Aurora's End (The Aurora Cycle #3)(27)

The lieutenant wears an expression that is familiar to me, though I have not experienced it as often lately. It means she has no idea what I am talking about. She looks at Scarlett, who looks at Finian.

Finian translates. “She means that since we don’t know what kicked off the loop, we don’t know if it’ll keep going forever. We might run out of time.”

“Well, let’s get moving,” Kim says. “Do you have spacesuits?”

“I’m taking it you have an idea for getting us aboard?” Scarlett asks.

“Depends,” Lieutenant Kim says. “Are you EVA-certified?”

“Some of us more than others,” our Face replies, wry. “Fin’ll help me. He’s great in zero gee.”

“You have no idea,” Finian grins.

Lieutenant Kim studies Finian for a moment, then looks away, as if she does not wish to remind herself she is assisting a Betraskan. I assume her military training has taught her to trust her instincts, to deal with high-pressure situations while keeping a clear head. With no viable alternative explanation, she seems prepared to believe what her own senses are telling her for now. But I admit to mild admiration that she is taking this situation so well.

The lieutenant looks at me, and I realize I am staring.

I avert my gaze, dipping my head so my hair tumbles over my eyes.

“The whole station will be on high alert,” she warns. “The test malfunction was less than twenty minutes ago. They’ll be wondering if it was sabotage, and they will shoot you on sight. My ship’s got a cargo hold, but it’s gonna be a hell of a tight squeeze, so I hope you three like each other. A lot.”

I see Finian and Scarlett exchange a quick glance.

“I’m going to take you to a tertiary airlock,” Kim continues. “If we’re lucky, security’s going to be too busy with the core breach to notice.”

“And if we’re unlucky?” Scarlett asks.

Fin musters a thin smile. “Eleventh time’s the charm?”

? ? ? ? ?

Despite the cramped conditions of the fighter’s cargo hold, we reach the station quickly, and it is a simple EVA to the airlock, which is open to space and ready to receive supplies. Scarlett clearly finds it trying—even after we are safely tucked inside, she holds Finian’s hand.

At least, I think that is the reason.

Lieutenant Kim has instructed us to wait inside the airlock. She will dock her fighter and report to her superiors. Then, when she can slip away, she will equalize the pressure within the airlock before admitting us to the station, hopefully unobserved.

We wait in silence. I can see the vast, roiling blackness through the airlock viewport, lit by momentary flashes of energy—sullen mauve, laced with deeper darkness. I do my best to ignore the way the storm makes my skin crawl. Its power is almost inconceivable, and the thought that the scientists aboard this station sought to tame it makes me … uneasy.

I can admit to myself that the sensation I experience when the outer doors begin to close is pure relief. We must ensure we are standing on the ground when gravity kicks in so we do not fall. I glide down to take my place beside Finian, Scarlett on his other side, to offer him support. The sensation of gravity reasserting itself is unpleasant for him.

A green light comes on beside the airlock’s inner doors to indicate pressure has equalized, and we remove our helmets as the doors slide open. But instead of Lieutenant Kim, we are confronted by three Terran soldiers with SECURITY stamped across their breastplates.

A small part of my mind notes with bemusement that they are wearing camouflage. They are in space. What use is the camouflage?

They raise their weapons.

“Oh, come on,” says Finian. “You’ve gotta be—”

BLAM.





9



FINIAN





It took us nine more practice runs—and nine more deaths—but we’ve finally found a reliable way into the station. We’re actually getting pretty good at this. Any minute now, we’re going to start cracking in-jokes with Lieutenant Nari Kim.

I’m kidding. Lieutenant Kim wouldn’t know a joke if it fell from the sky and hit her in the head while everyone around her screamed, “Great Maker, it’s raining jokes!”

But speaking of our way in, it’s nearly time. I’m clinging to the outside of the station like it’s my one true love, waiting for my turn to worm into the waste ejection system. Zila disappeared two minutes ago, which means it’s fourteen seconds until I begin my run. I spend nine thinking about the way Scarlett winked before she climbed into the chute, and the remaining five thinking about Lieutenant Kim, because if this works, then we’ll have time for our first proper conversation with her, and I gotta stop pissing her off.

We’ve mastered the first part of the loop now, and it runs like clockwork. Kim spots our ship, and while she radios in to station command that she’s going to inspect it, we crawl into her fighter’s tiny cargo bay in our spacesuits.

Then our new friend Nari blows our shuttle to bits, her comms with the station fail, and at the eleven-minute mark of our loop she drops us off at the waste disposal vent. We’re hustling, because we’re all concerned that the quantum pulse we saw from the landing bay might damage something that could help us get home.