  “A representative form could be built. It could carry me, as you do.”

  “Are you talking about getting an android body, just so we could interact more like humans do?”

  “It might—”

  “No thanks,” I cut in. “I don’t want or need that. Our hearts and minds can touch. And you can feel the physical stuff that I do with Bea, so you’re a part of it that way. Do you feel like what we have isn’t enough?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “What brought this on?”

  “You have . . . certain memories of the offensive one.”

  I noticed he didn’t even want to say Derry’s name, and I didn’t blame him. Derry was my past, and now he wasn’t even alive, not somebody Nadim needed to worry about measuring up to. Hell, Nadim taught me how love should be—warm and open, honest and tolerant, with room for people to grow. Derry was like a pair of shoes I’d worn for a while and then outgrown, before he went to work for a monster and came back gunning for me.

  “Put him out of your mind. I won’t be dwelling on him anymore. I didn’t want him dead, but I’m not sorry it went down like it did. He made the choices that narrowed the options down to him or me.” I hesitated, wondering if Nadim would think less of me for admittin
g this.

  “What is it, Zara?” Nothing but tender curiosity in his tone.

  “There’s some irony that the robot Deluca designed to murder me took out his minion instead. Looks like I owe EMITU another big one. Do you think he’d take a haiku in payment?”

  I was joking, but Nadim took the question seriously. “Possibly. Should we write one?”

  “Maybe later. My brain needs a rest. My body too.” There was one thing I hadn’t done since I came on board—and I might want to do it with Bea at some point—but I wasn’t quite there yet. And I hadn’t dared let Nadim find out that I did it either. Normal for everyone and the safest way to let off some steam but I felt weird about sharing it with Nadim and weird about asking for privacy too.

  “Are you tired?” Nadim asked.

  Well, yeah, but I was also keyed up. Two things could knock me out when I was like this: exercise or sex.

  Hell with it. He probably knows what humans are like. I’m sure some Honors have asked him to step out before. A year is a long time. I made up my mind as I got in bed. There was nothing wrong with this, no reason to hide it from Nadim. I’d do that only if I was ashamed, and I wasn’t.

  I turned over on my stomach in my favorite position and drifted into a soft bond with Nadim, letting pleasure suck me in, physical and mental. It didn’t take long to get there, shivers rolling through me, and his warmth in my head made it feel like he was holding me close afterward.

  “That was beautiful,” he said, and I felt his wonder wash over me like afterglow. “Like starlight. Like flying.”

  “You’re such a sweet talker.” I couldn’t stop smiling. Finally, I slept.

  “Wake up.” A soft voice was whispering right against my ear. I groaned and rolled over to find Bea leaning above me. Lazily I sat up, and she greeted me with a sweet kiss, one at the edge of my mouth, another on my cheek. “I wasn’t going to bother you, but something’s happening with Xyll. Oh, and Chao-Xing is arriving in five minutes. I called her first so as not to wake you, but Xyll doesn’t want to talk to Chao-Xing. It’s asking for you nonstop. It’s in pain and I think it might be . . . dying.”