Aurora Rising (The Aurora Cycle #1)(94)

“I will stay until the end of this road.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Finian says. “But speaking personally, breaking Galactic Interdiction is where this particular Betraskan draws the line. I’m not about to make an enemy out of every government in the galaxy for the sake of a two-hundred-year-old telekinetic dirtchild who starts tossing us around like kebar balls every time someone clobbers her on the brainthing. But have fun with the suicide mission, kids!”

We’re all a little stunned, I think. The whole squad watches as Finian twirls once in his seat, stands up and starts slowly limping toward the doors, his exosuit whining. I can’t blame him really. He’s Betraskan, after all, and the trouble we’re in only goes as far as Terra. If he follows the smart money and cuts ties now, he might even be able to …

Finian turns back to face us, points right at me.

“Had you going, didn’t I?”

“What?”

He breaks into a broad, shit-eating grin. “Admit it. All of you. You thought I was actually going to eject, didn’t you?”

I find myself grinning, too, picking up Shamrock and hurtling him across the bridge. Fin doesn’t try to catch it and the toy bounces off his chest and hits the deck.

“You’re an asshole, Finian,” Scarlett sighs.

“Yeah,” he replies. “But I’m your asshole.”

He makes a face.

“Wait, no, that didn’t come out right. Ew. Sorry. Terran as a second language and all …”

Tyler grins, looks around the bridge at Squad 312. Most of us have only known each other for a handful of days. We’ve already been through the wringer together. We’re maybe about to go through hell. But truth is, despite everything, there’s no one else in the ’Way I’d want leading me.

“Lock in a course for the Octavia system, Zero.”

I give him a salute, then give him a smile.

“Sir, yes sir.”

?????

We’re almost at the Octavia gate when Bellerophon starts shooting at us.

Princeps has been trying to get us on comms for the last hour, but Ty ordered Scarlett to ignore the hails. It’s noisy enough in here without adding dire warnings from the GIA into the mix. Our systems have been wailing for the past twenty minutes, the local beacon alerting us that we’re approaching a system under Galactic Interdiction, that entry to the Octavia system is “extremely hazardous,” may result in “catastrophic consequences,” and “constitutes a violation of galactic law, as outlined by the Treaty of Verduum IV and cosigned by blah blah blah blah.”

I’m starting to hate life.

And then, a missile gets thrown our way and I remember why I like it so much.

Everyone’s changed out of their party gear and into uniform again, so at least we’re dressed for it. I deploy our decoys, warning everyone to hold on as I lay on the burn and go hard evasive. Our screens flare as the missile explodes behind us, lighting up the Fold a pure and burning white.

“Was that a nuke?” Scarlett asks, eyes wide.

“It sure wasn’t a pocket full of posies,” I reply.

“That poem is about the black death,” Zila says. “A pocket full of posies was supposed to ward off the—”

“Yes, thank you, little Legionnaire Sunshine,” Finian says. “But morbid Terran poetry aside, I do believe your fellow dirtchildren are trying to kill us and I thought our fearless leader said they didn’t want to do that!”

Tyler is looking at his scopes in disbelief. “I didn’t think they did?”

“Didn’t think? I thought you were meant to be a tactical genius!”

Ty raises his scarred eyebrow. “Finian, I hate to shatter your opinion of me, but this is probably as good a point as any to confess—”

“Hold on!” I roar.

Another three missiles are speeding our way along with a burst of fire from the Bellerophon’s rail gun batteries. I lean hard on the controls, throwing up another round of decoys. I weave through the firestorm, feeling the engine purr underneath me, fingers flowing over the controls, fast as thought. The blasts are thousands of kilometers wide, scorching the Fold as they blossom outward. But our Longbow is quicker, twirling and spinning through the rail gun storm, the rounds streaking soundlessly past her skin as she comes out the other side without a scratch on her.

“These bastards mean biz,” I growl.

“How long till we hit the Octavia FoldGate?” Tyler demands.

“Entry in four minutes, thirty-one seconds.”

“Can you hold them off till then?”

I look up at him and wink. “They didn’t name me Zero for nothing.”

We can see it in front of us now. Instead of the hexagonal titanium gates we Terrans use, or the teardrop-shaped crystal portals of the Syldrathi, this one is totally natural. It looks like a glimmering rend in the fabric of the Fold—as if torn by the claws of some impossible animal. It’s tens of thousands of kilometers across, edges rippling with quantum lightning. The view over its horizon shimmers like a mirage in a desert. And through that unthinkable tear in the universe’s skin, we can see faint glimpses of the Octavia star, burning red in a colored sea of realspace.

Bellerophon is pouring on the rail gun fire now. Any lingering question as to whether they actually want to kill us is answered as a dozen shells shear right past our port wing, missing us by less than a hundred meters.