Part XX: Focus

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!

Part XVI: Codes and cannons

Two Tyrorken days went by and Neeka hadn’t made any progress on solving the code. She had taken few naps on Macnelia’s orders, but returned to the bridge immediately upon waking to analyze the cryptic communication on her monitor.

Nearly everyone else aboard was thinking about how they would attack the TF fleet, but nothing could be finalized until Neeka translated the code.

Jyra’s anxiety toward the looming battle had grown so fierce she found herself going to bed earlier each night. Her family returned in her dreams and she didn’t have to think about the resistance or fighting. When she first moved into her room, she put her mother’s locket and Dario’s dagger in the drawer with her clothes. Now she kept them next to her bunk so that they were the last things she saw before she slept and they were there when she woke.

Of course, she couldn’t stay in her quarters all the time. Jyra caught herself feeling envious of Derek because he spent almost every day in bed, but a rush of guilt banished the thought. He’d been wounded helping her escape from Tyrorken in the first place.

As she stepped into the corridor from her room, Jyra felt the pressure build in her chest as she considered heading up to the bridge. Neeka would be there, glued to her monitor and running her fingers through her hair. She would also see Berk, who had taken over another computer. Jyra didn’t know what he was up to, but she presumed, were it possible, he was spending as much time as Neeka on the bridge.

Hoping she could give her anxiety the slip, Jyra abruptly walked the opposite way toward the main hangar. By the time she reached its polished floor, worry threatened to ensnare her again, but she quickly found a distraction.

Craig was standing on the gunner’s platform of one of the laser cannons. Jyra could see him testing levers on the control panel. It occurred to her that although the resistance had been eating meals in the midst of the heavy artillery, she hadn’t ever examined how to operate them. As she approached, Craig looked up and nodded at her. She jogged the rest of the way to the base of the main cannon body and climbed up a set of rungs to access the platform. The entire weapon was about four times Jyra’s height. The barrel, if stood on its end, would be half the height of the cannon.

“How’s it going?” Craig asked when Jyra joined him next to the control panel.

“Fine,” Jyra said, surprised that she felt it was true. The unfamiliar machine before her pushed her anxiety aside.

“I thought it might be a good idea to learn how these things work,” Craig said. “It’s not like we can form a plan yet, but whatever we come up with, I think we’ll need cannon fire at some point.”

“What’s the basic firing sequence?” Jyra asked.

“Set your sight camera monitor,” Craig said, pulling the screen away from the turret on an articulated arm. He tapped a button and the blank monitor lit up, showing Tyrorken, a sandy sphere hanging in front of the twinkling stars of the galaxy. Jyra stepped closer, noticing her home planet in the crosshairs.

“Can the camera zoom at all?”

Craig pressed another button on the side of the monitor and Tyrorken appeared somewhat closer; a few of the ships in its orbit were visible now.

“These levers rotate the turret horizontally, and this one raises and lowers the barrel,” Craig explained. “It’s pretty straightforward.”

“It can’t fire now, right?” Jyra said, grasping the large lever that could only be the trigger.

“No, everything it’s doing now is off of its batteries,” Craig said. “We need to hook it up to the power cables before it can generate a lethal laser. Give it an adjustment,” he added, nodding at the levers for rotation.

Jyra moved one and the turret swung to the left, turning toward its fellow. She tugged the other lever and brought Tyrorken back into the cannon sight. The planet seemed so close. Jyra thought it should be so much easier to come to its defense.

“I liked Berk’s idea,” she said. “We should take Mastranada to see what we’re up against.”

Craig shook his head.

“Not until Neeka gets that code settled,” he said. “Macnelia won’t go for a scouting mission until then.”

“So we’re supposed to keep sitting on our hands?” Jyra said. She paused, expecting her anxiety to silence her or that she might think about the consequences of what she was about to say. A mixture of fear and urgency pushed the words through her lips.

“I don’t think Macnelia should be leading the resistance.”

Craig stared at Jyra. His mouth was half open and his eyes betrayed his alarm.

“I know she hasn’t been quite right recently,” he began, making an effort to keep his voice calm, “but you can’t just claim that.”

“I wasn’t claiming anything,” Jyra said. “I expressed my opinion.”

“A mutinous opinion,” Craig said, lowering his voice as he glanced behind the turret to make sure no one was listening. Jyra was too stunned by his words to reply for a moment.

“I didn’t mean—”she began.

“But you said it,” Craig interrupted.

“Let me finish,” Jyra snapped. “I’m not starting a resistance within the resistance, but I just wondered what you thought about Macnelia as a leader.” In the back of her mind, Jyra remembered Berk had told her not to discuss Macnelia’s odd behavior with anyone else, but she had already blundered into the territory.

“I’m not happy that we’re sitting out here like this either,” he said. “Nor do I think it’s unwise to occasionally challenge those in charge.”

“Are you talking about TF or Macnelia?” Jyra asked, raising her eyebrows.

“This isn’t a time for jokes,” Craig said with uncharacteristic coldness. “That said, attacking someone’s position in a campaign like ours is dangerous.”

“I wasn’t attacking,” Jyra said.

“That’s how it sounded,” Craig said. “You weren’t attacking her personally, but you said she wasn’t fit to lead. You can think whatever you want, but saying certain things out loud can undermine the entire resistance. Everyone on this ship is on the edge as well.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra asked.

“I’m sure you remember the dust storms from when you were growing up,” Craig said.

“No one who’s been through one could ever forget,” Jyra said.

“Tyrorken’s always been a warm planet, but there’s always a breeze,” Craig said. “Except before a dust storm. The air stood still and you’d start sweating immediately. Sometimes, the wind would cease for half an hour or a couple days. But when it returned, it blew the dust skyward. That’s what it’s like right now. We’re sweating and waiting because we’re heading toward something that could get much darker than any dust storm. It’s hard enough to do without causing divisions in the resistance.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that,” Jyra said. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“I do believe you,” Craig said after a moment. “You made me nervous, though. But I suppose it could be worse. You might have said it to someone else. You’d really be in trouble then.”

They climbed down from the gunner’s platform. Jyra’s felt dizzy. She still couldn’t understand Craig’s reaction. She bit her lip, doing her best to mentally review the conversation.

“What’s the matter?” Craig said.

“You scared me,” Jyra said, realizing it as she spoke. “You’re the one who got me into the resistance. You’re the one I’ve been able to come to when I need to get something off my chest.”

“Maybe you should talk to Macnelia about her condition,” Craig suggested. “Just don’t say what you said to me.” Even as he spoke, Jyra remembered Derek had given her the similar advice.

“She’s not too happy with me at the moment. I’ll bring it up to her soon, though,” she said.

“You can still tell me whatever’s on you mind,” Craig added, with an encouraging smile.

Jyra smiled too. “Clearly,” she said, “I can’t.”

                        *

Back in the safety of her room, Jyra took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She kept replaying the conversation with Craig in her mind. His reaction couldn’t have been more serious, but at the same time it seemed so exaggerated. He’d said that everyone was more nervous than usual. Jyra couldn’t argue with that; her anxiety had set her to pacing back and forth in her room. Maybe Craig’s nerves had gotten the better of him. It certainly played a role in how he responded to Jyra’s opinion.

“He’s not like that,” Jyra said aloud.

She paced several more times before remembering she had gone to the main hangar to avoid her room as well as the bridge. Craig had remained in the hangar so Jyra didn’t want to go there. In order to leave her quarters, Jyra decided to ignore her misgivings about visiting the bridge and headed toward the bow.

 She passed Macnelia’s door and hesitated. Part of her wanted to keep walking; she didn’t even have an idea of how to start the conversation. The rest of her wanted to have the discussion so that she might stop worrying about Macnelia. The sooner I talk things over, the less chance I have of telling more people my suspicions, Jyra thought. Then again, if I can’t control myself, maybe Macnelia’s not the one I should be worried about.

Jyra felt guilty that she hadn’t brought her concerns directly to Macnelia in the first place. Her parents had always said to talk to those who upset her.

“You need to connect with the specific person so that you can move forward,” Tadwin explained. “You can chat to however many people you want about the problem, but if you don’t ever talk to the people involved to resolve it, then you’ve got a loose end. The more loose ends you have, the harder it can be to keep yourself together.”

A shout in the distance took Jyra’s attention elsewhere. It came from where she was already headed. She climbed the ladder onto the bridge to find Macnelia and Neeka yelling at each other. Berk crossed in front of Jyra so quickly, he nearly knocked her down the way she had come.

“I almost had it!” Neeka shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Macnelia. “You ruined it!”

“You need your sleep!” Macnelia shot back. “You’re exhausted!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Neeka said. “How am I supposed to get sleep knowing I was that close?”

“Enough!” Berk roared over the two women. “Take a breath and maybe it’ll clear your heads.”

“That’s the last thing I need,” Neeka muttered.

“Just go to bed,” Macnelia said, pushing her hair out of her face.

Jyra moved away from the ladder to allow Neeka a clear exit. Macnelia glanced at Neeka’s computer monitor for a moment before switching it off.

“Do you think she had something?” Berk asked.

“Does it matter?” Macnelia said. “Until she started shouting, she sounded delirious. She’s acting like all she has to do is crack the code. I’ve seen what happens when she puts too much effort into something like this. Once we know this code, we’re going to need everyone ready to fight. Believe me, if Neeka pushes herself too hard on this task, she’ll be no use in combat.”

Macnelia swept away from Berk and descended the ladder, glancing at Jyra with a neutral expression.

“Might not be a bad idea for everyone to take a nap a the moment,” Macnelia said, as she disappeared into the dim passage below.

Jyra looked at Berk as he came striding back toward his computer.

What have you been doing up here, besides keeping the peace?” she asked, following him to his console.

“Checking the climate conditions on Tyrorken,” Berk said, taking a swig from his flask.

“Temperatures are pretty high above the ruins of the complex,” Berk explained, pointing at a weather chart of Tyrorken. “That’s expected. But you have to compare the temperatures to this next map.”

He struck several keys and another chart overlaid the first.

“I’ve been analyzing the cloud cover to see if there’s any chance of it thinning enough to get our radar down to the surface,” Berk said. “The hot air seems to be pushing clouds aside. If it keeps up, we could have a shot at discovering how many ships are down there.”

“That could bypass this whole nightmare,” Jyra said, nodding toward Neeka’s console.

“I think the actual battle might be more of a nightmare,” Berk said, sipping from his flask again.

                        *

Jyra and Berk remained on the bridge, discussing possible approaches to the strike, until they heard someone climbing the ladder. Neeka appeared at the top of the ladder. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair frazzled. She shuffled to her computer without a word and sat down. Within a few moments, her defeated appearance shifted and she sat back, placing her hands behind her head and massaging her knuckles.

“What is it?” Berk called across the bridge.

“More encryption,” Neeka said. “They’ve added another layer.”

“TF is fighting off the Nilcyn’s infiltration?” Jyra said.

“If the Nilcyn’s gained control of the communication, it could be the other way around,” Berk reminded her.

“Wait a moment,” Neeka said, sitting up. “There’s a line. It just says ‘launching.’ And there’s the encrypted version of the message. Perfect.” She sat up straight, almost looking like herself again. Her fingers drummed on the keyboard and she smiled. “I think they’re finally overrunning the encryptor.”

“It’s TF,” Berk said. “I would’ve expected their standards to fall much sooner.”

“Not where their security’s concerned,” Neeka said.

“Especially in that sector,” Berk snorted.

“Why?” Jyra said.

“No one can know for certain because this is the Nilcyns I’m talking about,” Berk said. “But I’ve heard it from enough people on enough planets that the Nilcyns began as the security force for TF.”

“What?” Jyra asked.

“They started traveling with large cargo missions and were able to spread throughout the galaxy that way,” Berk said. “They inspired locals on planets to join them. The way I heard it, they split from TF altogether after they stole a fully loaded cargo ship.”

“Only they still share a communication code,” Jyra said.

“I suppose the process of secession can always be a little more drawn out than people expect,” Berk said.

“This is coming together,” Neeka interrupted.

“You’ve almost got it?” Berk asked.

“Just about,” Neeka said. “My program’s finally got a read on the code. It should crack it soon enough.”

“I—” Jyra started to say she would go get Macnelia, but realized that might not be a good idea. She coughed to give herself a moment to think of something else to say.

“I was wondering how Derek is doing,” she said, rubbing her throat. Berk nudged her with his flask. She declined the offer as Neeka looked her direction.

“Probably for the best,” Berk muttered.

“He seems fine,” Neeka said. “Complains every now and then. He enjoys the news. Or he did.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra asked.

“The signal cut out just before I came back here,” Neeka said.

Jyra exchanged glances with Berk, but his expression showed no reaction to the news.

“Well something’s definitely happening down there,” Jyra said.

“As long as someone’s talking about it, we’ll soon know what it is,” Neeka said, glancing at her monitor.

                        *

Jyra returned to her room, relieved that Neeka’s program would have the code solved within the hour. She sat her bed, turning Dario’s dagger in her hands, wondering what he would do in this situation. He had always liked to be prepared for whatever he had to do on a given day. When they built the tree house together, Dario insisted on gathering everything they would need before starting construction. They would arrange the tools and materials in their small shop and make sure the welder had been lubed and calibrated.

If he were here, Jyra thought, he’d be checking the cannons and preparing them for battle. If the resistance was on the cusp of solving the enemy’s code, it seemed they should power up the weapons. This thought led Jyra back to the main hangar, but Craig wasn’t there. The cargo door on Mastranada was open and Jyra climbed inside.

She instinctively headed for the cockpit. Just before reaching it, Jyra heard voices. She stepped inside and saw Craig and Shandra sitting together, heads bowed, their fingers locked together. They both looked up at the noise of Jyra’s entrance.

She stopped short and held her breath, her purpose for coming momentarily forgotten.

“What’s going on?” Craig asked, letting go of Shandra’s hands and swiveling in his chair.

“It sounds like Neeka’s nearly cracked the code,” Jyra said, wondering if she was imagining the strange buzz behind her words.

“Excellent,” Shandra said. Jyra didn’t recognize her tone either. It was much brighter than Shandra’s usual dull voice.

“I thought it might be about time to hook up the cannon power cables,” Jyra said.

“What did Macnelia say?” Craig said.

For a moment, Jyra wasn’t sure what Craig meant. Did he think she had talked to Macnelia about her condition, or was he asking if Macnelia had ordered to power up the cannons? The confusion only further delayed Jyra recovering herself since entering the cockpit.

“She’s asleep,” Jyra said. “But I think it’s time.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Craig said, with a note of finality.

“Where’s Leonick?” Jyra said, taken aback by how difficult it was to speak. “I should tell him about the code.”

“I think he’s in the engine room,” Shandra said. “On this ship,” she added.

Jyra nodded and departed with a stiff, “thanks,” before heading aft.

She had no intention of finding Leonick. Instead Jyra jumped out of the cargo bay door and waited. She couldn’t go directly to her room because she’d be seen from Mastranada’s cockpit. She had to wait a few minutes so that it might seem plausible she had actually gone to speak with Leonick.

Just when Jyra determined enough time had passed, Neeka’s voice filled the main hangar.

“We’ve got a TF vessel heading right for us. Prepare the cannons.”

Part XV: Risky conviction

Leonick spent the next two days in Mastranda’s engine room, making small adjustments and repairs. Everyone else chose new quarters in Valiant Conductor II. Despite Leonick’s best efforts, there were some things he alone could not improve. Although she would fly true, the water supply tanks on Mastranada were nearly empty. They would likely run dry before they could be refilled.

On Valiant Conductor II, Jyra unpacked her duffel bag in a spacious room located across the hall from Derek and Neeka’s quarters. All of her clothes fit into one dresser drawer out of the five built into the wall. As she laid her final shirt in place, she thought of her dresser in her room on Tyrorken, its contents turned to ash along with the rest of the house. She glanced up at the mirror mounted in front of her.

TF has taken everything from me she thought, tucking her hair behind her ears. But I’m still here.

Even the rare glimpse of satisfaction couldn’t distract Jyra from her surroundings. Her new quarters were more accommodating and comfortable than they had been on Mastranada, but the sterile, angular aesthetics reminded her of the TF complex. She remembered the sound of the rifle shots that killed her parents and she tore her gaze from the mirror.

“This is where I belong,” she told herself firmly. “Vengeance is only made better by destroying the enemy with their own machine.” Not even her own voice could silence the doubts that festered in her head. Attacking TF ships was by no means a surprise; Macnelia had made that a clear objective and the onboard laser cannons were ready to open fire. The idea that the resistance would imminently face enemy ships in battle preoccupied Jyra more and more.

She found memories of her family leading to thoughts of the coming assault on the enemy fleet, which were followed by a slew of worries. Valiant Conductor II disguised the resistance as a TF associate, but it would only last until they attacked the first ship. How well were the TF ships fortified of battle? What had happened to the Nilcyn fleet that attacked TF at the same time the resistance broke into the complex to save Derek?

The Nilcyns were perhaps Jyra’s greatest concern because no one in the resistance seemed to know why they had attacked TF. Did their offensive overlap with the resistance assault simply by coincidence? Neeka had discovered a common code between TF and the Nilcyns, but no one had been able to draw any conclusions from the mysterious connection.

It didn’t help that thinking of the Nilcyns reminded Jyra of the man she and Craig encountered in the stock room back on Drometica. When she asked him what the Nilcyns were, he’d told her they were trouble.

“You’ll want to watch out for the Nilcyns,” he’d said.

Tired of having only her thoughts and memories for company, Jyra left her room and knocked on the door across the hall, self-conscious about disturbing a couple in their own room.

“Come in,” Derek called after a moment. Jyra entered and discovered that Neeka wasn’t there.

Derek was propped against the wall in his bunk staring a screen mounted on a swiveling arm on one of the footboard bedposts. The wounds on his face were finally healing up, but he still looked as gaunt as ever since the rescue. He smiled when he saw Jyra and motioned for her to take a seat on the other bunk, which was still made.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Plenty,” Jyra said. “You look terrible,” she added with a smile, keen to keep the conversation away from her worries.

“At least you’re honest,” he said. He shifted his wounded leg and wiped his brow. “The last thing I need is false hope and empty encouragement.”

“Is something wrong?” Jyra said, trying to keep her voice even.

“Not according to Leonick,” Derek said. “It’s just a matter of time until I heal, but it could take a while. I know everyone’s worried about me and I don’t like it. The worries of others won’t help me get better.”

“I’m certain your leg’s going to recover,” Jyra said. “I don’t want your attitude to suffer, too.”

“Neeka’s helped me stay occupied,” Derek said, nodding toward the screen. “She hacked into a newsfeed from Tyrorken. TF claims the Nilcyns attacked them.”

“If the Nilcyns haven’t been able to disrupt the feed, maybe that means TF defeated them,” Jyra said.

“Neeka’s up the bridge right now, trying to figure out what happened to them,” Derek said.

“That’s a relief,” Jyra said.

“What do you mean?” She couldn’t avoid her thoughts now.

“It’s just strange, isn’t it?” Jyra said. “The Nilcyns attacked TF the same time we did. And there’s that code Neeka found linking the two. It seems like there’s more going on that we know about, but we should know. We’re about to engage in ship-to-ship combat with the TF fleet. What if the remaining Nilcyn ships fight for them? We’re already outnumbered and if we have to face a second fleet as well…”

“As I understand it, we’re going to hit as many TF ships as we can and then run,” Derek said. “A blitz.”

“Macnelia said we were going hunt down every TF ship,” Jyra said.

“I think that was something of an exaggeration on her part,” Derek said gently. “I’m sure it could be done, but it’s far too risky. This resistance has worked by executing campaigns that hit hard and fast. Lingering to wipe out a fleet with two ships, only one of which is armed, isn’t practical.”

Jyra found the question on her tongue again. Leonick didn’t have an answer, but maybe Derek would.

“Has something happened to Macnelia recently?” she asked.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Well, she just seems a little more distracted than usual.” She didn’t want to reveal she’d eavesdropped on Berk and Macnelia so she named another example.

“You heard about when we left Drometica and destroyed the base there?”

“Yes,” Derek nodded. “If the detonation came a couple minutes sooner, that would have ended it all. The TF agents would have killed me by now.”

“She didn’t seem like herself that day either,” Jyra said.

“I see what you mean,” Derek said. “All I can do is guess. She’s under a lot of pressure and she harbors much hate toward TF.”

“Don’t we all?” Jyra said.

“Yes, but we’re not all leading this resistance,” Derek said. “If I were you, I’d ask Macnelia yourself.”

“I’ll need to come up a more specific opening question first,” Jyra said.

“Yes, that wouldn’t hurt,” Derek said. He glanced at the screen.

“Anything new?” Jyra asked.

“Just more footage of what’s left of the complex.” Derek turned the screen with the foot on his uninjured leg so Jyra could see more clearly. It was nearly impossible to tell how enormous the building had once been. The footage had been captured from the air and clouds of smoke occasionally obscured the view.

“Not much left,” Jyra said.

“That’s as it should be,” Derek said.

The footage cut to a wrecked Nilcyn ship on the ground, covered in flames. Through the fire, Jyra could see the insignia on the side. She remembered seeing it for the first time on Drometica.

“Why do they mark their ships?” she said.

“Solidarity,” Derek said. “And for intimidation. Organized fleets like them are taboo in the galaxy. Even so, the insignia bears a certain degree of cowardice.”

“What? Should the “N” not be capitalized?” Derek shook his head.

“They’re applied with a paint that fades in a day or two,” he said. “They mark their ships right before an attack. Soon after they depart, they split up and the insignias become as clear as glass on their hulls. It’s one of the main reasons they’ve managed to exist for so long.”

“If Neeka has their code or a code they use, couldn’t she disrupt it?”

“You’ll have to ask her,” Derek said. “She went up to the bridge about an hour ago to look into that code more. I think she’s acting on Macnelia’s orders. And I know Macnelia wants to know what the Nilcyns are up to as well. She may be angry and under pressure, but I think she’s still got us on the right path.”

“Thanks for the talk,” Jyra said, standing to leave.

“Time and talk is all I’ve got,” Derek said. He smiled, but he didn’t look as though he wanted Jyra to go.

                        *

Valiant Conductor II had come about so Tyrorken was visible from the bridge. The ship was locked at its coordinates to maximize the accuracy of the radar readings. Most of the lights were still off, although there wasn’t any ship close enough to tell the difference. Jyra glanced at her home world and then, through the gloom, spotted Neeka staring at a monitor. She approached and took the empty chair next to her.

“How’s it going?” Jyra asked.

“Slowly,” Neeka said, heaving a sigh.  The code paraded across the screen. Every few seconds, a vertical line of characters cut through those that marched horizontally.

“That’s one of the things that’s making this harder,” Neeka said, tapping one of the scrolling vertical lines. “As it intersects the standard lines, each character completes a phrase or word or who knows what. I can’t believe I didn’t remember where I’d seen this sooner. I never figured out what it meant, but it’s so distinctive.”

“The one that got away can still play tricks years later,” Jyra said.

“Plus it’s easy to lose focus when an obsession’s involved,” Neeka said.

“Can you tell who’s sending this?” Jyra asked.

“It’s still between TF and the Nilcyns,” Neeka said, leaning closer to the monitor. “I think it’s mostly transmissions from the Nilcyns. Whatever it is, they’re posting it quickly.”

“Are they trying to negotiate?” Jyra wondered aloud.

“Could be” Neeka said. The code was moving faster on the screen. “If they keep this up, the encryptor won’t sustain the pace much longer.”

“Will it slow the entire message transfer or will it just pass the raw data through?”

“I don’t know,” Neeka said. “They’ve been careful enough up to this point.”

“Can’t the computers aboard this ship decode this for us?” Jyra asked.

“This is as much as the computers can decode,” Neeka said, nodding at the monitor. “It’d be twice as hard to do on Mastranada’s computer.”

“How’s it going?” Macnelia said, appearing from behind and putting a hand on Neeka’s shoulder.

“About the same,” Neeka said. “I think the Nilcyns are getting frenetic with their transmissions, though. If we’re lucky, they’ll overrun the encryptor soon.”

“Let’s hope they do,” Macnelia said.

She turned to leave and Jyra stood up faster than she meant to, which led her to speaking quicker than she intended.

“Can I ask you something?” she blurted.

“Sure,” Macnelia said. “Follow me. I have to go check on the plans for the attack.”

“Who’s working on them?”

“Berk, Craig, and Shandra started right after they got situated in their new quarters. They’re not too far along I’m sure, but hopefully they have some ideas. But I don’t think that’s what you meant to ask about.”

“No,” Jyra said. “But actually it’s related.”

They climbed down the ladder from the bridge into the lower passage and headed aft.

“Something you said made me think we were going to destroy all the remaining TF ships,” Jyra said.

“Well yes,” Macnelia said breezily. “That’s the plan, but it may not be realistic to achieve in one attack. If we get into this fight and the battle turns against us, we’ll retreat. You can’t fight another day once you’re dead. So we’ll fall back and strike again.”

“What if they chase us?”

“We’ll isolate them and pick them off,” Macnelia said.

“How many ships are out there?” Jyra said. Macnelia finally stopped walking and turned around in the corridor.

“You’re trying to make some kind point,” she said sharply. “Just say it.”

“I’m worried that we can’t pull it off,” Jyra said. Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt the beginnings of relief, having finally spoken some of her thoughts.

“I don’t think we know enough about what we’re up against to organize such a thorough assault,” she added.

“Neeka will crack the code and we’ll be able to contact TF command,” Macnelia said. “We’ll pose as one of their ships returning from a mission and ask for an update on the crisis. Then we’ll know everything we need: ship counts, positions, and anticipated trajectories. And we’ll hit them.”

Jyra’s first thought was how soon Neeka would actually solve the code. At the moment, she seemed completely lost. Macnelia’s lips tightened.

“That sounds better,” Jyra lied. Macnelia didn’t seem to be in much of a mood to talk and she didn’t want her to get upset.

“Excellent,” Macnelia said. The word snapped like belt and Jyra took a deep breath, relieved that she had the sense to end the conversation.

It was a fleeting feeling. It occurred to Jyra that Macnelia had been the one dodging specifics. She spoke as if she had already decided how they were going to attack, yet she was on her way to discuss those very plans. What needed to be deliberated if Macnelia had the final word anyway?

She’s decided, Jyra realized, struggling to keep a level head as the consequences of this fact fought for her attention.

But there was doubt, she thought, recalling Macnelia’s words. “If the battle turns against us...” What does that mean? If she had been quicker, Jyra would have clarified what circumstances would cause the resistance to retreat from the attack. She didn’t want to discuss the assault with Macnelia anytime soon, but maybe she could uncover the details another way.

                        *

The planners weren’t hard to find; they were gathered under the laser cannons, staring at a projection on the floor. The image showed a real-time rendering of Tyrorken in space that even included some of the larger ships positioned around it. The tiny projector had been clipped onto one of the laser cannons, the lens glowed brightly as it cast light and data.

“I think we fly to the far side of the planet and orbit around to meet these ships locked in position,” Craig said, as Jyra approached. She saw Macnelia glance at her but didn’t meet her eyes.

“These ideas aren’t bad,” Macnelia said. “But none of them take into account what might be on the other side of the planet or what might come up from the surface.”

“We can’t know that,” Shandra said. “Leonick was right the first time we were on Tyrorken. The pollution disrupts the radar.”

“Now that you mention Leonick,” Berk said, “he’s been working on restoring Mastranada to full functionality.” Jyra chanced a look at Macnelia. She was frowning slightly and fortunately her attention was on Berk. Jyra knew she didn’t think fixing Mastranada was a priority.

“Some of us could scout with the smaller ship and maybe assess on what’s going on. I know Neeka’s working on the code and she also got that TF newsfeed broadcasting onboard. But the most accurate way to know what’s really going on down there is to use our own eyes.”

No one spoke following this suggestion, but Jyra could tell everyone was considering it. Macnelia broke the silence.

“It sounds too risky at this point,” she said. “Once Neeka cracks the code maybe we can get enough of a preliminary reading to make a couple passes with Mastranada as Craig said. This is a good first step, but we need to do more. The longer we wait, the more time the enemy has to regroup.”

She stood and left the hangar for the bridge without another word. Everyone exchanged curious glances. Craig finally cleared his throat and addressed what everyone was thinking.

“So,” he said looking sideways at Berk. “I didn’t realize we looked so alike.”

The tip of Berk’s flask disappeared into his whiskers as he emptied the contents into his mouth.

“We need to get this done before the stress wrecks her,” Berk said.

“Scouting definitely can’t hurt,” Shandra said, turning to gaze at Mastranada. “Maybe I should check with Leonick and get his opinion on the condition on the hull plates that might have been damaged.”

“You can do that once we get a decent plan formed,” Berk said, setting his flask on the floor. “We volunteered to construct this attack so we need to make a little more progress before we start any side projects.”

“It sounds to me like we were just put on hold,” Craig said, nodding toward Macnelia’s wake. “Neeka needs to find something in the that code before we can even scout.” Berk fidgeted with his empty flask. “I want to figure out how we’re going to take on the enemy, but I don’t want to do it blindly,” Craig added.

“Fine,” Berk grunted reluctantly. “I’m going to speak with Neeka. In fifteen minutes, though, we meet back here.”

“That’s all the time I need,” Shandra said, standing up and heading for Mastranada. Craig followed her and Jyra remained with Berk. He got to his feet and switched off the projector.

“What do you want?” he said, lumbering toward the main passage.

“I want to ask you about Macnelia,” Jyra said. “Something’s not quite right and don’t tell me it’s just stress. It’s more than that. She didn’t even realize she called you by the wrong name.”

“It was kind of Craig to wait to mention that until she was out of earshot,” Berk said, his voice a low growl. Jyra stared at him, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t know what’s happened to her,” he said, running his fingers through his grizzled hair. “I’ve tried to get a straight answer from her, but it hasn’t worked.”

Jyra didn’t know what to say.

“Thanks for telling it straight,” she muttered. “I mean, it’s about the only comforting part of it all. I just want to help her if I can.”

“We all do,” Berk said. “I don’t know if anyone else has picked up on it like you and me, but I think it’d be best not to share it with anyone. Not until we get this last attack out of the way.”

An uncomfortable weight materialized in Jyra’s gut at Berk’s words.

“That’s just it,” she said. “The way Macnelia’s been talking about this assault, it’s as though she wants it to be the final one. It seems she doesn’t care if it kills her, but if it does, then we’re all like to go with her.”