Page 30 of Aviatrix

I press my fingers into the denim of my back pocket, feeling the hard outline of what Eli slipped to me. A thumb drive. Small. Cold. Heavy with implication. I want to look at it. Plug it in. Understand why Eli would risk everything to pass me something in secret. Does it have something about the alien attack on it?

But not yet.

Lark lifts his gaze to me. “I’ve only seen the word Legion once in my life. Just once.”

The name coils in my stomach like a loaded question. I say nothing.

“It was years ago,” he continues. “My dad was still a senator. I was home from the Academy for winter break. I stopped by his office and he wasn’t there. His assistant let me wait. I was bored, so I looked at his calendar. That’s when I saw it.”

Lark’s voice goes quiet, almost like he’s afraid to summon the memory aloud.

“Just one word,” he continues. “Written in red ink. Legion. No time. No details. No context. Just… that. On a date that meant nothing. Not a vote. Not a meeting. Not even a weekend. Just random.”

A flash of unease pulls across his face like a shadow.

“I asked him about it,” he adds. “He said it was nothing. My dad doesn’t scribble. And he doesn’t scare easy. But something about that word made him lie to me.”

I swallow hard. “Do you think it’s connected?”

“I do,” he admits. “I didn’t at first. Not until you said they made contact with you. That they mentioned coming for it.”

The thumb drive burns against my palm now. Like it’s begging to be pulled out and looked at.

“I think,” Lark says slowly, “my father knows what the Legion is. And I think it scared him enough not to write anything else about it.”

I glance over my shoulder at the door behind me. The silence on the other side feels too deep. Too thick. I shift my stance, my fingers never leaving the drive in my pocket.

“And you think this has something to do with the attack?” I ask.

“I think this has everything to do with it.”

My heart stutters. Not from fear, but from knowing we’ve crossed a threshold. This isn’t just about an invasion anymore. This is about secrets planted long before either of us knew to ask the right questions.

And I’ve got a thumb drive in my pocket that might hold the answers we’re both chasing.

“But why would they attack our base?” I question. “Why would they make contact with me and not you?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But if they contacted you once, they’ll try again. We need to keep moving. We’ll stay here tonight, then we’ll head to San Diego.”

“We’re running?” I ask. “Not fighting?”

What about Alien Warfare? Isn’t he lead?

Lark leans back in the chair, defeated. “I will run as fast and as far as I need to if it keeps you safe, Kin.”

My heart slams against my ribs. He never says things like this.

“We are going to run out of places to go,” I tell him.

“When Amelia died,” he starts, the sound of his dead wife’s name like sandpaper on his tongue, “I felt like it was my fault. I still do. I know it wasn’t, but… some feelings don’t care about facts.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I wrap my arms around myself. I don’t want to feel sorry for him. But the worst part? I do. I remember he’s human and I hate that it undoes me.

His blue eyes flick to mine. “I failed her. And I’ve failed you.”

“What does that mean?” I try again.

Lark pushes off the chair and takes three long strides forward, until he’s standing right in front of me.