Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(25)

“What did they shoot her with?” she demands, staring at the lifeless bands.

“Saedii’s weapon of choice,” Kal says. His face is grim, his eyes full of fury as he cradles Auri’s head. “An agonizer.”

“A what now?”

“A Syldrathi weapon,” I offer, remembering my mechaneering classes at the academy. “The bands hook into your neural network, overload your nervous system. It’s kinda like a disruptor on Pacification setting, but waaaaay more painful.”

“Is she gonna be okay?” Scarlett asks.

“She’s just stunned,” I say a moment later, holding up the med-scanner. “No permanent damage. I’m guessing the Unbroken didn’t want her slamming them with her brain magic again. Quick learners.”

“Aurora?” Kal asks, gently stroking Auri’s cheek. “Can you hear me?”

“K-Kal?” she whispers.

Pixieboy sighs with relief, the muscles in his jaw relaxing. “Yes, be’shmai?”

“Your ssister is a real bitch… .”

The joke has us grinning, despite the trouble we’re in. But Zila’s voice from the driver’s seat kills our smiles real quick.

“I do not mean to interrupt,” she says. “But we are being pursued.”

“By?” Kal asks, lifting his head.

“Skeff Tannigut and her associates, the Unbroken, Dominion Repository security, Emerald City law enforcement, and the officers who were formerly in charge of this airvan.”

“Yay?” I offer.

“Do we have a destination?” Zila asks.

Scarlett fishes around in her corset (Eyes forward, de Seel, eyes forward) and brandishes a passkey. “There’s a ship waiting for us at Gamma Promenade.”

Her brother twists around in his seat to gape at her. “What?”

“You won’t believe what we found in the Repository,” Scarlett tells him. “But for now, there’s a ship waiting, and we need a ride out of here.”

“Gamma Promenade it is,” Tyler says, turning back to the road ahead. “But we can’t lead them all there. We need to lose our tail.”

I know that in this moment, I’m not the only one who thinks of Zero. That girl could drive anything you can imagine, steer it through the eye of a needle with one hand tied behind her back. The pang hits me like a punch.

I was such a dick to her. Did she take it seriously? Did she understand I’m just terrible at sincerity?

Instead of Zero, we have Goldenboy and Zila in the front of the airvan. Ty’s a decent pilot, but until today, I didn’t even know Zila could drive. And I’m wondering if Ty should be the one on the stick when she narrows her eyes, looking straight ahead.

“Lose our tail,” she nods. “Understood.”

Ty raises one scarred eyebrow. “Zila?”

“Squad,” she says calmly, “please secure your safety harnesses.”

· · · · ·

The airvan screeches into Gamma Promenade in a spray of sparks, the turbines screaming like Rigellian opera singers. Choking black fumes are pouring out of the engine bay, several traffic cones are embedded in our ventilation intakes, and we’re trailing a large smoking banner that reads HAPPY 50TH LIFEDAY, FRUMPLE in Chellerian. Tyler twists around to check we’re all intact, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen our fearless leader so wild around the eyes.

“Maker’s breath, Zila,” he mutters.

“A formidable performance,” Kal agrees, deeply respectful.

Auri groans from her chair, lolling against her harness. “You should design roller coasters.”

The engine gives one last desperate cough, sputters, and dies. Zila reaches for the release just as the whole door falls off with a crash. Everyone sits where they are for a long moment, savoring the sensation of being alive. Or in my case, reviewing some of the rash promises made to my Maker over the last quarter hour, in return for my survival.

“We should proceed with all due haste,” Zila says, staring at us expectantly. “They will easily be able to follow our trail.”

“We did leave a little debris,” Scarlett agrees.

One by one we come to life, climbing out of our poor getaway vehicle, staggering for balance. I try not to wince at the pain as my feet hit the deck. It turns out the Gamma docks are Emerald City’s long-term berthing area—many of the ships around us are secured for an extended stay. Our own berth is farther along, but the airvan isn’t moving another meter, so we’re on foot.

I’m nearly as unsteady on my feet as Auri, but I stumble after the others toward Berth 9, counting the ships and mentally weighing each one. That one would be okay, that one would be good, that one would be amazing… .

I see it a couple of ships out, and I involuntarily slow, my eyes locked on the … thing that’s waiting for us. I count again, just in case I’m wrong. As we come to a halt in front of it, I look down at the number stenciled on the ground at our feet.

9[a].

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Tyler whispers.

“We should have gone with the sewage hauler,” Scarlett replies quietly. “At least it didn’t look like it was made of crap.”

The rust bucket in front of us is a little larger than our old Longbow, and it brings a new meaning to butt-ugly. It looks like someone ripped apart six or seven other vessels, trawled through the wreckage to find all the least attractive parts, then welded them together. It was once painted red, but it’s now completely covered in rust, the bulbous cockpit window almost opaque with dirt, black streaks running down its flanks from every bolt and rivet. It’s like someone who hated speed, efficiency, and style sat down to draw up their dream ship. And then had a really good day at the office.