then … I dunno, fell down the stairs or choked on a creshcake or something?” “Perhaps they completed their training,” Kal says, looking at Aurora, “then balked at the price they would pay to defeat the Ra’haam.”
Auri looks at Kal, her voice soft. “Let’s not talk about that, okay?”
Zila’s eyebrow rises two millimeters, which is practically a scream of alarm as far as she goes. “What price?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Auri says, temper flaring. “It doesn’t matter, because the damn Weapon isn’t even there!” The air crackles around her, a pale light flaring in her iris. “After all that! After everything we’ve gone through, and someone’s stolen it right out from under us! Son of a biscuit, I want to just … scream.”
I glance at Kal, but, good lad, he’s already on the job, folding Auri in those covetable arms of his. He kisses her brow tenderly, smooths back her hair.
“All will be well, be’shmai,” he vows. “Trust in this. In us. The sun will rise.”
She sinks against him, sighing. I watch the two of them, realizing how deep they’re into each other now. I can feel the bond that’s grown between them in the time they shared in the Echo, those hours to us that were months to them. The love. And, heartbreaker that I am, slayer of suitors with over fifty confirmed kills in my little black book, I wonder for a moment if I’ll ever have anyone who means as much to me as they do to each other.
“Um,” Finian says.
I glance at our Gearhead, his big black eyes fixed on his screens.
I do my best Tyler impression, eyebrow raised. “Do you have something you’d like to share with the class, Legionnaire de Seel?”
Wordlessly, he flicks a metal-clad finger, his exosuit humming as he transfers his feed to the holo display above the main console. It’s a news feed from TerraNet, the most reliable Earth news source, the words LATEST UPDATE scrolling across the bottom of the screen. It shows footage of a massive Syldrathi armada, thousands upon thousands of ships, all floating like sharks in the Fold.
It’s the biggest fleet I’ve ever seen.
“Amna diir,” Kal breathes.
Fin presses another button, arcing the volume of the feed.
“… Unbroken armada is currently amassing in the Fold near the gateway to Terran space. Terran forces have yet to engage, instead mustering inside the Sol system in defensive posture. This statement was issued from the head of the Terran Defense Force, Admiral Emi Hotep, one hour ago.”
The feed shifts to a severe, bronze-skinned woman with short dark hair, in a sharp TDF officer’s uniform.
“I am sending this message on all channels, addressing the Unbroken fleet: Though we have had differences in our past, the Syldrathi are friends to Earth. We consider you an honorable people, warriors born, and we have no wish to engage in hostilities with Unbroken forces. However, should Syldrathi vessels invade Terran space, they will be met with deadly force.”
The feed shifts to a Betraskan man in officer’s dress. The label under him reads GREATER CLAN BATTLE LEADER ANALI DE TREN.
“The Betraskan people strive always for peace, in our hearts, in our dens, and in our skies. But should any world or force engage in unwarranted hostilities, Trask will stand with our Terran allies.”
My heart sinks in my chest as I look around the bridge. I can see the same despair in the faces of my squad. The galaxy is on the verge of war.
The feed continues.
“Disturbingly, an unknown vessel has been detected within the Unbroken fleet. TDF Command has dismissed claims of a ‘superweapon,’ but the fate of the Syldrathi homeworld at the hands of Unbroken leader Archon Caersan, aka the Starslayer—an attack in which ten billion Syldrathi lost their lives—cannot be ignored. Moments ago, before our drone was destroyed, TerraNet managed to shoot exclusive footage of this unknown Syldrathi ship.”
The feed cuts back to an image of the armada, cruising through the Fold. Again, I’m struck by the size of it—the sheer firepower the Starslayer has brought to bear in retaliation for the attack on Andarael.
“This Caersan guy seems to be taking this real personal,” Finian mutters.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I wonder wh—”
“Mothercustard,” Auri whispers, eyes widening.
Kal’s face is pale and drawn as he watches the feed, a sliver of fear and sorrow appearing in the cracks of his normally ice-cool Syldrathi demeanor. But at the note in Auri’s voice, he turns to her.
“Be’shmai?”
I look back at the screen. The footage is blurred, a few frames snatched in