Aurora Rising (The Aurora Cycle #1)(28)

I wish I could say the room’s full of trained operatives clicking together like a well-oiled machine, but they’re anything but. The Legionnaires are talking over one another, shouting questions without waiting for answers, their voices rising to a frantic note. If this is the squad Ty didn’t want to lead, I see his point—nobody’s listening, and from the outside, it’s obvious how badly everybody should be.

I glance at the old man next to me, who’s the only one not doing something. “I’m Auri,” I offer quietly. And then, feeling the need for more formality, in the face of his perfect posture, I offer a small bow. “Aurora Jie-Lin O’Malley.”

He looks at me quizzically, like I’m a dog that just performed an amusing trick. “I am First Walker Taneth Lirael Ammar, young Terran,” he replies, his voice deep and cool. “You may call me First Taneth.”

“The people on the warship …” I try to swallow, my throat raw and aching. “Will they kill us?”

“Most assuredly,” he says, in the same voice he used to give his name.

Well, son of a biscuit. This is going from bad to worse.

The joke sounds weak in my own head, and my breath feels oddly shallow, as if someone’s squeezing my chest. I can’t die in the middle of a conflict I don’t even understand, on a space station, two hundred years into the future.

Can I?

There are things I should have done before a moment like this came. I still haven’t even tried to look up my mom, or Callie, find out what happened to them. Through all the long hours jammed in that packing crate with Magellan, I never felt ready to see them reduced to names and dates on a screen. Or worse, missing like Dad. So I didn’t try at all, and now I might never get the chance.

Kal’s voice breaks over the noise around me, the chaos of the squad’s shouted questions and instructions. “Station defenses will not be adequate to fend off the Wraith. We must break out all available weaponry and prepare for a boarding action. The Unbroken will show us no mercy.”

The Betraskan boy replies, his voice dry, as though the situation’s somehow funny. “Our combat specialist’s advice is gather up the sharp cutlery and pointy sticks, then run face-first at certain death? You know, I like you, Kal.”

The other boy raises one perfect silver eyebrow. “You have a better plan?”

“We could ask the Unbroken out to drinks, flirt a little, talk this thing out?”

“You are not much of a warrior, are you, Finian?”

“Well, you’re not much of a—”

“Shut up, Finian,” Scarlett says, exchanging a glance with her brother. She tilts her head and he lifts his chin, and something passes between them. They have the same language of siblings I have—had—with my sister.

I wonder if Callie went on to become the composer she dreamed of being.

I wonder what it was like, to only have mom there in the audience, trying to clap hard enough to make up for dad and me.

Ty lifts his head to address the ceiling.

“Zila, are we anywhere on comms?”

Surprisingly, a voice from the ceiling answers him. “One minute, sir.”

A pair of legs in the same blue-gray uniform we’re all wearing appear through an open hatch, and a moment later they’re followed by the rest of a girl about my age. She has dark brown skin; long, black, curly hair pulled away from her face in a loose braid that shows off big, gold hoop earrings; and she looks like she could have been in any one of my high school classes. She types a series of commands into a console and nods.

“Signal strength is now sufficient to send a distress call into the Fold,” she informs him. “We can also hail the Syldrathi vessel if you wish.”

Kal shakes his head. “The Unbroken will not negotiate with the likes of us.”

“We could all evac?” Scarlett asks. “Run for it through the asteroid field?”

The Betraskan boy, Finian, chimes in again. “We won’t all fit in the Longbow. And the skiffs these people came in are in no shape to outrun a Syldrathi Wraith.”

Ceiling Girl—Zila—speaks up. She’s the only one without that hint of panic in her gaze, and she’s still studying her station like she’s doing a crossword. “Legionnaire Brannock could ram our Longbow into the Syldrathi ship. Impact would be fatal for her, but if she aimed right, she has an excellent chance to take out their reactor and weapons systems.”

Cat’s voice rings out over the loudspeaker.

“You know I can hear you, right?”

“Yes,” Zila deadpans.

“Well, if we could avoid any orders that end with the words ‘ramming speed,’ that’d be just brill, thanks. Ty, I’m launched. Stealthing through the asteroid field right now. They dunno I’m here yet.”

“Stay off their scopes,” Tyler replies. “Zila, have a mayday ready to broadcast, but don’t send it yet. This station looks like it’s falling to pieces. If we don’t do anything to attract attention, we might convince them nobody’s home.”

“Sir, I’m detecting a launch from the station’s aft port bays,” Zila reports.

“Visual,” Ty snaps.

An image springs to life on the largest screen. It’s a debris field in space, mostly chunks of rock, a few pieces of derelict machinery floating lifelessly among them. Like I’m watching a video game, the focus shifts and zooms as Zila adjusts it, and we get a close-up of a tiny shuttle weaving through the asteroids. First Taneth tenses beside me, whispering in a language I don’t understand.