by Amie Kaufman
“Your speed is insufficient, Legionnaire Gilwraeth.”
I see the incoming Zero, rusted and ugly but flying toward us swift and straight as an honor blade. I see the Hephaestus fighters swarming around her like fireflies in the dark. I adjust course, cleaving to the path outlined on my HUD, jetpack at maximum burn now, swooping upward in a smooth arc to intercept our ship, her docking bay doors open wide to receive us, a light in the darkness. Tracer fire spills silently through the night, and Aurora squeezes me so tight it is hard to breathe, my heart pounding against my ribs.
“We are inbound,” I say simply.
“I see you!” Tyler shouts. “A few more seconds.”
“Alpha, adjust course, zero point four deg—”
“I got it, I got it!”
“They’re not gonna make it!”
“Kal, pull up!”
A blur of rusted metal. A gleam of pristine light. A beautiful girl in my arms. And all around us, soundless. I see it in slow motion, the Zero looming before us, the tiny moments of my tiny life strobing before my eyes. My sister and me, standing beneath the lias trees with our father, training in the Wave Way. The Enemy Within, stretching and flexing, blooming like a flower in dark earth beneath his hand. My mother, reaching out to touch my face, the bruises we share bringing tears to her eyes, her words ringing in my soul.
There is no love in violence, Kaliis….
“Incoming!”
The light swells, and I wrap my arms around Aurora tight as we soar through the open bay doors. I slam on my thrusters to slow us, twisting to shield her with my body when we hit the far wall. My teeth bite my tongue and my brain is rattled inside my skull as we collide with the bulkhead and crash onto the deck. I feel the vibration of the bay doors closing behind us. Aurora is lying on top of me, gasping in my arms. Bruised. Breathless.
But alive.
Gravity is returning and her hair is tumbling about her face, her nose smudged in blood. But as she pulls herself up to look at me, she is still the most beautiful sight I have seen in my life. Atmosphere has returned to the bay and she fumbles with the clasps of her helmet, tearing it loose and dragging her hair from her eyes, shining in triumph.
“Holy cake, that was incredible,” she breathes.
She is grinning, bewildered, amazed. Her eyes are wild, delirious at the simple thought that we are alive, against all odds, alive. And before I quite know what she is doing, she has reached up and pulled my helmet loose, too.
“You are incredible.”
“Aurora—”
And then her mouth is on mine, smothering any thought or word. She grabs my suit and drags me closer, sighing into my lungs as I crush her to my chest, almost hard enough to break her. She is a dream, alive and warm in my arms, and I burn with the feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her. She is smoke and starlight, she is blood and fire, she is a song in my veins as old as time and deep as the Void, and as I feel her surge against me, the flutter-soft touch of her tongue against mine, she almost destroys me.
Kiss.
It is so small a word for so wondrous a thing.
Our first kiss.
I am aflame in the sweet and urgent softness of her mouth, the sharp press of her teeth as she nips my lip, her fingertips weaving into my braids. Her touch is maddening, there is so much weight to it for one of my people, so much promise behind it, and there is nothing to me—nothing at all—save the feel of her in my arms and the single word that burns like a first sunrise behind my eyes.
More.
I must have more.
The impact knocks us sideways, an alarm blaring across the Zero’s docking bay as emergency lights begin to flash. We break apart, Aurora’s lips bee-stung and parted, the taste of her blood still on my mouth. The deck shudders beneath us.
“You two okay in there?” Tyler asks over comms.
I look into Aurora’s eyes, and her smile is the only heaven I have ever known.
“We’re perfect,” she whispers.
“Well, not to rush you, but I could use my combat expert up here!”
I blink hard to clear my head, willing myself to breathe.
“On our way, sir.”
Aurora climbs off me and I glide upward, pulling her with me. I want nothing more than to linger here. To sink slowly into the unspoken promise behind that kiss. But the danger is bright as the fire she lights inside me. And so I take her hand and we run together, limping and bloodied, down the main corridor to the bridge.
Scarlett looks up from her console and winks.
“Nice flying, Muscles.”
“What is our status?” I say, sliding into my station.
“One of the cruisers has sustained critical damage from the Hadfield debris field,” Zila reports. “Ten fighters and the second cruiser still in pursuit.”
“They’re sending an SOS,” Finian reports. “Our ship ident and vid footage.”
“They think we’re pirates!” Tyler shouts, leaning hard on his controls as we weave through the surrounding convoy. “Can you jam their transmission?”
Fin shakes his head. “They sent it before I got aboard. I’m not a miracle worker, Goldenboy!”
“Anyone who was monitoring us when we blasted out of Emerald City is going to know we’re on this ship!” Scarlett yells over the alarms. “TDF. GIA. Our fellow legionnaires. Bounty hunters. This sector is going to be hotter than my unmentionables when the navy hits town!”
“Thank you, Scarlett, I don’t need a status report on your underwear right now!” Tyler roars.
“I mean, I could hear a little more?” Fin says.
Aurora’s uniglass beeps in her pocket. “THE FIRST RECORD OF HUMAN UNDERGARMENTS WAS THE LOINCLOTH, A SIMPLE GARMENT COMMONLY WORN IN—”
“Silent mode!” Tyler shouts.
Tracer fire rips through the dark around us. I let loose a burst from our rear railguns and am rewarded with a flare of bright fire and a soundless explosion. The fighters return fire, but the Zero’s flakscreen and interceptors are state of the art, and we are still ahead of the pack for now. Tyler is not the ace that Zero was, but he is still an impressive pilot, sending us soaring over the vast gunmetal expanses of the derelicts around us, weaving between the broken ships like a dancer.
“Undies aside,” Scarlett says, “I’d like to keep my ass in my pants if at all possible. We should get out of here before real trouble arrives.”
“We still need the black box,” I point out. “If we retreat now, we will not have another chance to approach the convoy.”
“We do not know where the black box is,” Zila points out.
“Like I said, they probably just stowed it on the lead tug,” Finian says.
“Well, bad news, they’re not slowing down for us to stop and check!” Tyler shouts. “And we don’t have long till these goons aren’t the only ones shooting at us!”
Alarms scream as a volley of missiles bursts below us, carving black swaths across a derelict’s skin. My pulse is pounding, electricity crackling at my fingertips, a fierce and burning elation welling within me—both at the memory of Aurora’s kiss and at the thrill of battle around me.
I feel invincible.
Unbreakable.
“I can retrieve it,” I hear myself say.
Scarlett blinks at me, flame-red hair framing disbelieving eyes. “Are you high?”
“Kal…,” Aurora says.
I am looking at my Alpha, still bent over his controls.
“We need that data, sir,” I tell him. “If we miss our chance here, the convoy will be doubly guarded. And in less than twenty-four hours, they will have docked. This is our moment. Get me close to that lead tug. I will do the rest.”
Tyler tears his eyes off his displays, meeting mine.
“Believe, Brother,” I say.
/> He clenches his jaw, but nods.
“I’ll get us close as I can.”
I am on my feet already, my blood alight. I am retrieving a disruptor rifle and a blister of thermex charges from the weapons locker when Fin pushes himself upright with a sigh.
“Where are you going?” Scarlett asks.
“With him.”
“Seriously, is there a CO2 leak in here or something?” she says, looking between us. “Or did we all come down with a case of boneheaded heroics when I wasn’t looking?”
“I’m the Gearhead in this squad.” Fin shrugs, checks his suit integrity. “Pixieboy wouldn’t know a black box if it fell out of the sky, landed on his face, and started to wiggle.”
She scowls. “I presume they’re black? And, I dunno, box-shaped?”
“Well, excuuuuse me, Miss Scarcasm,” he says, eyebrow rising, “but they’re orange, not black. Makes them easier to locate and recover in a crash situation. Besides, I’m already suited up. And we don’t have time to argue.”
I toss another disruptor rifle across the bridge, and with a swift whine of his newly repaired exosuit, Finian catches it. Scarlett throws her hands up in resignation. Zila is crouched beside Aurora, checking her vitals, wiping the dried blood off her lips. I meet my be’shmai’s eyes and I can see fear in her stare. I can see fire. I can see the memory of our kiss, and the promise behind it, and the thought of more hanging in the infinity between us.
“I will return,” I say.
“You better,” she says.
With a nod to Finian, I am running back down the hallway to the secondary airlock. I slip on my helmet, activate my heads-up display, watch the view from outside the Zero as we flash in and out between the convoy ships. The auto-fire systems in our railguns are good enough to keep the fighters off our tails, though not much more, and our interceptors can keep the cruiser’s missiles at bay. But if more trouble arrives—and it is certainly on its way—we will be outgunned.
“We must be swift,” I say as Finian bundles into the airlock beside me.
“Don’t worry,” the Betraskan says, pulling on his helmet. “I’m just doing this to look impressive. I don’t wanna be over there any longer than we have to.”
He meets my eyes and smirks.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not much of a warrior, Kal.”
I look him up and down, the rifle in his hand, the lumps of his exosuit beneath his space gear. He is a strange one, this Betraskan. A sharp-edged shell, built around a fragile heart filled with sadness. In truth, we Warbreed have little compassion for frailty. With his disability, someone like Finian would have been cast aside among my brothers and sisters—thrown to the drakkan so his weakness would not infect the rest of the cabal. Such was our way. Only the weak seek mercy. And only the weakest grant it.
But I see the foolishness in that now. I see a courage in Finian that other Warbreed would envy. He asks for nothing, this boy. No favor. No quarter. He lives every moment of his life in pain, but still, he lives it. And he stands, where others would have long ago fallen.
“You look like a warrior to me, Finian de Seel,” I say.
He blinks at that. Opens his mouth as if to speak, but—
“Approaching lead tug now,” Tyler reports. “One fifty klicks and closing. I’ll get as near as I can, but we’re still gonna be coming in fast.”
“Acknowledged.” I look at Finian. “Are you prepared for this?”
He nods, slips his fists into the wall restraints. “Ready.”
I press the controls for the outer door, and with a brief rush of air, silence descends once more. I watch the convoy ships fly past us in a blur, watch the stars tumble and turn as Tyler ducks and weaves through the fire from behind us. I can feel the beauty in this moment. The war in my blood, longing to be unleashed.
There is no love in violence, Kaliis….
We are approaching the lead tug, its engines burning bright, the dark around us lit by railgun fire and missile bursts. I see the name TOTENTANZ stenciled down its belly. I nod to Finian and engage my thrusters, a digital count ticking down on our HUDs. The Zero weaves and rolls, drawing ever closer, the tug growing in size until it is all I can see.
My lips are still tingling from where she kissed them.
“Now,” I say.
The Zero banks away from the lead tug just as we kick free of the airlock, and I feel the heat of her engines as she roars silently overhead. The endless black around us is aflame, the rockets on our packs at full burn to slow us before we are pulped on the Totentanz’s flanks. I can see our target dead ahead—a tertiary airlock, just below the main thruster array. We speed out of the blackness, me in front, Finian close behind, and my heart is thunder in my chest.
I lean down, engage my magboots, bracing my knees for impact. My thrusters shudder as they burn, the rapid deceleration dragging my belly down into my feet. I hit the Totentanz’s flank hard and my right magboot slips free, but the other holds firm as I come to a bone-jarring halt just below the airlock door. I turn and grab for Finian as he comes in fast behind me. He hits hard, cursing loudly, and I seize hold of his suit as he almost bounces free. He flails, clutching at my arm, black eyes wide as the void around us yawns, but finally, he brings his boots down onto the hull.
“Are you well?” I ask.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, bent double, mouth agape.
“That,” he says, “was not my idea of a good time.”
“Report status!” Tyler says.
“We are secure,” I reply, searching the dark around us. I can see the massive hulks of the convoy streaming out behind us, catch sight of distant flashing fire as the Zero continues to elude its pursuers. “Preparing to breach.”
Finian’s fingers dance on his uniglass, his eyes narrowed on his screen.
“Quickly now,” I urge.
“You wanna hack this, Pixieboy, be my guest,” he snaps.
Every second seems an eon, every moment we spend is another the Hephaestus SOS travels farther. Every moment it speeds toward more ears: bounty hunters, the Terran Defense Force, the GIA, my sister.
But finally, with a small grin of triumph, Finian looks up at me and nods. I feel a series of heavy clunks run through the metal, and I reach down and take hold of the hatchway. I strain, veins corded in my neck as I drag the airlock wide enough for Finian to squeeze inside. I follow swiftly, slamming the hatch shut behind us. Our Gearhead is already working on the inner hatchway as the airlock repressurizes, gravity and volume returning with a vengeance, red globes flashing, alarms screaming.
“They know we are here,” I say.
“We just breached their enviro systems and opened their ship into space—of course they know we’re here!”
“Keep your head down,” I tell him. “And stay behind me.”
The inner hatchway clunks, the door slides open with a soft hum, and immediately a burst of disruptor fire sprays into the airlock. I push Finian out of sight against one wall, take cover behind the hatch as the charged particles sizzle and flare. Another burst blackens the metal close by my head, setting my blood thrumming.
“Are you people insane?” comes a shout.
“Get the hells off my ship!” cries another.
The Enemy Within is close to the surface now. Swimming just below my skin.
These are not warriors, he whispers.
These are worms.
I wait until there is a pause in fire, poke my head around the doorway and back again. I count six men in a blink. All armed. No armor. Half cover.
Break them.
I step out into the hallway, and they rise from concealment to open fire. I weave aside from their volleys, feel a burst of charged particles burn past my cheek, all the universe moving in slow motion. And with six taps of my trigger, six short blasts from my disruptor
rifle, all are lying senseless and drooling on the floor.
It is over. Almost before it began.
You should have killed them, he whispers.
Mercy is the province of cowards, Kaliis.
“Holy crap,” Finian whispers, peering out from cover. “That was…”
“Disappointing,” I say. “Come. We must be swift.”
Leaping over the fallen crew, we run on toward the bridge.
So this captain’s idea to send everyone he had was obviously a mistake, given that Kal left them sprawled in the loading bay like a bunch of cadets on shore leave.
I mean, I’ve heard that’s what happens on shore leave.
Obviously, I am personally a model of academy standards at all times.
Nevertheless, with the entire crew of the Totentanz consigned to dreamland for now, the tug is under the official control of Squad 312, and the mission is proceeding exactly according to plan. Which always makes me nervous. Of course things are still a bit exciting for Tyler and the gang outside, and there is the small question of how in the Maker’s name we’re going to get back to the Zero without being vaporized, but as my second mother always says, one thing at a time.
We’re up on the bridge, and I’m busy romancing the Hadfield’s black box (which I note with satisfaction is orange) and watching Kal out of the corner of my eye. If concealing a crush on Scarlett Isobel Jones wasn’t a full-time job, I would seriously consider adding him to the daydream roster. I get what Auri sees in him. Strong, silent, broody. All that good stuff.
He catches me looking at him and raises one perfect eyebrow.
“How long until your task is complete?” he asks, completely unromantically.
“I’m working on it, big guy,” I tell him. And so I am. I’m coaxing a stream of data from the orange crate on the floor onto my uniglass, murmuring sweet nothings to hurry it along. The salvage team carved the flight recorder out of the poor old Hadfield pretty neatly, but still, it’s a little creepy, just sitting there on the cockpit floor. You know, thinking about what kind of situation it was built for and all…
