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.”

Part XIV: Shields and cores

The ship shuddered gently under the women. Neeka looked up from the monitor at Macnelia and Jyra. They all exchanged smiles as the enormous engines came to life.

“Ready to link engine number one,” Neeka said into the earpiece.

“Initiate now,” Craig’s voice said.

“Coming online,” Neeka said. Several tense moments passed before she spoke again.

“Linked. Onto the second engine.”

It didn’t take long before all three engines were connected to the bridge and responding to the controls.

“We’re looking good here,” Craig reported.

“And here,” Neeka said.

Their voices were drowned as Macnelia lifted a com microphone to her lips and spoke.

“Attention throughout the ship, the engines are online.” Her voice echoed in every room.

“I could barely hear her over the noise down here, but I heard that,” Craig said and Neeka chuckled.

Macnelia smiled as she set the com down, but Jyra approached, grinning broadly.

“I have more good news,” she said. “You can tell them one of the storage bays in the stern is full of food and water.”

Macnelia shot a skeptical glance at Jyra and raised her eyebrows.

“Neeka, ask Craig if there are any crates of food aboard,” Jyra said.

Macnelia’s next ship-wide transmission revealed not only the presence of the food, but also where to find it.

                        *

Everyone reconvened in the main hangar beneath two of the enormous laser cannons. Leonick and Craig had collected some food and water from the storage bay on their way back from the engine room and after sharing mutual congratulations, the group exchanged talking for eating.

Jyra tore into a package of dried apples and gulped some clear water from a bottle. The food was second only to what she’d eaten on Drometica. Even though she knew of richer flavors and purer water, she couldn’t forget the substandard quality of each she’d grown up with on Tyrorken.

As she chewed, Jyra stared at the massive doors on either side of the hangar. For a moment, she wondered if maybe the atmospheric shield on the door that had been closed since their arrival might still work. Then she remembered both shields were powered by the same source.

She took another swig of water and nudged Craig on the shoulder.

“We need to find an electrical schematic for the shield power panel,” she said.

Craig had punctured the vacuum seal on a loaf of bread and just torn into the crust with his teeth. Unable to speak his reply for the moment, he shook his head. When he swallowed, he answered properly.

“I asked Neeka,” Craig said. “According to her, there’s no entry for it on the ship’s computer.”

Neeka looked up from a container of cold soup and nodded.

“I didn’t investigate why it wasn’t there, but I figured it would be something we could probably use to get the shield working again.”

“It would make the whole job easier,” Jyra said. “Do you think Jed could have erased it?” she added to Craig.

“Why would he?”

“Well,” Jyra began, frowning as she tried to see where her reasoning was taking her. “If something was wrong with the shield, the diagnostic computer compares the schematic to the actual device. If any operation between the two conflicts, the computer sends an alert to the bridge. What if Jed deleted the entire shield schematic and overrode the diagnostic processor to make sure no one found out about it?”

Craig took another bite of bread and pondered while he chewed.

“It’s certainly possible, but erasing the entire program and bypassing the computer would take a long time.”

“We don’t know how long he had to sabotage the ship,” Jyra said. “Causing the shield to fail could have been the first thing he did, maybe before it even took off. If that’s how he undermined the ship, then the actual defect to the shield operation system is probably pretty small. It had to be impossible for anyone aboard to find fast enough.”

“So where do we start?” Macnelia asked, setting her bottle of water aside.

“At the control box,” Craig said. “Maybe you and Neeka can find the schematic. I never knew Jed to be too great with computers and hopefully he just stuck the plans in some other location. It might be possible to hunt it down.”

“Can we enjoy our first meal in days first?” Shandra said, setting an empty box of crackers aside while reaching for a second.

“I’m not doing anything until I’m finished,” Berk grunted.

Jyra observed him out of the corner of her eye. Even with his bulky coat, he looked thinner. His beard and hair were as wild as ever, but his eyelids hung lower than usual. His flask hung in his left hand while he stuffed some sort of canned meat into his mouth with his right.

“We’ve got to finish with the laser cannons after we’re done,” Derek said, wincing as he shifted his wounded leg in order to better face the group.

“Careful,” Neeka said, setting her arm on Derek’s shoulder.

“I can turn myself around just fine,” he said shortly.

“How are you doing?” Macnelia asked.

“Fine,” Derek said, but his tone grew stiffer. “Couldn’t be better for someone who’s been shot in the leg.”

Jyra stopped eating, suddenly aware of how Derek must feel amid all activity, most of it beyond his physical capability with his wound. She recalled one of Dario’s friends had accidentally shot himself in the leg. Although the injury was said to be minor, it had taken more than six months to heal. Jyra wasn’t sure how much damage the bullet had done to Derek, but his inability to fully serve the resistance clearly irritated him. Where will the resistance be in half a year? Jyra wondered. Where will I be in half a year?

After the meal, Jyra and Craig made their way across the hangar to the shield control box. They removed the bent cover and after several minutes of studying the wiring, Craig pushed himself back from the wall, shaking his head.

“It looks normal,” he said. “Nothing’s cut or missing.”

“He likely wouldn’t have done anything in here,” Jyra said. “We just had to check.”

Craig wiped his brow before lifting the cover back into place.

“Let’s the check the box for the other door,” Jyra said as she drove the mounting screws in place.

“All right,” Craig said. He sounded skeptical.

“We have another circuit to use for comparison,” Jyra said.

“Hopefully they’ll just dig up the schematic,” Craig said, fighting off the urge to yawn.

“Until they do, other side of the hangar,” Jyra said.

                        *

“This is different.”

“How?”

“The wires here.”

“They’re just on the right instead of the left,” Craig said, staring into the control box for the second hangar door.

“Oh,” Jyra said, her excitement draining. She hated the feeling, but had often faced it while working in Jed’s garage. However much she might enjoy troubleshooting problems, the experience only gave her satisfaction if she solved the issue.

What if they couldn’t get to the bottom of the malfunctioning shield without the schematic?

Craig picked the cover up, but Jyra leaned forward suddenly, pushing a group of wires aside.

“What are these?” she said. “There were two wires entering the other box, but there’re four here.”

Craig set the cover back on the floor and examined the wires between Jyra’s fingers. They reached the conclusion at the same time.

“Of course,” they said together.

Their gaze traveled up to the top of the box, following the wires into their junction clips. One of the conductors had been pulled free.

“That’s it,” Jyra said. “That’s all he had to do.”

“Simple,” Craig said. “Sabotage the system on the opposite side of the hangar.”

“The shields share the same power source,” Jyra said. “I didn’t realize the lines for both sides of the hangar were routed through here.”

“No one figured it out fast enough either,” Craig said, reaching into the control box.

Carefully, he opened the clip and inserted the loose wire back inside it.

“Check it with the bridge,” Jyra said.

Craig jerked his head sideways to activate the earpiece.

“Macnelia or Neeka, update the shield status,” he said. “We may have solved it.”

“What?” Neeka replied.

“Update the atmospheric shield status.” Craig rolled his eyes and Jyra tightened her grip on the control box.

“We’ve got a reading!” Neeka yelled and Craig tore the earpiece free, cursing and holding his ear.

Jyra sank off her knees to lean against the wall, surrendering to a feeling similar to the one she’d experienced when she found the food in the storage bay.

Macnelia’s voice suddenly boomed over the com system, reporting the shield was back online.

Except for the two women on the bridge, everyone was in the middle of the hangar working on the laser cannons. Tools fell to the deck with a clatter and cheers erupted, the noise echoing through the cavernous room.

 Craig extended a hand and pulled Jyra to her feet. His eyes gleamed beneath his Mourning Mark. Jyra glanced at the charcoal smudge and gave Craig a small smile.

“Your parents would be proud,” she said. The light in Craig’s eyes faded but he didn’t look away.

“So would yours,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. His hand glided down her arm, avoiding the wound near her elbow.

Jyra was aware of the approaching footsteps and knew who it was before he started speaking.

“All right,” Berk said. “You’ve got the shield back up so come give us a hand with the cannons. They’re almost ready.”

                        *

Jyra opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light of her quarters on Mastranada. She pushed her hair out of her face and sat up. As she rubbed her eyes, the events before her nap came back to her. She and Craig had restored the atmospheric shield. Then they had helped the others mount and prep the laser cannons. Macnelia and Neeka returned from the bridge and suggested everyone get some sleep.

“Once the fighting begins, there’s no saying when we’ll be able to rest again.” Macnelia’s words filled Jyra’s head and she pulled on her clothes and wandered into the corridor. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, but as she drew closer to engine room, Jyra heard noises.

For a moment, she thought of the guard Berk had slain in the room, but she tried to focus on her fresh curiosity instead. She opened the door and discovered Leonick working at a panel on the wall.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” she asked.

“I do not sleep,” Leonick said. “Especially when I have as much on my mind as I do.”

“You always have a lot to think about,” Jyra said. “What is it now?”

“I am mostly preoccupied with fixing this ship.”

Jyra stared around the engine room and realized that since they crash-landed on Valiant Conductor II, she hadn’t heard or seen any effort to repair Mastranada.

“I think everyone thought overhauling the TF ship was more important,” Jyra said. Leonick dug a flask out of his pocket and took a mighty swig.

“Macnelia thought it was important,” he said, an uncharacteristic tone of bitterness entering his voice. “If something happened to the large ship, how would we escape? Until I get these new fuses in place, Mastranada cannot even power up.”

“Where did you get the fuses?” Jyra asked.

“From the TF ship. They were in a supply locker near the engine room. My point is, we have taken an awful risk staying aboard this ship, and we are about to take an even greater risk by firing on other vessels. I have not been able to convince Macnelia that repairing this ship is vital to our survival should something happen to the TF one during the fighting. I will not let this ship go down inside another.”

Jyra saw him glance at the energy cores behind him. She suddenly remembered the conversation she and Leonick shared in this very room before they bombed the TF complex. She learned Leonick had invented energy core technology. Jyra recalled they way he worked on them. She had never seen anyone approach a machine with such care and delicacy. TF had played a part in barring energy cores from becoming a standard fuel alternative for ships, which is what Jyra suspected motivated Leonick to join the resistance in the first place.

Jyra saw his point about using Mastranada to evacuate Valiant Conductor II in an emergency. It seemed odd Macnelia didn’t view fixing Mastranada as a priority. The odd conversation she recently overheard between Macnelia and Berk surfaced in Jyra’s mind. Macnelia hadn’t sounded like herself, but Berk had suggested she had been pushing herself too hard.

“Has Macnelia seemed different to you at all lately?” Jyra blurted before she could stop herself.

Leonick deftly pressed the fuses into their contacts and wiped his hands on his trousers.

“I cannot say,” he said. “If you are inquiring about her attitude toward repairing this ship, it does not matter because she should be ready to fly again.”

“All you had to do was replace the fuses?”

“There were other tasks,” Leonick said, snapping the panel cover in place. “Several power cables were shaken out of their couplings during landing. I also patched three ruptured air lines.”

He stared around the engine room and his eyes fell on the energy cores again. A look of reverence spread across his face and he laid on the hand on the closest one. Out of nowhere, Jyra realized Leonick’s expression reminded her of how her parents used to look at her and Dario.

“What is it?” she said, surprised that she had trouble speaking.

“These are the last energy cores I know of that actively power a ship,” Leonick said, before taking a long sip from his flask. “To see them and interact with them is a privilege I never expected to experience again. I understand machines and what they require to survive. Every machine I have made is part of me and I do what I can to nurture and support them. To meet again when I thought these cores lost has renewed my commitment to their survival.”

“You speak of them as though they are your children,” Jyra said. Leonick turned his gaze to her and nodded.

“In a way, they are,” he said. “And if we run into trouble during the coming assault, we are going to need them as much as they need me.”

He left the engine room and Jyra followed him into the corridor.

“Have you had any luck developing your time machine?” she whispered after him.

“I do not rely on luck,” he said shortly. “I rely on a systematic approach.”

“Well, have you started building the machine yet?” Jyra asked, still walking after him. Leonick paused and turned, drawing out his flask and unscrewing the cap.

“The first rule about designing a machine is knowing the environment in which it will function. In the case of the time machine, I am still searching for the correct environment.”

“You mean the galaxy parallel to this one in all ways except time?”

“Precisely, but the universe is a big place and I can only search it in small increments,” Leonick said, emptying his flask with a final gulp. “The parallel galaxy may not exist, but I would like to find out one way or the other. If the galaxy I am after is out there, then I will start building the time machine.”

Jyra already how she would answer the question residing on the tip of her tongue, but she had no idea how Leonick would respond.

“Once you build it, would you use it to change anything in your past?”

“I might,” Leonick mused. “But there is no sense thinking about it until the means to act on it are developed.”
His mouth curved into a grin as he entered his quarters and shut the door behind him. Jyra returned to her room and picked up her mother’s locket. She sat in the semidarkness, remembering how the jewelry hung on her mother’s neck. Jyra pulled the blanket over her and fell asleep, imagining what her counterpart might be up to in a parallel galaxy.

Part XIII: Somasteria

A few hours later, Jyra lay on her bed, turning her mother’s locket in her fingers. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Derek had said. It made her realize she hadn’t considered the sacrifices she might have to make to get to the bottom of Dario’s death.

Her life on Tyrorken had been one of perpetual hardship and struggle. It was hard to forget the nights when it was difficult to breathe because of the pollution. As she grew older, her parents spent more time at work. TF even consumed most of the time Jyra would have had with Dario. There was little to be excited about on Tyrorken besides her dream of becoming a pilot.

Jyra knew she couldn’t escape her past experiences, but she could move beyond them. She no longer lived on Tyrorken. It was her home planet, but it wasn’t her home.

Jyra sat up and set the locket on her bedside table. She dug a mirror out of her duffel and examined her reflection. Her dark eyes glittered at her beneath her equally dark hair, which hung past her shoulders. She gave herself a small smile, which disappeared when she noticed no trace of the Mourning Mark on her forehead. She touched the spot where it had been. As she lowered her arm, she caught sight of the cut near her elbow. It no longer pained her, but Jyra could tell a scar would remain; the skin around the wound glistened in the dim light.

It would likely shine for a few weeks just like the scar on the back of her hand. Jyra looked at the white line that began at the base of the knuckle of her index finger. The sight of the scar reminded her of Jed. She couldn’t think of him without considering his message.

Did he carry his grudge against TF into his career with the company? When did he decide to sabotage the ship? Did he act alone? The last thought opened a whole new path of inquiry. If others helped him, were they associated with the resistance?

Though she fought to resist it, the memory of her parents’ murder filled her mind. Just before the killing shots sounded, the guard had said information had been passed to a known enemy. Could that enemy have been the resistance? Tadwin had also said TF had killed Dario. Jyra clutched her head in her hands, straining to recall the details.

“How far does this go?” Jyra breathed aloud, unable to assemble the information into a coherent thought. How had all these different people come to turn against TF? Jed, Jyra’s parents and brother, and all the members of the resistance with Jyra on this ship had a common goal and somehow weren’t aware of it. After witnessing the TF agents’ assault on Derek, Jyra understood the need for secrecy had been of utmost importance. As she thought about it, however, the confidentiality had undermined the resistance more than protected it. If they all had been able to work together from the beginning, perhaps TF would have fallen long ago. Then again, the resistance could have suffered that exact same fate.

Jyra’s thoughts returned to Tadwin’s insistence that TF had killed Dario. He had said it with a conviction Jyra had never heard in her father’s voice. He was often soft-spoken and vague, never one to speak in absolutes.

Before she could consider the idea further, voices in the corridor distracted her. Jyra stood up as quietly as he could and pressed her ear to the door. Berk’s gruff tone was easy to identify, but it took several moments before Jyra recognized that a second, breathless voice belonged to Macnelia.

“Settle down and just tell me what’s wrong,” Berk said gently.

“I’m having a hard time,” Macnelia gasped. She sounded out of breath. “I…I’m not sure what my…our next move is.”

For a moment, all Jyra could hear was the sound of Macnelia taking deep breaths.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Berk said.

“No,” Macnelia said. “It’s not that. We’re adrift in more ways than one. I don’t know what happened back there, but the Nilcyns were already attacking. We need to understand why. And we’ve got to get this ship back online. It’s all we have to further our campaign.”

“What do you want to see happen?” Berk said. Silence followed his question and Jyra strained against her door, listening.

“I want to see Tyrorken restored,” she said. “I want to save that planet and drive TF into oblivion.”

“Well we’re off to a good start,” Berk said.

“And we have a long way to go,” Macnelia continued. She began to sound more like herself. “Taking out their headquarters doesn’t eliminate them. There’s still more to do.”

“Do you feel better?”

“I think so,” Macnelia said, her voice faded with footsteps as she and Berk continued down the corridor.

Jyra returned to her bed, thoughts of her parents and the resistance suspended as she pondered what might be troubling Macnelia.

                       *

After another shift of rest, the resistance resumed work on Valiant Conductor II. Leonick completed his inspection of the engines and insisted they were ready for power. Shandra instructed everyone how to check for damage to a ship’s hull from the inside. Then everyone split off and began assessing different parts of the enormous vessel.

Jyra ventured into the stern below the engine room, making her way toward the starboard hull. “Ships of the Kaosaam System” had indicated this part of the ship would likely consist of storage and power bunkers. An empty cargo bay lay behind the first door she entered off main corridor. The closed door gave her moment’s pause, until she saw the marks from Berk’s hammer that marred its left edge. Members of the resistance had already been through this part of the ship to check and fix the doors.

A number of crates were stacked in the next room, which was dark. Jyra flipped a switch on the wall and several lights clicked on. She began reading the packing labels on the crates, moving between them with mounting eagerness and urgency. “Crackers, bread, oats, rice, pasta” Jyra read aloud, her voice trembling with excitement. Another label listed dried fruit, nuts, and chips. One box contained jars of water.

“There must be fifty crates here,” she said, pressing her fingers into her hair. “This will last us for months.”

For the first time in a long time, a sense of relief spread through Jyra and she sat on one of the crates. The fortune of finding such a large supply of food overwhelmed her. She put her face in her hands, surrendering to her feelings. For a moment, she remembered the feeling of her bed on Tyrorken, the creases in the sheets and the weight of the blankets. She thought of the days before she fled her planet, when her brother and her parents were still alive. It suddenly seemed as though no time had passed since their deaths.

Jyra pushed her hair back and wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. She waited for the relief of discovering the crates to fade, but it remained fixed inside along with her sadness.

Jyra heard footsteps in corridor and stood up to find the label on the crate so she could pretend to be reading it.

“Oh,” Craig’s voice said from the doorway. “I’ve strayed into your part of the ship. What’s in the crates?”

Jyra did her best to keep her face hidden as she tested her voice, wondering if it would betray her emotions.

“Food,” she croaked. “There’s food and water here.”

“Are you kidding?” Craig said, rushing into the room and checking the first label he saw. “I can’t believe it.”

Jyra gave a jerking nod and Craig noticed something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked, the excitement draining from his words. He approached from behind and put a hand on Jyra’s shoulder.

She turned and pressed her face into his chest so that he couldn’t look at her. They put their arms around each other. One of Craig’s hands traced small circles on her back. Jyra focused on the sensation, managed to quell her tears, and she broke the embrace. She shuffled back to the pile of crates and sat down, staring at her hands in her lap.

“I’ve lost so much,” she said slowly. “For what? We destroyed a building, but TF ships are still out there. I thought the resistance would give me something I wanted.”

“What do you want?” Craig asked, joining her on the crate. Jyra glanced up into one of the lights, thinking.

“Vengeance,” she said dully.

“You don’t sound very convinced,” Craig said with a small smile.

“I know,” Jyra said. “I think it’s what I want, but I have no idea how to get it. When I heard about the plan to bomb TF headquarters, it seemed like the perfect solution. I thought it would satisfy me. But it didn’t and now I’m worried that whatever I want, I won’t be able to get it.”

“It sounds like you need to choose that first,” Craig said. “Once you’ve got a goal, you’ve got something to focus on and achieve. It doesn’t need to be related to the resistance.”

He stopped talking abruptly and stared at the floor. His eyes narrowed and his brow was furrowed. Jyra glanced at him and remembered the only other occasion when Craig had looked that way. It had been Jyra’s first day back at Jed’s Garage after getting stitches in her hand. Craig had arrived late and he wore that same expression when he entered the shop.

“You’re thinking about your goal, aren’t you?” she said gently and he nodded. “What do you want?”

Craig took a deep breath and drummed his fingers on his knees.

“I should start by reminding you of some advice I gave you once. After we got out of the TF complex, I told you not to regret things you didn’t do.”

Jyra recalled the exchange more vividly that she cared to, but she only nodded to encourage Craig to keep talking.

“We’ve both lost our parents to TF, but in different ways,” Craig said and Jyra felt her eyes grow wide with curiosity. “I haven’t done a very good job of taking my own advice. I know I did all I could to prevent my parents’ fate, but it’s easy to blame my efforts, because, obviously, they weren’t enough.”

“What happened to them?” Jyra said. Craig rarely discussed his parents and Jyra had never seen them.

“Have you ever heard of Somasteria?” Craig asked. Jyra shook her head.

“TF has gone to great lengths to keep the disease out of public knowledge. Once someone contracts the illness, TF quarantines them. If they or members of their household are caught discussing it, they are thrown in a medical facility. More of a jail really.”

“What causes it?”

“Somasteria is caused by several of the products TF uses for drilling. Excessive direct contact with skin leads to the early stages of the disease. It primarily attacks the blood, but eventually compromises the nervous system. There’s no cure, only symptom blockers, but within about two years, the victim is completely comatose.

“Both of my parents contracted the disease on a weeklong drilling mission. They weren’t even handling the solvents, but they were exposed to the fumes. Your susceptibility depends on the strength of your immune system.

 “The first symptoms weren’t very severe—lapses in memory and difficulty sleeping—but they got worse as time passed. They had trouble eating and drinking. Forming complete sentences became a challenge. They developed paranoia and night terrors. Even through all that, it wasn’t too hard to look after them, until they began to forget who I was. There was a two-week period where they asked my name each day. At the end of those two weeks, they stopped asking. Not long after that, they just stared straight ahead and never said another word.”

Craig pushed himself off the crate and crossed to the opposite wall. Jyra was too stunned to move. She couldn’t believe such a debilitating illness could be hidden from the public, let alone that it had affected someone so close to her. It sounded too horrible to be real. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have her parents gradually forget who she was. Craig’s ordeal seemed even worse because he had been there, watching it happen.

“I wanted to hide them,” he said, turning away from the wall. “I wanted to get them somewhere safe, but they were each in medical beds by the end. There was no way to move them on my own and when the TF doctors came, it was all over. My parents were transferred to the medical facility, beyond my reach.”

“Can’t we go after them?” Jyra said.

Craig gave a hollow laugh and shook his head.

“That brings me back to my point,” he said, pushing his hair off his bowed forehead. “I could try to rescue them. And what would happen if I did? Get myself injured or killed in the process. At the very least, I’d get a company of TF agents pursuing me. The way I figure, even I get out of there with my parents, it’s more of a risk than I care to take. They look at me but don’t see me. Even if they’re still alive, my parents have left their bodies. Sometimes it takes all I’ve got to fight back how I regret not being able to save them from TF. I can regret the things I did, because I could have prevented them. But it’s not worth going through the anguish and grief over things I didn’t do. Life’s hard enough without extra misery anyway.

“Let’s finish checking the hull,” he said after a brief pause. “Then we should head back to our ship.”

“All right,” Jyra said, but before we regroup with the others, we need to do something.”

After completing the inspection and finding no faults with the hull, Craig and Jyra made their way back to Mastranada. They bypassed the cargo bay, ignoring the chatter within.

Jyra entered her quarters and promptly began digging through her duffel while Craig lingered in the doorway. After moving Dario’s dagger and setting “Ships of the Kaosaam System” on the floor, Jyra found the small canister. She stood and beckoned Craig forward. He stood in front of her, eyeing the silver vessel in Jyra’s fingers.

“Close your eyes,” she said, unscrewing the lid.

She dipped two fingers into the charcoal powder and applied the Mourning Mark to Craig’s forehead. Some of the black dust fell into Craig’s eyebrows and eyelashes, disappearing immediately.

Jyra screwed the lid back on the canister and gripped Craig’s arm. He opened his eyes and a let out a deep breath. Jyra extended her fingers again and pressed the Mark and Craig blinked before pulling her into another embrace.

“Thank you,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“You’re welcome,” Jyra replied. “May you carry their memory with you forever.”

“And you,” Craig said.

                        *

“Well?” Macnelia asked when Craig and Jyra stepped into the cargo bay.

“The hull’s solid,” Craig said.

“In that case, I suggest we prepare to power up the engines,” Leonick said. Berk gulped his whiskey and passed the flask to Leonick.

“Right, let’s get to it,” Macnelia said. “It’s time we had little control over our direction. What do we do first, Leonick?”

“If you mean in order to start the engines, we need to calibrate them and bring each one online and link them to the bridge.”

“Jyra, can you help Neeka and me forge the link from the bridge?” Macnelia asked.

 “Of course,” Jyra said.

“Leonick, why don’t you take Craig to assist in the engine room?”

“I cannot think of reason, so come along,” Leonick said, motioning to Craig.

“The rest of you will work with Berk in the main hangar,” Macnelia said.

“What are we doing?” Shandra asked.

“Getting the auxiliary laser cannons mounted in place,” Macnelia answered. “Once we fix the shield drive, we’ll start hunting down the remaining TF ships.”