Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(72)

Auri giggles. “A needle.”

“Well, even smaller, then. And in this case, whatever a haystack is, it would take about a day to walk across it. And I just led us straight to our destination.”

“A commendable effort,” Zila says without turning her head.

“High praise,” Scarlett says, trying to hide her smile.

“Is it dangerous?” Kal asks.

I shake my head. “It’s got almost zero energy signature. Looks totally inert. We were lucky to even find it out here, to be honest.”

“Kal, how’s your shoulder?” Scarlett asks.

“Well enough,” he reports. “You wish me to prepare the docking bay?”

Scar leans back and chews her lip, a small frown on her brow.

“Yeah. Let’s bring this thing aboard and see what we can learn.”

· · · · ·

We can view the docking bay through a plasteel porthole, and we all cluster around it to peer at the object Kal has tractored inside. It’s teardrop-shaped, about half as tall as me. It appears made of … crystal, maybe? It’s cut like a piece of jewelry, a thousand facets, brilliant light dancing on its surface. There aren’t any other markings or details to be seen.

It settles as the rear doors close and the bay starts to equalize, somehow staying upright, floating a few centimeters above the deck.

“That’s it?” Aurora asks, saying what at least most of us are thinking.

“That’s it,” I reply.

“Do you sense anything from it, be’shmai?” Kal asks.

Auri frowns in concentration but finally shakes her head. “Nothing.”

“It’s kind of small,” Scarlett adds, peering at it.

“Your point being … ?”

There’s a long pause. As one, we all look around, then down. Those words just came from Zila, our smallest squad member. Was that …

Did she just make a joke?

“I CONCUR WITH LEGIONNAIRE MADRAN!” says a tiny, chirpy voice in Aurora’s pocket. “SIZE ISN’T USUALLY AN INDICATOR OF PERFORMANCE.”

“Hush, Magellan,” Auri murmurs.

“YOU KNOW, I SHOULD PROBABLY POINT OUT AGAIN THAT I’M THREE TIMES SMARTER THAN ANY OF YOU, AND YOU’RE CONSTANTLY TELLING ME TO BE QU—”

“Silent mode,” Scarlett orders.

“HUMANS,” comes a muttered complaint before the uni shuts up.

“… Can we go in there and take a look at it?” Auri asks.

“That is not advisable,” Zila replies, busy at the docking bay enviro controls. “The external temperature is minus 270.45 degrees Celsius.”

“Maker’s breath,” I say, looking over specs. “What is this thing made of?”

“It is defying our scanner’s ability to analyze its molecular structure,” Zila says, eyes roaming the data. “But I am detecting no harmful radiation or microbes. I will attempt to increase the object’s temperature. Please stand by.”

We all wait impatiently until, eventually, a lifetime later, Zila nods. It looks like everything is okay for us to enter. Kal punches the door control, and we move cautiously inside, crowding around it, pulling out our uniglasses. The thing is giving off zero energy. Apart from the fact that it’s physically present, there’s no way to tell if it’s broadcasting, if it has a power source internally, or what it’s for. Still, it’s a place to start, so we begin our analysis.

Except for Aurora. She doesn’t pull out Magellan. Instead, she stares at the thing as if she’s in a trance. And then, unblinking, but with a faint hint of a smile, she reaches out to curve her hand across its surface.

“I’M NOT SURE THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA, BOSS … ,” Magellan says.

“Aurora?” Kal asks.

Her fingers touch the surface.

Her uniglass makes a spitting, popping sound.

And she collapses at my feet.





18

AURI

I’ve never seen a view this beautiful in my life.

Back on Earth, there were no stretches of green like this left. On Octavia, there were endless swaths of wild land, but I never saw them in person—not until they were covered by the creeping Ra’haam. But this place is different to both of them.

Almost as far as the eye can see, it’s lush, flawless garden. Waterfalls of flowers tumble down gentle hills. Sprays of red blossoms hang from the trees. It’s an endless parade of blooms and plants, each more exquisite than the last, each different from those that went before.

As the landscape stretches—no, soars—away from me, my eyes don’t know where to settle. This place would make Eden look dull. Everything is brilliantly clear, the air crisp, the temperature perfect. On the horizon is some sort of city, tall spires of crystal stretching up toward a glorious, golden sky.

But the thing that strikes me most is the incredible sense of well-being. It’s like I’m drunk on the sunshine, on the purest air I’ve ever breathed. I don’t think I’ve spent a moment since I woke up on Aurora Station feeling anything less than tired and scared, and the lifting of that weight makes me feel like I could leap one of those distant crystal spires in a single bound.

Lacking anything else to do, I set out toward them. They’re a landmark, after all—maybe I’ll find something there that will explain to me where I am. I know I should be more worried, but it’s somehow impossible to muster any concern.