by Amie Kaufman
Scarlett J: Wait, what’s Aurora got to do with this?
Zila M: Consider it logically. How is it that a TDF destroyer just happened to be within range when we sent our distress call?
Cat B: I told you Shamrock would bring us luck.
Finian dS: Didn’t you hear, Legionnaire Madran? *spooky voice* The Global Intelligence Agency has one thousand eyes donchewknow.
Zila M: They were pursuing us. It is the only explanation for their proximity. Aurora said she was told to stow aboard our Longbow by Battle Leader de Stoy. De Stoy wanted Aurora with us, away from the GIA.
Cat B: Bollocks. O’Malley’s spent WAY too much time in the Fold. She’s gone all the way sideways.
Zila M: Consider de Stoy’s words to us. “The cargo you carry is more precious than any of you can know.” The supply run to Sagan was not our mission. Our mission was to get Aurora O’Malley away from the academy before the GIA arrived to take her back to Terra.
Finian dS: They’ve got no faces.
Cat B : Maker’s breath, Finian, have you snapped, too?
Finian dS: Screw you, Cat.
Cat B: I’d rather screw the Great Ultrasaur of Abraaxis IV, thanks.
Tyler J: KNOCK IT OFF. FIN, EXPLAIN.
Finian dS: Aurora said that to me, right before the GIA arrived. “They’ve got no faces.” And she muttered something about wiping this clean. Painting it black.
Zila M: Which the faceless GIA are doing right now. Aurora also claimed to have seen Kal in a vision before she ever met him.
Cat B: BECAUSE THE FOLD HAS MESSED WITH HER BRAINMEATS.
Kal G: This will sound like madness. But in the cargo bay, when Aedra attacked me, Aurora threw her into the wall without ever touching her.
Finian dS: Are you joking?
Kal G: I swear it on the spirits of the Void. Her right eye was glowing so brightly it hurt to look at. And after the battle, it had changed color.
Scar and I look at each other then. I can see skepticism in her bright blue stare.
But Auri’s eye did change color.
Tyler J: Listen, I didn’t mention this on my report because I didn’t really want to believe it myself. But when I first rescued Aurora on the Hadfield, I think she
Tyler J: Well, she moved me.
Scarlett J: Moved you? Like in a love song way moved you?
Cat B: Oh, spare me.
Tyler J: Like I was on the verge of passing out two hundred meters from my Phantom. And suddenly, we were right outside the airlock.
Zila M: Telekinesis. Precognition. Interesting.
Cat B: This is totally bloody sideways. …
Scarlett J: I’m afraid I must concur with my punchy but learned colleague.
Cat B: Thanks, roomie.
Scarlett J: All good, girl. You’ve still got my eyeliner btw.
Zila M: It is common knowledge that prolonged Fold exposure exerts extreme mental duress on travelers. I’d remind you that Aurora was drifting in it for over two centuries. Nobody has ever survived that kind of exposure before.
Finian dS: So what do the GIA want with her?
Zila M: An excellent question. But I think the far more pressing concern is our imminent and no doubt brutal murders at the hands of their operatives.
Finian dS: I admit that Princess guy didn’t seem like a barrel of chuckles.
Scarlett J: PrincePs. It’s Latin. Means “first among equals.”
Zila M: I did not know you spoke Latin, Legionnaire Jones.
Finian dS: What in the Maker’s name is Latin?
Cat B: Look, this still makes no bloody sense. If they want us dead, why didn’t they just flatline us on the station?
Zila M: Perhaps they wish to speak to Tyler about how he found Aurora? Or to ensure we have not passed her location on to anyone else? Whatever their reasons, unless we find a way off this ship, we will never leave it alive.
Tyler J: This is the Terran Defense Force you’re talking about.
Zila M: The Global Intelligence Agency is in command here, sir. The TDF is simply giving them a ride.
Tyler J: They’re still Terran! Maker’s sake, what are we supposed to do? Attack our own people?
Finian dS: As opposed to being executed by them?
A warning claxon sounds across the destroyer’s public address system, followed by a ship-wide announcement.
“All hands, prepare for Fold entry. T-minus fifteen seconds.”
The thrum of the engines shifts in tone, and each of us takes a breath. There’s a slow rush of vertigo, a brief sensation of weightlessness, and the colorscape shifts as the destroyer enters the FoldGate, everything around us dropping into black and white. I see my squad, looking to me for a decision.
Impossible as it sounds, Zila is making an awful kind of sense. The lives of people who depend on me are on the line here. And the consequences of not believing her—and being wrong—would be fatal.
Problem is, if the TDF really means to flatline us, the only way I can see out of this is fighting our way out, and that means fighting fellow Terrans. My dad was in the TDF before he became a senator. If the Aurora Legion didn’t exist, I’d probably be TDF myself.
I meet Scar’s stare, and she tilts her head just a fraction.
It’s a strange thing, being a twin. Dad told Scar and me that we invented our own language as little kids. Talking to each other in words nobody else could understand. Scar can tell me a story with a look. Write me a novel with a single raised eyebrow. And right now, I know exactly what she’s saying, without her ever saying a word.
Show the way, baby brother.
The door hisses open, and four TDF troopers march into the room, clad head to foot in tac armor, carrying disruptor rifles. The young lieutenant I spoke to in the Sagan station airlock is leading them, stopping to survey the puddle of water on the floor, my soaking uniform, one eyebrow raised behind her visor.
“All right, Legionnaire.” She smiles. “If you’ll come with us, we’ll debrief you and have you and your squad back at Aurora station in time for chow.”
I glance at Scar again, looking for her impressions. I’m not exaggerating when I say she can read people like books. It’s kinda scary sometimes. I haven’t been able to lie to her since we were five years old.
She looks the lieutenant up and down.
Glances at me.
Pouts.
Lying.
I can feel the tension around me. Cat’s hands in fists. Kal’s icy fury, staring at these soldiers who just murdered a hundred of his people but are acting like nothing’s wrong. I’m not sure how good Finian or Zila will be in a free-for-all, but there’s six of us, four of them, and if they think I’m the kind to just march to my own murder, they don’t know me too well.
I stand up with an easy smile, dimples on high beam.
“No problem, LT,” I say.
And I bury my elbow right into her throat.
Her tac armor absorbs most of the impact, but it’s enough to send her off balance. I kick her in the knee and she hits the ground, disruptor flying from her grip.
The room explodes into motion, the three TDF troopers aiming their weapons at my chest. Kal rises up behind one and stabs with outstretched fingers behind her ear, and the trooper drops like she’s been hit with a dose of Leirium rocksmoke. Cat tackles the third, wrestling for control of his rifle, and Scar hurls the empty water cooler bottle at the fourth’s head, sending him back into Finian, whose exosuit whines as he grabs him like a vise.
I snatch up the fallen lieutenant’s disruptor rifle, bring the butt down into her face, her helmet skewing crooked as the blow lands. We fall to wrestling, the LT knocking the rifle aside. She lands a knee in my crotch and the whole world burns white with the pain. Flipping me onto my back, she manages to draw her sidearm from her belt, raising it t
o my head.
A hand takes hold of her jaw and three fingers stab the side of her neck. With a sigh, the LT topples off me, eyes rolling back in her head. Above me stands Kal, violet eyes narrowed. Not a single silver hair is out of place on his head. He’s not even out of breath. Wincing at the ache in my groin, I look around the cell. The other three TDF troopers are scattered like broken toys.
They’re all out cold, I realize. Battered and bloodied, bones broken. Scar, Cat, and Finian are looking at our Tank, half-awed, half-terrified, all silent.
“I don’t want you to think this means I like you, Kal,” Cat finally says. “But okay. I’m officially impressed.”
“Did it just get hot in here, or is it me?” Scarlett asks.
“It’s not just you,” Finian mutters, fanning himself.
The Syldrathi offers his hand to me.
“We need to move, sir.”
I realize this is the first time Kal has offered to touch me since he slugged me back at the academy. And knowing it’s a big deal for a Syldrathi to allow themselves to be touched at all outside of combat, I figure I should accept the offer. I take his grip, and he hauls me to my feet. I’m trying not to look at the bleeding soldiers around me. The bleeding human soldiers. My mind is racing, looking for a way out of this.
We’re outnumbered a hundred to one. The GIA have Auri in custody. They have our Longbow locked down. But I’ve studied Terran space vessels since I was six—I know the layout of a destroyer backward. And though this pack of losers and discipline cases and sociopaths might’ve been the last picks on anyone’s mind during the Draft, turns out none of them are bad at their jobs. If I can hold this together, get us working as a team, we might even make it out of this alive. …
An alarm starts blaring, an announcement spilling over the PA.
“Security to detention cell 12a. Security to 12a immediately.”
“That’s for us,” Cat warns.
“Okay, listen up,” I say. “I’ve got a plan.”
•••••
“Fire alarm, level 12. Emergency crew to level 12 immediately.”
We’re marching toward the elevators with the alarms blaring when the first TDF squad finds us. They round the corner, disruptor rifles raised, laser sights cutting through the sprinkler system’s downpour. We’re still Folding, so the colorscape is still monochrome, the water spray is silver, the squad’s sergeant’s eyes are almost black.
“Don’t move!” he barks.
Scarlett steps forward, her lieutenant’s insignia gleaming on her collar, her fiery hair dulled to gray. My boots are too big, and I’m not bragging or anything, but the crotch in this tac armor just isn’t sitting right. Still, considering we stole these uniforms off four unconscious TDF troopers, we’re mostly pulling it off. Cat and Zila are skulking at the back, and Kal and Finian stand between us, mag-restraints around their wrists, looking appropriately cowed. Scarlett has more than enough swagger to fill in the gaps.
“We got two of ’em,” she barks. “The other four made it to the air vents. Get your squad up to thirteen, we’re taking these two to the brig!”
The squad’s sergeant frowns behind his visor. “The vents? We got t—”
“You get dropped on your head as baby, soldier?” Scarlett snaps. “I just gave you an order! Move your asses before I flush ’em into the Fold!”
Say what you will about the military, but Maker bless, they don’t teach you to think. They teach you to follow orders. No matter what uniform they’re wearing, Legion, TDF, whatever, when a lieutenant starts yelling at the average sergeant to jump, their only question is gonna be “How high?”
Fortunately for us, this sergeant seems kinda average.
“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” he barks, turning to his squad. “Level thirteen, move!”
The squad rushes past us. Scarlett starts yelling into her collar mic, demanding to know where the fire crews are at. We reach the turbolift, and I stab at the controls as the silver rain falls all around us, the lights flashing gray.
“Okay, Finian, how long before they get their cams back online?” I ask.
He glances down to his uniglass, shakes his head. “It was a pretty basic hack I threw in there. We’ve got about another minute, maybe two.”
“Right. Every security squad is on their way up here to level twelve. The docking bay is on five. Cat, you take Zila, Fin, and Kal down there and get the Longbow ready to launch. Quietly. If we’re not aboard in five minutes—”
“Ty, I’m not taking off without you,” Cat says.
“I was gonna say give us another five minutes, but no, you’re right, you should totally take off without me.”
“Where are you going?” Finian asks.
“Scar and I are gonna go get Aurora.”
“I am coming with you,” Kal says.
“No,” I snap. “You’re not. You stick out like a six-foot-eight pointy-eared sore thumb in here. Get to the docking bay. You might need to fight your way through.”
“You will definitely need to fight your way to Aurora,” Kal says, stepping forward. “And I am better at it than you.”
“I just gave you an order, Legionnaire,” I growl.
Kal tilts his head. “Please feel free to put me on report, sir.”
“For the love of … ,” Scar sighs. “Will you two just kiss and get it over with?”
“I mean, I could think of worse things to watch?” Finian says.
The lift arrives and the doors hiss open as the alarms continue to scream. I wonder what the big deal is. Why Kal is so keen on rescuing Aurora when he was such a jerk to her back on Sagan. But looking up into his eyes, I can tell he’s not going to budge unless I push, and Maker’s breath, we just don’t have the time.
“Scar, go with Cat. Five minutes, then you launch. That’s an order.”
Scarlett looks at me, blinking in the silver rain. “Yes sir.”
The four board the turbolift, and I look Cat in the eyes as the door hisses closed. I turn to glower at Kal, met with a stare hard as diamond.
“Priority prisoners will be in the brig down on eleven,” I say.
“Follow me,” the Syldrathi replies. “Sir.”
We dash to the stairwell, taking the steps four at a time to the level below. Marching out into the hallway, Kal walks in front, hands still held before him in the mag-restraints. I march behind, pointing my disruptor rifle at his back, hoping I look like a guard escorting his prisoner. A tech crew with fire-suppressant gear barrels right past us, followed close by a squad of TDF troopers. None of them spare us much more than a glance. The alarms are still blaring, the PA still shouting warning about the fire Zila set in the electrical conduits. I make a mental note to ask Fin exactly why he has a propane torch hidden in his exosuit, and what other surprises he has stashed in that thing.
Presuming we make it out of this alive, that is.
The brig is almost deserted—most of the troopers are upstairs looking for us. I see a hallway beyond the admissions area, lined with heavy doors. A junior officer is typing at a workstation, and a second sits behind the counter, shouting into a comms unit over the ship-wide alarm. He holds up one hand at me, signaling I should wait.
And then it starts.
It’s a weird prickling on the back of my neck at first. The air suddenly feels greasy—charged almost, like with static electricity. There’s a noise, above the thrum of the engines, below the shriek of the alarm. Almost …
Whispering?
I look to Kal, and from the slight frown on his face, I can tell he hears it, too. The brig officer blinks, looks in the direction of the holding cells.
Without warning, the lights flicker out, plunging us into darkness. The whisper gets louder, almost sharp enough to make out the words, and the room … vibrates. High-pitched screams sound out in the black, followed by a wet
crunching noise, and every holding cell door buckles simultaneously, titanium crumpling like paper.
Every display on every console dies.
The engines and alarms are suddenly silenced.
The dull illumination of emergency lighting kicks in overhead.
Terran destroyers have four separate reactors, a hundred fail-safes and a dozen different backup systems. But impossible as it is, I realize the entire ship has suddenly and completely lost power. The silence after all that noise is deafening, and I look down the hallway, wondering what on Earth is going on here. Spilling from beneath one of those crushed doors is a long, dark, gray slick of what can only be—
“Blood,” the brig officer whispers, reaching for his sidearm.
Kal takes his chance, sloughing off his mag-restraints and slamming them into the officer’s throat. The man falls back gasping, and Kal vaults the counter, strikes twice, and leaves him unconscious and bleeding on the floor. The junior officer turns with a shout, sidearm raised, and Kal has broken his wrist and his elbow and then knocked him senseless before I can squeeze my trigger.
The Syldrathi straightens, tossing his long braids back off his shoulders, his face as impassive as if he’d just ordered dinner.
Great Maker, he’s good. …
I’ve no idea what just killed the power, but we’ve got no time to start a global inquiry about it. The overheads start flickering like strobes, and I come to my senses, leap the counter after my Tank. Dashing down the hallway, we skid to a stop on the blood-slicked door. I raise my disruptor rifle, heart beating quick, nod to Kal. Though he’s stronger than a human, it’s still a stretch for him, but finally he drags the cell door aside with a squeal of metal.
I step inside, weapon raised and ready.
“Maker’s breath,” I whisper.
Aurora is slumped in a single metal chair, restraints at her wrists. Her eyes are closed, blood dripping from her nose, spilling over her chin. The floor, ceilings, and walls are buckled outward, almost in a spherical shape. I see two faceless helmets on the floor, two charcoal-gray suits crumpled beside them, their contents smeared up the wall in a strange mixture of gray and black, textures unrecognizable. They go all the way up to the ceiling, like the people inside them were tubes of toothpaste and someone just … squeezed.
