by Amie Kaufman
He glances toward the muffled laughter in the bedroom. The voices of the ones we care for. There is such a fragile web between us all; he and I both know it. Perhaps better than any of them. I catch a glimpse behind those walls of his for a moment. Just a sliver of uncertainty glinting through the cracks.
“I hope so,” he sighs.
“We have the whole galaxy arrayed against us,” I tell him. “But this is where we are meant to be. We are part of something greater now; I feel it in my bones. You will lead us through this. And I will follow you, Brother.”
Syldrathi do not touch, save in moments of intimacy or ritual. But Tyler Jones and I have brawled in the belly of Terran destroyers, butted heads across the Fold, looked into the eyes of death side by side. Human he might be. Weary and bruised and flawed as the rest of them. But in battle, everyone bleeds the same.
I offer him my hand.
“I know my friends, and they are few. But those few I have, I would die for.”
He looks into my eyes again. Muscle flexing along the line of his jaw as he slaps his hand into mine.
“Thanks, Kal. It means a lot, knowing you’ve got my back.”
“Del’nai,” I reply.
A puzzled frown creases his brow to hear me speak in my own tongue. “I think Scar explained what that means, but I don’t …”
“Always,” I say. “Ever and always.”
He looks me up and down with a wry grin.
“Quite an outfit she picked for you.”
I look down at my new clothes in dismay. The pants are made of glossy black plastic, a row of silver buckles running from my ankles to my hips. My shirt is transparent mesh, also black, stretched tight over my torso and leaving very little to the imagination. I would normally only wear boots of this kind if I were planning an extended land war on the surface of a hostile planet.
“Wow,” I hear a voice say.
I look up and see Aurora at the bedroom door. She is wearing a white dress-suit that would probably be described by others as chic. But to me she is clothed in light, radiant as the sun.
Her eyes run from my boots to my face. “You look …”
“Do I have good taste?” Scarlett asks behind her. “Or do I have good taste?”
Aurora looks at the taller girl. “You have good taste.”
Scarlett herself is dressed in fashion similar to mine. Skintight red polymer. A corset that would constitute torture under most galactic conventions. A hundred buckles that seem to serve no structural purpose. A platinum-blond hairpiece, flowing down to her waist.
I look down at myself, raise one eyebrow in question.
“I fail to see why these pants must be so tight.”
Scarlett twirls what might be a leash around her finger and smiles.
“Kal, honey, you wanna play the role, you’ve gotta dress the part.”
· · · · ·
We enter through separate doors to avoid suspicion.
The foyer of the Dominion Repository is vast, the plasteel fashioned to resemble black marble, the trimmings gilt. The walls and floors are lined with scrolling reams of data from various galactic exchanges. Despite its size, the space is crowded, folk of a dozen different species behind the counters and out on the floor—Tyler has chosen the busiest hour of the cycle for our gambit.
He and Zila go first. Our Brain seems somewhat lost for words, but Tyler keeps her close, leaning in occasionally to whisper in her ear. They walk arm in arm, looking like young lovers out for a midday stroll.
Finian comes in close behind, dressed plainly, dark colors under the gleaming silver of his exosuit. He pretends to receive a call on his uniglass immediately upon entering, shuffling over to a quiet corner of the Repository with one finger to his ear as if to better hear the conversation.
Scarlett and I come last, and as was her intent, our entrance is marked by almost everyone in the foyer—I suppose it is not often they see a statuesque blonde in skintight polyvinyl chloride leading a Syldrathi on a leash. Confidence oozing from every pore, Scarlett glides up to a middle-aged Terran manager in business attire.
The man looks her over from head to foot. “May I help you?”
“Of course you can, darling,” Scarlett says, placing far too many h’s in a word that would seem to possess none. “My name is Madame Belle, thirdwife of Rielle Von Lumiere and imperatrix of the Dusk Court of Elberia IV. My husband left something for me in your deposit facilities.”
The manager glances at me. “Your … husband?”
“Oh no, not him,” Scarlett laughs brightly, touching the Terran’s arm. “No, Germaen here is my … personal trainer. You understand.” She tugs the leash around my neck and hisses, “Stand up straight, Germaen!”
I fix her with a glower hotter than a dozen dwarf stars before I remember the role I am supposed to be playing.
“Apologies, Imperatrix,” I murmur, standing taller.
Scarlett rolls her eyes at the manager. “So hard to find good pets these days.”
“I … understand.”
She gives the man a smile I can only describe as wicked and gifts his arm with another lingering touch. “I’m sure you do, darling.”
Dahhhhhhhling.
“Well,” the manager says, looking more than a little flustered at her attentions. “Please, follow me, Imperatrix. Our vaults are right this way.”
Scarlett gives the man a beautiful smile and sets off after him, dragging me behind with a tug. “Come along, Germaen, don’t dawdle!”
As we make our way across the busy floor, I see Finian working quietly in the corner on his uniglass. While most of the security personnel are busy staring at the spectacle Scarlett is making of us, I can see that one of the Repository’s more conscientious attendants is on the way over to ask if our Gearhead needs help.
Which is when the second stage of our distraction kicks in.
“You BASTARD!”
Scarlett stops short, as does everyone else in the Repository. I turn to see Aurora, red faced, standing in front of Tyler and Zila. She is pointing one accusing finger at our Alpha’s nose as she shouts at the top of her voice.
“You said you were going to your mother’s!” She glares at Zila. “This again?”
Tyler casts his eyes around the room, noting that everyone is staring at him.
“Um, hi, Honeycake …”
Aurora brings back one hand and, with a sound that makes me wince, cracks it across Tyler’s already-bruised face.
“Don’t you honeycake me!” Aurora shouts.
“Oh my.” Scarlett presses her hand to her corset and looks at the manager. “I didn’t think this was that sort of establishment.”
“Security will take care of it,” the manager assures her, snapping his fingers and pointing at the unfolding drama. “Please, come this way, Imperatrix.”
Security descends from all corners as Aurora continues to shout and swear. A guard touches her arm, explains she is “making a scene.” She stabs a finger under his chin and shouts, “Don’t you touch me; I know kung fu!” Tyler attempts an explanation, and Aurora yells over the top of him, and among it all, Zila simply looks horrified, which I suspect is not far from the truth.
But as the manager escorts us toward a heavy door in the rear of the foyer, I see Finian, still in his corner, still working away silently on his uniglass.
The heavy door opens with a scan of the manager’s retina, and after a magnetic sweep for weapons and subdermals, we are through to the deposit room, Aurora’s shouts still ringing behind us. In contrast to the extravagance of the foyer, this room is bland in design. A long plastene table sits in its center. The white walls are lined with thousands of small hatches made of case-hardened stellite.
“If I may, Imperatrix?” the manager says, holding up a tiny swab.
“Of course you may,” she smiles, jutting out her chin and forming a perfect pout. The manager touches the swab to her lips.
“Seven one eight four alpha,” she purrs.
The manager nods, turns to the appropriate hatch. As he presses the DNA swab to the receptor, I find myself holding my breath. If this is some kind of ruse, if we are forced to fight our way out of here—
The diode on the door shifts from red to blue. I hear an electronic trill as the compartment unlocks. The manager smiles, and I open the hatch, dragging out a long metal box from inside.
“My husband is terrible with dates,” Scarlett says, tapping her lip. “Could you be a dear and tell me how long ago he made this deposit for me?”
“Of course.” The manager consults his uniglass. “This box was acquired … 17/9/2372.”
“Seventy-two?” I frown. “But that was eight years ago.”
Scarlett gives a sharp snap on the leash. “Thank you, Germaen, we can count. Now hush your tongue or there’ll be no punishment for you tonight!”
I bite down on my protest as she turns to the manager, smiling sweetly.
“Some privacy, if we may?”
With a bow and a small smile, the man backs out of the room, leaving us alone. I glance up at the security lenses in each corner, praying to the Void that Finian is as good as we hope him to be. I frown at Scarlett sidelong.
“You are enjoying this far too much,” I mutter.
“You have noooo idea,” Scarlett whispers.
I open the box, checking the contents before we leave. I can see half a dozen packages, each marked with a small tag. TYLER. SCARLETT. KALIIS. FINIAN. ZILA. Another package, marked SQUAD 312.
“This box has waited here for almost a decade,” I say.
“I know,” Scarlett replies, bewilderment in her eyes. “That’s before we knew each other. Before any of us even joined the academy.”
“How?” I demand. “How could Admiral Adams possibly have had your DNA sequence before he ever met you? How could he have known our squad designation? Our names? The fact that we would even be here?”
“If you want to really set your brain to spin,” Scarlett murmurs, voice trembling, “ask yourself how he knew Cat wouldn’t be?”
I glance at the contents of the deposit box again and realize she is correct—I see no package for Zero anywhere. But, under the other bundles, there is a set of passkeys, and a tag with a berth number at the Emerald City docks.
SECTION 6, GAMMA PROMENADE. BERTH 9[A].
I hand the key to Scarlett, my mind racing. “Whatever is happening here, at least Adams saw fit to supply us with a ship. That is a beginning.”
Scarlett glances up to the cams. “We better get moving.”
I nod, shut the lid, and sling the box under one arm. We make our way from the deposit room, Scarlett in front, me stalking obediently behind. As we walk back out into the foyer, Finian looks up at us, relief plain on his face. Zila is nowhere to be seen, but Aurora and Tyler are on the thoroughfare outside. Aurora is still gesticulating wildly, her outrage only slightly muted by the glass.
“She’s having more fun than I am.” Scarlett smiles.
The pair of us walk calmly across the vast foyer, each step toward the door seeming a mile. Finian stands slowly, limping to the other exit. The crowd around us mills and sways; the manager smiles farewell. And it seems, for the moment, we may have succeeded in our deception. We may be home free.
“May I ask you a question?” I say softly.
“You’re not going to ask me to marry you, are you?” Scarlett murmurs.
“No. And I know it is foolish to ask this now. But we are seldom alone, and there may be little opportunity to ask another time.”
“This sounds serious.”
I swallow hard, suddenly and deeply uncomfortable. “I have done much reading on … human courting. But there is a vast gulf between the written word and reality. And you seem … well acquainted with romantic entanglements.”
“That’s a nice way to put it.” I catch a smirk at the corner of Scarlett’s mouth. “This is about Aurora, right?”
I sigh. Even the sound of her name makes my heart swell. “Yes.”
“You got a case of the mad lurrrve.”
“I am … very fond of her, yes.”
We are almost to the door now, Scarlett speaking under her breath. “I’m probably not the person to ask for advice on this one, Muscles. I’ve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than seven weeks.”
“You are a human girl,” I say desperately. “You know what human girls like.”
The doors slide open before us, and Scarlett looks over her shoulder, eyebrow raised. “We’re not a monolith, Kal, we—”
Her words are cut short as she bumps into a small figure entering the Repository. I hear a growl of outrage, look down to see a small female gremp, surrounded by a dozen others.
“Oh, pardon me, darling,” Scarlett says.
The lead gremp stands perhaps a meter tall, which is large for her species. The tortoiseshell fur covering her body is perfectly coiffed under her pearl-white suit. Her pale green eyes are edged with dark powder and have the gleam of someone who feeds people to her pets for sport.
She looks up at Scarlett, lips sliding back over her fangs.
“You,” Skeff Tannigut growls.
“Oh shit,” Scarlett breathes.
6
FINIAN
I make my way out the side door, aching like I’ve been stomped by an ultrasaur. My suit is close to completely crapping out, but we’re so close to pulling this off—the last thing I want is anyone’s attention. The doors hum closed behind me with a self-satisfied swish, and I turn right, toward the four-way intersection outside the Dominion Repository. By now, Scar and Kal should be parading their edible selves out the front door, where we’ll meet up with the others.
Finally, finally, something’s going our way. Kal had a box under his arm when they left the vault, so I know we have a next move. I’m feeling a little self-satisfied myself as I try for a saunter around the corner, just in time to see Scarlett come face to face—or waist to face—with a pissed-off-looking gremp.
I literally have time to think, Wow, imagine if that was the same one who— before suddenly the sidewalk’s bristling with weaponry, and everybody’s having a very tense day.
I freeze in place. Scar’s already talking at top speed, hands lifted in placation, on the pointy end of a dozen disruptor pistols. Behind her, Dominion security guards have responded by pulling out their ordnance, which is all on the wrong side of heavy. This means that, on the upside, Skeff Tannigut can’t just drag Scarlett and Kal away to chop them into little pieces. On the downside, my squadmates are now threatened on all sides.
“These two are wanted fugitives!” the gremp spits, black-rimmed eyes narrowing. “They assaulted me and my broodkin, almost killed my littermate!”
“Nonsense, darling,” Scarlett says. “I’ve never met you before in my life.”
“I knew your kind could not be trusted,” Tannigut growls.
“My kind?” Scarlett musters some convincing outrage. “I suppose we humans all look alike to you, eh?”
The Dominion guards, more than a few of whom are Terran, look less than impressed at the gangster’s accusations. I limp away from the Repository, trying to stay out of sight. I have no idea where Zila is, but just beyond the rising argument, Tyler and Auri are backing up into the crowded intersection, trying to follow my example and make sure nobody notices them.
“Finian?” Ty mutters into his uni. “Can you muster us a distraction?”
I’m typing on my uni as I reply. “Already on it, Goldenboy. I’ll have a diversion up in thirty seconds. Let’s all make sure we run away in the same direction, yes?”
Tyler takes another slow step back, glancing up and down the bustling thoroughfare. “Turn hubward, and we’ll—”
A scream cuts across comms, coupled with a vicious sizzling sound. I look up from my uni and see Aurora lying on the ground like a puppet with her strings cut. She’s wrapped up in bands of what looks like crackling red energy, steam rising off her skin, mouth open i
n a silent scream. And that’s about when everything goes to pieces. Kal leaps in her direction with a cry of perfect rage, completely forgetting Scarlett’s still got his freaking leash wrapped around her wrist.
I mean, a leash, really?
Anyway, Scarlett’s pulled after him like she’s weightless, crashing straight into Skeff Tannigut and going down in a tangle of flailing limbs and corsetry. Everybody starts shooting. The gremps let loose with their disruptors as their leader falls; the Dominion guards open up in response. A couple of bodies fall on either side, and blasts crackle through the air, gremps and goons ducking for cover or collapsing with yelps of pain.
A stray shot hits a passing skiff, which skids sideways and slams into another parked vehicle, flipping end over end and crashing into a storefront. The crowd around the intersection screams and scatters. Another shot whizzes past my head and I hunker down behind a parked hoverskiff, my exosuit whining, a stabbing pain lancing up through both my knees.
I squint through the firefight and smoke, see Ty and Scar have taken cover behind another hovertruck. Kal has dragged Auri behind a row of auto-peddlers. Our stowaway is still wrapped in that crackling red energy, convulsing where she lies. Kal is crouched over her body with his teeth bared, staring over my shoulder. I realize some of the shots in this firefight are coming from behind me.
With a horrible feeling of foreboding—and I’ve really had a chance to fine-tune this sensation lately, so I feel like I nail it—I turn.
Maker’s bits.
The Unbroken are stalking down the street toward us. Kal’s sister is carrying a weapon that looks like a love affair between a disruptor rifle and an old Terran crossbow—I realize this is the gun that took out Auri. Her goons are spread out behind her, black armor daubed with white glyfs, lips pulled back into snarls. None of them are as terrifying as Saedii, her canines filed to those perfect points, the black stripe of paint across her eyes bringing out the violet and making them gleam. The Syldrathi are firing at the Dominion security goons, disruptor blasts BAMF!ing through the air. They take up cover along the thoroughfare as another skiff crashes to the road in a burst of sparks and twisting metal.
