Jyra awoke and Ships of the Kaosaam System slid off her chest. It took her several moments to remember the trial period had ended yesterday. It also meant two weeks had passed since Serana left the base. Jyra was now a bonafide mobile commander of the Allied Resistance. She said the title to herself as she tugged on a pair of gray slacks, part of her new uniform. She had never seen Serana wear anything like it, probably because she had the influence to refuse such clothing.
The responsibilities of Jyra’s new post diminished the appeal of her quarters. Stacks of intelligence reports and security briefs littered the desk. Uniforms from the previous week were scattered on the floor; Jyra usually returned to her room late at night, barely able to prepare for bed before tumbling onto the mattress. Last night had been a rare occasion when she was able to read a few pages of her favorite (and only) book.
A refurbished hospital transport in Hangar F awaited Jyra’s inspection this morning. The appointment forced Kip into Jyra’s mind, because she first saw him in a hangar while inspecting a damaged ship with Serana. She hadn’t even talked to him since the night she killed Graze. Once she finished the inspection, Jyra had to report to a meeting in central command to review a new stream of intelligence reports. That meeting alone could last several hours. Maybe tonight she would have time to find Kip.
Jyra finished adjusting the cuffs on her sleeves and stepped through her door, a file on the ship tucked under her arm. The corridors were as packed as ever, but something had changed since Serana left the base. Or maybe it was that Jyra now knew that spies were roaming the base with impunity. When she first arrived, Jyra assumed everyone she saw was working toward a common goal. Even if the spies weren’t present, she couldn’t believe that now. The donors, the chief financial backers of the resistance, were the reason for Serana’s demotion. The rumors circulating in central command were the donors wanted to get their loved ones rescued from the hospitals, but they didn’t seem at all worried about undermining the entire resistance to do it. Jyra hadn’t met with them officially yet. She hoped the rumors were little more than lofty exaggeration.
Jyra noticed immediately upon entering that Hangar F was smaller than most of the others in the base. The steel floor looked like all the rest, shined and polished, but gaps in the wall plating revealed compacted dirt along the right and left sides. The transport looked similar to Emarand Liberation, a ship Jyra helped repair to escape enemy scouts, but both she and Kip were captured by the Allied Hospital forces on that mission.
The hull of the new vessel gleamed under the bright hangar floodlights. Jyra gazed down the ship’s port side before approaching a group of ten resistance members gathered beneath the bow. She recognized a few faces but couldn’t match any to the maelstrom of names circling in her head.
“I don’t see much need to inspect something in such great condition,” she said with an uneasy grin, but she saw the smile reflected by some. “Is the chief of the repair crew present?”
The group shifted and a man in grubby overalls stepped forward. He hooked his grease-stained hands around the straps of his overalls and spoke with a surprisingly soft tone, his eyes cast down apologetically.
“The crew has already been summoned to another job,” he said. “They assigned me to be here if you have any questions.”
Jyra pulled the file out and scanned the list of completed repairs, but she was really thinking how to proceed.
“Did you have any role in refurbishing this ship?” she asked, without looking up.
“I did not, I’m afraid,” he said.
“Then I’m afraid this is a waste of everyone’s time,” Jyra said. “I was joking when I came in, of course. Inspections are a serious matter and if something goes wrong when this ship starts up, we need the repair team here.”
“This is as standard as an inspection gets,” a woman said. “This ship has already completed a trial flight.”
“Sorry,” Jyra interrupted. “Who are you?”
“Charis Biggs, traffic coordinator,” the woman replied.
“I know we are all anxious to get this ship into service, and although I’m the one who signs off the inspection, we are all witnesses to the proper function of this vessel,” Jyra said, with a lingering glance at Charis. Something about her name seemed familiar, but the pressure of the circumstances allowed Jyra no time to ponder a possible association.
“I’m with Charis on this one,” another man said. “I watched the trial. The ship is ready.”
Jyra saw all the heads before her bobbing in agreement. She caught herself picking the edge of the file and thinking about Kip. This might go faster than she initially thought, which could free up time to seek out her friend.
“All right,” she relented. “I’ll do a quick walk around. If all looks good, the pilot–” a third man with dark eyes and a mustache made a brief gesture–“can fire it up.”
Jyra set off immediately. She hated being challenged in front of a group like that. If this is how all inspections were performed, Jyra wondered how many resistance ships crashed because of equipment malfunction. Jyra ran her hand over one engine as she rounded the stern. The metal beneath her fingertips was cold but the new paint job was smooth and immaculate.
After completing her circle of the ship, she sent the pilot to the cockpit and everyone moved back toward the rear wall.
The engines howled to life. Jyra saw the pilot raising his thumb to her when the ship lurched forward followed by an explosion that shook compacted dirt loose from the hangar wall. Flares of fire erupted at the stern. Several people behind Jyra screamed. The pilot disappeared from view. Jyra unconsciously held her breath, waiting for him to emerge from the ship.
“Fuel lines!” he yelled, leaping from the cargo bay. “Computer says there’s a leak!”
Jyra dropped the file and ran at the ship. She hadn’t traveled more than ten feet before she skidded to a halt as a fireball blew out the starboard engine. The explosion kicked the ship forward, which slammed the pilot to the hangar deck, flicking him aside like an insect.
“Come on!” Jyra beckoned to the group. “I can’t save the ship by myself!” Though I wouldn’t have to if the actual repair team were here, she added in her thoughts. She realized more than half the group had fled the hangar; the others made their way toward her, eyeing the leaping flames and smoke rising from the opposite side of the hull.
“What do we do?” Charis yelled over the din of the engines and fire.
Jyra saw the pilot stirring, crawling dazed and disoriented away from the ship.
“You two, see to him,” Jyra said, pointing at Charis and the man who had seconded the idea to expedite the inspection.
“The rest of you get the firehose off the opposite wall. Kill the fire on the engine,” Jyra added.
“What are you going to do?” the mechanic asked.
“I need to shut the ship down,” Jyra replied, breaking into a run. “Go!”
Smoke drifted out of the open cargo door by the time Jyra leapt inside. She peered through the gathering haze and spied a door on the opposite wall. Fighting the urge to inhale, Jyra sprinted across the cargo hold and pushed into a smoke-choked corridor. Jyra took a short breath and gagged on the acrid stench. She felt her way along the wall, squinting against the stinging fumes. Up a narrow staircase and down another short passage, the ship seemed to go on forever.
By the time Jyra reached the cockpit, a coughing fit overwhelmed her and she collapsed in the pilot seat, scanning the console for engine controls through watery eyes. She glanced to the left and immediately saw the throttles locked in starting position. Jyra tugged them back and fell to the floor, taking short breaths. The chill of the metal on her palms reminded her of Mastranada and the first resistance. She thought of Kip and how she told him about the movement she hoped to start. She felt her knees sliding as she slumped on the floor.
Jyra jerked her head up into the coiling blanket of smoke. She coughed and made to dodge the spoiled air but it was no longer possible. She pulled herself upright and charged out of the cockpit, trying to focus on the egress path. Jyra took the stairs too quickly and fell from the last several risers. A coughing fit waylaid her on the floor. As she drew a recovering breath, Jyra tasted smoke and, gasping, she crawled down the hallway, longing to see the cargo hold entrance.
Her hands throbbed and her knees thudded dully against the floor. Jyra veered toward the right wall, knowing the door she sought was on that side. I can’t miss it, she kept telling herself. By the time she reached the door, Jyra had dropped to her belly to stay as far from the smoke as possible. She reached into it to open the door and lurched into the cargo bay, sweating and shaking. Jyra tugged herself to her feet and staggered toward the exterior of the ship, visible at last. Smoke poured after her, but very little had managed to penetrate the cargo bay sooner. Jyra leapt onto the hangar deck and managed to take several more steps before sinking to her knees.
Two pairs of hands took Jyra under each arm and bore her toward the exit. As the unknown people set her down just outside the hangar against the wall, Jyra felt the words in her dry mouth.
“Always inspect,” she said.
*
Several hours later found Jyra in a medical unit. Her throat felt smoother than usual, but the pain in her chest had vanished along with the taste of smoke. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a freshly laundered uniform hanging on the wall. A sigh came from the other side of the recovery room, catching Jyra’s attention. The figure slumped in a skeletal chair, but sat up at the sign of movement from the bed.
“Jyra?” he asked.
She couldn’t have been more thrilled to hear Kip’s voice.
“Thanks for coming,” she said.
The chair creaked and Kip’s footsteps grew closer. Jyra looked up and saw his wearied face. How long had he been here? How long had she been here?
“Did you hear what happened?” Jyra asked.
“Only that you were in treatment,” Kip said. “I didn’t want to ask too many questions.”
Jyra shook her head in an effort to establish complete consciousness.
“I know,” she said. “Ever since Serana went into the field, things have changed, much more than her absence should warrant.”
“I’ve been put back on the salvage line,” Kip said. “I mean, I know that’s where my experience is at but I hoped that maybe I could put it behind me.”
He fell silent and stood awkwardly at the bedside, his hands fastened to the rail. Jyra wished he would continue.
“Why am I even complaining? What happened to you?” he asked.
Jyra told him about the ship and the faulty engine. Like her, Kip found the behavior of the group the more intriguing part of the story.
“So, first of all the designated repair team was absent and the inspection went ahead anyway?” he said. “Then the engine blows and the pilot left the ship powered up? None of that makes any sense.”
“And the claim that the ship flew just fine on its trial,” Jyra added.
“The whole thing is weird,” Kip said. “Was it some kind of test? I mean besides the inspection? Do you think the donors might have been setting you up?”
“Setting me up or trying to kill me,” Jyra said.
“That might be the last thing they ever try.”
“What do you mean?”
Kip drummed his fingers on the bedrail, glancing at Jyra out of the corner of his eye, but she maintained her vacant expression.
“Sorry,” he said. “You didn’t get it.”
The moment he said it, Jyra caught on.
“Thanks for reminding me of that,” she said, not sure if she should sound disgruntled or nonchalant of her accidental slaying of an enemy.
“You haven’t–” Kip lowered his voice despite the closed door “–you haven’t done anything like that since, have you?”
“Of course not,” Jyra said, though she wondered if the muscle stimulant had assisted her in apprehending Meriax. “I haven’t tested it or anything. I’d just rather not know.”
“Well it’s not exactly going away is it?” Kip asked.
“Why does it matter?”
“Security. Leverage.”
“What do you mean?” Jyra asked.
“When they come after you, the donors. When, not if,” Kip said. “We’re both close to Serana and when they get impatient enough, the donors will try to coerce us into initiating a mission.”
“What are you talking about?” Jyra asked.
“The donors getting their families back,” Kip said pushing back from the bed and beginning to pace. “They are moving to supplant the resistance, targeting leadership and positions of power.”
“How do you know this?” Jyra asked.
“Serana’s father,” Kip said. “I’ve been receiving his clandestine communication.”
“I haven’t,” Jyra said.
“It’s to minimize risk,” Kip said. “Spread the flow of information so one person can’t be targeted if the intelligence falls into the wrong hands.”
Jyra shook her head and felt the soreness in her neck, likely from coughing on smoke.
“Has the resistance always been this fractured?” she asked, thinking of both the old and new corridors and the hangars. How could an organization so fragile construct such a vast and intricate base?
“It’s been getting worse,” Kip said.
“Do you think it has anything to do with the spies in the base?”
“It certainly could,” Kip said. “Are you trying to give me a hint?”
Jyra realized that she was, though not intentionally.
“You don’t know,” she said distantly, which only led Kip further astray.
“Sorry,” Jyra said. “Serana said there’s a whole network of hospital spies working in the base. The resistance knows about it, but looks the other way since it keeps the spies complacent so they don’t try to escape.”
“That’s some creative logic,” Kip said, raising his eyebrows. “Graze was my boss and I didn’t even know it. They don’t seem to have any trouble assimilating.”
“I don’t know how many there are, but apparently they played a part in sabotaging the mission to free us from the Allied Hospitals,” Jyra said.
Kip stopped pacing and Jyra watched his eyes grow wide with disbelief.
“Serana knew these spies were in the base and she did nothing?” he asked, as though he had somehow misheard the revelation. Jyra only nodded.
“I don’t even know what to think,” Kip said, beginning to the circle the room again. “I get that it’s easier to just let traitors into the base, but certainly there are protocols in place to keep them from interfering with missions?”
“And what would you do to stop them?” Jyra asked. “Round them up and execute them?”
“First I want to know if you and I are on the same page,” Kip said, fighting to keep his voice steady. He returned to his chair and clasped his hands in front of him. “Do you agree it’s a bad idea to allow hospital spies to move freely through the base?”
“I do,” Jyra said, unsettled by the sudden onset of Kip’s suspicion. “But how could we eradicate all the spies? The moment we try to capture one, the rest will move into the shadows. You just mentioned how quickly they assimilate.”
“Okay we don’t round them up necessarily,” Kip said. “But once we identify a spy, we take punitive measures. We can’t just let them keep plotting against the resistance.”
“Then we agree on that too,” Jyra said. “They must face justice of some kind.”
Kip nodded and sat back in his chair. Jyra considered what she just said and then another idea occurred to her.
“You said ‘when not if’ the donors come for me,” Jyra said. “What if I use my new role to start a campaign to identify and punish the spies in the base? How could the donors not support it? Part of the reason their family members are in captivity is because of the interference the spies created in the base.”
“It could work,” Kip said after a moment. “Playing up the spy sabotage could draw attention away from Serana’s shortcomings. Making yourself more visible like that concerns me a little, but I suppose it’s a necessary risk.”
Jyra leaned back on her pillows, a thoughtful finger pressed to her chin.
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know,” Kip said. “The donors seem to be getting more and more extreme. I think they wanted Serana kicked out of the resistance completely and they see Jarrow’s maneuver with his daughter as a low blow, a personal insult. Our association isn’t lost on them either.”
Jyra didn’t want to divert the conversation since it was important and she didn’t know when she might see Kip again, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Are you concerned for me in general or because you kissed me on the hangar deck?”
Kip shifted in his chair and frowned for a moment.
“I’m concerned for your safety but since you had to force your curiosity into an otherwise unrelated question, I suspect there’s something you’ve been wanting to discuss with me.”
“It’s all related,” Jyra said, injecting a hint of indignation into her words. “If you don’t care about me then why are you here?”
“I do care about you,” Kip said. “And a lot had just happened leading up to that encounter. I’d had plenty to drink and just got carried away. Sorry,” he added, glancing at the door and rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t mean to mislead.”
Jyra couldn’t help but smile.
“There’s no reason to apologize,” she said. “I told you then that I didn’t mind and I still don’t. I just hoped it didn’t worry you at all. In case you were wondering, I thought it was a fine moment and I was glad I got to share it with you.”
“Me too,” Kip said, a little too eagerly. “I wasn’t something I thought about, but I’m glad it happened,” he said with a more reserved tone, but he stared at the floor the whole time.
Jyra felt like she could breathe easier in a way that had nothing to do with her smoke inhalation recovery. She didn’t realize how long she had been waiting to talk to Kip about the night on the edge of the hangar deck.
“So far it seems all we’ve disagreed about is the idea that I propose punishing hospital spies within the base,” Jyra said.
“Well I’m just a guy on the salvage line,” Kip said. “I’m sure you can look after yourself, I mean, I know you can. See what you can do about the spies and maybe it will gain you some trust from the donors.”
“Before any of that can happen, I need to know how much longer I’ll be trapped in here,” Jyra said.
“Any ideas where you’ll start on this endeavor?” Kip asked.
“No,” Jyra said, but almost immediately corrected herself. “Wait, I do. Meriax, a confirmed hospital spy, is currently locked in a holding cell. I’ll speak with her first.”
*
The corridor that led to the holding cells reminded Jyra of the original tunnels she had navigated with Serana. It was narrower and much colder than the main passages. Clumps of dirt littered the floor having cracked free of the walls. Jyra coughed several times during the descent in the sloping tunnel. Though the doctor had cleared her to leave, Jyra’s lungs and the back of her throat still felt scratchy. At last, Jyra rounded a bend and faced an iron gate lit by a solitary lamp mounted on the ceiling.
The gatekeeper, an elderly man, sat on the other side of the barrier. His mouth was thin and his wrinkled forehead seemed perpetually pinched, giving him an overly-severe expression. He rose from his stool as Jyra approached and placed his hands on his hips.
“Here to see the prisoner?” he asked gruffly.
“Meriax,” Jyra said. “She’s the only one?”
The gatekeeper nodded as he produced a cluster of keys and fit the appropriate one into the lock. He gave a firm tug on the gate and it squealed open; the hinges were nearly fused in place by rust.
Jyra slipped inside the cell block and the gatekeeper forced the gate closed.
“How many cells are down here?” she asked.
“Twenty-five,” the gatekeeper replied, leading the way. The tunnel appeared much as it had during the long trek to the gate, except cell doors now stood on either side, like metallic sentries. The gatekeeper stopped abruptly and pulled out his keys again. He yanked the door open and gestured for Jyra to enter.
She walked inside and saw someone in the cell next to hers. A row of bars separated her from the prisoner.
“I’ll see you when I’m ready to leave,” Jyra said, as a means to excuse the gatekeeper.
“You’ll have to,” he answered before shuffling off.
Jyra seated herself on a cot and faced Meriax who lay with her back turned. Jyra thought about what she might say to get the prisoner’s attention, but there was no need. Meriax sat up in one fluid motion and crossed to the bars separating her from Jyra. Her blue eyes were as piercing as ever, despite the gloom. Her blond hair had become more tangled. The garments she wore, however, bothered Jyra more than anything else about her appearance. Meriax had been clad in two wide bands of dark metal, locked around her chest and hips. Jyra couldn’t understand how Meriax managed to stay warm.
“What are you doing here?” Meriax asked. Her tone wasn’t unfriendly or aggressive. It took Jyra a moment to remember that was just the way she spoke. Even when Serana had interrogated her, Meriax had remained passive, almost disengaged, with the proceedings.
Jyra had thought about how to begin the dialogue during the entire descent to the holding cells. Her time might have been better spent mentally reviewing details of the latest intelligence reports, because no words came to her now.
“Silence is fine too,” Meriax said. “I’m used to it by now.”
Jyra tried to make eye contact, but she couldn’t stare at the prisoner without blinking. Meriax held her position at the bars.
Why are you letting someone so powerless stop you? Jyra thought furiously. If she didn’t say something soon, this whole errand would be a wasted. She caught sight of the steel band secured around Meriax’s waist and felt her gut clench. She seized on the feeling, realizing she could use it.
“I came to apologize,” Jyra said, maintaining her lowered gaze.
“I’d ask you for what, but I don’t care,” Meriax said, with the same air of indifference. “Words won’t do much for me.”
“The right ones could,” Jyra said. “And I am sorry that you’ve been forced to wear that metal. I’ll see that you receive some proper garments.”
“On what condition?” Meriax asked.
“No conditions and no ulterior motives,” Jyra said. “You deserve to keep your dignity and I to keep mine. Neither is possible when you have been shackled as such.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a humanitarian,” Meriax said, swinging one foot behind the opposite ankle. “How did someone like you get clearance to speak to me?”
She’s trying to throw me off, Jyra thought. A compliment followed by insulting my position.
“I’m attempting the impossible, I confess it,” Jyra said. “Serving as a leader while clinging to morality.”
“Now I know this is a game,” Meriax said. “You didn’t come down here just to order an apparel upgrade for me. You need information.”
Jyra finally fixed her gaze on Meriax. She could hear the gears turning inside her own head. Meriax had given her an opening. It would cut the meeting short, but make it anything but a waste.
“Actually your apparel is all that troubled me,” Jyra said. “I’ll get something more comfortable down here right away. Until next time.”
She stood up and swept out of the cell before Meriax could say another word. Jyra wished she had been able to interview the prisoner about other spies in the base, but it could wait. Besides, she had sent a strong message to Meriax by actually saying very little.
We’ll see how long she thinks silence is fine, Jyra thought as she approached the gate.
“See that the prisoner is fitted with proper garments as soon as possible,” she told the gatekeeper. “I don’t want her in that steel any longer.”
*
Jyra emerged from the holding cell passage into a main corridor and tried as casually as she could to lean against the wall. The doctor had warned her that overexertion could lead to shortness of breath for the next few days. She straightened up and saw a woman walking toward her. She clearly wasn’t associated with the other masses streaming through the corridor. The woman had bound her hair back in a tight bun and it stretched her forehead upward as well. Her eyes were bright and her thin lips spread into smile. She wore the central command uniform and as she neared Jyra, she nearly broke into a run.
“I’m sorry we haven’t met sooner,” she said, almost too excited to speak. “I’m Dania Verral. You saved my brother from the hospital.”
“Oh,” Jyra said, still trying to regain her breath. “That’s right. Tony.”
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” Dania said. “They thought he’d been killed. Nothing was worse than hearing his name among the fallen.”
“I’m glad we were able to rescue him,” Jyra said. She meant it sincerely but hated how awkward it sounded.
“Well there’s more good news too,” Dania said. “I came to inform you that you’ll be recognized for your heroism yesterday.”
Jyra said nothing but realized her face must have gone blank.
“Shutting down the ship before the fuel tanks lit up,” Dania said, with an encouraging smile.
“Yes,” Jyra said. “I was only trying to avert a catastrophe.”
“And so you did and risked your life to do so,” Dania said. “You’ll be pleased to know Jenkins made a full recovery.”
“Who?” Jyra asked.
“The pilot,” Dania said, failing to hide her surprise.
“Sorry, I’m still shaken from the incident I suspect,” Jyra said. “That ship could have crushed him. I’m relieved he’s okay.”
Jyra’s mind raced as she sought to end the uncomfortable silence.
“What sort of recognition are we talking about and when is it happening?” she asked.
“It’s happening when we reach the central command control room,” Dania said. “A ceremony with the other commanders.”
“Now?” Jyra asked and Dania nodded.
Jyra had intended to call a meeting with the donors. Each passing day that she didn’t engage them felt like a failure. And while Meriax felt indifferent to silence, it certainly bothered the donors and Jyra didn’t wish to alienate them.
There was nothing to be done about it now. Dania took Jyra by the arm long enough to steer her into the crowd. They cut to the right into a corridor after ten minutes and climbed several staircases. By the time they paused outside the entrance to the control room, Jyra was nearly out of breath again.
“Are you all right?” Dania asked. The genuine concern clashed with her severe expression, but Jyra only nodded in reply.
Once Jyra recovered, they walked inside. Heads swiveled to the door and everyone broke into applause. The reception surprised Jyra so much that she realized she was only half-smiling, which she assumed must look like a partial smirk. She raised her palms and and lowered her gaze, but almost immediately had to reverse the humble gesture as a woman stepped forward and pinned a small medal on the lapel of Jyra’s uniform and the room went quiet.
“I, Commander Hayes, on this day honor you with the Medal of Courage for your act of heroism and great personal risk you undertook to save the lives of others as well as the infrastructure of this base,” Hayes said, stepping back and offering her hand, which Jyra shook. “Congratulations and thank you for your bravery and leadership.”
Everyone applauded again and Jyra, this time, gave a full smile. It seemed odd that such a ceremony would take place in the control room. The location was no stranger to the extreme moments of delight and despair, but Jyra wondered if any important information might be flashing across the temporarily neglected posts. Commander Hayes made to retreat but Jyra made a hasty approach. Hayes was solidly built with thick arms and wide shoulders. Her mass of wiry red hair stood upright like tongues of flame. She wore a kind smile that softened her otherwise intimidating gaze.
“Commander Hayes, thank you for this honor,” Jyra said, indicating the medal. “If you have a moment, I’d like to discuss the presence of hospital spies in our base.”
“Of course,” Hayes said. “We’ll be a moment,” she added to Dania who gave a brief smile before retreating to the door and standing beside it like a guard.
Jyra followed Hayes to her desk. It sat near the center of the room, surrounded by other desks and consoles. Everyone else had returned to their seats by the time Hayes and Jyra took theirs.
“I assume you refer to the spies roaming freely in the base?” Hayes said in a low voice.
“As far as I know, we have plenty of enemy spies moving unchecked and only one who is imprisoned,” Jyra said. “I’m wondering what your thoughts are on an attempt to round them up. They helped sabotage the mission to free me from the hospital.”
“There’s no doubt they are a nuisance and have caused problems,” Hayes agreed. “But what are you proposing? Background checks on every resistance member? That will take time and the spies will certainly hear about it far enough in advance to cheat it somehow. Word would spread through their network.”
Jyra sat back in her chair. She glanced at the surrounding screens. Her eyes lingered on one in particular with a grid representing the plot of the radarscope. Two blue dots blinked in time with each other within the grid. Looking back on it, Jyra assumed the color reminded her of Meriax’s eyes, but she had no idea how she made the mental leap back to the database of TF officers she saw on Valiant Conductor II. However it happened, Jyra put the two together and listened to herself speak an idea before she barely comprehended it.
“The spies all come from the hospitals, which means there must be a database of them,” Jyra said. “If we can find that database, we can likely get snapshots of faces and track them down ourselves.”
“How do you propose finding such a database if it even exists?” Hayes asked.
“I need to interview our prisoner further,” Jyra said.
Hayes retreated into a brief thoughtful silence before sitting up again and turning back to her computer.
“Sounds worth trying, though that database is likely located in one of the hospitals itself,” she said. “I’ve got a list of mission candidates prepared and you are more than welcome to it if you wish. Also we’ll reschedule the meeting to go over intelligence reports.”
“Thank you,” Jyra said. “I’ll keep all that in mind.”
Hayes nodded to acknowledge their parting and Jyra made for the exit, excited that something might be going right for once.
“Do you need my assistance with anything else?” Dania asked as the door closed behind them. Jyra paused and felt her eyebrows elevate on her forehead. She understood what she meant to Dania for rescuing her brother, but she couldn’t help wondering if Dania had something better to do than trail after her.
“It’s my day off,” Dania said shortly, reading Jyra’s expression, who quickly initiated several coughs to give herself time to think.
“Actually, if you want to accompany me to a meeting with the donors, I would appreciate it very much,” Jyra said and they set off.
“What time does it start?” Dania asked.
“No idea yet,” Jyra said. “We have to set it up.”
*
Jyra assumed Dania would be far more adept than her when it came to arranging a meeting and she was right. They settled at Dania’s desk in the main cavern, composed a short message, and sent it to the donor families. The excitement from central command had worn off. Dania had been chattering away about the meeting but Jyra had stopped listening soon after realizing that she would speak to the donors in the same conference room where Serana had alienated them.
She was nervous enough just thinking about coming face to face with such a powerful and sensitive group of people. The idea of meeting them for the first time with short notice in the place where Serana met her downfall seemed like a mistake. She couldn’t help but think of Kip’s warning about the donors coming after her, but that was one of the reasons she had Dania with her. Some loyal company might help to prevent a major altercation.
The idea of hacking a hospital spy database had been easy to talk about following the ceremony. The notion seemed even more underdeveloped when Jyra considered the first step required getting information from Meriax. She could only hope that the proper clothes and suspense in the darkness would make the prisoner willing to negotiate. If the database existed, that would prompt another mission to infiltrate the hospitals and with the enemy’s heightened security, it wouldn’t be easy. Jyra related all this to Dania who continued typing on her computer, nodding to acknowledge the concerns.
“Maybe you could tell the donors that the strike team would take every opportunity to locate and free their family members,” Dania said. “Give them some incentive to back the mission.”
Jyra swore that if she hadn’t been worrying so much, she would have thought of that, but Dania hadn’t finished.
“For that matter, we didn’t say explicitly what we’re meeting about,” Dania said. “Get a read on the room first. If the time is right to bring up the plan, do it. If not, wait. Explain you just want to meet them and that ought to feed their egos.”
“Or they’ll complain that I’m wasting their time,” Jyra said.
“That’s possible, but that’s on them,” Dania said. “They’re replying,” she added. “Ten so far. I suppose we should head over there and wait.”
Jyra wanted to spend as little time as possible in the conference room.
“Should I bring anything?” she asked, stalling. “Can you get me the latest intelligence reports? Maybe there’s something in there to support a potential mission.”
“I’ll pull them up,” Dania said. “There should be a larger report coming in about half an hour.”
They reviewed the reports for ten minutes but saw little that would justify attempting to enter hospitals again.
“Nothing relevant,” Dania said, straightening up and slapping the report on the desk. “Time to go.”
Reluctantly, Jyra followed. Despite the size of the enormous cavern, it took much longer than Jyra would have expected to reach the conference room. The tables were still arranged in a U formation. Jyra wasn’t sure if she imagined the sudden drop in temperature when she stepped over the threshold. Dania made a quick count of chairs.
“Plenty here,” she said. “Do you need my assistance with anything else?” Dania asked.
An escape plan, Jyra thought desperately. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Dania, too, fell silent as she took a seat near the door.
Minutes passed. Jyra fidgeted with her medal. She was about to ask Dania what they should do when the door opened. The donors entered single file and circled around the arranged tables. It occurred to Jyra they must be used to meeting in here and, by the looks of it, they assembled outside the door to make a more impressive entrance.
One look at the crowd made it quite clear these people were donors with plenty of money to spare. The men were all clad in suits of heavy cloth in darker shades that ranged from gray to black. Some wore ascots and others sported ties. Some of the boys Jyra suspected were teenagers seemed casually dressed in slacks and blazers when compared to the elders of the group. The women and girls, however, wore immaculate dresses and gowns. They all looked as if they were en route to some intergalactic party with dancing and catered meals, likely featuring exotic meat and fruit.
Jyra didn’t know how she had never seen any of them in the base before. They must dress like this often; they certainly didn’t have time to prepare these outfits for the meeting. As they took their seats, Jyra noticed they left gaps here and there. At first she thought they were splitting up along family lines, which was true, but then she realized they were leaving empty chairs on purpose that must represent those who were captured. Jyra decided it would be best not to make any mention of the gesture.
Two women came through the door toward the end of the procession. Apparently, the donors didn’t dress formally all the time. Though both of the women wore dresses, Jyra recognized one of them immediately. Despite the makeup and elaborate elevated braid, it was still Charis Biggs the traffic coordinator who had insisted the ship inspection proceed despite Jyra’s misgivings. She didn’t have any time approach Charis, because the door swung shut and all eyes were on Jyra, who cleared her throat.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” she said, placing a hand to her neck. “I’m afraid I’m still recovering from the smoke inhalation.”
Of course her throat hadn’t been bothering her at that moment, but she was able to take a quick read of the faces assembled before her. Perhaps a couple expressions of fleeting concern, but nearly everyone maintained their steady stare. One woman had glanced at her watch.
“I apologize for not calling this meeting sooner and I hope you’ll forgive the short notice,” Jyra said. She hoped a few demonstrations of vulnerability might make an impressive contrast to her bold plan. At the very least, it should help keep the donors off balance. Jyra’s brief pause, however, was all they needed.
“I trust you didn’t call us all here just to meet you,” a woman said, her voice tinged with disdain. Jyra glanced around the tables and realized it was the woman sitting next to Charis.
“I didn’t, but I’m Commander Jyra Kyzen and what’s your name?” Jyra asked.
“Crina Biggs, wife of Terrence Biggs who is currently held by the Allied Hospitals,” Crina said. It sounded like a line she’d rehearsed. Pure hostility replaced any trace of disdain.
“Excuse my interruption,” a white-haired man said, pushing one of his arms forward on the table. Jyra couldn’t tell if the cape he wore over his suit elevated his status or lowered it. “It’s nice to meet you, young lady–” Jyra felt a sense of horror as she automatically made the face she used to make when she caught the stench of open bitumen mines on Tyrorken –“but I must echo the concern of my colleague. We are all very busy, now more than ever, and I implore you to cut to the core business of this meeting.”
“Your name sir?” Jyra prompted.
“Isaac Mertram.”
Jyra bit back the urge to address him as “old man,” though she had to give him some credit for not listing how many of those dearest to him were captured.
“Very well, Issac,” she said, placing her hands at the head of the nearest table. “I’ll cut right to it.” She glanced at Dania, who pressed her lips together and gave the slightest hint of a nod.
“I understand some present have family members currently bound by the hospital,” Jyra said. “I have come up with a plan that could substantially advance the cause of the resistance and give us an excellent opportunity to free those taken by the enemy.”
“How?” Crina demanded. Her impeccable appearance–the flowing dress, her curled hair, and flawless makeup–stood at odds with her behavior. She looked ready to vault the table to charge at Jyra like a crazed wild animal. “We have been working on our own plans to infiltrate multiple hospital buildings, but resistance intelligence always shows enemy security is too strong.”
“As I said,” Jyra said, “this single mission would relieve two major setbacks for us. The safe return of those dearest to you is of paramount importance, of course. But the tactical purpose of the mission is to hack into a database of hospital spies. That way we can identify the spies in our base and attack them in one swift campaign. If we only capture a handful at first, it will send the others into hiding.”
“How do you propose to beat the defenses and where did you learn about this database?” Charis asked.
Jyra wished she could grab Charis by the shoulders and demand to know why she had suggested proceeding with the inspection. The nerve of her to play the skeptic now.
“I have a source, but I should remind you all that mission that led to the capture of your family members as well as the mission I took part in before that, were both sabotaged by hospital spies in this base.” Jyra hated sounding defensive. “You are all aware that there are enemy spies walking freely among us?”
“You just told us about them,” Isaac said, with an impatient wave of his hand.
“Did you know about them before I told–?” Jyra aborted the question and decided to bring up Meriax.
“My source is the spy we put in the holding cells.”
“So not the one you killed?” Isaac murmured and several others chuckled. Jyra conjured up a calming vision of grasping the old man by the head and slamming his face into the table. She wanted to ask if anyone thought their missing family members were a laughing matter, but that would certainly lead to a messy argument.
“I’ve been interviewing Meriax,” Jyra said, ignoring Isaac. “I intend to press her further about the spy program if you all think this is worth pursuing.”
Jyra hadn’t meant to seek the donor’s approval to question Meriax. The joke had thrown her off.
“So you don’t know if the database even–?” Charis nearly completed the question, but a shrill voice interjected.
“The latest intelligence report is arriving!”
It took Jyra a moment to realize it was the woman who had checked her watch near the beginning of the meeting. Jyra looked to Dania who gave a hasty whisper before departing.
“It’s the larger report I told you about. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Jyra nodded and faced the room alone. She picked up where she left off.
“An educated guess,” Jyra said. “The Allied Hospitals are large enough, bureaucratic enough, to have a database of all their spies. If Meriax has any information that might lead us to it, it’s imperative we get it. Beyond the database, she could even help us free our captives.”
“So you’re suggesting we trust an enemy to help us defeat that same enemy?” Crina asked, every word soaked with incredulity.
“In order to reverse major security breaches in our base and potentially gain new information to defeat hospital defenses,” Jyra said.
“Where do you come from?” a man asked.
He wore a plum-colored ascot and suit jacket. His dark hair was combed and parted to frame his round face, which seemed to be cursed with a perpetual sneer. It took Jyra a moment to recover. She was beginning to understand what Serana must have gone through with these people. No matter the discussion, if the donors weren’t following it or disagreed with its direction, one of them interjected. It was impossible to maintain a clear mind.
“Tyrorken,” she said shortly.
Crina and Charis both sat up a little straighter, but no one else reacted.
“Never heard of it,” the man said.
“What’s you name please?” Jyra asked.
“You may call me Dovens.”
He must have observed what happened to Isaac. It had to be a great indignity not to be addressed by your surname.
“Tyrorken is a planet, Dovens,” Jyra said. “It’s actually quite close to Silanpre. But I think we have strayed from the point.”
“How will you get the information you need from this Meriax?” Dovens asked, his tone becoming much more direct.
“The same way she went in and out of the burning ship,” Charis said. “Sheer force of character.”
Jyra heard the braying laughter, watched the bodies shaking with mirth. These people had been impossible to read: challenging her at one turn and joking at the next. Even if it led to an argument, Jyra knew she couldn’t let the donors get the best of her, certainly not at their first meeting.
“This is what you think of your captured loved ones?” Jyra said, raising her voice. “You think this is a joke? You think I am a joke?”
The room fell silent.
“How can we trust you?” Dovens asked after several moments.
“If you have to ask, you can’t,” Jyra said.
“Well, if I don’t trust you, then you shouldn’t be planning my mother’s rescue,” Dovens said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.
“You can’t trust a murderer,” Charis said.
Jyra bristled as she gripped the end of the table. She glared at Charis, one eyebrow raised, running the words through her mind to make sure she heard them correctly. Charis stared back, but her gaze was more relaxed almost as if she had lost interest. Jyra unwittingly recaptured it in an instant.
She wasn’t sure exactly how she did it, but one moment she had been clutching the table and the next moment, the laminated material crumbled beneath her fingers and palms. Those nearby reacted first and the effect rippled around the room as everyone pointed or stood to see the mangled end of the table.
Jyra took several steps back and opened her hands. She didn’t look down, but felt the crushed remains of the table peeling loose from her skin and pattering on the carpet. She saw Graze disappearing off the hangar deck again, but reality wasn’t far behind. It crashed back into place and Jyra realized she was striding up the middle of the tables. She was aware of donors rising on either side of her, but they couldn’t obstruct her advance.
She stopped in front of Charis and leaned down to address her directly.
“We are at war,” Jyra snarled. “And when we are at war, we need to be careful about using words like ‘murderer’ when discussing the death of an enemy spy. And just to clear this up, I did my duty in Hangar F, except for allowing the inspection to proceed. That was a mistake. But running into the ship was me simply doing the pilot’s job for him. In the future, don’t rush inspections and this won’t happen again. Understood?”
Charis gave a stiff nod from her chair. Jyra slowly became aware that everyone else was standing. She heard the door open behind her and made a fluid turn to see Dania with a modest stack of new intelligence.
“Perfect,” Jyra said. “You can give them to–” Jyra searched for the woman with the watch and, locating her asked–“name?”
The woman said nothing, shocked, along with the rest of the donors, into silence.
“Her,” Jyra said, pointing.
Dania walked down the wall, her normally taut forehead wrinkled with curiosity. She placed the stack in front of the woman, but kept several pages, whispered something to the woman, and nodded at Jyra, who had already returned to the front of the room. Dania joined her and only then noticed the crumbled edge of the table. She started to point, but Jyra interrupted the gesture.
“Not to worry,” she said, taking Dania by the arm and heading for the door. “They made so many allusions about my strength I just had to demonstrate. I think we’re done here for now. Nice to meet you,” Jyra added to the stunned room as she and Dania stepped back into the main cavern.
“What is it? What happened?” Dania asked. “I was only gone for a few minutes.”
“Not here,” Jyra said. “Let’s at least get back to your desk.”
They set off across the cavern. The conference room only had the one exit and Jyra had enough exposure to the donors for one day if not the whole week. The more space she put between herself and them the better.
“Review this as we go,” Dania said, shoving the report at Jyra. “I expect action is already being taken.”
Jyra accepted the report. The first few sentences slowed her pace before she stopped entirely.
“Back to the control room,” Jyra croaked. “We need a recon team assembled and ready to move out.”
She clutched the report in her fist and broke into a run. Her lungs protested, but any delay could only make the situation worse. When they reached the control room, it had changed drastically since the brief ceremony for Jyra. All the desk chairs were empty but twice as many people filled the room, shouting commands and inputting orders into computers. Jyra wasn’t sure how such chaos could accomplish anything useful. She spied Hayes in the fray and pushed to her side.
“Status?” she wheezed, trying to steady her breathing.
“Two teams en route,” Hayes said. “Hospital forces are combing the region too so the teams will land at a safe distance and hike in.”
“How bad were they hit? Why didn’t we see it coming?”
“A stream of bunker strikes. No report yet on other artillery or explosives.”
Jyra sensed Hayes’ impatience but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Serana was placed there, wasn’t she?”
Hayes leaned back from the desk and laid a heavy hand on Jyra’s shoulder. She gave a brief nod.
“We’re doing all we can,” she said. “If you want to help, you are more than welcome. Radar is tracking enemy ships in the area. Monitor that station and if any of them land at the site, let me know immediately.”
Jyra nodded in reply; her mouth had become too dry to speak. She sat down and focused on the screen, remembering what it was like to lose Macnelia. Dania settled in a nearby chair. Jyra placed the crumpled report on the desk, doing her best to relax. The hospital forces glided in and out of the radarscope. The frequency didn’t necessarily indicate a large presence of enemy ships, but rather just the same six or seven patrolling in a pattern.
As Jyra settled into the chair, she realized Hayes hadn’t answered one of her questions. How had the hospital managed to strike with total surprise? The resistance almost always detected enemy attacks, anywhere between hours or minutes ahead of time. Hayes was obviously preoccupied with multiple duties and Jyra knew she couldn’t be expected to address every concern at once. Even so, the thought stuck firmly in Jyra’s mind and held part of her attention as she tried to focus on the screen
“There might be another complication with the donors,” Dania interrupted.
Jyra didn’t want to think about them at all now, or ever again for that matter, but she turned from the monitor and gazed at Dania.
“When a scout base is hit as bad as this one, it’s protocol for all scouts stationed there to return to base for evaluation. That includes Serana.”
“Yes it does,” Jyra said briskly. “At least we already have a list of complications with the donors. Adding one more can’t hurt.”
Stay tuned for Part XXXI