“Attention, Glass Slipper personnel. Hull breach on Decks 13 through 17.”
The loudspeaker temporarily drowns out everything else, and when it cuts out, an annoying siren starts whooping instead.
“Move,” says the lieutenant behind us, poking me between the shoulder blades with her gun.
“I don’t want to,” I say.
“What he said,” Scarlett agrees.
“Attention, Glass Slipper personnel. All engineering staff report to Gamma Section, Deck 12, immediately.”
“This will end poorly,” Zila predicts again.
“Kim!” a voice roars. “Where the hell have you been?”
We shamble to a stop, and Kim comes to attention. The speaker is bearing down on us out of the red light and smoke, a huge, broad-shouldered man with no hair on his head but one of those weird mustaches Terrans grow, looking like it’s trying to crawl out of his nostrils. When he spots me, his eyes bulge wide, and my stomach crawls up into my chest.
“What the hell?” he barks. “Is that a goddamned Betraskan? Explain yourself, soldier!”
“Apologies, sir!” Kim salutes. “I tried to raise command on comms but got no response! These three broke the exclusion zone, sir!”
“So shoot them!” he roars.
BOOM.
The whole place shudders as something, somewhere, explodes.
“WARNING: CONTAINMENT BREACH. EVACUATE DECKS 5 THROUGH 6 IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: CONTAINMENT BREACH—”
Kim raises her voice over the clamor. “Sir, I think the anomalies surrounding their arrival warrant Sci-Div’s attentions. If it wasn’t urgent—”
“I’ll tell you what’s urgent, Lieutenant,” he snarls. “The containment field around the core is breached, half the upper decks are locked down, and thirty-six people are confirmed dead, including Dr. Pinkerton! The whole goddamn station is coming to pieces around us, and you choose now to bring Betraskan spies into a classified facility? Are you insane?”
CRASH.
Out in the storm, the dark lights up, black to roiling mauve, as a pulse of dark energy directly strikes the sail. The energy burst is so intense that even catching it through my contacts from the corner of my eye, my vision is momentarily lost to the afterimages. I blink furiously as the pulse runs up the cable at the speed of light, cascading into the station itself. A bank of computers to our right explodes in a spray of sparks. A new blast of louder, more annoying alarms screams through the loudspeakers. I almost miss Zila’s words when she mutters to herself beside me.
“Quantum pulse, forty-four minutes after arrival.”
The deck commander’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is that?”
The man raises his pistol, and my heart lurches as he points it square at Scarlett. Scar lifts her hands higher, takes a step back, and through the smoke and chaos and burning sparks, I see that her necklace has begun …
Maker’s breath, her necklace is glowing.
That chunk of Eshvaren crystal Adams and de Stoy left for us in Emerald City is burning on her chest. The light is black, painful to look at, just like the pulse out in the storm.
“WARNING: CONTAINMENT BREACH CRITICAL. EVACUATE DECKS 2 THROUGH 10 IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: CONTAINMENT BREACH CRITICAL.”
“Kim, didn’t you check them for weapons?” the Terran roars.
“Yessir, b—”
“Well, what the hell is that?”
“I don’t know!” Scarlett cries, backing away. “Please, I don’t!”
“WARNING: CONTAINMENT BREACH UNDER WAY, ENGAGE EMERGENCY MEASURES DECK 11.”
Zila speaks directly to Kim, ignoring everything around us.
“I told you this would not work.”
The Terran lifts his weapon, pointing it at Zila.
“Sir,” Kim tries, desperate now. “They—”
“You’re headed for the brig, Kim!” he roars, thumbing off the safety.
“Hey!”
Oh chakk, that was me.
Time slows as he swings his weapon around toward me, and I see the beginning of the movement as he pulls the trigger.
And though it feels like it takes forever, I only have time for one thought.
I couldn’t bear to watch him shoot them.
I’m glad it’s me first.
BLAM.
6
AURI
I awaken surrounded by the dead. A sea of staring faces, Syldrathi Waywalkers caught in a final moment of fear or pain or defiance, mouths agape, eyes wide. Adults and children are piled together, no longer pinned to the crystal walls above us by the force of the Starslayer’s will.
I lie among them on a floor littered with shards of crystal, catching sidelong glimpses of the bodies through my lashes as I force my aching eyes open, then lose the battle and slam them closed once more.
I can’t sense Kal’s mind.
Everything hurts—every muscle in my body screams, my head pounds. But beneath the throbbing ache, I hear the echoes of the power I summoned—that massive burst of energy pouring through me into the Weapon and out again, running out from my spine, all the way to my fingertips. And the memory awakens something like … exhilaration.
I ignore the pain, focus my thoughts, sending a midnight blue tendril out through the last remnants of the Way walkers’ dying screams. It’s like searching for one particular tree in a thick, overgrown forest. But even the faintest hints of those screams are fading now, and my silver-laced blue finds nothing, nothing, nothing.
He must be too far away.
I must be too weak.
The last thing I remember is the Weapon firing—that colossal burst of energy meant to destroy the sun, and Earth and everyone on it. I couldn’t stop it, but I tried to turn its energy inward, to protect the fleet around us, to protect the planet, its sun, to stop …
… Caersan.
The Starslayer.
I scramble onto all fours, heart pounding and head swimming with just that effort, my own breath harsh in my ears as I fight to stay upright.
The man responsible for the murder all around me is close, lying at the foot of his crystal throne, his red cloak splayed around him. He’s stirring groggily, braids thrown back to reveal the ruined side of his face. The glow of his eye shines through the spiderweb of scars along his temple and cheek, as if he’s lit from within. The light pulses softly, maybe in time with his heartbeat, and I sit back on my haunches, lifting one hand to the right side of my own face. The skin feels rough beneath my fingertips.
I can’t sense Kal anywhere.
Then his father’s mind brushes up against mine, the dark red of dried blood, and a gold that’s too like Kal’s, and his eyes snap open, focusing on me.
He did all of this. He’s responsible for every drop of this blood, this destruction, this pain.
And as our eyes meet, he smiles.
I’m moving before I have time to think—I grab a sharp shard of crystal and push up like a runner coming out of the blocks, lunging for him like I’m going to stake a vampire.
He surges up to one knee to meet me, and his backhand sends me stumbling into the throne, the world whirling by—I grab at it to stay upright, and he’s swaying too, dark purple blood dripping from his nose, his lips drawn back in a snarl now.
He did this.
The dead Waywalkers.