One of the Paladins glances at Saedii, and she acquiesces with a small wave of her hand. The feed grows larger, dominating the wall. A Chellerian male is talking on the feed, his blue skin rendered gray by the Fold. Even in black and white, his smile is dazzling, and his suit looks like it cost the GDP of a small moon. The name LYRANN BALKARRI floats beneath him, headlines in a dozen languages scroll behind him. The news is grim.
“An attack by Rigellian insurgents on Chellerian holdings in the Colaris sector,” Saedii reads the headline, raises a brow. “And?”
“Colaris has been contested by Rigel and Chelleria for the last fifty years. The Chellerian consulate just brokered a cease-fire after a decade of negotiations. And Rigel suddenly just starts blowing up Chellerian ships?”
I turn to another screen. “That one. Bring up that one.” I point to another feed. “That too.” They’re small stories—if you weren’t paying attention, they’d be easy to miss in the noise and confusion of the Unbroken attack on Terra. But there are dozens of them. And I’m paying attention.
Ishtarri colony ships destroyed by a gremp attack in the Fold.
A three-way border war between the No’olah, the Antarri Collective, and Shearrr, cold for the last seven years, suddenly flares again.
Three top-tier Dominion officials assassinated by agents of their chief rivals, the Pact of Shen.
“Distractions,” I say, looking around the room. “Provocations meant to drag a dozen different races into a dozen different conflicts.” My gaze falls on Saedii. The bite marks on my neck sting with sweat. “Just like your abduction dragged the Unbroken into war with Earth and Trask.”
“The war with Earth never ended for us, Terran,” Erien growls. “We were simply concerned with other prey.”
I ignore him, staring into Saedii’s eyes. “You know who this is.”
“This … Ra’haam you spoke of.”
“It’s corrupted the GIA. And the GIA has operatives in every sector of the galaxy.” I wave at the feeds, trying not to sound like a conspiracy nut. “It could pull this off with enough planning. And it’s been planning for centuries. It wants the galaxy at war. Tied up and distracted so nobody learns who the real threat is until it’s too late.”
There’s an exchange in Syldrathi among Saedii and her command crew. Questions. A brief explanation of the Ra’haam, the Eshvaren, the Weapon. I sense skepticism among them, see their disdain as they look at me. Saedii can see into my head. She knows I’m telling the truth.
But still …
“Our concern is not for some weed festering in the shadows,” she declares. “Our concern is for our missing Archon.”
“Those problems are one and the same, Saedii.”
She drums sharp fingernails on the table, eyes flashing. “I presume you have a plan beyond bleating like an orphaned bashii?”
“My commanders in the Aurora Legion,” I say, ignoring the jab. “They know something. These boots of mine? The jammer inside that busted us out of that holding cell? It was waiting for me ten years inside a Dominion vault. Put there by Legion Command years before I even joined the academy.”
“You are suggesting we run to Terrans for aid?” Erien scoffs.
“The Aurora Legion is a neutral party,” I insist. “You’re not at war with us. If I could speak to Adams and de Stoy, find out what they know—”
“Earth is our enemy,” Saedii says. “Trask is our enemy.”
“The whole galaxy can be your enemy if you let it, Saedii.”
“Let it?” She smiles, running her tongue across her teeth.
“We love it.”
“The blade grows dull when left in the scabbard, halfbreed,” the veteran tells me. “Were your blood pure, you would understand that.”
“Aanta da’si kai,” another murmurs, touching the glyf at her brow.
We were born for war.
I sigh, shake my head at Saedii. Her smile only grows. She delights in this, I realize. Gets off on it. Struggle. Strife. These people were raised to see conflict as the path to perfection. Maybe that’s why she’s keeping me around.
I see her eyes drift to the bite marks on my throat. I feel a flicker of hunger in my head. But this isn’t a game, and I’m exhausted and I’m afraid for my sister and my friends and feeling like I’ve been running forever and haven’t moved an inch.
And worst of all, I sense that dream, the one that woke me here, still echoing somewhere in my skull as the room begins to spin, and I press one hand to my aching brow.
The walls around me, the color of rainbows.
The ground shaking beneath my feet.
“You look unwell, Terran,” Saedii says.
I lower my hand, growl, “I’m fine.”
She smiles so wide I can see the sharpened teeth at the corners of her mouth. “If you wish to return to bed—”
“Forget me,” I snap, temper fraying. “You’re giving the Ra’haam what it wants. It’s using you, Saedii.”
“I am no one’s pawn.”
“Then don’t act like it. You’re smarter than this.”
“And smarter than you. Forget not whose captive you are.”
“And whose captive would you still be, if not for me?”
“You saved your own skin as well as mine.” Saedii tilts her head, eyes locked on mine. “Do not believe it buys you any favor, boy.”
“I’m not asking for favor,” I snap. “I’m asking you not to be an idiot.”
Saedii’s amused smile fades. An alarm buzzes in my head:
Technical foul on the play. One-point penalty.
Tyler Jones: 2
Saedii Gilwraeth: 1
Whoops. Too far …
The temperature around me drops several degrees. The flicker of Saedii’s mind in mine suddenly vanishes, like she’s slammed an iron door between us. And glancing to her First Paladin, the Templar speaks.
“It appears our guest is wearied after his ordeal, Erien.” She flips a braid off her shoulder. “See him safely situated in appropriate quarters.”
“Saedii—”
“Your will, Templar.”
She turns to her other crew members, begins issuing orders in Syldrathi. But my eyes are on Erien as he rises, looming over me. His beautiful face hard as stone, distorted by his scar, silver hair drawn back in seven thick braids, each decorated by a desiccated Syldrathi ear.
“Move,” he says.
I look at Saedii. But she’s ignoring me now, her mind closed off tight. I shouldn’t have let my temper get the best of me. That was stupid—I backed her into a corner, and she’s come out swinging.
My skull is pounding as I close my eyes, rise to my feet. The air hums with the sound of engines and the growing current of galactic war. My mind still echoing with the voice of my dream.
… you still have a chance of fixing this, Tyler Jones …
But I can’t see how.
Maker help me, I can’t see how.
5
FINIAN
That Terran pilot blows us up three more times before she finally gives up on it. Each time, Scar and I reappear in the corridor outside the engine room. Each time, Scarlett presses her lips to mine as we explode in a white-hot ball of plasma.
Maybe it’s just some kind of universal justice. I finally get to snog Scarlett Jones, and reality implodes because it’s all too improbable.
But after the eighth time our new friend pulls the trigger, Scarlett and I rematerialize outside the engine bay, waiting for the inevitable, and nothing happens. No screaming alarms. No missile lock warning. Nothing.
Scar has her head tilted. Waiting.
“… She’s not killing us,” she mutters.
“Progress!” I’m grinning like an idiot. It’s not just because we weren’t blown up, to be honest.
Scar tries to muster a smile in response, but I can see how weirded out by all this she is. Honestly, I can’t blame her. In the last few weeks, this girl has lost her best friend, her brother, and now, apparently, her whole reality.
I reach for her hands, wrapping my fingers around hers, squeezing gently. “I know this is crazy,” I say softly. “I’m as freaked out as you are. But whatever this is, we’ll figure it out, okay?”
She manages a better smile for that, and despite all the insanity around us, I feel my heart flutter at the sight.
Maker, she’s beautiful.
Scarlett leans close, kisses me soft on the lips. “You’re sweet.”
“Don’t tell anybody. I’ve got a reputation as a wiseass to maintain.”
“Come on then, wiseass,” she smiles. “Let’s go see our Brain.”