Aurora's End (The Aurora Cycle #3)(84)

… you can fix this, Tyler …

I’m not sure I can, honestly. But I can’t see any other way through. I’ve got a few pieces on my side, and I didn’t spend all that time playing chess on the academy team for nothing.

Yeah, I was in chess club. Terrible thing for a dashing space pirate to admit, I know. But when you don’t swear or drink or chase skirt, there’s not much else to do for fun at a military academy.

Be grateful I was such a no-lifer, okay? Because I can see my enemy’s next move, clear as glass.

There’s really only one reason Cat would be among the prime minister’s protection detail. One reason the Ra’haam would send her here specifically. She used to attend this academy, after all. She knows it inside out, better than almost anyone. Its secrets. Its safeguards. Its weaknesses.

I’ve seen before that although the Ra’haam seems to know everything that every one of its drones knows, there’s still something about the individuals… . There’s a reason it sent Auri’s dad to hunt her down, and I’m not convinced it was just the power of her seeing his face. There’s a reason Cat’s here now, in this place she knows as well as her own skin.

And I know what that reason is, sure as I know Queen’s Gambit or the Caro-Kann Defense.

She’s their triggerman.

Catherine “Zero” Brannock is the one who destroys Aurora Academy.

I’m just not sure how.

An hour before the summit begins, I finally scope her in the lobby of the hab section guest wing. The summit itself is being held in the Founders’ Enclave, where Academy command holds its general assembly. It’s a massive, multi-tiered amphitheater, capable of seating a few thousand people. Hundreds of delegates are already en route to the first day’s talks, and station security is out in force. But as I watch that charcoal suit and mirrormask slipping through the crowd, I understand why the Ra’haam has waited to make its move. Attendees were arriving until early this morning, and with the influx of guests, the SecTeams are now stretched thin.

All the better for a lone pawn to slip through the line unnoticed.

I trail her through the crowd, outfitted in my new dark suit, the press credentials that Lyrann Balkarri gave me around my neck. The ID will only hold up to a cursory examination, but like the Ra’haam, I’m hoping security will be too pressed to focus elsewhere. I’m also hoping Balkarri can live up to his end of the bargain. I offered him the scoop of a lifetime, and he is a fan of the dimples. But there’s a lot riding on my gamble.

Only delegates, personal security, and press are allowed into the summit itself—the entourages and hangers-on, academy staff and legionnaires are all gathered in the caff joints and eateries beneath the statues of the Founders. Adams and de Stoy’s promise of a special address has curiosities piqued, and the promenade is packed.

I lose Cat three times, heart hammering in my chest as I search the mob. But I eventually find her again, cutting like a knife through the crowd, headed back in the direction of the docks.

Makes sense.

It’s the place she, and therefore the Ra’haam, knows best.

Cat rides a turbolift to the lower levels. I sprint down the stairs, earning a few strange looks from a maint crew. Is she headed for the fuel dumps, maybe? The munition stores? Lotta explosives down there …

Cat walks casually through the security patrols, flashing her GIA credentials; I do my best to skirt around them. It feels like I’m in a contest of cat and mouse, but I’m not sure who is who, and it strikes me as strange—that this whole game might be decided by two tiny pieces on this massive board, a million years and billions of lives in the making.

We’re down on Theta Deck when she gives me the slip. I have to pause in a stairwell to let a sec patrol roll past, and when I emerge into the corridor, I realize Cat’s just … gone.

I scan the deck, dash to the level below, eyes wide.

Where did she … ?

I retrace my steps, desperation growing, pulse and headache hammering. The image of the academy’s end flaring again in my mind.

Nononono …

The thing about chess is, you’re not really playing the game—you’re playing your opponent. Trying to scope what they’ll do before they do it.

And I think I just got outplayed.

I look around me, growing frantic now. Glancing at my stolen uniglass, I see it’s 08:27 Station Time—only thirty-three minutes until Adams and de Stoy are scheduled to speak. If the Ra’haam is concerned like I am, if it spotted that inflection as de Stoy talked about shadows and growing like I did …

And then I see it. A tiny glowing sign above a nondescript door.

RESTROOM.

I dash inside, bumping into a thin young Betraskan in academy livery, smiling an apology as we brush past each other. I scan the room, butterflies surging as I spot the ventilation duct.

Fresh scratches in the paint around the grille.

I walk toward it, pulled up short by the voice behind me.

“Holy chakk …”

Glancing over my shoulder at the cadet, I see him lingering in the restroom doorway. He’s staring at me, big black eyes gone even wider.

“Tyler Jones,” he whispers.

I recognize him at last.

“Jonii de Münn,” I murmur.

Champion of last year’s Aurora Academy chess tournament.