Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(42)

“Ninety seconds,” I tell him, mentally urging the data to move faster. Because that’s always worked.

“We will be ready for retrieval in two minutes,” Kal advises.

Tyler’s voice breaks in. “Roger that, we can—oh, Maker’s breath …”

I’m about to ask him to elaborate on that as well, but the sound of Kal cursing softly in Syldrathi draws my attention to the monitor array. Through our tug’s forward viewscreen, we have an unencumbered shot of half a dozen lean, razor-sharp fighter ships speeding in to say hello. They’re shaped for stealth, and my heart drops to my boots as I watch one of them casually execute a strafing run that leaves three security fighters in ruins, debris tumbling slowly out into the black.

More of the newcomers begin to engage, missile and pulse fire lighting up the darkness. Within moments, the Hephaestus security ships that Tyler’s been playing hide-and-seek with all this time are being simply annihilated.

“Kal,” I whisper. “Are those ships … ?”

“Syldrathi,” he replies, his voice subzero.

“But they’re just interceptors,” I protest. “They’re too small to have come here alone. They’ve gotta be with …”

I glance to our rear cams, my heart tightening in my chest.

“Oh shit …”

A dark shape hangs there on the screen, lit from behind by the system’s sun, just a silhouette against a disk of burning red. It’s big and pointy and the most badass thing I have ever seen. All black, with huge white glyfs painted down the sides in a beautiful, furious script.

They’re the glyfs of the Unbroken.

A small crease slowly forms between Kal’s brows, which is about as close to upset as he ever looks.

“The Andarael,” he whispers.

“Kal?” Ty breaks in again. “You know this ship?”

But Scar answers for him, already two steps ahead. “It’s his sister’s.”

A green light flashes by my feet, and I look down. “Download complete,” I say softly, though that’s hardly our biggest concern anymore. Still, I’m an Aurora legionnaire, and I have my orders, so I drop to one knee and set to work frying the black box—that way, the only copy of its data will now be ours. Just in case we get out of this alive to use it.

I hear a burst of static from the Totentanz’s comms panel, and sadly, that starts feeling a lot less likely.

“Hello again, Kaliis.”

Kal stares expressionless at the blinking light awaiting his response.

“Saedii,” he murmurs.

Like a man sleepwalking, our Tank crosses the cockpit to the transmitter. I glance around the bridge, looking for anything that might help us. A grimy mug that says GALAXY’S GREATEST GRANDMA! sits by the copilot’s chair. A jetball team jacket is crumpled on the deck near the nav station. A pair of fuzzy dice hangs above the pilot’s chair. When Kal speaks, he sounds cool, conversational. He talks in Syldrathi, but my uni has enough spare processing power to still run a translation for me.

“We were not expecting your company so soon, Sister.”

“Forgive me,” she replies, her smirk audible. “You left in such a hurry, you forgot to issue an invitation, Brother.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” she purrs.

“… How?”

“Kaliis, I touched your ship,” she says. “Are you telling me that you did not even search for the tracker? You have grown slow and soft and stupid at your wretched little academy. Do they teach you idiocy there?”

Kal’s eyes are closed again. Just like me, he’s imagining the moment we left the Emerald City. Saedii throwing herself at the Zero, holding on for those few precious seconds before Ty tipped her off. She must have slapped a beacon on the hull. That’s why the Unbroken were so close when the SOS was broadcast by the convoy’s security. They didn’t need the distress call to know where we were.

“Saedii,” tries Kal. “You have asked and you have asked, and I have answered and I have answered. I want no part in this thing you do.”

“This thing I do,” she replies, her anger audible, “wants you. He wants you.”

Kal flicks the transmitter to the off position, killing his line to Saedii for a moment so he can speak to the Zero.

“Tyler, you must go,” he says simply. “Now.”

There’s a chorus of protests down the line from Goldenboy, from Scarlett, from Auri. Ty’s the one who prevails, at least for a moment. “Not an option, Kal.”

The transmitter on the dashboard flickers to life again. “We’ve hacked your communications, so I can still hear you, little brother. And nobody is going anywhere. You will surrender yourself to the troops I am sending to your ship, and your squad will dock with Andarael.”

“What could you want with my squad?” Kal asks, and for a moment, he sounds incredibly Syldrathi. Like none of the humans aboard the Zero could possibly have any value, anything worth delaying her journey even a minute for.

“Kaliis,” she chides him gently. “Do you not think it fitting your elder sister wishes to be properly introduced to her brother’s be’shmai?”

And there’s something in the way she speaks—a terrible, cold something—that tells me that she doesn’t just want to taunt Kal. That Auri has some value to her as well.