Aurora Rising: The Aurora Cycle 1

by Amie Kaufman

I bite my lip. I have to keep looking for answers instead of more questions.

  “So humans are on more than two planets now. And … we discovered aliens. I met one, last night. I think she said she’s in charge?”

  “Yeah, that’s Battle Leader de Stoy,” he says. “She’s Betraskan. Their home world is Trask in the Belinari system. They live mostly underground, and they don’t process vitamin D like us, hence the lack of melanin and the contact lenses. Biologically, we’re pretty similar, though. They were the first species humanity ever made contact with. We were at war a couple of hundred years back, but they’ve been our strongest ally for generations.”

  I think of the boy who appeared in my vision. The hot, angry-looking one with the pointed ears, the long, silver hair.

  “Are there other, uh, species on the station? Maybe some with …” I can barely say it out loud, one finger lifting to touch the curve of my own ear. I’m going to sound like an idiot if I completely imagined him.

  “Syldrathi.” He nods, his smile gone completely. “We were at war with them for a couple of decades, too. Terra only struck a peace accord two years ago.”

  His hand lifts, fingers curling around the chain I can see around his neck. He tugs it free of his neckline—I don’t even think he’s doing it consciously—and I catch a glimpse of a ring before his fist swallows it up, squeezing tight.

  He finds his smile again, though it’s weak.

  “But that’s a history lesson you don’t need right now. Point is, yeah, we’ve discovered a lot of other species. Some we get along with, some we don’t.”

  “So what do you do here?”

  I mean, I’m assuming the dimples aren’t a full-time gig.

  “I’m a Legionnaire,” he says. “There was a thing back in your day called the United Nations, right?”

  I nod. “That’s you?”

  “More or less,” he says. “We’re the Aurora Legion. We’re a coalition between Terrans—humans, you’d say—and Betraskans. Some Syldrathi joined us two years ago when our war ended. We’re an independent peacekeeper legion. We mediate border conflicts, police neutral zones of space. I’d say we’re humanitarian.” His mouth quirks to a proper smile. “Except a lot of us aren’t human.”

  “And something happened yesterday, with the cadets? I heard the nurses talking about squads?”

  And just like that, I’ve killed his beautiful smile stone dead.

  Farewell, dimples. I miss you already.

  “In our final year, we form squads,” he says. “Six Legionnaires, encompassing the six specialty streams here at the academy. Yesterday was this big, annual event called the Draft. It’s where the squads are formed.”

  “Big day. But you look like somebody ran over your cat.”

  I was trying to coax his smile into returning, and I sort of succeed.

  “The Alphas pick their team members in the Draft, and those with the highest exam results get to pick first.”

  “Except you were rescuing me instead.” My heart sinks as it all slots into place. “I’m sorry, Tyler.”

  He’s quick to shake his head, his voice firm. “No. Don’t be sorry. I did what any Legionnaire would have done, and I’d do it again. I’m glad you’re here, Aurora.”

  “Auri,” I murmur.

  “Auri,” he echoes, softer.

  And we’re both quiet a moment, because I guess the whole rescuing thing creates some kind of bond between you, and we both jump a little more than we should when the door opens to admit a grumpy-looking nurse.

  “That’s it for today, Legionnaire Jones,” she says.

  Ty hesitates a moment, then comes to his feet. “Can I—”

  “You can visit her tomorrow,” says the nurse.

  “I’m shipping out today, ma’am.”

  “You’re leaving?” I blurt, quietly panicking.

  “I’ll be back, don’t worry.” He smiles. “But yeah, those humanitarian missions I told you about? My squad has its first briefing in twenty minutes.”

  “Then you’d best get moving, Legionnaire,” the nurse says.

  Her tone in no-nonsense, her manner terse. So Tyler gives her a brisk salute, and hits me with those dimples one more time.

  “I’ll come see you as soon as we get back, okay?”

  “Okay …”

  But somehow, it’s really, really not.

  And with a small, sad wave, Captain Hotness walks out the door.

  The nurse fusses about me, poking and prodding with various instruments I don’t recognize. I fold over the white sheets so she won’t see the blood and take it to a whole new level.

  As I wait her out, I realize I’m sitting on a space station, tens of thousands of light-years from Earth. Totally alone.

  How did this become my life?

  Why did I get another chance at life at all, when ten thousand other people aboard the Hadfield lost theirs?

  The nurse finally leaves, and I find myself alone for real. My head’s a mess, and now, without distractions, the reality of my situation’s pushing to the fore.

  Even if my parents recovered from my loss and lived long, wonderful lives, they’ve been dead for over a century. I’ll never see them again.

  I’ll never see my sister, Callie, again either.

  Everyone I knew is gone.

  My home, my stuff.

  I can hardly wrap my mind around it, and I push at the idea like I’m wiggling a loose tooth, trying to find the point at which it hurts. There are little twinges for the most ridiculous things. My running shoes. My trophies. The fact that two centuries later, I’ll never find out what happened on my favorite series.

  I look down at Tyler’s present in the palm of my hand. A small, glowing prompt is pulsing on the screen.

  Please name your device.

  And after a little bit of thought, I type a single word in response.

  Magellan.

  Because he was a pretty epic explorer … well, except the bit where he died horribly, far from home. Before that, though, did he ever see some stuff. And that’s why I trained in exploration. Because I want to see everything.

  Maybe now I will. And honestly, I could use some of Big M’s mojo.

  After a moment or two of processing, the device lights up and speaks.

  “Hello! Need something, boss?”

  “Yeah.” My mind’s ticking over slowly. “Can you research things for me?”

  “Say the word,” it replies.

  I know that once I’ve seen this, I won’t be able to un-see it. But I know just as surely that I don’t have a choice. Someone will tell me, if I don’t ask.

  “The colony the Hadfield was headed for,” I say slowly, remembering Battle Leader de Stoy had a different name for it. “Can you tell me about that?”

  “No problem,” Magellan chirps, with a cheery little beep for punctuation. “Lei Gong colony, coming right up.”

  Yeah, that’s what she called it. They must have changed the name …

  Magellan projects a 3-D solar system above his screen, the planets slowly orbiting the sun at the center. But I find myself frowning.

  “Wait a minute, Magellan. That’s not Octavia.”

  “No,” he agrees. “It’s Lei Gong.”

  “Okay, do you have an Octavia system in your database?” I say slowly.

  Magellan throws a different solar system up above his screen, and this one is immediately familiar. I jab a finger at the third planet. “Zoom in on this one. Rotate.”

  And there it is. I see the familiar stretch of coastline, the spot inland, up the river, where the Butler settlement was founded. Where I was supposed to be.

  “I don’t want to rain on your parade,” says Magellan, sounding completely cheerful about doing exactly that, “but there’s never been a settlement on any planet in this sy
stem. It’s under interdiction.”

  “… What’s interdiction?”

  “It’s a total ban on system entry. Interdicted systems represent a risk to at least twenty-five sentient species, and are marked with a planetary warning beacon. The penalties for entering an interdicted zone are zero fun.”

  “But Octavia was fine,” I protest.

  “Nope,” Magellan contradicts me. “The planet was deemed unsuitable for habitation by carbon-based life, and no colony was ever established. Can I interest you in more information on Lei Gong’s imports and exports, or festival season?”

  My gut clenches, but I make myself ask the question anyway.

  “Can you search the colonial records for me? I want to know what happened to a Zhang Ji. Born twenty-one twenty-five. He was my father.”

  The wait stretches forever, but in a way, it’s far, far too soon when Magellan beeps, like he’s clearing his throat before he gives an answer.

  “There is no record of that name in any Terran colonial database.”

  My throat’s tight, and my breath’s coming quick again.

  Maybe this is just a mix-up?

  But before I can press any further, there’s a soft knock at the door, and it opens to admit the Betraskan woman, Battle Leader de Stoy. She’s in a blue-gray uniform related to Ty’s, though hers is far more formal.

  “Good morning, Aurora,” she says, closing the door. Her gaze flicks up to the camera but settles on me as she joins me on the bed. “I’m glad you’re up and dressed. I see you’ve acquired a uniglass.”

  Magellan is smart enough to keep his sass to himself, and I set him aside on my pillow. “I did,” I say, trying to marshal my most reasonable tone. If I let her hear my grief, let her think I’m not holding it together, she’ll start treating me like a child. I don’t want decisions made for me right now. I need to understand what’s happening.

  “And how are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay,” I manage.

  “It’s not unusual to feel side effects from prolonged exposure to the Fold.” When our eyes lock, I find that blank gray stare totally unnerving. “The effects can be serious, even on young minds. Your mood and memories may take time to settle.”

  Do I tell her about the nosebleed? That a chunk of my hair wasn’t white before? About the hallucinations?

  Why aren’t I telling her?

  I decide to start with a question instead. Feel out her willingness to be straight with me. “I was just trying to look up what …” My voice wavers, and I let it. “I was trying to look up what happened to my father. But our colony records seem to have been changed. And all records of my dad have been … lost.”

  Such a small word, for such a big thing.

  The silence before she replies is just a beat too long. “Is that so?”

  “That’s so,” I agree. “Which is kind of upsetting, because I’d like to know how things turned out for the people I care about.”

  “Of course,” she says. “We’ll have someone look into it.”

  Total brush-off.

  “When will someone look into it?” I press. “It isn’t like these are old paper records you somehow lost. This stuff should be stored somewhere, right?”

  “I expect so,” she agrees. “In the meantime, I have good news. The Terran government is sending a ship for you. Top priority, direct from the Global Intelligence Agency. Once their operatives arrive, they’ll escort you home. It will be perfectly safe.”

  Safe? That’s a weird reassurance to offer.

  Why wouldn’t it be safe?

  And where is home, anyway? My house will be long gone—nobody I know is back on Earth. I don’t know what home means anymore.

  And that’s when I realize she’s twisted to sit with her back completely to the red camera light in the corner. And as she speaks, she’s shaking her head—very slowly, almost imperceptibly.

  As if she’s contradicting her own words.

  “R-right,” I stammer, frustration fading away as a shiver goes through me. “So I should go with them?”

  “Absolutely,” she says, reaching for my hand. “The GIA operatives will be here soon. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable on your birth planet.”

  When she withdraws her hand, there’s a tiny slip of paper in the palm of mine. I make a fist around it.

  “Got it,” I say, my heart beating a mile a minute. She’s warning me, that much I know. But against what? What should I do instead?

  “It’s been good to meet you,” she says, pushing to her feet. “Good luck, Aurora O’Malley. I mean that sincerely.”

  And with military precision, I’m dismissed. She turns for the door, and I sweep Magellan off my pillow and let myself fall back onto the bed, trying to keep it natural as I curl up on my side, back to the camera.

  I make myself lie still as I count to thirty, and then carefully, I check the slip of paper hidden in my hand. There’s a message written on it.

  Docking Port 4513-C. Passcode: 77981-002

  I glance at Magellan. The menu still glowing across the bottom.

  map.

  directions?

  I curl my hand around the paper again, glancing across at the door. And that’s when I realize the little light on the lock isn’t glowing red anymore.

  It’s switched to green.

  I’m being lied to, and I don’t know who to trust. But I have one source of information I can try.

  “Magellan?”

  “Hey, boss, I missed you too! What’s up?”

  “I want you to tell me everything you know about this station I’m on. Start with the basics.”

  And as he begins talking, I’m already heading out the door.

  6

  Cat

  “Join Aurora Academy, they said. …”

  “Cat … ,” Tyler warns.

  “See the ’Way, they said. …”

  “Cat.”

  We’re sitting on the bridge of our brand-new Longbow with our brand-new squad in our brand-new flight gear. Our seats face each other around a broad circular console, studded with glowing controls and monitors. The holographic display floating above the console is currently showing the view from our forward cams; the long run down the launch tube to a small spot of black beyond.

  Scarlett and Finian are sitting across from me. Zila and our new Syldrathi combat specialist are to my right. Kaliis Whatchamacallit, first son of Laeleth something-something, has some nice bruises from yesterday’s brawl, and a nice smoldering glare in those purple eyes of his. He hasn’t spoken since we bailed him out of the brig this morning. Zila hasn’t squeaked, either, come to think of it.

  Well, at least they’re bloody quiet.

  From my seat at main control, I glance to the copilot’s chair on my left. Tyler’s sitting there, studying his displays. His hair is tousled and his eyes are blue as oceans, and the scar I gave him when we were kids cuts through one brow. And even though he looks as tired as I’ve ever seen him, Maker, help me, I can’t stop the butterflies in my—

  “Preflight check complete,” he reports. “Take us out, Legionnaire Brannock.”

  “Sir, could I just say this is a complete waste of our bloody time, sir?” I ask.

  Finian looks up from his displays, blinks at Tyler with blank black eyes.

  “I find myself agreeing with the exalted Zero,” he says. “Sir.”

  “Nobody’s talking to you, Finian,” I growl.

  “Funny, I get that a lot.”

  I’m still glaring at Tyler, all my frustration at this jank squad and this jank mission boiling in my chest. After five years of Academy training, all the hours, all the hard work, we were given our first assignment this morning, and it’s turned out to be a bloody supply run. I can’t believe it. I’m the best pilot in the academy, and I’ve been relegated to not
hing but a damn courier. An automated drone could do this job for us. Tyler knows it. I know it. Everyone on the damn ship knows it.

  But our Alpha just stares back at me, all business.

  “Orders are orders,” he says. “This is what we signed up for.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I say. “I didn’t slog my guts out for five years so I could lug med supplies to a couple of refugees in the arse end of the bloody galaxy.”

  “Color me confounded,” Finian says. “But again, I find myself agree—”

  “Shut up, Finian.”

  “Look, this is the job,” Tyler says, looking around the bridge. “I know we all hoped for more, but we can’t expect to save the whole Milky Way on our first trip out. It may not be the most high-profile mission, but these people need our help.”

  “And I get that, sir,” I say. “But you don’t think there’s a better way for the Aurora Legion to utilize my highly trained, supremely skilled, and totally spankable tail section than as a glorified delivery girl?”

  Scarlett grins. “It does seem a shameful misappropriation of Legion resources.”

  My eyes are still locked on Tyler’s.

  “I could’ve had any squad I wanted, you know that, right?”

  “And I love you for sticking with me, you know that, right?” he replies.

  Hmm.

  There’s that word.

  I pretend not to hear it, reach into my flight jacket and pull out Shamrock instead, propping him beside my displays. His fur is soft and green, and stuffing is leaking from a split in his stitching. I should get around to fixing him. …

  “What’s that supposed to be?” Finian asks.

  “It’s a dragon,” I reply. “Present from my mum. He’s for luck.”

  “It’s a stuffed toy, how is it supp—”

  “Shut up, Finian.”

  “… Okay, are you hitting on me? It feels like you might be hitting on me.”

  “I’ll be hitting on your face in a minute, you fu—”

  “Legionnaire de Seel, can it,” Tyler says smoothly. “Again, Legionnaire Brannock, preflight check is complete. Pretty please with sugar on top, would you be so kind as to take us out now, thank you.”