Craig is up to
something. He must be telling the others about how I doubted Macnelia. Never
mind that he didn’t take the shot that might have saved her. The man on
Drometica was right about Craig: “You’re
not the type who shoots and moves on. You agonize over the decision.” If he
hadn’t hesitated, Macnelia might still be alive.
Jyra’s stomach contracted, interrupting her stream of thought.
The memory of the guard Berk shot in Mastranada’s
engine room took command of her focus. The guard’s body must be buried under
the shattered mountain, a tumble of broken rock, all that remained of the
resistance base on Drometica.
How many
guards did we kill on Orasten?
But they were attacking. They wanted to kill us. And they did get one of us.
Jyra sat up on her bunk, shaking her head and staring around
her dimly lit room that had become a cell. The door refused to open and no one
came to unlock it. The air vents were too small to accommodate her. She could
do nothing but wait. Her thoughts returned to her home world. Jyra hoped to
save it through her involvement in the resistance, but the heat on Tyrorken was
rising and there was no way to stop it. In a few months, she wouldn’t be able
to survive on its surface.
“How did I end up here?” she said aloud, pushing herself off
her mattress to resume pacing. She pushed her hair out of her face with an
incredulous smile. There was no other way to acknowledge her peculiar circumstances.
She had spent her life on Tyrorken, dreaming of exploring space while working
as an apprentice mechanic. She had never thought of killing anyone, let alone
rationalizing such an action. Yet here she was on an enemy ship the resistance
commandeered (by chance), locked up by a former friend, with no explicit reason
given for her imprisonment.
What do I
do when they let me out? Jyra wondered. No matter the explanation, how can I properly serve some cause when, at
any moment, someone might decide to lock me up? Jyra realized it was
possible others had been sealed in their quarters too. Except Berk. If he ran out of whiskey, he’d smash his way out. He could
probably manage it even if he had plenty to drink to keep him in check.
Jyra knelt on the floor and pressed her fingertips to the cold
metal. She didn’t feel any vibration and supposed the engines were silent. For
now, it seemed the resistance wasn’t rushing back to destroy TF ships. Jyra
returned to her bunk and huddled under her blanket. She stared at the picture
of Dario she had retrieved from Macnelia’s room. The frame had several deep
scratches and some of the paint had chipped away.
Without thinking, Jyra stretched out her hand and picked up the
picture. She turned it around and bent open the backing tabs. She wasn’t sure
what she was expecting, but she certainly didn’t think a piece of paper and
another photo would fall onto her mattress. The back of the photo of Dario was
blank along with the backing. Jyra set the frame aside and picked up the loose
photo. It was the picture Macnelia had taken of Jyra and Craig together in
front of Mastranada before the bomb
run. The smell of her neighborhood burning filled Jyra’s nose through memory. She
half crumpled the photo and threw it aside onto her blanket. Her attitude
toward Craig now couldn’t be more different from the moment Macnelia snapped
the picture. It captured another time, not long past, though it felt as if
years intervened.
Jyra turned her
attention to the piece of paper and turned it over with trembling fingers. Jyra
couldn’t even read for a moment, overwhelmed with the joy of seeing her brother’s
words again.
The feeling didn’t last long as she began reading:
My dear
Macnelia,
I hope
the mountains are treating you well. My parents and I are looking into
employment opportunities for me at TF. It looks like I might be working out on
the rigs. It’s not the safest thing to do, but it will get me into the company.
My sister’s worried enough for both of us, so don’t you get nervous either.
I talked
to Dad about the drilling compounds for the Drometica mission. He’s not sure
why you’re having trouble figuring out what they are. Normally they’re clearly
marked. He told me some of them are likely more aggressive than the usual
solvents, so be careful with them.
They’ve
finally got the supply ship crash site mostly cleaned up. Even so, I went into
town today and there are still lines of people outside the medical clinics.
Stay
safe. Next time you see me, maybe we’ll be coworkers.
All my
love,
Dario
Jyra got to the end of the letter and recognized how much she
marveled at her brother’s handwriting; she had been too distracted to absorb
any of the content. She reread the letter and folded the paper in half,
realizing Macnelia must have contracted her illness during her work for TF on
Drometica. Dario was trying to protect her by identifying the chemicals she had
to use. For some reason, they weren’t labeled.
Until she saw it in the letter, Jyra had completely forgotten
about the TF ship that crashed on Tyrorken, carrying drums of drilling
solvents. Flames burned for days at the crash site, belching smoke the color of
crude oil into the sky. The ship had gone down near a small suburb and within
few weeks, every resident reported to medical clinics. After hearing about
Craig’s parents and living through Macnelia’s death, Jyra was sure she knew
what illness they had caught.
Maybe in the wake of the ship crash and the resulting threat to
public health, TF started removing the labels so workers wouldn’t know if they
were using harmful substances. Jyra rolled over, resting her head on her pillow
and allowing her thoughts carry her to sleep.
She woke up, aware of a fading dream of the black smoke from
the ship crash billowing upward. It mixed with the clouds and spread across the
sky, moving with the wind. Even when a part of TF literally crashed and burned,
it still brought the planet closer to death. Jyra hadn’t been able to accept
the reality that Tyrorken was beyond saving. Even before Berk confirmed it,
Macnelia had told Jyra TF was killing the planet. It seemed farfetched at the
time, but it was happening and Jyra could do nothing to stop it. Until she
could leave her room, she had no way to even know what was going on. She kicked
the blanket off, her dream replaced by questions she couldn’t answer.
*
A muted clicking noise caught Jyra’s attention. She was sorting
through her duffel bag on the floor and turned around, looking for the source
of the sound. The door to her room slid back halfway and Leonick entered
hastily. He immediately slid the door shut and let out a long breath.
“What’s happening?” Jyra asked, keeping her voice low.
“Craig,” Leonick said. “He had you sealed in your quarters. He
has made some serious accusations against you.”
“Do they involve anything about how I thought Macnelia wasn’t
fit to lead the resistance?” Jyra asked.
“Yes,” Leonick said. As usual, his face was impossible to read.
“He also said you accused him to letting one of the ship guards shoot
Macnelia.”
“He’s exaggerating,” Jyra said. “I told him I was worried about
Macnelia. As it turned out, I was right to be worried. Am I the only one locked
up and does he intend to keep me here while we try to wipe out the TF fleet
with one ship?”
“Yes. Craig seems to have assumed the role of leader,” Leonick
said.
“How? Why? I’ve never understood how that role is filled,” Jyra
said, aware that her voice was growing louder. “Did he just claim it? Did
everyone vote to grant him that position?”
“Things are certainly more charged than usual,” Leonick said.
“He is telling people what they want to hear.”
“But you can see through it,” Jyra said. “We both can. There’s
a difference between taking a wise path forward and waging a reckless attack.
You’re opinion matters, too. What does Berk think?”
“I do not know what Berk thinks.”
“But you two are friends,” Jyra said.
“Sometimes,” Leonick said. “We have traveled together awhile,
but Berk is not always himself. I believe he is more vulnerable now and
considering following orders.”
“What are they? What does Craig want to do?”
“He wants to head toward Tyrorken and, depending on the risks,
start firing on TF ships.”
“What about the cameras?” Jyra asked. “You told everyone about
them. Whatever ship you destroy makes you the next target.”
“Craig wants me to build a device that will send out a
frequency that disrupts the cameras.”
“Can you do that?”
Leonick shrugged.
“Until I get something built, we cannot begin the assault,” he
said.
“The attack still seems like a bad idea,” Jyra said, dropping
back onto her bunk. “It’s like you said: agitated minds do not create sound
plans.”
“I think I am underestimating how the loss of Macnelia is
affecting the others,” Leonick said. “It could be the reason Craig and his
plans appeal to them now.”
Jyra took a deep breath before she asked her next question.
“Do you believe what Craig said about me?”
“I do not,” Leonick said. “But I was struck by you comparing
the resistance to the enemy we face. You are the only person aboard this ship
who seems to have recognized the importance of distinguishing us from them. Craig’s
desire to fight is a consequence of a general loss of focus.”
Jyra leaned back against the wall. Although she had been cooped
up in her room, she felt exhausted. She remembered how she felt after hearing
that her home planet was lost. Never had she been so gripped by despair. Even
following the deaths of those closest to her, Jyra had been able to act, to
somehow respond to the atrocities.
“The resistance failed me,” Jyra muttered.
“I understand,” Leonick said. Jyra wasn’t sure what he meant by
that, but rather than find out, she asked a broader question.
“Why are you here?” she said.
Leonick crept back to the door and placed his ear against it
for a moment. Then he walked across the room to stand in front of Jyra. He
stared squarely into her eyes as he spoke.
“I am here to give you choice.”
*
Jyra didn’t know what to say in the wake of Leonick’s
elaboration. One thing was clear: if Craig held his position as the leader,
Jyra couldn’t hope to be involved in the resistance.
“I have no certainty about his long-term plan,” Leonick said. “That
said, I would not be surprised if Craig tries to leave you at the next port,
whenever or wherever that may be.”
Every
time I think about the resistance, I think about its futility and weakness, Jyra
thought. The idea didn’t trigger the usual mental misgivings or
rationalizations. She accepted it and took a deep breath.
“I joined the resistance to bring down TF,” she said. “We
destroyed their main complex, but wiping them out completely will take much
longer unless we recruit more members. I don’t see that happening if we launch
an attack we’re not ready for. The resistance won’t survive if Craig doesn’t
make that a priority.
“I got into the resistance following my brother’s death. During
the mission to rescue Derek, I heard my parents die. Now Macnelia’s dead. I
can’t be surrounded by loss anymore, especially if I’m a subordinate to someone
who wants to lock me in my room.”
“I understand,” Leonick repeated. “And I agree with you. Death
is not easy to cope with, but I hope you find your way to the peace you need.
You have a strong spirit and when TF eventually falls, I expect you will have a
part in its demise.”
“If I had my way, I wouldn’t kill anyone ever again,” Jyra said.
“I can’t imagine passing such misery to others.”
“I do not speak of taking the lives of people,” Leonick said.
“I do not do that myself, but I have no qualms about ending an immoral
organization that is responsible for thousands of deaths.”
“So my choice is to stay here or leave,” Jyra said heavily.
“Are you suggesting I wait for Craig to pitch me out on another planet?”
“I figured you would choose to leave, which means you can
depart whenever you wish.”
“You told me Craig is retrofitting Mastranada with one of the laser cannons,” Jyra said. “I can’t take
that ship.”
“Nor would I advise it,” Leonick said. “No need to make Craig
any angrier with you.”
“Well I don’t want to throw open a door and go for a walk in
space. It’s cold out there and there’s nothing to stand on.”
“I thought a crisis capsule might serve as a better way to exit
the vessel,” Leonick said.
Jyra hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense. She could fit
everything she needed in one and, for the second time in her life, leave
everything she knew behind.
“I don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head. “How come you
aren’t leading the resistance?”
Leonick smiled his small smile.
“I am too smart for that,” he said.
“No seriously,” Jyra said. “Why aren’t you?”
“The position has been filled,” Leonick said, then his smile
disappeared. “More to the point, I am not equipped to be an effective leader of
this resistance. I would have to give orders to take lives. I have only chosen
to kill once. That experience changed me, not for the better, and I do not plan
to ever do anything like it again. Pack your things.”
*
Ten minutes later, they met in the corridor that led to the
crisis capsules. Leonick presented Jyra with a heavy package wrapped in paper.
“Put it in your duffel if you can,” he whispered. “And be
careful where you use it.”
“What is it?” Jyra asked.
“You will find out later,” he said. “We must hurry.”
They moved down the corridor, their ears straining to hear
anything besides two pairs of footsteps. Once they rounded the first corner,
Leonick spoke in the same whisper.
“Do you have any weapons?”
“A dagger.”
“Better than nothing,” Leonick said. “All the guns are secured
now so I could not get one for you. Remember, there is no telling where you
might land. It could be in a city or the wilderness. Take time to get your
bearings.”
He pulled a bottle and small box from inside his coat and
handed them to her as they walked side by side.
“Food and water,” he continued briskly. “If you run out of
water and you are outside civilization, finding fresh water is your top
priority. If there is an ocean nearby, do not drink from it.”
Jyra nodded stiffly. Each step she took toward the capsules
reinforced what she was about to do.
“What planet I’m likely to land on?” she asked.
“Silanpre I think,” Leonick replied. “It happens to be orbiting
about as close as it gets to Tyrorken.”
“Isn’t that where Berk is from?” Jyra asked.
“It is,” Leonick said shortly.
“Does everyone believe what Craig said about me?”
Leonick didn’t answer immediately. At that moment, the crisis
capsules appeared as the rounded the next corner.
“Neeka and Shandra seem to agree with his point of view,” Leonick
said as Jyra set her duffel on the floor. “Derek defended you a few times but
ultimately fell silent. I could not figure out what Berk was thinking. I
suspect he still respects you.”
“I wish I could say good-bye to him,” Jyra said.
Leonick nodded and bowed his head ever so slightly.
“Too risky,” he said. “But I will pass the word along.”
“At least I can tell you good-bye,” Jyra said. “And thank you. We
both know where I’d be if you didn’t come along. Why did you?”
Leonick paused again, but his face betrayed nothing about what
went on behind his eyes.
“I do not know what Craig intended to do with you,” he said.
“Locking you in your room was not a promising start. The way I see it, if
someone is working against TF in any capacity, that grander cause is better
served by keeping such a person out of confinement. Besides that, I think you
are persistent and your ambition is bigger than this resistance. That is why I
gave you a choice.”
“Persistent?” Jyra asked, raising her eyebrows.
“You are still here,” Leonick said. Jyra remembered telling
herself that, but a ship wide broadcast interrupted the memory.
“Jyra, I know you can hear me,” Craig’s voice blared out of the
nearest speaker. “I need to speak with you in the main hangar. Please meet me
there in five minutes.”
“All significant choices have tests,” Leonick said,
uncharacteristically rolling his eyes at the speaker. “But you haven’t lost
focus,” he added as Jyra approached the nearest crisis capsule.
She pulled the access lever. The door dropped down and revealed
the inside of the tiny spacecraft. The interior was painted gray. The small
control console lit up beneath a porthole filled with far away stars. A single
seat complete with a built-in safety harness, sat in the middle of the capsule.
A small storage locker had been framed into the wall next to the door and Jyra
managed to stuff her duffel inside it and secure the latch.
“You can figure out how to control it,” Leonick said. Jyra
wasn’t sure if it was a statement or question.
“I can’t exactly navigate, can I?” Jyra said.
“A couple thrusters can push you left or right to avoid
obstacles during landing. Aside from that, the capsule falls where it falls.”
“Why overcomplicate something like falling?” Jyra said, hoping
the sarcasm would settle her nerves. She placed the food and water on the floor
next to the seat, and noticed the water rippling in the bottle. She stepped
back into the corridor for a final good-bye
“If I land in the ocean, what do I do?” she asked.
“There is a raft in the locker with your duffel,” Leonick said.
“The capsule should come to the surface and remain there for about fifteen
minutes before it sinks so get out as fast as you can.”
Without another word, Leonick opened his arms and pulled Jyra
into a brief hug. She felt his greasy shirt and caught the aroma of stale
whiskey, suddenly struck by how much she was going to miss it.
“Thank you again,” she said. “Good luck with the time machine.”
Leonick only smiled. Jyra turned her back to climb into the
capsule. She cinched the harness around her and took a deep breath. She almost forgot
about the provisions next to her on the floor; she scooped up her water and
food and secured them in a compartment next to the console.
Jyra placed her palm over a yellow button, its blinking light
throwing an amber glow onto the walls, and dropped her hand. The capsule began
to vibrate and Jyra heard the launch drive winding up. The door hissed shut, the
cabin pressurized, and the dynamo roared, spitting the capsule from the ship
and taking Jyra into space with it.
The next installment will be available on the new website located at: kylerbarton.com Come check it out!
