Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(69)

The only way out is through, Scarlett.

The only way out is through.





17

FINIAN

I’m trying to concentrate on these calculations, and failing miserably. The data I’m pulling out of the Hadfield’s black box is like an endless stream of moving targets, all spinning and dancing around one another in an unpredictable game.

We’re en route to the coordinates indicated by the original readings, where something caused the colony ship’s systems to go haywire. The place, presumably, where something happened to Auri. The problem is that whatever caused it—if it was a physical object—will have drifted by now, so I need to account for that. The other problem is that an approximate location just isn’t good enough. Space is really big, and “somewhere around here” doesn’t cut it.

Kal’s finished with his weapons check, and having set our course through the Fold, Zila has taken him to the infirmary, along with Auri to assist, or possibly just to tell him to stay still and not be such a baby while side-eyeing his abs (for this I cannot fault her). While I work, Scarlett’s watching the monitors, alert for even the smallest hint we’re being followed or flying into something dangerous. But truth be told, she’s staring down at the screens like she can barely see them, lips pressed together hard, her breathing slow and deliberate as she tries to keep it together.

“You okay?” I murmur, knowing that it’s a dumb thing to say. I’m not okay, and he wasn’t—isn’t, I mean—my twin brother.

She looks up, summons a weak smile. “Not really,” she admits.

I nod because, well, fair enough. “We’re not giving up on him,” I tell her quietly. “You know the GIA’s going to hold on to him. He’s more useful to them—to Princeps—alive. Whether it’s for information, or just as bait.”

“I know,” she agrees in a whisper. “But I still can’t believe we left him. He was right there, and we ran away.”

Her words echo in the silence between us, underscored by the soft hum of the Zero’s systems. I know we’re both thinking about the ship’s namesake. About Cat, who was still right there when we ran too.

Scarlett swallows hard, tries to sit up a little straighter in her chair, and it breaks my heart to watch her like this.

“Okay,” I say. “What’s Tyler’s most annoying habit?”

She blinks. “His what?”

“Work with me on this,” I coax, summoning a smile I pray is a little stronger than hers. “What really drives you nuts about him?”

She considers the question. “He labels his stuff,” she says, lips curving just a touch.

“Sorry, he what?”

“Puts his name on it. Has since we were kids. Everything. I never checked, but I’m pretty sure his underwear’s got his name sewn in the back.”

“What else?”

“He never seems to mind when you screw up,” she says. “He’s perfect, but when the rest of us aren’t, he never looks at you like you could have, should have done better. It’s like he makes allowances for everyone else to fail, but never for himself. He’s so damn saintly about it.”

I tilt my head, feeling the stretch in the stiff tendons of my neck. “And what form does this sainthood take?”

She flaps a hand. “You know. Pep talk. Patient expression. Tells you to keep trying.”

I study her for a long moment. “Hey, Scar?”

“Mmm?”

“Keep trying.”

She balls up her empty Strawberry Cake’n’CustardTM wrapper and tosses it at me, but she laughs. And she reaches out to curl her fingers around mine and squeeze, and my heart wants to break out through my chest.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “And thank you for going back for him with me. I won’t forget that.”

“Anytime,” I tell her.

“Do you need me to be quiet so you can concentrate?”

“I do not, for I am outrageously clever, and I can multitask.”

Her smile is tired and a little sad, but it’s real. “All right, Superbrain. What do you think we’re looking at?”

I squint at my screen. “Some sort of … wiggly, blobby confluence of space-time aberrations,” I say, injecting as much authority into my tone as I can.

“So you have no idea.”

“I have no idea,” I agree. “But if it’s something left behind by the Eshvaren, I’m not sure I would. I’ll keep working on locking down the exact location. We’ve still got a while before we’re close. In the meantime, is there any chance you’d sleep if you took a sedative? I can keep an eye on the monitors until Zila gets back, holler if anything crops up.”

“We should all sleep,” she frowns. Caretaker mode initiated.

“I’ll take my turn, I promise,” I say, raising my hand and waving around a couple of fingers like I’ve seen Terrans do when they make a promise. I can tell from her expression I’m doing it wrong.

“All right, all right.” She pushes to her feet, stretching slowly. “I’ll take something, head to bed.”

“You need anyone to tuck you in?”

She just winks and saunters off toward her quarters, leaving me to my calculations. I’m still replaying the wink a little while later when Zila and Auri reappear.