by Amie Kaufman
He is clad in black armor with a high collar, and a long cloak is arrayed around his shoulders, spilling down over the steps below him in a crimson train. His hair is silver-bright, woven into ten braids and draped in long, thick waves over one side of his face. And that face is all I remember and more. Beautiful. Terrible. Radiating a dark majesty. He watches, impassive, as I climb the dais, the power around me thickening, my footsteps ringing hollow in the vast crystal sphere, the gravity of him drawing me in. Drawing me back.
Everything is a cycle. An endless circle.
Everything has led to this.
I stand before him.
“Father,” I say.
“Son,” he replies.
And then, finally, I kneel.
Kal…
Saedii just stares at me. The revelation about her brother, their father—who and what he is—it’s almost too much for me to wrap my head around. This entire conversation has happened at the speed of thought. It’s maybe been ten minutes since it began. But it feels long as a lifetime.
I thought of Kal as a friend. Someone I could trust. Steady and strong and sure. Even when I’d been torn away from the squad, it was easier to deal with—knowing he’d be there to look after them. But to find out he’s the son of the man who killed my dad, that he was lying to us this whole time…
I will follow you, Brother, he told me.
Some brother…
But I push the hurt, the betrayal aside. Focusing on the problem I can actually do something about. The galaxy is still on the threshold of war. The TDF and the Unbroken could already be tearing each other to pieces. But if everything Saedii just told me is true, if the Weapon the Starslayer used to destroy the Syldrathi sun…
What did you call it again? I ask Saedii.
My father named it Neridaa, she replies.
I shake my head.
My Syldrathi isn’t as polished as Scar’s.
Saedii sneers. Your boots are better polished than your Syldrathi.
I peer mournfully down at the kicks I got from the Emerald City vault. They’re scuffed, beaten, bloodstained. I’d kill for a tin of polish, honestly.
Wow, that’s cold, lady.
Saedii raises one eyebrow ever so slightly. It’s kind of amazing how much she can pack into a simple gesture like that. Amusement. Disdain. Arrogance. Smug superiority. Scar could take lessons from this girl.
Neridaa is a difficult concept to translate into your crude Terran tongue.
Let’s leave my Terran tongue out of this, shall we?
The eyebrow rises higher. The word describes…paradox. A state of beginning and ending. The act of destroying and creating.
And you’re certain this ship is the Eshvaren Weapon?
I feel a tiny sliver of fear, far in the back of her mind.
I am certain of nothing. My father keeps his own counsel. And I was not present when he discovered the first relic.
…What relic? I ask.
A probe of some kind. Three years ago. I was already a Templar by then, serving aboard Andarael. Fighting our war against the traitors on the Council of Syldra. But I was alerted via a panicked transmission from my father’s flagship after they discovered an object drifting in the Fold. Apparently, my father had…dreamed of it. He told his science division that it had called to him. And when they brought it aboard, he touched it and fell unmoving to the deck.
Saedii shakes her head.
I had his science staff all thrown to the drakkan for it. The fools. The object they had found was crystal. Denying all analysis of its structure. My father lay on the deck beside it. Nothing we did could rouse him. I thought it was all about to come undone. After everything we had sacrificed, our Archon had been laid low by a freak encounter with some ancient curio in interdimensional space? It seemed a cruel ending to our song.
But eighteen hours later, my father woke, as if from deepest sleep. Crackling with some new power. I was almost weeping with relief. I asked him what had happened, and he looked at me like I was a stranger. Then he commanded the helm to plot a new course. A rift in the Fold, leading us to a long-dead world. And from there to the Weapon that won our war, ended the treachery of the Syldra council forever, and wrote his name, bloody and beautiful, among the stars.
I look at Saedii, utterly bewildered.
You didn’t ask him about it? None of you wondered how he knew it was there, or raised an eyebrow that a weapon capable of destroying entire star systems had just been left lying around? Didn’t you wonder what it was for?
Saedii sneers.
Of course we wondered. But he was our Archon, Tyler Jones. We his Templars, his Paladins, his adepts. Loyal to the death. The Syldrathi civil war had been raging since the Orion attack. And finally he led us to victory against the curs and cowards who had so shamed us—the Weavers and Watchers and Workers so keen to bend the knee and sign your father’s accursed peace.
I shake my head. Is peace such a horrible thing?
It is through conflict we attain perfection, Tyler Jones. The blade grows dull when it sleeps in its scabbard. Sharp when pressed against the stone.
Saedii glowers at me, eyes flashing. I can see…no, feel the conviction in her. The flame burning in her chest. War is more than a way of life for this girl. It’s a religion. And the awful thing is, I can see a kind of truth in what she says—it is through challenging ourselves that we grow stronger, better, more.
But it’s not the whole truth.
I’m not afraid to fight, I tell her. But it’s always been for something. Family. Faith. Maker, even peace itself. Fighting for the sake of fighting—
I was born for war, Tyler Jones, she tells me, those perfect brows drawn together in a perfect frown. And if you are worthy of the Syldrathi blood within you, you had best become acquainted with that notion. Because we will need to carve our way off this vessel if we mean to escape. We must paint this ship red.
We’re Folding. Everything is black and white.
Her face sours. Ah. That wonderful Terran sarcasm.
I shake my head, jaw clenched. These people are following orders. They’re soldiers doing their jobs. The Ra’haam is the enemy here. The GIA, not the TDF.
They tortured me.
You murdered their friends!
That makes it right in your eyes?
I breathe deep. Looking over the bruises on her face. She knew how I’d answer that question before she ever asked it.
No, it doesn’t. But my father taught me that to be a leader, you have to set the example. To be a leader, you have to be the kind of person you’d want to follow you.
Yes, she hisses, sitting up taller. A warrior. Unconquered and unafraid.
No. Better. We need to be better than the enemy we fight. The Ra’haam wants us to tear each other to pieces. It wants us at each other’s throats. All it needs to do is stall here. To sow chaos and confusion long enough for it to hatch from those seed worlds and then out into the Fold.
Saedii crosses her arms, shaking the hair from her eyes.
I know not if my father understands the purpose of the Weapon he has claimed. But we must get off this ship and warn him of this greater enemy. We are Unbroken. We are no one’s pawns. To say he will be displeased at being manipulated is an understatement.
Displeased enough to still blow up my planet even if we get you back to him?
Her stare narrows at that.
If I am returned, Earth will be spared. Believe me when I say, Tyler Jones, my father has no wish to use the Neridaa unless he has to.
He seemed pretty eager to use it on Syldra.
That was a matter of honor. It was also the first time he unleashed the Weapon’s full potential. He will not be in a hurry to do so again.
…Why not?
Saedii stares at me, cold and calculating.
I can see her suspicion fighting with her instinct. She knows we have to trust each other. And all this is far bigger than she first believed. But still, it’s a long time before she answers.
My father paid a price when he used the Weapon, Tyler Jones.
What price?
I was not with him when it fired…. She shakes her head. But even aboard Andarael, six thousand kilometers off the Neridaa’s stern, I felt it. As if the essence were being drawn from me like water into a sponge. And my father stood at the Weapon’s heart when it was unleashed.
You mean it…drained him? Like a battery?
She just shrugs. It took him many cycles to recover.
So he can’t just go around firing this thing on a whim. Are you saying his threat to destroy Earth is just a bluff?
Oh no. My father is as ruthless a man as ever walked the stars. If I am not returned to him, he will make a desolation of your home. He has taken steps to ensure that the next time he is forced to use Neridaa, the drain will be lessened. A battery of his own, so to speak.
For a moment, I sense a small shiver run through her.
But he will not waste it unless he is forced to. I must return to him.
I tilt my head and meet her eyes. Well, you’re just as much a tactician as I am. Do you see any way out of this cell? Let alone down to the docking bay?
When the guards enter to feed us. We overpower them. Take their weapons.
That assumes they’re going to feed us at all, I point out.
Then I will pretend my injuries are worse than they are. Hold my stomach. Collapse. When they send medical personnel and security, we strike.
Feign weakness, I nod. Yeah, I thought of that. But they send these boys in packs of six, in case you missed it.
I most certainly did not, she glowers.
So even presuming we overpower half a dozen fully armed and armored TDF marines, that camera above the door will flag us as soon as we jump them. The whole ship will be locked down before we get off this level.
Perhaps you would care to make a suggestion instead of criticizing mine.
Hey, don’t get snippy with me, missy.
Saedii’s glower grows hot enough to burn through the cell door.
Do you refer to all females you wish to insult as “missy,” boy?
Only the ones who call me “boy,” missy.
I look around the cell, sucking my lip. I’ve studied TDF ships since I was a kid. Good news is, if we can get out of this cell, I know exactly how to get down to the landing bays. Bad news is, I also know exactly how these cells are constructed, and how impossible they are to break out of.
I cast my eyes over the wreckage of the bio-cot I smashed during my little temper tantrum. My stare roams to the sprinkler system above. The tiny, narrow grilles leading into the ventilation systems. I conjure up plans, then discard them just as quick.
We’ve got no edge here at all.
Well? Saedii demands. Impress me.
I can feel myself getting frustrated again. The thought of everything that could be happening out there while we’re stuck in here is derailing me. I feel helpless. Useless. I breathe deep, clenching and unclenching my fists. My mind racing. I know no jail cell is perfect. There’s no problem that’s unsolvable. Somewhere, somehow, there’s a key to be found here. I just need to know where to look.
You are not impressing me, Tyler Jones.
Stop. You’re breaking my heart.
I could pluck it from between your ribs and put it back together, if you like?
Shut up and let me think, will you?
Saedii sighs and rises from her cot. Raising her arms above her head, long black hair cascading down her back in waves, she stretches like a cat and begins pacing the cell despite her injuries.
That isn’t helping, I tell her.
It helps me to think.
I close my eyes and sigh. Look, I understand the seriousness of our situation, but you do realize that stalking up and down in front of me in your underwear might not be entirely conducive to clarity of thought?
Saedii throws me a withering glance and kicks a large chunk of the wrecked bio-cot in my direction. I stop it with my boot heel before it can crash into my legs.
Grow up, she tells me.
I kick the wreckage away from me.
“Up” is exactly the situation I’m trying to avoid.
Saedii rolls her eyes, does one more lap of the cell, then twists on the spot and sinks back down onto her cot. I pout, looking at the wreckage she kicked at me, picking the glass splinters out of the treads of my boot. Scowling at the new scuffs on the leather. Maker’s breath, these things really need a coat of polish and a—
Click.
I blink. Glance up at the camera lens and away again just as quickly. I shift to sit cross-legged, hunching so the arc of my shoulder hides my feet from the camera. I look down at my boots again. These boots that were waiting for me in that Emerald City deposit box for eight years. These boots Admiral Adams and Battle Leader de Stoy wanted me to have. Slow as I can move, I reach down and press the small crack that’s appeared in the heel.
I see a metallic glint in the hidden compartment inside.
Saedii catches the shift in my mood. Studiously looks away from me as her voice slips back into my head.
What is it? she asks.
For the first time in a long time, I almost smile.
Something impressive, I tell her.
The Starslayer’s fleet is bigger than any of us dreamed. The black-and-white landscape of the Fold is teeming with Syldrathi ships. They swarm around the mouth of the FoldGate that leads to Terra, crossing each other’s paths with only meters to spare. Somewhere between a flawless display of intricate choreography and a battle-fleet-sized game of chicken.
We have arrived at the very edge of the pack as the fleet continues to muster, hiding among the flood of late arrivals and taking stock. I am piloting, and Scarlett and Finian are strapped into their seats at the auxiliary stations behind me. Aurora stands by my side like a hound ready for the hunt, almost quivering as she points in the direction of her prey.
She is nothing like herself, her gaze locked in the direction of the Weapon, obscured despite its size behind the mass of vessels the Archon commands. It’s as though the Aurora we know has departed, leaving behind her shell to be inhabited by this new predator, all purpose.
As I begin to weave my way through the fleet, I wonder if it even registers in her mind that the man we are approaching is Kal’s father.
Kal, whom she loved.
For my part, I learned my lesson long ago. Open your heart to anyone, and it will end badly. They will betray you, as Miriam did, willing to trade the whereabouts of a six-year-old for her own safety. Or they will leave you, as my parents did, unable to keep our family safe. Cold and dead and left behind, with me thrown into the governmental care system, alone as I had never been.
Open your heart to anyone, and they will betray you, or abandon you.
Now Cat, Tyler, and Kaliis have taught me that lesson all over again.
Soon Aurora will join them.
I know it would be better to withdraw to my former state, but…despite my wishes, I do not feel nothing.
It seems I have lost the knack of it.
I ease around the stern of a battle cruiser, and behind me Scarlett murmurs a translation of its name. “Belzhora. ‘Drinker of Blood.’ ”
There is something surreal, ghostly, about the fleet we are now a part of. The silence is perfect, broken only by the soft hum of our ship’s drives. I have never encountered so much violent potential in one place. Like a coiled spring waiting to unload. Like a warrior watching for the first blink from their opponent.
“What are they all waiting for?” Fin asks.
“Perhaps the Terrans sti
ll seek to negotiate,” I suggest quietly.
“They’re about to run out of time on Caersan’s clock,” Scarlett replies.
And then the Unbroken ships part, and we see it. A gleaming wonder amid the muted black and white, a rainbow of refracted crystal and endless color. Impossible color. It shouldn’t be visible in the Fold.
“It looks like a chandelier and a telescope had a baby,” Fin says, trying to find some way to cut the tension singing through our small ship. He is whistling in the dark, trying to defy its might. But we are all staring at the vessel, all intimidated by it, except for Aurora. It breaks every rule, it radiates power, and we know it.
The Weapon.
I force myself to make a practical observation. “There is a clear perimeter around it. Approaching it will be difficult. We will be seen.”
Aurora shifts her weight beside me. “That won’t be a problem for long.”
So far she has been quiet, utterly focused, but now I begin to see that silence for what it was—a fuse slowly burning toward the explosives that wait at its end. She crackles with power, with intent, with absolute determination.
I do not want her to be on our shuttle when the spark reaches its destination.
“Options?” asks Scarlett, leaning forward to squint at the ship.
“Two,” Fin replies. “If we need to get Auri aboard, then either we make our approach less obvious or we create a distraction.”
“A distraction could be fatal,” I point out.
There is a short silence. This mission will be fatal anyway, we all know that. But what I mean is that it must not be fatal too soon.
“I hate to suggest this,” Finian begins. “But if we wait long enough, they’re gonna jump into the Terran system and we’ll have all the distraction we need.”
“That will likely result in a massive loss of Terran and Syldrathi life once the TDF engages the Unbroken fleet,” I point out.
“I didn’t say it was a perfect plan,” Finian shrugs. “I’m not the strategy guy. I have a deep suspicion I only passed first-year tactics because the instructor didn’t want me back in class the next…”
Finian’s joke trails off into silence as he realizes what he has done.
