Aurora's End (The Aurora Cycle #3)(25)

“I don’t like this,” Finian mutters. “I don’t like her.”

“Me neither,” Scarlett agrees. “But our ship is dead in the water, so we’re not getting anywhere until we convince her we’re not a threat.”

Fin looks at Scarlett, voice soft. “… You sure you’re okay?”

Scarlett blinks. “Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, okay as I can be, considering what’s going on here… .”

“You …” Fin swallows. “You got shot.”

“I’m fine, Fin.” Scarlett smiles gently, touches his hand. “I promise. You got shot too, you know.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “But I didn’t have to watch.”

They gaze at each other for a long moment, and the silence eventually grows heavy enough for me to feel compelled to break it.

“Your medallion.” I nod to the small crystal around Scarlett’s neck. “The diamond reacted after the quantum sail was hit out in the storm.”

“Yeah,” she replies, recalling herself to the business at hand. “But it’s not diamond. Fin figured out it’s Eshvaren crystal.”

I stare at the gem, eyes narrowing. “Interesting …”

“Why did it glow like that?”

“I do not know,” I murmur, my mind now racing. “But it must be of significance. Several of our gifts from Admiral Adams and Battle Leader de Stoy have proved vital up to this point. The cigarillo case that saved Kal’s life. The inscription on your necklace, telling us to go with the plan to disable the Eshvaren Weapon. It is as if the Aurora commanders knew what would happen to us. Their actions could even be interpreted as having guided us to this point.”

Fin cocks his head, unconvinced. “Obviously something’s up with the gifts. But guiding us? That’s a stretch, Zil. They gave me a damn pen.”

Scarlett nods to my golden hoops. “And you just got earrings.”

WHUNNGG.

Our shuttle rocks as a towline strikes the hull. Another follows.

WHUNNGG.

Fin rolls his eyes. “Guess we better go down and let Lieutenant Psychopath in. I wonder what new and interesting way she’ll kill us this time.”

“You must be polite, Finian,” I warn. “Her demeanor may be overly aggressive, but Lieutenant Kim is a critical component in all this.”

Scarlett raises one eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“I take it you did not notice her callsign.”

Now Finian blinks at me. “Huh?”

“Her callsign. A nickname used by her fellow pilots. It was stenciled on the wing of her fighter. It is also painted on the helmet she wears.”

“I was too busy looking at the pistol in her hand to notice the helmet on her head,” Scarlett admits. “What was it?”

I reach up to touch the earrings, the gift left for me in the Dominion Repository. The small golden birds dangling from the hoops, their wings spread, talons flashing in the dim light.

“Her callsign is Hawk.”

? ? ? ? ?

This time when the airlock disengages, all three of us are waiting for her out in the open. Lieutenant Kim doesn’t have her weapon drawn, though one hand rests on the grip. She stands framed in the doorway, reaching up slowly to unbuckle her mask and remove her helmet.

She is perhaps in her early twenties, and I believe my assessment that she is of East Asian descent is correct. Her features are symmetrical, conventionally attractive, although I imagine that for some, her stern expression would detract from the effect.

She is not tall.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” says Scarlett. “My name is Scarlett Jones. This is Zila Madran, and this is Finian de Karran de Seel.”

“And before you start shooting again, some of my best friends are Terrans,” Finian informs her. “All my best friends, actually.”

“Lieutenant Nari Kim,” our guest says slowly.

“Nice to meet you,” Scarlett smiles. “And thanks for not killing us.”

“You’re welcome,” she deadpans. “So, who wins the war?”

Scarlett tilts her head. “… What?”

“If you people are from the future,” Kim says, obviously still dubious. “Who wins? Us?” She nods at Finian. “Or the bleach-heads?”

“Nobody ever wins a war,” I reply. “But the Terrans and Betraskans will sign a peace treaty in—”

“Wait, wait,” Scarlett says. “Should we be talking about stuff like this?”

“… Why wouldn’t we?” Fin asks.

She glances at the lieutenant. “What if we change the future?”

“That only happens in bad science fiction novels, right?”

“There is no precedent for what we are experiencing,” I say. “Or at least, not one of which we are aware. It is difficult to know the ramifications of our actions, and virtually impossible to calculate the effects our presence in this time may have on future events. But given the gifts Aurora Command gave us, I believe it is best to assume we are supposed to be here.”

“Maybe the future we know only exists because of the things we do here,” Finian suggests. “Maybe we have to tell her this stuff.”