Monthly Archives: April 2018

Thousands of questions clogged Jyra’s mind, but none reached her lips. A combination of relief and anxiety paralyzed her. Eyes wide and mouth slack with disbelief, Jyra emerged from the trance and approached the window. Barlen tipped his helmet like a cap.
“What happened here?” he asked.
His inquiry reinstated the fraught reality around Jyra faster than trash plunging to the ground outside.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she croaked, speaking past Barlen directly to Berk.
“Wish I could say the same,” Berk scoffed, his eyebrows disappearing into his long hair that billowed across his face in the breeze. “I’d say you’re filthy, but I hate to state the obvious.”
He prepared to squeeze through the window, but the lighthearted moment disappeared with a shout.
“Don’t move!”
Jyra turned and saw Kip edging into the room, rifle aimed at Berk. Kip was covered in white dust; clouds of it shook loose with every step.
“Hold on!” Jyra said, raising an arm. “It’s fine. He’s a friend. Barlen is with him.”
Kip fixed her with a suspicious glare. Jyra immediately recognized the disconnect. From the back of the room, Kip saw only the black windows of the complex. He couldn’t tell the difference between the shadowed hull of Mastranada from the darkness of night. That meant, from his perspective, an enormous man was struggling to pull himself through a shattered fourth-floor window toward Jyra while holding a shotgun.
“Step back for a moment,” Jyra told Berk.
“Why?” Berk asked. “His friend is right here!”
Thankfully, Berk gestured behind him and the white light of the cargo bay spilled into the room and spoiled the troubling illusion. Barlen slipped past Berk and crawled into the room. Kip had shielded his eyes against the light and now saw what was before him. He lowered his rifle.
“Sorry,” he grunted. “Why aren’t you back at the ship?” he asked Barlen.
Barlen seemed taken aback by the snappy tone, but he understood Kip had been given quite a turn.
“Two fellows came knocking on the ship door,” Barlen said. “They wanted to know where Jyra was.”
A sharp cry of pain came from the hallway. Jyra suddenly remembered the wounded, the dying, the mission.
“We have to move,” Jyra said. “We’re still vulnerable. Injuries need to be addressed.”
“And we have files to deal with,” Kip added.
“Who is with you?” Jyra asked, turning to Berk, hope filling her voice.
“Leonick and I ran with Mastranada,” Berk said. “A story for later, I think. What needs to be done to get out of here?”
“Get all the wounded back to where you met Barlen,” Jyra said. “Once we do that, there’s a room full of files we need to take.”
“Show me,” Berk grunted.
Kip gave Jyra such a glare she had to say something to reassure him as she led Berk toward the hall.
“Berk is from another resistance I served,” Jyra said. “Berk this is Kip, leader of this mission.”
“Well enough,” Berk said, glancing down at Kip. “Better introductions when we’re in better circumstances.”
Kip gave a stiff nod in reply and made to follow Berk toward the office door.
“The wounded are on the other side of the wall?” Berk asked.
“Yes,” Jyra said. “The door’s over here.”
“Hold on,” Berk said.
Jyra stepped back and Kip jumped as Berk shoved his fists into the drywall, the sharp crack filling the subdued surroundings. He pulled hard, snapping two studs free that trailed broken bits of the finished wall. Berk tossed the mess aside, opening a direct path between the hall and the ship.
The lights from Mastranada’s cargo bay revealed the dust sinking from the cracks in the ceiling. Members of the platoon stirred from the sound of Berk ripping open the wall and the burst of illumination. Jyra proceeded into the hall. Kip followed behind. Berk and Barlen checked the other end of the hall.
“Who’s hurt?” Jyra asked gently. “Who can hear me? There’s a ship to get us out of here. It’s just outside the window.”
Hands, gloved or bare, dusted or bloodied reached toward her. Kip checked on those who managed to stand, relying on walls for support.
Jyra waded though the carnage, stepping with care around stationary bodies. The office with the files was on her right, which meant she was nearly to the front. The fallen laser canon rested in the middle of the corridor. The soldier who fired it lay facedown, his head ringed in a patch of blood. Jyra paused, willing herself to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
The bodies here were still. Bullet shells littered the floor along with dust and concrete chippings.
“Anyone?” Jyra managed to whisper. The acrid stench of smoke and powder blended with the overwhelming scent of blood, burned clothing, and flesh. Jyra had to turn away to draw breath. This place was no longer for the living.
An arm rose against the wall. The dust hid the usual gleam of her hair, but Jyra suddenly recognized Meriax.
“Need some help,” she said.
Jyra knelt quickly, trying to keep her priorities in check. Meriax needed her assistance above all else.
“Where?” Jyra asked.
“Leg and shoulder,” Meriax grunted. In the shadows, Jyra saw the blood beneath the curled ends of her friend’s hair near her clavicle. Meriax clutched her thigh.
“We’ll get you out of here,” Jyra said. She looked down the hallway, trying to ignore a severed arm by her knee.
She heard Berk’s gruff voice as he said something to Kip in passing while he carried two bodies toward Mastranada. Jyra couldn’t see their expressions, but it didn’t matter right now.
“Can I help you stand?” she asked.
“Let’s see,” Meriax replied, holding out her free hand. Jyra caught a glimpse of smeared blood on the floor as a flashlight pivoted behind her. She extended her arm and grabbed hold of Meriax. Their eyes met and they both stood at once. Meriax staggered forward and they proceeded down the passage.
“The light?” Meriax asked.
“A ship,” Jyra said. “Some old friends of mine. I don’t know how they found me.”
“Good friends,” Meriax said, gritting her teeth as the wound in her leg spasmed.
They reached Berk’s hole in the wall and Jyra guided them toward the waiting cargo bay. As they came to the window, Berk appeared inside the ship and helped lift Meriax to safety. Jyra glanced past him. The bay was empty.
“Where is everyone?” she asked.
“Quarters and corridors,” Berk answered, supporting Meriax as though she were a length of rope. “The engine room’s the morgue.”
Jyra gave a stiff nod. Berk glanced at the floor, uncharacteristically considering what he was about to say.
“I suspect we’ll have room for those files,” he growled before escorting Meriax toward the corridor beyond the cargo bay.
For a moment, Jyra wanted only to gather the living and fallen into Mastranada and fly away. But the dead had given their lives for the files. Jyra raced back to the hall. Kip continued to rouse soldiers and field team members. More than seemed conceivable remained motionless on the floor.
Suddenly, the door behind Kip fell open. No one in the hall had time for defensive action, but they had no need to seek cover. Tony and several perimeter guards stepped out of the stairwell, still filled with smoke from Kip’s grenade.
“A ship!” he said, recognizing Kip at once.
“It’s fine,” Kip said, but Jyra didn’t miss the chill in his voice. “They’re helping. How’s the ground?”
“All clear,” Tony said. “The security forces below all came to you it seems.”
His face fell as he surveyed the carnage before him.
“We need to hurry,” Tony gasped, tearing his eyes form the floor. “More trash is coming down and large cracks have opened in the building.”
“Hurry is right,” Jyra said. “Get the remainder of the perimeter guard up here. We need to load the files into the ship and leave as soon as we can.”
She caught Tony’s quizzical look when she mentioned loading files, but he recovered before she did.
“The rest are positioned below,” he said. “I’ll retrieve them. The rest of you—” he added to his team—“get the wounded on that ship.”
With the perimeter guard joining the cause, the work of loading the dead and injured onto Mastranada took only three or four trips. Berk was right. After everyone was aboard, the cargo bay remained available for the files. Jyra, Kip, Berk, Tony, his team, and the few sound soldiers seized armloads of files at a time. Shelf after shelf emptied with each trip.
As Tony and Kip dug into the files of the last shelf, Jyra saw Berk pause in the doorway. His eyes narrowed as though in deep thought.
He strode forward and looked at Jyra. By that time, the shelf was half empty.
“Leonick says bits of the building are falling on the cockpit,” he said. “Time to call it.”
Jyra grabbed as many files as she could wrap her arms around.
“Leave none,” she commanded.
Berk crushed as many together between his hands as possible.
Kip and Tony reappeared in the doorway.
“Get them!” Jyra roared. “All the files, the building’s about to come down!”
The two men rushed forward as Berk and Jyra moved toward the door, clutching their burdens.
Kip and Tony gathered the last of the files. They all sprinted toward the dark hallway. The patter of the falling ceiling grew louder as the fines grew larger, bouncing off the floor like grenades. Jyra turned toward the light, dodging a chunk of plunging concrete the size of her head. The men behind her all bowed forward as they ran, certain they would collide with the building buckling around them.
Jyra leapt, gliding through the window. The familiar floor appeared below her and she automatically released the files from her grasp. Her shoulder struck first and she kicked her legs to redirect her weight, hoping to soften the impact as she skidded to a halt. Jyra scrambled toward the cargo bay door. Berk sailed past her, Kip clinging to his leg, barely pinning his load of files against his chest. Jyra only saw Tony, bits of the shattered ceiling raining around him.
“Throw them!”Jyra bellowed.
A white mass soared through the window. The stack of files held together until they hit the floor of the cargo bay. Jyra seized the edge of the door with one hand and threw herself toward Tony who dived at her. The tumbling debris pummeled him and Jyra heard Berk yelling behind her. First, she felt a palm on hers and locked her fingers around Tony’s. Then she realized the floor beneath her shifted. Mastranada tilted away from the complex. Berk appeared next to Jyra and, seeming to exert the effort of lifting a pillow, pulled Tony inside. She caught sight of Kip shoving the scattered files away from the yawning door. Almost out of habit, she slid sideways and slammed her fist on the button. They watched the sixth floor collapse onto the fifth floor as the closing door obscured the final demise of the complex. For a moment, all Jyra heard was her own breath.
Kip remained on the floor, surrounded by the white files. Berk began gathering them as best he could. Tony remained sitting next to the wall near the cargo door. Jyra knelt beside him. Blood oozed from several cuts on his scalp and forehead. His sleeves were torn and Jyra saw wounds on his arms.
“Weren’t much to look at anyway,” Tony grunted.
“We’ll get you patched up,” Jyra said.
As she spoke, Barlen appeared with a small medical kit. He knelt down and began cutting back Tony’s sleeves, exposing the wounds and the copious shiny burns on his arms.
“This is going to sting,” Barlen said, and began spraying the cuts with disinfectant.
“You’ve got him?” Jyra asked and Barlen nodded. He began unrolling a strip of medical tape, while tearing open gauze pads.
“Thanks for your part,” Jyra added to Tony. “You outdid yourself.”
“Had to complete the mission,” Tony said. “What ship is this? Not one of ours.”
“No,” Jyra said. How had Berk and Leonick located her? What happened to Craig and the rest of the TF resistance?
Jyra wanted the answers, but as she watched Barlen help Tony, she thought of the unknown number of fallen comrades. She got to her feet, preparing to ask Berk how many dead bodies he put on board, but he spoke before her.
“We’re all here,” he said. “Head back to the ships.”
Jyra felt Mastranada shift around her and accelerate. Berk looked over his shoulder and saw Jyra watching him.
“Where are these headed?” Berk asked. “I don’t think we have any crates on board. Maybe just stack them for now?”
Jyra couldn’t help admiring Berk’s commitment to the mission he joined twenty minutes ago. Simultaneously, the weight of the dead threatened to overwhelm her and she let her curiosity steer the conversation away from misery.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
Berk pulled back his hair and revealed a familiar earpiece. The TF resistance used them during the mission to rescue Derek.
“These put out quite a strong signal,” Berk said. “I’m guessing you haven’t spent any of your share of the Orasten bounty.”
Kip had taken over trying to organize the files on the floor and he glanced at Berk for a moment, then shrugged and returned to his work.
“Leonick put an earpiece in the box with the cash,” Jyra said.
“You weren’t on Silanpre long before we lost track of it, though,” Berk said.
“It’s the mist around the base,” Jyra said. “It interferes with most transmitting signals.”
“Too much to tell right now, but when we departed from Craig and company, we parked in the trash belt, waiting to see the earpiece cast again,” Berk said. “When it showed up tonight we took out a couple of the trash tugs.”
“That was you?” Jyra interrupted. Berk shot her a skeptical look.
“Who do you think we are?” he said. “I don’t need an excuse to harm the Allied Hospitals. We were coming for you and we figured chaos would be our ally. So we made it rain steel.”
Mastranada rotated again and began to descend.
“Seems we’re back,” Berk said. “To be continued.”
He walked back to the cargo door and pressed the button. By the time it slid fully ajar, the bunker courtyard stretched before them and they settled with a thud onto the stones.
“I should relieve Yoke,” Jyra said. “No doubt he’s needed here.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kip said quickly.
“Sure,” Jyra said, but she paused.
“Berk, can you call Leonick?” she asked. He nodded.
“Nice flying. Come down to the cargo bay to say hello to an old friend. Watch your step in the corridor.”
Soldiers and members of field teams staggered into the cargo bay, making for the door. Part of Jyra wanted to turn away from their faces, those who limped or bore obvious injuries, but she forced herself to acknowledge them, holding what she hoped was a steady, reassuring gaze.
She helped the wounded out of the ship. Mastranada’s landing lights swamped the courtyard; it was easily the biggest ship there.
Leonick appeared in the doorway and Jyra walked toward him. His dark blond hair and copper skin gleamed under the lights of the cargo bay. She pulled him into a brief hug and broke away, unable to stop smiling.
“Thanks for the help,” Jyra said. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You are welcome,” Leonick said in his usual soft voice. “It seems we arrived at an advantageous time.”
“The entire mission would have failed without you,” Jyra said. “And who knows where I would be without you in the first place?”
Leonick only smiled and directed his attention to his toes, gently shaking his head.
“I could not say,” he said. “You are here and so am I.”
“Fair enough,” Jyra said. “We’ll talk more soon,” she added, noticing Kip waiting by the door. He seemed quite keen to leave.
They jumped free of Mastranada together and strode toward their ship. Kip said nothing and kept his eyes forward.
“What’s wrong?” Jyra said. Kip gave no indication he heard her. Jyra realized how desperate she was to check on Serana, especially when she planted her feet. Her pause at least made Kip turn around.
“What’s wrong?” she repeated. He shrugged.
“Where to start?” Kip said. His voice sounded hollow and strangled.
Jyra suppressed the urge to yell “so start!” but she held her stare.
Kip gripped his rifle and glanced at the ground. His hair lit up as stars appeared between the clouds. When he raised his face, Jyra saw a pained smile.
“I didn’t think we would lose so many,” he said.
“But we got the files,” Jyra said. “Their loss was not in vain. We achieved the goal of the mission.”
A grimace still twisted Kip’s face.
“It’s my old friends,” she suggested. Kip hesitated before he spoke.
“They saved us,” he said. The strain and delay of his delivery told Jyra all she needed to know.
“They did,” Jyra said. “I want to know why you’re taking that so hard, but I need to see Serana right now. Congratulations on the successful mission.”
“I thought we were leading this together,” Kip cut across her.
“What?”
“You introduced me as leader of the mission,” Kip said. “You led it, too. You finished it.”
Jyra couldn’t wait any longer.
“Tell me that isn’t your chief problem right now,” she said, stalking past him. Kip remained where he was as Jyra climbed into the transport.
She was about to knock on the door to the medical room, but she caught sight of her duffel. Jyra lowered her fist, then her body, and unzipped the bag.
The box wasn’t hard to find; it always sank through the clothes. Jyra hastily pulled it out and dug through the crisp bundles of cash. She had to pull some stacks free to make enough room. Eventually her fingers found the bottom of the box and then the small earpiece. She extracted it and slipped it into her pocket. She reloaded the box and replaced it in her duffel. Then she knocked.
“It’s me, Jyra,” she said.
Yoke opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief.
“That…large man says you know him?” he said.
“I do,” Jyra said, squeezing past Yoke into the cramped room. “I hope Berk introduced himself.”
“I think he thought you were her,” Yoke said. “He saw Serana and his eyes bulged.”
“He’s quite harmless, unless you cross him,” Jyra said.
“Fair warning,” Yoke said.
“How’s she doing?” Jyra asked.
“She’s opened her eyes a couple times,” Yoke said. “No sign of true consciousness yet. Cog readout suggests she might wake up within in the hour.”
“Thank you for looking after her,” Jyra said. Yoke nodded. Jyra turned to leave, but saw Yoke giving her a beseeching stare. Her vacant expression prompted him to ask.
“What happened? Good mission? Anyone hurt?”
Shame fell in an instant. The moment Yoke said Serana was all right, she should have acted.
“We got the files, all of them,” Jyra said. “If Serana is stable enough, I’m sure you can be of use in my friends’ ship.”
Jyra faltered, unsure of what to say. She didn’t know how many were dead or wounded.
“You can stay here with her,” Yoke said. “Should just be a matter of time, like I said.”
Yoke grabbed several medical kits and stowed them under his arm as he slipped toward the door.
“How many?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Jyra said. “We took heavy losses.”
“You know where to find me,” Yoke said, nodding toward Serana.
He left the room and Jyra sat on the short stool next to the bed. She gazed at Serana, willing her eyes to open.
“Did you know about the spies in the base?” Jyra whispered. “Did you know how harmful they became?”
Serana stirred, shifting her shoulders and letting a small sigh escape her lips. But her eyes remained closed.
Once again, Jyra privately chastised herself. Common decency and sensitivity seemed to have abandoned her, along with the ability to prioritize. Failing to get Yoke to Mastranada immediately and now pressing an unconscious woman for answers.
Scenes of the mission paraded across her mind, like turning pages in a book. She saw the debris falling from space. Knowing that Leonick and Berk had precipitated the downpour, Jyra suddenly connected the next memory to them, too. Mastranada had bombed the battery. The ship had never had a proper cannon aboard, just a couple incendiary mounts on its belly; it could only attack from above.
She thought of Meriax, hoping she was receiving the care she needed. Serana sighed again and Jyra felt torn between the two women, wishing she could hold both of them close. For now, her thoughts were her only company. Jyra tried again to think if she had ever said something, anything, to Meriax that would indicate she assumed they were after digital files. Even now, Jyra felt the unexpected, visceral tug, like a vast hook catching her hips midstride, the shock of seeing the shelves of files.
If she wasn’t certain Meriax was on their side, Jyra saw how a hostile captive could have set such a trap. Had that been the case, the entire mission would likely have been swallowed in the collapsing building.
Next, Jyra recalled her first morning on Silanpre when she threw a pebble and watched it soar in the fractionally more forgiving gravity. She saw Tony leap toward her, surrounded by the disintegrating complex. If they had been on Tyrorken or Drometica, the stronger gravity would have captured him far from Jyra’s outstretched hand.
Jyra shuddered and pushed the thought away. She took a deep breath, but became only more irritated as her mind returned to Kip. He wasn’t himself and trying to guess why was as tantalizing as it was frustrating.
His surprise about the mission casualties bore truth; Jyra felt the same. She wasn’t sure what to expect hiking toward the complex, but the absence of significant obstacles outside the building boosted her confidence. The surprise attack from the security team was all it took to decimate their forces.
We didn’t need that many people, Jyra thought suddenly. She wondered if Meriax knew and before she realized it, she stood up, suspecting Meriax meant to destroy as much of the resistance as possible.
She caught sight of her arm, stretched for the door handle. The scar on the back of her hand leapt into focus, brilliant white in the bright light.
“Careful,” she muttered aloud, addressing both her thoughts and the scar. She sat down again, deciding she and Kip could use some space from each other.
She looked at Serana and Serana looked back.
“What’s happened? Happening?” she asked vaguely.
“I’m glad to see you. How do you feel?” Jyra said, struck by the number of those killed on the mission Serana must know. Her throat constricted and refused to relax.
“What’s the matter?” Serana said, ignoring Jyra’s question. Her voice was already regaining strength. “You’re covered in dust.”
“Nothing,” Jyra said, hastily standing to adjust the pillow to hide her slipping composure.
“I’m comfy,” Serana interjected. “My mom used to fuss with my bedding when she was upset, too. Why are we in a transport?”
“The donors went on a rampage,” Jyra said.
“Dad?” Serana said into the silence. Jyra couldn’t speak, which answered the question.
“They got Hayes, too,” she finally managed to gulp, leaning forward in the chair pushing her hair back from her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
Serana gave a stiff nod, staring resolutely at the ceiling.
“Thanks for getting me out of there,” Serana croaked after a long silence. “Where are we now?”
Even in times of crisis and sadness, basic questions of fact were easy to ask and to answer.
“The bunker where you were injured.”
“Pleasant memories,” Serana said with a pained smile.
“We got everything out of your locker,” Jyra said. “It’s all on board.”
“Why are we at the bunker?”
Jyra explained what happened in the base, how they escaped, and recruited the field teams to their cause.
“You were going to hack a database of hospital spies in the resistance base?” Serana said.
“We were,” Jyra said. “Turns out the database was physical files, but we got them.”
“How did you discover the database?”
“A guess at first and then Meriax confirmed it,” Jyra said, wishing she could downplay Meriax’s involvement.
“You trusted the spy we arrested?” Serana said, pushing herself up on her elbows.
“That was an exercise,” Jyra said.
“She was an active hostile,” Serana said.
“Allowed to work in the base like the other spies,” Jyra said. “How long have you known about them? Why were they allowed to subvert the resistance?”
Serana sank against her pillow, the effort of contemplating the questions seemed to deflate her.
In the silence, shouts rose from outside.
“What’s that?” Serana asked.
“Stay here,” Jyra said. She opened the door and ran out of the cargo bay. Soldiers in front of the bunker pointed toward the sky. A large flat object was spinning out of the darkness, glowing with heat from reentry, and gliding directly toward the ships parked in the courtyard.