Aurora Rising (The Aurora Cycle #1)(34)

Tyler glances at the TDF troopers, those blank GIA faces. He might be a Legionnaire, but underneath it all, he’s still a Terran. I can see it in his eyes. All those years of military training, all those years of yes sir, no sir, may I have another, sir. You don’t get to be top Alpha in the academy by rocking the boat. You don’t get to be the Goldenboy by not following orders.

“You should go with them, Auri,” he says.

Kal steps forward, hand on his sidearm as he stares the Princeps down. “This station is under Syldrathi control, Terran. You have no authorit—”

The TDF troopers raise their weapons. Two dozen targeting lasers light up Kal like it’s Federation Day.

“Control your man, Legionnaire Jones,” Princeps says.

“Legionnaire Gilwraeth,” Tyler says softly. “Stand down.”

“Kii’ne dō all’iavesh ishi,” the Syldrathi says, a flash of anger breaking through the ice. “I will—”

“That’s an order!” Ty snaps.

Kal smolders, but Syldrathi arrogance aside, the guns aimed right at that pretty face seem to give him pause. He backs down.

Auri looks around the group, tears in her eyes, but it’s clear nobody else is going to step forward. No way I’m going to, anyway. Betraskans think in terms of the negotiation. The deal. And with a trade this bad, the smart move is to just walk away. My fellow Legionnaires seem content to follow Tyler’s lead, and he’s not stepping in to save her, either. He risked everything for this girl once already, after all. And look where it got him.

Out here.

With us.

And so she lifts her chin, and walks forward to join her escort like she’s going to her execution.

The TDF troopers motion with their guns for us to follow.

Yeah, I don’t feel good about this at all.





11


    Auri




I’m stumbling down a long hallway of burnished steel, the white-clad figure in front of me, the others in gray following behind. They walk in unison, their steps landing in the same instant on the metal grille, like soldiers on parade. I’m in the middle, messy and out of place, hurrying along to keep to their pace. My right eye is aching like there’s glass in it. I can taste my blood on my lips.

And I’m repeating Kal’s words to myself, whispered in my ear as he eased the gun out of my hand.

Go with dignity. You are more than this.

Though he spoke them like a rebuke, his words are enough to stiffen my spine. I spent years at competitions and championships, pushing myself, proving myself worthy of an Octavia berth. Now, I reach with desperation for the composure that carried me through those times, though I can feel it slipping through my fingers as quickly as I grasp it.

The white figure stops outside a heavy sealed door, turns to the figures behind me. There’s a short, uncomfortable pause and then, though no words were spoken, two of the agents nod and walk back the way we came. My head is aching, my eye is still burning. And looking at my dull reflection in that featureless helmet, I can see my right iris has gone completely white.

I want my mom. I want my dad. I want to run as far and as fast as I can, and hide somewhere safe, and never come out.

“Please,” I whisper. “P … Pri …”

“Princeps,” the one in white replies, brushing imaginary dust off its lapel.

I can feel tears burning my eyes. “I w-want to go home.”

“You are going home, Aurora. I am about to report that you are on your way.” Princeps waves one spotless gloved hand at the agents behind me. “My colleagues will see to your needs until I return.”

The white figure turns and marches down the hallway. One of the gray suits behind me touches a panel, and the heavy door beside us slides open with a whisper.

I begin to follow the agent through the doorway, then jerk to a halt two steps in, so suddenly that the faceless agent behind me nearly collides with me.

That stumble is the first truly human moment I’ve had from any of them.

I’ve seen this room before, and the shock of recognition was so strong, it stopped me in my tracks. An image of it flashed into my mind back in the cargo bay, the moment I heard the words Terran Defense Force. Another vision, arriving with a terror that completely displaced my panic about having thrown that Syldrathi girl into a wall with what I’m pretty sure was the power of my mind.

What the hell is happening to me?

I saw the same steel-gray walls I’m seeing now, the same burning lights, the same single chair in the exact center of the floor, and me seated on it. My hands were bound in front of me with gray cuffs the same shade as my interrogators’ suits, and the pain that was coming from those cuffs—the very memory of it has me trembling. It was melt-your-flesh-off-your-bones pain, cut-off-your-hands-to-escape pain, and on pure instinct I try to back up, bumping into my captor.

Two gray-gauntleted hands land on my shoulders, squeezing until my bones are fit to crack and fuse together, and my knees give, my vision swimming.

Those same hands grab my biceps and steer me, stumbling, toward the chair, twisting me around and dumping me in it. I remember that Syldrathi girl, remember throwing up my hands and pushing her away without ever touching her, and I stare up at my captors, half-blinded by pain and tears, desperately probing my mind for the part that knows how to throw them across a room, scrambling for anything that might help, and coming up short.