Category Archives: Kaosaam System

Jyra woke the next morning, unaware of where she was until she glimpsed the distant ceiling in the dim light. Waking up in the captain’s quarters was so surreal, she wasn’t sure she would ever get used to it. The unfamiliarity coupled with the demanding day ahead gave Jyra no time to further explore her new room. She dressed in a hurry and headed for the cargo bay.

As she moved down the passage, she noticed all the occupied crew quarters from the previous night were empty. Even Meriax was gone, as were the sterile sheet barriers to the makeshift operating area.

Only when Jyra turned into the cargo bay did Jyra finally see another person. Sunlight spilled through the large open door and Jyra approached Leonick, who was working on the door control panel.

“Good morning, captain,” he said.

“You don’t need to call me that,” Jyra said. “And good morning to you.”

“I thought you would appreciate being able to bypass the autolock during our space transit,” Leonick said, preempting Jyra’s inquiry about his work.

“Turning the whole cargo bay into an airlock?”

Leonick nodded.

“As long as you do not mind,” Leonick said. “Serana mentioned something about a mission today while patients were moved off the ship.”

“That’s fine,” Jyra said, amazed that Serana was awake before her. “We discussed as much last night.”

“She requested a favor,” Leonick said and he gestured to the open panel. “I thought this might be a useful modification regardless of your decision.”

“What did she want?”

“Captain on deck!” Berk called, startling them both.

“Do that again and you can find yourself another ship,” Jyra said, hoping Leonick had jumped more than she had; unlikely since he continued methodically turning a terminal screwdriver.

“Flexing the muscle of your command already,” Berk said, striding toward her. “How’d you sleep, captain?”

“None of your business,” Jyra said. “And keep the title to yourself.”

“Noted,” Berk said.

“Where is everyone?” Jyra asked.

“Mostly moved into the bunker,” Berk said. “Where else would they go?”

“Maybe another ship,” Jyra said.

“Serana wants to know if you are willing to bring the dead with us and release them beyond the trash ring,” Leonick said.

Jyra was taken aback by both the message and Leonick’s matter-of-fact delivery. Her mind snapped to watching Macnelia’s body, surrendered to the stars in the same fashion. She immediately tried to weigh the emotional and practical significance and, nearly in the same breath, questioned her fitness to be captain. But she was already nodding.

“Of course we will,” she said.

“They are already on board,” Leonick continued. “We will have help moving them here from the engine room before takeoff.”

Jyra nodded still more vigorously.

“The inner doors to the cargo bay aren’t airlock-rated,” she said, trying to ground herself with practicality. “We won’t damage the ship opening the main door in space?”

“Open the door and take a hard turn should do the job,” Berk said, leaning against the wall and staring out into the courtyard. “Duct dampers ought to seal relatively well so we won’t vent all of our air.”

Jyra glanced around the cargo bay, noting the secured crates, certain they would stay put. Her eyes flicked to the ceiling and, amazed she hadn’t noticed it sooner, saw Berk’s pod suspended from the beam hoist. Several guy cables stretched to the walls to keep the small vehicle from swinging during flight.

“What’s that doing up there?” Jyra asked.

“We needed more room,” Berk said shortly.

“For what?” Jyra asked.

“Permission to delay that discussion until we’re airborne?” Berk said.

“We’ll see,” Jyra said. “Any estimate when that will be?”

“An hour or two,” Berk said. “However long it takes to move the bodies and any other business you need to settle before we go.”

Kip happened to step out of shuttle in the courtyard at that moment. Jyra assumed he’d been helping move more valuable ships into the forest.

“I do need to check in with Serana,” Jyra said, hoping the others hadn’t noticed her watching Kip.

“We can’t leave without you,” Berk said. “Seriously, we don’t know where we’re going.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Jyra said. “We’ll need to come up with a complete strategy once we’re in space.”

Jyra found Serana in the mess hall. It felt like a basement more than other rooms in the bunker due to the sizable area of the floor, but the ceiling was just as high as everywhere else in the compound. Similar sterile sheets that hung in Mastranada cordoned off a corner of the room, though some patients were sitting on benches at the long tables. One woman stared straight ahead, her head and left arm wrapped in bandages. A man slumped over on a table, apparently asleep. Jyra thought he was snoring but it was just the sound of his ragged breathing.

Serana emerged from behind the sterile barrier, wiping her brow. She looked exhausted, but she smiled when she saw Jyra and made her way over.

“How are you?” she said.

“Nervous,” Jyra said. She almost reciprocated the question, but the answer seemed obvious.

“Yoke is finishing up with the last patient,” Serana said after an extended silence.

“I didn’t realize operations were being moved off the ship,” Jyra said. “Sorry I slept through it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Serana said. “Just make sure you make it back.”

“I don’t want to leave you or them,” Jyra whispered, indicating the patients at the table.

“You don’t have to,” Serana said. “Did Leonick pass along my request?”

“He did and we’ll do it,” Jyra said, suddenly finding it difficult to speak.

“I’ll get some people to assist,” Serana said. “Will you be ready in ten minutes?”

Jyra nodded. Serana reached out and took her hand.

“See you after your mission,” she said. Jyra couldn’t help feel boosted by Serana’s iron confidence.

“See then,” Jyra said. “Heal fast.”

She turned before Serana could see her gathering tears and made her way back to Mastranada.

She didn’t get far. Meriax was stretched out on a table near the door and wall. Unless Jyra had looked to her right as she entered, she wouldn’t have seen her. Meriax was fast asleep, her hair tumbled off the edge of the table. It seemed odd for an ex-spy to lower all defenses in such an exposed location, but Serana spoke over Jyra’s shoulder.

“I’ve spread the word about her declaring for us,” she said.

“Thank you.” Jyra wasn’t sure how she managed the words and she wasted no time leaving the mess hall.

“That didn’t take long,” Berk said when Jyra reappeared in the cargo bay.

“We’ll have help in a few minutes,” she said. The significance of fulfilling Serana’s favor struck her and she fell silent. Jyra twisted her fingers together and walked toward the rear corridor. She heard Berk’s footsteps, unusually soft, following.

Jyra reached the door. She glanced down the passage to the engine room entrance and discovered she couldn’t proceed.

Jyra had witnessed more death than the average person in the galaxy. She watched family, friends, and enemies die and her brother was the worst loss. Too much time passed between the news of his death and the funeral. Jyra never forgot catching a glimpse of his ragged body disappearing beneath the lid of the coffin.

The idea of the dead waiting to be released locked Jyra in place. She hadn’t gone into the engine room since it was repurposed as a morgue. That realization reminded Jyra of the night she and Berk stole this ship, which they managed by killing a guard in the engine room. She had no idea how the bodies were arranged or organized. Had they even been identified?

“You all right?” Berk asked from behind Jyra, who shook her head. She wasn’t sure what to ask, but willed herself to say something.

“How are the bodies?” she said.

“Each one is in a bag,” Berk said. “Folks came through to identify them all. Serana’s got a list. She mentioned the names read out last night match the list of those accounted for.”

Jyra nodded as a Berk fell silent.

“You don’t have to help with this,” Berk said.

“I must,” Jyra said, nodding toward the engine room. “Because they helped me.”

Serana’s team arrived just as Leonick replaced the door panel cover. Jyra and Berk led the way to the engine room.

One of the volunteers passed out masks before Jyra opened the door and switched on the lights. The astringent smell of the dead along with disinfectants and other treating agents Yoke employed stopped her. She couldn’t detect the odor of hot steel or grease under the suffocating horror that infiltrated the mask and filled her nose and lungs. She felt the group behind her shudder as the stench enveloped them.

A pair each seized a bag and carried it to the cargo bay. They stacked the bags near the open door. Jyra tried to maintain her attention to the dead, to honor the bodies she transported, but she couldn’t ignore her desperation to escape the smell.

The shrouded bodies resembled a wall of sandbags by the time they finished. The wrinkles in the black plastic gleamed, reflecting the lights overhead. Jyra managed to croak a hasty thanks at the retreating volunteers. The trio ran to the back passage and on toward the bow of the ship, closing every door behind them.

The bridge seemed unchanged from the last time Jyra saw it. Two main consoles sat on either side of the room. Six panels of reinforced glass stretched over Jyra’s head and curved down to terminate on the nose of the ship. The gray beams framing the glass were attached to the open steel studs, which had auxiliary equipment and control panels crammed between them.

Jyra pulled her mask free, staggered across the steel floor, and grabbed the edge of the starboard console. Leonick’s eyes were wide with uncharacteristic distress and most of the color disappeared from beneath Berk’s whiskers. Leonick shook his head, took a seat at a new set of controls behind Berk, and began strapping himself into his seat. Jyra automatically sat down, making a deliberate effort to not throw up; she could still taste the smell.

“Taking off?” she gasped. She was too distracted to bother inquiring about the function of Leonick’s new console. ‘

“I mean no disrespect by saying this,” Berk said, “I want to get those bodies into space as soon as we can.”

“Do not forget to close the cargo door, then,” Leonick said. “The ship will not do it for you now.”

Jyra thought of Kip and failing to say goodbye to him, but it couldn’t be remedied. They were set to depart and further delay offered no advantage.

“Let’s go,” Jyra said, throwing the switches to power the launch thrusters.

“Cargo bay is sealed,” Berk said. “Ready for thrust.”

Jyra felt the ship shudder around here and the distant trees lurched from sight as the launch thrusters boosted Mastranada off the ground.

Jyra squinted at the harsh blue sky before her as the ship shot upward, sweeping away from the planet. Within seconds, the blue yielded and the booster engine kicked in, jerking Mastranada closer to space. The nose of the ship glowed a brilliant orange and Jyra felt the gusts of heat penetrating into the cockpit. Then the silence settled as they transitioned to space. The sea of stars materialized, floating in endless darkness. But there was something else. Though it formed an incomplete loop around the planet, Jyra’s emergency escape vessel had been lucky to miss the trash ring during the approach. Ships five times the size of Mastranada could be destroyed or crippled by the larger pieces of refuse lazily orbiting Silanpre.

Jyra stiffened in her seat as she saw running lights moving through the revolving landfill.

“Another tug,” Berk grunted.

“You said you took a couple of them out,” Jyra recalled. “This ship doesn’t have projectile weapons.”

“She does now,” Berk said.

“After we pass the ring, you guys get to tell your story first.”

“Whatever you say, captain,” Berk said.

“Will they come after us?” Jyra said.

“We aren’t on their scopes yet,” Berk said.

“We can see them which means they can see us,” Jyra said.

“Yeah, but they have no idea what we are,” Berk said. “They have limited radar and tracking. Tugs don’t monitor traffic, just keep the trash contained or remove suspicious debris. They won’t be interested in us.”

“Even though this ship destroyed two of theirs?”

“If that one comes at us, we can destroy it,” Berk said, popping a cork out of a bottle that, as far as Jyra could tell, just appeared in his hand. As an afterthought, he added, “with the captain’s approval.”

Jyra hoped the tug maintained its current course. Several sharp taps on the glass overhead made her start.

“What was that?” she said.

“Small debris on its way back to the planet,” Leonick said. “We are passing through a field of smaller refuse. We need to plot a course through or around the main ring.”

“Working on it,” Berk said. “Almost a straight shot from here.”

“Radar warning!” Jyra said. “We’ve got another ship closing fast.”

“Leonick, lock onto them!” Berk shouted.

Jyra glanced over her shoulder and watched Leonick swivel in his chair to face a tiny targeting screen, the purpose of the new console no longer a mystery.

“Maybe the tugs remember you after all,” Jyra said to Berk, who took another long pull from the bottle.

“They won’t for long. And it’s not a tug.”

“They’re summoning by radio,” Jyra said, as the signal light blinked before her.

“Ignore them,” Berk said.

Jyra leaned forward to block the transmission request and remembered her place on the ship. She pressed the button and seized the broadcast mouthpiece.

“Captain of the Mastranada here.”

Berk and Leonick both stared at her in utter disbelief.

“Intriguing,” a deep voice replied. “Calling yourself captain of my ship. It’s time you returned it to its rightful owner.”

Jyra glanced at Leonick, keeping her line silent.

“You recognize his voice?”

“No,” Leonick said. “I just wanted people to buy my engines. Buyers could install them wherever and whenever they pleased.”

“I know you have no weapons so affirm your surrender or I will destroy that ship of mine and whoever happens to be aboard,” the voice threatened.

“Got a lock?” Berk said over his shoulder.

“Just about,” Leonick said. “They are almost in range.”

“How long?” Jyra said.

“Twenty seconds,” Leonick answered.

Jyra made eye contact with her shipmates as she sent another transmission.

“I think you’re mistaken,” she said.

“There’s no mistake,” the voice said. “That’s my ship. Do you surrender?”

Leonick gave a thumbs up and leaned toward his screen.

“You are wrong to suggest we have no weapons,” Jyra said.

“Ready to fire on your command,” Leonick called, loud enough to be heard through the transmission.

Jyra listened to the mechanical thumps and grinding of missile launchers targeting the enemy. The transmission light clicked off.

“Fire,” Jyra muttered. She felt Mastranada shudder from the launcher recoil.

A pair of missiles streaked toward the ring and, against the backdrop of twisted steel structures and industrial refuse, Jyra saw a ship maneuvering. The explosives faded into the distance. The target ship negotiated an evasive turn and everyone aboard Mastranada watched the glowing exhaust ports.

“If they get into the ring, the missiles could hit something else,” Jyra said.

“They won’t make it,” Berk said.

“Direct hit,” Leonick reported.

The distant exhaust ports flickered and then two drifted away from each other. Stuttering flames shot into space as the enemy ship broke apart. The debris spun toward the ring, briefly lit by fires that flashed into existence before suffocating without oxygen.

“Course is set,” Berk said. “Let’s go.”

Mastranada glided toward a tangled mass of steel beams. Jyra fixated on them, trying to figure out what purpose they might have served. Most details hid in the gloom; only a few edges of the beams caught the reflected light from Silanpre with enough sequenced timing to discern shapes.

As they neared the orbiting waste, Jyra heard Leonick’s chair squeak and she turned to see him staring at his screen.

“What’ve you got?”

“I am not sure,” Leonick said. “Some abnormal heat readings from the ring.”

“Probably just the wreckage,” Berk said.

“He recognized the ship,” Leonick said.

“Whoever he was, he’s dead,” Berk said.

“The weapons dealer,” Leonick said.

“What?” Berk and Jyra said together.

“He tracked us here,” Leonick said. “And it is possible this was his ship you two stole from Drometica. That is where we went for the goods.”

“What are you talking about?” Jyra asked.

“That ship must have chaos mines on board,” Leonick said. “Proceed with caution.”

“Chaos mines?” Jyra said, annoyed that her questions went unanswered. Berk heard the irritation in her words.

“Warship crews scatter them on the outside of their ship’s hulls,” he said. “Should such a ship suffer damage, resulting explosions arm the mines and they drift through space, wrecking or ravaging whatever they happen to strike. We’re going to wait here for a moment.”

“You’re saying we could have mines coming at us right now?” Jyra said. “Can we track them?”

“We can with the new tech,” Berk said.

“You two definitely have to explain what you’ve been up to before you hear my story,” Jyra said. “Captain’s orders.”

Berk chuckled as he took another pull from his bottle.

“The power’s already going to your head,” he said, dropping the empty container into a bin next to his chair.

“Leonick, you’ve got eyes out there?” Berk said.

“I will detect anything harmful in time to avoid it,” Leonick replied, his fingers tapping across his keyboard.

“Do you mind if I tell the story?” Berk asked.

“You have the eloquence and voice for it,” Leonick said as he raised the sensitivity ratings on their scopes.

“After Leonick blasted you into space, we didn’t last much longer under Craig’s leadership,” Berk said.

Jyra felt the name of her former friend strike her in the gut. She never thought of him once she adjusted to life on Silanpre. Even with Berk and Leonick’s return, she only considered him in the context of the TF resistance. But Craig had become the leader of that movement following Macnelia’s death and he locked her in her quarters. When she thought of him, all she saw was his black hair and equally dark sneer.

“Getting rid of you was his first extreme act and more followed faster than I would have thought,” Berk continued.

“Not me,” Leonick said. “That is why I got you out. He and Shandra were both shaken by the loss of Macnelia. We all were. But the two of them created a toxic loop of vengeful logic and action.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra said.

“Craig was convinced the Nilcyn attack on the TF fleet was far more effective than our assault on their headquarters,” Berk said.

“The Nilcyn strike took out shipments and gave us cover, but we eradicated documents and offices. We attacked the heart of TF. Archives of programs, drilling data, all kinds of information blown out of existence. He even pressed the button to drop the bomb.”

“I agree with you obviously,” Berk said. “TF probably is still suffering from repercussions of what we did to them. The Nilcyn attack is likely while we’re even alive discussing this. The problem is the optics. Craig came away believing the ship-to-ship battles made for a greater spectacle of superiority.”

“The resistance is about taking out TF entirely, not who wins a battle,” Jyra said.

“So we all thought,” Berk said. “Craig had different ideas. The Nilcyn attack made an impression on him.”

“What did he do, join them?” Jyra said, hoping her sarcasm wouldn’t be met with a grave nod.

“He may as well have,” Berk said.

“What?”

“He decided to create his own militia,” Leonick said.

“He figured a captured TF freighter could rally people to his cause,” Berk said. “We headed for Drometica and he offered to get the planet out from under TF’s expanding control. Horbson had just been hit by Nilcyns. He sold a number of Drometica inhabitants on his vision, building a militia almost identical to the Nilcyns. Somewhere in the middle of his endeavor, Leonick and I decided to leave.”

“That is not accurate,” Leonick said. Berk sighed.

“Craig sent us on a mission to retrieve weapons from a station adjacent to Drometica,” he said. “We took Mastranada, got the weapons, and never made it back to Craig. That’s why the pod is tied up. We had a full cargo bay.”

“We have incoming,” Leonick said. Jyra couldn’t understand the lack of alarm in his voice.

“Gun the starboard engine and they will miss us.”

Berk responded immediately and Jyra peered through the nearest porthole, wondering if she imagined the dark spheres looming out of the darkness. Mastranada lurched ahead and Jyra heard Leonick give a sigh of relief.

Just as they dodged the chaos mines, some of their fellows drifted into the trash ring. Jyra looked away as an orange-white glare spread before Mastranada. Mines detonated as they struck the space-bound refuse and the explosions compounded.

“Good thing we didn’t get any closer,” Berk said, squinting at the destruction.

“We need to move,” Leonick said. “Get out of the way. The trash ring was mostly contained, but now we are dealing with a cloud of sporadic fragments. Any piece could be big enough to hurt the ship.”

Within seconds of his warning, debris began tapping the cockpit glass as it sailed by.

Berk seized the controls and brought Mastranada to port, running parallel to the repeated explosions, lighting up the trash ring. As they burst out of the debris field, Jyra saw the running lights of at least four tugs. They were all parked near the ring and obviously keeping their distance.

“Any way through?” Berk asked Leonick.

“Potentially,” Leonick said. “The trash will thin out soon and you can fly under the ring. Give it another minute.”

“I don’t want those tugs to notice us,” Berk said.

“If you can see them, they can see us,” Leonick said.

“They might be distracted by their burning garbage,” Berk said.

“Slow down, then,” Leonick advised. “The opening is coming to us.”

The tugs remained in their position, even as the ring rotated nearby. Berk eased Mastranada closer to the arch of garbage and slid beneath it.

“We’ll head further into space and get our bearings,” Berk said.

“Because of the tugs?” Jyra said. “They don’t have weapons, do they?”

“No,” Berk said. “But I prefer they don’t summon something that does.”

“When you said you took a couple of them out, I assumed you rammed them or incapacitated them somehow. I didn’t realize you actually shot them down.”

“One of the benefits of having an armed ship,” Berk said.

“Did you get any other weapons during your rogue mission?” Jyra asked.

“We did, but none them will be of immediate use,” Berk said.

“More to say on that?”

Berk shook his head. Jyra decided to come back to that question later and let her curiosity guide the conversation.

“Where did you go after Drometica?” she said, glancing at the radar scope to make sure no one followed them as they pushed further into space.

“Mostly where we didn’t expect Craig would find us,” Berk said. “We knew we had to lay low for a while so we went to Jiranthem.”

“Macnelia’s home planet,” Jyra said.

“Leonick knew of a couple places there where we could hide out,” Berk said. “Eventually we started hearing reports of Craig and his new militia. They call themselves Kytes, no doubt inspired by the bomb that we used on TF headquarters on Tyrorken. They have a logo and everything.”

“I wonder why they haven’t visited Silanpre?” Jyra said. “I never heard of them.” She was delighted to at last catch up with Berk and Leonick. The shock of learning what became of Craig and the others, tempered the joy. Berk was already answering her last question and she had to make a conscious effort to listen.

“The Allied Hospitals are known for their medical prowess in the galaxy. Their militant security is just as famous. A small group like the Kytes, even the Nilcyns, would think twice before attacking Silanpre. It’s lucky we were close enough to it when you escaped so that you wound up on a planet Craig was most unlikely to visit.”

“What happened to the others?” Jyra said.

“We assume Shandra is with Craig,” Leonick said. “Neeka and Derek defected, too. I hacked into a public docking log on Jiranthem and saw their names from a day or so earlier. We just missed them.”

“How do you know they’ve quit?” Jyra asked. “Maybe they were after you and Berk.”

“We had a few brief chats before Berk and I left for our mission,” Leonick said. “Neither she nor Derek were pleased with where Craig was taking the resistance. Seeing their names in the log indicates they got out alive.”

“What sort of reports did you hear about the Kytes?” Jyra said.

“Nothing flattering,” Berk said. “Sounds like they’re a bunch of petty criminals. They plunder small towns, board ships in space, and steal whatever they can.”

“To be fair, we did all of those things when I was part of the resistance,” Jyra said.

“Yeah, we took what we needed and I have misgivings about boarding Orasten for obvious reasons,” Berk said. “But the Kytes are more extreme. They capture people. They seize far more resources than necessary just to spread misery. Despite all that, their fleet and membership are both growing.”

“So how do we turn the Nilcyns and the Kytes against each other?” Jyra said, placing her boots on the console and leaning back in her seat. “That sounds like an excellent way to neutralize both threats.”

“It’s tempting,” Berk said. He drained the bottle and dumped it into a bin on the far side of his seat.

“Is that a cold box?” Jyra asked, peering past Berk’s faded boots.

“I don’t drink warm beer,” Berk said, producing a bottle from the black cube near his console. He opened it and took a mouthful.

“We added weapons and a cold box to the ship,” he said. “That’s all I’m aware of, but Leonick likes to keep his secrets.”

“I like your priorities,” Jyra said, rolling her eyes. “You said it’s tempting to turn the Nilcyns and Kytes against each other, but that doesn’t press the attack on TF.”

“Unless the Nilcyns and TF are working together,” Berk said. “All I want to know now is, are you ready to go after TF?”

Jyra didn’t answer. The decision seemed impossible to resolve and even as she thought of how the Allied Hospitals and TF might be connected, it was likely the path led away from Silanpre. The more she thought about it, the less likely she could see Serana abandoning her planet. At least she had one to fight for.

Berk saw Jyra’s furrowed brow and didn’t pressure her for an answer. He drained his bottle and it clanked against the other as he dropped it in the waste bucket.

“We have traveled beyond the pull of Silanpre,” Leonick announced.

Jyra heard the request in the tone.

“Right.”

Jyra got to her feet, realizing she didn’t have anywhere to go, but it seemed important to stand.

“Ready to open the cargo bay?” Jyra asked Berk.

“Ready when you are,” he said. “Prepared to make the turn.”

“Is there a…camera or a way to see?” Jyra said, aware of her hollow voice. Berk nodded. Jyra took a deep breath and placed a hand on the edge of the console for support.

“Open the door,” she commanded.

Thuds in the distance indicated the duct dampers swung shut.

“How is our air holding?” Leonick asked.

“Well enough,” Berk replied.

Jyra’s eyes pivoted to her screens. One showed the inside of the cargo bay. The bodies were no longer stacked on the floor. As Berk guided Mastranada to the right, the dead floated through the door and into space. The second screen on Jyra’s console showed footage from a camera mounted near the bow facing the stern. She watched as the dark bags, catching the light from the bay, drifted into the endless frontier.

“Peace to the fallen,” Jyra murmured, feeling the corners of her eyes sting.

“Ready to close the door,” Berk said, his voice barely above a whisper. Jyra nodded and she watched it glide shut. Leonick kept his head bowed toward his keyboard but his hands remained in his lap. Berk kept an elbow on his armrest and lowered his gaze.

“Thanks for making this possible,” Jyra said. She directed her attention to Leonick who glanced over his shoulder and gave a resolute nod. “Thanks for coming back,” she added to Berk. He leaned forward to open another bottle.

“We knew we wanted to, we just had to make it happen,” Berk said. “It was an honor to lay those folks to rest. They fought well against the first tyrannical business I’ve known.”

He raised his beer and took a long swig. Jyra returned to her seat, marveling how Berk’s carefree delivery almost made the statement disingenuous, but she knew he meant every word. Her crew worked quietly while Jyra leaned on her console. Her tears fell in the silence of the bridge and she made no sound as she watched the trail of bodies disappear from her screen.

I’m still here, she thought. It wasn’t the first time she found small comfort in those words and she suspected it wouldn’t be the last.

Jyra wasn’t sure how long she sat at her console, locked in a silent struggle. The fogginess of grief summoned memories of the attack on the Hospital complex. She heard the roar of gunfire and cries of pain as if her wounded comrades were on the bridge, begging for help. Jyra felt her chin resting on her hands and sensed a tingling sensation spreading through them.

She leaned back and examined her fingers and wrists, certain they were shaking, but they remained steady. She caught a glimpse of herself in one of her dark console screens. Locks of dark hair hung around her puffy eyes and her lips curled in a defeated frown.

I may still be here, she thought, revisiting the familiar phrase stuck in her mind, but what’s going to be left of me? What am I becoming?

Jyra forced herself back to the memories, reflecting on the strike against the Intelligence Complex and the return to the ruins that led to Tony’s death. Her eyes burned again, though this time it was because she stared unblinking at her reflection. Jyra couldn’t recall ever being paralyzed by her thoughts before.

She heard Berk’s seat creak as he leaned forward.

“You all right?” he asked. His voice banished the snare of the past.

“Getting there,” she said. She pulled her hair back and re-tied her ponytail.

“We’re turning toward Silanpre,” Berk said. “I haven’t straightened us out yet.”

Jyra heard the unasked question. Berk was looking for orders and Jyra realized neither he nor Leonick knew the full extent of their mission. Jyra took a final moment to recover herself as Berk glanced at one of his monitors.

“Something wrong?” Jyra asked.

“Looks like a routine gravity drive report,” Berk said. Jyra nodded and took a deep breath.

“I should probably tell you why we’re out here,” she said. Both Berk and Leonick swiveled their seats to face her; their earnest expressions made it seem like they were about to take notes.

“We’re looking for a TF freighter similar to Valiant Conductor II,” she continued. “The stabilizer that landed outside the bunker came from a ship like it.”

“So the vessel is likely damaged,” Berk said.

“But there is no way to tell where it might be,” Leonick said.

“I know,” Jyra said. “I hope that if we conduct a large sweep around Silanpre at this distance we might locate such a ship. If it’s damaged, maybe we’ll find debris that leads us to it.”

Berk leaned back and glanced at Leonick.

“I know this won’t be easy,” Jyra said. “It’s all up to chance.”

“Let me check the radar log,” Leonick said. “Our approach to Silanpre is recent enough that the log will still have the preserved readings. We would have picked up an object of that size even if it was far away.”

“If it’s intact,” Berk said.

During a brief silence, Leonick began typing on his keyboard again. He repeated a series of keystrokes and sighed.

“Problem?” Berk said.

“I cannot access the log while radar is running,” he said. “We are far enough from trouble, right?”

“Not if you have to ask,” Berk said.

“Nothing there now, though?” Leonick said.

“Scope is clear,” Jyra said as she disconnected radar surveillance. “Work fast.”

The radar screen on her console went dark. All Jyra heard was Leonick’s rapid typing as he dug into the radar log history. Jyra glanced at Berk absorbed in an extended swallow from his bottle. She raised her eyebrows and, as if on cue, he dropped the depleted vessel into the nearby receptacle.

“Can other ships tell our radar is offline?” Jyra asked, aware of the anxiety in her voice. The moment she cut the radar scope, she felt blind, vulnerable. Outside the glass covering of the bridge, she saw nothing but a plethora of stars.

“Depends on their tech,” Berk said. The bottle had been out of his hands for twenty seconds and Jyra noticed him fidgeting. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He won’t be long.”

The words faded into the tense silence. Jyra and Berk listened as Leonick tapped away on his keyboard. He struck a key twice and sat back.

“Radar is yours again,” he called.

“Anything come up?” Jyra asked.

“I have to review the data,” Leonick said.

As the radar screen flickered back to life, a cascade of crimson warning lights lit up Jyra’s console.

“What’s on your scope?” Berk hollered, hastily averting his gaze as he added: “captain?”

“Prep the launchers,” Jyra ordered. “A ship just came through the ring, likely an Allied Hospital aggressor. Leonick, do we have any weapons besides missiles?”

Berk and Leonick exchanged a glance.

“We can release some of our chaos mines,” Leonick said.

Jyra ignored her surprise that they had chaos mines aboard and focused on attacking the pursuing enemy.

“We can’t just drop mines,” she said. “They’ll follow our current course. We need them to go the opposite direction.”

“We can aim them with the incendiary mount,” Berk said.

“We might even be able to launch them,” Leonick said. “Not as fast as a missile, but we could distribute them to form a barricade and direct them counter to our course.”

“Won’t the enemy just shoot the mines the moment they detect them?” Jyra asked.

“Possibly,” Leonick said with a shrug. “If we launch two in succession and keep the second at a safe following distance, it will not be destroyed when they shoot down the leader. By the time they see the second following, it might be too late.”

“Do it,” Jyra commanded.

“Right away,” Leonick said, as he hunched over his console.

“How many mines did you get?” Jyra asked Berk.

“Not sure,” he said.

“Do you recognize the enemy vessel?” Jyra asked.

Berk checked his screen. The radar revealed a narrow ship with two pairs of missile launchers (themselves longer than Mastranada) located at the bow. Extra plating on the hull indicated a vessel built for war. Four large engines pushed the ship toward full pursuit speed as it broke from the pull of Silanpre.

“The Hospitals seem to have upgraded their defenses,” Berk said. “They’re closing fast. I thought we were further away. The tugs must have tipped them off.” Jyra heard his tone more than his words.

“Hold up, Leonick,” she said. “None of those mines will do any good.”

“That ship will see anything we throw at it,” Berk said. “We need to move fast. Leonick, do you have the coordinates yet?”

“Going back to that review,” Leonick said.

“Can we at least head in the general direction?” Jyra said.

“Yeah, but it will bring us toward the warship,” Berk said.

“Swing wide. We’re further from Silanpre so it won’t add too much time,” Jyra said.

“They can still cut us off.”

“Once we get the coordinates, we’ll have them and we can return later,” Jyra pointed out.

“I have a general location,” Leonick announced. “Other side of the planet, but there is no guarantee the ship is at the coordinates now or will be if we seek it later.”

“Your call, captain,” Berk said. “I’ve got us moving with Silanpre’s orbit.”

A proximity alarm blared. Leonick switched it off.

“They have already moved to intercept our course,” he said.

“I’ll set a new one to get us out of missile range,” Berk said.

Jyra listened as he typed and stared at her radar screen. The warship began to deviate from its course. Berk gave a final tap and sat back in his chair.

“All set,” he said. “We’ll take a longer route and hopefully they’ll lose interest in us once we pass beyond Silanpre’s celestial boundary.”

“Still on to intercept,” Leonick said.

“What do you mean?” Berk said. “I just changed course.”

“They knew our radar was offline,” Jyra said, tearing her eyes from the screen. “Shut down everything except engines and vital systems. Fly manual.”

“What?” Berk said.

“That’s an order. That ship must have the tech you mentioned,” Jyra said. “They could tell when our radar was down. They maintained intercept course with us before you even logged the new trajectory. They are monitoring our computers in real time so shut them off. They’re anticipating our navigation; no one does that unless they’re trying to capture prey.”

“I’ve got the coordinates,” Leonick said. “Not where I expected to find them, but they are identified.”

“Don’t enter them into the navigation system,” Jyra said. “Let’s keep the information confined to our ship. Are we ready?”

“Our network is offline,” Berk said. “Unless they’ve got something beyond fancy, they can’t access our computers anymore.”

“We need to map those coordinates and find the best route to them,” Jyra said. “While we do that, maintain present course.”

As Leonick sought the best path, Jyra returned to her seat and glanced at Berk.

“Based on the last radar read, how long until they can target us?” she asked.

Berk stared at his screen, checking the data.

“Maybe twenty minutes,” he said. “Assuming they didn’t speed up when we went dark.”

Jyra couldn’t help thinking of Orastenand Kip’s brother. Now she faced a similar confrontation, except this time she was one of the victims. The warship might not ever bother with capture and blow Mastranada into metallic dust. Her eyes darted to her left hand resting on a lever and she was certain she caught her fingers shaking.

“I planned a route,” Leonick announced. “I have got my computer locked now. We should activate the radar to check the progress of the warship.”

“Nice work,” Jyra said, trying to muster enthusiasm, but the prospect of imminent annihilation turned her voice into a raspy croak. “Turn it on,” she whispered to Berk.

“Four minutes until we’re in their missile range,” he said. “The ship is moving much faster.”

“We can run,” Leonick said. “That ship will have to refuel sometime. Ours does not.”

“Can we outrun it?” Jyra asked.

“Hard to say,” Berk said. “They’re really moving right now.”

Jyra stepped beyond her console, right up to where the glass over the bridge curved down toward the nose of the ship. She looked into the distance and saw Silanpre, about the size of her pinky nail, a blue world sinking forever into an inky void. Though she couldn’t see it yet, the warship was moving between her and the planet. From her perspective, the shortest path to the far side of Silanpre would be to fly directly at it and cut as close as they could around the left edge. Our course suggests as much, Jyra thought. What if we head for the right side?

She walked back to Berk’s console and stared at the radar.

“Do we have time to cut back this way?” Jyra asked, tracing with her finger. “We can at least turn faster than them.”

Berk sat back and rubbed a hand across both his beard and wry smile.

“We could try,” he said. “At this point they’ll probably get a couple missiles launched at us anyway.”

“If it doesn’t work, we can always pull away and run,” Jyra said.

“Unless we get hit by a missile,” Berk said, switching off the radar. “Take a seat.”

He pushed a pair of levers forward and Jyra felt Mastranada rotating around her.

“We won’t see missiles coming without radar,” Jyra said.

“I’ll get it back on once I finish the turn,” Berk said. “No need to spoil the surprise any sooner. I hope your cores hold together,” he added over his shoulder.

“They will,” Leonick said. Jyra heard the engines roar as Mastranada launched back the way it had come.

“Radar coming back,” Berk announced. The warning beacons lit up with the screen.

“Inbound missiles!” Jyra said.

“Moving fast,” Berk added. Jyra heard his suppressed tone and felt her arms slump upon her console; the incendiaries were obviously approaching faster than anticipated.

“Mines,” Berk said. Jyra couldn’t tell if it was a question or a reminder.

“Bringing the mount controls online,” Leonick said. “Standby.”

“Can’t standby for long”

“Fire the third engine,” Jyra said. “That buys something, right?”

“Let’s see,” Berk said. His hands danced across his console. Jyra thought he couldn’t find the engine controls.

“There we go,” he said, seizing a pair of levers to his far left. “Hang on.”

Jyra glared at Berk, aware that he had in fact been wasting time searching for controls that shouldn’t require any time to activate. She could always identify her altered father, usually after he had three or four shots of whiskey. It always amazed her the amount Berk drank, though he hadn’t kept the reason from her for long. As Mastranada lurched forward with boosted speed, it reminded Jyra they were fleeing the very corporation that had experimented on Berk and his family. As far as Berk knew, he was the only survivor from such experiments. He claimed drinking kept his erratic behavior in check. It struck Jyra that she hadn’t yet explained much of anything that happened to her on Silanpre, not even that the Hospitals had subjected her to a treatment or two.

“The incendiary mount is ready,” Leonick said. “I have the missiles locked. Still two pairs coming at us.”

“The warship is still trying to redirect for pursuit,” Jyra said, checking her radar screen.

“Any guess how likely the mines are to make contact?” Berk said.

“No idea,” Leonick replied. “The missiles might be advanced enough to see the threat and navigate around it.”

“Good confidence,” Berk said.

“You asked,” Leonick replied. “I could try launching two mines in quick succession to set one behind the other. The first might miss, but maybe the missile will correct right into the second one if it goes undetected.”

“How long until the first pair reach us?” Jyra asked, cutting across the bickering.

“We’re still speeding up,” Berk said. “The missiles are still projected to overtake us. Maybe five minutes.”

“We should hit the missiles when they are still a minute away at minimum,” Leonick advised.

“Try one mine right now,” Jyra suggested, feeling her flesh prickle. “Test missile evasion.”

“Targeting,” Leonick said. Both Jyra and Berk reflexively turned to watch Leonick as he aimed and launched a chaos mine.

“How long until impact?” Jyra asked.

“Running a calculation on that now,” Leonick said. “It should be accurate to within a few seconds either way.”

Jyra wanted to watch the mine’s performance, but everything was still too far away for even the exterior cameras to witness. Only the incoming strike appeared on the radar screens.

“How’s our course?” Jyra asked. She saw Silanpre growing larger; its light began blocking distant stars.

“Looking good so far,” Berk said. “It’d be better if we didn’t have death following us.”

“Death is always following us,” Leonick said, his eyes remaining on his work. Jyra and Berk exchanged grim smiles as they registered the bleak truth.

“If all missiles are still present after thirty seconds, it means our mine missed,” Leonick said, rubbing his temples.

As the missiles closed in, Jyra fought the urge to blink. One of the missiles in the leading pair suddenly veered off course and then corrected. Jyra felt a rush of helplessness, similar to when she woke up bound in a bed inside one of the Allied Hospitals. The feeling added to her confusion as Berk and Leonick cheered. She looked back at the radar screen and drew a steadying breath. The abnormal movement of the missile indicated it had dodged the mine. Jyra now saw only three missiles on the screen. The explosion of the mine and one leading missile knocked its fellow off course, but only for a moment.

“Well done!” Jyra exclaimed.

“Working on the rest,” Leonick said, returning to his seat, his eyes round and cheeks flushed.

“The warship is coming after us,” Berk said. “I’m sure that’s what our sonar is detecting. It will be on radar soon.”

“It can’t catch us, though,” Jyra said.

“I’m not sure what that ship’s capable of,” Berk said. “But any enemy vessel could summon reinforcements from the planet. We’re flying right past it.”

“Got a read on the leader,” Leonick said.

“Take the shot,” Jyra commanded.

Once again, tension surged on the bridge and everyone fell silent. Leonick didn’t mention a calculated collision time. Jyra assumed by the time he finished, they would already know. She realized how much closer the last three missiles were gaining on them as she watched the screen.

The lead missile wavered momentarily and the trailing pair remained on course. Leonick’s sigh was all Jyra needed to hear in the silence. Berk stroked his beard and swiveled in his chair.

“Try the other mount,” he said. “The chaos shrapnel mine.”

“It needs to hit something to detonate,” Leonick said.

“It will,” Berk said. “We’ll shoot it with one of our missiles.”

He saw Jyra glaring and realized he’d cut his captain out of the conversation again.

“We only have a couple,” he said. “It’s a chaos mine filled with metal debris. The missiles are getting close enough now that just their exploding nearby could harm us. We need to launch the mine and a missile to set it off in the middle of the enemy missiles.”

“Do it,” Jyra said. “If we survive, I want a full list of the armaments aboard as soon as we have time to compile it.”

“Calculating now,” Leonick said. He was bent over his keyboard, unable to type at his previous speed, as he guarded against any mistake. They had no time left for error.

Jyra returned to the front of the bridge to get a better view of Silanpre. White clouds spun over an ocean that curled out of sight around the curvature of the planet. Jyra suspected the capsule that brought her to Silanpre lay somewhere beneath the rolling waves below. No evidence existed of the trash ring; similar to her arrival, Jyra again witnessed the planet without the presence of the landfill that orbited Silanpre in a nearly unbroken circle.

Berk inhaled sharply and Jyra broke her gaze from the planet.

“What now?” she asked.

“I wish being right meant we got a free pass out of this,” Berk said. “Another ship is about to enter space on an intercept course.”

“So we run,” Jyra said.

“We don’t have the same head start on missiles from the emerging ship,” Berk said. “I know we haven’t done a complete inventory of our weapons supply, but I can tell you we don’t have the means to destroy all the incendiaries they’ll throw at us.”

“Leonick,” Jyra said, feeling as though she had swallowed a mouthful of sand, “status?”

“Got it plotted,” he said, the tapping of the keyboard terminated as he spoke.

“Fire,” Jyra said.

“There is a—,” Leonick began, but Jyra cut him off.

“Fire now!” she ordered.

“Mine away,” Leonick said, his tone unchanged. Silence fell on the bridge until Leonick added: “missile launched.”

Jyra felt the sweat on her forehead as she made her way to her console.

“I advise everyone strap in fast,” Leonick said. “Detonation in fifteen seconds.”

“How far behind us?” Berk demanded, fumbling with his harness.

“Closer than I would like,” Leonick said. “Hang on.”

Jyra didn’t have time to lean forward to check the radar screen after she clipped her fasteners. She grasped the console with both hands and bowed her head, expecting to hear some noise from the explosion.

Such a sound never arrived. Instead, Jyra felt a deep, thrumming pulse in her gut. She swore she heard the glass panels over the bridge rattle against their seals.

“Lean back!” Berk yelled. Jyra obeyed, pushing herself into her backrest. It felt as though a massive hammer swung into the rear of Mastranada. Jyra never experienced anything like it; she didn’t understand how her seat could remain attached to the floor. She felt her flesh press into every available crease in the worn cushions. Her eyes sank into her head and her vision grew cloudy. She could not yell or even draw breath; her chest could not push against the crushing force as Mastranada surfed the punishing shockwave from the explosion.

Jyra saw only a blur of color in front of her as warning lights flared again. Her heard pounded and she vaguely understood that she might lose consciousness, but something stirred in her stalled blood flow. She raised a finger, then two, from her armrest. Jyra felt her forehead contorting from the effort, but sweat couldn’t emerge from her skin. She forced one hand to the console and seized the edge of it. Slowly, she pulled herself toward the engine controls.

Jyra managed to bring her right arm over the console while holding position with her left. She initiated the reversing sequence and throttled the engines to a minimum, aware even that could overload them. A deep groan reverberated through the ship as Jyra fell back into her seat. She thought she heard the whine of the engines. Within a few moments, Jyra took a short, painful gasp of air. Silanpre remained portside of the ship. Mastranada resumed a steady course, skirting the planet.

Jyra took another breath and turned in her seat to check on her shipmates. Both of them stirred and moaned. Berk coughed a fine spray of blood over his console. Before the explosion, Leonick had rotated his entire seat in order to face forward, which saved his life. He dragged his arm under his nose, wiping away the gathering blood. Jyra tasted iron in the back of her throat.

“That’s why I didn’t want the missiles to get too close,” Berk said thickly, slumping over the controls. “Are we slowing down?”

“I reversed the engines,” Jyra said. “Are you two okay?”

“What do you mean you reversed the engines?” Berk said, his hands clumsily reaching for his restraints.

Jyra pointed at her controls and Berk took several heavy steps to stare at them.

“Restore forward thrust,” he said and belatedly added: “captain. We probably still have at least one missile after us.”

Jyra hastily adjusted the engine controls. Leonick coughed behind her and managed to gasp: “radar is down.”

“Anything else damaged?” Jyra said.

“Everything will be if we don’t get our eyes back,” Berk said. He made to return to his seat, but paused. He brushed a loose lock of hair out of his face and fell to one knee, almost landing in Jyra’s lap.

“Are you all right?” Jyra asked, throwing one arm around Berk’s massive shoulder and placing her other hand against his chest to keep him upright. He stared toward the controls then raised his right hand, took Jyra’s off his shoulder, and placed it against the steel trim of her console. She felt her fingers fall into the notches they had made earlier when she seized the front of the console in a crushing grip.

“Seems there’s a story there,” Berk said. “Hope we live through this to hear it.”

“Are you all right?” she repeated.

“Dizzy, but fine,” he said retreating to his console. “I’ll be better once we can see what’s out there.”

“Almost got it,” Leonick reported. “Just finishing the bypass sequence.”

“I assume we lost rear radar calibration,” Jyra said, swiveling in her seat to face Leonick, who nodded. The explosion didn’t destroy their radar but it reduced its accuracy. Jyra wondered what else suffered damage.

“Radar is back,” Leonick said.

The screens on the pilot consoles lit up again. Jyra ignored the warning lights and waited to see if the missiles were still after them. Their wake appeared empty. The pursuing warship was nowhere to be seen on the monitor, nor the intercepting ship about to break into space from Silanpre.

“Two missiles missing from radar,” Berk muttered. Jyra confirmed his observation.

“One missile remaining,” she warned.

“Where?” Berk said.

Jyra glanced back at her screen and saw no enemy ships or shots in sight, not even the missile she just witnessed. She opened her mouth to speak, just as the missile far off to the port side flickered back into view.

“There!” she cried. “Portside!”

She saw Berk register the signature before it fell off radar again. He sat back.

“Missiles don’t drift in and out of radar, right?” he called back toward Leonick.

“Not by damage on our end,” Leonick said. “But planet atmospheres have a way of fooling radar.”

“If it’s messing with our tracking, it could be doing the same to the incoming ship,” Jyra said.

She turned to gaze beyond the bridge and saw a pinprick of white light shining against the luminescent curve of Silanpre.

“You mean that ship?” Berk said.

“Precisely,” Jyra said. “Redirect course to fly across its nose.”

“Captain?” Berk said and Jyra heard the same doubt in his voice that came from her own lips.

“You heard me,” she said. “Make for that emerging ship, before their radar calibrates to space.”

“But the missile,” Leonick said.

“It was blown off course,” Jyra said. “It will come toward us, but we can offer it a better target.”

Berk and Leonick exchanged a glance.

“If we aren’t here to die, what are we here for?” Berk said, opening another beer.

“We’re here to live,” Jyra answered. “I hope for that at least.” She leaned over, grabbed the bottle before she lost her nerve, and took a long gulp. If they couldn’t outrun the intercepting ship, they were already in jeopardy.

“Can we go any faster?” Jyra asked.

“We could blow up another mine behind us,” Berk suggested.

“Had enough of that already,” Jyra said. “What about the booster engine?”

She glanced at Leonick and immediately saw his defeated posture; shoulders slumped and head bowed.

“What’s the matter?” Jyra asked.

“The booster engine is not responding,” Leonick said. “I suspect the explosion disabled it.”

Jyra checked the missile’s progress. It was flying nearly parallel with Mastranada and drifting closer. Jyra hoped the explosion damaged some of the weapon’s guiding systems.

“If we get much closer to the planet, the gravity will slow us down,” Berk said.

“Maybe that’s what’s holding the missile back. Maintain present distance then,” Jyra said. “But we need to be ready to fall on the second ship the moment we see it.

“Getting a possible reading now,” Leonick said.

“I saw it first on the long-range read,” Berk said. “Not possible now with damaged radar, but—”he checked his screen again and gave a firm nod —“I’m sure that’s it.”

“How long?” Jyra asked.

“I can override the regulators on the cores,” Leonick said.

“Do it,” Jyra said. “We have to get to them before they see us.”

“I recommend harnessing up,” Leonick said.

Berk steered Mastranada toward Silanpre and Jyra felt the ship shudder as it accelerated, diving straight at the planet’s surface, hundreds of miles below. She placed a hand around her mother’s locket.

“Keep an eye on that missile!” Berk said, hastily guzzling his beer as the vibrations grew stronger.

“It will be right on us once we cross its path,” Jyra said.

“As long as we can cross it,” Berk said.

The missile still held its course, resembling a stray from the trash ring, except it was moving in the wrong direction.

“Two minutes,” Berk said. “Maybe. Approximation is all we have now.”

“The missile is turning toward us,” Jyra said. “And we’re between it and Silanpre now. And it noticed.”

The missile’s target falling through its sights renewed the weapon’s tracking. It accelerated after Mastranada. Jyra glanced out of her starboard porthole and, in the distance, saw the glow of the intercepting ship pushing toward Silanpre’s thermosphere.

“We need to fly parallel to the ground!” Jyra yelled. The vibrations worsened as Silanpre made every effort to pull Mastranada down into the ocean. “Bring the missile right across the enemy ship. I can see it.”

“We’ll be initiating reentry,” Berk said. Jyra shared his hesitation. After sustaining obvious damage, it would be best to at least inspect their ship before subjecting it to such severe conditions.

“We don’t have a choice,” Jyra said. “We’ve got a missile behind and an enemy target ahead. If we don’t destroy that ship, it will launch a volley of missiles that we can’t outrun or neutralize.”

“As long as we don’t self-destruct either,” Berk said. “Ready to terminate the dive?”

“Slowly,” Jyra said. “Maintain as much momentum as possible to help cool the ship.”

“As it’s trying to light itself on fire,” Berk muttered.

Berk threw the levers and Jyra felt her body slam against her harness as Mastranada’s nose turned toward the planet’s Northern pole.

“Starboard now!” Berk bellowed, as the throbbing vibrations created a howling roar inside the ship.

Jyra reached for the controls and sent Mastranada into a gentle curve, while Berk continued easing the ship out of the dive. Leonick did his best to manually regulate the energy cores, but this was hardly the environment for such tedious work. Damage from the explosion had weakened parts of Mastranada’s skeleton and stresses from both speed and quick maneuvering were overtaxing the ship.

Jyra gritted her teeth and struggled to maintain consciousness. She felt the sweat that materialized on her skin and the orange glow encroaching on the glass around her. The consequences of reentry crashed upon the ship. Jyra struggled to pull out of the curve. When she managed it, she stared through the air rippling with heat, gazing beyond the bridge and she saw the enemy ship.

Jyra sat up straighter in her seat, unaware of when she had started slouching in it. One hand still clutched her mother’s locket. Certainly she hadn’t been holding it this whole time? She cast a wary eye toward Berk. He hung forward against his harness, but seemed to be prodding the controls.

“What are you doing?” Jyra muttered. She felt like she had drank a full flask of Kip’s whiskey.

“Need to evade,” Berk said. He sounded even more exhausted, but he gestured ahead of them.

Jyra looked again and realized the intercepting ship was rotating, its bow turning toward her. The sight provoked some urgency but Jyra only managed to lean forward like Berk. She checked the radar screen and saw the missile still traveling in their wake.

“I can give us one more push,” Leonick said. “It will be brief. Couple seconds. Cores will burnout completely.”

“We need to get closer,” Jyra said.

“What’s the plan?” Berk said.

“Fly right at them then hop the ship,” Jyra said. “Hope the missile doesn’t make the jump.”

Mastranada wobbled and Jyra wiped her brow. She couldn’t tell if it was getting hotter. Far sooner than she expected, they were upon the enemy. Berk and Jyra both sat ready, but still exhausted.

This new threat was certainly smaller than the warship and built more for speed. Sweeping, angular stabilizers merged seamlessly with the sleek, jet-black hull. The nose finished in a point so fine, it seemed touching it might draw blood. Jyra noticed the pivoted guns on either side of the cockpit. As if sensing her gaze, each gun suddenly fired, spraying bullets toward the incoming target.

“Leonick now!” Berk said. “Need the push!”

Mastranada leapt toward the incoming fire. Jyra glanced at the radar and saw the missile falling behind. The bullets flew beneath them, but with the greater gap, it seemed likely the missile would navigate around the enemy. Mastranada began to rise, about to soar over the other vessel, but Jyra changed her mind.

“Dive!” she ordered. Berk didn’t say a word as they turned Mastranada toward Silanpre as the guns fired fresh rounds. Jyra heard the bullets tear through the hull amidships as they fell beneath the enemy vessel.

“Get back on the ship’s lateral plane!” Jyra said.

“Understood,” Berk muttered. He sounded calm, his delivery unusually soft and breathless.

As they pulled up, fighting against Silanpre’s relentless drag, a bright flash that had nothing to do with reentry flared above the bridge. Jyra barely had time to witness it. A second missile explosion pounded Mastranada. Though not as strong as the first, Jyra watched Silanpre flicker in and out of sight as the world grew smaller with each glimpse. Her vision blurred. She felt blood throbbing beneath her skin. The force of the explosion blew Mastranada away from the planet, spinning like a top as it went.

Jyra fumbled for the controls, hoping to reverse the engines again or somehow counter the erratic trajectory. Such hope disappeared with the ship’s power, cloaking the bridge in darkness. Jyra felt her heavy eyelids and the sensation of spinning, both in her body and head. She slumped against her harness, lapsing into unconscious, her mind as empty as the surrounding void.

 

Everything felt much lighter, despite the gloom. Freedom felt so close, but the ship’s hull and seat harnesses maintained restraint. At least for now. Jyra could no easier explain her sense of euphoria than determine why her body ached. She wanted to scream and had no idea what she might feel by screaming. Delight? Misery?

Jyra knew she had to open her eyes. She remembered as a child when her mother shook her awake in the mornings. The chill from the evening air always crept into the house, back when temperatures shifted between hot and cold on Tyrorken. Jyra would use her feet and hands to pin the blanket over her when her mother tried to pull it free. Even if her muscles were fully awake, it was a battle Jyra could never win.

The gathering cold might have triggered the memory and it restored Jyra to reality. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. She opened her eyes and saw nothing but a blur of black and white. Then a large disc, distorted by poor vision, passed before her face, a fine chain slipping through a hole near its edge. She had never looked at her mother’s locket so closely before as it drifted to her right, no longer obscuring her view of the stars. She seized it and reflexively tucked it into her collar.

Mastranada rotated in a constant lateral spin; it seemed as though the entire galaxy revolved around the ship. Small, wall-mounted emergency lights lit up on the walls, casting their subdued crimson glow across the bridge.

Jyra glanced toward her lap and saw only a blur of flashing colors. Her mouth tasted like she had been sucking on tin cans. One of her hands flopped against her forehead. She felt the harness wrapped around her, but didn’t feel the seat beneath or behind. She dragged her knuckles through the gathered sweat on her face. Two fingers found a lock of hair and, without thinking, Jyra searched for the split ends. Her hand traveled upward, far beyond her scalp.

The confusion and bleariness yielded to understanding. Jyra’s hair drifted above her as though she were submerged in a pool. She rubbed her eyes and stared straight ahead, trying to confirm her orientation on the bridge. Hadn’t Berk mentioned something about a gravity drive report? Jyra thought.

The gravity drive recorded atmospheric conditions whenever the ship landed on a new planet. The drive then mimicked those conditions on board when traveling in space. The crew could access backlogs of atmospheres if they pleased. Keeping the atmospheric settings after leaving a planet helped mitigate some of the strain of traversing between planets. Though it served many functions, Jyra was, at the moment, most concerned with the gravity drive maintaining the difference between up and down.

Among the slew of warning lights, she found the one that confirmed the gravity drive was offline. Jyra’s eyes widened, her vision no longer impaired, as she saw the scope of the damage to Mastranada indicated by the desperate beacons that demanded her attention. Main ship power, radar, weapons systems, engines, and cameras were all down. But the last warning Jyra saw sent her into a panic as she glanced at her unconscious crew, drifting in their harnesses. Mastranada suffered multiple hull breaches and the air inside the ship was venting into space. 

While waiting for her computer to boot up, Jyra visualized how she would glide through the corridors. It couldn’t be as easy as she imagined. She was far more aware of the weightlessness of her arms as she stretched them toward the keyboard. Her stomach and mind churned while the rest of her relaxed, spared the constant tug toward the floor. The breach warnings filled the monitor and Jyra pulled up the hull schematic. Every thud of her heart measured the unchecked flow of nitrox out of the ship.

For a moment, Jyra wondered if she should seal the supply tank. Once the cabin nitrox level plunged far enough, the main valve would automatically close and preserve what remained in the tank. If Jyra manually shut it, she might not be able to repair the breaches without suffocating. 

We have spacesuits on board, too, Jyra remembered as she leaned toward the schematic, double-checking to make sure she located every breach. She didn’t have time to fuss with the nitrox or suits.

Bullets had penetrated the hull at eight separate points. Nearly all of the breaches were in the cargo bay. The other tore directly into a plenum wall between the bay and the upper hall. Jyra located the nearest air return vent to the breaches on the schematic; it would offer the quickest access to make a repair. The remaining seven should all be exposed in the cargo bay and, without the constraint of gravity, relatively easy to access.

Jyra unclipped from her harness and kept one hand clenched around a strap as she gently pushed a foot against the floor. She glided upward (maybe downward?), the strap tightened, and Jyra bounced toward her seat. A wave of hair tumbled over her face and she swept it aside in time to grab the top of the seat back. Navigating the gravity-free corridors was going to take even more effort than she imagined. Jyra glanced over her shoulder at the door. She brought her knees onto the seat back and, maintaining a grip on the chair, turned around to face the door. As she repositioned into a crouch, Jyra jerked her head, trying to shake a surge of dizziness. The freedom of weightlessness suddenly became a burden as her mind sought to establish a sense of direction.

The ceiling should be above and the floor below. Now the floor was right in front of Jyra and she was about to jump off the back of her chair. She knew she would glide directly through the door, but instinct fought conviction.

Jyra pushed off. She refused to blink, watching the walls slipping by beside her. She passed through the bridge door with ease, but Jyra suddenly realized she put too much force into her launch. She felt like a missile closing on one of the bulkheads in the hallway. She threw her arms in front of her and crumpled against the steel.

Jyra obtained a secure hold on the bulkhead with her left hand and felt something pop in her wrist. She summoned her wits, knowing she had to keep moving. She peered at the ceiling, trying to identify details through the crimson gloom. Several conduits strapped near the wall caught her eye; they ran the length of the hall and offered a more controlled means of mobility. Jyra pushed gently against the floor, reached one of the dust-covered pipes, and began crawling hand-over-hand toward the ladder that led to the lower corridor. Once she arrived at the ladder well, Jyra had to jump to the rungs and climb upside down to reach the main passage between her quarters and the engine room.

She shoved off from the ladder and crossed the hall. She placed a boot against the opposite wall and kicked herself aft. The emergency lighting hardly lit more than the floor, but Jyra swore she saw traces of boot prints on the walls and, judging by the size, could only have been made by one person on board. Jyra managed to arrest herself against a door frame and sighed, knowing she had stopped at the right place. She fumbled for the handle, opened the nearby hatch, and retrieved the breach seal kit.

Jyra was certain she could feel air rushing through the cargo bay door before she opened it. When she did, it was as though a dam had broken, as the nitrox in the rest of the ship tried to equalize pressure in the depleted cargo bay. The chill beyond the hull gripped the room. Jyra, wishing she had thought to grab a jacket, shut the door and glided to the nearest stack of crates that, thankfully, were secured to the wall. Jyra opened the kit on top of one of the crate lids. All the contents were strapped in place, prepped for a gravity-free environment. The case itself was the size of a large briefcase and several lights in the lid flashed to life. Jyra pulled out one of the headlamps in the kit, strapped it to her head, and switched it on. Next, she pulled on a pair of thick gloves. Carefully, she released the binding on a stack of sealing pads and, knowing her life depended on them, tucked them in a large trouser pocket that she snapped shut.

Jyra kicked toward the ceiling, the light of her headlamp reflecting off the exposed beams. She soared past Berk’s pod, which drifted lazily on its support cables.

Jyra landed on the ceiling, seized a conduit, and felt her hair shift on her scalp. Her light fell on a ragged hole, about the diameter of her thumb, in the hull plate. Jyra unsnapped her pocket, and with some difficulty on account of the gloves, pulled one of the sealing pads free. She had to tuck her arm between the conduit and the ceiling to remain in place as she tore the protective film off the pad and held it below the puncture. As she brought it closer to the ceiling, the pad leapt off her palm and several sparks blew from its edges as it fused with the steel.

And so Jyra continued the work. She knew from the schematic that of the seven bullets that penetrated the cargo bay, the first struck aft on the port side and the seventh hit fore to starboard. After sealing the fourth breach, Jyra paused to take several breaths and realized her teeth were chattering. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Then she heard a muted snap from the engine room; she convulsed, shivering and struggling to keep her mind and body on task.

The sound indicated the solenoid shut the main valve to preserve the remaining air in the tank, but it also meant Jyra had a critically finite amount of nitrox left and she had only sealed half the breaches. She reached for her pocket, her gloved fingers slipping as she snapped the flap closed. Jyra pulled herself along the conduit, wondering if the muscle stimulant or hypoxia caused her tremors. She remembered seeing her fingers shaking when the Hospital warship initiated its pursuit. Even then, Jyra was certain something besides fear triggered the quaking in her hands. It was more fundamentally integrated with her mind than an emotion; it was a part of her.

Each grip of her hand-over-hand progress toward the next breach seemed to require more strength, more effort, more air. Jyra tried to take deep breaths. She reached one of the light fixtures and could tell that although the chains supporting it were straight as usual, they carried no weight. A conduit ran parallel in the peak of the ceiling and Jyra used it to crawl to the next row of lights, certain she could see the fifth breach. It turned out to be far enough from the pipe that Jyra had to hook her ankle between the conduit and a beam. She stretched out, floating a foot below the ceiling and the pad leapt into place while Jyra pushed away from the sparks. 

The sixth breach required a similar anchoring maneuver with her foot and Jyra managed to seal it with ease. She was relieved to be climbing closer to the floor, though fearful she might succumb to the fight between her gravity-conscious instinct and her mind that knew better. In addition to the threats of thinning nitrox and paralyzing cold, Jyra felt nauseated and her head throbbed, protesting every movement as she pushed on. The last breach in the cargo bay was simple to access and Jyra peeled the film off the sealing pad. She lifted it toward the hole, and convulsed again. She couldn’t push through the shivering fit this time. The sealing pad flew off her hand and spun lazily toward the opposite wall. 

Jyra clung to the conduit, trying to keep the pad in sight as she fought to stop her teeth from shattering against each other. She grimaced, wondering if she had doomed the ship. The activated side of the pad would soon find a metallic surface and bind to it. During the process, the pad detected the circumference of the puncture and sent a jet of molten sealing compound into the breach to maximize the thickness of the patch in the hull. Without the smallest fissure to fill, the compound had nowhere to go and the pad would explode.

Jyra gritted her teeth and tried to lock her quivering muscles. She pushed off the ceiling, thankful the breach seal kit was still open beneath her, spilling light into the room. She grabbed another sealing pad and rebounded off the floor. Fighting the tremors in her extremities, she activated the pad, guided it into place, and returned to the breach seal kit. Jyra snapped it closed and kicked against the crate, aiming for the exit.

Just then, the rogue patch bound to the firewall between the cargo bay and the engine room. Jyra watched it glow bright white and averted her gaze when a loud bang echoed off the walls. Molten shrapnel scattered through the cargo bay. Jyra reached the door and, as she waited for it to open, felt a searing sensation on her shoulder. She instinctively reached up and tore at the source; a glowing mass from the ruined sealing pad had burned into her skin just above her shoulder blade. Jyra winced as she pulled herself through the door, punching the button to shut it as she fell forward. Of course, she didn’t hit the floor, but drifted into the hall in a partially slumped position. She let go of the breach seal kit and laid her forehead against the cold wall.

Jyra might have crumpled with exhaustion if it hadn’t been for her burning shoulder. The pain struck repeatedly as though each heartbeat refreshed the screaming alarm from her nerves. She smelled the sickly stench of burned flesh. She frantically patted herself with gloved hands, fearing more shrapnel might be sinking into her skin as if the shock from the first projectile dulled any further sensation. Another breath. And another. It felt like her nose was full of icicles and her throat as dry as the sand wastes of Tyrorken.

Jyra glanced toward the engine room and back at the ladder. She still had to seal the last breach. It terrified her to manually open the valve to the tank, because the automatic shutoff wouldn’t activate again if something happened to Jyra; everything in the tank could escape through the last breach. Berk and Leonick would suffocate while unconscious. Not the worst way to go, Jyra thought. She set the breach seal kit on the floor, ensured it wouldn’t drift away, and dragged herself down the hall.

The engine room smelled like ozone and burned wiring. Jyra glided into the room and kicked off the left wall, but her foot slipped. She aimed too high and soared right over her target. Jyra glanced around in desperation, the headlamp beam flashing across steel and machinery. The opposite wall loomed out of the darkness. Her faulty launch also sent her into a corkscrew spin. When she hit the wall, her injured shoulder made first contact.

Jyra felt nothing for a moment, though she sensed the incoming rush of pain. It fell upon her, seizing her body and being. She wasn’t aware of the scream of agony escaping her lips, except for a faint tremble in her throat. Tears gathered in her eyes, unable to fall without the pull of gravity. The engine room dissolved into a blurry of light and shadow. Jyra realized her limbs quaked with unbidden convulsions. Her shoulder felt as if a hot coal were pressed deep into her flesh, scorching her scapula, lighting up her nerves as skin and muscle burned. She lost track of time and forgot about the critical shortage of nitrox. She glimpsed crisscrossing ducts and conduits through watery vision and the flailing headlamp beam, a consequence of her jerking muscles.

Her forehead smacked against the ceiling. Jyra shook her head, trying to reclaim her senses. She threw her hand over her shoulder to press on the wound. The pain retreated, but by the time she was able to take several shallow breaths, she had already drifted away from the ceiling, heading slowly for the firewall. Jyra gritted her teeth, aware of each passing second while she closed in on the wall at a pitiful pace. At last, Jyra was able to grab a steel column to crawl toward the tank.

The gauge showed the nitrox level at thirty percent. Jyra gripped the valve handle, hesitating and wondering if she could trust herself. The future of her and her crew would be decided by the twist of her wrist. She recalled Serana’s command by way of excusing Jyra to embark on this mission: “Do your job, Captain.”

With another shallow breath, Jyra opened the valve and made her way along the wall to the exit, racing the air to the last breach. The kit was right where she left it in the corridor. Jyra found it harder to maneuver with the large case, but she forced it ahead through the ladder well and emerged in the upper hall. Jyra tried to ignore her ragged gasps. It felt like she was breathing sand into her lungs, aspirating a dust storm.

Jyra fumbled with the vent cover clips. The opening was large enough that Berk might be able to squeeze into it. The large vent triggered Jyra’s instincts for a moment as she wondered how to keep it from crashing to the floor when she released the last clip. Of course, once she shook it loose from its frame, the vent cover hung in place. Patches of dust filled the air, crossing through the headlamp beam. Jyra retrieved another sealing pad and closed the kit, leaving it hovering in the hall. She entered the plenum shaft and could already hear the subtle hiss from the breach. Slowly, she worked her way toward the sound, each time she touched a wall to adjust her progress, a cloud of dust swarmed her face.

At the top of the shaft, Jyra found the puncture, right in a corner. She carefully folded the sealing pad to fit and removed the protective film. It snapped into place and Jyra retreated, keen to stay clear if something went wrong with the binding process. Dust filled her throat and nostrils, and Jyra kicked herself free of the shaft wall, coughing and wheezing. She glided into the dim hallway and forgot she was floating, forgot about her shoulder, forgot about the ship and her crew. She spat mud from her mouth as her lungs begged for air. Jyra’s vision grew blurry and the last thing she saw was her headlamp beam glancing off the ceiling before everything went dark.

*

Jyra felt her knees crash into the sand. She fell forward, grabbing fistfuls of the ground as the wind lifted Tyrorken around her. She should have left the garage sooner. Jed mentioned reports of an incoming storm, but it wasn’t supposed to strike until tomorrow. Dust twisters, once predictable, now struck without warning.

The largest one ever recorded hit a month ago, tearing up an entire drilling field, leveling rig towers and warping well shafts. Nightfall put the storm to bed; it lost momentum eight miles from Mereda. The heralding winds had managed to rip several roofs in town loose. A fleet of TF patrol ships suffered minor damage as well.

Tides of dirt washed over her boots. Jyra felt the sand gathering against her, another obstacle in the storm’s way. She seized her goggles, tried to shake the earth out of them, and crammed them on her face. The mask dangled around her neck, useless as the first waves of sand had clogged the filter cartridges. Her parents’ paychecks were still two days out, which meant new filters had to wait.

Jyra stumbled through the desert, one hand near her face, the other out in front, reaching for the trees. She felt the compacted path beneath her feet. The wind blew against the back of her head, pushed her hair aside, and sandblasted her neck. 

Her fingers swiped the rough bark of the first juniper tree in a line of several at the boundary of her neighborhood. Jyra was almost back, but as she leaned against the trunk, she inhaled too much dirt and the coughing started. It brought her back to the ground and she crawled, coughing and spitting, desperate to get inside. 

It felt like her head was about to float free of her hunched shoulders. The wind howled and sand crept higher inside her goggles. She took a timid breath, and choked again on the relentless earth. She bowed her head and scurried onward, but knew another coughing fit was about to strike. Her house appeared through the swirling clouds and Jyra collapsed at the foot of the porch, gasping for air through each cracking cough.

*

“She is waking up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Her arm is moving.”

“She’s been twitching every now and then. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does this time.”

Jyra felt restrained and, as she opened her eyes, realized she was back on the bridge harnessed in her own seat.

“The nitrox?” she asked.

“Doing just fine with your help, Captain,” Berk said. “The tank level’s a bit lower than I’d like.”

He and Leonick hung in midair between the two consoles, both appearing quite comfortable in the gravity-free ship.

“How long have you two been awake?” Jyra asked. “Are Hospital forces still after us? Why am I strapped in?”

“I woke up about an hour ago, checked on Berk, found you and guided you into your seat to make sure you did not pull a muscle when you woke up floating,” Leonick said. “It can be disorienting. Berk came around about half an hour ago.”

“I’m sure the Hospitals will continue the pursuit, but they aren’t right now,” Berk said. “I reviewed the last of the footage before our cameras went offline. The missile we guided into the intercepting ship did the trick. Silanpre reclaimed most of the remains. A number of crisis capsules launched into space. We suspect the warship switched to recovery operations rather than chase after us.”

“How’s our ship?” Jyra asked.

“Better following your patch work,” Leonick said. “But radar, engines, weapons, and cameras are down.”

“What about the lights?” Jyra asked, her eyes falling on one of the crimson emergency fixtures.

“They work,” Berk said.

“So can we turn them on?”

“We could but I would advise against it , Captain,” Leonick said. “We do not know how long we will be out here and it would be prudent to conserve our batteries while we have no means to recharge them.”

Jyra leaned back and her wounded shoulder touched the back of her seat. She jerked forward.

“What’s wrong?” Berk asked. 

“I just got hit by a bad sealing patch,” Jyra said.

“Just?” Leonick’s voice uncharacteristically revealed both concern and skepticism. Berk seemed equally alarmed.

“Those pads can shoot sealing compound right through a person,” Berk said. “Where did it get you?”

“Where were you when it happened?” Leonick asked.

“Shoulder and cargo bay,” Jyra answered. “A molten remnant from a failed latch got me.”

“How many other remnants were there, Captain?” Leonick pushed off Berk’s console and grabbed the back of Jyra’s seat, locking eyes with her.

“A few, I don’t know,” Jyra said. Of all the things to command their attention right now, that particular crisis didn’t seem like a priority. “I was trying to get the nitrox going again.”

“I will check the crates,” Leonick said, and without another word, he tugged against the seat back, glided past Jyra, and soared off the bridge.

Jyra met Berk’s wide eyes, no easy feat since his usually bushy hair became even more unruly without gravity containing it.

“As Captain, I command you tell me what’s happening,” Jyra said.

“The weapons,” Berk said. “We should have told you about them the moment you came aboard. Most of the arsenal we stole from our last mission under Craig are stored in the crates. You understand the consequences if a piece of molten metal burned into one of them.”

“I see,” Jyra said. “Leave it to me to add one more way for us to die out here.”

“We’re not finished yet,” Berk grunted. He placed his hands behind his head and stretched his legs out, as though settling into an invisible deck chair.

“Those boots of yours match a footprint I saw on a wall in the lower hallway,” Jyra said. “You and Leonick have shut off the gravity drive before.”

“It made some things easier,” Berk said.

“Such as?”

“How do you think we suspended my pod on those cables?” Berk said. “I could have held it in hover mode, but how would Leonick attach the cables? Run around with a twenty-foot stepladder? It made arranging crates easier, too. How did you leave your quarters arranged?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if the gravity drive failed while the ship lurched a couple times before settling into our current trajectory, it would shake all your clothes loose from open drawers, your bedding might be touring the ceiling. I speak from personal experience.”

Jyra hadn’t thought about her quarters or anything in them from the moment she stepped out after a night’s sleep. 

“I guess we’re lucky you two secured as much as you did,” she said. “Most crews would likely be swimming through their possessions if their gravity drives failed.”

“We try to keep a tight ship, Captain,” Berk said.

“I can’t be that mad at you if you continue surprising me like this,” Jyra said. “But keep it up and I will be mad. I’ll be your captain, but without a crew I can trust I’m nothing.”

“Leonick has already got a diagnostic program running to identify the scope of the damage,” Berk said. “It should finish in the next few minutes.”

“What did Leonick mean about having no way to recharge the batteries? Did something happen to the energy cores?” Jyra asked.

“I expect he’s checking those out right now,” Berk said. “Nothing seemed amiss when you were in the engine room?”

“It smelled terrible, but it’s not like the cores were visibly damaged.”

“Energy cores are remarkable, but for all their benefits, they are finicky to maintain,” Berk said. “As long as they’re intact, Leonick will fix them. The way I see it, the Hospital warship decides how much time we have to make repairs.”

“If they can even detect us now,” Jyra said.

“That’s the spirit,” Berk said.

“Do we have any maneuverability at all without engines?” Jyra asked.

Berk nodded.

“Comes at a cost, but it can be done.” Berk ran a hand over his whiskers and turned his eyes to the floor.

“What’s the cost?” Jyra asked.

“We got lucky,” Leonick said, reappearing on the bridge. “I found a fragment of the sealing pad on the floor two feet from a crate of chaos mines.”

“That’s on me,” Jyra said.

“It’s all right, Captain,” Berk said. “By mine or loss of air, we would have been dead without you.”

Leonick grabbed Berk’s console and redirected his course, flying toward his own workstation.

“How are the cores?” Berk asked, staring at the floor beyond his boots.

“I just went to check the cargo bay,” Leonick said.

“You were gone too long for just that.” Berk glanced sideways and his eyes met Leonick’s. Jyra wished she could interpret their silent exchange. Leonick appeared pinned, caught in a lie and held in place by Berk’s glare. But for all the intensity in his gaze, the rest of Berk’s face appeared strained, concerned, even desperate. His mouth drooped and his cheeks quivered.

“You are correct,” Leonick said, glancing at his monitor. “Several pickup wires snapped. Probably from when I reversed the engines to dampen the momentum from the shockwave.”

“You reversed the engines?” Jyra asked.

“You two are the pilots, but were both incapacitated,” Leonick said. “I have the navigation controls here but only use them if there is no other way to maneuver the ship. We had already pushed the equipment beyond tolerance. That which cannot flex will break.”

“Like us,” Jyra said. “Our bodies. I plugged some air leaks but the blast from that shockwave could have kicked us so fast, our blood could have frozen in our veins.”

“Wish I had done something to save us all,” Berk said.

“There’s still time,” Jyra said. She appreciated Berk’s levity, but dread tugged on her shoulders, weighing her down in the absence of gravity. They were adrift in space, very much alone, and had no way to contact the bunker on Silanpre. Unless…

“Neither of you left an earpiece with anyone at the base, did you?” Jyra asked.

“Not without your permission,” Leonick said.

“Just a thought,” Jyra said.

“We might be able to rig a channel,” Berk said. “But first we need the—”

“Diagnostic report,” Leonick finished his sentence. “Just came through.”

Jyra forgot she was strapped in and reached to unfasten herself and felt pain shoot across her shoulder.

“I’ll help,” Berk said. He hooked his toe under his console and pulled himself forward to unclip her straps.

“Thanks,” Jyra said, suddenly aware she had no idea how the wound looked.

“Is it bad?” She leaned forward, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She felt Berk shifting behind her.

“Well?” she asked after too much time passed.

“I think your shirt is ruined,” Berk said. “Picture a two-inch-diameter sphere and that half of that sphere burned into the back of your shoulder. You’ve got your own black hole, and it’s cauterized.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Jyra said, pushing free of her seat. “As much as I can.” 

“You asked, Captain,” Berk said. “Are you all right?”

“No, it hurts, but nothing’s going to get better if we can’t heal the ship,” Jyra said. “I need to see what we’re dealing with.”

Berk helped Jyra navigate to Leonick’s side. They all stared silently at the monitor as information came in, filling spreadsheet columns pertaining to onboard systems.

“Reentry is no longer advised,” Leonick said. “The hull punctures combined with accelerated heat stress on all the exterior plating cannot withstand the temperatures. Landing on an asteroid is about the best we could hope for.”

“Engines appear to just be overheated,” Jyra said. “They should cool down soon enough.”

“Without the cores, they won’t fire,” Berk said.

“I will fix the cores,” Leonick said, an edge to his voice.

“Anything about radar yet?” Jyra asked. “Weapons, cameras?”

“Cameras are all ruined,” Berk muttered. “By the shockwave, or heat, or bullets. Hard to say.”

“Exterior weapon guidance gear suffered similar damage,” Leonick said. “We can still aim and fire manually, but with compromised accuracy.”

Jyra pulled herself closer to the monitor.

“Any specifics on the radar damage?” she said.

“Range booster is unresponsive,” Leonick said. “The entire radar system has defaulted to safety mode.”

“Bring it online,” Jyra said.

“It will take time,” Leonick said. “Two hours at least to initiate.”

“I suggest we get the engines going,” Berk said. “Or try to fabricate a weapon guidance system. We have no control over our movements nor can we defend the ship. Those should take precedence over radar.”

“Do you not trust your captain?” Jyra asked, meeting Berk’s eyes. “Perhaps we can merge the weapons guidance system with the radar?”

“Once it is online, I will see what I can do about that,” Leonick said.

“What about the engines?” Berk said. “We’re stuck on a ballistic trajectory.”

“You already have a solution,” Jyra said. “What will it cost us?” Berk paused, except for his fingers that kneaded the back of Leonick’s seat.

“A missile, one of the incendiary mounts, maybe our lives.”

“Good thing this ship has a spare mount for the rest of the arsenal,” Jyra said. “You both recall why we are out here? There’s a freighter we need to find.”

“You want to prioritize locating the ghost ship?” Berk said.

“That is our mission,” Jyra said. “We’ll have some cover once we land there. I’m trying to buy us some time. The Hospitals may not be after us now, but they’ll resume their pursuit and we all know it.”

“So we will hide from the Hospitals in a ship they have likely commandeered?” Leonick asked.

“Yes,” Jyra said. “I would like to, but we might pass it soon, especially two hours from now. We need to map the coordinates you found.”

“I will go work on the cores before we resort to more experimental solutions,” Leonick said, his voice still distorted by the dagger-blade tone. He executed another airborne exit from the bridge. Jyra attempted to exchange a bewildered glance with Berk, but he was shaking his head.

“Did he just disobey a direct order?” she said, feigning incredulity.

“My fault,” he said. “I need a drink.”

“What’s your fault?” Jyra asked. 

“I criticized the cores a few weeks ago. It seemed like he was always cleaning them,” Berk said. “Since then, he’s been rather defensive about the topic and I keep slighting them. It’s idiotic.”

“You two spent a lot of time together,” Jyra said.

“Too much,” Berk said. “We spent too much time together. It’s different when someone else is around. Helps diffuse the tension. Not enough, apparently.”

“You know I need you two,” Jyra said. 

“I’ll be here,” Berk said. “After all we’ve got so much in common.” He gave Jyra’s console a pointed glance. Even in the dim lighting, Jyra could see where her fingers crumpled the front edge of the console.

“They didn’t mark your wrist,” Berk said. “Noticed when we were strapping you in.”

“No, they just got my hand,” Jyra said, showing Berk the scar Matala carved into her skin.

She told Berk the story of landing on Silanpre and how she fell immediately into another fight. It wasn’t easy discussing being captured because that part of the story involved Tony, when she met him, back when he was already thought killed. Jyra tried to distract herself from the misery by focusing on the details of MS-231.

“It’s strange because I can’t always access the strength,” she said.

“I know they were just beginning to work on those stimulants when they ran tests on me,” Berk said. “I think it was designed vulnerability, a way for them to maintain some form of control.”

“But what if I just master the feelings that trigger it?”

“They saved me the trouble because that power is always in my fingertips,” Berk said. “But you’re correct to assume that you could discover ways to access the strength at will. I don’t mean to worry you, but it’s possible your body may start reacting and experimenting with the stimulant to take advantage of it.”

“What do you mean?” Jyra said.

“Again, I make no claims to know anything specific about your condition,” Berk said. “For me, though, it feels like my arteries and veins expanded, like my body wanted to move more of the stimulant through me.”

“I have been getting some minor tremors in my arms recently,” Jyra said.

“Never had that,” Berk said. “I can’t deny that whatever they tested on me has helped me out a few times, but sometimes I don’t feel like myself and I wonder if it’s their chemistry interfering; dividing my mind from my body. There’s always a cost. Drinking calms me down, but also gives me the illusion of control. I split my being apart before the stimulant can.”

“But that’s not really what’s happening,” Jyra said.

“Of course not,” Berk said. “Maybe it’s happened a couple times, where alcohol actually interrupts the stimulant, but more often than not, I’m just drinking myself into drudgery. Not even the Hospitals can use me when I’m drunk.”

“Neither can you,” Jyra said. “Leonick once told me he drank a lot in order to dull the inner chatter of his mind.”

“I don’t know what to tell you about that,” Berk said. “He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. If you know him, that reasoning is sound, but was it him or his whiskey talking?”

“Don’t know,” Jyra said. “At some point they become the same, don’t they? My father drank a lot but I never saw him lose his temper or do anything extreme.

“The night following my brother’s funeral, I remember dad drinking when I got home. He was already sad when I arrived, but I expect he was doing what you and Leonick do with alcohol: self-numbing. He was trying to hide from the consequences of his son’s death.”

“Maybe he was,” Berk said. “Maybe he was trying to forget how TF ruined his family. Look, I know what I’m doing when I drink. It’s stupid. I’ve considered stopping but it feels like one of the last tests I can give myself. Once I’m strong enough to quit drinking, what am I supposed to do next?”

“We could destroy TF and the Allied Hospitals,” Jyra said.

“Not alone we can’t,” Berk said. “And based on our current predicament, it’s going to be a long time before we’ll have the chance.”

He and Jyra started as something cracked against the glass over the bridge.

“I won’t tell Leonick you jumped if you don’t tell him I did,” Berk said.

“What was that?” Jyra said, gliding forward and grabbing the back of Berk’s seat to stop herself.

A second projectile struck the glass, or perhaps Mastranada dealt the strike. Jyra only caught a gray glimpse before the object disappeared toward the stern. Berk stalled by her side.

“See it?”

Jyra shook her head. Another tap, another missed opportunity to identify the mystery in the ship’s path. They both gently maneuvered toward the glass, floating just beneath it and peering into the looming darkness.

“There’s another one,” Berk said. Jyra saw it, too. The gray object seemed no larger than her finger. As it hit the glass, Jyra noticed one end appeared twisted and jagged. 

“That was a rivet shaft,” she said. 

“Are you sure?” Berk said.

“Positive.”

“Must be a star lighting our way,” Berk said. “Besides the one keeping Silanpre warm. How else could we see this stuff?”

“Until we saw it, we didn’t know it was possible,” Jyra said. “But I did say debris could lead us in the right direction.”

“Not that it counts for anything, but the last time we approached a ship like the one we’re after, we had trash landing on top of us, too,” Berk said. “Maybe we won’t need radar after all.”

“It would help,” Jyra said. “We might have already passed our target.”

Mastranada suffered several additional strikes to her bow. 

“If that stabilizer made it to the planet, who knows what other parts are floating out here?” Berk said.

“We are far enough from the trash ring, correct?” Jyra asked. “This isn’t stuff from that?”

“No” Berk said. “The explosion definitely launched us out of Silanpre’s orbit. Which makes me wonder what got that stabilizer into Silanpre’s orbit.”

“I want to know for sure,” Jyra said. “What can we do to get minimal radar back online?”

“Until we get the engines running, we have to conserve the batteries,” Berk said.

“So what radar function uses the least amount of power?” Jyra asked.

“A higher frequency of the signal and the optical rendering require more energy for the standard radar system,” Berk said, pushing off to fly back to his seat, his voice punctuated by a note of excitement.

“If we can render the signal as a sound rather than an image, most of the power will go toward aiming and firing the waves where we want them.”

“All right,” Jyra said. “Let’s do that.”

“I need to make sure I can,” Berk said. He scrolled through index after index, scanning the text on his monitor. Jyra drifted away from the glass and seized the back of Berk’s chair.

“Looking for radar subjects?”

“Yeah,” Berk muttered. “Feedback or report rendering. I need audio output options.”

Another piece of debris glanced off the glass. Jyra peered around the monitor, staring at the infinite tapestry of stars strung before her.

“Checking to make sure we don’t hit the freighter?” Berk asked.

“Proximity alarms would warn us, right?” Jyra said.

“Hard to say” Berk said. “Based on the damage scan, I wouldn’t rely on anything working. Just because systems aren’t flagged in the scan doesn’t mean they’re working.”

“Well, judging by the stars, I don’t see a massive silhouette ahead,” Jyra said.

“Maybe I should get that missile loaded into the mount,” Berk said. “If we need it, we’ll want to use it right away.”

“How’s your search?” Jyra asked.

“Fine,” Berk said. “Just thinking if we encounter a large piece of debris, we’ll want to navigate around it.”

“I can give you that much,” Leonick said, soaring onto the bridge. He clung to one of the girders over Jyra’s console. “The cores are still quite overheated but a momentary kick should not overwhelm them. Did you say something about debris?”

“Trace amounts,” Jyra said. “At least one rivet shaft.”

“Any other system reports or updates?” Leonick asked.

“Not really,” Berk said. “I’m trying to reinstate a basic radar sweep with audio rather than visual rendering.”

“Give me a moment,” Leonick said. He kicked off the beam, landed at his chair, and did his best to sit in it naturally as his fingers attacked the keyboard.

“It’s not going to run out our batteries, right?” Jyra asked.

“No,” Leonick said. “I will get to work on the cores soon. I should be able to fire the engines once I finish that work, but it will take time.”

He sat back, smacked a final key, and launched free of his chair.

“Let me know when you find something,” Leonick said, tapping his ear as he disappeared aft again.

“He is acting…differently,” Jyra said.

“To be expected. And our rudimentary radar is ready,” Berk said. “Bringing it online now.”

The screen went dark and all they heard was a low, steady hum emanating from one of the console speakers. The rumbling caused Jyra to wonder, for a moment,  if Leonick had already repaired the energy cores and restarted the engines.

Another higher tone, resembling a deep hiss, settled upon the first and grew louder. Another tap on the glass made them jump again and the higher tone faded.

“Well that’s the reading we get for something on the small side,” Berk said. “We’ll have more warning when something larger is out there.”

The incessant hum of the radar threatened to lull them to sleep as Mastranada drifted unchecked, falling further from Silanpre, chasing endless darkness. The sound of the hiss rose and fell. Jyra returned to her seat and clipped into her harness. If she fell asleep, she wanted to be secure.

Whether she lost consciousness she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t have been out for long. Jyra swore she even heard the hissing change. One sound became two, and the volume continued to climb, a variety of hisses gathering into a cacophony. Debris battered the glass overhead. Mastranada shuddered from multiple impacts. Jyra saw Berk’s eyes bulge beneath his hair as they waited, unable to escape the barrage. Then a sudden and harsh silence gripped the ship.

Berk leaned forward, frantically stabbing his keyboard. Nothing he tried restored the radar. He leaned back and rubbed his forehead, grimacing.

“I think that was our last glimpse for a while,” he said. 

“Did it cut out before we were through the debris or after?” Jyra asked.

“It may have cut out after,” Berk said, after considering for a moment. “It was close.”

“If it held on until after, that means it was detecting something farther beyond.”

Jyra shed her harness and crawled along the wall to the very nose of the ship, where the sloping glass met the floor. She peered out, scanning left and right for some sign they were on the right path. Berk chuckled behind her.

“What?”

“Look up,” Berk said.

Jyra glanced at him and saw his face still directed upward from when he sat back, defeated, from his monitor. She followed his gaze and finally saw the shadow against the plethora of stars. It was only about the size of Jyra’s pinky at this distance, but quite distinct.

Under normal operating circumstances, Mastranada could reach the shadow in a couple of minutes. Unfortunately, they were traveling on a course perpendicular to the one they desired with no easy way to alter their trajectory.

Berk carefully opened a drawer and fumbled inside, doing his best to keep the drifting contents contained. Several bottle corks escaped despite his efforts, but he finally extracted one of the earpieces and stuffed it into his ear.

“Leonick, do we have any maneuverability?” he asked. “We have our target in sight.”

“Barely,” Leonick replied curtly. “A couple quick jolts is all I can give. Let me know when you are ready.”

“Standby,” Berk said. “Ready when you are, Captain,” he added to Jyra.

“Take us to that ship,” she ordered.

Stay tuned for Part XL!