Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(66)

“We supposed to fly down?” I ask. “I left my broomstick in my other pants.”

Fin blinks. “Either broomsticks aren’t what I think they are, or you’re being Scarcastic with me again.”

“How the hells are we going to get down, Fin?” I demand, my temper getting the better of me. “It’s a hundred-meter drop and there’s no power to drive the lift. Even the emergency systems are failing!”

“And what happens when the emergency systems fail, Scar?”

“We all suffocate and die?”

“Well … yeah, that’s actually a good point. But before that?”

“I have no idea!” I cry, flailing. “I spent my only class on enviro systems making out in the back row of the lecture theater!”

(Jorge Trent. Ex-boyfriend #24. Pros: Adores musicals. Amazing dresser. Calls his mother three times a day. Cons: You see where this is going, don’t you?)

Finian taps his temple with his forefinger and smiles.

“Watch and learn.”

We wait in the corridor a few moments more, listening to the clamor of distant firefights, the heavy tread of approaching boots. The overheads are flickering in time with my heartbeat, every second we waste is another closer to capture or execution, and I can’t believe we’re just standing here waiting for—

The Andarael’s emergency system coughs its dying breath.

The power finally stutters and dies.

And along with it, of course, goes the artificial gravity.

It takes me a moment to realize. But then, by the light of Finian’s glowing fingertips, I see strands of my hair sent floating with the slightest movement of my head. The sickening feeling of vertigo I always get shifting into low grav comes over me, the sensation of my insides lifting up and floating free inside my body. Suppressing the urge to puke into my enviro-mask, I manage a smile.

“You’re an insufferable smart-ass most days, Finian de Seel,” I sigh. “But you do have your moments.”

Finian gives an experimental kick, lifting himself off the ground before arresting his momentum with one hand against the elevator door. He pushes himself inside, moving like a fish underwater, grinning and offering his hand.

“Milady?”

I grab hold, his actuator-assisted fingers gripping mine ever so gently. And with that, Fin kicks off the wall and sends us soaring downward, flying along the shaft, one hand holding mine, the other held out before us to light the way. My hair billows around my face like clouds, and I feel like I’m falling and flying all at once and for just a moment I forget where and who I am.

But not who I’m with?

And I glance at Fin out of the corner of my eyes and …

I hear the thudthudthud of a heavy gun somewhere below, smell fire in the rapidly thinning air. We reach the lower levels of the shaft and Fin slows our flight with taps of his hands against the wall, finally pulling us to a complete stop outside the docking bay doors. Then he’s at work with his multi-tool again, prying apart a manual release, clever fingers moving quick as the lock clunks and the doors part just a tiny crack.

Peering out into the dark of the bay, we quickly discover what’s making all the racket—someone’s at Zero’s controls, blasting away with its railgun at a squad of Terran marines on the other side of the docking bay. They’re returning fire with their disruptors, their shots lighting up the dark—they’re not enough to pierce the Zero’s hull, but it’s only a matter of time before they bring in something heavier.

“Idiots,” I growl. “I told them to take off if trouble found them.”

“I’m sure Zila is reminding them of that right now,” Fin says. “We better move.”

“Sneak across in the dark?” I suggest.

“Those marines will have thermographic vision in their helmets,” Finian says. “Hopefully they’re too busy avoiding getting shot to be looking out for us. But I grew up in zero grav. I can get us there.”

I tap my uni. “Kal, this is Scar. Me and Fin are in one of the access elevators on your starboard side.”

“Um,” Finian murmurs. “Port side, Scar.”

“For the love of … ,” I mutter. “Elevators on your left side, Kal. Left side. Lay down as much firepower as you can and open the rear hatch. Be ready to launch.”

“Acknowledged,” comes Kal’s reply.

The Zero opens up with another long, continuous burst, cutting a swath through the walls and cargo. The TDF marines are hunkered behind cover, but if their heads are down, chances are they won’t see us.

Finian grabs my hand and together we kick off the floor, sail up and out into the bay. I can see it spread out below us as we soar upward, lit only by a few rogue fires and the strobing bursts from the Zero’s forward guns.

“Hold on to me,” Fin whispers.

I wrap my arms tight around Fin’s waist, clinging on for dear life. We hit the roof and Fin rolls with our momentum, pirouettes in midair, and sends us sailing back down toward the Zero on the bounce. It’s an amazing stunt. Breathtaking, really. Fin’s movement is normally so considered, so labored lately. But up here, sailing through this flashing black and white free of gravity, he’s totally at home.

We soar down from the ceiling, Fin reaching out to grab a stanchion and swing us around, releasing his grip and sending us sailing in a perfect arc toward the Zero’s rear hatchway. I hear one of the marines shout and their disruptor rifles open up, and I hold tighter, wishing I was religious enough to start praying. But though I don’t have an ounce of faith, finally, finally, we hit the Zero’s rear landing, and with one last kick we sail inside.