Jyra had no idea how long she had slept before Berk awakened her to give the news about the fleet cruising ahead of them. While the work with Leonick hadn’t been physically demanding, it left her wanting nothing more than to lie down for another few hours. Instead Jyra’s mind was back in action as she sat on her cot, considering Neeka’s information.
Why would a Nilcyn fleet be heading for Tyrorken? TF owned the only valuable assets on Jyra’s home world and they were well protected. What if the fleet fired on the resistance ship? Berk said Mastranada didn’t have any projectile weapons on board. Fleeing an attack was their only defense.
Jyra put her forehead in her palms and rubbed her scalp with her fingers. The moment she left Tyrorken, she no longer recognized the pace of her life. It felt as though no time had passed since she left her planet. Despite the risk of an attack, Jyra felt a sense of relief for the presence of the Nilcyn fleet. Were it not for the enemy ships, Mastranada would still be flying toward Tyrorken at top speed and there would be no opportunity for rest.
The comfort of this idea lasted mere moments because Derek entered her thoughts next. Neeka was right. Every delay extended Derek’s imprisonment. Jyra tried not to think about what the TF agents might have done to him, but she hoped they at least had the kindness to treat his leg. She imagined helping Derek limp down one of the stark corridors of the TF complex, guiding him to safety. She had only been to the building a few times to visit her parents at work. The hallway she envisioned resembled the one that led to her father’s office. Jyra remembered then that they didn’t know exactly where Derek was imprisoned.
Ignoring the urge to lie down, Jyra left her room for the cockpit. She couldn’t sit doing nothing while the ship sat motionless in space and Derek languished in a cell. Neeka was still in Berk’s seat, her elbows on the console and her hands clamping her head, forcing her eyes to remain on the monitor.
“Everything all right?” Jyra asked, taking her seat. Neeka didn’t break her gaze with the screen even as she replied.
“Yeah.” The sound of her voice contradicted the word. Jyra glanced at Neeka’s monitor and saw the red of the code characters marching across it.
“What are they saying?” Jyra said.
“I don’t know,” Neeka said. “I’m trying to remember where I’ve seen this code. It’s bothering me so much, I can’t get to sleep.”
“Would it help if we got moving again?” Jyra said.
Neeka finally looked away from the screen.
“It might,” she said. “If you think it won’t upset Berk too much.”
“The Nilcyns are beyond eyesight now,” Jyra said, surveying the star-studded canvas ahead. She powered up the engine thrusters and felt the vibration climb out of the floor into her boots.
Neeka smiled, switched off her monitor, and stood up.
“Time to give sleep another try,” she said, walking toward the exit. “Thanks,” she added.
“Get some rest,” Jyra said. “We’ll be there soon, I expect.” She transferred to Berk’s seat, turned the monitor back on, and pulled up the coordinates Berk entered into the nav computer. They had at least four hours of the journey left. Jyra flipped a switch and the proximity radar map filled the screen. The pulsing destination dot flickered over Tyrorken. The Nilcyn fleet was about halfway between Mastranada and Jyra’s home world.
Jyra swallowed hard, unable to keep from thinking about her parents. What would they do after their daughter destroyed their office? Would they come with her or remain on Tyrorken to make a new life?
She could not deny she missed their faces and the comfort of their embrace. The feelings didn’t warm Jyra as they once did. Thoughts of her parents were now overshadowed by Dario’s death, his funeral, and how Jyra had been contracted to follow the same line of work. Her parents had set it all up and though she knew she played a role in fracturing the relationship with her mother and father, she thought they were more responsible. She tried to control her breathing, which became more uneven as she reflected on her home life.
“One thing at a time,” she told herself. Jyra switched the monitor input again and saw their arrival estimate had increased. She remembered what Berk had said about the Drometica and Tyrorken rotating in opposite directions. Whatever coordinates had been entered, the planet would likely make another full turn on its axis and bring the destination closer to Mastranada.
The sound of boots thudding on the steel floor announced Berk’s arrival. Jyra turned to face him as he filled the cockpit entrance.
“Why are we moving?” he said.
“The fleet’s far enough ahead,” Jyra replied. “And Neeka’s right. The longer we sit out here, the longer Derek is at the mercy of TF.”
“I gave the order to cut the engines,” Berk said.
“And I followed that order. Now I’ve restarted the engines.”
“Because of Derek,” Berk said, taking a seat in Jyra’s usual chair. “You’re afraid of what’s happening to him.”
“Aren’t you?” Jyra said.
“Yes,” Berk said. “But I don’t let that fear dictate my decisions. You start acting on feeling alone and you’ll lose focus.”
“I’m also trying to carry out the plan, which is to get to Tyrorken,” Jyra said.
“What matters more?” Berk said, unscrewing the cap on a flask. “Reaching our destination or rescuing Derek?”
“Why does it matter?” Jyra snapped. “How long were you planning to have us wait out here? Come to think of it, who put you in charge? I thought Macnelia was leading this attack.”
Jyra felt a surge of satisfaction to see Berk swelling, as though preparing to shout a reply. Her irritation blocked out any fear or consideration of Berk’s size or possible temper. His face contorted and he turned away, hunching his shoulders. Jyra stifled a cry of surprise as Berk grunted and punched the wall, sinking his fist into the metal. Berk raised his head to gulp whiskey from his open flask, which he set on the console. He swiveled toward Jyra and stared at his knees.
“Macnelia is the leader of the resistance,” Berk said. “But she’s had a rough few weeks. As I said, too much emotional influence can interfere with one’s actions.” He opened and closed the fingers he had just rammed into the panel.
“That’s what’s happening to Macnelia right now,” he continued. “It’s happened to me and I don’t want it to happen to you.”
He paused again, but finally lifted his head and Jyra saw Berk’s glittering eyes staring into hers.
“Feel what you are going to feel, but don’t let it lead you to do anything irrational,” Berk said. “When I drink, it dulls the rash actions my emotions command. Something leftover from my hospital days.”
Jyra felt an urge to cut the engines again. She glanced at Berk’s injured hand and saw dark bruises forming on his knuckles. Still shaken by his physical outburst, Jyra tried to take the conversation in a new direction.
“How do you know Macnelia’s upset?” she said.
“I talked to her,” Berk said. “It turns out—” he paused once more and Jyra could tell he was deciding whether he should share the information.
“She’s obviously angry about the time bomb,” he said.
“She was angry at you for accusing her of setting it incorrectly and sabotaging the resistance,” Jyra said.
“That’s how it appeared,” Berk said, nodding. “But after discussing it with her, she believes she made a mistake. Macnelia’s mad at herself and the anger is compounded because her error nearly destroyed all of us. Add in her personal turmoil and it’s enough to unhinge anyone.”
Jyra wasn’t sure what to think. She was getting used to the bombardment of questions that tended to rush into her mind, as though the words she heard shattered a dam holding back the thoughts.
“What happened when she set the bomb?” she said.
“She doesn’t remember,” Berk said. “All she can recall is taking pictures of the main cavern and walking to and from the battery bank.”
“There’s a gap in her memory?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t you had times when you wanted to recall something specific, but all you can remember is something that took place around the time of what you’re seeking in your memory?”
“I guess so,” Jyra said. “I wonder if Neeka’s going through something like that right now.”
“What do you mean?”
Jyra explained about the code Neeka swore she recognized, but that she couldn’t recall where she had seen it before or what it meant.
“Maybe her worries about Derek are interfering,” Berk suggested. “Macnelia is also upset about what might happen to him.”
“She hasn’t seemed that concerned about Derek,” Jyra said.
“Because she hasn’t shown it,” Berk said. “She didn’t let the weight of it get to her until now. The simplest way to describe Macnelia at the moment is she’s dealing with a lot of repressed sadness. She’s been too busy to feel, but the impact finally broke through and overwhelmed her.”
Jyra thought of the bomb riding underneath the ship. She hoped Macnelia had been of sound mind whenever she worked on the explosive. Leonick had helped out, too Jyra reminded herself, and the brief worry passed.
She was about to inquire if Macnelia had mentioned anything to Berk that referenced her comment about being left behind on Drometica, but Berk pointed at the screen by Jyra.
“What’re they doing?” he said, leaving his chair to crouch beside Jyra, who swiveled to stare at the monitor.
The radar map showed the Nilcyn fleet had reached Tyrorken. The ships remained visible, which meant they weren’t penetrating the atmosphere. During the next ten minutes, the fleet moved into a different formation, becoming a tight crescent that spun with Tyrorken’s rotation.
“They’re targeting something,” Berk said. “If they hold that position, we just need enter the planet from the side opposite them. Keep the engines at full and we can get there before the fleet comes around again.”
A fresh thought of her parents’ safety replaced the flood of questions about Macnelia in Jyra’s mind.
*
Mastranada glided onward, closing in on Tyrorken. Berk and Jyra delved into the ship’s computer, pretending to be interested in running more diagnostics. Instead, they both sought work to block out their real concerns. Jyra could only stand twenty minutes of the mindless search on the monitor before her curiosity got the better of her and she left the cockpit hoping to talk with Macnelia.
“We’ll need to fill up the water tanks soon,” Berk said, as Jyra crossed to the exit. She caught sight of the Berk’s knuckles that struck the wall. The bruising had disappeared.
“I wouldn’t trust the water in them now given how long this ship was likely in the yard,” Jyra replied. “Then again, I wouldn’t trust the water on Tyrorken either.”
She passed the galley and, out of the corner of her eye, saw a shadow moving on a wall inside the room. Jyra stepped over the threshold and saw Shandra crouched by a crate, unloading the food from it and stacking the goods in a lower cupboard. Though she wore a long-sleeve shirt, one of the sleeves was pushed back, revealing the scars on her arms. She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Can I help?” Jyra asked. Shandra nodded. Jyra knelt down and began pulling cans of soup from the crate.
“What’s this?” she said, staring at the unfamiliar label.
“Tomato soup,” Shandra said.
“Never heard of it.”
“Most people I meet haven’t,” Shandra said. She yawned as she took the can out of Jyra’s hand to place it in the cupboard.
“Can’t sleep?” Jyra said. Shandra dropped her arms to her sides, tugging the crumpled sleeve down over her skin and crossing her arms.
“No, I can’t,” she snapped. “Does it matter?”
Jyra pushed herself off the floor and opened her mouth with no idea what she was about to say.
“What is with everyone?” she demanded. Shandra’s eyes grew wide with shock and she leaned back toward the crate like a cowering pet.
Jyra turned on her heel and stalked out of the galley, wishing she’d bypassed it in the first place. She wasn’t sure if Macnelia wanted to talk, but she had to try. Jyra knocked on her door and waited. When the door didn’t open, she knocked again.
After a minute or two, the door slid back and Macnelia stood behind it, her hair tangled and the skin under her eyes sagged.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The Nilcyn fleet ahead of us has moved into an attack formation around Tyrorken,” Jyra said. “We’re heading at full speed to enter the planet opposite the Nilcyns.”
“What Nilcyn fleet?” Macnelia said, rubbing the back of her head. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought—” Jyra realized right then that Berk hadn’t actually told Macnelia about the enemy ships.
“May I come in?” Jyra asked. Macnelia turned away from the door and sat on her cot. Jyra closed the door and sat in the nearby chair, a much sturdier counterpart than the one in her room. Macnelia looked sickly in the light reflecting off the pale green walls.
“There is a Nilcyn fleet ahead, likely the same one that hit Horbson,” Jyra said. “If all goes according to plan, we’ll be through Tyrorken’s atmosphere before they can detect us.”
“That’s a big ‘if,’” Macnelia said. She held up her hand with the tips of her thumb and forefinger nearly touching. “I’m this close to calling this whole thing off.”
“What do you mean?” Jyra said. “We can’t. Derek needs our help.”
Macnelia seemed to be deflating where she sat. Jyra hardly recognized the vibrant woman she had talked to in the presence of the bomb she designed.
“We can do this,” Jyra said firmly. “We’ve done so much and gotten this far.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this mission since I got the news,” Macnelia said. Jyra didn’t have to ask; she knew “the news” referred to Dario’s death.
“I’m wondering what good can come of more carnage,” Macnelia continued. “When we drop the bomb on those TF people, they have families and loved ones who care about them and who are going to miss them as much as I miss Dario.”
A sudden surge of comprehension coursed through Jyra as she realized Macnelia struggled with guilt similar to her own regarding the death of the shipyard guard. For a moment, it was impossible to see any distinction, but the difference emerged.
“That may be true,” Jyra said. “But as you told me, this is about more than that. TF threatens the future of the entire planet. It’s on the cusp of compromising every human life on Tyrorken. The families of the TF employees might have to mourn their loved ones from the comfort of a transport as they fly away from the dying world, but at least they’ll be alive. This resistance represents a last stand for Tyrorken.”
“You sound like you should be in charge of this campaign,” Macnelia said, finally allowing a small smile to creep across her face.
“Berk said you were leader,” Jyra said.
“I suppose,” Macnelia said vaguely.
Jyra took a deep breath, realizing she was about to reveal that Berk shared information from his conversation with Macnelia.
“Do you remember what you were thinking about when you set the time bomb?”
Macnelia’s smile vanished and her expression became cold. She glared at Jyra, but then directed her gaze at the floor, squinting.
“I was thinking about Dario,” she said. “I was thinking that I was about to avenge his death. But I had competing thoughts that were quite similar to the ones I just shared. Would this mission get back at those responsible for Dario’s death? I still can’t answer that question and I keep expecting a definitive reply to present itself. While I’m waiting, we’re on our way to fulfill the mission anyway. So it sounds like I’ve already decided. But of course I haven’t. These thoughts keep going around, like a ship circling a planet and they distract me. That very distraction nearly took out this ship and everyone on it.”
“Why did you tell me you wouldn’t have been surprised if we left you behind?” Jyra said.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Macnelia said. Her lips curved into a wry smile. “I thought I was going crazy. No resistance needs someone in that state because they make mistakes. There’s a big difference between planning an attack and carrying it out. I can handle the slow buildup, but the rushing execution brings out the worst in me. During the planning stage lives generally aren’t put on the line. Now we’re on our way to destroy who knows how many.”
“It’s worth it,” Jyra said. Macnelia wiped her eyes and pushed her hair back with one hand.
“I’m glad you think so,” she said.
*
Jyra wished she could keep working on the energy cores in order to ease her mind. As she wandered through the ship, she thought about the question she’d blurted after the frosty exchange with Shandra. It was easy to understand Neeka’s concern for Derek. Jyra found it harder to pinpoint the trigger of Macnelia’s misery, but Berk’s idea of repressed feelings seemed likely. Of course, Berk was also distressed, but Jyra figured he was more agitated over Macnelia’s wellbeing. She couldn’t determine the source of Shandra’s irritation and wondered if anyone aboard might offer some clues. As far as Jyra could tell, neither Craig nor Leonick were affected by the gloom that had spread throughout Mastranada.
Still absorbed in her pondering, Jyra returned to the cockpit and saw Berk sitting in front of his console.
“Any more news about our water supplies?” Jyra said.
“It’s more fascinating than you can imagine,” Berk replied. He threw back his head and drained his flask, which he dropped to the floor. Jyra noticed three others scattered around his boots.
“How many flasks do you own?” she asked, scooping them up from under him. She screwed all the caps on and dumped the collection on the console.
“Six,” Berk said. “Why? Do you have one you want to give me?”
“No,” Jyra said, taking her seat while trying to ignore the dented panel next to her. “It just looks like you’ve been drinking more than usual, though there’s nothing usual about it.”
“That’s reminds me of something unusual I found,” Berk said, sitting up in his chair. “Apparently, the air mixture in here is higher in 02 than most ships. I know Leonick was using a torch in the engine room and I think the air in there is probably balanced enough for that. However, open flame elsewhere might be a bit risky.”
“Does anyone aboard smoke?” Jyra asked.
“If they do, we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
“I’m serious.”
“I haven’t seen anyone with cigarettes,” Berk said. “I think we’re safe.”
Jyra saw Tyrorken looming before them and leaned back to check Berk’s screen, but it was too far away to see clearly.
“What’s our arrival status?” she asked.
“We’re about two hours from the new coordinates,” Berk said. “They’ll be moving away from us soon, though. That said, I think we’ll be on the ground in no more than three hours.”
“I might get some more sleep if you’ve got things squared away here,” Jyra said, standing and stretching her arms behind her head.
Berk reached across the console to access the air processor controls and his sleeve brushed the empty flasks. They clattered to the floor and he sat back to stare at the mess. Then Berk glanced at Jyra over his shoulder.
“I’m all right,” he said. Jyra raised her eyebrows in reply and left the cockpit.
She settled on her cot, surrendering to the fatigue that crept in from her extremities. The barrage of thoughts lost their distinction and entwined with each other. As she closed her eyes, Jyra envisioned the ideas coalescing in a long, shining rope that stretched into the depths of her mind. Sleep switched off her consciousness and she murmured to herself in the darkness of her room.
“I’m more than these thoughts.”
*
The cot slid sideways and Jyra rolled off of it. Though disoriented and still half asleep, she threw out her arms and braced herself as she was pitched into a corner of her room. The gentle vibration had been replaced by a constant lurching of the ship. Jyra retrieved her boots, which had migrated to another corner, and pulled them on. Clinging to the wall of the passage, she made her way to the cockpit. Berk was where she had left him. Macnelia clung to the back of his chair and a dusty glaring light flooded over the consoles. A particularly wild jerk threw Jyra into the cockpit and she caught herself on her chair. She hastily took her seat and clipped into the safety harness. The roar of air rushing over the exterior of the ship filled their ears.
“What’s going on?” Jyra shouted, as though she were speaking in the middle of a hurricane.
“Local air pressure’s too thin to support us!” Berk shouted. “We keep hitting rough patches that slow us down, but aside from those, we’re in a freefall toward the planet.”
Jyra did her best to review the gravity data, but her fingers keep slamming the incorrect keys on the keyboard, which shook as violently as the rest of Mastranada. The ship’s haphazard descent flummoxed the G sensors. Jyra saw the artificial gravity system actuator clicking on and off because the readings on Tyrorken’s gravity kept fluctuating.
“Altitude?” Jyra said.
“Can’t say!” Berk hollered. “No reading!”
Mastranada plunged through clouds, all various shades of brown. Despite the flashing warning lights and intermittent blaring of alarms, Jyra couldn’t block out the churning feeling in her stomach. A dull tan haze was all she could see through the cockpit glass. The ship suddenly flipped forward as the aft launch thruster caught a dense patch of air the front thruster missed. The stern-over-bow tumbling caused the engines to speed the ship toward the ground and then immediately counteract that trajectory.
“Get out of here!” Berk shouted to Macnelia as her body fell over his; she managed to maintain a grip on the back of his seat.
“It’s not safe!” Jyra said, jerking her head toward the exit. “Go!”
Macnelia slid off the seat and clambered free of the cockpit as the ship began the rotation of its second flip.
“We need a blast from the engines!” Jyra said. “Break the rolling momentum!”
Berk raised a thumb from his fist and nodded.
“At negative one hundred and ten!” Jyra said. She stared at the brown haze through the cockpit glass as she hung upside down in her harness.
As Berk fired the engines and Mastranada shot toward the ground, Jyra felt the pressure in her ears relax. Her body also eased off the back of her seat, indicating the speed of the ship’s descent decreased.
“Altitude?” she shouted.
“We have a reading!” Berk said. “Twenty thousand and we’re stabilizing.”
The rushing sound of air faded and the computer reoriented the launch thrusters to correct Mastranada’s landing position. The ship dropped through the haze and Jyra finally glimpsed the surface of her home world again. She ignored the thought of her parents that threatened to push into her mind and focused instead on landing procedures.
“Any read on where we are relative to TF headquarters?” Jyra said. Berk shook his head.
“The computer’s still calibrating,” he said. “We should extend the legs, though. We’ll be on the ground soon.”
Mastranada landed in a vast plain under a caramel colored sky. The few trees in sight had twisted trunks and the punishing climate had long since sucked away their moisture.
Jyra unclipped from the harness and stood up, hoping her stomach would settle.
“Until the computer catches up, we won’t know much,” Berk said.
Jyra left the cockpit and headed to the cargo bay. The straps had held most of the supplies in place. A few loose crates had been tossed about the room during the landing, but the damage appeared minimal. Jyra stepped into the passageway, preferring to use the smaller door, rather than empty most of the fresh air from the ship out of the cargo bay. She was about to open the door, when she heard a voice behind her.
“Watch out for the hull plates. They’re still too hot to touch.”
Jyra turned and saw Shandra leaning against the wall. She looked disheveled, likely caused by the tumultuous landing.
“I will,” Jyra said. “I’m not even sure why I want to go out there. The air’s horrible.”
Shandra approached, rubbing her right arm with her left hand.
“Sorry about earlier,” she said. “Sometimes my anger gets the better of me.”
“Happens to all of us,” Jyra said, hoping she sounded both nonchalant and sincere.
“It’s just—” Shandra paused. Jyra was suddenly reminded of when Berk had hesitated before sharing the information about the causes of Macnelia’s frustration.
“I used to be a metalworker,” Shandra said. “All the scars on my arms were from regular work, except for one.”
She stopped talking again at the sound of hurried footsteps. Neeka appeared at the end of the passage.
“Is the computer up yet?” she asked, rushing toward Shandra and Jyra. Her eyes were wide and her hands were clenched near her stomach.
“What is it?” Jyra said.
“I remember,” Neeka said. “The Nilcyn code. I remember where I’ve seen it before!”