thrill of graduating into our final year crackling in the air. Just you and me, Tyler. Staring at each other across that barroom table and all those empty glasses.
“Best friends forever, right?”
The colors around us are monochrome, because that’s just how it goes inside the Fold. Tyler’s once-blue irises have turned to gray, and he’s staring at the main viewscreen with a totally weird expression.
Probably thinking about last time he was in here.
That girl he found, floating in all this nothing.
She was a pretty one, too. …
“All right, let’s go over the mission again,” he says.
Finian sighs, his exosuit whispering as he massages his temples. “We’ve been over it already, sir. That’s what our briefing this morning was for, right?”
Tyler glances at Pixieboy. “Legionnaire Gilwraeth was incarcerated by academy security during that briefing, so I thought we could run over it again.”
“Well, do the rest of us have to hear it? Sir?”
I fold my arms and glare. “Are you, like, a professional arsehole or … ?”
“More a hobbyist,” Finian replies. “Hoping to go pro next season.”
He’s smirking, waiting to see what I’ll lob back over the net. Skin already white and eyes already black, Finian’s the only one of us unchanged by the Fold. I keep a lid on it, but deep down, I’m just as frustrated as our new Gearhead is. I heard Ketchett’s squad got sent to Beta Fushicho to eliminate a pirate fleet. Troile’s squad landed a sweet detail escorting ambassadors to the Sentanni peace talks. For an Alpha with the grades Tyler got, this mission is nowhere. This squad is nothing. But as again, and as always, he keeps it professional. He’s good like that.
Except when it comes to the pretty ones.
“We have six hours and twenty-two minutes till our destination, Legionnaire de Seel,” Tyler says flatly. “You can spend it scrubbing the latrine floor until you can see your face in it, or you can spend it going over our mission. Up to you.”
The Betraskan purses his lips in thought. “Well, if you put it like that …”
“I do.”
Tyler taps a series of commands into his console, and the miniature map of the Fold is replaced by a hologram of a big lump of rock, floating in a sea of other big lumps of rock. It’s an asteroid. The ugly mother of all asteroids.
A glance at the specs tells me it’s about a thousand klicks across, hollowed and pitted like wormy fruit. I can see the domes and pylons of a large factory, clinging to its side like a barnacle.
“This is Sagan station in the Juno system,” Tyler says. “It was an ore-processing rig, owned by the now defunct Jupiter Mining Corporation, abandoned in 2263. Since the Syldrathi civil war broke out six months ago, Sagan has seen an influx of refugees from Syldrathi space, who’ve claimed the abandoned facilities as their own. AL Command now estimates the population at seven thousand.”
I’m watching our new Syldrathi squaddie while Tyler talks, but Pixieboy has a good poker face. His stare is piercing, cold. He’s radiating that traditional Syldrathi aloofness. The “I’m better than you, and that’s just Science” attitude. But there’s not a silver hair out of place on his head, his face like a model from a fashion zine, and even with the bruises from his brawl, I’ve gotta agree with Scar. You wouldn’t kick him out of bed for snoring.
“The Juno star is situated in the Neutral Zone,” Tyler continues. “With the Terran and Betraskan governments still refusing to accept Syldrathi refugees, their welfare is the Aurora Legion’s responsibility.”
“Which I don’t understand,” Scarlett says.
“We’re a neutral relief organization, Scar, we’re sup—”
“Yes, thank you, Bee-bro.” Scar rolls her eyes. “I know what the AL is. What I mean is, I don’t understand why the Terran and Betraskan governments won’t open their borders and help these people. Their home system has been decimated by one of their own Archons. Why are Terra and Trask leaving them out in the cold?”
“This is wartime.” Finian shrugs. “If they open their borders up, who’s to say some of the refugees they let in won’t be a danger themselves?”
“That’s such crap, Finian,” I growl.
“I’m not saying I agree, I’m just telling you what they’re thinking.”
“So we just leave these people out here to rot?” Scarlett asks.
“Obviously not,” Tyler says. “We’ve got a cargo bay full of medtech for them.”
Scar starts sniping at her brother about that being no better, and Finian weighs in with his two cents and the bridge