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.

Part VIII: Mobilized and discouraged

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are they saying?” Jyra said.

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

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

Neeka finally looked away from the screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are we moving?” he said.

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you?” Jyra said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s a gap in her memory?”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        *

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tomato soup,” Shandra said.

“Never heard of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Berk said you were leader,” Jyra said.

“I suppose,” Macnelia said vaguely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad you think so,” she said.

                        *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does anyone aboard smoke?” Jyra asked.

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

“I’m serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m more than these thoughts.”

                        *

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

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

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

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

“Altitude?” Jyra said.

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

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

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

“It’s not safe!” Jyra said. “Go!”

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

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

Berk raised a thumb from his fist and nodded.

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

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

“Altitude?” she shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” Jyra said.

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

Part VII: Core work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How would that help?” Craig said gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        *

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

“What is it?” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Positive,” Berk said.

“We can’t know that,” Neeka said.

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

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

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

“Cut engines,” he said.

“What?” Jyra said.

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

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

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

Jyra leaned forward to switch off the engine thrusters.

“Cut,” she said.

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

“How’s progress?” Jyra said.

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

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

“Funny,” she murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning,” he said.

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

“Did I startle you or did the sparks?”

“Both.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the corrosion?”

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

“I can barely see it,” she said.

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

“How do you learn that?” Jyra said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drinking makes you forget,” Jyra said.

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

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

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

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

“You mean when someone travels between two planets?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thirty-seven,” he replied.

“But you were inventing in your home galaxy?”

Leonick nodded.

“What’s your favorite invention?”

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

“That you’ve built,” Jyra said.

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

“This,” he said.

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

“You invented energy cores?” Jyra said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” Jyra said.

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

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

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

“What’s going on?” Jyra asked.

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

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

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