Palatine First (The Aurelian Archives) Read Free

back on, and cool, fresh air erupted out of the air vents under the students’ seats, replenishing the oxygen supply. As the horrible shaking stopped, the ship’s spin slowed, slowed till Reece and his companion slid down the wall and landed in a dazed heap.
    “At…at least you didn’t get sick…” Reece panted, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve.
    “I don’t get airsick,” the other boy gasped. “I have…food poisoning.”
    A snort burst out of Reece before he could stop it. “Right. And I’m—”
    It was instantaneous. If the bus-ship were a push bike, Reece would have said that the captain had back-pedaled, throwing the whole thing into a midair halt. The other Tens flew forward into their safety gear while Reece and the boy sailed down the aisle with strangled cries.
    The landing was, if not quite comfortable, still softer than Reece could’ve hoped for. And it had some bounce to it, as if the wall actually had give. Rolling down onto the floor for the third time in just a few short minutes, Reece groaningly looked over his shoulder. They had landed on, of all things, a grey inflatable life raft which was quickly deflating, melting down over their shaking bodies.
    “Bleeding bogrosh,” Reece muttered, lying down on his stomach with his arms spread at his sides. He glared at the nearest porthole window. Going by the fine blue sky outside, the ship had made it through Atlas’s atmosphere.
    “Hey.” Someone kicked the raft away from Reece. “You okay?”
    Reece pushed up onto his knees and returned the Pan’s strange blue stare without really registering the warmth sliding down his forearm. “Yeah…did you do that?”
    “What, save your life?” The Pan gave a wolfish grin and leaned back in his seat, satisfied.
    “Ladies and gentlemen,” a warbling voice came over the intercom, “a medic will be circling the cabin shortly. Please remain stationary and raise your hand if you require attention. We will be making a smooth landing presently. Thank you.”
    With a small whimper, Bifocal Boy wriggled his way out from under the raft, clutching his broken lenses in a white fist and looking ready to heave. But what he did was look at Reece, look at the Pan, look at his bifocals, and then lay the side of his face flat against the cabin’s floor and raise his hand to wait on help.
    “I’m Reece Sheppard. What’s your name?” He couldn’t very well call him Bifocal Boy for forever, even if it did have a kind of ring to it.
    The boy opened one blue-grey eye and attempted a feeble smile. “Hayden. Hayden Rice.” Surprising Reece, Hayden rolled his eye up towards the Pan and said, “And you?”
    The Pan looked a little taken aback, and slouched deeper in his seat. “Gideon Creed. From Panteda,” he emphasized.
    “That was…good of you,” said Hayden matter-of-factly, but not unkindly.
    Gideon studied both Hayden and Reece with a kind of suspicious curiosity, his eyes narrowed, and said nothing.
    The medical assistant came, looking shaken and a little sick herself, and tended to Hayden, who had rolled his ankle. Reece waited patiently for his turn as he pushed up his sleeve and whistled at the impressive gash on his elbow. It didn’t really hurt, but it was messy, and everyone was staring at him, Hayden, and Gideon with eyes the size of cricket balls.
    “Is it true?” Reece asked Gideon suddenly. “What they say about Panteda?” He was referring to the war and the acid fog, but as soon as he’d spoken, he wondered if there were other, less nice things people said about Panteda that he’d never heard.
    Gideon straightened, his icy eyes measuring for an uncomfortably long moment. Then he suddenly grinned, and it was the kind of smile that made a person feel like they’d just made an ally.
    “Every bit’a it.”
     
     

     
    I I
     
     
    (Almost) Plummet ing to a Fiery Death
     
     
    Reece turned about in front of the four-paneled mirror for the third time, scanning and