Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(119)

Another impact strikes the ship. Thunderous. Running through the metal beneath us. Saedii’s eyes find mine, lit with triumph.

“There,” she smiles.

I frown up at her, mind racing. “That sounded like a—”

“Syldrathi pulse cannon.” She presses her tongue to one sharpened canine. “They are here.”

“ALERT,” cries the shipboard PA, as if on cue. The distant wail of a siren pierces the dark. “ALERT. ALL HANDS, BATTLE STATIONS.”

I blink. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“My lieutenant Erien, I imagine,” Saedii replies. “My Paladins. Whatever remained of my adepts. It would be death for them to return to my father without me. I expect they have been tracking us through the Fold since the battle on Andarael.”

“REPEAT: ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS,” the PA shouts. “SYLDRATHI VESSEL INBOUND. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”

I frown at the girl atop me. “… You knew they’d come?”

“I suspected.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I did not trust you, Tyler Jones,” she scowls. “I still do not trust you. You are Terran. The son of Jericho Jones, our great enemy. Our peoples are at war.”

“Our peoples?” I reply. “You just told me I’m half-Syldrathi, Saedii. My people are your people.”

She pauses at that. Violet eyes searching mine.

“Perhaps,” she says.

Goose bumps rise on my skin as Saedii presses her fingertips to my chest, light as feathers. Another blast rocks the ship, more alerts begin screaming, and I wince as her fingernail scratches my skin.

“What blood truly burns in these veins of yours, I wonder?”

“If we don’t get off this ship soon,” I tell her, “you’ll be able to examine my blood up close and personal. Because it’s going to be splattered all over the floor.”

Her smile comes slowly.

“Mmm.”

Another blast rocks the ship as Saedii slides off me, twists into a crouch, and grabs for the stolen tac suit pieces, now jumbled together. I take a deep breath, then pull myself up and separate out the gear I need as the sirens continue to wail. I peek at her once while we get dressed, only to discover that Saedii is already watching me. Both of us immediately look away.

In a few minutes we’re geared up, fully armed, and encased in TDF tac armor, faces hidden behind our helmets.

“From the sound of those weapon impacts,” Saedii says, her head tilted, “the ship attacking us has four to six pulse cannon batteries.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “It’s Eidolon-class at least. A capital ship.”

“In a battle this size, the chaos will be our friend. If we can get to the escape pods, I can set the communications unit to transmit on Unbroken emergency frequencies. With fortune, my crew should be able to retrieve us.”

“Unless the TDF blasts our pods to pieces,” I say.

Saedii shrugs. “Warrior or worm, Tyler Jones?”

I heft the fallen marine’s disruptor rifle, set it to Stun.

“Let’s get moving.”





37

SCARLETT

The battle raging across our holo displays is the most insane thing I’ve ever been part of in my life. And I say that having once schmoozed my way through six layers of security goons to crash the launch party of multiplatinum interstellar rock band the Envied Dead, an escapade involving twelve cases of Larassian semptar, skinny-dipping on a volcanic planet, sixty-one arrests, and a brief romantic train wreck. (N1kk1 Gunzz. Ex-boyfriend #34. Pros: Rock star. Cons: Drummer.) The dark all around us is just swarming with ships: Syldrathi, Terran, Betraskan. Pulse cannon blasts and railgun fire, missiles snaking through the dark, explosions bursting silently across that big empty. Tens of thousands of people fighting and killing and dying. And I’ve never been so scared in all my life.

“Look out!” Finian roars.

“Please lower your voice,” Zila says, twisting her flight controls. “Increased volume does not equate to increased piloting aptitude.”

“Well, pardon me all to—”

“Finian, shut up!” I shout.

Zila is hunched over her pilot’s console, her fingers moving in a blur. Fin and I are behind her, sitting side by side at the auxiliary stations, with holo displays of the ongoing battle floating above our consoles. Our ship is flying close to the Weapon, far back from the bloody, shooty outer periphery of the battle, but to be honest, it’s a miracle we’re still flying at all. The air is swarming with fighters, and Zila’s flying on the defensive, not shooting back at anyone who opens up on us, hoping the thousands of ships out there will be more interested in killing something that looks remotely dangerous. But our luck is gonna run out sooner or later.

The Weapon sort of … flickers. It’s done that once or twice now, and none of us are sure why. It’s like a flashlight in the dark, like a crystal heart beating amid the carnage. And the carnage is getting worse.

“You think Auri is okay in there?” Finian whispers, gazing at it.

“I hope so,” I sigh.

“Please fasten your safety harnesses,” Zila says.

“Are you joking?” Fin scoffs, glancing at her sidelong. “Zila, if my harness were on any tighter, I’d be married to—”