Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(29)

“Nothing for Auri, I’m afraid,” she says.

“I already got my gift,” Auri replies simply.

“… You did?” Tyler asks.

“Yeah. You guys.”

She gazes around at Squad 312 and makes a face.

“Holy cake, that sounded unbearably cheesy, didn’t it?”

“Unforgivably,” Scar grins, dropping the cred chips onto the console. “But except for the papers directing us to the ship and the passkeys, this is everything.”

“At least we will not be lacking in funds,” Kal nods.

“This is not a credit chip,” Zila says, retrieving a chip bearing a turquoise stripe from under the red and gold. She passes it to me, as I’m sitting in front of a data slot.

I pause for a moment, because I have a policy of never putting a chip a stranger gives me into my equipment, unless, you know, that whole sentence is a metaphor. But if our benefactors wanted to drop us in it, they’ve already had their chance and then some. So, with a wince, I push it home.

The main screen above us flickers to life, and we’re greeted by Admiral Adams and Battle Leader de Stoy. They’re in full dress uniform, the sigil of the Aurora Legion emblazoned on their shoulders. Adams raises one cybernetic hand in greeting, and de Stoy favors the camera with a small nod, her black eyes unreadable even to another Betraskan.

“Greetings, legionnaires,” Adams says gravely. “First, well done on deciphering our code. Battle Leader de Stoy and I regret we can’t be there to brief you personally, but if you are watching this message, it’s our hope that you’re aboard the Zero and headed for the Hephaestus convoy.”

He pauses, which is helpful, as it leaves room for a collective “Whaaaaat?”

Before the creeped-out disbelief from all around the table gets too out of hand, de Stoy picks up the narrative.

“This will doubtlessly be strange to all of you, legionnaires. We know you must have many burning questions. Unfortunately, and for reasons that will one day become clear, there is still much about your situation we cannot reveal. We are sorry for the trials you will face as a result, but you must know this much at least.” She looks around the bridge, as if she can actually see us all. “Our every effort is bent toward supporting you. We know you have taken up the cause of the Eshvaren. And we know you are our last hope against the Ra’haam.”

“We can’t declare our support publicly,” Adams continues. “In fact, Aurora Legion must be seen to be actively working against you. The Ra’haam has agents within the Global Intelligence Agency, and potentially other stellar governments.”

My gaze flicks over to Auri, whose face is like stone. I know that like me, she’s picturing her father in the white GIA uniform of Princeps, calling out to her, entreating her to join the Ra’haam.

“Take these gifts,” Adams continues. “Keep them with you at all times. And know that you’re traveling on the correct path.”

“Know that we believe in you,” de Stoy says. “And you must believe in each other. We the Legion. We the light. Burning bright against the night.”

Adams stares straight down the camera and repeats the words he spoke to us when we left Aurora Academy, ignorant of everything that lay ahead of us.

“You must believe,” he says simply.

And just like that, the message ends.

We’re all quiet for a long moment. Trying to process what’s just happened. My thoughts are running light-years per second, the full enormity of it all ringing in my brain and threatening to blow it right out of my skull.

Our commanders know about the Eshvaren. They know about the Ra’haam. They know what we’re up against, and somehow, some way, impossible as it might seem, they knew what was coming—finding Auri, losing Cat, our new careers as interstellar fugitives—before any of it ever happened. This message waited for us in the security vault for years before any of us ever even entered Aurora Academy. Let alone became legionnaires.

Auri’s the one who finally breaks the silence. “I don’t know your bosses well, but if they knew this was coming, a little heads-up would’ve been good.”

Scarlett looks at Shamrock, sitting above the empty pilot’s chair. All the color has gone out of her features, and her voice. “You can say that again.”

Kal reaches across to tentatively take Auri’s hand. “Have faith, be’shmai. Adams and de Stoy have worked for the best thus far. We must believe that in keeping what they know from us, they continue to do so.”

Of course, this is right up a Syldrathi’s alley—full of mystery and almost prophecy. No wonder Kal’s eating it up. But I see Tyler looking across at me, pinning me down with those big blue eyes of his.

“We must believe,” he says softly.

We’re the only two religious people on the ship, Tyler and I, and I know he feels the same way I do—that the Maker’s hand is in this somehow. It’s Tyler’s faith that Adams is appealing to when he says those words. But it’s so achingly hard to keep believing when it’s cost us so much already. When people we care about think we’re traitors. When we’re fighting to save a galaxy and it seems the whole galaxy is fighting against us.

When that pilot’s chair is empty.

“Well,” says Scarlett, deliberately cheerful. “Upside: we know we’re definitely heading in the right direction.”