Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(8)
… it’s over.
And once more I’m an infinitely fragile thing, standing on two shaking legs, and all around me are screams and alarms, and in front of me is the wreckage of the hoverskiffs and the SecBots, and around me is the ruin of our Longbow, and I’m swaying again, and my knees want to bend backward like the robots’ did when they jumped from the flatbeds, and there’s blood on my lips, and I’m moving, and I’m falling, and then the ground is rushing up to meet me.
· · · · ·
When I wake, Kal is leaning over me, his hand gentle at my cheek. His violet eyes are wide and beautiful, his long silver hair is framed by a fuzzy halo of light.
“You look like an angel,” I murmur.
“What is an angel?” he asks, curling his hand around mine. His expression is as grave as ever, but I can see the concern in his eyes. I can feel the restraint he’s exercising to avoid crushing my grip in his.
“It’s a dirtchild with wings,” Finian says from somewhere behind him.
Kal’s brows rise. “Humans do not have wings.”
“How would you know?” Fin asks. “Ever seen one naked?”
Kal’s brows rise higher and his ears are starting to blush when Scarlett steps in to save him. “Be nice, Finian. You alive over there, Auri? That was some kaboom.”
She and Tyler come into view, looming over Kal’s shoulder, and I realize nobody’s wearing a halo—we’re just inside, and they’re backlit by the lamps set into the ceiling. I feel like a human shape made out of noodles, my limbs weak and uncooperative, but slowly my vision’s clearing. Zila gently shifts Kal to one side and starts running a med-scanner over me.
“Where are we?” I try.
“Hotel on the Emerald City underside,” Tyler says. “The low-rent and ask-no-questions kind. I booked it as a backup before the deal with the gremps, just in case things went really south.”
“Which is weird,” his sister says, bumping his shoulder. “Because I thought all your ideas were amazing. Lucky that you knew we’d need a fallback position.”
“Almost like I studied tactics,” he says, bumping her back.
“You are well,” Zila pronounces, looking at me. “Brainwave activity is still slightly elevated, but bio-readings are normalizing.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“You lost consciousness,” Kal replies.
“After reducing a pile of SecBots to scrap metal and dragging their hoverskiffs out of the sky,” Fin supplies. “It was pretty hot. Though could we maybe work on you learning to aim this thing? If we hadn’t ducked …”
“We did duck,” Scarlett says. “And Auri’s force-sphere saved our shapely behinds, so thank you, Auri.”
Our squad’s Face helps me sit up against the wafer-thin pillows, and I get a better view of the dingy hotel room. It’s the same kind of sticky-floor decor that I guess never goes out of style on a certain budget. There’s a holo display taking up one wall, and two beds—I’m occupying one, with the squad around me. Fin’s on the other, working on his suit again, his tool kit scattered across the mattress. There’s a single smudgy window, our stuff piled up underneath it.
Tyler answers without being asked.
“I checked in alone after we hightailed it from the docks,” he explains. “Pulled the rest of you in the window. Less chance anyone’ll remember us that way. We should be safe here for a while. I paid with unmarked creds.”
“So we have a little time.” Scarlett sinks down to the edge of my bed. “We can afford to take a breath.”
She glances around the room, studying us each in turn, and I realize that the big-sister protectiveness she used to keep for Tyler is growing to encompass all of us. Zila is back to helping Fin with his suit, and he’s wincing every time she moves his knee. Kal’s a statue by my side, and Tyler’s lost in thought. Or memory.
I know he’s thinking about Cat every few heartbeats. We all are.
This defeat is a victory, she told me before she vanished forever into the hive mind of the Ra’haam.
But it doesn’t feel at all like that right now. We’re on the run from the Terran and Betraskan governments—even the legion that bears my name is against us now. We’ve lost our most valuable asset in the Longbow, we’ve got almost no weapons and even less money, and we have no idea where to turn next.
“So what do we do now?” I ask softly.
Tyler’s staring at the floor, scarred eyebrow curved in a deep frown. I can see he’s trying so hard to lead us, and I ache for him every second. But sometimes it feels like the only reason we’re still moving is that none of us realizes we’ve already been mortally wounded. We haven’t realized we’re supposed to fall down.
“Food,” says Scarlett, clapping her hands together in the uncomfortable silence. “When in doubt, eat your way out.”
“I like the way you think,” I sigh.
Scar unearths the meals I packed, and with a pretty convincing show of fake cheer she bustles around, dubiously reading out the names on the sachets and distributing them with a flourish. I score a foil pack of Beef “Stew”-n-MashTM, with no explanation on the packet of the quotes around the Stew.
“WOULD YOU LIKE A NUTRITIONAL ANALYSIS OF THAT?” comes Magellan’s voice from my pocket. “BECAUSE IN SOME CULTURES, A MEAL LIKE THAT WOULD BE CONSIDERED AN ACT OF WAR, ESPECIALLY—”