Aurora Rising (The Aurora Cycle #1)(12)

Wait, who am I kidding.

Ty makes a face and gets down to business.

“All right, first off, apologies for the unusual circumstances. I’m not sure what you’ve heard about how the Draft played out, but it looks like we’re going to be working together for the foreseeable future. Our official designation from Aurora Legion Command is Squad 312. My name is Tyler Jones, I’ll be this squad’s Alpha. This is our Face, Scarlett Jones, and our Ace, Cat Brannock.”

Cat sits and leans back in her chair. “Call me Zero.”

“As in, ‘Zero chance of success’?” Finian asks, all innocence.

“As in most cadets miss twelve to fifteen percent of targets on their pilot stream exam,” Tyler says.

“Guess how many I missed, Skinnyboy.” Cat smiles.

Said Skinnyboy stretches, his suit making a hum and a series of soft clicks. “Finian de Karran de Seel. Just Fin if you wanna be lazy about it. Gearhead. You break it, I’ll put it back together. Can’t promise a hundred percent success rate on anything but my dashing wit, though.”

I nod hello, turn to our second squaddie. She’s hunched in her chair, knees drawn up to her chin. She’s got this puzzled look, as if the idea of introductions doesn’t quite compute. And I get it—meeting new people can be tough. Especially since she knows she wasn’t Tyler’s first, fifth, or even last choice.

“Zila Madran,” she finally says. “Science officer.”

“I love your earrings,” I say, trying to put her at ease.

Well, that gets a reaction. Zila’s gaze snaps back to me, and she lifts one hand to the band of beaded gold as if she wants to hide it.

Hmmm. They’re the sort of thing you wear so they can be admired. But she doesn’t like it when people do.

Iiiiinteresting.

“So,” Finian says, turning his black gaze on Tyler. “Gotta say, I’m impressed, Goldenboy. There was a pool running on how long you’d be crying in your bunk before you pulled it together and gave us a rousing speech. To be honest, I had you down for this time tomorrow.”

Testing the water. Trying to push Ty’s buttons.

“How much did you bet?” my brother asks.

“Fifty creds.”

“Gambling is against academy regulations,” Tyler points out.

“And only a bloody idiot bets against Tyler Jones,” Cat adds.

Finian blinks at Cat, glances back and forth between her and Ty.

“What is he, your boyfriend or something?”

Uh-oh. Bad move.

Cat’s eyes grow a little wider. Standing slowly, she starts to pick up her chair.

“At ease, Legionnaire Brannock,” warns Tyler.

Finian looks unimpressed. I’m not sure he quite understands the damage Cat can do to a guy’s important bits with just a chair. But Tyler is her commanding officer now, and with Cat at least, that carries weight. So with one last scowl, she sits, giving our new Gearhead a glare that could melt plasteel.

Fin grins at Tyler. “Hey, is it true what they’re saying about you?”

“Probably not,” Tyler sighs. “What are they saying?”

“That you blew your spot in the Draft rescuing some civilian out in the Fold?”

“That’s classified,” Tyler replies. “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

“So it is true,” Fin snickers. “You’re just a regular … what is it you Terrans say … Boy Scout? A regular little Boy Scout?”

Zila, it seems, has had enough of the conversation. She picks up her uniglass, swiping the surface and tapping out a quick rhythm with her fingertips. Checked out. Despite my lack of sleep and caffeine, I feel sorry for Ty. As far as dream picks go, these two sure aren’t it. But my brother isn’t fazed.

“I remember you now,” Tyler says to Fin. “You’re the cadet who irradiated the propulsion labs so he could get out of his spatial dynamics exam.”

“Technically, everyone got out of their spatial dynamics exam.”

“You were that frightened of failing, huh?”

“Are we bonding right now?” Fin asks. “I feel like we’re bonding.”

“You’re also the kid I see sitting alone in the mess hall every chow break.” Tyler turns to Zila. “And you I don’t see at all. But like it or not, I’m your CO now, and we’re stuck together for the next twelve months. So you can buckle up and enjoy the ride, or play the tough guy and spend the next year cleaning latrines. Your choice, Legionnaire.”

Ultimatum. Nice play, baby brother.

Finian stares just long enough to save face. But really, he’s got no other move here and he knows it. So slowly, and as sloppily as he can, he salutes.

“Sir, yes sir.”

“And what about you, Legionnaire Uniglass?” Tyler asks.

Zila looks up from the device in her hand. Tilts her head and blinks once.

“I understand, sir.”

Tyler nods, all business. “All right, then. I don’t know where our Tank is, but I’ve got reports to file. Our mission briefing is at 08:00 tomorrow—with any luck, Command will send us somewhere we can do some good. Don’t be late. Squad dismissed.”

Tyler stands, and I shoot him a wink to show my approval. He’s not as good at reading people as I am, but then again, not many people are. I’m not sure what to make of Zila Madran, yet. But I’ve met guys like Finian de Seel a thousand times. Chip on his shoulder, and an open invitation for the whole Milky Way to take a big old bite.