Aurora's End (The Aurora Cycle #3)(66)

My father is insane.

“Kal, this is Tyler, do you read?”

I touch the commset at my ear. “I hear you, Brother.”

“We got new inbounds, multiple headings. Sempiternity’s launching all ships. Tell Auri if she can head off their charge, we’ve got her six.”

“Understood. How long until the rift drive is online?”

“At least thirty minutes. Can she and the bastard hold them that long?”

I look to Aurora, heart twisting. I can see the power in her, the strength gifted to her by the Ancients. But even as it burns inside her, flaring like a sun in her iris, I can see it. See them. Tiny cracks spreading out from her eye and across her skin. I see what this is costing her. How it is hurting her. And worse, just as my father said, how much she seems to …

She seems to be enjoying it.

“We will hold them,” I reply.

“Roger that,” Tyler replies. “We’ll keep as much heat off as we can.”

I watch the Sempiternity fleet scramble—perhaps fifty vessels, ragtag and mismatched. But as they soar out toward the incoming Ra’haam ships, I can see the hand of Tyler Jones directing them like a conductor before his orchestra. My brother was ever a master tactician, and it seems years of warfare have honed him sharper still. His ships cut a swath through the enemy, fighters launching, missiles flaring, explosions blooming.

But the Ra’haam is so many.

The black outside is now ablaze: burning ships and rupturing cores, boiling sap and bleeding leaves. But the enemy keeps coming, more and more, dropping in through tiny warp tears in the system’s skin. For every ship we destroy, another three seem to replace it, like the weeds these people name them for. And then …

“… Jie-Lin …”

A voice, echoing in the air around us. A tremor, running through my be’shmai’s body. I see her breath catch, her onslaught falter, feeling the horror and sorrow and rage flowing through her at the sound.

“… Jie-Lin …”

“Daddy … ,” she whispers.

“… We missed you … ,” it whispers.

I know the voice. Of course I do. Aurora’s father—the man she lost two centuries ago, and then lost again to the Ra’haam. One of the first human colonists on Octavia to be subsumed into the collective. In an awful way, he still lives inside it.

“… We thought we lost you. Oh, my love, we cannot tell you how good it is to feel you again. …”

“Be’shmai,” I whisper, squeezing her hand.

“I know,” she breathes. “That’s not him.”

“… We ARE him. We are everything we have touched. Betraskan and Terran, Syldrathi and Rikerite. Chellerian and gremp and Kacor and Cajak and Ayerf and Sarbor. Parents and children, friends and lovers, boundless and forever together. It is safe here, daughter. It is warm. It is love. …”

I feel Aurora tremble, gritting her teeth. Behind us, I hear my father’s voice, his own teeth bared in a snarl.

“Do not listen, girl.”

“I’m not.”

“It seeks to distract you.”

“I know!”

“… You do not know. You cannot. We do not want you to die, daughter. You know that is what it will cost you, don’t you? In the end … ?”

“Fool,” my father says. “Shut them out. Do not listen!”

“Father, you are not helping!” I roar.

“… Even if you triumph in this battle, you cannot win, all that awaits …”

My heart twists as Aurora’s nose begins to bleed. As the tiny cracks in her skin tear a fraction wider. And I know it speaks truth.

“… All that awaits you is death. …”

Our defenses are crumbling. The enemy’s numbers are too great. Tyler’s ships weave through the black. Explosions light the night. I see my father’s face twisted in his fury, fingers curling. But purple blood is dripping from his nose now, dark light seeping through his cracks.

“Tyler, how long?” I demand.

“Ten minutes! Maybe less!”

“We cannot hold them!”

The closest Ra’haam ships unleash a barrage, spiraling, spinning, spitting. They ignore Sempiternity entirely, intent only on the Neridaa—on the Weapon built to kill it, the Triggers meant to fire it.

I look to my father, to Aurora, desperate. Their faces are slick with blood, eyes shrouded in shadow, but still they strike: a concussive wave, blasting the projectiles into ichor. But more ships come, an endless tide, and I feel my heart sinking in my chest.

“Tyler, what is happening!”

“Rift drive is online! But the ’Walkers still need to power up the crystals!”

“Kal … ,” Aurora whispers.

“Tyler, we cannot hold them off!” I roar.

“Kal!”

I meet Aurora’s eyes, see the starlight flaring within them. She sways beside me, her lips red and bright. Her eyes are alight, and I recognize the kaleidoscope of emotion within her—elation and delirium, fierce and joyful, the drunken rush of battle. She reaches out her hand toward Sempiternity, current crackling at her fingertips. The power of a tiny god within her.

“I can do this.”

I look to the World Ship, shaking my head. “No, be’shmai, you will h—”