Part X: Nematocyst Blast

The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated out of the cellblock and entered Jyra’s dull mind. Her legs no longer shook. She remained hidden behind the desk as the guards strode toward the exit. Through her welling eyes she saw only a swimming mixture of white and gray. She felt the sensation of warm moisture on her arm, as well as on her cheeks, as the blood flowed from the wound like tears. When Jyra registered the red soaking through the sleeve of her topcoat, one of the guards spoke.

“What’s that?”

Jyra lifted her gun from the floor and inched toward the edge of the desk until she could peer around the corner. Her joints and limbs were stiff. She wiped her eyes and saw the guards crouched near the open door. Jyra’s stomach lurched as she noticed a drop of her blood on the floor halfway between the desk and the guards. A similar spot of crimson must have dripped from her wound when she sneaked into the room. The guards had spotted it and it wouldn’t take them long to find her.

“We’ve got to get the radar online again,” the second guard said. “Another Nilcyn strike force might land and we wouldn’t know.”

Jyra slid over to the far side of the desk and pulled herself up from the floor. She approached the guards from behind, careful to stay out of their peripheral vision. Jyra raised her gun. Sweat glistened between the trigger and the finger poised to pull it. She stopped a couple paces from her targets. Her arm extended and she shot the first guard through the neck. The second guard yelled and he instinctively dodged the gunfire. He had no cover and Jyra put a bullet in his head with a second shot.

The gun slipped from her fingers. Jyra stared at her hands, ignoring the dead men in the background. Her arms were steady. All understanding and purpose fled from her body as she sank to the ground. Voices cried out of the earpiece. Jyra slowly raised an arm and plucked the device from her ear. The acrid stench of the fired gun filled her nose and comprehension rushed into Jyra’s mind like water into a sinking boat. The cognitive grasp of her circumstances failed to jolt her into action.

“I need to go,” Jyra mumbled to herself.

She leaned forward to grab her gun. It took several tries before she forced it back into the holster. Her eyes were fixed on the door and she stood, knowing she needed to leave. A glance over her shoulder convinced her otherwise. Jyra walked back into the dim cellblock, unsure of what directed her steps.

The sight of the bodies of her parents caused her knees to fail. Her kneecaps slammed onto the hard floor with a heavy thud that was drowned out by Jyra’s wail. She held her left arm over her eyes and pounded the bars with her right fist. The volume of her cry surpassed the crashing of the metal. Her parents had been in separate, but adjacent cells. Tadwin’s right hand held Sherlia’s left. Jyra realized he must have reached for his wife after the guards shot them; their grasp would have been broken when they fell by the horizontal bars.

Overwhelmed, Jyra rolled onto her back as her tears ran over raw skin, washing the grit from her face. Her eyes hurt when they were open. She closed them and saw the faces of her family. TF had destroyed them all. She forced herself to look at the bodies again. Both of them had worn a business suit today. They had landed facedown, but Jyra knew both of their jackets had the TF logo embroidered on their chests. She stared at her mother, who was closer, and saw a fine gold chain on the back of her neck. Jyra hesitated, then reached through the bars. She took hold of the chain and gave a firm tug. The clasp gave way easily. Jyra pulled the necklace from under Sherlia and a locket came trailing into view. She picked it up, but couldn’t tell much else because her eyes were flooding again. Jyra put it in her pocket and thought she needed to say something aloud.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” she choked. “I’m sorry I ran away.” Jyra stopped talking as she remembered the final exchange she had with her parents. The guilt alone was enough to silence her. She sobbed for several minutes as her mind wandered, recollecting the rage she felt toward her parents for the contract they made with TF as well as the fights she had with them in the past that no longer mattered. Then she found herself remembering listening to her mother’s last words before the guards opened fire. Sherlia had been working to destroy TF, too.

“I’ll do it,” Jyra said. “Once we get Derek back, we’ll finish what you started.”

She wiped her nose and prepared to stand, but once again found herself immobilized. Her lip trembled and she resisted the urge to breakdown again, but couldn’t suppress it. She remained with the bodies, her head bowed in mourning.

The door to the corridor opened. Jyra noticed, but it was as though she heard the sound while submerged in a pool. She remained still, bound by grief. Whoever entered gasped, reacting to the slain guards.

“Hello!” a voice called, high and terse.

Jyra started to turn to greet the newcomer. Her hand brushed her weapon as she rotated in place. She could still smell the aroma rising from the firing chamber. It was the scent that banished the temporary shock brought on when her parents had been murdered. She didn’t want to look out of the cellblock. Whoever had arrived, Jyra knew the dead guards were still there, too. Instead of the faces of her departed family swimming in the blackness, she suddenly saw the image of the guard falling in Mastranada’s engine room after Berk shot him.

Footsteps in the cellblock returned Jyra’s attention to the hard floor. She willed herself to speak.

“I won’t hold anything against you if you kill me now,” she whispered. The person behind her drew closer. “All I want is to be with my family. Help me see them again.”

“Jyra, are you all right?”

She spun around and looked up into Craig’s pale face. He was trembling as he returned his gun to its holster.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice higher than usual. He knelt down and Jyra fell into him, carried by another wave of misery.

“They killed my parents!” she shouted into Craig’s topcoat. She heard him about to say something then felt his head swivel so he was looking into the cells.

“Why…? How…how could they?” he stammered.

“My mom,” Jyra said in a quivering voice. “She was passing information to the Nilcyns. Both of my parents wanted TF destroyed.”

“Did the guards hurt you?” Craig said. Jyra shook her head.

“Craig we need an update!” Neeka’s voice said through Craig’s earpiece.

“I’ve got her,” Craig replied. “We’re moving out.”

“It’s getting messy out here,” Neeka said. “Hurry!”

“Should we...?” Craig began, looking troubled. “Do you want…?”

“Leave them,” Jyra said. “Let’s go.”

Craig stood, helped Jyra to her feet, and the two of them left the cellblock. As they passed the fallen guards, Craig slowed his pace, eyeing the rifles. Jyra kept her gaze straight ahead and pulled Craig onward.

“Just keep moving,” she said stiffly.

“Right,” Craig said. “We got Derek out,” he added.

Jyra had imagined freeing Derek many times since she witnessed his capture. She always figured she’d feel a rush of elation. Everyone in the resistance would celebrate his safe return to their ranks. Jyra knew the importance of Derek’s rescue, but she couldn’t access any of the feelings that should have accompanied the success.

They made it to the stairwell with no trouble and started climbing back to exit the same way they came in. A door above them clanged shut and they heard voices.

“Into the corner,” Craig hissed, pulling Jyra against him. He freed his gun and they waited, listening to the footsteps drawing closer. Shadows rose in the light on the landing above them, the hinges of the door squealed, and the voices were gone.

Craig and Jyra continued upward. They paused at the door and saw a platoon of guards marching away from them down the hallway beyond. Shards of glass glittered on the floor.

“What’d they break?” Jyra mumbled.

“An air mask reserve,” Craig said. “I saw a bunch of empty compartments that used to hold them when I checked my location. All the clean air in the complex is escaping from where the missile hit.”

They made it back to the exit door without encountering anyone else. A carpet of dust had already gathered on the floor, blowing in through the warped doorframe.

“Where are the others?” Jyra said.

“Hopefully back on the ship,” Craig said. “You ready?”

Jyra nodded. Craig opened the door and they plunged into the punishing storm of dirt and smoke.

Night was falling and neither of them could see for a moment. They choked on the foul air and felt their way along the building. Gradually, Jyra’s eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings. She stared up and saw a torrent of burning debris shooting toward the earth. By the time she and Craig reached the corner of the complex, the deadly projectiles smashed into the ground, raising clouds of sparks and more dust.

“Run!” Craig shouted. He began coughing as he started down the gentle slope. Jyra sprinted after him. Clods of earth, sent airborne from the impact of a steel beam, pelted her as she staggered and coughed, fighting to stay upright.

Through the gloom, Jyra glimpsed the fuel storage tanks. Craig leapt aside as a sheet of engine cowling lodged into the ground nearby. Jyra dove behind it to avoid a barrage of bolts and flames as an engine landed to her right. Despite the shelter, she felt the wave of heat blow over her skin. Jyra and Craig reached the fuel tanks, but an incoming projectile distracted them. Craig realized the danger first and grabbed Jyra’s arm, wrenching her toward Mastranada. The projectile hit the nearest storage tank, ricocheted, and spilled flames over the dirt. Jyra saw the leaking fuel pooling and spreading across the soil. She understood Craig’s renewed sense of urgency.

Dust blasted from beneath Mastranada and the howl of the launch thrusters roared over the wind. The door opened, hands reached out, seized Craig and Jyra, and pulled them inside.

“Go!” a voice nearby shouted. Jyra felt the ship lurch into the air.

She lay in the corridor staring at the ceiling and gulping the fresh air. Everything smelled like dirt. Jyra coughed again and a cloud of dust issued from her mouth like smoke. Craig leaned against the wall, wheezing and pushing his hair back. His sweat turned the dust on his forehead to a slick wash of mud.

Mastranada banked suddenly to the left. A low growl like thunder filled the ears of everyone on board. It reminded Jyra of the explosion that destroyed the mountain base.

“Fuel tank blew,” Craig said. “A couple more seconds on the ground and that blast would’ve been the end of us.”

He caught Jyra’s eye and muttered an apology as his faced reddened. Jyra knew he didn’t mean to be insensitive, but she couldn’t help thinking her parents had already met their end. Part of her wished she were still outside, choking on dust and falling to her knees, unable to think about anything other than her burning lungs and dry throat.

“What’s going on?” Shandra said. Jyra saw her leaning against the wall opposite Craig; she had been one of the people who helped them aboard. Jyra coughed again, both from dust and emotion before she spoke.

“TF guards killed my parents,” she said. “I was in the detention facility when it happened.”

Despite her exhaustion, Jyra’s inner dialogue continued unabated. Why didn’t you do anything to stop it? it said. You were so close, you were armed, and you did nothing.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” Shandra said, taken aback.

“Me too,” Jyra said. “I wish I’d stopped it.” Craig detected Jyra’s tone.

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t blame yourself. I saw the rifles those guards had. You wouldn’t have stood a chance attacking them in the cellblock. I can’t believe you managed to kill them.”

“I surprised them,” Jyra said. “I’m sure I could have taken them before they shot my parents.”

“I don’t want you to regret something you didn’t do,” Craig said. “I know what it’s like.”

“No you don’t!” Jyra shouted. She stood up and stalked down the passage, wiping the tears away as they fell, simultaneously feeling anger toward Craig and shame for how she treated him. The path to her room was empty. She threw herself onto her cot, too tired for frustration or grief. Jyra pulled off her topcoat, rummaged in her duffel, and retrieved a small aid kit. She wiped her oozing wound with a sterilizing pad then tied a clean sock around it. Exhausted, she leaned back and fell asleep, fighting to ignore the faces of her departed family.

                        *

Jyra woke to the sound of tapping at the door. She noticed she was sleeping under the blanket Craig had given her and felt worse for losing her temper with him.

“Come in,” she said thickly, expecting to see Craig, but Macnelia pushed the door open. She still wore her topcoat. Her skin and hair were coated with dust. Her mouth turned into a small frown.

“I heard what happened,” she said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Jyra said. She didn’t feel any reassurance from the words and dreaded hearing similar sentiments from the others. “Where are we?” she added.

“We found a supply tank and managed to pump a little fresh water into the ship. We’ve landed to the north, beyond the combat zone. Folks are cycling through the shower and resting up.”

Jyra didn’t have the best sense of smell, but even she was suddenly aware of the odor of sweat that permeated her quarters.

“How’s Derek?” she said.

“Alive,” Macnelia said wearily. “Neeka’s looking after him in her room. Bastards didn’t treat his wound at all, but Leonick got the bullet out. His leg’s infected, but the antibiotics seem to be taking care of it. TF guards beat him up, but he’ll recover. Just needs rest now.”

“When are we dropping the bomb?” Jyra asked.

“As soon as I fix this to it,” Macnelia said. “I didn’t know if I’d have time to complete it, but I’m glad I did. She pulled a bright orange roll of cloth from under her coat.

It was only about three inches wide, but at least ten feet long. Brown letters had been embroidered into it.

“Back on Jiranthem, I used to be a kite racer,” Macnelia said.

“How do you race kites?” Jyra said.

“You race against others towed by kites,” Macnelia explained. “You stand on a board on the ocean and the kite pulls you along. Whoever crosses the finish line first wins.”

“Were you any good?”

“I won a few trophies,” Macnelia said. “I miss racing, but I figured I’d make a tribute to it with the bomb. I finally thought what to name it.”

She stretched the orange cloth tight so Jyra could read the writing.

“Nematocyst Blast,” Jyra said aloud. “I don’t get it.”

“The part of the sea we raced in sometimes had these creatures that drifted near the surface. A large bulbous part of their body kept them floating and they trailed long, thin tentacles underneath. Those tentacles had cells on them that would, as the term says, sting you if you touched them. It was much more than a sting, though.”

Macnelia hoisted the right leg of her trousers. Above her sock, Jyra saw an area of skin on her calf stained dark purple.”

“That spot is where I got stung, but that color covered my whole leg after it happened” Macnelia said. “As the venom spread, it felt like the veins in my leg were rupturing.”

“Sounds like a good name then,” Jyra said.

“The shape of the bomb resembles the buoy part of the creature and the kites I used to race,” Macnelia said. “I’m going to clamp this tail into the hatch cover, but I wanted to show it to you first.”

 “Why did you race if the creatures were out there?” Jyra asked.

Macnelia rolled up the tail and made to leave, but paused at the door.

“The thrill of racing was worth it,” she said.

She left and Jyra stared at the ceiling, wondering how stepping into an ocean might feel.

                        *

 Jyra pulled her towel off the rack and buried her face in it after her shower. She wiped the condensation off the mirror and inspected her wound in the reflection. The glass had made a straight, deep cut, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore.

The last of the dirt ran into the drain. Jyra watched it, wishing her sadness could flow away just as easily. Even after she had dressed, she felt like something was missing. She brushed her hair, telling herself there was no simply way to escape the grief.

Jyra left the washroom and headed down the hall. She raised her arms to tie back her hair and felt the shooting pain from her wound. Ignoring it, Jyra bound her wet locks into a ponytail as she descended a staircase.

At first, she thought she would go straight to see Derek, but she stopped by her room first to put on her topcoat. Satisfied with her appearance, Jyra proceeded down the hall and rapped on the door of Neeka’s quarters.

The door slid back and Neeka drew away from it, her face softening and Jyra remembered the news of her parents’ death had spread throughout the ship while she slept.

Against the far wall, Jyra saw Derek lying in Neeka’s bed. Though blankets covered his injured body, his face alone had many cuts and bruises.

“Hi,” he murmured. “A member of the rescue mission, I see.” He pointed at the badge on her coat.

Jyra didn’t know what to say. Derek’s black tousled hair framed eyes that were surrounded by dark rings. He had seemed a little overweight when he delivered the letter, now his body looked somehow diminished. He coughed once and sat up against two pillows.

“It could have been worse,” Derek smiled weakly. “Leonick’s got me patched up well enough.”

“How’s your leg?” Jyra said.

“It hurts, but should heal fine,” Derek said. “I’m sorry I didn’t clue you in sooner about what I was up to.”

Jyra knew this had upset her recently. Derek had apologized now and there didn’t seem to be much sense in allowing it to bother her anymore.

“And of course,” he added and Jyra identified the somber tone. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your parents. It’s too horrific to contemplate. I may be weak, but if you need anyone to talk to, we’re both here.”

He glanced at Neeka, locking his jaw. She gave a sympathetic smile in reply then opened her mouth to address Jyra, but Jyra spoke first.

“Did you ever hear if my mom was working against TF?” she said.

“She may have been, but she wasn’t associated with our group,” Derek said. “I don’t know if Dario mentioned anything to her about what we were up to.”

It seemed to Jyra the only person who could answer her question was her slain mother. She felt a wave of sadness, but managed to ignore it.

“Thank you,” she said, distracted by her emotions. Neeka and Derek watched her politely and Jyra realized the oddity of the phrase.

“I mean, thanks for getting me involved in this and bringing me the letter,” she continued. “If it wasn’t for you I’d probably be sitting at home, wondering where they…when they’d be home.”

Derek’s supportive gaze faltered. As she fought to maintain her composure, Jyra noticed the shift in his expression.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“They showed me footage,” he said slowly. “Your neighborhood was where most of my rig crew lived. The footage showed TF agents burning it.

“I can’t be sure if it’s real,” he added hastily. “They were trying to break me down. I delivered a couple letters to houses near yours.” Jyra swallowed hard.

“Well at least I wasn’t there,” she said after a moment.

“TF is short on time,” Neeka said. “We’ve got the advantage now.”

Derek nodded. Jyra expected to feel cheered by the news. She put her hands in her pockets and felt something metallic. Jyra turned toward the door.

“Feel better soon,” she said abruptly.

“Count on it,” Derek said, surprised by Jyra’s sudden departure.

She made her way back to her room and entered it before pulling her mother’s locket out of the topcoat. She sank onto the cot as her fingers released the clasp. The locket folded open. Two small photos occupied the center and two others, one on each side mounted on hinges, swung onto Jyra’s hands. Her parents stared out of the two central photos with fixed expressions.

The photos had been taken on a special occasion. Jyra recognized Sherlia’s formal dress and the collar of Tadwin’s button-up shirt. The photo of Dario was on the left. She stared at the part in his hair and bow tie that sat crookedly beneath his chin. He must have been about ten years old then. Jyra had to wipe her eyes in order to see the photo of herself. She wore a blouse that seemed large for her. Her wide smile elevated her entire face. She vaguely recalled the photo session. It had been taken at a studio in Mereda.

Jyra closed the locket, catching another glimpse of her younger self. For a moment, she wondered if she would ever look that happy again. Another idea entered her mind, and she shrugged off the coat and left the locket on top of her cot. She headed for the bridge, pondering Derek’s information.

Berk sat before his usual console. He was covered in dust and still wore his topcoat. Shandra leaned back in Jyra’s chair, surveying the monitor. Her hair was wet from the shower and she now wore slacks and the same long-sleeve shirt she’d worn while Jyra briefly helped her stock food in the galley. Berk turned around when Jyra entered the cockpit, approached, and pulled her into a tight hug.

“How are you holding up?” he asked once they stepped back from each other.

“As well as I can,” Jyra replied. “What’s going on here?”

“Macnelia’s been outside attaching the tail to the bomb, then we’re taking off for the attack run,” Berk said.

“All right,” Shandra said. It sounded like an interruption, but Jyra noticed the earpiece she wore.

“Macnelia’s back on board,” Shandra said. “Time to fly.”

“I’m going to beat her to the shower,” Berk said. “See you in a few.”

“We’re supposed to take off,” Shandra said.

“Macnelia needs to shower first anyway,” Berk said. “We won’t leave before that.” He departed, pulling off his topcoat, which sent dust billowing into the air.

“I actually wondered if we could make a stop before the bomb run,” Jyra said.

“What do you mean?” Shandra asked. Jyra crossed to Berk’s chair and took a seat.
“Derek just told me he saw footage of TF burning my neighborhood. I want to see if it’s true. Either way, I’d like to visit my home one last time. After we drop the bomb, aren’t we heading straight into space?”

Shandra thought for a moment. Then she grimaced and Jyra heard a voice coming from the earpiece.

“Turn it off before you yell,” Shandra said before pulling off the earpiece. “Macnelia’s mad at Berk for showering first.”

“At least we can communicate throughout the ship now,” Jyra said.

“I wish Leonick had put these together sooner,” Shandra said. “They would have been a big help in the mountains.”

“Do they have a location tracker in them, too?” Jyra said, finding the technical talk to be a great distraction from her misery.

“Leonick said they’d be too much of a hassle to have an adaptable locator program built in, but they can pinpoint the wearers location on the surface of planet. Leonick crunched the numbers using blueprints of the complex to calculate where we were within the complex based on where the earpieces reported we were on planet surface.”

“Even though we were on different floors?” Jyra said.

“The guy has a mind,” Shandra said.

Jyra remembered Leonick talking about time travel and where he had come from. She wondered if he had discussed it with anyone else. Jyra was about to ask Shandra if she knew anything about it, but Shandra spoke first.

“I know you told Craig he doesn’t know what you’re going through,” she said. “But I want to let you know that I do.”

The reality of her parents’ death came rushing back to Jyra and she shifted uneasily in her chair.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I told you I was metalworker,” Shandra said. “I had good job on Jekka as a hull plate sealer. I was one of the top students at the training academy, but that means nothing if you ever make a mistake. And that’s what I did.”

“What happened?” Jyra said.

“I rose through the hierarchy at the shop and soon had some apprentices working under me. A luxury cruiser was in dock for a hull plate job. For whatever reason, my team didn’t prioritize as well as usual. The deadline came up and we were close to completing the job. The starboard aft portion was all we had left and the deadline hit. I took another day to finish it up. A week later the cruiser took off on a sold-out trip to tour the main planets. It broke up in the atmosphere, killing everyone aboard. Analysis of the wreckage revealed a fissure had opened near the engine room on the starboard side. The pressure fluctuation ruptured a fuel tank and all that fuel ignited. My oversight caused that wreck.

“Needless to say, I lost my job and was cut and branded with this mark to ensure I’d never work in the field again in this system.” She pulled her right sleeve back and, just below her elbow, Jyra saw scar tissue in the shape of an X in the middle of a circle of distorted and wrinkled skin. It stood out against the other scars she’d received from common labor.

“The worst part is I found out my parents were aboard,” Shandra said. She paused and dragged a sleeve across her eyes.

“I miss them as you miss yours and maybe you and me could have done things differently to save them, but those are the sort of thoughts that keep you from remembering them as they ought to be remembered. Those thoughts undermine you. It’s been five years and I’m still fighting those ideas.”

Shandra pushed herself out of her chair made for the exit. She stopped at the door and added, “tell Macnelia I support your request to stop by your house before we make the bomb run.”

 Jyra remained in her chair, processing Shandra’s monologue. She didn’t have long to think about it because Macnelia and Craig entered the cockpit after a few minutes.

“What’s going on?” Macnelia said. “Where’s Shandra?”

“She left,” Jyra said. “I’m not sure where she went.”

 Craig fell into Shandra’s vacant chair and looked at the monitor. He navigated away from the earpiece control and checked the radar.

“According to ship IDs, it looks like TF might be gaining the upper hand,” he said.

“I don’t care if he’s in the shower or not, let’s go,” Macnelia snapped.

“I actually have a favor to ask,” Jyra said, wishing Macnelia were in a better mood. She didn’t seem particularly receptive to new plans at the moment.

“I went and saw Derek. He told me he was forced to watch footage of TF burning my neighborhood. I’d like to drop by there and see if it’s true. Shandra thinks it’s a good idea.”

“So do I,” Craig said. “Once we release the bomb, we won’t be able to go there anyway.”

“One more delay shouldn’t matter at this point,” Macnelia said, but Jyra could tell she was angry. “It’ll have to be quick, though. If the battle is favoring TF, we need to get to the complex before they restore its defenses or this will all be much harder. I’m going to take a shower now.”

Macnelia left and Craig swiveled back to face the screen. Jyra stared at the back of his head and cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to say what I said.”

“I know,” Craig replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

                        *

 Berk shifted in his chair, rubbing damp strands of hair out of his face. He and Jyra piloted Mastranada to the east. Jyra had gotten her wish. They were only five minutes from her home or, if the footage was correct, what was left of it.

The ascending smoke foreshadowed what would be on the ground before the door opened to reveal the damage. Mastranada landed in the middle of the street. On either side of the ship, the houses had been burned down to their foundations. Wrapped in her topcoat, Jyra jumped out of the ship and crossed to the wreckage of her home. Smoke coiled out of the smoldering piles of ash. Odors from oil refineries mixed with those of burned juniper and baked plastic. Distant thuds of explosions echoed across the plains. Berk, Craig, and Macnelia, in a better mood after her shower, followed behind Jyra as she stepped into the charred remains of what had been her living room. She moved to where the kitchen used to be and reached into the rubble.

“Here’s a seventh one for you,” she said, tossing Berk her father’s flask. Her fingertips were soiled with the charcoal that had gathered on the metal. Jyra placed a fingertip on her forehead and smudged a new Mourning Mark there. She saw several bolts kicked together that had once attached the tabletop to its legs. Just days ago, Jyra had sat there when Derek had delivered the letter. She heard the click of a camera and saw Macnelia taking pictures of the destruction.

“Why would they do this?” Craig said, dusting the charcoal off his hands after he picked up a can.

“I think it was to see if they could get more information out of Derek,” Jyra said. “Or to punish my parents. They knew everyone on this block.”

Berk met Jyra’s eyes and Jyra was sure they both experienced the same thought. Berk set off toward the other house sites and Macnelia followed while Jyra continued exploring what was left of her home. She found a dagger in what had been Dario’s room. The weapon was in the remains of a desk drawer. The flames had damaged neither the blade, nor the handle. Nearly everything else was now coals and ash.

“I think we should go,” Craig said. Jyra nodded, placed the dagger in her pocket, and the two of them traipsed back toward the ship. Jyra expected to feel a greater sense of loss, but instead felt somewhat relieved. She couldn’t explain why she felt freer. She and Craig waited by the ship as Macnelia and Berk returned from down the road. As they approached, Jyra threw an arm around Craig and pulled him to her side. Macnelia raised her camera and took a photo.

“A final memory made on this rock,” Jyra said with a weary smile.

They opened the door and climbed back into the ship, welcoming the fresh air.

“Some people were burned in those houses,” Berk said gravely, confirming Jyra’ fears.

“What?” Jyra said.

“Definitely bodies in rubble,” Berk said, taking a swig from his flask.

Jyra sighed and swallowed hard as she began imagining the people who had been barricaded in their homes while TF agents set the houses ablaze. Nearly all of those neighbors were at Dario’s funeral.

“Let’s drop the bomb,” she said.

They all made their way to the cockpit. Berk and Jyra took their seats. Macnelia picked up the earpiece Shandra left on the console and spoke.

“We’re initiating the bomb run,” she said. Jyra and Craig analyzed the radar data while Berk began takeoff procedures.

“The Nilcyns are definitely retreating to space,” Craig said. “TF has increased ground artillery defenses.”

“We can outmaneuver them, I expect,” Jyra said. It was obvious that their attack run would be much harder now than it would have been if they hadn’t visited Jyra’s neighborhood.

Shandra and Leonick entered the cockpit.

“Neeka and Derek aren’t coming up,” Shandra said.

“Understandable,” Macnelia said. “Let’s go.”

Mastranada leapt into the air and flew toward the combat zone. Craig clung to the back of Jyra’s chair, Macnelia to the back of Berk’s, and Leonick and braced themselves in the doorway.

“Switch to the incendiary mount target screen,” Berk said. “We won’t need the radar.”

Jyra pulled up the controls and selected the correct mount. A target request field opened automatically.

“Are we making a pass to see if we should target the shipyard or the complex?” Berk asked.

“I’ve thought about that,” Macnelia said. “What do you think, Leonick?”

“If the bomb falls between the complex and shipyard more to the north, it will provide maximum damage,” Leonick said.

“That’s what we’re after,” Berk said.

Laser bullets and missiles lit up the sky ahead of them. Closer to the ground, they saw ships ascending.

“More TF ships are launching,” Jyra said. “The Nilcyns must be holding their own in space.”

“We’ll for sure soon,” Macnelia said. “We’re close enough to designate the target.”

Jyra tapped the request field and a map of the ground beneath them filled the screen. Jyra zoomed out and located the TF complex.

“Where were you thinking?” Jyra said, turning to face Leonick. He walked forward and squinted at the screen.

“Here,” he said, tapping the screen twice. A box asking to confirm the location opened on the monitor and Jyra confirmed it.

“Two minutes until we reach the target,” she said.

“Hold on!” Berk shouted. Leonick jumped back into the doorway just before Mastranada banked to the right. The flares of two missiles lit up the cockpit as they flew by.

“We’re a target, too,” he said, wiping his brow. “Keep your eyes peeled for incoming munitions.”

“What about the radar?” Craig said.

“Won’t help from this range,” Berk said. “By the time we see it on the screen, we’ll be dead.”

“Closing in,” Jyra said. A detonation nearby rocked the ship and Craig nearly lost his grip on Jyra’s chair.

The TF complex was in sight. They were approaching from nearly the same direction as before.  A plume of smoke from the remains of the fuel storage tanks behind the facility billowed upward.

“One minute,” Jyra said.

“Got a spray of laser bullets coming in from the northwest,” Macnelia said.

Berk sent the ship into a dive to avoid the barrage. Jyra saw the cannon barrels swiveling from a battery on the ground.

“Pull up and turn to port!” she said.

Mastranda groaned as it leapt sideways and shot toward the sky.

“Bring us back toward the target,” Macnelia said.

“Working on it,” Berk said through his teeth. “It’s not a target if we’re not there to bomb it.”

He pulled the ship back on course, bringing it between the shipyard and the complex. Jyra’s fingers hovered over the release button.

“Watch out!” Shandra shrieked.

“I see it,” Berk said, jumping the ship higher.

“Target in range,” Jyra said.

“Do it!” Macnelia ordered.

Jyra hesitated. Craig leaned in from behind her and hit the button. The mount arms parted and Nematocyst Blast tumbled free.

“Mount’s clear,” Jyra said.

“Watch out for that ship!” Leonick said. Mastranada was headed straight for a large TF freighter and they could all see the guns on board aiming toward them. When Berk flipped Mastranada to head the other direction, they glimpsed the orange tail flapping behind the bomb. The ship pulled up and began flying toward the clouds when a flash seared across the cockpit, blocking out everything beyond it. The ship quivered as it rose, riding a massive shockwave from Nematocyst Blast.

Mastranada reached the clouds when another TF ship appeared. Parts of the hull smoldered and it had been heavily damaged in battle. Two of its cannons targeted Mastranada. Berk diverted by heading back toward the ground. Jyra saw a crater and fires burning where the TF complex used to be. Far below, the freighter that had menaced them fell to the ground, overwhelmed by the force of Nematocyst Blast.

“Pull up radar!” Berk ordered.

Jyra did and Macnelia glanced over at the screen.

“That ship’s following us,” she said.

Berk steered Mastranada to face the sky again and gunned the engines.

“It shouldn’t be able to handle another pass into space,” he said. “The stress will break it.”

The enemy ship fired several rounds and missed. Mastranada burst into the cover of the clouds at last. Jyra saw stars glittering beyond. Then the scene of the battle became visible. Debris from ruined ships filled space. The larger pieces were sucked toward Tyrorken and everything else drifted aimlessly.

A TF ship engaged a Nilcyn spacecraft nearby and the glow of the lasers flickered against Jyra’s eyes. Another pair of ships dueled from afar with missiles. A stabilizer, blown free of its ship and spinning as it glided, hit Mastranada.

“Now we just need to get out of here with no one seeing us,” Berk said.

“Or deciding to follow,” Jyra said.

Berk fired the engines when he spotted a possible escape route. Suddenly a round of lasers rushed by the cockpit. Realizing the munitions originated behind them, Berk flew forward to escape the danger, but it was too late. The heavily damaged ship they encountered just below the clouds fulfilled its goal. Though it couldn’t make it back out to space, its laser bullets could. Just as Berk accelerated, a laser struck the stern. The impact threw everyone in the cockpit sideways as Mastranada spun out of control and headed toward a TF freighter.

Part IX: Breaching the TF complex

“Where?” Jyra asked.

“I discovered it when I worked at TF with Macnelia,” Neeka said.

“What are you talking about?” Shandra said, taken aback by the urgency.

“I saw a code broadcast by the Nilcyn fleet and I knew I’d seen it before,” Neeka said. “I didn’t remember I’d first seen it at TF until just now.”

“Why would the Nilcyns be sending—?” The three registered the idea before Shandra could finish speaking it.

They stood in silence, which was broken only by the fading noise of the launch thrusters as they spun to a stop.

“Berk and I saw the fleet as they approached Tyrorken,” Jyra said, after taking several breaths. “They were moving into an attack formation. That doesn’t make sense if they’re in league with TF. There’s nothing worth targeting.”

“I need to see if the computer’s calibrated,” Neeka said. “We’ll know more once I can hack into their system again.”

They set off for the cockpit. All desire to step back on her planet vanished from Jyra’s focus. How could the Nilcyns be connected to TF? From Jyra’s perspective, no entity could be worse than the evil enterprise that threatened Tyrorken. If TF had command of the Nilcyns, a renegade fleet of space pirates, Jyra cast aside any lingering doubts toward dropping the bomb.

When the three reached the cockpit, they found everyone else clustered inside, checking monitors or surveying the arid landscape through the glass.

Neeka pushed passed Leonick and Craig, making for Berk’s usual seat. Shandra entered ahead of Jyra, who remained in the doorway and called over the murmuring and commotion.

“Neeka’s made a discovery. Based on a code she saw transmitted by the Nilcyns, it appears as though they may be working in alliance with TF,” Jyra announced.

Berk and Macnelia, now displaced from the console as Neeka took the chair, gathered behind her to watch.

“What do you mean?” Macnelia said, addressing no one in particular.

“When we were programming the radar,” Neeka said in a rush, her eyes locked onto the screen as her fingers flashed over the keyboard, intuitively striking keys to begin searching for enemy transmissions. “I don’t know how I found this code, but I never forget about it because to this day I haven’t solved it.” 

At that moment, Neeka sat back, shaking her head. The monitor showed the computer didn’t detect any frequencies.

“There is too much interference,” Leonick said. “The pollution levels will weaken any signal and if the Nilcyns are communicating with the headquarters for Tyrorken Fuels, they are close enough to do so over impenetrable networks. That is based on my assumption that they are on good terms.”

“Is there anything we can find out while we’re sitting here?” Craig said. “Do we have any of the blueprints handy to plan a rescue mission?”

“Things are different,” Macnelia said, pushing her hair back. Jyra noticed she still looked rather haggard. “I don’t think anyone thought there’d be a Nilcyn fleet nearby during our operations.”

Macnelia paused, frowning and furrowing her brow. Everyone waited in silence. Neeka turned away from the monitor, fixing Macnelia with a pleading look.

“We should fly closer and eyeball the strike zone. We’ll keep low to the surface and hopefully stay off enemy radar,” Macnelia said. “Pilots, take us in as close as you think is safe. Everyone else, to the cargo bay to prepare our gear.”

Jyra started the launch thrusters as she sat down. Neeka left her chair looking dejected, and Berk settled into it.

“Wouldn’t it be great if TF and the Nilcyns destroyed each other?” he sighed.

“Maybe if Derek wasn’t held prisoner in the complex right now,” Jyra said.

“Just being hypothetical,” Berk said. “Let’s go see the real thing.”

Mastranada leapt off the cracked earth and began flying east. The dust that collected on the cockpit glass when the ship was parked thankfully blew away. As they climbed over a line of dunes, Berk grunted as he glanced at his monitor.

“I got the slightest radar read,” he said. “It just flashed in and out.”

“We can climb a little higher,” Jyra said. “Maybe we’ll get a stronger signal.”

Berk adjusted the engines and the ground shrank away as they ascended. The natural light faded as the haze surrounded the ship, but Berk leveled off.

“Got it,” he said. Jyra saw him staring at the screen, his brow furrowed like Macnelia’s. “I think,” he added.

Jyra crossed to check his monitor and felt as confused as Berk. The radar showed Tyrorken and the Nilcyn fleet in space above the planet, but the ships were scattering.

“There are other ships,” Jyra said, surprised both to see the number of additional active spacecraft around the Nilcyns. Berk nodded.

“They’re fighting,” he said. Jyra leaned in and saw the digital rendering of a battleship disappear as its steel counterpart was destroyed.

“Looks like the battle started without us,” Berk said.

                        *

“What do you mean?” Macnelia said.

“From the radar readout, it looks like the Nilcyns are fighting above the TF complex,” Jyra said, leaning on a crate in the cargo bay. Berk remained in the cockpit, but had insisted Macnelia be told about the battle immediately.

“TF is all that could be sending up a defensive force,” Craig said, speaking from the floor where he had surrounded himself with plans of the complex. “Nothing else has the resources.”

“Understood,” Macnelia said. “New plan. Land as close as we can to TF without raising suspicion. Craig, keep working on those plans. We’ll need to get in and out with Derek as quick as possible.”

Jyra nodded and ran back to the cockpit. Berk brought the ship low to the ground again.

“We’ve passed a couple of pit mines,” he said. “What’s the word?”

“Bring the ship in as close to TF as we can without being fired upon.”

“At least that’s specific,” Berk said.

“We’ll be there soon if you’ve seen the mines.”

“Hard to miss. They’re enormous.”

“Climb!” Jyra cried.

Berk angled the engines and ship pulled up, barely clearing the top of a rig tower.

“I’ll watch for those now,” he said.

The haze became thicker and Berk took Mastranada higher. Once they were above the smog, Jyra looked ahead and saw the TF complex, a looming steel and glass structure. She had always thought it resembled a fearsome reptile because the main entrance had been cantilevered over the parking lot. Jyra used to imagine the floors over the main doors would come crashing down like a jaw and eat the vehicles and people underneath it. The building extended back from the parking lot and had been constructed around existing machinery so it was narrow and curved. The glass exterior reflected the sky, creating a brown sheen like scales to complete the reptilian image in Jyra’s mind.

Despite the perpetual cover of the sullied clouds, they weren’t thick enough to hide the light from the explosions above them. Berk checked battle on the radar screen.

“Lost some more ships,” he said.

“We should get out of the haze and start looking for places to land,” Jyra said. They were closing fast on the TF complex. Mastranada aimed toward the ground and nothing could be seen out of the cockpit for a few moments. As they dropped out of the haze, Berk had to negotiate a hasty pull-up again as the roofs of buildings appeared before them. Jyra spotted the perimeter wall that circled the TF campus.

“It’d be nice to land inside of that,” she said.

“Risky, though,” Berk pointed out. “TF is under attack and if they weren’t prepared for it, they’ll be scrambling, which bodes well for us. Or, they were ready, which means we might be targeted immediately.”

“Let’s fly beyond the wall and see what happens,” Jyra suggested.

Mastranada soared onward and entered TF airspace. Jyra watched as they passed between vast storage tanks and abandoned pressurized steam systems. They made a sharp turn and headed back the way they came. Jyra stared at the massive complex, searching for guards or laser cannons.

“How about we land between those tanks?” Berk said, pointing at the round vats ahead of them.

“All right,” Jyra said. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but the seeming lack of activity at the complex put her on edge. The launch thrusters engaged and Mastranada landed on the gravel, relatively concealed by the fuel storage tanks. Jyra got to her feet, which felt heavier than usual. She walked out of the cockpit ahead of Berk and reached the cargo bay sooner than she expected.

Macnelia had changed and now wore ankle-high boots, dark brown dungarees, and a long-sleeve black shirt. She had tied her hair back and strapped a wide belt around her waist.

“We get a good spot?” Macnelia asked when Jyra and Berk stepped into the room around a large crate.

“You can knock on the backdoor if you like,” Berk said.

“I’ll let the bomb do that later,” Macnelia said.

“It’s strange,” Jyra said. “There’s no sign of anyone. We weren’t fired upon or anything.”

Macnelia considered this information, but after a moment clapped her hands.

“Well, we should take advantage of that. Come get your gear.”

Jyra walked around the main pile of crates and saw the floor covered in supplies for the rescue mission. A number of thin topcoats, all identically dyed to mimic the hue of the haze outside, were stacked in a pile. Berk strode forward and retrieved his shotgun from the collection of guns that had been laid out. Coils of rope, some tied to grappling hooks, were displayed against the wall.

Craig still sat on the floor drawing on the blueprints before him, his tongue between his teeth.

“Where’s everyone else?” Jyra said.

“In their rooms getting ready,” Macnelia said. “Except Leonick and Neeka. They’re staying aboard.”

“They are?” Jyra said, surprised. She assumed Neeka would want to come help rescue Derek.

“Neither of them believes they would be much help in a fight. Anyway, we need to keep the ship protected and we won’t get far without com equipment operators.”

“Com equipment?” Jyra was beginning to wonder whether she should be participating in the mission, given how little she seemed to know about it.

“Leonick’s calibrating the earpieces right now,” Macnelia explained. “He’ll make sure the channel stays private so we can all talk to each other when we’re inside. Neeka’s going to see if she can hack into anything that might be helpful. Maybe she’ll deactivate the locks on all detention wings.”

“I don’t think we’ll be that lucky,” Berk said, before taking a hearty swig from his flask.

“Neither do I,” Macnelia said grimly. “You both better change. Wear the heaviest clothes you have. Meet back here in three minutes and bring your badges.”

Jyra went to her room and pulled out a pair of trousers she used to wear to work. They were covered in patches where sparks from welding had damaged them. She slipped them on and fastened the button, realizing her hands were shaking. In the bottom of the duffel, Jyra found a gray button-up shirt and suddenly remembered it used to be Dario’s. She crumpled it briefly in her fists and felt the fearful tremors subside. The buttons on the shirt didn’t challenge her fingers at all. The badge lay on the floor beside her duffel. Jyra stepped into her boots, retied them, and grabbed the badge before leaving her quarters.

“Excellent,” Macnelia said, smiling. Jyra could tell she was nervous, too; the smile showed signs of strain around the edges. Macnelia knelt by the topcoats and pulled one out that looked to be the correct size. Jyra threw it over her shoulders. It was much lighter than the fur coat she wore in the mountains. She noticed Craig had left, presumably to prepare like the others.

“More for disguise than anything,” Macnelia said, admiring the way the coat hung on Jyra. She took the badge and used a couple pins to fix it near Jyra’s lapel. “All you need now is a weapon and the route you’ll take.” She spoke as though Jyra were heading off for another day of work at the garage.

Jyra selected the same handgun she had worn on the missions from the mountains. She strapped the holster around her hip and turned toward the door from the main passage as voices heralded the return of the others. Shandra appeared first, clad in black shoes, the same kind of dungarees Macnelia wore, and a dark blue shirt. Half a dozen grenades hung from a bandolier slung over one shoulder that attached to her belt. A gun also glinted from its holster at her hip.

Craig appeared next, dressed in overalls he often wore to the garage. His boots were more worn that Jyra’s. His face looked whiter than usual. Berk came next, but Jyra didn’t see any change in his appearance. He still wore his heavy coat. Neeka and Leonick entered last. Leonick untangled five earpieces and distributed them as the newcomers picked up their topcoats and allowed Macnelia to pin on their badges. She also gave the rescue team members two small metallic strips.

“I’ve made some progress,” Neeka told Macnelia. “I’ve isolated some frequencies I’m certain are transmissions from the battle. The sooner I can get back to hacking, the better.”

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Macnelia said and then she raised her voice to address the whole group. “This is it, people. We’ve got this last mission to complete before we can fulfill our ultimate purpose for being here. Although we know TF has detention facilities in its complex, we don’t know which one Derek is in. Chances are low he’s in confinement offsite.

“Craig has plans of the complex he obtained from Derek a few months ago. Based on discussions between the two of them, Craig has mapped out likely locations to scout once we’re inside.”

Craig gathered the plans on the floor and placed them on top of a crate. Everyone gathered around as he described the areas of interest in the complex.

“We’re going to enter from the west. The door nearest to us is on that side and, according to Derek, usually has minimal security. It is hard to monitor because nearby machinery reduces visibility. Once we’re inside, we’ll break off and each person is responsible for checking a designated location.”

Macnelia began speaking again. “The earpieces give us an advantage because we can update each other as well as Leonick back here on the ship. Someone gets into trouble, call for help and listen for instructions. The earpieces also beam your position to Leonick so he can coordinate assistance efforts. This goes without saying, but once you find Derek, let everyone know. Any detention locks will likely be broken with these—” she held up her metallic strips—“Be aware of what’s going on around you. At this point, TF must be distracted with the Nilcyn attack. Ideally, we’ll head in, grab our guy, and get out of here before they realize we’re even inside.”

She stopped talking and everyone seemed to avoid looking at each other. The magnitude of situation fell on Jyra’s shoulders. She felt her body stiffen under the weight, as though a massive hammer struck her from above and she tried to resist the blow. For the first time, Jyra faced the idea that she might wind up like Dario. The baleful energy in the room suggested others were thinking along similar lines.

“Earpieces in,” Macnelia said, speaking as she drew a deep breath. “Neeka and Leonick, return to the cockpit and give us the word when it’s safe to exit.”

“Good luck,” Neeka said stiffly, fighting to keep herself composed. Leonick gave a small bow toward the group and headed for the exit. Neeka threw her arms around Macnelia and shuddered as she took a gulp of air.

“See you soon,” Macnelia said, giving a small smile of encouragement. She brushed one of Neeka’s tears aside before turning toward the group. Neeka rushed from the cargo bay.

Shandra picked up a grappling hook and lashed the rope coil to her belt. Berk imitated her. Jyra and Craig fitted their earpieces in place, clipping the devices over their ears beneath the hairline.

The five moved out into the passage that led to the small door out of the ship. They waited in the semidarkness, listening to their own breathing, but hearing no sound from those next to them.

“Clear,” Leonick’s voice said into their heads.

Berk pressed the door button and jumped out into the dust of Tyrorken, followed by the rest of the group.

                        *

Everyone began coughing. Their first breaths sucked the smog into their lungs. Despite spending her life on the planet, Jyra had never struggled to breathe as she did now.

“This is their defense,” Berk wheezed over the coughs of others. “No one can get close to do any damage without suffocating.”

They staggered around the fuel storage tank and moved into the open. The TF complex towered before them, constructed at the top of a gentle slope. Over the noise of the wind, they heard muted explosions overhead as TF and Nilcyn vessels clashed. Jyra pulled the topcoat around her face. She was able to take a few improved breaths, but the buildup of dust on the fabric soon made it impractical.

She looked back and saw they had traveled farther than she thought, but the complex didn’t appear to be any closer. Berk led the group, a hulking figure lurching up the slope. Macnelia or Shandra were the next two, then Craig, and Jyra brought up the rear. The coat flapped against Jyra’s legs, reminding her of the way the breeze tugged at the long garments people wore to Dario’s funeral. She had picked clothes that were the least vulnerable to the wind because it was one of the few natural forces on Tyrorken she and Dario could appreciate. They would fly kites and chase the sporadic vortexes of dust. After Dario’s death, the wind became a testament to his memory and Jyra’s joy of the breeze died with her brother.

Jyra nearly walked into Craig, who had slowed his pace. They had reached the corner of the complex. Berk surveyed ahead and then proceeded out of sight.

“Come forward,” his voice crackled in the earpieces. Once they moved onto the west wall, the wind and choking dust subsided. A network of pipes and distillers were clustered about ten feet from the building. The group moved in single file, creeping against the smooth glass.

“I can see the door,” Berk reported. “It’s just—”

Neeka’s voice suddenly cut across Berk’s transmission.

“Rescue team, alert, alert! Inbound missile, targeting four thousand feet north from your present position! Retreat! Inbound missile! Retreat!”

“Back!” Berk roared and Jyra heard him even without the earpiece. They all scampered back to the southwest corner and clustered on the south wall. Jyra looked up and saw the silver glimmer, leaving a white contrail.

“Now, we’ll see how accurate the complex defenses are,” Macnelia said with a scratchy voice.

The missile dropped suddenly, bearing down on TF. Jyra thought she heard a high-pitched whistling noise.

“Estimated one minute until impact,” Neeka said. There was no missing the despair in her voice.

Unseen batteries activated and rounds of laser bullets streaked skyward toward the missile. Most of them traveled through the wake of the explosive.

“Miss,” Berk said.

A second barrage tracked the missile with greater accuracy and just when a bullet nearly made contact, the explosive rolled sideways, dodged another bullet, and recalibrated to its target.

“I think we’re actually going to witness the superiority of Nilcyn weaponry this time,” Berk said. “Laser bullets won’t bring it down.”

A third attack failed to destroy the missile.

“Everyone get back!” Berk said. They felt the building shudder before the sound of the impact reached their ears. A rumbling note, so deep it only seemed possible for it to have originated deep within the earth, rolled over the TF complex and out into the plains. From their end, the building appeared unharmed. None of the glass panels above them shattered. Moments after they felt the sound of the explosion, debris from the north came to them. Shards of glass fell like confetti. They all recognized the danger at once.

“Inside!” Berk said. “And keep an eye above you!”

They charged ahead, trying to watch where they were going as well as the air above them, which now contained thousands of pieces of tumbling wreckage. Twisted steel beams crashed into the machinery to their left. Airborne wall panels broke on the edge of the roof over them. Berk reached the door first and discovered it was locked.

“Keep an eye above you!” he repeated. Then he took a step back and charged at the metal door. He brought his boot against it, just above the latch. The image of the dented panel in the cockpit surfaced in Jyra’s mind and she knew what would happen. The door burst open from the force of Berk’s kick. As Jyra watched his performance, she didn’t heed his warning and a sheet of glass plunged noiselessly toward her. A jagged edge grazed her left arm above the elbow and tore through the skin like a razor blade.

She felt the cool air swirling around the wound and the flow of warm blood before she realized what had happened.

“Come on!” Craig shouted at her. Jyra looked up and saw him gesturing ahead of her. Everyone else had run through the door.

She jogged forward, jumping as another chunk of wall crashed onto a distillery to her left. Jyra reached the door and noticed the whole jamb had been warped by Berk’s strength. She ducked in after Craig as scorched steel beams rained onto the earth.

“What happened?” Shandra said, pointing at Jyra’s arm.

“Little scratch,” Jyra said wearily, tugging the sleeve back. The cut was about three inches long.

“That’s deep,” Berk said. “That needs to be cleaned and bandaged,” he added with a smile.

“It’s not funny,” Macnelia said. “Something falling from that height like glass wouldn’t need to be very big to kill you, let alone take off your arm.”

“Are you all right?” Craig said.

“I think so,” Jyra said. “In fact—” she raised her wounded arm to point at the wall—“I’ll be fine thanks to the TF commitment to safety.” Everyone followed the direction of her gesture and saw an aid box on the wall.

While Macnelia wrapped Jyra’s arm, the others checked the nearby passages. The floors were white and the walls and ceiling were painted gray. Their surroundings were so sterile, it looked as though no one had ever walked in these corridors.

“General rule,” Berk said, addressing the group. “Don’t shoot unless you have to. First, the noise might attract reinforcements. Second, anyone you encounter might have useful information and they’ll likely give it if they’re staring into your gun’s eye. That said, if we get another inbound missile, shoot whatever you need to get out of the building as soon as you can. Understood?”

The group gave affirmative murmurs and moved farther into the complex. They could hear the faint noise of debris from the explosion still hitting the roof.

“All right,” Craig said once they reached an intersection where their corridor widened. “Time to divide and locate. Macnelia, you’ve got the lowest detention facility. Shandra, you’ve got the northwest one two floors up, I think. Berk yours is the southeast. Jyra, you’ve got the lower northeast one and I’ve got the one straight up from here at the top, the executive detention facility.”

“If only that existed,” Shandra said.

She and Jyra set off as the group scattered without another word. They walked in silence, making an effort to mute the sound of their footsteps. Shandra pulled her gun free and held it at her side. Jyra stopped, noticing the sign next to a door to their right. Beyond it, they found a staircase. Shandra gave a reassuring nod and then began running up the stairs, two at a time.

Jyra sighed and began her descent. At each turn of the winding flights of stairs, she heard the wall-mounted lights buzzing. Despite her best efforts, her boots still thudded on the treads and echoed above and below. Her nerves prevented any cohesive thought and her mind began inventing horrific ideas. What if she found Derek, but he had been killed and left in a cell? What if he wasn’t conscious? Why were they even looking for him? Why risk nearly the entire resistance for one life? Jyra knew that Derek was the reason she managed to be part of the resistance in the first place and they needed to make every effort to save him.

“Nerves,” she muttered to herself. If everyone’s path wound up being as clear as hers, they shouldn’t have a problem. Jyra remembered what Macnelia had said about TF letting people go as the company became more secretive. Hopefully, they had cut back on the number of guards, too. Most of the TF security forces could be up in space fighting the Nilcyns.

Jyra passed white doors at each landing. She squinted at each gray information plate she encountered, but saw nothing about a detention facility. As Jyra rounded another corner, her gun hit the railing and the clanging note filled her ears. Her fingers fumbled with the holster. She pulled the firearm free and disengaged the safety. It seemed like a good idea to be on her guard, but the moment Jyra held the gun before her, she began sweating and quivering. She returned it to the holster and, when she looked up, saw the next door was the one to open.

The hallway beyond was just as eerie and silent as the rest of them. Unlike the passages above, more pipes and ducts had been routed against the ceiling and upon the walls. They gleamed in the lights, which seemed dimmer here. Jyra crept forward, unaware she was holding her breath. She expected guards to leap out from behind some of the wider ducts.

A warm trickling sensation glided down her arm under her topcoat sleeve. It took Jyra a moment to realize the blood from her wound had soaked through the bandage. She proceeded down the hallway and saw a large reinforced door ahead. Jyra broke into a delicate trot and reached the entrance to the detention area. She peered through the thick window mounted in the door. An empty desk sat in the left part of the room. A few scattered chairs occupied the right side. The cellblock extended deep into the wall opposite the door. She tried the button nearby, but the door didn’t open.

Jyra wondered if one of the lock crackers might work. Before she could check, the door leading out of the stairwell creaked. Jyra leapt behind a nearby duct as two enormous guards entered the hallway. They marched down the passage, absorbed in a murmured conversation. The guards paused in front of the door, which opened after one of them swiped a fob in front of a reader. Each guard wore a dull green uniform, a similar colored cap, and black combat boots. Jyra noticed the attire after staring at the size of the rifles each guard had slung over their back.

They entered the room and made straight for the cellblock. Seeing an opportunity, Jyra crept across the hallway. She passed through the doorway in a crouch and crawled behind the desk. Once she was in place, the door glided shut. Jyra removed her gun from her hip again and set it on the floor. Some of her blood dripped onto the linoleum beside her. The crash of metal on metal from the cellblock startled her.

“Attention!” one of the guards shouted. “Traitors are ordered to rise!”

Jyra realized the use of the plural, but her mind went blank as she heard the voice that replied.

“How dare you call me a traitor?” Sherlia said. “I’ve devoted my life to this company!”

Jyra felt another stab of fear and panic as her father spoke.

“Don’t,” he said. “You’ll make things worse.”

“It’s as worse as it’s going to get,” the guard said. “Transmitting classified data to a known enemy carries a severe penalty.”

Jyra heard her mother’s voice break.

“I’ve devoted my life to TF,” Sherlia said. “And it’s brought me nothing but woe. No enemy can be worse than this company. I’d have willingly given as much information as was necessary to see TF ruined by any means.”

“I stand with my wife,” Tadwin said. “Meanwhile you stand there, aiming guns at those who tried to free you and this planet from this oppressive corporation. TF killed our son and forced our daughter to flee. I doubt you’d have done different if you’d faced our circumstances.”

Jyra tried to stand, but her legs quaked under her weight. Her heart pounded as her parents’ words filled her ears.

The guard chuckled.

“Not if I knew this was coming,” he said.

The rifles cracked and Jyra felt something inside her break. Tears burned her eyelids as she heard the thuds of bodies hitting the floor.