And I see the force of O’Malley’s … well, whatever she just did … hasn’t just flattened the trees, torn the shrubs free, squeezed the Great Ultrasaur of Abraaxis IV like a very large and angry jelly doughnut. It’s also cracked the wall of Bianchi’s office open like an egg.
She did it.
We’re in.
“Told you,” Tyler says.
I look at him blankly, and he just smiles.
“Faith.”
23
Scarlett
“We are aware World Ship residents may currently be experiencing difficulties with [gravity]. Please remain calm.”
The announcement spills over the public address system, met with hundreds of outraged shouts from people already well aware of the problem. I push my way out of the turbolift, sailing into the grand bazaar and a scene of absolute chaos.
People and goods and everything else float in the air, a tumble of colors and shapes, like confetti at a very angry wedding. As I pull myself to a stop on an access ladder, my gown billows about my waist in ripples of shimmering blue and glittering crystal. I’m feeling glad I decided to wear sensible underwear for once.
“Our technicians will return the [gravity] service shortly,” the announcer assures us in a lilting female voice. “We thank you for your patience.”
The announcement cycles through a dozen different languages, only four of which I can speak. The reaction from the residents is universal outrage. The savvier folk in the bazaar are wearing magboots like me—but that doesn’t do much for their wares, their livestock, their belongings.
I keep to the edge of the bazaar, pushing myself along the wall, engaging my magboots only when I need to. It’s quicker to fly, and time is something we’re apparently way shorter on than we planned.
“Kal, Zila, can you hear me?”
“Affirmative, Legionnaire Jones,” Zila responds.
“What’s your position?”
“Almost at Dariel’s flat. ETA, forty-two seconds.”
I reach the edge of the bazaar and consult the schematic on my uniglass, shaking my head. “Crap, I’m at least five minutes away.”
“We cannot wait for you,” I hear Kal declare.
“Three guns are better than two, Punchy.”
“The World Ship’s technicians will have the secondary gravity generators online at any moment. If Finian and Dariel are compromised, your presence in a close-quarter battle will not outweigh the cost of delay.”
I kick through a doorway, sail into another turbolift.
“Are you saying I’m no good in a fight?”
“I am saying this is no time for diplomacy,” Kal responds.
“Listen here, you pointy-eared, pretty-boy jer—”
“We have arrived. I am going in.”
I curse, hit the turbolift control, engage my boots as the thrust pushes me down. I hear a crashing noise over my uni comms channel, the sound of weapons fire. My heart is racing now, stomach in knots as I kick out of the lift and into the residential sector. I hear a scream over comms, disruptor fire.
“Kal?” I shout. “Zila, report!”
More shouting, wet thuds, another scream. I hear Kal swearing in Syldrathi, and though his tone is ice-cold, I realize he’s far more creative at cursing than I thought.
“Tiir’na si maat tellanai!” (Father of many ugly and stupid children!)
“Kii’ne dō all’iavesh ishi!” (Stain on the undergarments of the universe!)
“Aam’na delnii!” (Friend of livestock!)
And with a sizzling crack of disruptor fire, my comms channel dies.
“Kal?”
I kick off a wall, gliding past two bewildered-looking men crawling out of a storage cupboard, stripped down to their underwear. One of them is wearing an Uncle Enzo’s cap.
“Zila, can you hear me?”
I make the stairwell, engaging my magboots as I kick my way upward. My pulse is really hammering now, sweat in my eyes as I disentangle myself from this ridiculous dress, bustle it up and stab another channel on my uni.
“Ty, I think Kal and Zila are in trouble, I—”
I fall silent as I make it up to Dariel’s floor. There, waiting for me in the corridor is a figure in a drab gray suit. Featureless gray helmet. Looking over its shoulder into the den, I see Finian hunched in his chair, pale pink blood leaking from a split in his brow. I see bodies floating in the zero gee, the walls charred with weapons fire.
The GIA operative stows a disruptor in its jacket.
“Legionnaire Jones,” it says. “So nice of you to join us.”
24
Tyler
I’m feeling a little naked without my uniglass, but presumably it’s somewhere in that ultrasaur’s stomach and I’m not about to wade through the mess to get it back.
Pushing myself off the broken foliage, I sail across the enclosure, gently scooping up Auri’s limp body. She stirs, frowning at the shift in momentum as I bring myself to rest