Part VIII: Mobilized and discouraged

Jyra had no idea how long she had slept before Berk awakened her to give the news about the fleet cruising ahead of them. While the work with Leonick hadn’t been physically demanding, it left her wanting nothing more than to lie down for another few hours. Instead Jyra’s mind was back in action as she sat on her cot, considering Neeka’s information.

Why would a Nilcyn fleet be heading for Tyrorken? TF owned the only valuable assets on Jyra’s home world and they were well protected. What if the fleet fired on the resistance ship? Berk said Mastranada didn’t have any projectile weapons on board. Fleeing an attack was their only defense.

Jyra put her forehead in her palms and rubbed her scalp with her fingers. The moment she left Tyrorken, she no longer recognized the pace of her life. It felt as though no time had passed since she left her planet. Despite the risk of an attack, Jyra felt a sense of relief for the presence of the Nilcyn fleet. Were it not for the enemy ships, Mastranada would still be flying toward Tyrorken at top speed and there would be no opportunity for rest.

The comfort of this idea lasted mere moments because Derek entered her thoughts next. Neeka was right. Every delay extended Derek’s imprisonment. Jyra tried not to think about what the TF agents might have done to him, but she hoped they had at least had the kindness to bandage his leg. She imagined helping Derek limp down one of the sterile corridors of the TF complex, guiding him to safety. She had only been to the building a few times to visit her parents at work. The hallway she envisioned resembled the one that led to her father’s office. Jyra remembered then that they didn’t know where TF was holding Derek.

Ignoring the urge to lie down, Jyra left her room for the cockpit. She couldn’t sit doing nothing while the ship sat motionless in space and Derek languished in a cell. Neeka was still in Berk’s seat, her elbows on the console and her hands clamping her head, forcing her eyes to remain on the monitor.

“Everything all right?” Jyra asked, taking her seat. Neeka didn’t break her gaze with the screen even as she replied.

“Yeah.” The sound of her voice contradicted the word. Jyra glanced at Neeka’s monitor and saw the red of the code characters marching across it.

“What are they saying?” Jyra said.

“I don’t know,” Neeka said. “I’m trying to remember where I’ve seen this code. It’s bothering me so much, I can’t get to sleep.”

“Would it help if we got moving again?” Jyra said.

Neeka finally looked away from the screen.

“It might,” she said. “If you think it won’t upset Berk too much.”

“The Nilcyns are beyond eyesight now,” Jyra said, surveying the star-studded canvas ahead. She powered up the engine thrusters and felt the vibration climb out of the floor into her boots.

Neeka smiled, switched off her monitor, and stood up.

“Time to give sleep another try,” she said, walking toward the exit. “Thanks,” she added.

“Get some rest,” Jyra said. “We’ll be there soon, I expect.” She transferred to Berk’s seat, turned the monitor back on, and pulled up the coordinates Berk entered into the nav computer. They had at least four hours of the journey left. Jyra flipped a switch and the proximity radar map filled the screen. The pulsing destination dot flickered over Tyrorken. The Nilcyn fleet was about halfway between Mastranada and Jyra’s home world.

Jyra swallowed hard, unable to keep from thinking about her parents. What would they do after their daughter destroyed their office? Would they come with her or remain on Tyrorken to make a new life?

She could not deny she missed their faces and the comfort of their embrace. The feelings didn’t warm Jyra as they once did. Thoughts of her parents were now overshadowed by Dario’s death, his funeral, and how Jyra had been contracted to follow the same line of work. Her parents had set it all up and though she knew she played a role in fracturing the relationship with her mother and father, she thought they were more responsible. She tried to control her breathing, which became more uneven as she reflected on her home life.

“One thing at a time,” she told herself. Jyra switched the monitor input again and saw their arrival estimate had increased. She remembered what Berk had said about the Drometica and Tyrorken rotating in opposite directions. Whatever coordinates had been entered, the planet would likely make another full turn on its axis and bring the destination closer to Mastranada.

The sound of boots thudding on the steel floor announced Berk’s arrival. Jyra turned to face him as he filled the cockpit entrance.

“Why are we moving?” he said.

“The fleet’s far enough ahead,” Jyra replied. “And Neeka’s right. The longer we sit out here, the longer Derek is at the mercy of TF.”

“I gave the order to cut the engines,” Berk said.

“And I followed that order. Now I’ve restarted the engines.”

“Because of Derek,” Berk said, taking a seat in Jyra’s usual chair. “You’re afraid of what’s happening to him.”

“Aren’t you?” Jyra said.

“Yes,” Berk said. “But I don’t let that fear dictate my decisions. You start acting on feeling alone and you’ll lose focus.”

“I’m also trying to carry out the plan, which is to get to Tyrorken,” Jyra said.

“What matters more?” Berk said, unscrewing the cap on a flask. “Reaching our destination or rescuing Derek?”

“Why does it matter?” Jyra snapped. “How long were you planning to have us wait out here? Come to think of it, who put you in charge? I thought Macnelia was leading this attack.”

Jyra felt a surge of satisfaction to see Berk swelling, as though preparing to shout a reply. Her irritation blocked out any fear or consideration of Berk’s size or possible temper. His face contorted and he turned away, hunching his shoulders. Jyra stifled a cry of surprise as Berk grunted and punched the wall, sinking his fist into the metal. Berk raised his head to gulp whiskey from his open flask, which he set on the console. He swiveled toward Jyra and stared at his knees.

“Macnelia is the leader of the resistance,” Berk said. “But she’s had a rough few weeks. As I said, too much emotional influence can interfere with one’s actions.” He opened and closed the fingers he had just rammed into the panel.

“That’s what’s happening to Macnelia right now,” he continued. “It’s happened to me and I don’t want it to happen to you.”

 He paused again, but finally lifted his head and Jyra saw Berk’s glittering eyes staring into hers.

“Feel what you are going to feel, but don’t let it lead you to do anything irrational,” Berk said. “When I drink, it dulls the rash actions my emotions command. Something leftover from my hospital days.”

Jyra felt an urge to cut the engines again. She glanced at Berk’s injured hand and saw dark bruises forming on his knuckles. Still shaken by his physical outburst, Jyra tried to take the conversation in a new direction.

“How do you know Macnelia’s upset?” she said.

“I talked to her,” Berk said. “It turns out—” he paused once more and Jyra could tell he was deciding whether he should share the information.

“She’s obviously angry about the time bomb,” he said.

“She was angry at you for accusing her of setting it incorrectly and sabotaging the resistance,” Jyra said.

“That’s how it appeared,” Berk said, nodding. “But after discussing it with her, she believes she made a mistake. Macnelia’s mad at herself and the anger is compounded because her error nearly destroyed all of us. Add in her personal turmoil and it’s enough to unhinge anyone.”

Jyra wasn’t sure what to think. She was getting used to the bombardment of questions that tended to rush into her mind, as though the words she heard shattered a dam holding back the thoughts.

“What happened when she set the bomb?” she said.

“She doesn’t remember,” Berk said. “All she can recall is taking pictures of the main cavern and walking to and from the battery bank.”

“There’s a gap in her memory?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t you had times when you wanted to recall something specific, but all you can remember is something that took place around the time of what you’re seeking in your memory?”

“I guess so,” Jyra said. “I wonder if Neeka’s going through something like that right now.”

“What do you mean?”

Jyra explained about the code Neeka swore she recognized, but that she couldn’t recall where she had seen it before or what it meant.

“Maybe her worries about Derek are interfering,” Berk suggested. “Macnelia is also upset about what might happen to him.”

“She hasn’t seemed that concerned about Derek,” Jyra said.

“Because she hasn’t shown it,” Berk said. “She didn’t let the weight of it get to her until now. The simplest way to describe Macnelia at the moment is she’s dealing with a lot of repressed sadness. She’s been too busy to feel, but the impact finally broke through and overwhelmed her.”

Jyra thought of the bomb riding underneath the ship. She hoped Macnelia had been of sound mind whenever she worked on the explosive. Leonick had helped out, too Jyra reminded herself, and the brief worry passed.

She was about to inquire if Macnelia had mentioned anything to Berk that referenced her comment about being left behind on Drometica, but Berk pointed at the screen by Jyra.

“What’re they doing?” he said, leaving his chair to crouch beside Jyra, who swiveled to stare at the monitor.

The radar map showed the Nilcyn fleet had reached Tyrorken. The ships remained visible, which meant they weren’t penetrating the atmosphere. The fleet moved into a different formation, becoming a tight crescent that spun with Tyrorken’s rotation.

“They’re targeting something,” Berk said. “If they hold that position, we just need enter the planet from the side opposite them. Keep the engines at full and we can get there before the fleet comes around again.”

A fresh thought of her parents’ safety replaced the flood of questions about Macnelia in Jyra’s mind.

                        *

Mastranada glided onward, closing in on Tyrorken. Berk and Jyra delved into the ship’s computer, pretending to be interested in running more diagnostics. Instead, they both sought work to block out their real concerns. Jyra could only stand twenty minutes of the mindless search on the monitor before her curiosity got the better of her and she left the cockpit hoping to talk with Macnelia.

“We’ll need to fill up the water tanks soon,” Berk said, as Jyra crossed to the exit.

“I wouldn’t trust the water in them now given how long this shipe was likely in the yard,” Jyra replied. “Then again, I wouldn’t trust the water on Tyrorken either.”

She passed the galley and, out of the corner of her eye, saw a shadow moving on a wall inside the room. Jyra stepped over the threshold and saw Shandra crouched by a crate, unloading the food from it and stacking the goods in a lower cupboard. Though she wore a long-sleeve shirt, one of the sleeves was pushed back, revealing the scars on her arms. She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Can I help?” Jyra asked. Shandra nodded. Jyra knelt down and began pulling cans of soup from the crate.

“What’s this?” she said, staring at the unfamiliar label.

“Tomato soup,” Shandra said.

“Never heard of it.”

“Most people I meet haven’t,” Shandra said. She yawned as she took the can out of Jyra’s hand to place it in the cupboard.

“Can’t sleep?” Jyra said. Shandra dropped her arms to her sides, tugging the crumpled sleeve down over her skin and crossing her arms.

“No, I can’t,” she snapped. “Does it matter?”

Jyra pushed herself off the floor and opened her mouth with no idea what she was about to say.

“What is with everyone?” she demanded. Shandra’s eyes grew wide with shock and she leaned back toward the crate like a cowering pet.

Jyra turned on her heel and stalked out of the galley, wishing she’d bypassed it in the first place. She wasn’t sure if Macnelia wanted to talk, but she had to try. Jyra knocked on her door and waited. When the door didn’t open, she knocked again.

After a minute or two, the door slid back and Macnelia stood behind it, her hair tangled and the skin under her eyes sagged.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The Nilcyn fleet ahead of us has moved into an attack formation around Tyrorken,” Jyra said. “We’re heading at full speed to enter the planet opposite the Nilcyns.”

“What Nilcyn fleet?” Macnelia said, rubbing the back of her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought—” Jyra realized right then that Berk hadn’t actually told Macnelia about the enemy ships.

“May I come in?” Jyra asked. Macnelia turned away from the door and sat on her cot. Jyra closed the door and sat in the nearby chair, which was studier than the one in her room. Macnelia looked sickly in the light reflecting off the pale green walls.

“There is a Nilcyn fleet ahead, likely the same one that hit Horbson,” Jyra said. “If all goes according to plan, we’ll be through Tyrorken’s atmosphere before they can detect us.”

“That’s a big ‘if,’” Macnelia said. She held up her hand with the tips of her thumb and forefinger nearly touching. “I’m this close to calling this whole thing off.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra said. “We can’t. Derek needs our help.”

Macnelia seemed to be deflating where she sat. Jyra hardly recognized the vibrant woman she had talked to in the presence of the bomb she designed.

“We can do this,” Jyra said firmly. “We’ve done so much and gotten this far.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this mission since I got the news,” Macnelia said. Jyra didn’t have to ask; she knew “the news” referred to Dario’s death.

“I’m wondering what good can come of more carnage,” Macnelia continued. “When we drop the bomb on those TF people, they have families and people who care about them and who are going to miss them as much as I miss Dario.”

A sudden surge of comprehension coursed through Jyra as she realized Macnelia struggled with guilt similar to her own regarding the death of the shipyard guard. For a moment, it was impossible to see any distinction, but the difference emerged.

“That may be true,” Jyra said. “But as you told me, this is about more than that. TF threatens the future of the entire planet. It’s on the cusp of compromising every human life on Tyrorken. The families of the TF employees might have to mourn their loved ones from the comfort of a transport as they fly away from the dying world, but at least they’ll be alive. This resistance represents a last stand for Tyrorken.”

“You sound like you should be in charge of this campaign,” Macnelia said, finally allowing a small smile to creep across her face.

“Berk said you were leader,” Jyra said.

“I suppose,” Macnelia said vaguely.

Jyra took a deep breath, realizing she was about to reveal that Berk shared information from his conversation with Macnelia.

“Do you remember what you were thinking about when you set the time bomb?”

Macnelia’s smile vanished and her expression became cold. She glared at Jyra, but then directed her gaze at the floor, squinting.

“I was thinking about Dario,” she said. “I was thinking that I was about to avenge his death. But I had competing thoughts that were quite similar to the ones I just shared. Would this mission get back at those responsible for Dario’s death? I still can’t answer that question and I keep expecting a definitive reply to present itself. While I’m waiting, we’re on our way to fulfill the mission anyway. So it sounds like I’ve already decided. But of course I haven’t. These thoughts keep going around, like a ship circling a planet and they distract me. That very distraction nearly took out this ship and everyone on it.”

“Why did you tell me you wouldn’t have been surprised if we left you behind?” Jyra said.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Macnelia said. Her lips curved into a wry smile. “I thought I was going crazy. No resistance needs someone in that state because they make mistakes. There’s a big difference between planning an attack like this and then actually carrying it out. I can handle the slow buildup, but the rushing execution brings out the worst in me. During the planning stage lives generally aren’t put on the line. Now we’re on our way to destroy who knows how many.”

“It’s worth it,” Jyra said. Macnelia wiped her eyes and pushed her hair back with one hand.

“I’m glad you think so,” she said.

                        *

Jyra wished she could keep working on the energy cores in order to ease her mind. As she wandered through the ship, she thought about the question she’d blurted after the frosty exchange with Shandra. It was easy to understand Neeka’s concern for Derek. Jyra found it harder to pinpoint the trigger of Macnelia’s misery, but Berk’s idea of repressed feelings seemed likely. Of course, Berk was also distressed, but Jyra figured he was agitated over her and Macnelia’s wellbeing. She couldn’t determine the source of Shandra’s irritation and wondered if anyone aboard might have any clues. As far as Jyra could tell, neither Craig nor Leonick were affected by the gloom that had spread throughout Mastranada.

Still absorbed in her pondering, Jyra returned to the cockpit and saw Berk sitting in front of his console.

“Any more news about our water supplies?” Jyra said.

“It’s more fascinating than you can imagine,” Berk replied. He threw back his head and drained his flask, which he dropped to the floor. Jyra noticed three others scattered around his boots.

“How many flasks do you own?” she asked, scooping them up from under him. She screwed all the caps on and dumped the collection on the console.

“Six,” Berk said. “Why? Do you have one you want to give me?”

“No,” Jyra said, taking her seat while trying to ignore the dented panel next to her. “It just looks like you’ve been drinking more than usual, though there’s nothing usual about it.”

“That’s reminds me of something unusual I found,” Berk said, sitting up in his chair. “Apparently, the air mixture in here is higher in 02 than most ships. I know Leonick was using a torch in the engine room and I think the air in there is probably even enough for that. However, open flame elsewhere might be a bit risky.” 

“Does anyone aboard smoke?” Jyra asked.

“If they do, we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”

“I’m serious.”

“I haven’t seen anyone with cigarettes,” Berk said. “I think we’re safe.”

Jyra saw Tyrorken looming before them and leaned back to check Berk’s screen, but it was too far away to see clearly.

“What’s our arrival status?” she asked.

“We’re about two hours from the new coordinates,” Berk said. “They’ll be moving away from us soon, though. That said, I think we’ll be on the ground in no more than three hours.”

“I might get some more sleep if you’ve got things squared away here,” Jyra said, standing and stretching her arms behind her head.

Berk reached across the console to access the air processor controls and his sleeve brushed the empty flasks. They clattered to the floor and he sat back to stare at the mess. Then Berk glanced at Jyra over his shoulder.

“I’m all right,” he said. Jyra raised her eyebrows in reply and left the cockpit.

She settled on her cot, surrendering to the fatigue that crept in from her extremities. The barrage of thoughts lost their distinction and entwined with each other. As she closed her eyes, Jyra envisioned the ideas coalescing in a long, shining rope that stretched into the depths of her mind. Sleep switched off her consciousness and she murmured to herself in the darkness of her room.

“I’m more than these thoughts.”

                        *

The cot slid sideways and Jyra rolled off of it. Though disoriented and still half asleep, she threw out her arms and braced herself as she was pitched into a corner of her room. The gentle vibration had been replaced by a constant lurching of the ship. Jyra retrieved her boots, which had migrated to another corner, and pulled them on. Clinging to the wall of the passage, she made her way to the cockpit. Berk was where she had left him. Macnelia clung to back of his chair and a dusty glaring light flooded over the consoles. A particularly wild jerk threw Jyra into the cockpit and she caught herself on her chair. She hastily took her seat and clipped into the safety harness. The roar of air rushing over the exterior of the ship filled their ears.

“What’s going on?” Jyra shouted, as though she were speaking in the middle of a hurricane.

“Local air pressure’s too thin to support us!” Berk shouted. “We keep hitting patches that slow us down, but aside from those, we’re in a freefall toward the planet.”

Jyra did her best to review the gravity data, but her fingers keep slamming the incorrect keys on the keyboard, which shook as violently as Mastranada. The ship’s haphazard descent flummoxed the G sensors. Jyra saw the artificial gravity system actuator clicking on and off because the readings on Tyrorken’s gravity kept fluctuating.

“Altitude?” Jyra said.

“Can’t say!” Berk hollered. “No reading!”

Mastranada plunged through clouds, all various shades of brown. Despite the flashing warning lights and intermittent blaring of alarms, Jyra couldn’t block out the churning feeling in her stomach. A dull tan haze was all she could see through the cockpit glass. The ship suddenly flipped forward as the aft launch thruster caught a dense patch of air the front thruster missed. The stern-over-bow tumbling caused the engines to speed the ship toward the ground and then immediately counteract that trajectory.

“Get out of here!” Berk shouted to Macnelia as her body fell over his; she managed to maintain a grip on the back of his seat.

“It’s not safe!” Jyra said. “Go!”

Macnelia slid off the seat and clambered for the exit as the ship began the rotation of its second flip.

“We need a blast from the engines!” Jyra said. “Break the momentum of the flip!”

Berk raised a thumb from his fist and nodded.

“At negative one hundred and ten!” Jyra said. She stared at the brown haze through the cockpit glass as she hung upside down in her harness.

As Berk fired the engines and Mastranada shot toward the ground, Jyra felt the pressure in her ears relax. Her body also eased off the back of her seat, indicating the speed of the ship’s descent decreased.

“Altitude?” she shouted.

“We have a reading!” Berk said. “Twenty thousand and we’re stabilizing.”

The rushing sound of air faded and the computer reoriented the launch thrusters to correct Mastranada’s landing position. The ship dropped through the haze and Jyra finally glimpsed the surface of her home world again. She ignored the thought of her parents that threatened to push into her mind and focused instead on landing procedures.

“Any read on where we are relative to TF headquarters?” Jyra said. Berk shook his head.

“The computer’s still calibrating,” he said. “We should extend the legs, though. We’ll be on the ground soon.”

Mastranada landed in a vast plain under a caramel colored sky. The few trees in sight had twisted trunks and had long been dehydrated by the punishing climate.

Jyra unclipped from the harness and stood up, hoping her stomach would settle.

“Until the computer catches up, we won’t know much,” Berk said.

Jyra left the cockpit and headed to the cargo bay. The straps had held most of the supplies in place. A few loose crates had been tossed about the room during the landing, but the damage appeared minimal. Jyra stepped into the passageway, preferring to use the smaller door, rather than empty most of the fresh air from the ship out of the cargo bay. She was about to open the door, when she heard a voice behind her.

“Watch out for the hull plates. They’re still too hot to touch.”

Jyra turned and saw Shandra leaning against the wall. She looked disheveled, likely caused by the tumultuous landing.

“I will,” Jyra said. “I’m not even sure why I want to go out there. The air’s horrible.”

Shandra approached, rubbing her right arm with her left hand.

“Sorry about earlier,” she said. “Sometimes my anger gets the better of me.”

“Happens to all of us,” Jyra said, hoping she sounded both nonchalant and sincere.

“It’s just—” Shandra paused. Jyra was suddenly reminded of when Berk had hesitated before sharing the information about the causes of Macnelia’s frustration.

“I used to be a metalworker,” Shandra said. “All the scars on my arms were from regular work, except for one.”

She stopped talking again at the sound of hurried footsteps. Neeka appeared at the end of the passage.

“Is the computer up yet?” she asked, rushing toward Shandra and Jyra. Her eyes wide and her hands clenched near her stomach.

“What is it?” Jyra said.

“I remember,” Neeka said. “The Nilcyn code. I remember where I’ve seen it before!”

Part VII: Core work

The vast frontier of space appeared through the cockpit glass. Jyra leaned back in her seat, searching for Tyrorken amid the stars. Though she scanned the depthless view, her tan-colored home world eluded her eyes.

“You won’t see it yet,” Berk said, entering data for a course to Tyrorken into Mastranada’s nav computer. “Drometica’s facing the opposite direction and both planets have orbited away from each other.”

Jyra realized he must be right. Her ears and toes sensed the gentle hum of the engines. She only noticed it when she focused on the vibration. Berk pushed his matted hair back with his thick fingers and released an agitated sigh. Jyra didn’t have to ask what bothered him; it became apparent when Macnelia stepped into the cockpit behind them.

“She flies well,” Macnelia said, running her right hand up and down her camera strap.

“For a ship that escaped being crushed by a mountain,” Berk said. “When did you program the battery bomb?”

“What?” Macnelia said. Jyra watched her reaction closely. Her hand stopped on the camera strap, but her eyes widened with genuine concern.

“The countdown on the bomb,” Berk said. “You seemed to think it was set to go off in eight hours. Did you feel the blast when we took off? If we had been there a moment longer, the explosion would have swallowed this ship and all of us.”

Macnelia glanced briefly at Jyra, expecting to see some clue regarding Berk’s behavior.

“You think I deliberately tried to sabotage the entire resistance?” she said, bristling and taking a few steps farther into the cockpit.

“I think you haven’t answered my question,” Berk said.

“I set the bomb for eight hours,” Macnelia said, gritting her even teeth. “When we took off I felt a pulse in the air, but I thought it had something to do with the engines.”

“When did you start the time ticking?” Berk said.

“When you were flying the ship to clear the snow,” Macnelia replied. Berk fixed her with a scrutinizing look then turned back to his monitor.

“You don’t believe me?” Macnelia said.

“Unless you took a photo of the timer after you set it, no I don’t,” Berk said. He finished inputting the coordinates to the nav computer, stood up, and continued speaking as though the exchange with Macnelia hadn’t happened. “At least we’re heading in the right direction now. The ship’s on autopilot.”

“Everyone’s picking out rooms,” Macnelia said. “I want you both to get some shuteye during the trip. I think you need it,” she added, glaring at Berk.

Jyra left her seat and tried not to exit the cockpit too quickly, though she was eager to be out of the middle of the bickering. Berk’s boots tromped behind her.

The excess heat from the engines finally began circulating through the ship, but the large cargo bay still held the chill of the mountain air. Jyra only spent the amount of time necessary amid the crates to locate her duffel in the cold surroundings. As she moved down the main corridor, she could tell most of the rooms were occupied based on the scuffling sounds behind the closed doors.

She tapped on a promising door and heard no reply. The room behind it was almost entirely empty, except for an old wooden chair in one corner and a cot in another. Jyra stepped inside, wishing she had grabbed a heavy coat or blanket from the cargo bay. Before she could shut the door, Craig whispered her name. He was in the room directly aft from hers. She stepped out of the way so Craig could enter her quarters.

“All these rooms are rather uninspiring,” he said, taking a seat in the chair, which creaked under his weight.

“Just like the crew in some ways,” Jyra said, setting her duffel down. She explained the argument between Berk and Macnelia .

“Berk thinks Macnelia set the bomb to go off sooner on purpose?” Craig said, after hearing about the exchange.

“Seems that way,” Jyra said. “It’s hard to believe Macnelia would go as far as killing everyone, including herself, but she was acting weird. When I met her in the main cavern before we brought her luggage up she was taking pictures and she mentioned that she wouldn’t blame us if we left her behind.”

Craig leaned back in the chair and rubbed the whiskers sprouting around his mouth, considering the significance of Jyra’s revelation about Macnelia.

“This is a difficult time,” he said, dropping his hands into his lap. “You know me. I’ve known about the resistance plan for a while, but I’m still questioning what we’re doing. We’re taking the resistance to the next step, but bombing TF headquarters makes me uneasy. On the other hand, I feel like we’re avenging Dario’s death as well as saving the lives of everyone on Tyrorken who can’t escape when the planet becomes inhabitable.”

Jyra felt her stomach muscles clench at the sound of her brother’s name.

“That’s…strange,” she said, speaking as the thought entered her mind. “Macnelia said something similar. She tried to explain how what happened to Dario changed her outlook on the resistance.”

Jyra stopped talking as the force of emotion constricted her voice. It wasn’t sadness, but rather a fierce sense of bitterness. If only Dario had talked about the resistance. How had he really felt about it? It wasn’t something she could bear to hear from Macnelia, Craig, or, if they rescued him, Derek. She wanted the answer from her brother’s mouth and she couldn’t have that anymore. Craig watched her out of the corner of his eye and Jyra sensed his gaze.

“I wish I knew,” she began, urging her mind to jump ahead of her crawling speech. “I wish I knew if TF deliberately caused his death and what he thought the resistance should do.”

“How would that help?” Craig said gently.

“What happened to him has shaken those in the resistance,” Jyra said. “I understand better than anyone wanting to avenge his death, but without knowing what he wanted, it’s selfish. I feel like it undermines his memory.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Craig said.

“Of course you didn’t,” Jyra said. “No one does because they don’t know how he felt. That’s the point. I think Macnelia’s realizing that. Why are we doing what we’re doing if our motivation for doing so is fractured?”

“Because there’s a greater need,” Craig said. “And I agree that’s what we should be focused on. It’s hard. I’m still stuck on trying to talk Dario out of the oil work in the first place. Then there’s my own guilt of what we’re about to do. Even so, I continue realizing it’s much bigger than all that now.”

Jyra nodded and Craig sat back in the chair again, which creaked into the lengthy silence in the room.

“I just remembered something,” Craig said, adopting a new tone. “You said you’d tell me about Berk and his bullet wound.”

“I’ll tell you on the condition that you get me a blanket then let me get some sleep,” Jyra said.

Craig got up, went to his room, and returned with a blanket.

“Here you go,” he said. “What’s the story?”

Jyra explained Berk’s history on Silanpre and how he’d been held like a prisoner in the medical center.

“So his arm healed up that fast because of experimental chemicals they gave him in a corrupt hospital?” Craig said.

“That’s what he told me,” Jyra said. “And most people don’t have that kind of physique.”

 “That’s true,” he said, standing up to leave. “Thanks for the update. See you in a few hours.”

“See you then,” Jyra said, settling back onto the cot.

                        *

It didn’t take long before Jyra awoke to a knock on the door. She sat up, coaxing her dull muscles in action.

“What is it?” she said.

“We’ve got a problem,” Berk said through the door. “Get up to the bridge as soon as you can.”

Jyra kicked the blanket off and retied her hair. Her head felt twice as heavy as she shuffled into the corridor. She reached the cockpit and dropped into her seat.

Neeka crouched next to Berk’s monitor and Berk was in his seat, draining a flask into his mouth.

“What’s going on?” Jyra said, gazing at the stars, letting the dazzling scene banish the residual feelings of sleepiness.

“There’s a fleet up ahead,” Berk said. Jyra sat straight up at the news and stared intently into space. The gray hulls of ships and the glow of their engines were impossible to miss.

“They’re so exposed,” Jyra said. “What are they doing?”

“They seem to be heading the same way we’re going,” Berk said. “The catch is there’s only one group I can think of that would flaunt their unity so openly in this system.”

“You think that’s the Nilcyn fleet that attacked Horbson?” Jyra said.

“Positive,” Berk said.

“We can’t know that,” Neeka said.

“No we can’t,” Berk said. “If your radar had been working properly back at the base, we would have detected the arrival of Craig and Jyra’s ship as well as identified the Nilcyn strike force.”

“Not that it would have mattered,” Neeka said heatedly. “I told you already. They’ve changed their com frequency so it wouldn’t have been picked up anyway.”

Berk took another swig from his flask and threw it behind him.

“Cut engines,” he said.

“What?” Jyra said.

“I said cut the engines!” Berk said. “I don’t want to catch up to a whole enemy fleet.”

“We don’t know what they are yet,” Neeka said.

“I don’t see any other fleets around here,” Berk said, standing up so he towered over Neeka. “You can confirm what they are later. For now, I’m ordering to stop engines so we don’t get any closer to them now. We have no projectiles on this ship to defend ourselves.”

Jyra leaned forward to switch off the engine thrusters.

“Cut,” she said.

“And Derek keeps waiting,” Neeka said in an undertone. Berk strode out of the cockpit, his boots thumping on the steel floor.

“How’s progress?” Jyra said.

“Slow going,” Neeka said. “Easier without him chugging whiskey next to me. I’ve got their com frequency isolated, but they’ve got layers of protection on it.”

Neeka stood up and sat in Berk’s vacant seat. She sat back suddenly, staring at the code scrolling across the screen in front of her.

“Funny,” she murmured.

“What’s that?” Jyra said, moving over to stand behind Neeka’s chair.

“I feel like I’ve seen this code before somewhere,” Neeka said. Jyra couldn’t make any sense of the red digits flying from one side of the monitor to the next.

“How do you remember something like that?” she asked.

“I don’t know, part of being a programmer I suppose,” Neeka said. “A couple more years and I’m sure all code will look the same.”

Jyra directed her attention to the fleet, which continued to move away from them. Beyond the gray ships she could see her home world, a tiny sphere floating in space like a speck of dust.

“You all right here?” Jyra said, walking toward the exit. Neeka nodded with a half a glance at Jyra. She bent over the keyboard and began typing. Jyra headed aft and saw Shandra walking toward her, wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms.

“I heard Berk and Macnelia talking,” Shandra said. “Something about a fleet up ahead?”

“Yeah, it’s there,” Jyra said. “Heading away from us, though.”

“Well that’s much less exciting,” Shandra said. Her arms dropped to her sides and Jyra realized she had never seen Shandra in short sleeves. Scars and burns covered the now exposed skin.

“What happened?” Jyra asked, pointing at the damage. Shandra folded her arms automatically and didn’t meet Jyra’s eyes.

“Work injuries,” Shandra said and immediately turned and walked back toward her room.

Jyra stood in the passage, processing Shandra’s behavior. Where had she worked? Her reaction had been so strong that it couldn’t just be shame of the scars.

The visual presence of Nilcyns, coupled with the encounter with Shandra, had erased any desire for Jyra to go to sleep. She descended the ladder into the lower corridor and decided to visit the engine room rather than return to her quarters. It was brighter and much warmer than before, owing to the heat from the engines and additional lights that blazed through the catwalks and overhead machinery.

It only took a couple footsteps over the threshold before the mixed feelings reared in Jyra’s mind. On Tyrorken, her work at the garage had always been a place to leave her worries behind. The opportunity to focus on mechanical tasks promised to clear her mind of anxiety. Sometimes projects were challenging and painful, such as when she cut her hand on the fuel tank, but the solutions were always within her reach. Beneath the garage roof, she had the tools required to rectify all kinds of damage to a variety of vehicles. Jyra found herself wishing that she could pull out the contents of her mind to sort through them on the workbench, tweaking and adjusting the broken pieces one at a time.

Standing in the presence of the engines, Jyra felt some of the clarity that came from the garage work, but only for a moment. Another feeling rose over the peaceful one like a shadow on a wall, shrouding other sensations from existence. As she sensed the feeling, her eyes snapped to the ladder on the far wall. The bright lights made the floor under the bottom rung impossible to ignore; she had wiped away the even layer of dust that settled over the rest of the room from that spot.

Jyra remembered when she and Berk had taken off and the beverage had spilled. She could smell the tangy odor that emanated from the smashed mug. What if that guard had a sister? She lost him just as quickly as Jyra lost Dario. Death for nothing. Jyra felt her feet falling sluggishly as she began backing out of the room. Sparks flashed nearby and Jyra jumped and stumbled into the wall.

Leonick emerged from behind one of the energy cores. He wore a pair of enormous tinted welding goggles that made his already small face appear even more diminutive. The strap of the goggles also pushed most of his hair upward. Jyra wondered if perhaps he had just been electrocuted. He held a small torch in one gloved hand, a pair of pliers in the other, and his mouth formed an earnest smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“You startled me,” Jyra said. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Did I startle you or did the sparks?”

“Both.”

“Excellent because this is startling work,” Leonick said, ducking out of sight. “It means I am doing it right.”

Jyra had never seen him so willing to interact, or indeed, so excited. She came around to where Leonick had opened a panel at the base of the portside energy core. Wires, as thin as the strands of a spider web, glistened like shards of glass in sunlight. Jyra sensed the anticipation kindling in her chest. It was a familiar feeling from her days of working at the garage. The sensation of nervous excitement that crept in, imposing on her lungs, whenever she began taking apart a vehicle, discovering how it all fit together.

Jyra leaned over Leonick’s shoulder to peer into the crisscrossed network of wires, but she couldn’t make any more sense of how the core actually functioned.

She remembered Leonick had mentioned something about corrosion, as he switched off the torch and pulled off the gloves.

“What’s damaged about the cores?” she asked. Leonick swiveled on his heels and spoke, filling Jyra’s nose with the stench of whiskey.

“Most of these wires are corroded,” he said, gesturing at the exposed silver conductors.

“Where’s the corrosion?”

“Right here.” Leonick pushed the goggles onto his forehead and brought one of his smooth fingernails right up to the edge of a wire. Jyra tilted her head and, for an instant, saw a clear buildup clinging to the strand near Leonick’s pinky. She repeated the brief duck of her head and again only saw the corrosion for a moment.

“I can barely see it,” she said.

“I can see it better than you can,” Leonick said. “But it is still difficult. You have to learn how to see it.”

“How do you learn that?” Jyra said.

“I did not learn how. I just know how,” Leonick said. “What you look for is what you see.”

“When did you first see corrosion in energy cores?”

“Twenty-two Jekka years ago,” Leonick said.

“Were you a metalworker?” Jyra said. She knew Jekka was home to most of the metalworkers in the galaxy. Spaceports covered the planet because nearly all ships in the Kaosaam System went there to have their hull plates resealed by metalworkers. Apprentice metalworkers had to go through a rigorous training program, but once certified, they had a plenty of work for the rest of their lives.

“I do not have the hands of a metalworker,” Leonick said, holding them up to the light to advertise their smooth skin. “That job is respected throughout the system, but I chose a more interesting path once I understood myself. When I was younger, I discovered that I intuit machines. I started working as a mechanic, but I did not like it. My mind was always elsewhere and it dawned on me that my comprehension of machines was more advanced.”

Leonick stopped talking abruptly to redirect his attention to the energy core. Jyra watched as his hands—each wielding a miniature toothbrush—darted among the silver wires. The bristles grazed the translucent deposits, rubbing them loose. Leonick’s precise movements reminded Jyra of an old flipbook of a flying spaceship she used to own. Overtime, some pages grew limp, while others remained stiff. When she tried to use it, clusters of pages skipped over her thumb and the spaceship seemed to jump from one side of the book to the other instead of smoothly flying the distance. Leonick’s hands moved like the spaceship. The action seemed sporadic, but it was undoubtedly controlled because each stroke with the brushes scrubbed off more corrosion.

The smell of alcohol rose from Leonick again and Jyra leaned back, the odor breaking her concentration.

“Why do you drink so much?” she said before she could stop herself. Leonick’s hands stopped and he withdrew them from the energy core. He began spinning both brushes with his fingers.

“Do you ever get an idea fixed in your head?” he said. “You try to think about other ideas, but the thought remains, no matter what you do?” Jyra nodded.

“That is how my mind works,” Leonick said. “My brain is inventing. I intuit that which exists and that which is yet to exist. My body cannot match the speed of my mind. If it could, I would know peace. If it could, I would relax.”

“Drinking makes you forget,” Jyra said.

“Alcohol interrupts my brain’s activity, which provides the clarity I need to construct my ideas in the world around me. There are two ways I can put an idea to rest. I drink until I can no longer process it or I build it so the thought can disappear naturally.”

Jyra wondered what it would be like to constantly be bombarded with information she herself kept creating. She didn’t think she could stand the chaos.

“What’s something you know of that doesn’t exist yet?” Jyra said.

“A time machine,” Leonick said. “Of course, time traveling already happens to some degree within the galaxy.”

“You mean when someone travels between two planets?”

“Exactly. A day on one world is not the same length as a day on another. A greater difference can be found between galaxies, such as the one I am from. The time machine I have planned would allow true time travel, such as to one’s childhood, for example. The only way to get there now is by discovering a galaxy parallel to this one in every way, same planets, same people, except it is thirty years behind.”

“You’re from a different galaxy?” Jyra said, partly shocked that she hadn’t considered the existence of other galaxies, despite her interest in space travel. The rest of the shock came from knowing she was talking to someone from another system.

“I am,” Leonick said. “The universe is a big place.”

“How old are you by your galaxy’s time?”

“Eighty-three,” Leonick said, smiling his small smile as Jyra’s eyebrows jerked upward. “Time moves faster back home.”

Jyra certainly had never considered the time differences in the whole universe. Questions from the new information she learned replaced the clarity she felt watching Leonick work on the energy core.

“How old are you in this system?” Jyra said.

“Thirty-seven,” he replied.

“But you were inventing in your home galaxy?”

Leonick nodded.

“What’s your favorite invention?”

“That I have built or that is in my head?”

“That you’ve built,” Jyra said.

Leonick turned toward the energy core and laid a hand on the paneling.

“This,” he said.

Jyra stared at him and Leonick’s cheeks lifted as he gave a wide smile.

“You invented energy cores?” Jyra said.

“I did,” Leonick said. “Much of the time I spent on Jekka involved manufacturing them, but they are harder to market than you think.”

“But, they’re an ingenious power source,” Jyra said.

“You flatter me,” Leonick said. “The fact remains, as you can see, they are challenging to maintain. I have to use these brushes to clean the conduction wires, otherwise I might bend one out of place. That is all it takes to compromise an energy core. I developed them assuming mechanics that serviced them would do so with my level of patience. I was wrong.”

“You said I could learn to see,” Jyra said. “Couldn’t others learn to maintain energy cores? You can instruct them.”

“Even you should be able to understand my brain is not wired to teach people that depth of understanding,” Leonick said. “As long as simpler forms of energy exist, people will seek the easier approach.”

“But other forms of energy cost more on the front end,” Jyra said. “Mining and refining. I grew up around that. Now we’re on our way to drop a bomb to end those activities that threaten the survival of my home planet.”

“I should say people will seek what they see as the easier approach,” Leonick said with a heavy sigh. “I speak not just of seeing, but also of the depth of seeing. You have experienced challenging truths that most people know of only in their fears. Your depth of sight is greater for it. Would you like to scrub the wires?”

Leonick lifted one of the brushes he twirled toward Jyra. She took it while processing what she had just heard. Jyra sank to her knees next to Leonick, ignoring his smell as she moved toward the open panel.

“Focus on the brush,” Leonick said, his voice dropping to a growling whisper. “Let it guide you.”

Jyra extended her arm to direct the brush through the open hatch at the base of the core. Sweat ran off her fingers onto the thin handle. She stared at the wires, trying to see the corrosion. The head of the brush rotated as she spun the handle between her thumb and forefinger.

“You found some,” Leonick said. The bristles scraped on a wire, wiping a deposit free. Jyra didn’t remember seeing it before she started spinning the handle, but the falling remnants beneath the wire proved she succeeded.

“I still can’t really see the corrosion,” Jyra said.

“You need more practice,” Leonick said. “But first, you need more sleep.”

He stood up and pulled a flask from his overshirt pocket. Jyra continued staring into the energy core, listening to the gurgling noise as the liquor rushed into Leonick’s mouth.

She remembered watching Leonick working on the explosive in Macnelia’s room.

“Did you envision the bomb in your mind?” Jyra said. Leonick lowered the flask and wiped his dirty sleeve across his mouth.

“Macnelia had it mostly figured out. I assisted with the detail work,” Leonick said.

“Do you feel—” Jyra paused to search for the right word “—responsible, at all, for what we’re about to do?”

“I have a difficult time feeling emotional extremes,” Leonick said. “Too much going on already.” He pointed to his head and rolled his eyes. “She asked me to help and I helped. I feel justified destroying part of a fuel industry that lobbied against energy cores.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra said.

“On Jekka, the liquid fuel companies fought the energy core project. They did all they could to block my funding proposals. I do not hold any anger toward them, but it is something I considered while building the bomb,” Leonick said.

Leonick knelt down to refit the panel cover on the energy core. He and Jyra rose together and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you for finding a core-powered ship,” he said. Leonick dropped his arm, set the goggles with the other tools, and walked out of the engine room. Jyra followed him into the corridor and told him to sleep well as he entered his quarters. She headed for her own room, but saw Neeka coming toward her.

“What’s going on?” Jyra asked.

“I decoded the signal,” Neeka said. “It’s a Nilcyn fleet.”

“Are they holding their course?” Jyra said. Neeka nodded.

“In fact,” she added, “I think they are heading for Tyrorken as well.”

Part VI: Initiating the strike

The Mastranada launch thrusters blew snow off the ledge outside the resistance cave as the ship touched down. Jyra and Berk made their way to the cargo bay where they discovered the pod had skidded into the door. A rope, one end still lashed around a steel wall stud, lay tangled on the floor.

“Glad I didn’t have to climb back up,” Berk said, nodding at his wound. He untied the rope, coiled it properly, and threw it into a battered supply crate that was bolted in place. Jyra headed for the cargo door controls.

“Wait, we need to move the pod,” Berk said. “It might knock the door off its track if we try to open it now.”

“This one slides?” Jyra said, impressed again by their luck of finding such a well-equipped transport.

“Like a puck,” Berk said. “Give me a hand.”

They both leaned against the pod and it moved easily away from the door.

“If I had more time, I’d have tied it down,” Berk said. “Go ahead.” He nodded at the controls.

Jyra flipped the dusty hatch cover open and pressed the button. The motors behind the wall whined and the door shuddered as it slid back on squeaking bearings.

Berk stood in the doorway and gestured for Jyra to come to his side. The ledge appeared before them as the door glided out of sight. The cliffs of the mountain jutted toward the clear sky of early morning. Jyra stared at the icy granite and noticed Macnelia and Craig, clad in fur coats, walking down to greet them. She remembered picking her face out of the snow when she arrived on Drometica to see the cave for the first time. Jyra jumped onto the ledge, remembering she had only been on the planet for two nights; it seemed much longer than that.

Craig gave her hug and she felt the sweat on his cheek.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” Jyra said.

“Packing,” Craig said, stepping aside and pushing his hair off his forehead.

“Welcome back,” Macnelia said. “Excellent find.” She gazed at the ship before Berk approached and threw an arm around Macnelia, almost knocking her over.

“Berk’s wounded,” Jyra said.

“Makes two of us,” Macnelia said, prying away from Berk and rubbing her ribs. “Doesn’t seem too bad,” she added, looking at Berk’s bloody sleeve.

“Nick from a bullet,” Berk said, while he pulled out his flask. As he sipped the contents, Jyra saw his eyes flick back at the ship as though something had just occurred to him. “I’ll get a bandage on it. Got a quick bit of business to attend to.” He climbed back into the ship.

The others headed toward the cave. Though the breeze was gentle, it pushed Jyra’s cold trousers against her skin and she led the group into the mountain.

The fire pit was empty except for cold ash and a few charred logs. The surrounding cavern was no longer vacant. Boxes and crates took up most of the floor and some stacks of supplies stretched to the ceiling.

“We’re still working in the main cavern,” Craig told Jyra, laying his fur coat across a crate. “Taking the consoles apart is slow work.”

“Took a while to install, too,” Macnelia said.

“Where’d they come from?” Jyra asked.

“The ship Derek brought here,” Macnelia said. “Wasn’t much left after it landed, but we were able to use quite a lot of it. Let’s stack some of these crates to make a better path between the exit and the passage.”

 By the time, they widened the path through the cavern, Berk came in, blowing on his hands and wiping them on his jacket. They all started down the passage to the main cavern. Macnelia tapped one of the buttresses as she passed it.

“Berk made these from the ship’s frame,” she said.

Jyra looked over her shoulder at Berk who lumbered behind the group, his heavy coat and wild hair brushing the sides of the passage.

“You two should go have some breakfast and then lend a hand,” Macnelia said.

“Another ship fell out of the sky,” Jyra said. “The remains had a jagged ‘N’ on the side. We flew over it.”

Macnelia remained silent until they reached the main cavern.

“We’ll be out of the Nilcyn’s reach soon I expect,” she said. “It’s unlikely they know we’re here anyway. Thanks for the report.” Macnelia picked up a wrench and set to work dismantling the remainder of the central console. Neeka, Shandra, and Leonick were untwisting cables that led to the radar controls.

Craig followed Jyra and Berk to the kitchen area.

“Didn’t you eat yet?” Jyra said. Craig shook his head.

“I’ve been loading cables into crates and carefully unhooking the generator. We’re running on a couple battery banks that we’ll blow up once we leave.”

“This whole place is getting destroyed?” Jyra said. Berk, who was already cracking eggs into the skillet at the stove, nodded.

“Cover our tracks,” he said, tossing the shells aside and tearing a package of sausages open with his teeth.

“You were gone a long time,” Craig said. “How’d Berk get shot?”

“With a gun,” Berk said.

“Will you clean and bandage your arm?” Jyra said. Berk shrugged his jacket off and pulled his overshirt over his head and set it on his jacket. Blood surrounded the bullet tear in the sleeve. Even though he wore his undershirt, Jyra couldn’t help but gape at the definition of his muscles. They were so developed, it didn’t seem the undershirt could possibly contain them.

Berk opened a cabinet and pulled out a sanitizing pad and a bandage. Jyra got up to help and saw the bare wound on his arm for the first time. She stared as Berk dragged the sanitizer wipe across it.

“Something the matter?” he asked.

“No,” Jyra said slowly. “Did that guard shoot you with a BB?”

“What?”

“That’s a small wound even for a graze isn’t it?” Jyra said. She grabbed the overshirt off the back of the chair and looked at the tear in the fabric. “I mean, the cut in the sleeve is twice the size of the one on your skin.”

Berk put the bandage in place and took his overshirt out of Jyra’s hands and pulled it over his head. He swung his coat back on and continued making breakfast.

The explanation came to Jyra and she saw her fleeting curiosity reflected in Craig’s expression. I’ll tell you later, she mouthed.

“So a guard shot you,” Craig said, continuing his inquiry.

“Just as we were leaving,” Berk said over the noise of the skillet.

Jyra told Craig about the further destruction she witnessed in the city and the long search in the shipyard for a decent transport. Craig smiled when Jyra got to the part about scaling the supply ship to get a better look and how that led to the discovery of Mastranada. She explained to the point when she and Berk were about to enter the engine room before she remembered the guard. The body must still be in the engine room, dead at the bottom of the ladder. She paused.

“Breakfast’s ready,” Berk announced. He sat down with a full plate and began shoveling eggs into his mouth with a fork.

Jyra ate as fast as she could and started toward Macnelia as soon as she stood up. Berk followed for a few paces, called her back, and spoke so Craig couldn’t hear.

“I’ve already taken care of the body, it’s what I went back in for.”

“Where did you put it?” Jyra whispered.

“Over the cliff.” He ignored Jyra’s revolted expression. “I’ll tell Macnelia and the others about it. Go ahead and get to work. Shall I tell him the rest of the story?”

Jyra nodded, partly relieved she didn’t need to describe her role in killing the guard, but thinking about the incident made her sick, especially right after breakfast.

She wondered why killing the old man in the market didn’t bother her as much. He’d had Craig at gunpoint, but the guard had been shooting at her. Perhaps it was because the old man was already injured and appeared to be dying anyway. He made a choice to threaten Craig. Maybe the guard fired automatically to scare off intruders. He was only doing his job. The last thought stuck. Jyra felt her shoulders fall under the weight of the guilt. The old man didn’t need to harass them and pull out a gun. The guard didn’t have to die.

“Can you give me a hand?” Jyra had to open her eyes, unaware they were closed, and saw Macnelia watching her from the central console.

“Sure,” she said, glad for the distraction.

                        *

Hours passed before the consoles were completely broken down. They began loading empty crates Berk brought up from the lower passage. After a quick lunch, Jyra prepared to head out to assist with a more thorough internal inspection of Mastranada, but Macnelia called her back.

“I’m sorry about the tea and that I haven’t been as direct with you about this operation,” Macnelia said, motioning for Jyra to follow her out of the cavern. “Old habit I can’t quite get rid of.”

Jyra nodded to show she understood. In fact, she already assumed odd habits were at the root of Macnelia’s mysterious behavior. They stopped in the passage and entered another room that turned out to be Macnelia’s. The most obvious feature in the room occupied the middle of the floor. It was shaped like a diamond that had been stretched—two longer sides finished in a point that faced the door. The two shorter sides also came to a point, giving the device a kite shape. It wasn’t flat; it had another kite shape, with equal dimensions, but turned ninety degrees to the horizontal plane of the first kite. If a laser cut through the widest part of device, the cross-section would be a perfect square. It looked to Jyra like an enormous model of an ancient arrowhead.

“Something you’ve been working on in your spare time?” Jyra said, feeling the black metal plating.

“I’ve been doing everything else in my spare time,” Macnelia said. “I’ve been building this bomb for about four months with some help from Leonick. I scavenged parts from the old ship and stole everything else from Horbson. It should destroy the main TF complex.”

“It’s not armed is it?”

Macnelia pointed to a pair of half spheres made of the same metal near the wide part of the bomb.

“I need to slide those open and pull two pins from each one to arm it,” Macnelia said. She went to her cluttered desk and held up what Jyra quickly identified as the bomb detonator. The function of the large red button on it was self-explanatory.

“Will it fit out the door?” Jyra said, stepping back to compare the width of the bomb and the doorframe.

“It should,” Macnelia said, returning the detonator to the desk as she took a seat on her bed. “Showing you this is one reason I brought you to my room, but I also want to tell you what I know about the resistance and how I came to be here.”

She extended a hand to indicate the empty chair at the desk. Jyra crossed to it and sat down.

“Neeka and I joined TF together a few years ago. Things weren’t going well on Jiranthem and we were both desperate to find work so we were easily talked into the TF job. Derek was working in the career department at the time and he was there with the hiring team. He and Neeka started talking about open jobs, but their conversation didn’t stop there. They were together by the end of the three-day visit. Needless to say, we were both hired as programmers and taken to Tyrorken.

“It took only a few weeks after we arrived to discover TF wasn’t what it seemed. Upper management officials isolated themselves from the rest of the company. Communication had been cut off and the absence of facts led to rumors. Derek did his best to not draw attention to himself. He figured it was best to stay with TF to operate from the inside. His diligence paid off and he was promoted to lead scouting missions to find fuel deposits on other planets.

“A few weeks passed after his promotion when Neeka and I learned the entire career office had been dissolved. TF had deprived Tyrorken’s people economic opportunity to the point that most had to come and beg for a job at TF.”

“How did you find out the career program was gone?” Jyra said.

“Neeka and I engaged in some light hacking,” Macnelia said, entwining her thin fingers. “We regularly monitored the department database, just in case management set up new ones that might provide clues about what they were up to. One day, the career department was missing from the list and we knew. Neeka told me most of Derek’s concerns. He didn’t see as many familiar faces. Even as a scouting leader, there were soon entire parts of TF headquarters he wasn’t permitted to enter. The crackdown got worse. Derek thought of quitting when he was told he needed to manage a miner team in addition to scouting. When he showed up the first day for that, he saw people that had worked above him on his team.

“Again, Derek’s keen management to his behavior fooled the higher-ups. Many other employees had been fired or demoted all around him and he knew it, but he hadn’t said anything. Neeka and I didn’t find out much by hacking the TF system. Soon we were both moved to work on the rig platforms. It was there I met your brother.”

“You met him?” Jyra said and felt her stomach clench with surprise.

“About two years ago,” Macnelia said. “We trained together and he asked if I wanted to get a drink at the end of our first shift. We’ve been together since then.”

“That’s why he came home so late that first day,” Jyra said. The feelings came and went inside so quickly she couldn’t focus on them. It hurt that Dario never mentioned Macnelia and even though she was his sister, Jyra felt threatened by the love he shared with someone else. At the same time, she was happy Dario had found Macnelia.

“We spent as much time together as possible, but TF duties interfered,” Macnelia said. She had been talking in soft voice that sounded almost indifferent, but Jyra caught the sudden bitter tone. “Another mission to Drometica had been ordered and Derek, Neeka, Dario, and I were supposed to go. Derek knew of some promising deposits and the rest of us were some of the best rig workers TF had. Dario mentioned something about his parents wanting to keep him at home and, sure enough, he was taken off the mission.

“We worked in these mountains for a few months,” Macnelia said. “We weren’t alone, of course, and so we didn’t talk about resistance efforts much in case other workers heard. In fact, Derek was summoned back to the planet so often, I began to doubt his loyalty. Maybe something about the Drometica mine work fiddled with our minds because working here seemed to attack the relationships we’d built. To trust was to risk it all. Eventually, that’s what I had to do.

“Derek found this place and rigged up some explosives at the TF worksite. After faking my death and Neeka’s, he brought us here. Of course, he had to go back to Tyrorken, report the accident, and return with supplies and other workers. Not only that, he was able to tell Dario what was going on, namely that I wasn’t dead and that we’d started a resistance to overthrow TF.”

“Dario never told me a word,” Jyra said.

“That was part of the deal,” Macnelia said. “Even though Derek and Neeka were together and we all knew each other, it took a long time to build mutual trust. Once I heard Dario knew of the resistance, I stayed awake most nights, worrying he might tell.”

“You didn’t really know him, then,” Jyra said, stiffening in the chair.

“People disappeared for far more trivial reasons than for planning to destroy TF,” Macnelia said. “I loved Dario and my base instincts always won over the anxiety and worry my mind made up. Once I learned to control the hypothetical, I became more dynamic and I started seeking out others to swell our ranks. Neeka and I spent some time in Horbson. We met Berk and Leonick in a bar if you can imagine that.”

“I can.”

“Neeka and I were a few drinks in and the guys sat down at our table,” Macnelia continued. “I told them we couldn’t talk to them because we had nothing but secrets to tell. Berk thought that was fine and went ahead and told us his story, which I gather he’s told you. After hearing that and drinking a little more, Neeka and I realized Berk might be willing to get behind our resistance, be part of something he wished he’d started on his own planet. So we told them what we were up to. An hour later, Neeka was on my lap in the pod as Berk flew us back to here. Then he went back for Leonick.

“We had some equipment here to expand the passages and to keep us warm. Derek periodically brought us supplies and food. Once we had the pod, it was easy for us to get to town and obtain what we needed. TF officials might have suspected Derek of some odd behavior, but he always assuaged them in the end. Then he crashed the ship he flew in from Tyrorken to take the crew and drill equipment home. TF sent another transport and kept Derek confined to Tyrorken after that. He’d been back there a few weeks when he met Craig through Dario. The three of them began planning a strike on TF. Derek suspected TF was monitoring their activities so they didn’t meet often.

“But you know what comes next,” Macnelia said. She made an effort to swallow. “Derek sent me a message about what happened to Dario. I didn’t want to believe it. I wondered if Derek’s com had been hacked and maybe TF knew I was alive. Then, on the same frequency, he told me he was going to deliver a letter to you and tell his team they didn’t have to work that day out of respect for Dario’s memory. I tried to convince him otherwise, but he wouldn’t go back on it. I thought it would be too obvious and he was putting himself and Dario’s family in danger, as well as the lives of his team.”

Macnelia wiped her eyes and directed her gaze to the faded Mourning Mark on Jyra’s forehead.

“It’s a Tyrorken custom,” Jyra said, touching the Mark and checking the smudge on her fingertip. “It’s about the only tradition TF hasn’t sullied.”

“Derek told me about the funeral scam. It’s sick.”

“Did he tell you it was my mom’s idea?” Jyra said. Macnelia inhaled sharply and frowned. “I always thought my family was normal enough,” Jyra said. “I couldn’t complain about my parents that much and Dario…I mean he was the brother any sister could hope for. Part of me still can’t believe I’m here. I never thought I’d walk out on my parents, let alone run away from my planet.”

“I didn’t think of myself as an extreme person either,” Macnelia said. “I never thought I’d become someone I’d hear about on the news. But I believe in stopping TF before its murders go global.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra said.

“You lived there, you should know,” Macnelia said, shaking her head. “TF has turned Tyrorken into a wasteland. The heat and pollution are going to overwhelm the planet. I don’t care how advanced the air processors are; they still need to take in some oxygen to function. If we don’t act soon, TF is going to destroy Tyrorken and everyone on it. Why do you think they’re scouting for deposits on other planets?”

“Destroy it?” Jyra repeated and raised her eyebrows.

“Near enough. You won’t be able to set foot on it without a climate suit. Derek heard a rumor that some TF managers already have survival gear stockpiled in case things go wrong before they can escape. Are they going to provide everyone on the planet with a suit or let the air kill half the people first?”

“Those people are their workers!” Jyra said, appalled at the idea of TF allowing the air quality to degrade further. She thought of her parents.

“Not for much longer,” Macnelia said, placing a hand on the detonator. “There won’t be any place to work soon.”

Jyra imagined the bomb plunging into the TF complex, shattering the glass domes and tearing through floors into the heart of the building. She saw people scrambling for the exits before the harsh white light of the explosion erased the vision. Jyra watched Macnelia handling the detonator, rotating it between her hands. Jyra realized those hands had worked along with Dario’s on the oil platforms. Why hadn’t he ever mentioned Macnelia? It didn’t seem appropriate to ask Macnelia such a question, but Jyra remembered another.

 “Was Derek trying to recruit others besides Craig and me?”

“What’s that?” Macnelia said, tearing her eyes from the detonator.

“This mission that got Craig and me here,” Jyra said. “Were others supposed to come too?”

“Derek wanted to see if anyone on his rig team wanted to join,” Macnelia said. “That’s all I know, though. Obviously, it didn’t work out or he was captured before he could carry out those plans.”

Someone knocked on the door. Macnelia stood up, opened it, and stepped back to let Leonick pass. He smiled at Jyra and knelt next to the bomb.

“How’re you doing?” she asked. Leonick didn’t look at her as he pulled out a screwdriver. He started to remove a plate on the underside of the explosive then paused.

“I don’t know how I’m doing,” he said, slowly. “I know I’m doing. I’m always doing something just like everyone else. Right now, I’m removing one screw of four that secure a cover plate over the guide system relays.”

By the time he finished speaking, the smell of alcohol filled Macnelia’s room and Jyra resisted the urge to bury her nose in her sleeve. Leonick finished with the screws and he set the hatch aside. Despite the smell, Jyra walked toward the door and stood behind him to watch him work.

His hands slid into the compartment. His fingers fluttered over exposed wiring, finding their own way as if Leonick were blind. Jyra glanced at her own hands. Even as an apprentice with Craig at the garage, she had injured herself on the job; a large scar crossed the back of her right hand from when her palm slipped off a wrench and her skin hit a sharp seam on a fuel tank. Despite his obvious mastery and involvement with machining and creating the explosive, Leonick’s hands were unmarked and moved with a grace Jyra didn’t expect. She noticed Macnelia watching her.

“Aces,” Leonick said. “The bomb can be directed within five feet of its target.”

“Thank you,” Macnelia said. She came to Jyra’s side.

They both watched Leonick replace the cover plate and spin the screws back in place.

“What project are you working on next?” Macnelia asked.

“Packing the things in my room that I’m taking with me,” Leonick said. He gave a small smile and walked back into the hallway, twirling the screwdriver between his fingers.

“Berk says he knows how to work on energy cores,” Jyra said.

“I believe it,” Macnelia said. “I wouldn’t call Leonick normal, but he certainly has a way with, well, just about anything he puts his mind to.”

“Is he an alcoholic?”

“Probably. He claims whiskey clears the chatter in his brain and makes it easier to focus. I suspect it’s why he and Berk became friends in the first place. Alcohol brings some sort of order to their worlds.”

“What are we working on next?” Jyra said.

“If the new ship’s passed the test, I think we’ll begin loading it.”

                        *

 Jyra walked up the passage with Macnelia, thinking about everything they discussed. Questions appeared in her mind like exploding fireworks, but it was impossible to follow each bursting flare. What had Macnelia and Dario talked about besides the resistance? Where had Leonick come from and why was he so capable? How had Derek managed to keep such a low profile at TF? What would happen to all the TF employees once Jyra helped destroy where they worked?

As they entered the cavern full of supplies waiting to be loaded, Jyra noticed an open crate full of rags. She grabbed a couple along with some aerosol cleaner. Macnelia, who was pulling two of the heavy coats off a stack of boxes, narrowed her eyes at Jyra.

“The ship’s pretty dusty inside,” Jyra said, accepting one of the coats.

They shuffled out of the passage and discovered the sky was no longer clear; gray clouds had collected above the mountains and snowflakes tumbled around them. Jyra followed Macnelia to the ship. They discovered Berk and Shandra in the cargo bay wearing identical coats. Jyra wasn’t sure why she expected the ship to be warmer, especially with the large door open to the elements. She couldn’t contain her surprise when she saw the clouds of her breath after climbing aboard.

“It’ll be pretty chilly in here until we fire up the engines and get out of here,” Berk said.

“How’s it look?” Macnelia said, walking in a small circle while taking in the size of the cargo bay.

“It’ll do,” Shandra said. “We’ve only done a quick check, but I saw no obvious deal-breakers.”

“I still think Leonick should check the cores and have Neeka run a full diagnostic of the systems,” Berk said.

“What about the hull?” Macnelia said.

“What about it?” Shandra said. Jyra thought she saw Macnelia’s expression soften toward Shandra before she addressed her next question to Berk. 

“Is it sound?”

“It’s not in the best shape,” Berk said. “But it should hold for our journey.”

“I’d like to do the most thorough visual check possible of the entire hull before we leave,” Macnelia said. “That ruptured hull on the TF wreck he flew here nearly killed him.”

Jyra realized that must have been the ship Derek crashed. She wondered if TF had given him that transport on purpose. How easy it would be to make him disappear by providing compromised equipment that would lead to almost certain death. Even as she thought of that, her hand closed on the aerosol can in her pocket and she moved toward the passage out of the cargo bay.

“Where’re you headed?” Macnelia asked, cutting across Berk who was explaining the challenges of a visual hull inspection.

“Just a quick spot clean,” Jyra said. “Won’t be long.” She departed hastily before Macnelia could call her back. Jyra made her way down the corridor and headed toward the engine room. She pushed the door open and saw the marks of the bullets in the floor plating. The smell of grease filled her nose. The dim glow of the lights overhead filtered through the catwalks above.

Jyra pulled the rag and cleaner from her pocket with a clammy hand. The rag and can still felt cold and, despite the coat, she did, too. The wall-mounted ladder was just ahead. Even from here, Jyra could see the bloodstained floor. She caught herself feeling both repulsed and intrigued by the idea that the red smear before her had pounded in the guard’s ears like it did in Jyra’s.

She shook the can and sprayed the solution over the blood. The fumes burned her nostrils. Jyra dropped the rag to the floor and began wiping, staining the cloth a gritty red. It didn’t take long finish the job. Jyra tried to steady her shaking hands as she straightened and proceeded to leave. Her eyes caught the energy cores. She pushed the can of cleaner into her pocket and approached the cylinders. Except knowing they produced enough power for the entire ship, the energy cores were a complete mystery to Jyra. After seeing what people had to go through to manufacture liquid, oil-based fuel for transports, it seemed odd that energy core technology wasn’t used more often.

Jyra stared into each cylinder again, mesmerized by their unknown qualities. If she could stand his strong whiskey odor, Jyra found herself wanting to work alongside Leonick when he evaluated the energy cores. She turned to leave and faced the plated wall of the engine room. Even from where she stood, Jyra noticed a couple fissures between the plates. Gaps that size on the exterior hull plates could threaten the whole ship. Jyra had seen a few cases of transports she’d worked on with compromised hull plates. If the breaches became too severe, the stress of passing through the atmosphere of a planet could destroy a ship.

Jyra left the engine room and traveled back to the cargo bay, determined not to look at the rag in her hand. The others had left the bay. Jyra jumped onto the gathering pack of snow and walked toward the stern. Mastranada took up almost the entire width of the ledge. She managed to duck around one of the massive engines and when she stood next to the second engine on the other side of the ship, Jyra threw the rag into the air. It fell from the ledge amid the snowflakes and the wind carried it toward the center of the valley.

                        *

“Where’ve you been?” Craig said. He yanked the last of the cables from the generator, which sat in a large alcove of the main cavern.

“Talking with Macnelia and doing a little work on the ship,” Jyra said.

“How’s the ship?” Craig asked.

“Should do well as long as the hull plates are sound.”

“They’d better be.”

Jyra turned to check that the cavern was empty. Neeka had left to look over the computers on the ship.

“Did you know Macnelia and Dario were a couple?” Jyra said. Craig’s hand slipped on the ratchet he was using to unbolt the generator from the wall.

“They were?” he said. “I had no idea.”

“He never mentioned her,” Jyra said.

“You think Macnelia’s lying?” Craig said, twisting the ratchet. Jyra shook her head. She had just talked to Macnelia at length and it made no sense that she would have made anything up.

“It’s hard, I guess,” Jyra said, processing the information slowly. “I can’t help wondering what else Dario knew that he didn’t share with me. Derek met you through Dario, right? Derek was organizing the resistance and neither you nor Dario mentioned anything to me.”

Jyra fixed Craig with a cold stare that he noticed once he turned around.

“What’s the matter?” he said.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the resistance sooner?”

Craig stared at the finger he ran around the edge of the socket for a moment. Jyra took a few steps closer. Craig met her gaze with an apologetic expression.

“Derek wouldn’t allow it. He already suspected TF was watching him,” Craig said. “It was too dangerous.”

“And that’s why Dario didn’t tell me either?” Jyra said, feeling the heat rise in her face.

“He agreed to keep silent,” Craig said. “I’m sorry, but that’s how we had to operate for our safety.”

“I know,” Jyra said. “It’s just somehow Dario isn’t who I thought he was. That’s why I’m upset.”

Craig set the ratchet on top of the generator and faced Jyra. She didn’t want to look at him, so she stared into the alcove.

“Dario was the same person you knew him to be,” Craig said. “Don’t use his involvement in this resistance to tarnish his memory. It’s hard to get off that ship once you’re on it.”

“How do you know?” Jyra said, still avoiding eye contact and biting her lip.

“I know because that old man we met in the stockroom was right,” Craig said. “The tough decisions in my life stay with me. Whatever choices I made, I second-guess them. I tried to talk Dario out of the oil work. For the sake of the resistance, we already had Derek as our inside man. We didn’t need another, but Dario refused to leave. I let him off the hook too easily. I know I could have convinced him otherwise. Now it’s too late.”

Jyra met Craig’s gaze briefly and nodded before turning away. She strode out of the cavern and back to her room. Her duffel remained open on the floor and she could see the book Dario gave her. Jyra sat on the cot and retied her hair, pulling it back harder than intended. She wrapped her arms around her knees and dropped her head onto her wrist. She couldn’t stop thinking about Dario and that he’d kept such significant parts of his life secret.

Someone walked by in the passage and Jyra lifted her head. The Mourning Mark had smudged her wrist. Craig’s warning filled her mind. She wished Dario could have remained perfect in her memory.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jyra told herself through gritted teeth. She closed her eyes, hoping to open them to see the dusty street from the porch where she and Dario had spent their time reading as children.

Jyra leaned forward and lifted “Ships of the Kaosaam System” from her duffel. She looked at Dario’s signature on the title page, remembering how he always dotted the “i” before writing the last letter in his name. She wondered what Craig had said to discourage her brother from working on the platforms. It hadn’t been right to be upset with Craig. He wasn’t the only one who held back information. Jyra noticed the parallel between Derek and Dario. Each had a friend who had tried to interfere with their actions to protect them. Craig had told Dario to abandon the rig work and Macnelia had begged Derek to avoid any rash action after Dario’s death.

As a wave of sadness broke inside her chest, Jyra stood up and tossed the book back into her duffel. She cursed herself for wasting time. The secrets were no more and she was part of the resistance that needed to first rescue Derek and then destroy the evil that had hurt her. Jyra threw her dirty clothes into her duffel, zipped it shut, and hauled it out of the room. She took it up the passage to the supply cavern and saw Shandra working amid the crates.

Jyra realized she hadn’t heard how Shandra came to join the resistance. Except that he’d been with Berk, she didn’t know much of Leonick’s story either. She reminded herself not to ask any more questions unless they were related to departing.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

“Berk went down to the main cavern a moment ago to bring up the generator,” Shandra said. “He just rigged a convenient way to get our supplies to the ship. You can go assist Berk and Craig.”

Jyra had been wondering how they were going to move the multiple crates over the icy rocks and snowdrifts to the cargo bay on Mastranada. In addition to the smaller items, they also had to get the generator and bomb onto the ship. She walked down the passage and found Craig and Berk tipping the generator onto a small dolly.

“We could use a hand pushing,” Berk said.

“That’s why I’m here,” Jyra said.

With the help of a winch, a dolly, and lots of muscle, the three managed to move the generator up the passage. They parked it in the cavern with the crates then reset the winch to pull the bomb up from Macnelia’s room. The explosive was much easier to handle compared to the cumbersome generator. Jyra took greater care while pushing bomb, even though the safety pins were still in place. Once it was stored next to the generator, Berk turned their attention to the piles of boxes.

 “I think everything is ordered based on need,” he said. “The stuff we load in first will be the most inaccessible. Crates closest to the exit right now are supposed to be low priority.”

He seized a large box and walked toward the mouth of the cave. Craig and Jyra picked up a heavy crate together and followed Berk. Once they were outside, they saw what Berk had rigged to simplify the loading process. A thick cable was fixed around an exposed steel wall stud in the cargo bay and the other end was anchored to the mountain right by the cave. A pallet hung from four cables that all attached to a burly pulley, which rolled freely on the line between cliff and ship.

A rope tied to the pulley allowed a controlled descent, so the pallet didn’t slam into the cargo bay wall.

Jyra couldn’t help smiling when she realized how much time and energy the suspended pallet would save.

“It’s fantastic,” Jyra said. “What a relief.”

“Load it up,” Berk said gruffly, but Jyra saw through his whiskers that he was smiling, too.

They did have to take care to balance the loads on the pallet. Shandra, Macnelia, and Leonick worked in the cargo bay, stacking the crates and supplies. The pulley squeaked as it glided down toward the ship and jumped on the jerking cable as Berk pulled the empty pallet back to the cave.

It hadn’t stopped snowing and the drifts were nearly level with the cargo bay floor. The wind increased and the pallet swung so much, one load overbalanced and the crates toppled free. They plunged into the swath of white below and new snowflakes began covering them. The workers in the cargo bay, all clad in heavy coats, jumped outside to retrieve the supplies. By the time they rescued everything from the tipped pallet, the snow was spilling into the cargo bay and sheets of it that gathered on the hull were sliding off and piling up around the ship.

Craig, Jyra, and Berk were all sweating from the effort of loading, but they only had a few more piles to go. Macnelia shrugged off her coat and gave it to Neeka who appeared in the cargo bay. Macnelia helped unload the next pallet and then rode it back to the cave.

“I’d better go pack,” she said, stepping off the pallet and shivering. Berk tied off the pulley rope and the four of them walked into the storage cavern.

“Nearly there,” Macnelia said, glancing around. “Just a couple more stacks. Neeka’s got the Nilcyn com recognition programmed into Mastranada’s computers so we’re set there.” She disappeared into the passage.

Craig, Jyra, and Berk finished with the crates and now faced the two largest items. Berk picked up another coil of cable and began wrapping it around the generator as though tying a ribbon around a gift.

“Won’t fit on the pallet, but we can clip this onto the pulley,” he said. “I’ll need you two helping me with the rope for this one.”

Pushing it to the mouth of the cave was quite simple. Once they had it out on the mountainside, Berk unclipped the pallet and let it freely crash upon the rocks. He pulled the loose cable around the generator and tried to attach it to the pulley, but the hook was too far away.

Craig and Jyra pushed against the load and the dolly slid out onto a treacherous patch of ice.

“A little more!” Berk said. They pushed one last time and one of the casters skidded off a rock and whole dolly high-centered in place.

Berk yanked on the pulley and stretched the generator cable toward it. Jyra watched as he grunted with the effort and the generator began to tip. It was falling toward the toward the pallet.

“Grab the rope!” Berk shouted.

It had happened so fast, Jyra didn’t even see that he had succeeded. Now the generator swung on the pulley, which was picking up speed as it headed for the ship. They all grabbed the rope to arrest the generator, which gathered speed as it glided on the pulley cable. The weight of the load pulled Craig right off the cliff. He let go of the rope and landed, face first, on the snow-covered ledge.

Jyra and Berk tugged as hard they could and managed to slow the generator so the others could control it and unclip it from the pulley.

“Send the cable back!” Berk said over the wind, as Jyra climbed down to help Craig back up.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that thing was heavy,” Craig said, shivering as they scrambled past the fallen pallet.

They used the same cable to secure the bomb to the pulley. It was much easier to transfer to the ship.

“Someone’s got a chilly job ahead of them,” Berk said. “They need to get under the ship and get that bomb in one of the mounts.”

“Now?” Jyra said. “Why?”

“It’s better to put a bomb where it belongs the first time,” Berk said. “We’ve still got to inspect the hull, too.”

Jyra wasn’t smiling anymore. The largest obstacle to their departure seemed to be the packing and loading, which they had finished. Now, they had to dig out the snow underneath the ship and brush all the snow off the hull to make sure it was sound.

“Wait,” Jyra said. “Why waste time digging and sweeping when we can just take the ship up and do a quick circle? During landing, the launch thrusters will blow most of the snow on the ledge out of the way.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Berk said. “We’ll still have to do an inspection of the hull once it’s clean, but overall it’s still a faster plan.”

Within half an hour, everyone aboard had strapped the crates and boxes in place in the cargo bay. Once Berk unhooked the pulley cable from the wall stud, he and Jyra headed to the cockpit. The cargo door closed and Mastranada awoke. The cores were heating and on standby to fire the engines.

As Shandra left the cargo bay, she felt the launch thrusters spinning beneath her and heard the sound of loose ice and rock striking the belly of the ship. Mastranada lifted and dived into the valley, leaving a trail of ice and snow in its wake.

“She flies fine with the load,” Jyra said, checking the cargo weight report on her monitor.

Berk pulled up and made a wide circle around a nearby peak before coming back toward the ledge.

“Bring us in at thirty-five degrees to the cliff,” Berk said. Mastranada rotated so her belly aimed at the snowdrifts in the landing area. Berk increased the power flow to the launch thrusters and Jyra held the ship’s position for a few moments.

“That should do the trick,” she said.

The two pilots leveled the transport and lowered it onto the ledge.

“Extending the landing pads,” Jyra said. “It’ll make it easier to get the bomb into the mount.”

Berk nodded as the noise of the engines and launch thrusters faded. They made their way back to the cargo bay. Shandra had already opened the door. Everyone pulled on coats and jumped onto the ledge. The snow had been cleared down to the rock. Most of it had been blown against the mountain.

“Get the bomb out of its straps and let’s get it under here,” Berk said. He, Jyra, Craig, and Shandra all lifted the explosive out of the cargo bay. They crept under the ship, muscled the bomb over to the forward incendiary mount, and placed it beneath the three steel arms. Berk opened them to the proper dimensions. While the rest held the bomb in place, he tightened the mount and the bomb hung in its cradle.

“Hull inspection,” Berk said once they crawled out from under the ship. Leonick and Neeka had unhooked the other end of the pulley cable from the mountain and wound it up. Berk lifted the coil and pulley easily into the cargo bay and he clapped Leonick on the shoulder.

“How do the cores look during operation?” Berk asked.

“They look as they always do,” Leonick said. “As for their operation while the ship is running, they could use maintenance. Corrosion in the lower sectors reduces overall output.”

“Can you do that work while we’re flying?” Berk said.

Leonick nodded and took a swig of whiskey. Craig lowered a stepladder out of the cargo bay and Berk grabbed it.

“Great,” Berk said. “Craig and I will take the roof while the rest of you start checking the sides.”

“I’m going to find Macnelia,” Jyra said, realizing she must still be packing.

Jyra clambered up the slippery snow bank and crept into the cave. The benches were still clustered around the fire pit. Jyra walked down the passage. Macnelia’s door was open, but she wasn’t in the room. The bed had been stripped and the desk cleared. Two large bags sat on the floor. Jyra heard a clicking sound coming from the main cavern.

When she reached it, she saw the source of the noise. Macnelia had a camera pressed to her eye as she took photos of the main cavern. Jyra emerged from the passage and made an effort to increase the sound of her footsteps. Macnelia looked over her shoulder and smiled.

“Memories,” she said, tilting the camera in her hand.

“The cavern looks bigger without all the machines,” Jyra said.

“It’ll look a lot different once the bomb on the battery bank goes off,” Macnelia said.

“Is it ticking?”

“Eight hours,” Macnelia said.

“The hull inspection’s happening now,” Jyra said.

“Then we’ll get the bomb mounted,” Macnelia said.

“That’s already done.”

“You all worked fast.”

Jyra explained how they had cleared the snow from both the ship and the ledge.

“I was down at the batteries,” Macnelia said. “That’s why I couldn’t hear the engines. I’m glad you didn’t leave me here.”

Jyra laughed but saw a glint of seriousness in Macnelia’s eyes.

“What? We wouldn’t desert you here. You’re the master planner of this whole strike,” Jyra said.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Macnelia said.

Even during their discussion about Dario’s death, Jyra hadn’t heard Macnelia sound so despondent.

“What’s the matter?” Jyra asked. “We’re ready to launch our attack. Your bomb is waiting. Let’s go.” She started walking toward the passage and Macnelia followed a few paces behind.

“It’s a funny feeling,” Macnelia said, letting her camera hang on the strap around her neck. “I’ve been planning this for so long. I sought vengeance against TF for those who couldn’t seek it themselves. Then I heard about Dario and now my personal stake in this—”

She trailed off as they walked into her room. Each woman grabbed one of the bags and proceeded up the passage.

They stepped out into the snowstorm. Jyra could see the snowflakes already reclaiming the blast zone from the launch thrusters. Both Craig and Berk were on top of the ship checking the hull. Shandra stood on the ladder near the stern, running her fingers over the cold seams that fastened the plates together.

“Berk’s loading system saved a lot time,” Jyra said, hauling Macnelia’s luggage down the snow bank.

“Ship’s good so far!” Berk called out.

“Keep looking!” Macnelia replied. She and Jyra heaved the bags up into the cargo bay.

“Can the pod get out of there easily?” Berk said. Jyra checked and saw only a few crates blocking it.

“Yeah,” she said. “Why?”

“The other side of the ship hangs over the cliff. If someone sits on the supply rack, they can check the hull over there.”

“Let’s do it,” Macnelia said.

After pushing the crates aside, Macnelia donned a coat and clung to the rack while Jyra piloted the pod around to the starboard side of the ship. She brought it in as close to the hull as she dared. The wind made it hard to hold the pod steady. When she was ready to move ahead, Macnelia knocked her fist on the cockpit dome. By the time the pod returned to its home behind the crates, the others had finished their inspections.

“Clear?” Macnelia said, once everyone had gathered in the cargo bay and they all nodded.

“Neeka, any Nilcyns around?” Macnelia said. Neeka shook her head.

“Derek’s waiting,” she said.

“We’ve all been waiting for Derek,” Macnelia said. “Let’s go get him and complete our mission. I made these a few months ago after getting the design set for the bomb.”

She pulled squares of fabric from inside her coat and handed them out. Jyra looked at hers and realized it was a badge. The shape of the bomb, complete with the safety chambers, had been embroidered in green onto a black background.

“Why green?” Berk said, holding his badge up to his chest.

“I figured it’s the bomb that’s making life possible again on Tyrorken,” Macnelia said. “Which reminds me, I don’t suppose anyone pulled the pins yet.”

She didn’t wait for an answer before she jumped out of the cargo bay and crawled under the ship. Berk and Shandra helped lift her back in and Macnelia held up the pins.

“Ready to go,” Macnelia said. “Berk and Jyra, are you our pilots?”

They both nodded.

“Take us to the enemy,” Macnelia said. “Everyone prepare for takeoff.”

Moments later, Jyra and Berk took their seats in the cockpit.

“Was Macnelia ever in a military?” Jyra said. Berk shrugged.

“She told me she took a public speaking class in school,” he said.

“How did that come up?”

“The night Leonick and I met Neeka and Macnelia at a bar in Horbson,” Berk said. “She spoke with an eloquence that completely disguised her inebriation and I asked her why she was so good with words.”

“If she was so eloquent, how could you tell she was drunk?” Jyra said.

“Tripping on the same table twice while trying to leave gave her away,” Berk said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask, which was empty. He replaced it and drew out another.

“How many of those do you have?” Jyra said, as she threw the switches to prime the energy cores.

“Enough to keep me happy,” Berk said. “Let’s get out of here.”

As Mastranada lifted from the ledge for the final time, Jyra heard and felt the low frequency drone of a powerful explosion.

“Gun the engines now!” she shouted. The ship lurched forward and leapt across the valley in seconds. “Turn one-eighty,” Berk said. Mastranada spun around so the pilots could look back through the snowflakes at their old base.

The mountain eroded before their eyes in an avalanche of ice and rock. Entire facades broke loose from the peak as fire and smoke spewed from below the ledge where the ship just launched. Moments later, great slabs of granite from above crashed onto ledge as the upper part of the mountain imploded from the explosion. Neither Jyra nor Berk said a word as the remains of the peak toppled into the valley. The swish of liquid sounded from a flask as Berk took another swig.

“She said it wasn’t going to go off for eight hours,” Jyra said.

“What?”

“Macnelia said she’d set the time on the bomb at eight hours,” Jyra said.

“When did she start it counting?” Berk said. “That bomb nearly killed all of us!”

“She seemed distracted when she mentioned it,” Jyra said. “Maybe she entered the time wrong or started it earlier than she meant to. Although she said she didn’t hear the ship when we flew it around to clear the snow. She was down at the batteries.”

“Where the bomb was,” Berk said. “She must have either set it then or checked on it. We all get distracted sometimes, but that nearly ended everything.”

Shaking his head, he engaged the engines and Jyra steered the ship to face the sky.