by Amie Kaufman
“You look rough,” I tell her.
Her tone is dry. “You, on the other hand, look dapper as ever.”
I use my free hand to smooth back my hair, which instantly springs up into the disastrous mess it was before. “Hug?”
She hesitates, then nods, just the tiniest jerk of her head. So I pull her in and wrap my arms around her. I’m the kind of leggy you get when you spend too much time in zero gee growing up, and she tucks in under my chin just perfectly. My suit probably sticks into her in a couple of places, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
And for a long moment, we just stand there together, her arms around my waist, her cheek on my shoulder, my chin resting on her hair.
When I look up, Zila’s watching us. I wonder what she makes of us all sometimes. How long it’s been since someone hugged her. If anyone ever has.
As we head down the hallway, Aurora lifts one hand to trail it over the closed door to Ty’s room, glancing at it as if she can see right through it, see our missing Alpha inside. She heard it said over and over as we left him behind—Aurora’s the priority, keep her safe. So she’s carrying that with her, as well as the knowledge that everything rests on a power she can’t control. A power that scares her.
“Sleep well, Stowaway,” I tell her as her door hums closed behind her. And then, with a soft sigh, I turn away from my own quarters and toward the infirmary, where my next challenge waits.
The lights in there are dim, and Kal’s resting on a bio-cot, a medi-wrap across one shoulder. He’s bare chested, bruises blossoming across his skin, turned black and gray by the Fold. But the sight of Kaliis Idraban Gilwraeth with no shirt on, even all beat up, makes me want to thank my Maker I’ve lived to see this moment. He’s beautiful. Those sculpted lines and that solid muscle and—I mean, he’s got an eight-pack, and that stupid V that leads down to disappear (tragically) below his belt, both of which are meant to be creatures of myth and legend.
Swoon.
Lucky Auri.
“Is something amiss, Finian?”
I startle when I realize he’s looking right at me, and snap my mouth shut. “Just checking in,” I tell him, sauntering closer and nodding at his biceps. “You got a license for these weapons, sir?”
His brows crowd together in handsome confusion. “I am proficient in weaponry that…” But he trails off, because he can tell he’s missed the point.
“Never mind,” I tell him. “I’ve got a question.”
He somehow knows to be wary, turning to get a better look at me. “Ask.”
“Back on the tug,” I say, gesturing to the spot over his heart where the bruises are blackest, “once I found out the cigarillo case had blocked that Kill shot, and once I stopped thanking the Maker you were alive, I realized I could open the thing.”
Our Tank’s interest sharpens. “I take it you did.”
“I did,” I confirm. “And I still can’t figure it out, Kal. There was a note inside it. A note in my handwriting. A note I am absolutely positive I have never written.”
He returns to the handsome frown. “And what did it say?”
“It said, ‘Tell her the truth.’ ” I’m watching him keenly now. “Do you know what that means?”
He shakes his head a fraction. “I do not,” he replies.
“Because we can’t afford for anyone to be keeping anything from anyone else right now,” I continue. “If there’s something you’re not telling Auri, or Scar, or Zila, or even your crazy sister, I get it, but now’s the time, Kal.”
His expression frosts over. “Perhaps the note was for you. You believe you were the one who wrote it. And you were the one who read it.”
“But it was your gift,” I point out.
“And yet I cannot answer your question.”
I have absolutely no idea if he’s being straight with me. He might as well be Zila, for all I can read of him right now. After a long pause, I sigh.
“You need anything?”
“No.”
“Well, Zila has the bridge,” I tell him. “Holler if you’re in trouble.”
“Del’nai, friend.”
As I make my way to my quarters, I’m racking my brain for any kind of secret I could be keeping. Anything the note might have meant for me. Apart from not telling Scar that I’d crawl over cut glass for a date with her if we both survive this thing, I’m drawing a blank. And the note—however the hells it happened—seems like a huge amount of effort to go to for an unrequited crush.
The door hums closed behind me, and I hit the button for the gravity release. I’m still thinking as the soft countdown completes and the pressure on my body eases. I have no answers.
In fact, as I shed my suit and push off the ground to curl into a ball for sleep, I have nothing but questions.
* * *
• • • • •
A soft chime wakes me, and as I stretch slowly, I revel in how much better I feel—my sore muscles have unlocked, and my body likes me again.
Then I remember that Ty’s a GIA prisoner, the galaxy’s poised on the edge of war, and Squad 312 has no idea what to do to stop it all.
Aaaaaand that brings me down with a thud.
The chime’s followed up by Scar’s voice over the intercom.
“Good morning, you incredibly good-looking people. It’s 08:00 shipboard time; we’re sixty minutes from our destination. I’ll see you on the bridge when you’ve risen from sleep and made yourselves even more beautiful. If that’s possible.”
I shed my uniform and, with a gentle touch against the ceiling, send myself sailing over to the corner where the hydrosonic shower’s located. I activate the force field that’ll keep the rest of the room dry, close my eyes in pleasure as the nozzles in the wall emit a gentle mist, and let the sonic part of the shower do the rest, the vibrations combining with the moisture to scrub away the dirt, sweat, and panic of the last couple of days. My grandparents had pretty much the same unit on the station where they lived, and though at first I thought it was bizarre—on Trask, water’s in no short supply—these days I appreciate the fact that it really gets you clean.
After a few minutes, I reluctantly shut it off, then find a fresh uniform. When I slip into my suit and run a diagnostic, it’s in miraculously good condition.
I make my way out to the bridge, feeling the usual settling that comes with full gee—everything protesting a little bit at the extra work. I find my squadmates seated around their consoles, eating breakfast. Auri slides a foil pack down the table to me, and I inspect the label, then wish I hadn’t. I don’t know what Brunchtime Savory Mix!!TM is, but I’m pretty sure the extra information isn’t going to help me feel better about it.
I glance at Scarlett, shaking my breakfast to warm it up. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”
She winks. “Some of us need less beauty sleep than others.”
“Any news?” I smile.
“There are official statements out from Terra, Trask, and several nearby systems. Nobody wants a war. Everybody knows they might not get a vote. The Unbroken haven’t said anything yet, but their fleet is still mobilizing, and it’s looking huge.”
That adds a grim note to breakfast. Kal in particular looks troubled. We finish eating, and Zila and I settle in to find whatever it is we’re actually looking for.
“Compensating for drift over the last century,” I report, “we should be on-site now, plus or minus a thousand klicks.”
“Scanning now,” Zila says to her screen.
“Processing data,” I murmur as it begins to flow through to me. It takes less than two minutes before something jumps out from the rest. “Is that…?”
“Confirm,” Zila says, turning from her console to the pilot’s controls. “Unidentified object detected. Altering course.”
I grin at the others. “Pick
ed it to within thirty-seven klicks, my friends!”
This announcement of unmatched prowess is met with polite nods.
“Oh, come on,” I protest. “This is like finding…what do you dirtchildren say? A beetle in a haystack?”
Auri giggles. “A needle.”
“Well, even smaller, then. And in this case, whatever a haystack is, it would take about a day to walk across it. And I just led us straight to our destination.”
“A commendable effort,” Zila says without turning her head.
“High praise,” Scarlett says, trying to hide her smile.
“Is it dangerous?” Kal asks.
I shake my head. “It’s got almost zero energy signature. Looks totally inert. We were lucky to even find it out here, to be honest.”
“Kal, how’s your shoulder?” Scarlett asks.
“Well enough,” he reports. “You wish me to prepare the docking bay?”
Scar leans back and chews her lip, a small frown on her brow.
“Yeah. Let’s bring this thing aboard and see what we can learn.”
* * *
• • • • •
We can view the docking bay through a plasteel porthole, and we all cluster around it to peer at the object Kal has tractored inside. It’s teardrop-shaped, about half as tall as me. It appears made of…crystal, maybe? It’s cut like a piece of jewelry, a thousand facets, brilliant light dancing on its surface. There aren’t any other markings or details to be seen.
It settles as the rear doors close and the bay starts to equalize, somehow staying upright, floating a few centimeters above the deck.
“That’s it?” Aurora asks, saying what at least most of us are thinking.
“That’s it,” I reply.
“Do you sense anything from it, be’shmai?” Kal asks.
Auri frowns in concentration but finally shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“It’s kind of small,” Scarlett adds, peering at it.
“Your point being…?”
There’s a long pause. As one, we all look around, then down. Those words just came from Zila, our smallest squad member. Was that…
Did she just make a joke?
“I CONCUR WITH LEGIONNAIRE MADRAN!” says a tiny, chirpy voice in Aurora’s pocket. “SIZE ISN’T USUALLY AN INDICATOR OF PERFORMANCE.”
“Hush, Magellan,” Auri murmurs.
“YOU KNOW, I SHOULD PROBABLY POINT OUT AGAIN THAT I’M THREE TIMES SMARTER THAN ANY OF YOU, AND YOU’RE CONSTANTLY TELLING ME TO BE QU—”
“Silent mode,” Scarlett orders.
“HUMANS,” comes a muttered complaint before the uni shuts up.
“…Can we go in there and take a look at it?” Auri asks.
“That is not advisable,” Zila replies, busy at the docking bay enviro controls. “The external temperature is minus 270.45 degrees Celsius.”
“Maker’s breath,” I say, looking over specs. “What is this thing made of?”
“It is defying our scanner’s ability to analyze its molecular structure,” Zila says, eyes roaming the data. “But I am detecting no harmful radiation or microbes. I will attempt to increase the object’s temperature. Please stand by.”
We all wait impatiently until, eventually, a lifetime later, Zila nods. It looks like everything is okay for us to enter. Kal punches the door control, and we move cautiously inside, crowding around it, pulling out our uniglasses. The thing is giving off zero energy. Apart from the fact that it’s physically present, there’s no way to tell if it’s broadcasting, if it has a power source internally, or what it’s for. Still, it’s a place to start, so we begin our analysis.
Except for Aurora. She doesn’t pull out Magellan. Instead, she stares at the thing as if she’s in a trance. And then, unblinking, but with a faint hint of a smile, she reaches out to curve her hand across its surface.
“I’M NOT SURE THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA, BOSS …,” Magellan says.
“Aurora?” Kal asks.
Her fingers touch the surface.
Her uniglass makes a spitting, popping sound.
And she collapses at my feet.
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I’ve never seen a view this beautiful in my life.
Back on Earth, there were no stretches of green like this left. On Octavia, there were endless swaths of wild land, but I never saw them in person—not until they were covered by the creeping Ra’haam. But this place is different to both of them.
Almost as far as the eye can see, it’s lush, flawless garden. Waterfalls of flowers tumble down gentle hills. Sprays of red blossoms hang from the trees. It’s an endless parade of blooms and plants, each more exquisite than the last, each different from those that went before.
As the landscape stretches—no, soars—away from me, my eyes don’t know where to settle. This place would make Eden look dull. Everything is brilliantly clear, the air crisp, the temperature perfect. On the horizon is some sort of city, tall spires of crystal stretching up toward a glorious, golden sky.
But the thing that strikes me most is the incredible sense of well-being. It’s like I’m drunk on the sunshine, on the purest air I’ve ever breathed. I don’t think I’ve spent a moment since I woke up on Aurora Station feeling anything less than tired and scared, and the lifting of that weight makes me feel like I could leap one of those distant crystal spires in a single bound.
Lacking anything else to do, I set out toward them. They’re a landmark, after all—maybe I’ll find something there that will explain to me where I am. I know I should be more worried, but it’s somehow impossible to muster any concern.
There are no paths, but the grass is short and easy to walk across. I make my way down into a valley with a spring in my step, walking along a field of waist-high blue flowers. I trail one hand along them as I move past, and they bob and bow, turning their faces to follow me.
It’s a little hard to judge time, but it feels like I’ve been walking for hours when I spot the figure. It’s quite close—I wonder how I didn’t see it sooner—and although it’s human-shaped, it’s most certainly not a human.
It doesn’t hurt my eyes, but I can’t quite look directly at it. It’s a creature of light and crystal, a golden glow and a myriad of refracting rainbows inside its shape. It has three fingers on each hand, and I realize that its right eye is white and aglow, just like mine. But though it’s one of the strangest creatures I’ve ever seen—and I’ve been to a Casseldon Bianchi party—I feel no fear at all. Instead, I continue on my way to meet it, and I’m not surprised when it greets me.
The words are like music, but I don’t think I hear them out loud. They just sort of…arrive in my head.
Greetings, it says. Welcome to the Echo. I am the Eshvaren.
“The Eshvaren?” I parrot back at it, like an idiot. “I thought you were a whole species, not just one, uh…” I look its shimmering body up and down. “Person?”
It gives me a tiny bow.
I am a gathering of wisdom. A memory of many. Just as this place is the memory of our homeworld. An echo of a place that once was.
I have no idea of the proper response to that, but I figure I can’t go wrong returning the greeting. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Aurora Jie-Lin O’Malley.”
You are a Trigger, it replies, with a hint of ceremony.
“Yes, that’s right!” Eagerness wells up inside me, and I step closer. “And if you’re the Eshvaren, you can tell me what that means.”
It offers me another one of its little bows. To be a Trigger means you have choices ahead, Aurora Jie-Lin O’Malley.
It raises its arms and then simply pushes off, rising above the ground as though it’s in zero gravity.
I stare up at it in confusion as it
hovers a few meters above my head.
Come, it says patiently. Join me.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I guess? Feeling ridiculous, I bend at the knees and push off as if I’m about to jump. But instead, completely effortlessly, I rise from the ground. And no sooner do I throw my arms out, wondering how I’m supposed to stop, than I’ve done exactly that. There’s just the faintest texture to the air—nothing as thick as water, but what I’m doing still feels a little like swimming.
With another kick I’m soaring again, arms wide, laughter welling up inside me as the landscape spreads out beneath me. This is like the best part of every flying dream I’ve ever had. This is, for an instant, like being back at home, back in time, rocketing along the running track and knowing I’m out in front of everyone else.
This is pure joy.
A second quick kick spins me into a somersault, and I tumble through a loop-the-loop, whooping my glee. The Eshvaren hovers in far more dignified style, watching me get it all out of my system.
Follow, it finally tells me.
Together we soar across the beauty that stretches out below us. Great valleys are joined by soft, rolling hills, their golden-green grass giving way to masses of blue and purple flowers that sway in the breeze, to red fields that ripple as we pass overhead. Silver rivers cut through them, twisting and winding, doubling back on themselves, and the crystal city beckons me as we turn toward it.
Once again the Eshvaren speaks, and I can hear it despite the wind.
This place is the Echo of a time long ago. A time when we lived. Before we fought the Ra’haam. You know of the Great Enemy?
“Yes,” I say, glancing across at it. “Yeah, we’ve met.”
Then you know it believes in the power of the many as one. In the sacrifice of individuality for the sake of harmony.
“I do.”
A question pushes forward in my mind, and though I know this might not be the time or place for it, I have to ask. I’m thinking of my father. Of Cat. Of the other colonists pulled into its embrace, their eyes blooming blue, moss creeping across their skin, hiding themselves inside the uniforms of GIA agents to prevent others from approaching Octavia and disturbing the cradle where the Ra’haam sleeps.
