by Amie Kaufman
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.
34
ZILA
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 still 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.
Given us another reminder that Tyler is not with us.
Another reminder of all we have lost.
Scarlett squares her shoulders, jaw clenched.
“Can we listen in on the Unbroken comms?” she asks.
I incline my head. “It will require utilizing the log-in codes the elder gave us, but if they are correct, then yes.”
“Do it,” Auri instructs me.
I connect to the Unbroken communications network, enter the access codes, and attempt to keep my breathing even as I wait to see whether they will be accepted. A finger of ice trails down my spine, but I do not speak. Abruptly a Syldrathi voice spills out of our speakers.
Scarlett listens a few moments, her brow creased. “Oh crap.”
“Bad news?” Fin asks.
“They’re getting ready to head through the FoldGate.”
A ripple passes through the fleet as it moves into position. A closing of the gaps between ships so the Unbroken can pour through the FoldGate en masse. An immeasurable, unstoppable flow.
Auri grips the back of my seat so hard, I hear the internal structure creak.
“Get us closer to the Weapon! A little more, and I can get myself there.”
“You want to spacewalk, Stowaway?” Fin asks. “You’re half the size of the average Syldrathi. None of the suits here—”
“I don’t need a suit.” She meets my eyes. “Zila, just get me close.”
I glance at Scarlett, who nods, and so I obey.
Fin curses, hurrying toward the stern of the shuttle and the airlock, Aurora on his heels. She does not say goodbye.
I bank the shuttle sideways, slip between two massive cruisers and ever closer to the rainbow refractions of the Weapon. From behind me, Scarlett puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
I find that her touch unexpectedly eases the tension within me.
“As soon as we’re through the gate into Terran space,” she says softly, “the TDF will be shooting at us.”
“Yes.”
“We can’t shoot back. We can’t fight against our own people.”
“I will do my best to avoid combat.” The rest of the sentence is unspoken: For as long as possible.
A voice spills over the Unbroken communications network. Deep and musical. A voice we all immediately recognize.
“De’na vosh, tellanai,” the Starslayer says.
“ ‘Know no fear, my children,’ ” Scarlett murmurs.
“De’na siir.”
“ ‘Know no regret.’ ”
“Tur, si mai’lesh de’sai.”
“ ‘Today, we burn away our shame.’ ”
“Turae, si aire’na aire no’suut.”
“ ‘Tonight, we dance the dance of blood.’ ”
With a blinding flash of light, the Unbroken fleet begins dropping through the FoldGate. Dreadnoughts and carriers. Wave upon wave of cruisers and destroyers, fighters and drones. Finally, the Weapon itself disappears before our eyes. I steel myself, engage our thrusters, and a moment later we are through it too, with a ripple of sensation I feel in every pore.
We emerge into the utter chaos of battle, missiles and tracer rounds flying past us, the Unbroken fleet spreading out to engage the Terran defenders. Ships are wheeling and turning, dodging and cartwheeling, exploding silently and flying to pieces around us. Syldrathi instructions are snapped and shouted down the comms, broadcasting through our bridge, too quick for me to follow.
“Holy crap!” Scarlett cries.
The Unbroken fleet breaks apart into wings, spreading out across a broad perimeter, lighting the dark on fire. Despite the news feeds disputing the existence of the Unbroken superweapon, it seems TDF Command is taking the claim seriously; a phalanx of Terran vessels is throwing all it can at the wall of Syldrathi ships, hoping to punch its way through the Unbroken defenses.
“Those are Betraskan,” Scarlett whispers, pointing at our scopes.
It is true—among the snub-nosed hulks of the Terran fleet, we can see the smooth, beetle-shaped forms of Betraskan destroyers and battleships, locked in combat with the Unbroken force. It seems Earth’s allies have kept true to their word, stepping up in defense of Terra. My heart flutters slightly as I realize we are seeing the opening shots of what might become the first true galactic war. I do my best to ignore it, but the biological response to the sight is strong.
Ships explode around us in absolute silence. The cockpit is a cacophony of screaming alarms and warnings from the flight computer, Scarlett shouting unneeded advice, and the thunder of our engines, and among it all I feel so small, so insignificant, that I wonder what I am doing here at all. I fly as best I can, but I know my best will not be enough for much longer, my knuckles white on my controls. I glance up at the stuffed dragon tucked above my seat. Shamrock watches me with beady eyes, supervising in the absence of Cat.
I wish you were here.
Then, as though Cat has given it to me herself, I spot my moment. The carriers protecting the Weapon have unleashed their fighter wings, moving to intercept a storm of inbound TDF cruisers. I stab at my controls, weave beneath the belly of an Unbroken dreadnought bristling with guns. For a brief moment, there is nothing between us and the Weapon. As I swing by for a close pass, spiraling among a burst of inbound railgun fire, a light on my console flickers on—an alarm warns me the rear airlock has opened.
> Seven heartbeats later, it closes again.
“Good luck, Auri,” Scarlett murmurs.
A spray of missiles from a TDF vessel cuts across our bow, and I stab instinctively at the controls to take evasive action. As I swerve away from the gleaming Weapon, back out into the wider chaos, my vision seems to widen. The battle becomes bigger and bigger, until I’m taking in an ocean of ships thousands strong, stretching as far as I can see.
I cannot see Aurora at all.
I take a deep, slow breath and loosen my hold on the controls, forcing myself to focus on the task ahead—living long enough to render Aurora any assistance we can. Small as I am feeling, I honestly have no idea if it will be enough.
But in the end, what else can I do?
“Scarlett, hold on.”
35
AURI
It takes only the smallest corner of my mind to maintain a bubble of air and pressure around me. Only the smallest fraction of my Self to propel me through the ice-cold void of space toward the Weapon. Around me, a thousand ships whirl in a dance of death and destruction, but for me, time slows. I see every move before they make it. I know their fates before they’re sealed.
And I am coming closer and closer to my destination.
To my destiny.
I fly through a glittering, translucent field as I approach the Weapon, and within its touch I sense the energy of the Eshvaren. The creators of the thing that hangs before me, radiant in the dark. There’s an instant familiarity about that sensation, like an old friend reaching for my hand. For a moment, I’m standing before Esh once more, inside the Echo, hearing that simple instruction.
Your only obstacles are those you put in front of yourself.
You must let them go.
Focus.
And I do.
The man who awaits me inside the Weapon will know that I’m here. I’m sure of it. But I feel no fear, no hesitation. Only certainty about what I must do.
I’ve burned my loves and my ties all away.
Nothing remains but my purpose.
The docking bay is like a huge, crystalline cave, gleaming and intense. It’s completely empty as I soar inside. I set myself down on the floor, and the instant I connect to the crystal structure around me, I’m home, clicking into place, an integral part of this vast refraction of rainbows, power singing through it and into me.