Aurora's End (The Aurora Cycle #3)(28)

I’m feeling pretty good about the waste ejection system, though. It’s chaotic aboard the station since the accident that set all this off, and it was only a wandering security patrol that tripped us up last time.

My timer buzzes, and I shift into action, enjoying the last sensations of zero gee. The circular outlet of the chute irises open, and hooking my bag around my foot, I wait as it emits a puff of gas and ash.

I now have five seconds before it closes and the pressure within equalizes. I pull myself inside, yanking my boots and bag through the opening just as the hatch hums shut. And I’m left in the dark, which is cut through with a slice of light from my helmet.

The chute is barely wider than my body, and I’m stretched out with my arms in front of me. Even though I’m lanky, it’s still a tight squeeze. Scar must have struggled, with her curvier parts.

I decide not to think about those. It’s already kind of crowded in here.

Using hands and feet, knees and elbows, I shuffle along the chute as quickly as I can. I have just over two minutes before I meet the next load of hot ash coming the other way, which is not a death I want to experience—it hurt enough the first time. My body protests, and my suit makes everything harder. My favorite multi-tool sticks into my ribs.

The timer at my wrist buzzes to signal I have one minute left, and I push on, every movement small but urgent.

Another buzz.

Thirty seconds.

Chakk.

At last my helmet light catches the edge of the exit hatch.

“I’m here,” I call quietly, and Scarlett and Zila appear. Their helmets are off, their hands reaching into the tunnel for me.

They’re standing inside a wall cavity barely the width of a body. Nobody comes down here except the automated drones that pick up waste loads and deliver them to ejection outlets. One will be along in about twenty seconds.

The girls grab my outstretched hands and pull. I slide past the still-warm incineration ring and slither free—they lower me down, supporting my weight until I can rest on the floor. We all hold still, Zila’s boot against my faceplate, and I hear Scarlett behind me, muffled by my helmet.

“What’s in the backpack?”

“Just a few supplies. Tools. Snacks. You know, essentials.”

“Well, the way to a girl’s heart is through her—”

“Be quiet!” Zila hisses.

Scar pipes down, squeezing my ankle in thanks as the drone whirs into place overhead, discharges its load into the chute, then whirs away again. The station shudders around us, a siren sounding over the PA.

“Attention, Glass Slipper personnel: Engineering team required, Deck 19, Priority One. Repeat: Engineering, Deck 19, Alpha Sector.”

Once the drone is out of sight, we get to our feet, joints creaking. I take off my helmet as Scar hands me my bag. The air smells like smoke and burned polys, the lights are flickering, white into red.

“Ninety seconds until our window,” Zila murmurs.

We follow her quietly toward the access panel. All around us, alarms are screaming, damage reports pouring over the PA. This time—unlike last time—we wait, ears pressed against the panel until the security patrol rushes by. Then I pull out a multi-tool and pop the hatch.

From there it’s easy. We hurry up the corridor, take the second left, and we’ve arrived at our destination—an outlet room near the hydration production and storage facility. HY.P.A.S.F., the sign says.

“Isn’t that an animal?” I ask, studying the acronym. “Native to Terra?”

Scarlett shoots me a confused look. “A hypasf?”

“An asp is a type of snake,” Zila ventures, uncertain.

“No, no, it’s a giant monster,” I say, squinting as I try to conjure up more details from my memory. “Huge teeth. Lives in the water.”

“… A shark?” Scar tries.

“Ah,” says Zila. “A hippo.”

I was pretty sure I had it wrong, but it’s worth playing dumb for Scarlett’s laugh, a warm, throaty sound that sends a zing up my spine. “Right. A hippaf. Learn your animals, Scar. That one’s clearly dangerous.”

“The most dangerous land mammal in existence,” Zila agrees solemnly. “They are capable of crushing a person to death in their jaws.”

Lieutenant Nari Kim speaks from the doorway. “Wait, what’s crushing people to death in their jaws?”

“Hippos, apparently,” Scarlett replies, looking concerned about it.

“Wouldn’t worry too much, Red,” Nari tells her. “They don’t live in space. And there’s only five of them left anyway.”

“Not anymore,” Zila replies. “Our rehabilitation programs were very successful. They thrive in the aquatic environs found on Troi III.”

“Wait a minute,” I say. “You people brought a terrifying teeth-monster back from the brink of extinction why, exactly?”

Zila shrugs. “Science.”

Nari looks almost entertained for a moment, then remembers she’s a badass who’s technically at war with my people. Her frown returns, dark as ever. Still, I swear we’re growing on her a little.

When those security guards found us in the airlock on our first boarding attempt, I thought she’d given us up for sure. But our next nine tries have convinced me that for now at least, Dirtgirl is on our side.