Aurora Rising (The Aurora Cycle #1)(85)

I think about the fact that I just asked every single one of them to walk into the mouth of the beast because they believed in me. The fact that none of them blinked. And the fact that they didn’t just walk in.

They flew.

Auri’s curled up at an auxiliary station, knees under her chin. She’s bruised and tired and bloody, but there’s a new fire in her eyes. She has the Trigger clutched in her fist, staring as if it holds all the answers to all the questions.

What am I?

Why am I here?

What is this all for?

And now that we’ve got our hands on it, I can’t help but wonder. I know we’re part of something bigger here. Something at least two centuries in the making. Maybe even more. Something the leaders of the academy knew about before we did. Something the GIA knows about, too.

I feel like a pawn being pushed from square to square. And try as I might, I can’t see the rest of the board. But you don’t spend five years at military academy without learning a thing or two about how guns work.

And if this thing in Auri’s hand is the Trigger …

Then where’s the Weapon?

And what in the ’Way is that Weapon for?





25


    Auri




We plunged into the Fold ten minutes ago, and no one has spoken since.

The colors are monochrome, black and white and shades between, bleaching the fire out of Scarlett’s hair, turning Zila’s rich brown skin a dark gunmetal gray. The ship is traveling smoothly, and I’m sitting on one of the long padded benches at the rear of the bridge. The weight of the Trigger resting in my hands.

Every part of me is aching, from my teeth to my toes, but though I’m light-headed with exhaustion, I’m alive. Not just with the adrenaline of survival but with the sense that I’m on the path I need to follow. I don’t know where it leads—I don’t even know where it goes next—but there’s an indefinable sense of rightness that comes with doing what I’m supposed to.

Supposed to? By whose rules? And for what reason?

If I follow this path, will I find out what happened to my father and the others on Octavia? Will I find out why my government wants to erase me, too?

Will I find out what I am?

I look down at the statue in my hands, running my fingers over the surface. It looks old, worn smooth with time. It feels right in my palm, like it’s supposed to be there. But I’ve got no idea what I’m supposed to do with it.

It’s Tyler who breaks the silence, unbuckling his own harness and coming to his feet. He’s still in his formal wear, the black ripped far beyond the dictates of fashion now. “We need to decide where we go next,” he says.

Then he pauses, looking around the cabin. Surveying the tired faces of Aurora Legion Squad 312. His lips curve to one of those dimpled smiles he does so well. “What I meant to say,” he corrects himself, “is that that was incredible. I couldn’t be prouder to serve with every single one of you.”

They’re the right words. I see how each of the squad sits up just a fraction straighter after he speaks.

Still, Fin sounds as he always does when he replies. “Thanks, Goldenboy. But you’re right. We need to figure out where we go from here, or the only thing we’ll be serving is time. And no way am I sharing a cell with you reprobates.”

Cat speaks without turning her head, though I wish I could see her face. “I admit I could do with some navigational input.”

I open my mouth, then close it, looking down at the Trigger in my palm again. This thing we just risked all our lives for. The squad are all staring at me now—all except Kal of course, who’s ignoring me as intently as he always does. But I can feel everyone else on the ship looking to me for answers.

I have no idea where we’re meant to go now.

I’m saved from answering by Zila, who unbuckles herself and stands. “I will provide medical treatment,” she says, in the same calm voice she always uses, as if she didn’t just help blast four Chellerian bodyguards three times her size after blowing out the gravity of an entire space station. “Scarlett, could you access the supplies? We are due to eat. And we should change our clothes.”

Everyone animates at the idea of food. So there’s a pause by mutual agreement as the Jones twins grab and distribute shake-n-heat ration packs. Mine says NotPork’n’Apple Casserole and Pie! on the foil. I’m not sure whether to worry first about the NotPork or the and Pie!, and I shake it until the foil warms to the touch, tear it along the dotted line.

A now-familiar beep sounds from inside my dress. “You realize there is nothing close to either pork or apple inside there, right?”

Squinting inside suspiciously, I suspect Magellan is right, but I shrug and chow down anyway.

“Ty, we need to talk,” Scarlett says.

“Uh oh,” Tyler replies, mouth half full. “No conversation in human history that began with those words ever ended well.”

Zila is standing by Fin, dabbing something on the cuts on his face. “We should discuss what we saw at Dariel’s flat. The information may impact our next decision.”

“Why?” Cat asks, looking between them. “What did you see?”

Kal speaks beside me, his voice low. “There was something wrong with the GIA agents. We saw it when we removed their uniforms for Scarlett and Zila to wear.”