Part XXXI: Fractured unity

The commotion in the ward had settled. All the doors to the recovery rooms were shut. Jyra sat in the very room where she received treatment for smoke inhalation just three days ago. This time, however, her friend occupied the bed. The hospital attack on a resistance bunker in the north killed no one, but it injured every scout stationed there. Jyra dropped by the ward several times, but Serana hadn’t awoken since her surgery.

Shrapnel from an explosion struck Serana in the abdomen and one arm. She nearly bled out before doctors staunched the flow. It took several hours to patch her up. Jyra did her best to maintain her routine, but the events leading to the hospital attack distracted her. The resistance, uncommonly, had no prior warning of the strike.

Jyra managed to review all of the latest intelligence reports. They revealed no potential targets for the mission she hoped to initiate. She thumbed through the briefs late into the night, unable to sleep; the moment her head hit the pillow, she thought of Serana. Jyra either had to return to the intelligence reports or she would pace, mentally stitching together a story in her mind she couldn’t explain any better than she could ignore. Even as she sat in Serana’s recovery room, picking at a loose thread on the chair cushion, her mind wandered to the tantalizing chain of events connected, she swore, by more than chronology.

It started with the Emarand Liberation mission. It not only allowed the hospitals to capture Jyra and Kip, but Fritz, an undercover hospital spy, also seized an opportunity to compromise the entire rescue. Spies in the resistance base then sabotaged the mission that freed Jyra, Kip, and Tony and the enemy captured many who took part in the campaign. A number of those taken prisoner were members of donor families and the rest of the donors turned on Serana. Despite achieving the goal of the mission, the loss of so many overshadowed the victory.

Jyra stared at the bed, plagued by questions only Serana could answer. Why had so many donor family members volunteered for the mission? How had the spies managed to execute such disruption in the base without being detected? Had Serana said anything significant in her last meeting with the donors?

In place of elusive answers, the incessant narrative proceeded in Jyra’s head. The botched mission resulted in Serana’s father relocating her to the scout base in the north rather than banishing Serana from the resistance entirely. It was in that moment when Jyra discerned the power structure of the resistance. Even Serana’s father could not simply overrule the donors. Such a revelation, however, paled in significance when other events fell into place. Serana’s savage treatment of Meriax followed by an almost casual acknowledgement that enemy spies roamed freely in the base were ingredients for a conversation with Serana later.

When Serana left the base, Jyra took her position, facing the pressure of her new job while treading gently on networks of loyalty she didn’t fully understand. A ship inspection ended with a fuel line explosion, her push to weed out spies in the base, the meeting with the donors, and, obviously, the attack on the resistance scouts led both her and Serana to this room.

The chain of events ended, but Jyra waded onward into speculation, a more enticing endeavor that moved beyond facts. Perhaps it was the hostility she sensed from the moment the donor meeting began, but Jyra felt certain that some of them were hospital spies. The very notion made no sense, especially since they were called donors because of the financial support they contributed to the resistance. Why pay for one side and fight for the other? And why would an institution capture its own spies?

A gentle knock on the door jerked Jyra from inside her head. She swiveled in her chair and felt a smile lift her weary face. Kip peered through the door before slipping inside.

“How is she?” he whispered.

“Okay,” Jyra replied. “Still asleep, but the doctors are optimistic.”

Kip carried a chair from the other corner of the room and placed it next to Jyra’s. He rubbed his hands together for a moment.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

Jyra motioned to the door and they retreated to the otherwise deserted hallway.

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Jyra said, as they leaned against the wall. Kip’s pupils flared in the light. “No ideas yet, but it’s bothering me, too.”

“I heard you met with the donors,” Kip said.

“I did,” Jyra said.

“Dania told me,” Kip said. “It didn’t go too well?”

“Not my fault,” Jyra said. “I don’t even want to discuss it.”

“Well Dania mentioned something related to you telling the donors about the prisoner, so I made sure to keep her protected.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra said.

Kip glanced at the floor, apparently stalling in order to choose the right words.

“You told the donors you were going to interview the prisoner in order to plan a strike on the hospitals?”

“Not a strike,” Jyra said. “A mission to gather intelligence.”

Kip shook his head dismissively.

“You were going to fly one of our ships into enemy territory,” he qualified. “The point is, they have their own agenda and will try to thwart you at every turn. You placed value on the prisoner.”

“Her name is Meriax,” Jyra said.

“That won’t matter if she’s dead,” Kip said. “I’m not blaming you, but just…maybe I am blaming you. What I’m trying to say is be careful. The donors want to interfere and I wouldn’t put it past them to kill someone in a cell if it helped ruin your plans.”

Jyra felt panic seize her gut, which must have shown on her face.

“I took care of it,” Kip said in a rush. “I had Dania tell the gatekeeper to only allow you through the gate until you tell him otherwise. Meriax is safe.”

“Thanks,” Jyra said. “Now that I’ve met them, I have to agree with you about the donors and their attitude. Do we really need their support?”

Kip shrugged. Jyra couldn’t keep it to herself anymore.

“Do you think some of the donors could be hospital spies?” she asked. The idea seemed even more implausible when she said it out loud. “I know it sounds crazy,” she added hastily.

“I’ve wondered that myself,” Kip said. “Maybe some of them. But there’s no way to prove it. And why would they be so angry about their captured family members?”

“That’s what I keep getting hung up on, too,” Jyra said. “Until now. What if all the donors are spies? The ones who were captured are just reassigned elsewhere on the planet. Maybe their capture was really a ride home.”

“Well hold on,” Kip said. “If that’s the case, why are they even supporting the resistance? Forget the finances, there’s enough of them in here to destroy this whole base.”

“I don’t have an answer for that,” Jyra said. “Like you said, though, it sounds like they are crafting their own plans.”

“Whatever it is, we can’t let it begin,” Kip said. “It’s too risky.”

“I agree,” Jyra said. “There’s no way to control them, but at least we know they are in the base. If they launch a mission, who knows what they’ll do?”

“There’s no way to restrict their access to resistance intelligence, is there?” Kip asked.

Jyra remembered the woman with the watch in the donor meeting. The second a scheduled batch of new intelligence reports were available, the woman made sure the entire room knew. They couldn’t cut off the supply of the reports to donors without raising suspicion.

“It’s the spy conundrum all over again,” Jyra said, pushing off the wall and walking to the one opposite. Kip shrugged again.

“If we blatantly ban them from accessing intelligence, they’ll revolt,” Jyra said. “Like the spies. If we try to target them one at a time and catch one, the others will go into hiding.”

“One major difference,” Kip said, his eyes growing wide. “The spies would only know what’s happening when we apprehend one. The donors, on the other hand, are relying on something less tangible than a person.”

Jyra couldn’t help but smile. Kip looked at the floor grinning, obviously pleased with himself.

“So when do we begin feeding the donors fake intelligence reports?” Jyra asked.

“As soon as we make them, I suppose,” Kip said.

Jyra crossed back to him and clutched one of his hands in both of her own.

“Thank you for protecting Meriax,” she said. “I need to get some rest and then I’ll speak with her again about the other spies.”

Kip pulled Jyra into a brief hug and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Is she going to tell you all of her secrets?” he asked as Jyra broke away.

“Hopefully just the one I need,” Jyra said, heading down the corridor.

*

The gate to the holding cells materialized in the darkness. Jyra heard the shuffling steps of the gatekeeper before she saw him. A smile split his wizened face when he saw her, taking Jyra by surprise; the first time she met him, the gatekeeper seemed to have only the capacity to scowl.

“What a relief to see you,” he said, fitting the key in the lock.

“You remember me?” Jyra asked.

“I don’t forget faces,” the gatekeeper said, pulling the gate open. “I’ve had to turn away a couple folks since word came down that only you could pass.”

“Really?” Jyra asked, mentally thanking Kip again for his quick thinking.

The gatekeeper nodded and proceeded down the passage.

“One woman one day and another woman the next,” the gatekeeper said. “First one was definitely a donor. Not sure about the second.”

“What did the first woman look like?” Jyra asked.

“She actually came almost as soon as I got the order to the keep the gate sealed,” the gatekeeper said. “She was older, had a pointy nose, curled hair.”

“How you know she was donor?” Jyra said, though she was sure she already knew the answer.

“She wore a long dress.”

“What about the second?”

“Younger with blond hair. She had a uniform similar to yours. She showed me her card. I think it was from the transport division. I didn’t pay much attention since it wasn’t you. She got angry, but eventually realized she was wasting her time as well as mine.”

“The transport division,” Jyra repeated. “Traffic control?”

“That’s the one,” the gatekeeper said, turning to open the cell adjacent to Meriax’s.

“Thank you,” Jyra said, stepping inside. The gatekeeper withdrew without another word.

Meriax sat on her cot, staring at Jyra. She wore a tattered pair of slacks and a black long sleeve shirt. Her hair stood out against the darkness. Her eyes looked like they were backlit; despite the surrounding gloom, her blue irises were easy to see from a distance.

“How are the clothes?” Jyra asked.

“An improvement,” Meriax said. “I assume you came all the way down here to fit me with a pair of shoes next.”

Jyra didn’t respond, but simply stared into the other cell, determined to wait for Meriax to make the next move. Her patience was rewarded.

“So, you’ve made friends with the gatekeeper,” Meriax said, standing up and lazily gripping a bar on her cell door.

“What makes you say that?” Jyra said, walking closer to the bars between them.

“I know other people have tried to see me,” Meriax said. “It’s not easy to hear what goes on at the main gate from here but I can.”

“Those people were coming to kill you,” Jyra said bluntly.

“But you need to keep me alive,” Meriax said. “So you stopped them.”

“I didn’t,” Jyra said. “If there was an order to increase your protection, I wasn’t the one who issued it.”

“How do you know the donors were coming to kill me?” Meriax asked, shifting her weight to her other leg.

Jyra realized Meriax had indeed been able to hear her conversation with the gatekeeper. She’d have to be more careful in the future but for now she couldn’t let it distract her.

“I told them I’ve met with you,” Jyra said. “The donors have their own agenda and will do everything to upset mine and the rest of the resistance.”

“Aren’t they supporting–?”

“Yes,” Jyra interrupted. “I don’t know if they are going to prevail, but as long as I keep my position, there’s a chance you’ll be released. If the donors gain control, at best you’ll die of starvation where you stand.”

For the first time, a trace of fear passed over Meriax’s face. She tried to make a casual recovery.

“There’s a chance I’ll be released as long as I do what?” she said.

“Answer all of my questions honestly to the best of your ability,” Jyra said.

“Is this a test?”

“Of sorts,” Jyra said, wondering if she should plunge into her questioning or make Meriax wait again, but she thought of her discussion with Kip and the donors pushing their own interests. Time wasn’t on her side.

“Are you or any of the other spies in the base members of donor families?” she said, trying to inject ambivalence into the question.

Meriax turned on her heel and sat on her cot. In addition to forming an answer, Jyra knew the prisoner had to be thinking about how much to say, what information to omit, and how it would all serve her circumstances. Although Jyra had to act quickly, at least she still had the upper hand.

“I am not a member of a donor family,” Meriax said. “I don’t know about any others, if they even exist.”

“They do,” Jyra said. “You yourself admitted Graze planted the bomb where we caught you.”

“Well, if he were alive you could throw him in the cell next to mine. Maybe I could have gotten some info out of him.”

“Where did you train to be a spy?” Jyra asked, scrutinizing Meriax’s expression.

“The Northern Intelligence complex,” Meriax said without hesitation.

“What were your days like?” Jyra asked.

“I don’t keep a diary.”

“What was the program like?” Jyra amended. “Did you train with other spies?”

Meriax crossed to Jyra, stopping at the bars, her wide-eyed stare unwavering.

“I trained with other spies,” Meriax said. “That is how the program worked.”

“How did they track your progress?”

“I don’t understand.”

“How did they assess your skills? How were you selected for missions?” Jyra asked.

Meriax drew away and broke eye contact. She returned to her cot and tossed her hair back, a smile spreading across her face.

“You are after the records,” she said.

“Maybe I am,” Jyra replied with a shrug of ambivalence. She placed a hand on one of the cold cell bars. Meriax already figured it out.

“I don’t know if what I seek exists,” Jyra said. She paused as picked over an idea. “I used to work as a mechanic at a small garage. Tiny place. It only had two service bays. I’ll never forget walking into the office my first day and seeing all of the invoices on my boss’s desk. There must have been hundreds. I thought that if a quaint repair shop generated that much paperwork, how much would an organization like the Allied Resistance make?”

“Or the spy program for the Allied Hospitals?” Meriax suggested.

Jyra said nothing and the prisoner continued.

“I’m not sure what you would do with that information,” she said. “It won’t stop more spies from getting into the base.”

“So those records are kept in the Northern Intelligence complex?” Jyra said, pleased that Meriax evidently misunderstood Jyra’s intentions for the information. Perhaps her smile grew just wide enough to trigger Meriax’s suspicion.

“I can take you to the files,” she said as the fear returned to her eyes.

Jyra nodded.

“All we needed was some cooperation,” Jyra said. “I’ll be back once I get a mission arranged.”

Meriax remained silent as she came to the bars and clutched them as Jyra summoned the gatekeeper.

“You know where to find me,” Meriax said, as the gatekeeper admitted Jyra into the passage.

*

“She told you all that?” Kip asked. “How? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Jyra said. “I think she realized I found out what I needed to know, at least as far as she can tell. Maybe she saw it as her last chance to earn her freedom.”

“In that position, I’d feel desperate too,” Kip said. “You’re sure she wasn’t lying?”

“She told me so little, there wasn’t enough substance to conceal a lie.”

It was the next afternoon after Jyra’s meeting with Meriax. Kip invited Jyra to review the fake intelligence reports he composed.

“These look promising,” Jyra said. “They need to be printed on official letterhead, though.”

“Not one of the people I trust has access to the communication hub,” Kip said.

“Commander Hayes,” Jyra said. “She should be able to help us.”

“Can she be trusted?” Kip said.

“She can.”

“I worry about involving people in higher ranks,” Kip said. “If they disapprove, this ends immediately.”

His eyes met her steady gaze and he gave a small nod of understanding.

“You spoke for her and that’s good enough for me,” Kip said briskly, running a hand through his hair.

Jyra heard his words, but had to ignore a pang of uneasiness. She wondered if they even had the resources–bodies and ships–to accomplish the mission.

“The donors don’t have any other intel sources besides the briefs, do they?” she asked.

Kip shrugged.

“I’ll see if Hayes knows,” Jyra said. “If they do, this has been a waste of time.”

“Or it will contradict their alternative reports and confuse them.”

“It depends on the reliability of those sources,” Jyra said. Kip glanced at his work and couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“We need to be smarter about our tactics,” he said.

“Just smarter than the donors,” Jyra said.

 

*

Commander Hayes held her post at the control center the next morning. Jyra entered, feeling much sleepier and nervous than usual. Her mind pushed slumber aside throughout the night, favoring imagined conversations with Hayes. Despite her grogginess, Jyra remembered to wear her medal.

“What can I do for you?” Hayes asked, both of her large hands placed on her desk while she hunched toward a monitor, her eyes never straying from the screen.

“I need a quick word,” Jyra said. “In private.”

“One moment,” Hayes said. “The patrol pattern is about to loop again.”

Jyra swallowed hard and couldn’t tell if she felt relief or despair when Hayes stood. They stepped outside of central command and faced each other in the entryway.

“How can I help?” Hayes asked, Jyra could hardly bring herself to make eye contact, but she forced herself to do it.

“Do you know if the donors receive any intelligence from beyond the base besides our intel briefs?” An expression crossed Hayes’ face Jyra hadn’t yet seen, even during the bunker bombing in the north. Her mouth twisted wryly for a moment and her eyes narrowed.

“Not that I know of,” she said.

“Do you have access to the intel brief printing office?” Jyra asked, hoping to get as many questions answered without needing to reveal her motives, but Hayes had enough.

“I do, but why are you asking?”

“The donors are trying to organize their own missions to rescue their family members from the hospitals,” Jyra said.

“Sounds ambitious,” Hayes said.

“They’ll risk themselves, not to mention our ships to launch such a campaign,” Jyra said.

“What is this all about?” Hayes said. The exasperation in her voice told Jyra she needed to present her conclusion in due course.

“To prevent such a risk, I want to feed the donors fake intel reports,” Jyra said.

“Why not just cut them off from the real ones?”

“To avoid backlash,” Jyra said. “At least one woman keeps track of when new reports come in. Better give the donors something than nothing at all.”

“How long will you feed them the fakes?” Hayes said. Jyra shrugged.

“As long as needed to curtail a donor mission.”

“I think this sort of mission is something they might plan for a very long time,” Hayes said, folding her long fingers together in front of her navel. “Why the rush?”

Jyra had seen this question coming, but hearing it from Hayes’ mouth paralyzed her own. Kip’s skepticism intruded in her mind. What if Meriax had been lying?

“I don’t think the donors are who they claim to be, certainly not all of them,” Jyra began.

“What do you mean?” Hayes asked with a note of impatience.

“I think some of donors are acting as spies for the Allied Hospitals,” Jyra said. “I know it seems bizarre, but they clearly have their own agenda and are using resources from the resistance to fulfill their desires.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” Hayes said after a brief pause, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Do you have proof to support your claim?”

“I know where to get it,” Jyra said.

“You’ll need a mission arranged to find such proof, I assume?”

“I will,” Jyra said. “I also need the intake files for each of the donors in the base.”

Hayes frowned.

“Their names at least,” Jyra clarified.

“I might be able to get that information,” Hayes said. “And you’ve discovered what you know by talking to the prisoner we discussed earlier?”

Jyra felt her courage falter. She couldn’t spin the story any other way.

“Meriax is my source,” Jyra said. She could no longer speak while simultaneously maintaining eye contact.

Hayes squared her shoulders. Jyra could tell she was thinking quickly.

“I’ll get you the letterhead and see what I can do about a donor list,” Hayes said, making no effort to hide an exasperated sigh. “However, I’m putting a condition on my approval. You are trusting the word of a prisoner. If everyone on your mission dies because of her lie, she deserves the same fate. Meriax must be part of your campaign.”

“Understood.”

Hayes seized the door handle to reenter central command.

“Things have changed,” she said. “The unity in this base fractured. I hope you can restore some order. You’ve proven yourself before–” she pointed to the medal on Jyra’s lapel–“with luck you can do it again.”

Hayes disappeared through the door, leaving Jyra with her doubts. The parallels of failure between this resistance and the first grew stronger, but at least Jyra had more support this time.

*

The hammers of the metal crusher shook the walls and the floor. Jyra pressed her palms against her ears. Stout benches full of ship parts and machinery filled the salvage hall. The workers shuffled around their workstations wearing gloves, heavy boots, and grubby overalls. The hoist crew on the other end of the hall continuously fed the crusher a diet of grease and steel. Jyra waited just inside the door until someone approached. Kip pulled off his gloves and helmet, reminding Jyra of the first time she saw him. He gestured toward the hallway and they stepped into the cooler and quieter passage.

“How’s Serana?” Kip asked, looking at the floor as he scratched the back of his scalp.

“Still out,” Jyra said. “I saw her this morning.”

“Now you get to see where I spend my days,” Kip said, keeping his head down.

“At least we’re working toward something better,” Jyra said. “I spoke to Hayes two days ago.”

“What did she say?” Kip asked.

“She’s on board as much as she can be,” Jyra said. A particularly loud screech of metal made the window in the door rattle.

“How did you wind up down here?” she said. “It was after Serana left? Can’t you talk to her father?”

“He no longer accepts visitors,” Kip said.

“Why not?”

Kip leaned against the wall, his shoulders hunched as he pressed his back into the packed soil.

“Security risk,” Kip said. “According to my people.”

“Can I meet them?” Jyra asked.

Kip glanced at her, a skeptical expression twitching from chin to forehead.

“I’d like to know who they are, especially since they’ll be the main group on the mission. Meriax has to come, too.”

“Why?”

“Hayes ordered it,” Jyra said. “She wouldn’t support us otherwise.”

Kip shrugged.

“I’ve been trying to keep you two isolated,” he said after a moment.

“I wasn’t aware,” Jyra said. “As far as I knew, I could see Hayes whenever I wanted.”

“Not her,” Kip said, practically speaking into his chest. “I meant keeping you separated from my people.”

Jyra placed a hand on his shoulder and Kip stared at her. Rings of black surrounded his eyes and a crop of scrubby whiskers covered his cheeks. Jyra hardly recognized him and his appearance erased their plans from her mind.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Kip turned away and gently struck the wall with his fist.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said. “I’m trapped down here trying to get through each day. I work with you and my people when I can without raising suspicion, but it’s hard. I feel like I’m being watched all the time, and I want to destroy whoever is monitoring me. That’s the goal.”

“You think if you try to switch to some other job, it will somehow incriminate you?” Jyra asked.

Kip nodded.

“They sent me down here because I couldn’t work the old salvage line,” Kip said. “We were just scrapping out old ships but I saw burned bodies in every one. All of them had Graze’s face. Even in the vision, the flesh was so distorted by flame it would be impossible to identify anyone, but every time, I knew it was Graze. I’ve seen my share of carnage, but that damn spy is the one haunting me.”

“I see him tumbling out of the hangar in my head over and over,” Jyra said. “I can’t explain the cause anymore than I can instruct you how to feel better. But you’re a strong person and we’ll get through this. As far as being watched, we should establish a meeting place outside the base if we have to evacuate.”

“Under the hangar platform,” Kip said.

“Where I killed Graze?” Jyra said and Kip nodded.

“There’s a ladder that drops to the boulders,” he said. “Next to a ship, it’s the quickest way out of the base.”

“Deal,” Jyra said. “I need to see Dania to fill her in on the latest. Will I be able to meet your people soon?”

“I’ll arrange it,” Kip said. Jyra squeezed his shoulder.

“Stay strong and take care of yourself.”

*

Jyra knocked on Dania’s door. She heard shuffling inside and after a short delay, Dania appeared, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jyra apologized.

“It’s fine,” Dania said. “I should have told you before I slept, but I was exhausted. I spent hours searching the system and I found four ships in the yard outside the base that aren’t accounted for. If we’re lucky, we should be able to fly low enough to dodge traffic control.”

“That sounds perfect,” Jyra said. “I just spoke with Kip. Hopefully I’ll meet the crew he’s got scattered through the base. Apparently, Jarrow isn’t seeing visitors anymore. It’s too dangerous. We also have Hayes digging up all the donor names and she’s getting blank letterhead for fake intelligence reports.”

“Excellent,” Dania said, failing to stifle a yawn.

“Get some sleep,” Jyra sighed. “I should do the same.”

“Thanks for the update,” Dania said, closing her door.

Jyra set off for her quarters. She had ships, she would soon have enough people for the mission, as well as the names she needed to match in the database. Despite the progress, all she could think of was Meriax. It was tempting to offer her freedom if she cooperated, but Jyra didn’t want to reveal any sense of urgency. She had maintained an attitude of casual indifference in Meriax’s presence and dropping the act now would give the prisoner the advantage.

Jyra rounded the last corner of the passage before reaching her room. Though usually empty, she saw someone hurrying down the corridor at her. They met outside her door.

“The intake log,” Hayes said, through her flushed face and heavy breathing. She must have run all the way here.

“What about it?” Jyra asked, her voice going hollow.

“Someone tampered with it,” Hayes said, leaning against the wall. “Entire sections are redacted.”

“They’re onto us,” Jyra said, realizing her voice dropped to a whisper. She invited Hayes into her room, hoping the commander wouldn’t mind the mess.

“We need to move much faster now,” Jyra said. “Do you have any other information?”

“I do not,” Hayes said. “And there’s no time to vet my list of mission candidates.”

“I didn’t know we vetted them,” Jyra said.

“We do now,” Hayes said. “Do you have enough people?”

Jyra thought of Kip. Regardless of his wishes, she would be meeting his group much sooner than anticipated. She nodded.

“How much time do we have?” Jyra asked.

“No idea,” Hayes said. “I can double the rounds of security patrols, but there are still other exits the donors could use.

“Cover as many as you can,” Jyra said. “I need to rest for a couple hours before I can begin this mission.”

“You’re going to sleep?” Hayes asked.

“It won’t do to infiltrate enemy compounds when one is tired,” Jyra said. “Meet back here in four hours and we’ll go from there. I’ll need to retrieve Meriax from her cell.”

Hayes gripped Jyra’s hand for a moment before she slipped through the door.

Jyra sat on her mattress, exhausted but never more awake.

Despite the adrenaline, Jyra lay back on her pillow and kicked her boots loose. She heard them clump to a heap on the floor. She pushed herself up to turn off the lights, but a grunt of pain from the corridor diverted her attention. Jyra had no time to react before the door burst open and a figure leapt at her, closing fingers around her neck.

Part XXXII: Grenade

The assailant wore a black balaclava and a tinted eye visor. Jyra thrashed against her mattress, wondering who had her pinned and how much longer she could withstand the fingers crushing her throat. The assailant leaned close enough for her to hear ragged breathing; it sounded like a man behind the mask.

Beyond her struggle, Jyra heard scuffling and shouts from the corridor. A dry wheeze almost sounded like words. Jyra couldn’t tell if the noise came from her mouth or another. The assailant adjusted his grip. One of his fingers pressed against the chain of the locket around Jyra’s neck. Watering eyes blinded her vision, but Jyra heard two quick footsteps and the assailant released her, a grotesque, sputtering howl piercing through the balaclava.

Jyra rolled over, barely conscious, as her attacker fell to his knees, his arms scrabbling in vain for the knife lodged just out of reach below his shoulder blades.

A kick to the chin knocked the assailant onto his back, and he moved no more, like an insect stuck to a board in a display case. Someone knelt before Jyra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you all right?”

Jyra shook her head, unable to speak.

“Not to worry,” a man’s voice said. “We got the squad that came after you–” he glanced at the body on the floor–“barely.”

“I know you,” Jyra wheezed.

“Call me Tony,” he said. “You got to meet me before I got to meet you.”

Shiny burn marks covered Tony’s hands and his face bore several scars, but Jyra also saw the similarity to Dania in his coarse hair and thin mouth.

“All clear?” someone asked from the corridor. Jyra knew that voice too, except it sounded more strained than usual.

“Clear,” Tony said. “She’s hurt. Nearly choked out.”

Jyra knew it was him before Kip stepped into view and Tony pushed back from the mattress.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered. “I just need a moment.”

Kip’s forehead glistened with sweat above his wide eyes. He clutched a short rifle across his chest, but one of his hands distracted Jyra immediately.

“Blood,” she murmured, pointing at her friend’s red-stained fingers.

“Not mine,” he said gently. He took a deep breath and turned his attention to a rustling on the floor. Jyra looked too as Tony pulled the balaclava and visor off the assailant’s face.

Jyra tried to sit up, but Kip motioned her back to her pillow.

“What is it?” he asked.

“That man,” Jyra whispered. “He’s a donor named Dovens.”

“You’re certain?” Kip asked sharply.

“He challenged me in a donor meeting,” Jyra said.

“Further confirmation of who we’re up against,” Tony said.

“What is happening?” Jyra said.

“The donors betrayed the resistance,” Kip said. “We’ve been too lenient for too long. Masked squads are ransacking the base, sabotaging equipment and killing officers.”

He glanced from Dovens to Jyra.

“Nearly claimed another.”

Jyra suddenly coupled the blood on Kip’s hand with grunt she heard in the hallway.

“Is Commander Hayes all right?”

The answer hung in the silence. Kip swallowed hard and Jyra felt as though she might sink infinitely into her mattress.

“It looks as though the entire squad attacked her at once,” Kip said. “We were seconds behind them. She killed one in the struggle, but the rest overpowered her.”

“Squads are still marauding?” Jyra asked.

Tony nodded.

“They must be stopped,” Jyra said.

“We need to keep you safe,” Kip implored. “Rest until you’re ready to move. Dania’s got ships lined up. We’ll stop as many donors on the way out as we can.”

Jyra placed her hands on the mattress and pushed herself into a sitting position.

“You can’t be ready yet,” Tony protested.

“You have black bruises on your neck,” Kip added. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Do not question me, gentlemen,” Jyra said, pushing her hair aside as she leaned down to pull her boots on. She felt the presence of something besides blood circulating beneath her skin.

“The donors do not wait for rest and I will not rest during their betrayal,” she continued. She slid off the bed and tugged her duffel out from beneath it.

“Excuse me for a moment and take the corpse with you.” The men left without another word, dragging Dovens behind them.

Jyra exchanged her issued uniform for a button up shirt and a pair of lightweight trousers. She also pulled her brother’s dagger from her duffel. It still smelled of the smoke that coiled though Dario’s room as flames consumed the walls. She pushed it into a deep pocket just above her knee and made sure the duffel contained all the necessary contents before she zipped it shut.

Jyra shouldered her bag and felt the strap cut into her shoulder. She waited for the pain, the unbearable strain against skin and muscle, but it never came.

Five paces took her to the corridor, but Jyra wasn’t prepared for the scene. Kip’s team had piled the defeated squadron of donor bodies on the far wall, but Hayes remained where she fell in the middle of the passage. Upon seeing her still form, Jyra dropped her duffel and went back into her room. She seized her discarded uniform and pulled her medal free of the lapel. The journey from her quarters to Hayes’ side never seemed to end. When Jyra finally reached the commander’s body, grief pushed her to her knees. As she wept and felt the bulk of Hayes beneath her hand, Jyra thought of her brother, her parents, and Macnelia, the loss of them seeming to have occurred in a different life.

Jyra released Hayes’ sleeve the moment her tears yielded to anger. Even in death, Hayes retained her dignity and stoicism. Her half scowl remained on her face. Jyra realized everyone was watching her, awaiting instruction.

“How many squadrons are between us and our ships?” Jyra asked. It took Kip a moment to realize she addressed him.

“By the latest estimates, twenty or thirty,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but his wide eyes and sweaty brow betrayed him.

“Then that’s how many we kill,” Jyra said. “But we have other work to do first.”

*

Ten minutes later, Jyra and Kip descended toward the holding cells, arguing in hushed voices. Both of them clutched their weapons as they peered ahead into the darkness.

“She knows where to go,” Jyra said. “She can navigate the facility better than any of us.”

“She says she knows,” Kip said. “This is a risk we don’t have time for.”

“We’re nearly there and this will be done quicker than the major mission you just organized. It’s not even who they should be trying to save.”

“I keep telling you, Serana is safe,” Kip said. “The ward is sealed and I have two guards posted. We fabricated several orders detailing Serana’s relocation. They won’t find her. Jarrow, however, is much more vulnerable. The donors know where he lives.”

“Will you support this mission if I support yours?” Jyra asked, adjusting the duffel strap on her shoulder. It didn’t feel as heavy as it used to.

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Kip said flatly.

“I told Hayes that Meriax would be part of the mission to track down the donor database,” Jyra said.

“She’s gone.”

“So you see why I need to bring Meriax,” Jyra said.

Kip didn’t reply as they shuffled onward. Jyra couldn’t help wondering if they made a wrong turn, though the passage only led to the holding cells. Up ahead, the dim glow from the overhead lights ceased and it took several more paces before the gate appeared, shrouded in shadow.

“These lights are usually on,” Jyra said in a reflexive whisper. Muffled cracks sounded beneath their cautious footsteps.

“The glass from the lamps,” Kip said, keeping his voice low, too. He directed his rifle straight ahead. They inched their way toward the gate. Jyra wanted to take great gulps of air, but she fought to keep her breaths inaudible.

By the time they reached the gate, their eyes had adjusted to the near total darkness. A faint light glowed further down the passage. Jyra noticed a shape against the wall beyond the gate as she swung the duffel off her shoulder. It took her a moment to recognize the outstretched arm upon the dirt. The gatekeeper lay still where he landed facedown.

Jyra forced herself to cast a sideways glance at Kip, who had disappeared. She spun around and then felt him move below her. He stood from his crouch before the gate.

“Don’t do that,” Jyra hissed. “This is stressful enough. Didn’t you notice someone murdered the gatekeeper?”

Kip peered though the bars and drew back with a low breath.

“Either on purpose or when they shot out the lights,” he said.

“Does it matter?” Jyra said. Kip only shook his head stiffly in reply and stared straight down the corridor beyond the gate. Jyra looked from the gatekeeper’s wrinkled hand spread on the dirt and then back to Kip’s resolute focus away from the body.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Shame pushed fear aside as she recalled her meeting with Kip near the scrap line.

“Someone started cutting the lock,” he said, his jaw set along with his gaze.

Jyra leaned down squinting and saw the shiny groove carved into the shank.

“They’re trying to get Meriax,” Jyra said, standing up and glancing behind her.

“And what do you think they’ll do then?” Kip asked. The exasperation in his tone vanished. Fear replaced impatience.

“Doesn’t matter. If they want her, it’s even more important that we take her,” Jyra said, tightening her grip on her brother’s dagger.

“I don’t have a grinder or saw,” Kip said, nodding at the lock.

“Whoever comes back will have the necessary tools,” Jyra said.

Kip produced a watch and shook his head.

“We can’t wait here indefinitely,” he said.

“Good, I don’t think we should do that either.”

“Who knows when they’ll come back?”

“We’ll find out,” Jyra said, putting her back against the gate and staring up the passage toward the dim light.

“Jyra, we are on a time limit here,” Kip said.

At the sound of her name, Jyra thought of Serana, the previous resistance, and her family. She stared at the ground, trying to identify the variety of footprints in the soft earth. She wondered if a pair of narrow pointed prints might have belonged to Charis when she confronted the gatekeeper. It was impossible to tell how many people had just been at the gate and how many might be returning.

“Try your rifle.”

“What?” Kip said.

Jyra stepped to the side of the passage.

“Shoot the lock,” she said.

“So the shrapnel can kill us instead of whoever’s coming back?”

“Step away first,” Jyra said, taking his arm.

Kip followed her lead and turned back toward the lock after several paces.

“Why don’t you just shatter the lock with your fist?” Kip grumbled before aiming into the gloom. Jyra pressed her fingers into her ears. Kip fired four shots. Both of them glanced up the passage as the last echoes of the gunfire faded.

Jyra made for the gate, paused, and pushed it open. The lock shank lay on the dirt in two pieces. Jyra beckoned to Kip who trotted forward, examining his rifle, apparently taken aback that he managed to breach the gate.

Jyra knelt next to the gatekeeper, but she confirmed his death the moment she placed a hand on his back. His blood was cold, but still wet. Jyra raised her hand and she looked to Kip who nodded and raised his own stained fingers.

“The cowards shoot people in the back,” he said.

“We have to hurry,” Jyra said, burying her grief.

They found the gatekeeper’s keys in the dirt nearby and moved toward the dim light. They reached the door of Meriax’s cell.

“You didn’t know you could shoot out a lock?” Meriax asked, an incredulous eyebrow elevated. “The people before didn’t have a gun large enough to do the job.”

“Not a problem now,” Jyra said, raising the keys.

“So you’re going to free me?” Meriax said, feigned surprise glowing in her eyes. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.“

Jyra pushed the key into the lock, turned it, and opened the door to Meriax’s cell. As she took a step forward, Jyra leaned in and punched the prisoner squarely in the chin.

Meriax fell straight onto her back and, for the first time, Jyra saw an expression of genuine shock.

“I didn’t know I was going to do that,” Jyra said, flexing her knuckles. “We’ve risked a lot to get you so keep your voice in your head and move out. You say a word and this goes in your back.” She brandished her dagger as Meriax got up, massaging her chin. Nothing but indifference showed on her face and Jyra immediately remembered how uncomfortable she felt witnessing Serana’s cruel exchange with Meriax. At least Serana hadn’t physically harmed the prisoner.

Thoughts for another time, Jyra told herself.

They set off. Jyra wished they could do something to honor the gatekeeper, or at least move his body to the side of the passage, but any delay only increased their chance of meeting the same end. Kip walked directly behind Meriax and Jyra hoisted her duffel onto her shoulder before beginning the long climb.

Jyra kept her weapon ready in one hand. Twice, it sounded like voices were traveling toward them, but no one ever appeared. The trio made it back to the main corridor without difficulty. Jyra looked at the narrow opening from which she had just emerged. It had been cut into the main corridor wall meticulously and the entrance sat in shadow. Jyra thought of Serana again, recalling when she helped her move to her new quarters via the old passages.

“Keep an eye on her would you?” Kip said, interrupting Jyra’s thoughts. “I need to check on progress with Jarrow.” He pulled a small device from inside his tactical vest.

“How does that work?” Jyra asked. “I thought the mist disrupts the signal.”

“Extremely low frequency,” Kip said. “Takes a long time to send messages but it gets the job done.”

He sensed Jyra’s indignation before she could say a word.

“Tony and a couple other folks designed them,” Kip said. “They finished calibrating two hours ago. Believe me, if we’d had these transmitters a week ago, you’d already have one.”

“Any chance we can get back to my quarters?” Jyra said.

“It’s risky,” Kip said. “Did you forget something important?”

“There’s an entrance to the old passages near it,” Jyra said. “No one uses them anymore. We could reach an exit that way without encountering enemies.”

“I thought you wanted to kill as many squads as possible?”

“Save our ammunition,” Jyra said. “We’ll need plenty when we storm the compound.”

“As you wish,” Kip said. “I’ll tell the others to meet there.”

He composed a message as they set off. Jyra made Meriax walk in front of her. She kept her dagger ready in case the prisoner tried to run. Anxiety swelled as they approached every twist in the corridor. Jyra couldn’t believe how fearful she felt in this place she once regarded as a safe haven. Meriax glanced over her shoulder, her vivid eyes shining against her grubby skin and hair. She curled her bare toes against the compacted dirt with ever step. Jyra found herself listening to the prisoner’s gentle footfalls. Perhaps that was why she noticed the sudden silence behind her.

Kip stared at his transmitter and his boots dragged over the ground before he leaned against the wall.

“He’s dead,” Kip said. “Jarrow is dead. They got to him first.” Jyra raised her dagger toward Meriax, reminding herself that she had to remain strong. Meriax need witness only a hint of weakness and she would flee. Nevertheless, Jarrow filled Jyra’s mind. For all he’d been through, he maintained both his humor and cunning nature. Questions lit up like flares as Jyra wondered how the donors managed to break into his room. Kip mentioned he hadn’t been receiving visitors due to security concerns.

Thoughts of Jarrow yielded quickly as Jyra thought of Serana. They couldn’t leave her behind now.

“If they can get to Jarrow, they can get to Serana,” Jyra said, trying to keep the quiver from her voice. She let the duffel fall to her side.

“We planted misleading information,” Kip said.

“Claiming her relocation?” Jyra said, shaking her head. “Where to? That’s exactly what the donors will ask. One way or another, they’ll find out where she’s at. We can’t leave without her. Can you send a message to the guards?”

“I have to speak to them in person,” Kip said. “They won’t stand down until I give the word.”

“We’d better hurry then,” Jyra said.

“I don’t–” Kip began but Meriax cut him off.

“Someone’s coming,” she whispered urgently, sliding back against the wall. Jyra did the same and kept her dagger pointed at the prisoner.

“Sure you’re quick enough with that?” Meriax asked, nodding at the blade.

“Shut up or we’ll find out,” Jyra hissed.

Kip crept to her side, the rifle already aimed at the bend in the corridor. The approaching footsteps grew louder and shadows appeared on the floor, racing to the other side of the passage and climbing the wall.

They rounded the corner and Kip fired. Jyra jerked in shock as the rifle roared. One round dropped two of the bodies. Kip pivoted to fire on the third and last figure who drew a handgun. Kip shot again but his aim went wide. Jyra felt the pull as the dagger left her fingers. She saw Meriax’s arm outstretched and watched the handgun drop along with its owner. It took Jyra a moment to connect Meriax’s throwing arm with the dagger that lodged in the man’s chest. Jyra couldn’t understand why she froze. She slumped to the floor, keeping her back against the wall. Not only had she done nothing to defend herself, Meriax stole a weapon out of her hand. As if to compound her shame, Kip offered his hand to pull her up and nodded at the dagger.

“Nice shot,” he said with a smile.

“Wasn’t me,” Jyra said.

Kip jerked his rifle upward so the barrel nearly struck Meriax in the neck.

“What?” Meriax shrugged, reacting as if Kip pointed nothing more than an accusing finger at her. “The blade is over there.”

Meriax made an exaggerated gesture to the dagger in the fallen foe.

“You tell me right now what you’re after,” Kip said, his lips curved into a snarl. “What are you? A spy? An enemy? What? Fail to answer and I pull the trigger.”

Jyra snapped to her senses and retrieved her weapon. She joined Kip at his side and saw Meriax gazing at the ground.

“I just want to live,” Meriax said. “That’s what I’m after.”

“Keep talking,” Kip said.

“Have you ever considered the idea that more than one type of spy exists?”

Kip rotated the bolt on the rifle but Jyra held up a hand to stop him.

“What do you mean?” Jyra asked.

“The donors are spies and I’m a spy,” Meriax said. “Why then were they trying to kill me?”

“You’re both hired by the Allied Hospitals,” Kip said.

“Correct,” Meriax said. “The hospitals own nearly everything on this planet, including spies. There’s at least one from every planet in the galaxy.”

“How many of your fellow spies are in the base?” Jyra asked.

“Depends how many you’ve killed.”

“Let’s say none have died,” Jyra said. “It’s day one when you infiltrated the base. How many of you where there?”

“Maybe fifteen,” Meriax said.

“This is fascinating,” Kip interjected. “But we need to move now if we’re going to have a shot at rescuing Serana.”

“Agreed,” Jyra said. She hoisted her duffel onto her shoulder again. The trio set off with refreshed purpose.

“If you aren’t affiliated with the donors, why would you know about a database with all of their information?” Jyra asked as they ascended a staircase.

“The place where I trained is also a major data center for the hospitals,” Meriax explained. “But if I found myself in a compromised situation like this, one of the things they taught me was don’t give up information that keeps you alive.”

“You don’t have to talk, but moving faster would be best,” Kip said, taking steps two at a time behind the women. “We’ve already wasted enough time freeing you.”

Jyra no longer kept her dagger drawn. The knowledge that Meriax wasn’t aligned with the donors brought significant relief. Jyra couldn’t help but wonder how Jarrow didn’t see the connection between the donors and spies in the base. Now, he couldn’t answer any questions.

They left the stairs and proceeded down another long passage. Jyra recognized the lighter shade of the surrounding soil. The medical ward entrance finally came into view. Two guards stood on either side of the door. Each one dropped a hand to their hips, but once Kip stepped in front of the two women, the guards froze.

“Why are you still here?” one of them called.

“Plans changed,” Kip replied. “We’re taking her now.”

“She’s still in the ward,” the second guard said once the three gathered before them. The guards each wore armored black vests that matched their dark trousers and heavy shirts. Their helmets looked more like upended soup bowls on their heads than anything else. The first guard had droopy eyelids and shoulders to match. The second guard’s perpetually knitted eyebrows made him appear constantly concerned.

“I certainly hope she’s still in there,” Kip said. “This is Jyra and our prisoner Meriax,” he added, before pointing to the first guard. “This is Barlen and this is Yoke.”

“Are we coming with you, too?” Barlen asked.

“Wouldn’t bother introducing you if you weren’t,” Kip said. “Let us pass.”

Barlen and Yoke shifted and unsealed the door. While Kip filled the guards in about the new plan, Jyra proceeded down the brightly-lit corridor. She paused to take a deep breath before glancing into the window of her friend’s room.

Serana looked much the same since the last time Jyra saw her. Carefully, Jyra opened the door and crept to the edge of the bed, setting her duffel on the ground. The color in Serana’s skin had improved and her vital signs were strong as best as Jyra could tell from the monitors. She bit her lip as she surveyed the multiple medical apparatuses surrounding the bed. The moment she suggested taking Serana, she knew they would have to wheel her out in her bed. Now that she faced everything in the room, Jyra wasn’t sure what, if anything, could be left behind.

The door opened and Kip appeared with Meriax and the two guards.

“What do we take?” Jyra whispered, trying to minimize the desperation in her voice.

Kip kept his gun on Meriax and Yoke stepped forward. He crossed behind Jyra, knelt next to the bed, and began pulling cords loose. Screens flickered and went blank.

“He’s a medic assistant,” Kip said quietly. “I thought someone with knowledge of care should protect her.”

Jyra managed exchange a smile with Kip to show her appreciation, but her worries weren’t far behind.

“How difficult will it be to move her?” she whispered.

Yoke got to his feet and brushed his hands off on his vest.

“Difficult,” he said, before walking to the other side of the bed. He disappeared behind the mattress and more screens went dark. Several control pads mounted to the bed also lost power. Serana’s eyelids fluttered.

Yoke crowded additional IV bags suspended on the wall onto the bed-mounted pole. Serana rolled her head against her pillow.

“What’s she doing?” Jyra asked.

Yoke glanced at Serana and finished securing the IVs.

“Beginning to wake up,” he said gruffly. “Long way to go yet. That’s it,” he added. “Check the cabinets for her belongings and any additional medical supplies.”

Kip kept Meriax in check while the others quickly scoured the room. Jyra found the outfit Serana had been wearing hanging in the narrow closet. It appeared to be one of her flight suits, though the upper half looked as though someone carved it into strips and set it on fire.

“Time to go,” Kip said. “We’ll try the old passages.”

Barlen joined Yoke at the head of the bed and pushed it away from the wall. The wheels cut into the dirt. Jyra slung the duffel strap around the end of the bedrail and tugged. By the time they got the bed out into the corridor, the three of them were sweating. Kip ordered Meriax to assist at gunpoint.

Jyra nearly giving Kip a disapproving stare. She’s the enemy, Jyra reminded herself. Meriax seized the same bedrail and pulled. The bed lurched forward and Jyra had to leap out of the way to keep the bed from striking her. Barlen and Yoke nearly cracked their chins on the headboard as they fell to the packed floor of the corridor.

“Take it easy,” Yoke said. “The slower she wakes, the better. No need to accelerate the process.”

Would this be easier if Serana were asleep or awake? Jyra wondered, but then she thought of Jarrow. They moved the bed again, with greater ease due to Meriax’s assistance. They rolled it halfway down the corridor, but Jyra focused on Serana’s face, lost in her features. Both her and Serana knew what it was like to lose a mother. She thought her father was gone, Jyra thought. Now he is for real. By pushing the thought back, she had to acknowledge it, but she didn’t want to think of it: how would Serana react to the awful news? How Serana managed to do her job under so much pressure, how the spies were allowed into the base–none of it mattered. Sleep now, but wake up soon, Jyra thought fiercely as the bed slid out of the ward.

“They’re diverting,” Kip said.

“What do you mean?” Jyra asked.

They had one more level to go, tugging the bed toward the entrance to the old passages.

“Squads are cutting them off as they try to reach us,” Kip reported. “At least twelve different enemy clusters.”

“That’s close to half the squads from your highest estimate,” Jyra said.

“You think we go for a direct exit?” Kip said.

“Where’s the nearest one from here?” Jyra asked.

“I suggest we head for the old passages,” Meriax said.

“When we want to hear from you, we’ll request it,” Kip snarled.

“What makes you say that?” Jyra asked the prisoner.

“There’s an exit you probably don’t know about,” Meriax said.

“And by exit you mean an enemy squad,” Barlen said.

“Wouldn’t you like to see where the spies got into your base?” Meriax said, her vibrant eyes fixed on Jyra’s.

“It will put us farther from the ships, won’t it?” she asked.

“Yes, but from there the trip is downhill–” Meriax gave the incline beneath her toes a significant glance–“and no squads will stand in our way.”

“The rest of our team is already heading for the old passage entrance, right?” Jyra asked Kip.

“They are, but it’s proving difficult,” Kip said. “That said, if we all scattered and moved ships to new locations, we could rendezvous later.”

“Any communication from ships could be intercepted by the enemy too easily,” Jyra said. “I hate to even consider the choice, but either the rest of the teams make it to the old passage or we go without them.”

Kip stared at the ground then looked from Meriax to Jyra.

“Lead on,” he said with a half-hearted gesture to proceed.

“Kip, these are your people,” Jyra said. “This is your decision.”

“My trust is with you,” Kip said. “I can’t absolve you of the responsibility. That’s the way it is. Serana is out for now and as far as I’m concerned, you’re second in command. I await your decision.”

What Jyra first took to be a glare she recognized as a solemn expression of loyalty. It was the only permission she needed.

“We stick to the plan,” she said. “We make for the old passages, wait for the rest of the team, and move out together.”

They took a longer route to avoid the staircase. The bed creaked and shook, swaying on the uneven ground. Fortunately, gravity handled most of the load on inclines. Jyra turned into a familiar corridor and found nothing but silence.

The memorial torches still burned by Hayes’ body in the middle of the corridor. They distracted Jyra and she nearly walked right by the entrance to the old passages. She wished they could put Hayes’ body on the bed as well, but the loose soil in the original tunnels would slow them down even more. The wheels cut so far into the main corridors, the axles shredded the dirt as well. And the wheels weren’t the only problem.

It took only a moment to notice once they lined the bed up with the entrance to the old passages that it was too wide.

“Get the sheets loose,” Yoke said. “We’ll have to carry her. There’s no other option.”

“Reroute the team?” Barlen suggested, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Kip shook his head.

“The time it takes to transmit isn’t worth it,” he said. “We’ve established a plan and changed it too many times already. They’re still a few minutes out if all has gone well. Serana has to travel without her bed. Get her ready for the journey.”

Yoke pulled the IV bags off the pole and Jyra retrieved her duffel from the foot of the bed.

“She’ll be all right?” Jyra asked Yoke, hoping she didn’t sound too nervous.

“As long as a waiting ship has adequate medical capability, yes,” Yoke said. “Escaping from here without further injury would also be useful.”

Jyra gave a grim smile and loosened the sheets from the mattress. As gently as they could, she, Yoke, and Barlen swung Serana free of her bed. With the IV bags lashed to the strap of his vest, Yoke led the way into the passages.

Jyra heard Meriax start to speak and Kip cut her off.

“Wait here,” Jyra said as they set Serana on the soft earth.

Jyra dropped her duffel and headed for the main corridor where she saw Kip forcing Meraix at gunpoint into the old passages.

“One more word,” he warned.

“What’s happening?” Jyra asked as she saw the plea in Meriax’s eyes.

“Blathering about noises,” Kip said, but Meriax overrode him.

“The others are coming and they’re in trouble,” she gasped.

Kip prepared to jab her in the back with his rifle but Jyra stopped him.

“She’s trying to help,” Jyra said.

“How?” Kip asked. “She’s trying to throw us off more like.”

“She wants to survive just like the rest of us,” Jyra said.

“Our people,” Kip said, fixing Meriax with a derisive stare. “Where are they?”

“The next corridor beyond this one,” she replied. “You’ll hear them soon.”

Jyra leaned back from Meriax, surveying her like an exhibit in a museum.

“They did you too,” she heard herself say.

Meriax directed her attention to the floor. Jyra thought of how Meriax heard her conversation with the gatekeeper. Now, she heard enemies approaching around the corner before Jyra or Kip.

“What is it?” Kip asked, adjusting the grip on his rifle.

“The hospitals experimented on her, too,” Jyra said. “Just like me. Just like you.”

Kip lowered his weapon and he kept his jaw set. He opened his mouth but no words emerged.

“We can swap stories about what happened to us later,” Meriax said. “Your teams are about to appear with plenty of opposition right behind them.”

Kip and Jyra exchanged glances, confirming neither one heard approaching footsteps.

“We need to fortify our position,” Meriax said.

Jyra took three strides to the edge of the bed abandoned in the main corridor and, with minimal effort, threw it onto its side.

“Besides the passage, this is the only cover we get,” Jyra said.

Several quick shots blasted in succession. Kip, Jyra, and Meriax instinctively crouched behind the bed. Hushed voices, the clatter of steel against armor, and the scuffing of boots on the floor heralded the arrival of the teams. They wore similar uniforms to Yoke and Barlen, the latter of whom took his post just inside the passage, preparing to open fire. Several members of the team limped onward assisted by comrades. Kip stood and beckoned toward the old passage entrance.

“Stay low, stay low, he whispered. “The walls won’t stop enemy fire.”

“That’s how I got hit,” a man hissed as he limped past, keeping one knee locked. The more people appeared, the faster they moved. Gunfire roared from around the corner and everyone in sight broke into a run. Jyra pulled Kip down as the oncoming horde vaulted over the bed, keen for the most direct route to safety.

Almost the moment it began, the stampede subsided as the last few members of the team sought position to return fire.

“All teams, fall back!” Kip bellowed, peering over the mattress. Another round from unseen guns and one of the figures dressed in black keeled forward.

The remaining few ran for it. Jyra saw shadows moving around the distant corner.

“To the center!” Kip ordered. The runners shifted into single file. Barlen hefted a shotgun around the corner. Kip aimed his rifle past the edge of the bed.

A masked donor leapt into view and took a wild shot that blew a cloud of dust and dirt from the floor. Barlen double-checked to ensure the runners were out of range before he fired a reply. By that time, at least twenty more people swarmed the corridor. Their weapons sang as the runners dived behind the bed, which shuddered as bullets tore into the automation machinery of the lower frame.

Jyra helped get the others into the passage. Barlen and Kip fired another round before retreating. No one said a word as they fell back. When they reached the small alcove where Jyra left Yoke with Serana, the scene had changed dramatically. A group of about thirty individuals, all wearing black armor, plugged the passage. Yoke beckoned to Jyra and she made her way through the crowd.

He managed to keep everyone back from Serana’s body, partially wrapped in the bed sheet. He had also pulled Jyra’s duffel to his side.

“What’s the plan?” he asked over the hiss of whispered conversations. Jyra looked back the way she had come, searching for Kip. The moment she saw him, Barlen grabbed him by the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Kip’s eyes grew wide in the dim light.

“Everyone,” he announced. His voice felt cold against Jyra’s ears. “We need to move now. Keep it orderly and we won’t lose any more comrades than we have already. Jyra and Meriax, move to the head of the line and lead us out.”

Jyra shouldered her duffel and glanced around for Meriax and she appeared nearby, her pale hair and eyes shining in the gloom. The old passages and the corridor to the holding cells possessed a similar aesthetic.

“Maybe he’s beginning to trust you,” Jyra said.

“I doubt it,” Meriax said. “Whatever the hospital tested on him, it seems like it made him paranoid.”

“Isn’t it nice to share something so miserable?” Jyra said, realizing she had accidentally exposed information about Kip that didn’t need to be shared.

Shots echoed from the main corridor.

“You heard him,” Jyra said to Meriax. “Show me that exit you know so much about.”

They pushed through the throng and set off. Jyra recalled walking the opposite direction with Serana through this exact passage on her way to her new quarters. Once they began moving at the head of the line, Jyra dropped back, confident that Meriax wouldn’t have any escape routes available for some time. She glanced at the faces around her and finally located Kip.

“What did Barlen tell you?” she asked. Kip stared straight ahead, but the crinkles above his brow revealed his anxiety.

“One of the donors has grenades,” Kip said, hardly above a whisper. “Barlen is certain he saw a man with a full bandolier of them. We should pick up the pace,” he added. “I don’t want to be in this tunnel when an explosive goes off.”

Jyra negotiated her way to the front of the all but silent crowd. She moved ahead of Meriax, trying to increase the pace, but the prisoner held her speed. Jyra didn’t know how long she tried to accelerate the departure, but she stopped before she nearly strode into a wall.

“Good save,” Meriax said.

Jyra glanced at the wall before her and the two possible pathways. In that moment, Jyra remembered Serana pausing at this very intersection. Jyra had asked Serana about why her father called her Twenty-Six. Jyra surveyed the ground and saw the tracks in the dirt she had made with Serana on the way to her new room. The third passage she hadn’t entered summoned her attention.

“Is this the way out?” Jyra asked.

“Or the way in,” Meriax said with a smile. “Depends who you are.”

More gunfire sounded behind them. Kip appeared at Jyra’s side, bellowing orders.

“They’re closing too fast!” he shouted. “Keep the wounded moving out. Everyone else form up.”

Kip pressed a handgun into Jyra’s hands and clutched her arm before he set off toward the enemy. Several injured comrades continued down the passage while the others all pressed against the wall. Jyra followed Kip, her heart slamming against her chest with each step.

She found him, back to the wall like the others. Jyra leaned out of range of the firearms behind her. She held the weapon, feeling sweat gather between her finger and the trigger.

Nothing moved in the gloom beyond and silence replaced gunfire. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the passage. Jyra swallowed hard just as something glinted in the low light around the distant bend in the passage.

A flash of light and the shot roared. Dirt exploded from the wall above Jyra. Kip fired in return and more enemy guns appeared. The comrades unloaded several rounds at once. Dust and smoke filled the passage, obscuring the attackers. The coughs of several donors waded through the thick cloud.

Jyra stared at the ceiling as smoke coiled around the last light fixture that allowed her to see. At that moment, something sailed in front of the lamp. Jyra dropped the gun and pushed off the wall. She leapt into the dust and felt her hand close around the grenade. As she landed on the floor of the passage she threw the explosive as hard as she could.

“Retreat!” Kip shouted.

Jyra heard activity and the clatter of colliding armor. A hand closed on her shoulder and pulled her upright. She ran for the exit, taking only a few steps before the force of an explosion slammed her into the wall and she slid to the floor.

Stay tuned for Part XXXIII

Part XXXIII: Reunited

A squad of donors stood above her. Jyra saw only their silhouettes, until two stepped into the light. Charis, her thick hair framed a triumphant expression, and Dovens, his best sneer in place, each pointed a gun at Jyra.

“Together?” Charis said with casual indifference.

“On three, Ms. Biggs,” Dovens said, nodding.

Jyra didn’t hear the count, just the gunfire and her eyes snapped open. She gasped for air and sucked in a mouthful of soil. She heard the scurry of feet nearby and the patter of falling dirt. She turned her head and saw two people crouched over piles, the remains of the passage walls. They plunged their hands into the dirt and shook their heads before moving on.

“She’s not here,” one of them whispered.

Several gunshots rang through the passage. Jyra tried to roll onto her side, but she hit an obstruction.

“Fall back!” someone yelled.

Jyra pushed herself up on her elbows and surveyed her arms. So much dust had settled on her, she might as well be part of the wall.

“I’m here!” she called. Jyra choked and spat a clump of mud from her mouth. She yelled again. Beating footsteps were the only reply.

“Too many,” an out-of-breath voice said.

Jyra threw an arm toward the middle of the passage where it promptly met a pair of boots. The owner toppled.

“I’m here!” Jyra repeated.

“Jyra!” Kip’s voice was recognizable even through his disbelief. His hand closed on hers and he pulled her upright.

“I hope you can walk because we have to move. Go ahead of me,” he added to his comrade.

Dust covered Kip’s face and he looked ten years older. He still clutched his rifle and a familiar, though dusty, duffel, which he handed over. His eyes were wild with adrenaline or anxiety, Jyra couldn’t tell which, but she had to run as he pulled her through the passage. She coughed and her knees nearly gave way under the weight of her duffel, but the stale air suddenly disappeared. The confined feeling of the tunnel evaporated.

Only when she felt the tug of the wind against her sleeves did Jyra understand she escaped the base. She dug the gritty soil from her eyes with her fingers and tipped her head back, relishing the tapestry of stars overhead.

She immediately looked at Kip. Despite the dust, she saw his hair glowing in the starlight. He glanced at her then nodded toward the trees. Jyra made for the forest, watching the flowing rivers of mist winding through the valleys.

Kip followed a few steps behind. Jyra tried to stay focused on her footing as she picked her way between boulders. It seemed the donors might ambush them at any moment.

“What happened?” Jyra asked.

“A grenade collapsed part of the passage,” Kip said. “They’ll dig through it soon and continue the pursuit.”

“What about the rest of our team?” Jyra asked.

“All ahead of us,” Kip said. “They should be boarding the ships now.”

They crept over stones and weather-beaten soil. Neither of them could resist glancing behind, waiting to see if a donor squadron would appear. They saw no threat by the time they reached the forest and the trees closed around them. Fallen pine needles softened their footsteps as they began a steep descent through the quiet darkness.

Jyra didn’t dare open her mouth to ask further questions. She adjusted the duffel on her shoulder, thinking of the passages and caverns beneath her feet, wondering if she would ever see them again.

Perhaps the thirtieth time Jyra looked over her shoulder up the slope, she saw beams of light flickering among the boulders.

“They’re on our trail,” Jyra whispered. “At least you can slow them down.”

Kip glanced back and shook his head.

“No ammo on me,” he muttered. “We should be close. I’d hoped to hear—”

He didn’t even finish for the roar of engines below suspended the tranquility. Kip jogged by Jyra.

“Don’t want to miss the transports,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Jyra felt her stomach tighten at the notion of the ships departing before they boarded. She stumbled as a clump of pine needles slid under her boot. The lights above them seemed to be closing in at twice the rate they were traveling.

“There!” Kip hissed, pointing through the trees. The clearing full of ships, the one Jyra had seen when Serana first brought her to the base, was easy to discern straight ahead. The running lights of three ships lit up the night. The moment they stepped into the clearing, a glow in the sky drew Jyra’s attention.

“What’s that?” she yelled above the din.

“Nothing but distraction!” Kip replied, pressing toward the ships.

“In the sky!” Jyra said, aware that Kip hadn’t even looked.

“Here!” he shouted and motioned for Jyra to follow. Dania stood inside an open bay door of an old emergency transport. They couldn’t hear her as she spoke because of the thundering engines, but stepped in beside her just the same.

The bay door retracted and sealed, plunging the hold into relative silence compared to the noise outside.

“Serana and Meriax?” Jyra gasped at once.

“Both on board,” Dania said. “I need to speak to the pilot.” She disappeared into the gloom.

Egress lighting provided the only illumination. The eerie red glow allowed Jyra to see people shifting against the walls, struggling to find comfort. Everyone projected a unique silhouette; unlike a traditional army, each soldier had made their own uniform and armor. Despite the faint light, oiled metal and polished leather flashed as people shifted where they stood.

The floor beneath them lurched. The moment they began to rise, a sporadic clinking noise soared above the engine growl.

“Hopefully they’ve got nothing bigger than that to shoot at us,” Kip grumbled in Jyra’s ear.

She wasn’t sure how long they were airborne before Dania approached.

“Bad news,” she said. Jyra could tell she was trying to keep her voice down. She and Kip leaned closer.

“The squads shot the last ship down as it was taking off. Sounds like seven or eight were aboard.”

Jyra glanced at the cargo hold. At least fifteen people stood around them, perhaps half of the whole team.

“Is there better bad news?” Kip asked, gritting his teeth.

“We intercepted a message from base recalling all field teams for a mandatory meeting,” Dania said.

“Did we lock that frequency?” Kip demanded.

Dania shrugged.

“Find out,” Kip ordered. “If we got it, exclude the base and send our destination on that frequency.”

“What if the base hacks it?” Dania said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kip said. “We have to save those teams. They’ll be killed back at base and we’re down a ship. We need more bodies. If we can gain the field teams, we’ll have a chance. We’ll keep radar going after we land to make sure nothing surprises us.”

Dania swept away. Jyra coughed. The taste of dirt lingered on her tongue. If they didn’t have the numbers to overthrow the donors after retrieving the information they needed, this campaign was already lost.

Minutes ticked by. Just when Jyra found herself wondering where Dania wound up, she returned, an uncharacteristic smile on her face.

“All field teams rerouted with full manual controls engaged. The base can’t track a single one,” she reported.

Kip sighed and rubbed his forehead against his forearm, which he propped against the wall.

“Where are we going to land?” Jyra asked.

“The bunker where Serana and the other scouts were attacked,” Dania said. “The Northern Intelligence complex is nearby. The ruins should provide adequate space for all the ships to land. We’ll also assemble beyond the border of the complex so we might surprise security forces.”

Jyra wasn’t sure if this news brought relief or stoked her anxiety. What if the Allied Hospitals kept the bunker under surveillance?

Unease and panic kept Jyra preoccupied for the rest of the journey. The noise of the engines faded and the ship rotated as it dropped toward the landing site. It settled with a sharp bump and the door opened. Lights from the ship and others landing nearby revealed a small hill before them. Once covered by a mature forest, nearly all the trees were gone. The damage extended to the earth itself; heavy artillery left massive craters in the ground. Several landslides had already removed great swathes from the slope.

Through the destruction, Jyra saw stone arches and windows, many cracked or caved in from the attack. It didn’t seem like anyone could have survived such an onslaught. Jyra looked behind her at the door to the small medical room were Serana remained unconscious. She spotted a stack of supply crates near the door. Jyra swung her duffel behind them and returned to the exit. She and Kip jumped onto the firm ground. Large flat stones were partially buried and scattered across the earth, perhaps an attempt to make a courtyard for the bunker. Soldiers from other ships were moving toward the ravaged hillside. Jyra and Kip headed in that direction, but paused when they heard a distant rumble. It grew rapidly louder and two ships, much smaller than their transports came into view. Jyra recognized one as a modified stunt skiff.

“Field teams!” Kip yelled nodding ahead. He and Jyra jogged toward the hill to clear the landing area.

By the time they stepped under one of the stone arches, a dozen separate field teams swelled their ranks. The glare of lights illuminated the hillside like a cinema screen. Kip managed to restock his rifle ammo as they passed a newly arrived ship. Dania appeared with Meriax, both ducking to shield against the gusts from landing thrusters.

“Very brave,” Meriax said, surveying the devastated bunker and hill above it. “Why not park your full force together where the enemy has so effectively rained ruin before? Quite sensible.”

She curled her toes on the edge of a protruding stone.

“Don’t step on anything sharp,” Jyra advised, ignoring the sarcasm. “How far is the intel complex?”

Meriax glanced at the stars. Jyra looked up and saw another flash in the sky. Just as it faded a second tumbling object blazed against the galactic backdrop.

“Northwest of here,” Meriax said, pointing.

“Am I the only one who saw that?” Jyra asked.

“Likely strays from the trash ring,” Meriax said.

Jyra didn’t have time to inquire about the trash ring. Agitated murmurs broke out across the courtyard as soldiers and field teams shuffled toward the bunker.

“We need to bring everyone up to speed on the mission,” Kip said. “The field teams make up the majority of our force and none of them have any idea why they’re here.”

They walked toward the gathering. Dania saw a shattered arch leaning against two boulders, knocked to pieces in the attack. The landing lights lit up one of the large rocks and they all made for it. Meriax climbed first, her fingers and toes finding easy purchase on the rough surface. The spectacle of the four figures on the boulder drew the attention of the entire crowd.

“Loyal comrades,” Kip began, doing his best to project his voice, “we are lucky to be joined by Resistance field teams. They are lucky to be here after the base attempted to lure them back to, at best, capture them.”

As Kip spoke, Jyra counted the number of people below and came close to one hundred. The arrival of the field teams considerably boosted their force. The numbers were welcome, but Jyra also noticed many of the field team members weren’t outfitted like the soldiers. Few appeared to wear any armor at all.

“I know some have heard this already, but we need to make sure everyone understands our mission. Donor families and those loyal to them have overthrown our Resistance. The families are a minority and hospital spies another smaller minority within the base. We don’t wish to harm the innocent, but we can’t easily identify them. Our mission is to gain the information to make such a distinction. We stand within striking distance of an Allied Hospital intelligence facility. The complex contains files we’re going to steal and use to weed out traitors. We must act quickly before more of those loyal to the Resistance are discovered in the base and imprisoned or killed.”

“How do we get inside the complex?” someone called from the crowd.

“I know how,” Meriax said. “I was trained there and I know where to go.”

“Seems like quite a lot of folks for one building,” someone muttered near the front.

“We don’t know exactly what we’ll find,” Jyra said, suddenly aware that her message was neither inspiring nor encouraging the group to pursue their cause. “That is, we might encounter a small security team or a larger force. We are gathered on the remains of a Resistance scout bunker the Allied Hospitals attacked. This is a result of their aggression, which could fall upon us at any moment. Uncertainty is best met with superior numbers.”

“You were trained there,” a man gestured at Meriax. He was almost directly below them. “Are you one of them?”

“She’s with us,” Jyra said. “We intercepted the order for field teams to return to base and spared you certain punishment,” she paused, aware she hadn’t discussed any of this with Kip, but as seemed to often happen, they didn’t have time to discuss details. “If anyone doesn’t wish to participate, feel free to stay, but remain here. Do not return to the base. I know many of you have friends there, but let’s acquire the information we need to save the Resistance.”

Jyra glanced at Kip who shrugged and nodded.

“Why are you covered in dirt?” someone else asked.

“Gather your weapons and let’s move out!” Jyra called, ignoring the question. As they descended the boulder, Jyra tapped the pocket above her knee and felt Dario’s dagger within. She pulled it out, emptying clumps of dirt from the pocket. Only then did she consider her appearance. The lights from the ships revealed dust and dirt clinging to her clothes and skin. Jyra rubbed her hair, shaking more soil free, but had to cease grooming when Dania called her name.

Jyra stepped into the bunker. Dania stood several paces down a partially collapsed corridor, holding a light close to one of the walls.

“Is it even safe to be in here?” Jyra asked.

“A locker,” Dania said. “It’s got Serana’s name on it.”

Jyra rushed forward, ducking the sagging ceiling. Sure enough, a small placard on the dented locker door read Makrinn.

“Let’s get them open,” Jyra said. “Keep the name cards with the contents. I’ll get some people to help you.”

Jyra assigned two members of a field team to the task of assisting Dania.

“Take it all to our ship,” Jyra told Dania as the comrades pried the doors free of their hinges.

The landing lights on several ships clicked off. The army moved toward the hillside. As more lights faded into the darkness, Jyra could tell the weapons kept aboard had been generously distributed. Several soldiers seemed to have long pipes strapped to their backs. Jyra asked Kip about them. He smiled and shook his head.

“Hand-held laser cannons,” he said. “Not exactly approved by the Resistance.”

“Who objects to them?” Jyra asked.

“Jarrow,” Kip said. “I hear a couple of those knocked him out of the sky. Might be what the donors used to shoot down that ship of ours.”

Jyra couldn’t suppress the surge of guilt, but she wasn’t about to take issue with the weapons. They needed every advantage.

“We have to meet Meriax at the head of the platoon,” Kip said.

“Right,” Jyra said, finding it difficult to speak.

All the ships powered down and without their lights aglow, they resembled a field of sculpted boulders. The darkness did little to obscure Meriax’s hair; it fluttered in the breeze, contrasting against the mud and fallen trees.

“We’ll get a look at the complex and get our strategy together then,” Kip said. “Typically, the commanders are supposed to know more than those they’re leading.”

They exchanged a sarcastic smile.

“How far?” Kip asked when they reached Meriax.

“Shouldn’t be more than a twenty minute walk,” Meriax said.

“Ready to go?” Jyra asked.

Meriax nodded and started up the slope.

“Onward!” Kip called. Multiple pairs of boots beat dirt and rock as the army hiked up the hill. Murmurs and chatter ceased as they moved beyond the bunker site. Meriax led them into the forest. Underbrush and fallen sticks cracked beneath boots. Aside from that, all Jyra could hear was her own breathing and the wind jostling the leaves above. The trees reminded her of those she first encountered on Silanpre.

Nothing like this forest could have grown on Tyrorken. Indeed, nothing could grow there at all. Jyra couldn’t stop from thinking about when she infiltrated TF headquarters. She remembered hearing her parents die. Based on the objective, the mission was successful, except to her.

Jyra stumbled as her boot struck a decaying log. The physical jerk returned her attention to the forest and the looming task: sending an army to scour a building for information. Their chances for success rested with Meriax. She claimed to know her way around the intel complex. This meant that she could either help them out or lead them into a trap. If the latter, no one would see it coming until it was too late.

Meriax stopped. Kip and Dania paused too, and Jyra nearly walked into Meriax.

“There,” Meriax pointed.

With six floors and hundreds of shining windows, the intel complex was hard to miss. The walls appeared sleek and dark, but it was difficult to discern much more in the middle of the night. Several rows of trees kept the army sheltered as comrades broke rank and moved through the underbrush, seeking the best view of their target. Amber lamps mounted on both the building and rows of poles lit up the grounds. A large landing pad contained four parked ships and a tall fence encircled the complex. Jyra was relieved, knowing the TF headquarters dwarfed the edifice before her.

“Which floor are the files on?” Kip asked.

“Fourth,” Meriax said without hesitation.

“Does each floor serve a specific function?” Jyra asked.

“More or less,” Meriax replied with an unmistakable tone of defiance. “First floor: training. Second floor: intel processing. Third floor: intel interpretation and action. Fourth floor: records. Fifth floor: intel gathering. Sixth floor was always off limits and I never found out its purpose.”

“Doesn’t seem like much of a secret,” Kip said. “Plenty of lights on up there.”

“If that alone tells you what’s happening on that floor, why don’t you just interpret the data from the spy files based on the lights in the windows,” Meriax said. “Think of the trouble and time it will save.”

Kip shot her a contemptuous glance. Jyra would’ve received the same, except she had ducked down, burying her face in her arm to squelch her laughter.

The upbeat moment ended almost as soon as it began. A successive round of deep roars caused Jyra to fall onto her stomach, certain a barrage of explosive ammunition was about to end their lives and campaign.

Almost immediately, she realized they hadn’t been targeted and she opened her eyes. Beyond the trees and against the glowing constellations, Jyra saw a massive airborne object, clouds of smoke billowing in its wake. She heard a collective gasp from the platoon. Missiles, leaving behind their own swathes of sparks and smoke, streaked toward the incoming object. The collision lit up the night. The glare from the fireball penetrated the forest and for a split second, Jyra thought she stared at a sun.

Voices erupted, expressing both shock and curiosity. Jyra got to her feet and approached, Meriax, who seemed transfixed by the explosion.

“The trash ring,” Jyra said. “What is it?”

“The Hospitals launch most of their waste into space. A lot of it doesn’t break orbit and a partial ring has accumulated around Silanpre. A fleet of tugs keeps most of it in space. I don’t know how something that large got away. They catch objects a quarter of that size before they drift toward reentry.”

“There’s another one!” someone shouted. Jyra looked up in time to see another twisted mass of steel plunging toward the planet. Ground artillery fired again, but the missiles soared too high. The object struck the ground, crushing a large portion of the southern security fence around the complex. Then it toppled sideways, flattening even more of the barrier upon the dirt.

Jyra and Kip both looked at each other and gave a brief nod of understanding. Entry point.

“How many to establish a perimeter around the outside the building?” Jyra asked, keen to make sure they didn’t rush into battle with no plan.

“Seven or eight to a side,” Kip said.

“A third of our force stays outside?” Jyra said.

“Whatever is happening will draw more Hospital forces,” Kip said. “Before we would have been lucky to get out alive. Now it will take a miracle.”

Just as he turned to give the order to move on, attention shifted back to the skies where six separate flames spun erratically toward the ground. Another round of missiles launched. Half of the objects disappeared in small explosions. The remaining three seemed to speed up, closing in on the ground with renewed acceleration. Except only one reached the ground. The other two hit the back of the intel complex.

Even from their distance, the sound of shattering glass and clatter of tumbling concrete filled the ears of everyone in the forest.

Kip finally found his resolve.

“Plan,” he shouted. “Set up perimeter around the building. Eight per side. Everyone else, follow her.” He finished by pointing at Meriax.

“What about the falling sky?” someone shouted.

“Keep an eye above you,” Kip said. “Use this distraction to our advantage. Move!”

“Perimeter guard with me!” Jyra recognized the voice and saw Tony rush ahead of the platoon, thirty-one comrades matching his pace.

Jyra questioned her confidence again as they moved from cover. The underbrush dwindled and soon they were jogging down a gentle slope of stubby grass and stunted weeds.

“Incoming!” a voice bellowed and the cry repeated through the platoon. Jyra snapped her attention upward and saw what appeared to be an enormous engine cowl, spinning haphazardly as it fell directly toward them. One rotation seemed to bring it away from the army, but the next turn menaced them again.

“Scatter!” Kip roared. “Break formation, break!”

Air rushing around the cowl produced a sinister hum. It nearly sounded like a whining engine. The last ten seconds of its descent seemed to occur in one. One moment it was airborne; the next, a corner of it stabbed the earth, spitting dirt and stones in all directions. A cloud of dust billowed to life as the rest of the cowl settled with a metallic shriek upon the ground. No one in the platoon moved, except for the perimeter guard that was already well ahead. Jyra saw them making for the portion of crushed border fence.

“Everyone okay?” Kip yelled.

Soldiers called affirmative responses. Kip looked at Jyra and wiped his brow.

“Little more than a distraction,” she said. “A couple more of those take a last-second turn and none of us will walk away.”

Another round of missiles launched. The platoon observed their trajectories, soaring toward the stars. Explosions burst overhead.

“At least the Hospitals are defending us, too,” Kip said. “Move on!” he added with a shout.

They made it all the way down the slope and were nearly in the proximity of the facility lights, when another projectile came into view. It glided swiftly into the complex before Jyra could identify it. The entire top corner of the building closest to the platoon broke loose, sheared from the rest of the structure. Concrete and steel crashed near the base of the complex and Jyra felt the ground shudder.

“Where’s our entrance?” Jyra asked.

“North side,” Meriax said.

“How many people are likely in this building?” Kip said.

“Hard to say,” Meriax said. “I assume its been evacuated.”

“Why are all these objects escaping the tug patrols?” Jyra asked.

“Not sure,” Meriax said. “I’ve never seen a shower like this. A couple strays slip by in a month at the most.”

The flashes amid the stars as detritus succumbed to Silanpre’s gravity reminded Jyra of the night on Drometica when she and Berk stole Mastranada. She remembered watching the Nilcyn ship crash on the plains, the shattered hull consumed by fire. Could a renegade army above be the cause of this disruption? She saw the Nilcyn insignia in her mind and quickly tried to clear it out. She had to be focused. They marched toward an enemy complex, following the perimeter guard. Presently, the guard crossed the damaged barrier and moved into position around the building.

As they approached the fence, Jyra looked north and saw the battery, cannon barrels stretching skyward. She had no idea why she stopped to watch, certain that she couldn’t have seen what was coming. Out of the darkness, a ship appeared roaring toward her, its course traveling directly over the artillery destroying the falling refuse. For a second, Jyra thought she saw one of the cannons swiveling, but none of them fired as the ship swooped upon them, dropping a small explosive into their midst.

The entire platoon fell to the ground as the battery disappeared in a roiling cloud of fire and smoke. The force of the explosion, certainly compounded by the on-site munitions, blew all the glass out of the complex’s windows. The mysterious ship veered toward the ruined bunker. Jyra lost sight of it over the trees while her fingers clutched the earth. She wondered if the Nilcyn insignia branded the ship.

“Move!” Kip roared, struggling to his feet. “While they’re distracted!”

The platoon surged forward, trampling the crushed fence and heading for the north entrance. They had to pass through the rubble; the remains of the crushed upper corner of the complex. Broken concrete and twisted steel covered their path. None of the wreckage indicated what struck the complex in the first place. Kip and Jyra led the charge along the east wall. Kip held his arm out before they rounded the far corner.

“What?” Jyra asked, watching the smoldering battery.

“Never walk around a blind corner,” Kip said.

“You really think this place is being defended?”

“I see no evidence to assume otherwise.”

Jyra gave Kip a skeptical look and brushed past him. She leaned cautiously around the corner and pulled back immediately.

“At least fifty guards!” she whispered. It was suddenly difficult to speak at normal volume.

“Is this a trap?” Kip snarled, aiming his rifle at Meriax.

“Not as far as I can tell,” she said. “The complex seems to be under direct attack. This is where they would make their stand.”

“And you led us right to them!” Kip accused, pushing his weapon forward. Meriax showed no fear.

“As I said, the complex seems to be targeted. The situation has changed since we first witnessed it.”

Kip paused and Jyra was pleased by his silence, especially since Meriax was right. The onslaught of falling trash seemed like a freak occurrence, but a ship bombing Allied Hospital property was an outright attack.

“Any sign of the perimeter team assigned to the north side?” Kip said.

Jyra hadn’t seen them, but could only hope they were on the other side of the building, possessing enough sense to check around the corner before strolling into view. She shook her head. She and Kip took another quick glance at the enemy forces.

The exterior lighting showed an assembled security force wearing gray armor and carrying long rifles.

“If I were them, I’d be jumping in those ships right now,” Jyra muttered, jerking her head toward the transports on the landing pad.

“Our good fortune won’t make that happen,” Kip said. “Even with the field team boost, we can’t attack them.”

“Surprise?” Jyra suggested, but Kip shook his head.

“Too many,” he said. “We can’t get into position to make an attack. We try to form ranks, they’ll see.”

“Any other entrances?” Jyra asked Meriax. “Can we get to this side of the building if we use another door?”

“It will take longer, but there might be a way into the basement,” Meriax said. “It’s an emergency exit, unless they’ve blocked it up.”

“Lead on,” Jyra said, before Kip could protest.

Meriax walked back the way they had come, striding the length of the assembled platoon into the rubble. Beyond her, Jyra saw a thin object falling from the sky. Possessing no significant area to create drag, it seemed to accelerate until it struck the earth. If something at that speed hit the complex, Jyra was certain the entire building would collapse.

She and Kip followed Meriax around the corner. No sooner had they cleared the rubble, a patch of dirt ahead of them shifted. It rose and the dirt slid away to reveal a door opening toward the sky. Five men clambered into the fresh air. They all wore gray uniforms and seemed to be in various throes of agitation, which Jyra was pleased to witness. One of them turned to see the three people who had emerged from around the corner.

“Run, idiots, run now!” he ordered. “We’re under attack!”

“Indeed,” Kip said.

At that moment, the rest of the platoon moved into view. Simultaneously, the man and his fellows realized their delay had cost them a clean escape. Their faces and shoulders fell.

“Check them,” Kip ordered.

Ten soldiers swarmed the agents. They recovered small revolvers but nothing more.

“Convenient,” Kip said, glancing from Meriax to the captives.

“Don’t,” Jyra said quickly, already aware of what Kip was plotting. She stepped forward, fixing him with a defiant stare.

“We can compare their ability to lead us where we need to go, but don’t create competitions between Meriax and these men. It will only invite them to lead us down wrong paths.”

“Fine,” Kip said. “But this will be an interesting test for Meriax. What if she and the men disagree on a route?”

“What I’ll find interesting is if you trust her after we recover the files,” Jyra said. “Stop wasting time.”

“Gentleman,” Kip said, striding forward with open arms. “You have the privilege of assisting us this evening. We’re here to steal spy records located on the fourth floor.”

One of the men choked.

“Step forward,” Meriax said, pointing at him.

The man shuffled several paces past his fellows so the light fell on his face.

“I remember him from the records department,” Meriax said. “He can take us right to the files.”

Two of his fellows lunged forward and seized the records worker. Unfortunately for his assailants, the soldiers who had searched the group were still nearby. Several blows with rifle butts freed the records worker from the assault.

“Are you all right?” Kip asked. The records worker shuffled closer. He had a round face, a small mouth curved in a perpetual frown, and sweat plastered his dark hair against his forehead. He nodded.

“How many people are still in the building?” Kip asked.

“Maybe twenty,” the worker mumbled. “Mostly security.”

“What can you tell us about the forces assembled outside the north entrance?” Jyra said.

The worker fell silent.

“What’s your name?” Jyra said, adopting a softer tone.

“Driggs,” the worker said, speaking to his dusty boots.

“Do you know anything about why they’re there?” Jyra said. “Would any of your companions know?”

Driggs shook his head.

“It’s the main entrance,” he suggested. “We’re being attacked.” He cast a brief glance at the platoon before him and added, “obviously.”

“Too true,” Kip said, clapping Driggs on the shoulder. “And as your attacker, I advise you get us to those records otherwise you meet the same fate.”

Jyra had no time to protest, nor did she predict the muted gunshots. The other four security guards, already dead, fell where they stood.

Jyra saw none of it directly, but she was near enough to feel the impact. Her knees hit the ground or it might have been the floor. She was back in the Tyrorken Fuels’ headquarters.

The crack of the rifles sounded the execution in the memory, she heard the bodies of her parents clatter against the bars of their cells as they slumped to their bloody deaths.

She stared upward and saw Kip standing over her, eyes wild with concern, his hair glittering in the starlight.

“Is she all right?”

”What’s going on?”

Jyra recognized none of the voices. She felt Kip grab her hand and tug her to her feet. He had performed an identical maneuver to retrieve her from the floor of the collapsed passage in the base. This time, however, Jyra felt no warmth or relief from his touch. She pulled her hand free and quickly used both her palms to sweep the hair from her eyes.

“Okay?” Kip asked, peering at her face.

“Yeah,” Jyra lied breezily. “The gunfire hurt my ears…I don’t know. The pain’s gone, but it came out of nowhere…doesn’t matter. We need to move.”

“All right,” Kip said, and clapped her on the shoulder. “Lead on, Driggs.”

The records worker bowed his head and took short paces toward the open hatch.

“How do you intend to remove the records?” Driggs asked.

“Quickly,” Kip said, casting a furtive glance at the sky.

Driggs started down the ladder, shaking his head. The entrance reminded Jyra of the door she used to enter the Resistance base the first time.

Meriax followed Driggs. Kip and Jyra followed her. The narrow corridor at the base of the ladder was cool and dark, but a lamp glowed at the other end of the passage. As they turned into a fully lit hallway, Jyra listened as the rest of the platoon descended the ladder, armor and weapons scraping and clattering against the concrete walls.

Driggs stopped ahead of them for a moment, surveyed the platoon filling the corridor, and kept walking. When she reached the spot where he’d paused, Jyra saw a freight elevator. Had he really considered using it? Jyra suspected it might hold eight people at the most.

Driggs pushed through a door and began climbing stairs beyond it. They trooped after him, winding their way upward.

Another door led to a hallway and then Driggs stepped into an office. Kip and Jyra entered after him and both froze in the doorway. Their corner of the room contained a couple of armchairs and a small reception desk. Aside from that, floor-to-ceiling shelves covered the perimeter of the office. Three additional shelves sat in the middle of the room, creating aisles. Except for an empty row on the bottom of the nearest aisle, the shelves were all full of crisp white folders, arranged like books in a library. Meriax looked between Jyra and Kip’s stationary heads.

“The database,” she said. “A record of every single spy the hospital has trained and deployed.”

Jyra feared Kip might attempt to strangle Meriax. She quickly stepped into the hall and addressed Meriax quietly as the platoon began forming ranks around them.

“You never bothered to mention these were physical files?” Jyra hissed.

“You didn’t ask,” Meriax said. “I thought that was part of the reason so many people came along. A lot to carry.”

Jyra opened her mouth to press Meriax further, but Kip’s yell stopped her.

“What are you doing?”

Meriax and Jyra leapt into the office to see Kip with his rifle aimed at Driggs.

“I…I deactivated the alarm,” Driggs stammered. He was behind the desk, his pudgy hands raised above his head. Kip adjusted his grip on the rifle.

Meriax glanced at the ceiling. Jyra, following her gaze, caught sight of a small red lamp before it turned green.

“It’s fine,” she said. “That’s all he did.”

Driggs stepped sideways and tripped on a phone cord. The receiver and mouthpiece crashed to the carpet. He stooped to pick it up.

“Stop!” Kip roared. “Stop, or I’ll make sure you never move again!” Driggs cooperated, but Jyra noticed he gave another defeated shake of his head.

“You were expecting to retrieve digital content, were you not?” Kip said to Jyra, trying to keep an even tone.

“I was,” Jyra said. “But I never clarified with Meriax. I didn’t ask the right questions.” Jyra could not explain in the moment how she assumed the database would be so similar to the TF pilot gallery on Valiant Conductor II. She even told the donors in the meeting that she intended to hack into the files. The allure of intangible data was easy to imagine and Jyra didn’t consider a planet-wide system of hospitals would use anything besides digital record keeping. But here she stood, the information before her, hiding within itself and far more burdensome to transport. As this all passed through Jyra’s mind, her expression remained fixed and Kip took charge.

“We can discuss it later,” he said. “Right now, we need to figure out how we’re going to get all these out of here before the building comes down.”

“Wait,” Jyra said, suddenly aware that she approached Driggs and glanced behind the desk. The phone lay on the floor. The screen on the receiver flashed the word “alert” over and over again. Jyra leaned down and ripped the cord out of the jack.

“You tried to warn us,” Jyra said, watching the sweat gather on Driggs’ brow. “And you still chose not to speak up.” Jyra turned to walk away, but anger locked her stride. She pivoted, intending to shove Driggs against the wall. Instead, she punched him through it and he collided with a metal air duct. The body toppled down the open utility shaft, leaving a large patch of blood upon the crumpled duct.

“Secure the hallway,” Jyra ordered, survival instincts shutting out what she had done to Driggs. “Cover the elevators and stairs.”

“What is going on?” Kip demanded, coming to her side. He saw the phone and ran a hand through his hair, shaking free more dust. They heard Meriax repeating Jyra’s orders to the platoon.

“They’re all inside by now,” Jyra said.

“That entire security team,” Kip nodded. “Of course they have redundant alarm systems in an office like this.”

“We outnumber them,” Jyra said, seeking comfort amid waning hope.

“Not by much,” Kip said.

At that moment, the lights went out.

Several comrades yelled in surprise. Flashlights clicked on throughout the platoon while Kip and Jyra moved into the hall. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath and the reason was obvious: the tromp of boots from below was clearly audible in their silence.

Jyra caught sight of Meriax’s hair in the gloom and beckoned her.

“Do we have every entrance covered?” she asked.

“Stairs at both ends of the corridor and the freight elevator are all I know about,” Meriax said.

Half the platoon jumped when a loud bang echoed through the corridor.

“Security!” a voice bellowed. It came from the nearer stairwell. “Open the door now! This building could collapse at any moment!”

All eyes of the platoon shifted to Kip who held up a fist to maintain silence.

“They don’t know all of us are here!” he whispered. “We could surprise them.”

“How?” Jyra asked.

The door shuddered with two heavy thuds.

“Kick the door down and throw a grenade into the stairwell.”

Jyra looked between the two files of comrades. Flashlight beams reflecting off the walls illuminated the door. She proceeded down the hallway and felt Kip following.

“One more chance!” the voice of the security team threatened. “Open up now, or we come in shooting!”

Jyra stopped in front of the door and turned to see Kip, holding the explosive. He nodded. She faced the door, but became aware of the entire platoon watching her. Nerves sapped her strength. The hesitation lengthened and the muffled sound of clicking weapons came from the stairwell.

A sudden burst of gunfire stole everyone’s attention, especially because it didn’t come from the other side of the door. Lights flashed through shattered exterior office windows and into the hall. Jyra took advantage of the distraction. She placed her hands against the cold steel and pushed. A crease leapt across the width of the door. Jyra released pressure and then gave an intentional shove. The door hit the opposite wall of the landing, crushing two men in an instant. Kip and Jyra leapt back as the grenade ricocheted off the ceiling and toppled into the security team, whose members were trying to assess what happened to the door and the men attempting to open it.

The explosion filled the doorway moments later. Several comrades were moving toward the windows, curious about the shots outside. Jyra was about to follow them, but the roar of a drill followed immediately by the scream of shrieking metal redirected the entire platoon. Enemies occupied the other stairwell and they hadn’t bothered to knock.

Jyra considered repeating what she and Kip just did, but there was no time. A massive drill bit tore into view, ripping the platoon-applied instant weld apart and, indeed, boring out the entire latch. The door swung open. Comrades nearest to the perimeter breach were already assembled and fired into the darkness. Cries of pain and surprise rose between rounds. The security team managed to form up on one side of the door and returned fire. Wounded comrades attempted to retreat while others stepped forward, but the entire platoon was vulnerable in the narrow hallway.

“Use something bigger than bullets!” Kip shouted.

Jyra pressed her back against the wall. She saw the shape of a large comrade fall, a long barrel toppling with him. For a moment, all she felt was fear for the wounded comrades and, quite likely, those who were already killed. A brief opening in the ranks allowed her to see toward the front and she glimpsed the long barrel again. She had no time to react. The red laser bathed the hallway in a sharp crimson glow. It vanished as soon as it appeared, but the resulting explosion lit the hallway again, this time with a prolonged flash of white and orange.

The entire building quaked. The door and frame, crippled and misshapen, tumbled toward the platoon, skidding to a halt at the front line. All the lamps and interior windows shattered. Great cracks immediately opened in the walls. The shockwave, roar, and heat of the laser impact knocked Jyra off her feet.

Clouds of dust and smoke galloped across the ceiling. Jyra blinked and felt powdered mortar and concrete falling on her cheeks like rain. The sensation reminded her of the dust storms on Tyrorken when the ground took flight. The planet is gone, Jyra told herself. She placed a hand against the nearby wall, forcing herself to stand. Most of the platoon remained on the floor. Several flashlight beams lit up the noxious cloud on the ceiling that coiled lower and lower, threatening to envelope motionless comrades.

The first sign of movement Jyra noticed was near the outside wall. The comrades investigating the mysterious gunfire had crouched to protect themselves but now they crept toward the window again. Jyra made her way to their side.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There’s a ship out there,” one of them said. “It passed by and our guards shot at it.”

“Find a way back to the ground and get the perimeter guard up here,” Jyra said. “We need every hand to help the wounded. Keep an eye out for security.”

The two comrades nodded and departed. Jyra nearly followed them but paused when she caught sight of movement outside the window. She coughed and realized the chill of the night coaxed the warm air through the shattered windows, surrounding her in smoke and dust. She leaned through the empty frame to identify the motion she saw before and disbelief paralyzed her. She must have stepped into a bizarre dream. Jyra turned to make sure she wasn’t unconscious on the floor. Kip was on his feet and he caught her eye but she turned back to the approaching ship, a ship she knew.

It drew closer, the thrum of its engines cutting into the eerie silence. Jyra remained transfixed at the window. The bow of the ship glided past and the sleek hull slid by, all but commanding Jyra to extend her arm and touch the steel. Abruptly it stopped and Jyra automatically stepped back and drew her brother’s dagger.

The cargo bay door suddenly opened, spilling white light through the window and into the hall. A hulking shape came into view and Jyra caught sight of a raised shotgun. The dagger fell to her side. Barlen appeared first, his silhouette obscured by the large, shotgun-wielding man behind him.

“Why are you covered in dirt?” Berk asked.

Part XXXIV: Reawaken

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.

Part XXXV: The crate

Jyra felt her grip on the doorjamb tighten as she watched the incoming object growing larger as it plunged toward both her and the ground. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t abandon Serana. Comrades near Mastranada pointed and shouted warnings. Several saw Jyra in the transport. They gestured for her to flee, but she ignored them. Her eyes swiveled back to the incoming threat. It looked like nothing more than a long, narrow rectangle. Smoke billowed from its trailing edges.

Jyra was sure it was going to cut across the courtyard, sweeping transports aside, like a hand dusting crumbs off a countertop. But the object rotated and it came down upon the parked ships leading with a short side. Jyra lost sight of it behind her ship, but she felt it strike; the earth shuddered from the impact. Horrendous screeches and thuds followed as the object cut through the small resistance transports. The noise jolted Jyra and she leapt to the ground and ran to the stern of the transport. Beyond it she saw the object, its leading edge buried and still pushing through the dirt. Most of it remained exposed, holding a slanted position about twenty degrees to the ground. Its progress through the courtyard disrupted most of the small transports. The earth finally sapped the momentum of flight and with a metallic groan the object came to rest. Jyra estimated it left a fifty-foot trench through the courtyard. She wanted to investigate the damage but she had to check on Serana first.

Jyra made for the medical room as several comrades came running from Mastranada.

“Relax,” Jyra said, as the runners reached her. “It wrecked ships, but claimed no lives.”

“Are you all right?” one of them asked. He looked like the only soldier in the group. Jyra nodded.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Search the bunker for any cannon or other artillery that might knock something else like it to the ground.”

Jyra climbed into the transport and returned to the medical room. Serana had propped herself onto her elbows, her eyes wide and her hands fastened to the bedrails.

“I forgot to mention large debris from the trash ring is coming back to land,” Jyra said. “Something from there just took out a number of ships. No one was hurt.”

“The Hospitals usually keep a close eye on the ring,” Serana said. “Have other pieces fallen as well?”

“A few hit the complex,” Jyra said. “The blows definitely weakened the building.”

“Well, the building coming down makes more sense knowing that,” Serana said.

Jyra had deliberately omitted it from her telling of the attack, but Serana was a question or two away from the truth; Jyra couldn’t lie outright to her friend. She had to admit what her other friends did.

“Berk and Leonick disabled a couple trash tugs to distract Hospital forces during our raid,” Jyra said. “They couldn’t have predicted this.”

“No they couldn’t,” Serana said, easing onto her pillow. “It was reckless, but they only had the one ship. We’ll find out how many transports we lost shortly, but we could have lost much more. Nearly everyone at this bunker is alive thanks to your friends.”

“Nearly?”

“I’m alive because of you and Kip,” Serana said. “I didn’t run into a hostile building like an idiot.”

Jyra smiled but the mention of Kip tempered the joy.

Serana sat up and unwrapped the bandage on her right forearm. A ragged, curved gash, held shut with stitches, crossed the top of her arm just below the elbow.

“That stings,” Serana breathed, as the air greeted the wound.

“You’re lucky you’ve still got that arm,” Jyra said. Serana lifted her right hand and held the tip of her forefinger near the end of her thumb.

“This close to following dad,” she said.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save him,” Jyra said.

“He was on borrowed time,” Serana said. “Of course, I wish he were still alive, but I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to die for him, especially trying to free him from the base.”

Jyra didn’t know what to say. She thought of Jarrow crashing to the ground after Hospital forces shot him down. It reminded her of the debris that just landed beside them. The anxiety must have showed on her face, but Serana clapped her hands.

“Enough,” she said. “Grieving needs to wait for the benefit of the wounded. We never forget those who matter to us, right?”

Jyra nodded.

“Nearly two weeks in a coma and I’m right back where it all started,” Serana said.

“Two weeks?” Jyra said, suddenly aware that Serana hadn’t asked her how long she had been sleeping, nor had Jyra offered the information.

“It’s on the screen,” Serana said, motioning to the monitor. “Sounds like I missed plenty. You said you’d emptied my bunker locker. Maybe you can bring me a better outfit.”

“Of course,” Jyra said. She got off the small chair and Serana swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Jyra paused before she went through the door.

“What?” Serana asked.

“I’m just glad to see you standing again,” Jyra said.

Presently, the two of them stepped out of the transport, Serana moving slowly and trying to keep her back straight.

“I couldn’t see how bad the stomach wounds were,” she said. “Just a lot of blood.”

The women looked at Mastranada across the courtyard. Several soldiers positioned an old laser cannon next to it, aiming the barrel upward. The stars overhead faded as dawn approached. A chilly breeze swept over them. Serana wore one of the flight suits recovered from her locker.

Jyra was keen to assist aboard Mastranada, but she also wanted to investigate the debris behind her. Serana suggested they do both.

“We should salvage as many medical kits off the damaged ships as we can,” she said. “After that, you can take a quick look at whatever fell into our midst.”

They waded into the wreckage. The breeze carried the smells of tilled earth and burned metal. The women followed the trench, walking toward the point of first impact. A ship, cloven in two, marked the beginning of the destruction. The object cut through the transport, like shrapnel through flesh. Jyra walked around the end of the trench and searched the crumpled stern for medical supplies, while Serana checked the bow section. They each found a kit and moved on to the next wreck, located entirely on the far side of the trench.

“Too bad there aren’t any reputable hospitals nearby,” Serana said. “Save us the trouble.”

Jyra smiled but her eyes were on the object, one end jutting toward the sky. She couldn’t help feeling like she had seen the shape before. She took a couple steps toward the object, leaning to check the long edges on either side. Jyra placed her foot on a scorched fragment of cowling, and it rotated under her; she had to hop aside to keep her balance.

“Need to watch out,” Serana said. “None of this stuff is stable.”

Her last word opened a pathway in Jyra’s mind. She suddenly remembered the escape into space aboard Mastranada after bombing TF headquarters. A small stabilizer, likely from a destroyed vessel, jammed against the ship. Disabled by enemy fire, Mastranada carried Jyra and the rest of the resistance into a TF freighter cargo bay. The foreign stabilizer was pulled free and smashed the hangar door control on its way back into space, sealing the resistance in a hostile ship.

Jyra realized, with help from Serana’s word choice, this object was a stabilizer. Not the sort that hit Mastranada months ago, but one of many mounted on the stern of the TF freighter. Jyra remembered seeing them as they drifted toward the yawning cargo bay.

“Are you all right?” Serana asked, drawing level with Jyra. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Jyra said. “I’ve seen all I need to for now. Let’s get these kits to the ship. I’m sure they need them.”

Jyra was right. She helped Serana into Mastranada’s cargo bay. Kip had returned to sorting the files. He got to his feet the moment he saw Serana and smiled.

“Good to see you again,” he said. He stepped over several stacks of files and gave her a single-arm hug around the shoulders. He took several kits from her hands.

“And you,” Serana said. “Thanks for looking out for me when I couldn’t.”

Kip nodded and glanced back at the files, uncertain how to accept the praise.

“Hard at work,” Serana said, indicating the stacks.

“Trying to get them reorganized,” Kip said. “More important work going on back there.”

He made for the corridor, carrying the medical kits with him. Jyra and Serana followed. They reached the opening, and the smell of disinfectant and blood stopped them as effectively as any door.

Barlen and Yoke appeared out of the gloom and pushed through the trio into the cargo bay. Yoke was running a rag over his red hands. Barlen kept swallowing hard and his eyes watered.

“Additional kits,” Yoke said. His voice had become higher but still quite earnest. “Excellent. Barlen, can you take those to the treatment area?”

Were he in any condition to protest, Jyra was sure Barlen would have made a case, but it appeared he couldn’t open his mouth. He seized the kits from the others and disappeared. Jyra would have offered to help, but she had the sense Yoke wanted to speak to them alone.

“Sorry for the delay in welcoming you back,” he said with a nod to Serana. “How do you feel?”

“A little tired, but well enough, thanks to you,” she replied.

“Good,” Yoke said, seeming to ignore the compliment. His voice became low once more, but it included a strained edge.

“We’ve got a situation,” he continued. “Those kits will help most of the folks. A few people with the field teams have basic medical skills and are working to stabilize and comfort the wounded. The problem is we have ten comrades with severe injuries—internal bleeding, damaged arteries, head trauma—and I can’t help them with small medical kits.”

“What do you need?” Serana asked.

“Hospital medical transports carry response crates that should contain everything I require as long as they’re sealed,” Yoke said.

“No chance of those being in our fleet?” Jyra asked, gesturing toward the courtyard.

“No,” Kip said. He seemed taken aback by his own derisive tone. “I mean those crates would have been stripped long before we got the ships.”

“If I understand you correctly,” Serana said to Yoke, “we need to find one of these crates and find it fast. Ten lives are on the line and on the clock?”

Yoke nodded.

“Time is the enemy,” he said. The crate is a three-foot white cube. The top should be sealed with red and white striped tape.”

“Are we just supposed to capture the nearest medical transport?” Serana said.

“And what if they follow us back here?” Kip said.

Yoke glanced toward the front of Mastranada and Jyra understood.

“We need a team, five or six at the most, and one of our smaller transports that can still fly,” she said. “We have to go back to the complex as soon as possible.”

“By now, that place will be crawling with Hospital agents,” Kip said, incredulous.

“Exactly,” Jyra said. “They’ll have investigators and engineers on site, but they’ll have medical transports as well. They’ve come to us. It’s our chance to hit them to take what we need.”

“And risk more lives,” Kip said. Jyra sensed anger behind the statement unrelated to the words themselves.

“In order to save more that are in jeopardy,” Jyra said. “Are you in?”

“I’ll get my things and find a suitable transport. Might see who else I can recruit,” Kip said and he crossed the cargo bay and jumped out of sight.

“Thanks for the quick work,” Yoke said. “Come get me once you’re back.”

“Of course,” Jyra said as Yoke turned to leave. “One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Have you seen Tony Verral?”

Yoke’s expression, boosted by the hopeful conversation, deteriorated.

“He’s back here with his sister,” he said.

“Dania?” Jyra said. “What happened?”

“She got hit by the caving ceiling,” Yoke said. “Apparently, she was in the ship and saw a few files dropped in the building. She leapt back through the window, got the files to Barlen, and then a chunk of concrete got her in the head. Barlen and others managed to retrieve her. She’s one of the ten.”

Jyra was stunned into silence. She immediately thought of Tony, Barlen tending his wounds, as Mastranada pulled away from the complex. A moment earlier, inches separated him from life or death. He seemed almost nonchalant as Barlen began wrapping his arms. He asked no questions about his sister. Jyra remembered seeing Dania for a moment as she came up to the hall with the rest of the perimeter guard. Now, she slipped closer to death with each moment.

“If he’s willing,” Jyra blurted, before Yoke turned out of sight in the doorway, “tell Tony I want him on this mission.”

Yoke gave a quick nod and disappeared. He’d been kept from his work long enough. Jyra felt a pang accompanied by a rush of fear. What if Dania died without her brother at her side? What if she tore them away from the last moments they would spend together? But she had to lead. As the commander of the perimeter guard, Tony would know the lay of the land around the ruined complex.

We’re all coming back, Jyra thought. We won’t lose any more lives. She and Serana caught each other’s eye. Jyra stared into her friend’s fierce gaze; her very being radiated strength and courage.  But Jyra couldn’t ignore reality. She recalled glimpsing the deep blue lacerations on Serana’s stomach as she pulled on her flight suit; the staples over the wounds were holding both entrails and skin in place.

“I know what you want,” Jyra said.

“If you want me to go, I’m ready,” Serana said. “If not, I’ll be ready for the next one.”

“I hope you understand,” Jyra said.

“Be the leader you are,” Serana said. Her voice grew stronger, but not out of anger. “Tell me.”

“You’ll be on the next mission, maybe,” Jyra said, after a brief pause. “Not this one.”

“That’s all I needed to know,” Serana said. “You need anything to eat before you go?” She made a casual assessment of Jyra’s appearance. “Change of clothes?”

“I suspect the bunker still has Hospital garb stocked we can use,” Jyra said. “Now that I think of it, being covered in dust from the complex might be a useful disguise. Need to make sure the others on the team are outfitted as such.”

“This will be fast,” Serana said, heading for the door. “Follow me. I’ll get you some food to go and a proper side arm.”

“I have one,” Jyra said, revealing the dagger in her pocket.

“All right you’ll have two, one that can stab and one that can shoot.”

The bunker contained a number of corridors bored deep into the hill. They were similar to the old passages in the base, but the walls in the bunker were filled with lockers and storerooms. Many were empty, but Serana eventually discovered a stocked pantry and a small arms cabinet.

Her pockets bulging with packaged meals and a pistol holstered at her hip, Jyra made her way back to the courtyard with Serana.

“The damage doesn’t seem bad in here at all,” Jyra said.

“The bunker served its purpose,” Serana said. “Took losses out front and a couple passages caved in. Heaviest hits were at the other end. We barely got out of the courtyard before Hospital ships attacked.”

“Since we don’t have a base to go back to, maybe we process the files here,” Jyra said. “There’s space for that to be done and enough provisions, right?”

“I expect so,” Serana said. “But you’ve got to get going.”

Jyra wished she could have told Berk or Leonick about the mission, but she emerged into the courtyard and saw a small field team transport gliding over the massive stabilizer. Kip was in the cockpit with a pilot she hadn’t seen before.

Serana came back to Jyra’s side with a stack of Hospital agent uniforms.

“Want these?” she asked over the whine of the engine. Jyra looked at the gritty powder covering her and squinted at the pilot through the cockpit glass.

“I think the dust will help us blend in,” she said.

“As long as no one sees you get out of the ship pre-dusted,” Serana said. “Good luck!”

She gave Jyra a brief one-armed hug and disappeared into the bunker. Jyra hesitated for a moment, wishing this were an arrival rather than a departure.

She jogged toward the transport as it landed. The cargo bay door swung down to make a loading ramp at the ship’s stern beneath the engine.

“Wait up!”

Jyra looked over her shoulder and saw Tony leap out of Mastranada. He still wore the same outfit, complete with the cut shirtsleeves and bandages on his arms. Even from a distance, Jyra could tell his eyes were puffy. He clutched a machine gun and had a revolver strapped to his belt. He walked right past Jyra, breathing hard and fast.

“Let’s go,” he said. “She doesn’t have time!”

Jyra silently agreed and jogged after Tony. She hadn’t much of a moment to worry about her brother’s death. The news of Dario’s fate came in an instant. Tony, on the other hand, had to sit by his sister, unable to do anything as her life faded away. This mission gave him the chance to act, and as Jyra mentally reviewed her reasons for bringing him aboard, she began to doubt the decision.

We’re all tired and too vulnerable to be doing this, she thought. Though after a much smaller and fully understood target this time, this mission had ten lives at stake. Jyra tried to ignore such details and she climbed the ramp and hollered forward to Kip.

“Ready to go!”

The ship lifted and Kip appeared on the steps leading to the cockpit.

“This transport looks passable for active duty, right?” Jyra asked, partly because she had noticed the faded exterior, but mostly to keep conversation focused on the mission.

“It’s why I picked it,” Kip said. “We’ll see.”

Tony had taken a seat on a short bench fastened to the wall. The floor contained wheel locks for gurneys. Jyra suspected this transport would have served as an airborne ambulance. The shelves on the walls and ceiling might have contained medicine and other supplies. A white crate like the one they sought might have even sat in a corner.

“I’m sorry to hear about Dania,” Kip said, standing near Tony. Jyra silently chastised herself for not mentioning it at all.

Tony mumbled an inaudible reply. She waited for enough time to pass before approaching the two men. She offered the packaged sandwiches and they each accepted one.

“Where are we landing?” she asked Kip.

“Go up and take a look,” Kip said. “You and Revo decide on a spot. They’ve likely set up a med area. We want to land close to the medic ships, but not too close.”

“All right,” Jyra said, heading for the cockpit, eager to leave Kip’s company.

“You Revo?” she said. The top of the steps ended in the cockpit; she stood right next to his broad shoulder. His hair and eyes were dark and his jaw square and set. His appearance reminded Jyra of Berk, but Revo was of average build and maintained his short hair and whiskers.

“You got it and you must be Jyra,” he said. “Where do you think we should land?”

For a moment, Jyra didn’t recognize where they were. Smoke rose in several locations between the ground and sky. When she realized the fires must be from fallen trash, she gazed further toward the east and suddenly saw the forest they hiked through last night. But the bunker was east of the complex.

“You took us around so we could approach from another direction,” Jyra said, understanding replacing confusion.

“Our bunker is close enough to them already,” Revo said.

“Take us lower and we can fly in from the north,” Jyra said. “If we see an established medical area, try to land near it. Sandwich?”

The ship tipped forward as Revo maneuvered toward the earth and nodded as he took the wrapped meal from Jyra. He accelerated to a reasonable emergency transport speed. A plume of black smoke stretched toward the sky. The fierce heat beneath it held the dark cloud together as it coiled upward. A hundred feet off the ground, the column separated, spreading out like a vast shadow, shielding the rising sun.

Jyra realized the smoke originated from the battery Mastranada bombed. The fires had grown, feeding off munitions lockers that compounded the size of the flames. She turned her attention forward to where a gray pile of rubble replaced the complex. Slabs of concrete, three times the size of their transport, stood upright as though they had dropped straight down from an upper floor. Seen from above, it seemed the center of the complex was the most concave part of the ruins. The shattered perimeter walls were the highest part of the building now, which made the complex look like an arena or coliseum. Two large excavators hovered just above the wreckage in the bottom of the pit, turning over broken sheets of concrete like pebbles.

As Jyra surveyed the damage, details emerged in the wreckage: a smashed wooden desk, a twisted elevator door, and even a door of bars. It reminded Jyra of one that used to contain Meriax in the Resistance base.

“Medical site,” Revo said with a nod. Jyra tore her eyes from the heaped remains and saw he was right. Several medical transports were grouped near the complex landing pad. By the time he saw them, Revo had to turn around in order to land within minimal proximity of the other ships. The one hundred and eighty degree turn directed the engine exhaust at the rubble, blowing a mass of gray dust into the air. As Revo placed the transport on the ground, the cloud billowed past the cockpit.

“Open the door now!” Jyra shouted into the hold. She heard the whine of hydraulic pumps lowering the ramp, followed by heavy coughing. She and Revo made their way to the others.

The acrid odor of cracked concrete filled Jyra’s nose.

“That stuff is foul,” Kip said, burying his face under his collar. As the door opened wider, thick clouds of dust swirled into the hold, settling on every surface and coating the newcomers.

“It’s not good to breathe, but it should help us all escape here breathing,” Jyra said. “We at least look like we belong. Leave your weapons. We’ll check the medical transports next to us first for the crate. If we don’t find a sealed one, meet back here. Let’s move before someone tries to greet us.”

Tony slid his machine gun under a bench but quickly untucked his shirt to let it conceal his revolver. Kip relinquished his short rifle and patted a pocket near his hip. Revo opened a storage compartment and pulled out two metallic cylinders. He slid them into his rear pockets and Jyra placed her pistol and holster with the other firearms.

“What did you grab?” Kip asked.

“Flash grenades,” Revo said. “Not going to kill enemies, but we won’t have time for anything grand like that, will we?”

“We’ll see,” Tony muttered.

“Revo’s right,” Jyra said, as they moved toward the exit. “You hear gunfire, get back here immediately. If you’re close enough to help one of us who’s attacking or being attacked, do it, but otherwise we need to get out fast. No point losing anyone on this mission.”

Their feet found familiar ground. The ruins of the complex towered to the left, the medical transports waited to the right. Moans and anguished cries mixed with the roar of small security crafts soaring overhead.

“That black ship,” Tony whispered, nodding at a small angular transport landing near what had been the main entrance of the complex. “That’s someone from Hospital leadership.”

They turned their backs on the new arrival and ducked behind the first medical transport.

“Revo and I will take this one,” Jyra said in a low voice. “You two move onto the next.”

For a moment, Jyra wished she had taken a couple earpieces from Berk, but it didn’t matter now. Any delay could cost lives. She and Revo approached the open cargo bay door. Jyra motioned for Revo to hang back as she had a sudden idea. She swallowed hard and stepped into view.

“Any sealed response crates on board?” she asked. Six individuals, all clad in tight white garments looked up and stared at her. Jyra realized there were three each working at one of two operating tables in the ship.

“Who are you?” one of the surgeons demanded from behind a mask. Jyra froze as the surgeons moved toward her. However much she assumed the dust would disguise her, it hadn’t worked. Revo suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her to the ground. Jyra heard something clatter on the deck of the cargo bay.

“Attack now,” he said. Jyra barely moved to push herself up before a white glare blazed out of the cargo bay. The flash grenade hissed as it detonated, but the shrieks and shouts of surprise were loud enough. Jyra drew her dagger and leapt into the transport, stabbing the stunned surgeons as quickly as she could.

“Help me find the crate!” she shouted. The screams that filled the small operating area were sure to draw attention.

Revo began searching the perimeter of the cargo bay, but if the crate was as large as Yoke described, it wasn’t here. Jyra drew the dagger across the throat of the last struggling surgeon, reminding herself they were enemies. Revo swung a large cabinet door open as Jyra let the body fall from her grasp.

“Got it,” he said. He extracted a white crate that matched Yoke’s description. He stood back as Jyra moved to inspect it herself.

“Looks like the tape’s intact,” Jyra said. “Let’s go.”

Revo, however, was looking at the body on the operating table.

“What is it?” Jyra asked, still crouching by the crate.

“I remember this man from the base,” Revo said, his small eyes narrowing. “I saw him many times.”

Jyra hadn’t even glanced at either body undergoing surgery. She, too, stood up and looked at the man. His eyes were closed, but his head kept twitching to one side and then moving back. A mask with a tube attached sat askew on his face. He had multiple scratches and bruises on his chest and abdomen. Several incisions near his stomach had been recently stitched shut.

His round body and head reposed under a thinning crop of golden hair. Jyra glanced at a screen behind her on the wall and saw the patient name in a corner. Her knees gave way and she had to grab the table to stay upright as two revelations struck her simultaneously.

“Terrence Biggs,” she gasped. His daughter, Charis, had the exact same hair, though not as thin. This was a Resistance donor. It was the second memory, a memory so profound, it felt as though the past reached out and pulled her back to the moment she read the letter that said she was to be forced to work for Tyrorken Fuels. Terrence Biggs had signed that letter.

“He doesn’t have long,” a weak voice stuttered from the floor.

Jyra held her dagger before her and knelt next to the surgeon. She lay on her side, her breaths coming in quick gasps. Jyra had stabbed her in the chest. The surgeon was middle-aged and thin with unfocused gray eyes. Her mask had slipped off her face and dangled around her neck.

“Where was he found?” Jyra asked.

“The holding area of the complex,” the surgeon said. She coughed and a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth.

“The holding area on the sixth floor?” Jyra suggested and the surgeon nodded.

“Not sure how he survived the fall,” she said.

Jyra took a deep breath and felt the scar on the back of her dagger hand. A woman with a similar job as the one in front of her had made the cut with both cruelty and intention.

Terrence groaned and mumbled.

“We need to leave,” Revo said and Jyra heard him dragging the crate.

“You say he’s dying?” Jyra asked. The surgeon nodded again.

“Heavy internal bleeding.”

“Looks like you’ve worked on him,” Jyra said, nodding at the stitches. “I’ll save you some time. Maybe you can save yourself.”

She stood up and took her brother’s dagger, holding it above one of his old superiors, someone who, as far as Jyra was concerned, was responsible for his death. She drove the blade into Terrence’s chest and his eyes flew open, but he could only muster a soft grunt.

“This dagger belonged to my brother who died working for TF,” Jyra said through gritted teeth, staring into the wide, terrified eyes. “You don’t deserve such a merciful end. If I see them, I’ll pass the news of your death to your wife and daughter.”

The surgeon lowered her face. Jyra saw her disappointment as she pulled the dagger free and nodded at Revo. They lifted the crate out of the cargo hold and carried it as fast as they could to their transport. No one else was waiting for them in the hold.

“Fire it up,” Jyra told Revo. “I’ll look for the others.”

“Are you all right?” Revo said, his eyebrows elevated with skepticism. “What was that all about?”

“Everything I said was true,” Jyra replied. “If we make it out of here alive maybe I’ll tell you the whole story. Hurry.”

Jyra glanced toward the leadership craft as she descended the ramp and noticed the gathering of security crafts hovering above the rubble. They borrowed the design of the angular leadership transport; a sharp, pointed bow, long sweeping stabilizers at the stern, and bedecked in shiny black livery. The body of the craft itself seemed squat and bulky compared to the jutting extremities. Jyra paused, surveying the security fleet.

How were they supposed to get back to the bunker? Mere liftoff would attract hostile attention. For a moment, Jyra considered returning on foot, lugging the crate, but the forest was too far away. They would be spotted for sure.

Jyra glanced behind the other medical transports and still saw no sign of Kip or Tony. She returned to the cargo hold and retrieved her pistol.

“Hold off,” she called to Revo.

“What do you mean?” he replied from the cockpit.

“We can’t leave,” Jyra said. She joined him up front and pointed out the problem. “Look at all the security. They’ll lock onto us if we try to run.”

“What do we do?” Revo said.

“Stay here and guard the crate,” Jyra said. “I need to find the others and then we can come up with a plan.”

Jyra left the transport again, but this time she clutched her gun to her side. She checked the ship she and Revo robbed. The surgeons, including the one Jyra spoke to, were all motionless on the floor. Jyra saw one of Terrence’s hands hanging off the edge of the table. A thrill of rage rushed through her and she wanted nothing more than to be next to the dead man, emptying her pistol into him. The circumstances kept Jyra in place and she gripped the threshold of the ship.

She gave Terrence’s hand one last glare and moved on. She had to find the others, but the search was brief. She didn’t even make it to the second transport when Kip and Tony appeared behind it, heading toward their ship.

“No good,” Kip said.

“It’s fine, we got a crate,” Jyra said.

“Perfect,” Tony said, his glum expression vanishing at once.

“But if you notice what’s above us, you’ll see we can’t just fly out of here,” Jyra said.

The men glanced upward and Jyra saw a gulp travel down Kip’s throat.

“We need to go now,” Tony said, urgency reclaiming him instantly.

“Back to the ship,” Kip said. “We’ll figure something out.”

Jyra followed the others and observed another ship appear in the sky, dropping toward the rubble.

She hadn’t seen the body style before, a small shuttle, but she recognized the logo on the side of it immediately. Jyra would never forget the pair of oilrig towers that graced all TF property and paperwork.

“What are they doing here?” she muttered, pausing on the ramp. She felt Kip stop beside her.

“Tyrorken Fuels,” he read the name aloud on the side of the shuttle. “The first resistance you were in before fought against them, right?”

“I’m surprised you remember,” Jyra said. “Looks like they’re in league with the Hospitals.”

“Maybe we’ve been fighting a common enemy all along,” Kip said. He proceeded into the transport without another word.

Jyra knew she had to move. They had what they needed to save comrades at the bunker, but her boots were fused to the ramp. She watched the shuttle land next to the Hospital leadership transport. The distance made it hard to judge which parties belonged to TF and the Allied Hospitals, but Jyra witnessed plenty of handshaking and, to her outrage, the customary Tyrorken gesture of mourning.

She resisted the urge to sneak closer to the distant ship and instead walked to the top of the ramp. The three men were circled around a floor hatch, discussing methods to escape.

“We need a chaotic event,” Revo said. “Something to distract them.”

Berk and Leonick were able to sabotage tugs and make debris rain from space, Jyra thought. The trash ring seemed to be under control again, which meant they had to find other options to create a distraction.

“No ship-mounted guns on this?” Jyra said, knowing the answer, but hoping Revo would contradict her. He shook his head. Jyra leaned against the doorjamb, hand on her pistol, thinking hard. A faint crackle of static drew her attention and she ran to the medical transport she and Revo attacked.

“We are ready to transfer Biggs,” a voice said through a radio. “Please acknowledge and verify him prepped for release.”

Jyra scrambled into the cargo bay and grabbed the radio mic.

“He’s ready,” she said tersely, trying to mask her panic.

“Very good. On our way up now,” the unknown speaker replied.

Jyra crawled out of the transport, knees from shaking. She had invited a whole host of hostiles right on top of her grounded ship. She tried to reassure herself, certain that preserving radio silence would have brought the entire security contingent down upon them. They should have a smaller crowd coming their way at least.

Jyra returned to her transport, hoping to walk into an established plan. She made sure to close the door behind her. She wished the artillery at the battery still worked, but Berk and Leonick successfully decommissioned the site. Smoke rose in the distance and Jyra cast a glance at the rubble before the door closed.

“Everything all right?” Kip asked.

“Got a plan?” Jyra said.

Tony shook his head, staring at the floor, his eyes wide and forehead shining with sweat.

“Then it’s not all right,” Jyra said. “Revo mentioned chaos. That sounds like a good place to start.”

She joined the others in the circle, expecting a solution.

“Any of those security ships will catch up to us,” Kip said. “They’re already airborne.”

“So we need to ground them, right?” Jyra said, glancing at Revo.

“Of course,” he said. “If they land, we can outrun them, but how do you intend to manage that without heavy artillery?”

Jyra thought of the canon set up next to Mastranada. Was it even worth considering the idea?

“What are you thinking?” Kip said.

“We only retrieved bodies and files from the complex before it fell,” Jyra said. “I didn’t see anyone grab weapons.”

“You’re suggesting we search through two collapsed floors to get to artillery that may or may not work?” Kip said. “They may have been crushed or jammed with dust.”

“We have to get out of here,” Jyra said, trying to keep her voice level, but she heard the volume rising. “We have what Yoke needs, but we can’t lead the security fleet back to the bunker. No enemy follows us.”

“Why is the door closed?” Tony asked, as though he’d just noticed the oppressive darkness.

“I heard a radio transmission when I just checked on the transport next to us,” Jyra said, picking her words carefully. “The leadership is coming to collect one of the patients. I figured a small barrier between us and them would be useful.”

“The patient must be an agent for Tyrorken Fuels,” Kip said. “The Hospitals are trading the agent for something else.”

“We don’t know that. Even if we did, it doesn’t help us escape!” Jyra said. She was already lying to the others. She could feel Revo’s gaze. He knew Jyra omitted information about killing Terrence.

“We can leave through the belly,” Tony said, looking at the hatch at his feet. “Make a quick search of the rubble and return. It’s probably best we aren’t here if leadership is so close. High profile guards with them shoot to kill.”

Kip shrugged and shook his head.

“I don’t like it but there’s no other way.”

They did their best to conceal their weapons once they crawled from beneath the ship. Kip and Tony strapped the large guns to their backs. They crossed the barren patch of dirt between their transport and the rubble. Just as they began stepping over and around chunks of concrete, five security ships overhead roared to life. They swooped toward them and Jyra nearly pulled her pistol, an ineffective weapon against security craft, but enough of a provocation to encourage a fiery rebuke.

“Just keep walking!” Jyra shouted, recovering herself. “If they thought we were enemies, we’d already be dead!”

The security ships landed near the field team transport. Their engines blew another wave of dust off the rubble that enveloped the resistance team. Jyra coughed as the cloud penetrated her mouth and nostrils, seeming to soak up all the moisture in her lungs. She stumbled and fell, but her arms caught her against a great slab. They reached the edge of the fallen complex. Jyra realized the security ships were likely responding to the slaughtered surgeons and felt her fear ease.

Under the cover of the swirling dust cloud they scurried upward, hands and feet slipping on loose blocks of concrete. Though most were pinned in place by others in the pile, some slabs were loose and they slid or rocked, threatening to crush or trap those who climbed upon them.

Despite the hazards, Jyra made it to the top of the rubble along with the rest of the company. They moved toward the concave center, keeping an eye on the security crafts above them. Allied Hospital agents were already digging through the rubble below them with the excavators at their side.

“Fifty or sixty workers at least,” Tony muttered as they picked their way over the uneven ground, trying to dodge twisted rebar and tangled wire. “They’re spread out, but the smaller units are still impossible to pick off.”

“We’ll either have to surprise them, or act like we’re part of their crew,” Jyra said.

“Surprise won’t work,” Tony said. “We can’t stay hidden for long.”

Jyra knew he was right, which meant she was going to have to engage. She only hoped the dust covering her outfit made a sufficient disguise.

“Look,” Kip said, pointing. “Two square shafts. Those were the stairwells at either end of the hallway.”

Though shattered and collapsed with the rest of the building, the square hollow columns for stairs between floors were easy to see amid the sea of gray and white debris.

“Head for them, then,” Jyra said. “Weapons will be near there.”

One of the excavators, accompanied by a ground crew, also happened to be in the same area. As they got closer, Jyra realized they were likely working right over the hallway of bloodshed. It was hard to know just by looking at the debris which floor the crew was currently excavating. Kip pointed to the far stairwell and Jyra saw the black scorch marks.

“Laser cannon,” she said and Kip nodded.

At that moment, a member of the ground team spotted the new arrivals, or at least decided to hail them and began hopping from slab to slab, coming their way.

“Who are we?” Revo whispered quickly.

“We were sent here to help with rescue and recovery or in any way we can,” Jyra replied. “No need to overcomplicate this.”

“More hands?” the worker asked. The hope in his voice seemed incongruous with his weary expression and bent, defeated posture.

“Indeed,” Jyra said. “We’re here to help.”

“Excellent,” the man said. “You can call me Stries. Sensors indicate we’re about to uncover some bodies buried in the collapse. No idea if any of them are alive, but until we find them, we won’t know. Follow me.”

They had no choice but to fall in step behind Stries as he led them toward the thrumming excavators. He was a head taller than Jyra, but it was hard to discern much more of his appearance. Gray dust covered him from his battered work boots to his flimsy brimmed hat.

Once they were right up next to the excavator, it was hard to talk over the deep hum of the engine. Shafts of light penetrated the rubble near the machine and, with a jolt of excitement, Jyra saw a familiar hallway through the gaps in the tumbled debris. She thought she could see bodies below, but she tried to focus instead on any shapes that might be a laser canon.

“This is what we’ve got!” Stries hollered, pointing at a slab that lay flat across two others leaning toward each other. “We’re going to lift the top piece and hope the two below it stay put. If they do, we’ll have a way into the corridor below and can start recovering bodies. Stand back.”

He gestured to the excavator operator and the boom swung over the target slab.

“Kip,” Jyra hissed, struggling to be heard and discrete at the same time. He nodded without looking at her.

“There’s an opening to the right of my feet,” Jyra said. “I’ll go down there and if I find the weapon, I’ll pass it up to you through that hole. Keep an eye out.”

Kip nodded again.

The excavator claw seized the slab and lifted. The slabs beneath began to cave, but the far upper corners of each collided before the nearer ones met, leaving a narrow opening.

“Not ideal,” Stries said.

The excavator soared to another potential rescue site nearby. Stries waved his team forward.

“Anyone want to slip through there?” Stries asked. Jyra saw trepidation on every face of the team, so she took the opportunity.

“I’ll go first,” she said.

“Careful,” Stries said.

Jyra stepped cautiously to the edge of the access point. She felt the vibration beneath her feet; the slabs were still settling.

“Let me get a rope,” Stries said after glancing at the distance of the drop to the floor.

“It’s all right,” Jyra said.

Stries gave her a searching stare. Normally, Jyra would have held onto the edge of the opening and lowered herself down, but the perilous nature of the slabs combined with the scrutinizing gaze of an enemy forced her to step forward and tuck her elbows against her sides. She dropped and landed in a crouch.

Dust swirled in the rays of sunlight, teased by sporadic breezes that penetrated the rubble. Despite the occasional break of illumination, darkness dominated the hallway. Jyra moved carefully in the gloom. The bodies, like everything here, were covered in dust. Jyra kicked her boots through the debris, but time after time, they hit only concrete or splintered wood.

Another kick, and she heard a metallic thud. She plunged her hand into the dust, heart pounding, and recovered a laser canon. She smiled in the dark, knowing they still had obstacles between them and the bunker, but now they had a chance to clear such barriers.

She moved under the opening she mentioned to Kip and grasped the end of the weapon, about to extend the butt into view, but she paused at the sound of Stries’ voice.

“You’ve got your badges, right?” he asked. “Almost forgot to check.”

Jyra swore she could hear the gritty dust grind under Kip’s feet with a nervous pivot. She peered upward and wished she hadn’t seen Kip patting his vest and the pockets of his trousers.

“I…I think we left them behind,” Kip muttered.

“All of you?” Stries said. “No identification?”

Jyra couldn’t see his face, but she felt the weight of his skepticism. It was as though he cocked a gun before the others. Jyra also realized Stries could seal her in a tomb of shattered concrete with a single command.

She froze, unable to tell if adrenaline or panic spread through her. She strode back to the entry point, knowing she only had one option. She picked a target and aimed, certain there was no other way.

As long as the ship gets clear passage back to the bunker, Jyra thought as she shouldered the laser canon. The sight light flashed green and she pulled the trigger, bracing for the recoil. She didn’t wait to see what happened, but leapt toward daylight, desperate to escape the ruined hallway. She cleared the slabs a familiar sensation coursing beneath her skin. An explosion overhead brought everyone’s attention skyward. Shrieks of grinding metal and the remains of a security craft plunged around them.

“Run!” Jyra shouted. “Get back to the transport!”

Stries pulled a handgun from under his jacket, but Kip grabbed him around the neck. Tony and Revo seized their weapons and fired on the assembled Hospital team as they fumbled to defend themselves.

“Run now!” Jyra shouted, lunging back they way they came. The detritus of the ruined security craft rained upon the rubble, battering an excavator to the ground. Most of Stries’ team disappeared under a sheet of loose engine cowl. Kip pushed Stries away and shot him before fleeing.

The tight assembly of the security ships proved useful; the explosion of the craft Jyra hit crippled three others. They plummeted into the rubble sending up clouds of dust large enough to remind Jyra of the sandstorms on Tyrorken.

They ran, but Jyra lagged behind as she kept an eye overhead. Any one of the security ships could open fire. If she kept all the threats in sight, she could attack before they could. Three-quarters of the way back, the barrage began. Streams of bullets sprayed around them and everyone took shelter in the rubble. The ship-mounted machine guns were powerful, but the ammo couldn’t penetrate the thick concrete.

“Hold position!” Jyra said. She aimed at the attacking ships, which dropped below the rest of the hovering craft and glided toward her. Before she pulled the trigger, she noticed the other security forces idling above and targeted one of them instead. The laser canon tore a hole in the stern and the craft spun into one of its neighbors. Both ships fell, one almost landing on top of Jyra but she was already running.

“Go, go!” she yelled.

Tony and Revo led the way across the ruins. They heard the whine of enemy craft engines and fell behind a slab for cover. The five security ships that landed around their transport rose into view, firing round after round. Revo jerked sideways as a bullet grazed his arm.

Jyra listened to the thunder of guns and heard as one stopped and then another. She checked behind her; the pursuing ships hadn’t made it through the dust yet. The attacking ships sat before her, defenseless as they reloaded. Jyra fired three times and two crafts fell immediately.

“Nearly there!” she shouted. “Keep going!”

The fallen ships sent up another cloud of dust on impact, creating more cover as the Resistance retreated from the advancing regiment. Jyra reached the edge of the rubble and started climbing down as fast as she could, clutching the laser canon. They all reached the ground and ran behind one of the fallen security crafts. Flames fed on the remains of the engine and kept Jyra and the others at a distance from their shelter.

Only two hundred feet away separated them from their transport, but two ground security teams moved in, trapping them where they stood. The guards wore black armor, matching the aesthetic of their crafts. Patches of dust rose under each foot as they advanced.

One team came from behind the medical ships and another crept along the edge of the rubble. The chatter from the radios sounded chaotic, but Jyra heard one phrase repeated in a screeching tone.

“Land all security ships now!”

The whine of multiple engines overhead filled the air as the order took effect. Three ships landed to the right of Jyra. The security team marching next to the rubble came from her left.

“Take cover and cover me,” Jyra said.

“What do you mean?” Kip said.

“Cover me from the team by our ship,” Jyra said. They were running out of time. She ran into the open near the bow of their burning shield. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the security team near the medical area aim at her, but she focused on the approaching enemy next to the rubble. She wrapped her arms around the laser cannon again and heard gunfire from her comrades. Jyra pulled the trigger and allowed the recoil to knock her to the ground. The laser struck a slab above the security team. Chunks of concrete both bigger than Jyra and smaller than her thumbnail blew in all directions. A large one struck the burning craft, causing it to lurch sideways and nearly pin Kip under its scorching carcass. An avalanche of other slabs buried the nearby team before they could raise a weapon.

The concrete shrapnel even hit the members of the other security team.

“Go!” Jyra shouted, struggling to get back to her feet. “Revo, grenade to me!” she added.

He tossed the explosive to her as he sprinted toward the remaining team with the others, firing their guns. Jyra felt the strength prickling in her muscles as she caught the weapon. She bit the pin, pulled the grenade free, and heaved it toward the security team. She drew the pistol out of her holster and opened fire as she ran for the transport. Three new security teams appeared from the crafts that landed nearby.

Tony reached the transport first as the grenade detonated in the middle of the nearby security team. He pushed his back against the hull, firing repeatedly as the guards screamed following the flash of the grenade. Tony gestured at Revo to get under the ship as he approached and the pilot disappeared. Jyra fired defensively and saw Kip behind Tony, beckoning her onward. He shot two security members targeting Jyra. She reached them and Kip ducked out of sight. Jyra felt the ship vibrating; it must be ready to fly.

“Time to go!” Jyra shouted.

“Get under there then!” Tony said, emptying his gun into the advancing team. Jyra dropped to the ground and crawled forward. She threw her weapons through the hatch and looked back before pulling herself inside. She paused, suddenly aware of the bullets striking the ship.

“Come on!” Kip shouted. She glanced above her and saw him kneeling down and seizing her arms. She ducked quickly and saw the silhouette of a body lying next to the ship, bullets ripping through the flesh and clothing. The bandaged arms and the sleeveless shirt could belong to no one else.

“Where’s Tony?” Kip asked. Jyra could only shake her head as she watched, unable to speak or act.

“Go!” Kip shouted at the cockpit.

Jyra felt him and the transport lift her up. She collapsed on the floor and saw the laser canon. Kip made to close the hatch.

“Wait,” Jyra said. As wind howled through the opening and bullets peppered the belly of the ship, Jyra slid to the hatch and released a final shot from the laser canon. The onslaught of bullets ceased as the security team disappeared in a cloud of dust and fire. The advancing teams retreated. Jyra lay back on the floor, sliding the canon away from her as Kip sealed the hatch. The roar of wind vanished.

“Where do I go?” Revo called from the cockpit. “None of the security ships are in the air, but they will be soon.”

Jyra stood up and followed Kip up front, struggling to keep her mind on task. They were still far from safety.

“Go back the way we came,” Jyra said, hoping she only sounded exhausted. “The long route you took. I guess we’ll see if anyone follows.”

Revo rotated the ship to point north, rubbing the bleeding cut on his arm.

“They’ll have to be quick,” he said. “Hang on.”

The pitch of the whining engine increased behind them. Revo leaned back in his seat and Jyra moved to the bulkhead, grabbing the edge of the door and flattened her back against the wall.

Revo squeezed an interlock button and pulled a lever toward him. The engine screamed and the ship jerked with immediate forward thrust. The ground below turned into a blur. They flew through the smoke rising from the ruined battery, but Jyra only saw it for a moment.

The rapid flight ended almost as soon as it began. The ship slowed over a distant forest. Revo dropped quickly toward the trees and flew as close as he dared to the canopy. He glanced back at his passengers.

“Didn’t know this had a slingshot drive? Standard on field team vessels,” he grinned through the gray dust, but the smile fell in seconds. “Where’s Tony?”

“He didn’t make it,” Kip said.

“What, how?” Revo said. “He was the first one to get back.”

“And he covered us,” Jyra said. “They got him.” She had to pause as her throat tightened around the words. “I’m sure they hit him as he was about to crawl for the hatch. I saw the bullets.” She paused again and returned to the hold, eyeing the white crate in the corner.

“We’ll be back soon,” Revo said in a hollow voice. “Hope the crate has everything Yoke needs.”

Part XXXVI: Voices of the Dead

Gray dirt swirled in the lukewarm water pouring into the shower drain. Jyra pushed her face into the gentle spray, feeling the grit sliding over her cheeks and lips. She scrubbed her hair and watched the water around her toes turn black.

Steam filled the room as she stepped onto the floor mat and retrieved a towel. Jyra stared at the vapor. It reminded her of the mist she had seen over the Silanpre valleys, vast blankets of fog obscuring the land beneath them. It had been months and Jyra still spotted significant differences from Tyrorken. On her home planet, she never saw windows or mirrors masked by condensation; the arid climate absorbed all spare moisture. In the washroom, Jyra faced the sink. She glimpsed herself in the mirror before showering. Dust from the demolished Allied Hospital intelligence complex had settled in her hair and crept into every layer of clothing. The outfit from the mission lay crumpled on the floor, looking as though it had been dyed gray.

Jyra returned her attention to the mirror and wiped the fogged glass with a corner of her towel. She saw her face, framed by wet hair, staring back at her. The last time she looked in a mirror with such intention had been in her bedroom on Tyrorken.

Dario had just died, Jyra thought. Now Dania lost her brother. Grief subsided during the shower, but Jyra bowed her head as the unbidden memory returned. She felt the jolt of dread while watching Tony’s fallen form. His death was doubly difficult to accept since Jyra couldn’t help feeling responsible.

She initially wanted him to join the mission because he had circled the complex during the first strike and would be familiar with the surroundings. The moment she saw him approaching the transport across the courtyard and registered his distress, she wished she had turned him away. I even knew we were all fatigued, too tired to launch another mission,Jyra thought. His sister’s life was on the line.

Despite the awful loss, the mission had technically been a success. Revo managed to fly free of the combat zone, leaving the Allied Hospital security crafts behind. He landed the transport next to Mastranada and helped Kip lug the crate to Yoke. Serana met Jyra at the base of the ship ramp and immediately noticed Tony’s absence.

“We couldn’t save him,” Jyra said, unable to meet her friend’s eyes. “We couldn’t have escaped without him.”

“Then he died for a noble cause,” Serana said. “He helped save more lives.”

“We don’t know that,” Jyra said, feeling despair taking over.

Serana laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder and Jyra forced herself to make eye contact.

“I told you I was alive because of you and Kip, but Yoke deserves some credit, too,” Serana said. “He’s been doing great work under pressure. If anyone will capitalize on Tony’s last act, it’s him.”

Serana’s gaze seemed to penetrate beyond her eyes and grip Jyra’s mind. Jyra returned the encouraging expression and then an oppressive wave of questions broke on her tongue. She felt dizzy and Serana took her arm.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” she suggested. “I’ll take you to the washroom. Berk stowed your duffel aboard Mastranada. He’ll want”— Serana broke off abruptly.

“What?” Jyra asked.

“Nothing,” Serana said. “I collected some clothes from your duffel and took them into the washroom already. A good shower will help.”

They entered the bunker and Jyra shuffled after Serana, succumbing to the questions bombarding her mind. What was Serana about to say about Berk? How were Yoke’s patients? Had the crate mission actually mattered? Where was Kip?

Beneath it all, Jyra sensed the stirring curiosity within as she glanced over her shoulder before rounding the corner in the bunker passage. She caught a glimpse of the jutting stabilizer. How had TF crashed back into her life—wreckage from a company freighter, the return of members of the TF Resistance, the Hospital ship meeting the TF shuttle, and Terrence Biggs, a TF employee and a donor to the Resistance on Silanpre—with such synchronicity?

Jyra scrutinized her expression, her fingertips brushing her puffy eyelids and guiding wet strands of hair behind her ears. She craved sleep, but her mind was far too alert. She tugged on the pair of clean, faded trousers and slid her arms into the sleeves of a button-up shirt. She held her own gaze in the mirror as she secured the buttons in their respective holes.

TF seized her attention again as she collected the dusty clothes from the floor. Jyra had placed the pistol next to the sink, but she nearly forgot about her brother’s dagger in the pocket of the dirty trousers. She would never forget stabbing Terrence Biggs. Carefully, she ran the blade under the tap, scrubbing free what blood remained. Once it was clean, Jyra placed the dagger in her pocket. She wiped the dust off the holster and pistol as best she could and secured the belt around her hips. The odor of powder from the firearm filled her nose and she pushed the renewed grief aside.

Jyra left the room and dropped the soiled clothes in a nearby washing unit. She had an urgent need to find Kip, but had no idea where to find him or what to say. She wanted to apologize and defend her point of view. It seemed impossible to manage either with sincerity in a single conversation. Jyra didn’t know all the sources of Kip’s anger, which only added to her anxiety. She suspected he was upset that she trusted Meriax. Maybe that’s why he chose to mention how many Resistance members were killed during the raid on the complex.

Jyra stopped several steps into the courtyard. She hadn’t considered Meriax at all since she returned. She had been injured, but nothing life-threatening. Even so, Jyra had discovered some information on the last mission and she wanted to see what Meriax thought of it.

The stabilizer captured Jyra’s attention again. It was hard to ignore its presence, especially since it reminded her of the curious meeting she witnessed between TF and Hospital leadership. Hardly an hour had passed since her return to the bunker and Jyra already wanted to leave. Her leg twitched and she wished to fly away, take off and keep going up, leaving the ruined courtyard behind. The momentary fantasy provided a means to answer a real question concerning the stabilizer. Where did it come from? She knew the class of ship it belonged to and if part of it was here, the rest had to be nearby.

Jyra discouraged the inner strategizing immediately. This was no time to launch another mission. Conversation demanded priority over action. Tony must be properly honored, along with the rest of the dead and wounded. The damage to the fleet in the courtyard had to be assessed. On top of it all, Jyra longed to speak to Kip and Serana, though not at the same time. Unfortunately she couldn’t look for them now, because a gruff voice called her name and she saw Berk coming toward her, hair wafting behind him with each stride. He took a long pull from a bottle as he approached. He tugged the glass neck free from his lips and whiskers when he stopped before her.

“Tell me next time your going into a combat zone,” Berk said. The gruff rasp was gone, replaced with a pleading tone that didn’t suit him at all.

“It was short notice,” Jyra said, taken aback by the delivery. “I wished you had been there.”

“Just say the word,” Berk said. “There’s always time for that.”

“I will,” Jyra said, hearing an edge in her words. Something wasn’t quite right. Berk nodded and turned to leave.

“I will if I think it’s necessary,” Jyra amended. Berk stopped and glanced at her.

“Sounded necessary this time,” Berk said. “I heard someone died.”

“It could have been you,” Jyra said.

“As long as it wasn’t you.”

“You think you need to protect me?”

“You wouldn’t be here if Leonick and I hadn’t got you out of that building.”

“I wouldn’t be on this planet if it weren’t for you two,” Jyra said.

“You were lucky to get out,” Berk said.

“I’m sure,” Jyra replied, unable to hide the sarcasm. Berk held her in a steady stare and she saw his eyebrows nearly unite above his nose. The moment of anguish was as uncharacteristic as his bizarre tone. “I’m glad you came,” she said. She took several steps to Berk’s side, laid a hand on his massive forearm, and returned his gaze. “And you’re right. We would have failed without your assistance. I’m trying to keep this resistance alive along with the people in it. I’m trying to lead. We lost one comrade on this last mission and we need to pay our respects to him and the others. His sacrifice may have saved ten other lives. When I need your help, I’ll ask for it.”

“Understood,” Berk said. “You’re in the cockpit and I’m no mutineer, at least not against you.”

“This isn’t all me,” Jyra said, sensing an ease in the tension. “I’m the newcomer here.”

“Well, you’ve done good work from what I can tell,” Berk said. “Keep leading.”

“What happened to your flasks?” Jyra asked, nodding at the bottle.

“Crushed most of them,” Berk said. “Still got the one you gave me, though. Going got a little tougher recently and most of the flasks became undersized in the tenser moments.” He made a crushing gesture with his fist.

They both smiled and Jyra pushed off his arm, suddenly aware that Berk’s concern for her safety might have been mitigated had he known the gift she received from the Hospital. Now didn’t feel like the right moment to explain it.

“Let’s go to the ship,” Jyra said. “I need to check on Yoke. Also, Serana started to say you wanted something from me. What’s that about?”

“I’ve said my piece,” Berk grunted as they climbed into the cargo bay. “Also letting you know about moving your duffel. Thought it’d be safer in here. It’s in one of the forward cabins. You’re welcome to stay in there if you want.”

“Thanks,” Jyra said.

Berk nodded and veered toward the wall to check on several crates of supplies.

Barlen met Jyra inside Mastranadaat the entrance to the recovery area.

“I thought you might be along,” he said. Jyra was relieved to see his nausea had subsided.

“Yoke said to thank you for the crate,” he continued. “He’s already putting it to use.”

“How are the patients?” Jyra asked.

“Yoke said the crate has given the ten a fighting chance.”

Jyra nodded, wishing her relief could supersede the guilt and sadness of losing Tony. Almost as if he read her thoughts, Barlen leaned forward.

“Tribute to the fallen is set for tonight in the courtyard,” he said. “Serana is spreading the word.”

“Thanks for saying” she said, regretting her wooden tone. “How is Meriax?”

“You’re welcome to see,” Barlen said.

Jyra followed Barlen into a room that had once been hers. The sleek, dull gray walls were bare and two sconce fixtures threw a dim glow upon the floor. Meriax relaxed with her back against the wall with her legs stretched out on the small bed. Her right shoulder and thigh were both bandaged and dried blood lingered in the ends of her blond hair.

“How did your mission go?” Meriax asked.

“That can wait,” Jyra said, relieved to see Meriax alert and sitting up. “How are you?”

“Fine except for the obvious,” Meriax said. “I’ve got a couple shrapnel wounds and I’m still recovering from the meds.”

She paused and gazed at Jyra as though struggling to recognize her.

“Why are you looking after me?” Meriax asked.

Serana’s words emerged from the past.

“Those you bring in, you look after,” Jyra said. “Of course, you found your own way into the base, but I dragged you into this particular campaign.”

Meriax turned her large eyes onto her injured leg and picked at the bandage.

“I guess we’re both to blame,” she said. Her voice became stronger and Jyra sensed the feeling in the room shift. She barely finished considering how the statement referred to Meriax’s wounds before she saw an opening.

“You’re right,” she said, crossing the room and running a finger along the opposite wall, letting the chill on her fingertip ground her.

“We’re both to blame for our mutual game,” she said.

Meriax glanced at Jyra but continued to watch her finger on the wall.

“You knew the files were hard copies,” Jyra said.

“I was curious how one hacks into a database of physical files,” Meriax said.

“Is there a digital equivalent somewhere?” Jyra asked.

“You’re not going after it now, are you?” Meriax said.

“I won’t go after something unless I know it exists,” Jyra said.

“You didn’t even know the format of the files you just stole,” Meriax said. “Didn’t stop you.”

“Does a digital database exist?” Jyra said and Meriax shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “This was the only one I knew about.”

“What was on the sixth floor?” Jyra said.

Meriax averted her gaze too quickly. She picked at the bandage harder than before.

“Swallow whatever you’re about to say,” Jyra said, rolling her eyes. “I know it’s a lie. Try again.”

“It was a detention black site,” she said. “I never knew for certain, but everything indicated it was.”

“What was it used for?”

“Detaining people.”

“What sort of people?”

“Important ones, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I was a spy not a prison warden,” Meriax said. “My best guess is an operation like the Allied Hospitals has to rely on political and judicial insiders, local and interplanetary, in order to survive. Using that power against adversaries means the defeated have to be put somewhere, likely black sites.”

Jyra considered the hypothesis and felt her hand moving toward the pistol on her hip. Meriax seemed incapable of attacking, but continued to appear unnerved. Even her guess lacked something, an omission of an important detail. The delivery had to be part of Meriax’s spy training.

“Anything else I can help you with?” she said, looking up from her leg.

“Assuming the hospital operates black sites, why would you guess they are only used for imprisoning adversaries?” Jyra asked.

Meriax sat up straighter against the wall and her large eyes narrowed with sudden concentration.

“What are you getting at? That they use them for protective custody?”

“Black sites can’t operate on their own,” Jyra said, charging ahead with her idea. “They need a transportation network to shuttle prisoners. I’m suggesting that not everyone at a black site is treated as a hostile.”

Meriax fell silent and relaxed against the wall. Jyra suddenly heard the blood thudding inside her ears. Almost without thinking, she extracted her pistol and aimed it at Meriax.

“What are you doing?” Meriax said, stiffening.

“If Kip is right about you, I should pull the trigger right now,” Jyra said. She looked beyond her firearm at Meriax whose eyes widened with fear while her fingers dug into the mattress. Jyra suddenly remembered how Serana had advocated for her to be part of the resistance out of admitted self-interest.

“It’s an easy trap,” Jyra said aloud.

“What is?” Meriax said.

“Convincing yourself that someone is something they’re not,” Jyra said.

“Can you…lower the gun?” Meriax said, raising her hands. “That will hurt more than punching me in the face. I can’t make any fast moves.”

Jyra returned the pistol to the holster as casually as she had drawn it, but she kept her hand on the grip.

“Is Kip right about you?” Jyra asked. “Are you just a spy waiting to turn on us all? You need to start giving me plain answers.”

“I wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t support the cause,” Meriax said.

“What cause?”

“That of the resistance,” Meriax said.

“Why do you care?” Jyra said. “The Allied Hospitals loom large here, but I’m sure you had many paths to choose from besides spying for them. Back in the base, you said you just wanted to survive.”

“I want to live,” Meriax said. “There’s a difference. And there weren’t many options for me. My parents died when I was young and I was out on the street for as long as I can remember.”

“How did they die?” Jyra asked.

“I suspect the Hospitals had something to do with it,” Meriax said. “And once I had enough money to afford a new identity, I volunteered to be a spy. I wanted to take down the Allied Hospitals from within. It’s easy to dream it and nearly impossible to do it.”

“Why haven’t you declared your support for the resistance then?” Jyra asked. “Why are you still equivocating?”

“I’ve never been sure which side I was on, I’ve been a spy most of my life after all,” Meriax said. “At their cores, the Allied Hospitals and the resistance oppose each other. The manufactured crossover of spies tells a different story. At some level, there’s cooperation between the two. This resistance, isolated from the main resistance, is easier to trust. It’s smaller, more focused. We’re all united to bring down the Allied Hospitals.”

“Did you just defect?” Jyra said.

“As long as I’m no longer accountable for past actions,” Meriax said. “I’d be honored to join. You know how useful I can be.”

Jyra thought of Kip and Serana and wished one or both of them were present to witness Meriax’s request. It seemed risky to forgive some transgressions Jyra knew nothing about. What if Meriax had a part in organizing Fritz to sabotage the Emarand Liberationmission? Berk told Jyra to keep leading. She couldn’t ignore the injuries on the woman before her, injuries sustained serving a resistance mission.

“All right,” Jyra said, dropping her hand from her weapon. “Leave the past behind and start fresh as a member of the resistance.”

“Thank you,” Meriax said, her eyes lighting up.

“Just because you’re forgiven doesn’t mean you can forget,” Jyra said, trying to keep her delivery even. “Do you have any information right now that we can use for offensive or defensive purposes?”

“When they brought me in here, I caught a glimpse of the courtyard,” Meriax said. “What happened to the ships?”

Jyra quickly explained the arrival of the stabilizer.

“Perfect,” Meriax said. “That makes an excellent cover. To better conceal activity at the bunker, select a few of the best ships and park them elsewhere in the forest. Maybe set off some explosives in the courtyard to really work it over. The Hospitals hit this place before. They’ll patrol it again. The crashed stabilizer was part of a crisis spread across miles. Its appearance shouldn’t attract unwanted attention.”

“I’ll get a team working on it,” Jyra said. “Good idea.”

She took a deep breath, preparing to ask if any resistance donors served as spies, but a knock on the door interrupted the opportunity.

“Come in,” Jyra said, as Meriax lay back on the bed.

The door opened and Kip stepped into the room. He looked as dour as he had lugging the crate off the transport with Revo. Like Jyra, he had found a shower and now wore a baggy, long-sleeve shirt and a loose pair of trousers. His laced boots still bore the gray dust from the fallen complex.

“Can we talk?” Kip asked. He and Jyra stared at each other for a moment. Kip finally glanced at Meriax, who gave him a sarcastic smile and a two-fingered salute with her uninjured arm.

“We’ll talk later,” Jyra found herself muttering as she shuffled toward the door. “Feel better.”

“I already do,” Meriax said.

Kip led Jyra out into the courtyard, both of them walking in silence. Kip finally sat down on a crushed ship engine in the shadow of the stabilizer.

“How are you doing?” Kip asked.

“I’d feel better if we all made it back,” Jyra said.

“Me too,” Kip said. He pushed his bangs off his forehead and looked sideways, clasping his hands before him. Jyra joined him on the engine.

“It’s more than losing Tony,” she said.

A constricted half-laugh escaped Kip’s mouth and he nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I hate that your friends are here, I hate that you’re standing by the spy, I hate the number of casualties we’ve suffered, and I hate that this all feels like some colossal mistake.”

“Meriax just swore to serve the resistance,” Jyra said gently.

“After this spy debacle, I don’t think I could ever trust any of them.”

“It’s why we got the files,” Jyra said. “We can identify them.”

“And do what?” Kip said. “The base is full of hostile forces now. How could we target identified spies or even get inside to do it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“My problem is bigger than the current spies,” Kip muttered. “Like I said, it’s an issue of trust. I spent months working on Graze’s salvage team. He trained me, I looked up to him. Do you have any idea what it was like to discover he was an enemy the whole time? I still have nightmares from doing that salvage work, but when I’m awake and remember those days, all I can think of is that traitor.”

“I found out my parents arranged to sell me into service for Tyrorken Fuels,” Jyra said. “Not quite the same as how you see your old boss, but it gave me a turn.”

“While we’re discussing family,” Kip said, “Berk mentioned something about Orastenbounty.” Jyra felt her stomach twist. How long had she had been waiting for this moment? Why had she waited and not faced it sooner? The timing couldn’t be worse. Why did she have to address it now?

“I’m sorry,” Jyra said. “I didn’t know.”

“What are you sorry for?” Kip asked.

“Captain Lyle Deleanor was your brother, wasn’t he?” Jyra said. “We attacked his ship as it fled Tyrorken after a skirmish with Nilcyns.”

“Who did it?” Kip asked.

Jyra fell silent as the circumstances surfaced in her memory. Macnelia had been shot during the siege of Orasten. Neeka, aboard Valiant Conductor II,saw her stricken friend and leader via a body camera and went for the laser cannons. Craig volunteered to stop her, but Jyra discovered the two of them each at a cannon having jointly fired on Orasten.

“The leader of my former resistance,” Jyra said. “The one who locked me in my quarters. Leonick helped me escape the ship. That’s how I got here.”

Kip stood up, taking a deep breath again. He rubbed the back of his head before turning to face Jyra.

He paused to take a deep breath and released it slowly.

“I need some space,” he muttered, casting his eyes to the ground.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Jyra said, aware that she was already backing away. “I wish I had been able to stop it.”

Reconciliation faced another delay. If he spoke to her again, Kip was going to ask why she hadn’t volunteered the information sooner and Jyra couldn’t think of an answer. Perhaps Kip’s request for space did them both a favor; each needed to consider the consequences of Orasten’sdestruction.

Jyra paused to survey the courtyard on her way to Mastranada. Meriax’s idea of relocating the viable ships to the forest seemed prudent and practical. Jyra thought of returning to see the former spy, but once on board, she decided to visit her own quarters instead. Night was approaching and she needed to prepare for the tribute for the fallen.

Jyra entered the corridor, trying to ignore the lamps blazing behind hanging sheets that formed a sterile barrier. She passed Meriax’s room and knocked on other doors as she moved toward the bow. Rooms were either empty or occupied by convalescing soldiers. When she finally opened a door after no one reacted to her knocking, she saw her duffel and knelt beside it, not even noticing the room around her. It was twice the size of the other crew quarters. A large bed filled an alcove opposite the door. A metal desk sat against the wall to the left and a dresser and wardrobe claimed most of the wall to the right. Jyra examined the furniture, aware it was all well-used but perfectly functional. She heard footsteps and immediately crossed to the door in time to see Berk plugging the passage.

“Serana gave me your duffel to put on board and Leonick and I agreed you deserve this room,” he said. “So that’s where I left it.”

“This is more than I need,” Jyra said.

“You’re welcome, Captain,” Berk said and Jyra felt the feeling drain from her face. “No pressure,” Berk added. “We wanted to let you know that even if you remain on Silanpre, this room will wait for you. People are starting to gather for the ceremony, by the way.”

Berk departed without another word. Jyra leaned against the door for support, her mind buzzing. She knelt by her duffel again and dug through the contents until she found the covered tin of charcoal. Jyra considered it and shook her head.

She pivoted on the floor to the nearby dresser and glanced back at her duffel. She placed a hand on one of the drawer pulls. She felt the cool metal on her fingers and drew them back. This wasn’t the time to make the decision.

Jyra took off her blue shirt and selected a darker one from her duffel. It seemed more appropriate for the ceremony.

Not that the dead care, Jyra thought. She shook her head, registering disbelief at the callous notion. Then she froze.

My mind is mine and I’ve got plenty to fight without attacking myself, Jyra thought.No more useless self-criticism. She left her quarters and noted the darkness behind the suspended sheets stretched across the medical area. Jyra entered the cargo bay and saw the dull glow of dusk settling beyond the open door.

The gathering clustered around a boulder near the bunker. Jyra recognized the towering rock as the one she, Kip, and Meriax had used to explain the purpose of the file heist mission to the soldiers and field teams. Two large portable lamps illuminated the boulder and the light reflected over the whole crowd. It was easy to see the toll of casualties, obvious by their absence. Jyra felt every step upon the rough earth bring her closer and she paused several paces from the edge of the gathering, attempting to steady her ragged breathing.

Her fingers found her mother’s locket. As she wrapped it in her palm, she felt her heart thumping. Serana ascended the boulder using a ladder and Jyra retreated toward the darkness. Only now did she understand her present duty to acknowledge the loss of those who were so palpably missing. As if that wasn’t enough of a challenge, such acknowledgement confirmed the deaths, legitimized them and made them true. Any lingering abstraction of the loss evaporated, leaving Jyra nauseated and short of breath.

Serana gazed down at the gathering with a somber expression, though she nodded and smiled at a few members of the crowd. She glanced toward the bottom of the ladder at one point, and Jyra suspected she was looking for her. Jyra spotted Berk with ease and guessed Leonick stood next to him at the back of the gathering. She recalled Berk’s advice to keep leading, and, fixating on the thought, she started toward the base of the boulder. She had no idea what she should say. She thought of Tony and things she might share, but the ceremony wasn’t just for him. As she circled the crowd to get to the ladder, Jyra suddenly realized she wasn’t aware of Dania’s status or the other nine wounded. She hadn’t met most of the soldiers or field team members before they marched to their deaths. If she had to give a speech, she would have to avoid specifics.

Jyra reached the ladder just as the lights dimmed. Darkness obscured even the faces of those near the front. Serana stared straight ahead and the prerecorded names of each fallen member of the resistance, read by the owner, echoed into the courtyard. A bell tolled between each name. Jyra listened, unaware that she still clutched her mother’s locket. The first time she heard the ritual in the main cavern of the base, the ceremony lasted about two minutes. Jyra made an effort on that occasion to memorize the list, but that wasn’t possible now given the vast number of the dead. Amid the unknown voices, a familiar name rumbled from the speakers. When Serana’s father spoke, his voice was quite unlike the one Jyra remembered. The forcefulness of the delivery hinted at a man both driven and energetic. He spoke his name boldly, unaware that it would be damaged along with the rest of his body in the coming years. Jyra chanced a glance at Serana, but she only inclined her head for a moment to honor her father.

Jyra felt as if something thrashed inside her stomach as the end of the names approached. When she heard his voice, Jyra inhaled; she had been unconsciously holding her breath. For the second time, the recording of Tony announced his death, but now it was true. Jyra leaned against the boulder as she encountered both grief and relief. Dania remained absent from the list, a small comfort after such a confirmation of loss.

Utter silence presided over the courtyard. Most lowered their heads, but Serana kept her unblinking gaze to the south. A breeze tugged on the surrounding conifers, rustling needles and bending limbs. The wind carried the smell of the forest into the courtyard. Clusters of clouds drifted in front of the stars. Jyra looked skyward and saw a planet about the size of her thumbnail. It commanded her attention before a trail of clouds marched in front of it. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed before Serana spoke.

“Thank you everyone. Peace to the fallen.”

She descended the ladder while most of the crowd made for the bunker. Jyra noticed Kip, his hair glowing in the starlight, walking fartherinto the courtyard. When Serana reached the ground, she and Jyra embraced.

“Shall we sit?” Serana asked as they separated. Jyra nodded, aware that her friend looked miserable for the first time that evening. They sat together on a tumbled stone arch.

“Are you a captain now?” Serana asked.

“Berk and Leonick seem to think so,” Jyra said.

“What do you think?” Serana said. She turned to look at Jyra, who found it hard to speak under her friend’s iron gaze.

“I don’t know,” Jyra said. “They moved me into the captain’s quarters on the ship and they want me to take command. I just found out about it half an hour ago. How did you know?”

“When I dropped your duffel off,” Serana said. “You’re considering the offer, though?”

Jyra paused, but any delay made matters worse.

“I’m considering running a recon mission to figure out where that stabilizer came from,” she said.

“After that, which resistance will you return to?” Serana asked.

“I don’t know,” Jyra repeated. “They might be one and the same.”

“What are you talking about?” Serana said.

“During the last mission, Kip and I both saw a Tyrorken Fuels ship land near the fallen complex. TF agents met with Hospital leadership. TF was trying to get one of their employees named Terrence Biggs from Hospital custody. He’d been held on the top floor of the complex in detention.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because we landed right next to a medical ship treating him.”

“But if he was in detention, it seems like TF and the Hospitals are more adversaries than friends.”

“Hard to say,” Jyra said. “Biggs worked in the Employee Compensation office at TF. He also had a wife and daughter on Silanpre. Donors working in the resistance. Crina and Charis.”

Jyra suddenly stood up, the memory of her disastrous meeting with the donors off the main cavern of the base taking over her mind.

“When Crina introduced herself, she mentioned her husband was held by the Hospitals,” Jyra said. “The donors used the mission that retrieved Kip, me, and Tony—” she paused, forced to reflect on the extra time they provided Tony by rescuing him. Serana gestured for her to sit and she draped an arm across Jyra’s shoulders.—“The donors used it as an excuse to complain about captured family members. Some grievances might have been legitimate, but Biggs had connections. I’m sure the files we got will incriminate his wife and daughter as the same sort of filth that infiltrated the resistance.”

Serana shook her head, staring at the dull ground before her.

“Were you there long enough to see if Biggs escaped back to TF?” she asked.

“No,” Jyra said, averting her gaze. “But all they got was his corpse.”

“You killed him?”

Jyra nodded.

“I can’t prove it, but he might have played a part in my brother’s death. The letter I saw that bound me to employment at TF was signed by Biggs.”

“I wish I could see the traffic directive logs,” Serana said. “The botched mission to retrieve you from the Hospitals, the bombing of this bunker, even the Emarand Liberationmission could have been sabotaged by traffic control.”

“We’ll have to dig into the files we have,” Jyra sighed.

“Or forget all of it,” Serana spat bitterly. Jyra glanced at her, unable to tell if she was serious, but her face was set.

“We don’t have the numbers to storm the base and it’s possible not every spy has a file,” Serana said. “All we can do is hope those sympathetic to our cause escape the base on their own. It’s fair to assume the base has been compromised. Attempting to reclaim it threatens the future of the resistance.”

Even as she did all but admit defeat, Jyra saw nothing of her friend’s fierce expression diminish.

“Your dad thought I was fit to fill your post because of my determination,” Jyra said. “Or at least the determination he saw in me. You set the bar high.”

The trace of a smile flickered on Serana’s stoic lips and was gone as soon as it appeared.

As though sensing Jyra’s curiosity, she suddenly spoke.

“Dad converted the first Hospital spies that entered the base. No matter who they threw at us, dad brought them around. The resistance was much smaller then and it was easy to spot newcomers. The first spy that got in and got out provided intel that led to an aggressive bombing campaign that nearly ended the resistance. I think it shook dad’s confidence and showed him he couldn’t win over anyone the Hospitals sent our way.

“Instead, the resistance began screening new members and if they suspected a spy, they kept them isolated. It became easier in the larger base. It kept spies apart and if they escaped, they only had fragmented knowledge.”

“Killing spies would have given away the position of the base?” Jyra asked.

“We were never sure if the Hospital gave spies such tracking,” Serana said.

“I could ask Meriax,” Jyra said.

“If you want,” Serana said. “If she has a tracker, though, the Hospitals would have already bombed us. But we occasionally hacked transmissions from the more idiotic spies and gained useful intelligence.”

“Meriax told me when she first got in, there were as many as fifteen spies in the base.”

“That’s way more than we could control,” Serana said. “I take responsibility for the oversight, but a lot of the attitude comes from the early days when the resistance was smaller than the number we have here.” She gestured at the dark bunker behind her.

“The greater size of the resistance definitely undermined dad’s handling of the spies. I made an effort to pick up the slack, but I was always distracted, trying to make a bigger difference.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Jyra said. “You did the best with what you had.”

“I could have been more vigilant.”

“Speaking of that, how did you know I wasn’t a spy?” Jyra asked.

“You were Eldred’s prisoner,” Serana said. “We knew enough about her to know she was up to no good.”

“How did you find me?” Jyra asked, thinking back to the dense forest. Serana had emerged from the underbrush undetected and shot Eldred twice.

“We picked up your pod on our scanners and since it couldn’t be identified, we were sure the Hospitals had spotted you, too.”

“Thanks for picking me up,” Jyra said.

“One of the best decisions I’ve made,” Serana said. “Go make me proud.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra said.

“I’ve got a lot of recovery ahead of me,” Serana said. “File sorting and healing are all I’ve got in my future. Go find where the stabilizer came from. I’ve been worried about you leaving to rejoin your former resistance and you’ve felt guilty about it. Put it all aside. As you say, our causes could be united. Find out if it’s true.”

“You sure?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Serana said. “Do your job, Captain.”

Jyra stood up and Serana rose with her, but noticeably slower.

“Meriax has sworn to the cause of the resistance,” Jyra said. “I witnessed it. We get a few more spies converted and the fight will be over. She had some ideas about how to conceal our activities here.”

“Dad was right about your determination,” Serana said. “We’ll move the last patients off your ship into the bunker tomorrow. Then you go find some answers.”