Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(4)

Scar is rising to leave and Tannigut is reaching out to stop her when the commotion starts at the bar. I look toward the noise to see what the fuss is, notice that the various jetball games and stock reports on the displays have been interrupted by a special news feed.

My stomach flips as I read the message at the bottom of the screens.

AURORA LEGION TERROR ATTACK

A big Terran asks the barkeeper to turn it up. A bigger Chellerian bellows to put the game back on. As a small fistfight breaks out, the barkeep drops the volume on the deepdub, cranks the news feed through the pub’s speakers.

“… over seven thousand Syldrathi refugees were killed in the attack, with the Terran and Betraskan governments both expressing outrage at the massacre …”

My heart drops and thumps in my chest as I watch the accompanying footage. It shows the gunmetal-gray blisters of an ore-processing rig nestled on the flank of a massive asteroid, floating in a sea of stars.

I recognize the structure immediately. It’s Sagan Station—the mining rig our squad was sent to on its first mission away from Aurora Academy. We were captured by a Terran destroyer there, held captive by the GIA. They obliterated Sagan to silence any witnesses who might have seen them taking Auri into custody. There’s nothing left of that place but debris now.

Hard to believe that was just a few days ago …

As I watch, a ship swoops in and fires a barrage of missiles, immolating the station. But as the footage freezes on the attacking vessel, I realize it’s not the lumbering, snub-nosed hulk of a Terran destroyer firing the kill shot. The attacking ship is arrowhead-shaped, gleaming titanium and carbite, the Aurora Legion sigil and its squad designation emblazoned down its flanks.





312.


“Great Maker …”

I glance at Scarlett. The voice-over rises above the worsening bar brawl.

“The perpetrators of the Sagan massacre are also wanted in connection with breach of Galactic Interdiction while being pursued by Terran forces. The joint commander of Aurora Legion, Admiral Seph Adams, released the following statement just moments ago… .”

The footage cuts to the familiar figure of Admiral Adams, our Aurora Legion CO, decked out in full dress uniform. Dozens of medals gleam across his broad chest. His cybernetic arms are folded, his expression grim. He taps one prosthetic finger on his forearm as he speaks, metal ringing softly on metal.

“We condemn,” he says, “in strongest possible terms, the actions of Aurora Legion Squad 312 at Sagan Station. We cannot explain their motives, save to say that this squad has clearly gone rogue. They have violated our trust. They have broken our code. Aurora Legion Command offers every assistance to the Terran government in its pursuit of these murderers, and our thoughts and prayers are with the families of the slain refugees.”

Photographs flash up on the screen. The faces and names of my crew.

Finian de Karran de Seel.

Zila Madran.

Catherine Brannock.

Kaliis Idraban Gilwraeth.

Scarlett Jones.

Tyler Jones.

Under each of our names scroll more words.

WANTED. REWARD OFFERED: 100,000CR

And it’s about then that my stomach feels ready to crawl right out of my mouth.

I glance at my sister wordlessly. We need to move. Scar’s already snatching her uniglass off the table when Tannigut’s claws sink into her wrist.

“On second thought”—the gremp smiles with pointed teeth—“a hundred thousand credits does sound like a bargain.”

Scarlett looks to me. I’ve always said it’s funny being a twin. Sometimes I feel like I know what my sister will say before she says it. Sometimes I swear she can tell what I’m thinking just by looking at me. And right now, I’m thinking we need to get all the way out of this stinking bar and off this stinking station.

Like, yesterday.

Scarlett slams the heel of her palm into Tannigut’s nose. She’s rewarded with a loud crunch and a shriek of pain, a gout of deep magenta. I grab my sister’s bloody hand and drag her out of the booth as the other gremps howl and leap at us.

The brawl over the remote control at the other end of the bar is now in full swing, and I figure a little more chaos isn’t going to hurt. So I blast a gremp in the face with my disruptor, knock another’s fangs out of its head with my boot, push Scar toward the door.

“Go! Go!”

Someone screams. A barfly goes sailing into the wall above my head. Three gremps jump on me, clawing and biting. I kick and blast them free, roll across the floor and up to my feet, burst out the front door behind my sister and into the labyrinth of streets that make up the Emerald City.

The station covers eighty levels, a hundred kilometers wide. The lower levels are taken up by an inverted forest of wind turbines, which harnesses the immense storm currents below and turns them into energy. The city is interconnected by a huge lattice of transparent public transit tubes, powered by those same currents. And it’s into one of these tubes that my sister and I leap face-first.

“Grand bazaar!” Scarlett shouts, “COMPLYING,” the computer beeps, and before I can blink, we’re being whipped along the tube on a cushion of ionized oxygen.

“Fin? You reading me?” I shout over the rushing current.

“Um, yeah,” comes the response. “You catch the news, Goldenboy? That was not a flattering photo of me.”