Aurora Rising (The Aurora Cycle #1)(17)

“Syldrathi.” He nods, his smile gone completely. “We were at war with them for a couple of decades, too. Terra only struck a peace accord two years ago.”

His hand lifts, fingers curling around the chain I can see around his neck. He tugs it free of his neckline—I don’t even think he’s doing it consciously—and I catch a glimpse of a ring before his fist swallows it up, squeezing tight.

He finds his smile again, though it’s weak.

“But that’s a history lesson you don’t need right now. Point is, yeah, we’ve discovered a lot of other species. Some we get along with, some we don’t.”

“So what do you do here?”

I mean, I’m assuming the dimples aren’t a full-time gig.

“I’m a Legionnaire,” he says. “There was a thing back in your day called the United Nations, right?”

I nod. “That’s you?”

“More or less,” he says. “We’re the Aurora Legion. We’re a coalition between Terrans—humans, you’d say—and Betraskans. Some Syldrathi joined us two years ago when our war ended. We’re an independent peacekeeper legion. We mediate border conflicts, police neutral zones of space. I’d say we’re humanitarian.” His mouth quirks to a proper smile. “Except a lot of us aren’t human.”

“And something happened yesterday, with the cadets? I heard the nurses talking about squads?”

And just like that, I’ve killed his beautiful smile stone dead.

Farewell, dimples. I miss you already.

“In our final year, we form squads,” he says. “Six Legionnaires, encompassing the six specialty streams here at the academy. Yesterday was this big, annual event called the Draft. It’s where the squads are formed.”

“Big day. But you look like somebody ran over your cat.”

I was trying to coax his smile into returning, and I sort of succeed.

“The Alphas pick their team members in the Draft, and those with the highest exam results get to pick first.”

“Except you were rescuing me instead.” My heart sinks as it all slots into place. “I’m sorry, Tyler.”

He’s quick to shake his head, his voice firm. “No. Don’t be sorry. I did what any Legionnaire would have done, and I’d do it again. I’m glad you’re here, Aurora.”

“Auri,” I murmur.

“Auri,” he echoes, softer.

And we’re both quiet a moment, because I guess the whole rescuing thing creates some kind of bond between you, and we both jump a little more than we should when the door opens to admit a grumpy-looking nurse.

“That’s it for today, Legionnaire Jones,” she says.

Ty hesitates a moment, then comes to his feet. “Can I—”

“You can visit her tomorrow,” says the nurse.

“I’m shipping out today, ma’am.”

“You’re leaving?” I blurt, quietly panicking.

“I’ll be back, don’t worry.” He smiles. “But yeah, those humanitarian missions I told you about? My squad has its first briefing in twenty minutes.”

“Then you’d best get moving, Legionnaire,” the nurse says.

Her tone in no-nonsense, her manner terse. So Tyler gives her a brisk salute, and hits me with those dimples one more time.

“I’ll come see you as soon as we get back, okay?”

“Okay …”

But somehow, it’s really, really not.

And with a small, sad wave, Captain Hotness walks out the door.

The nurse fusses about me, poking and prodding with various instruments I don’t recognize. I fold over the white sheets so she won’t see the blood and take it to a whole new level.

As I wait her out, I realize I’m sitting on a space station, tens of thousands of light-years from Earth. Totally alone.

How did this become my life?

Why did I get another chance at life at all, when ten thousand other people aboard the Hadfield lost theirs?

The nurse finally leaves, and I find myself alone for real. My head’s a mess, and now, without distractions, the reality of my situation’s pushing to the fore.

Even if my parents recovered from my loss and lived long, wonderful lives, they’ve been dead for over a century. I’ll never see them again.

I’ll never see my sister, Callie, again either.

Everyone I knew is gone.

My home, my stuff.

I can hardly wrap my mind around it, and I push at the idea like I’m wiggling a loose tooth, trying to find the point at which it hurts. There are little twinges for the most ridiculous things. My running shoes. My trophies. The fact that two centuries later, I’ll never find out what happened on my favorite series.

I look down at Tyler’s present in the palm of my hand. A small, glowing prompt is pulsing on the screen.

Please name your device.

And after a little bit of thought, I type a single word in response.

Magellan.

Because he was a pretty epic explorer … well, except the bit where he died horribly, far from home. Before that, though, did he ever see some stuff. And that’s why I trained in exploration. Because I want to see everything.

Maybe now I will. And honestly, I could use some of Big M’s mojo.