Leonick spent the next two days in Mastranda’s engine room, making small adjustments and repairs. Everyone else chose new quarters in Valiant Conductor II. Despite Leonick’s best efforts, there were some things he alone could not improve. Although she would fly true, the water supply tanks on Mastranada were nearly empty after everyone went through the shower. They would likely run dry before they could be refilled.
On Valiant Conductor II, Jyra unpacked her duffel bag in a spacious room located across the hall from Derek and Neeka’s quarters. All of her clothes fit into one dresser drawer out of the five built into the wall. As she laid her final shirt in place, she thought of her dresser in her room on Tyrorken, its contents turned to ash along with the rest of the house. She glanced up at the mirror mounted in front of her.
TF has taken everything from me, she thought, tucking her hair behind her ears. But I’m still here.
Even the rare glimpse of satisfaction couldn’t distract Jyra from her surroundings. Her new quarters were more accommodating and comfortable than they had been on Mastranada, but the sterile, angular aesthetics reminded her of the TF complex. She remembered the sound of the rifle shots that killed her parents and she tore her gaze from the mirror.
“This is where I belong,” she told herself firmly. “Vengeance is only made better by destroying the enemy with their own machine.” Not even her own voice could silence the doubts that festered in her head. The plan to attack TF ships was by no means a surprise; Macnelia had made that a clear objective and the onboard laser cannons were ready. Jyra became more and more preoccupied with the idea that the resistance would imminently face enemy ships in battle.
She found memories of her family leading to thoughts of the coming assault on the enemy fleet, which were followed by a slew of worries. Valiant Conductor II disguised the resistance as a TF associate, but it would only last until they attacked the first ship. How well were the TF ships fortified for battle? What had happened to the Nilcyn fleet that attacked TF at the same time the resistance broke into the complex to save Derek?
The Nilcyns were perhaps Jyra’s greatest concern because no one in the resistance seemed to know why they had targeted TF. Did their offensive overlap with the resistance assault simply by coincidence? Neeka had discovered a common code between TF and the Nilcyns, but no one had been able to draw any conclusions from the mysterious connection.
It didn’t help that thinking of the Nilcyns reminded Jyra of the man she and Craig encountered in the stock room back on Drometica. When she asked him what the Nilcyns were, he’d told her they were trouble.
“You’ll want to watch out for the Nilcyns,” he’d said.
Tired of having only her thoughts and memories for company, Jyra left her room and knocked on the door across the hall, self-conscious about disturbing a couple in their own room.
“Come in,” Derek called after a moment. Jyra entered and discovered that Neeka wasn’t there.
Derek was propped against the wall in his bunk staring at a screen mounted on a swiveling arm on one of the footboard bedposts. The wounds on his face were finally healing up, but he still looked as gaunt as ever since the rescue. He smiled when he saw Jyra and motioned for her to take a seat on the other bunk, which was still made.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“Plenty,” Jyra said. “You look terrible,” she added with a smile, keen to keep the conversation away from her worries.
“At least you’re honest,” he said. He shifted his wounded leg and wiped his brow. “The last thing I need is false hope and empty encouragement.”
“Is something wrong?” Jyra said.
“Not according to Leonick,” Derek said. “It’s just a matter of time until I heal, but it could take a while. I know everyone’s worried about me and I don’t like it. The worries of others won’t help me get better.”
“I’m certain your leg’s going to recover,” Jyra said. “I don’t want your attitude to suffer, too.”
“Neeka’s helped me stay occupied,” Derek said, nodding toward the screen. “She hacked into a newsfeed from Tyrorken. TF claims the Nilcyns attacked them.”
“If the Nilcyns haven’t been able to disrupt the feed, maybe that means TF defeated them,” Jyra said.
“Neeka’s up the bridge right now, trying to figure out what happened to them,” Derek said.
“That’s a relief,” Jyra said.
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t avoid her own thoughts now.
“It’s just strange, isn’t it?” Jyra said. “The Nilcyns attacked TF the same time we did. And there’s that code Neeka found linking the two. It seems like there’s more going on that we know about, but that we should know. We’re about to engage in ship-to-ship combat with the TF fleet. What if the remaining Nilcyn ships fight for them? We’re already outnumbered and if we have to face a second fleet as well…”
“As I understand it, we’re going to hit as many TF ships as we can and then run,” Derek said. “A blitz.”
“Macnelia said we were going hunt down every TF ship,” Jyra said.
“I think that was something of an exaggeration on her part,” Derek said gently. “I’m sure it could be done, but it’s far too risky. This resistance has worked by executing campaigns that hit hard and fast. Lingering to wipe out a fleet with two ships, only one of which is armed, isn’t practical.”
Jyra found the question on her tongue again. Leonick didn’t have an answer, but maybe Derek would.
“Has something happened to Macnelia recently?” she asked.
“Can you be more specific?”
“Well, she just seems a little more distracted than usual.” She didn’t want to reveal she’d eavesdropped on Berk and Macnelia so she named another example.
“You heard about when we left Drometica and destroyed the base there?”
“Yes,” Derek nodded. “If the detonation came a couple minutes sooner, that would have ended it all.”
“She didn’t seem like herself that day either,” Jyra said.
“I see what you mean,” Derek said. “All I can do is guess. She’s under a lot of pressure and she harbors much hate toward TF.”
“Don’t we all?” Jyra said.
“Yes, but we’re not all leading this resistance,” Derek said. “If I were you, I’d ask Macnelia yourself.”
“I’ll need to come up with a better opening question first,” Jyra said.
“Yes, that wouldn’t hurt,” Derek said. He glanced at the screen.
“Anything new?” Jyra asked.
“Just more footage of what’s left of the complex.” Derek turned the screen with the foot on his uninjured leg so Jyra could see more clearly. It was nearly impossible to tell how enormous the building had once been. The footage had been captured from the air and clouds of smoke occasionally obscured the view.
“Not much left,” Jyra said.
“That’s as it should be,” Derek said.
The footage cut to a wrecked Nilcyn ship on the ground, covered in flames. Through the fire, Jyra could see the insignia on the side. She remembered seeing it for the first time on Drometica.
“Why do they mark their ships?” she said.
“Solidarity,” Derek said. “And for intimidation. Organized fleets like them are taboo in the galaxy. Even so, the insignia bears a certain degree of cowardice.”
“What? Should the “N” not be capitalized?” Jyra said with a smile. Derek shook his head.
“They’re applied with a paint that fades in a few days,” he said. “They mark their ships right before an attack. Soon after they depart, they split up and the insignias become as clear as glass on their hulls. It’s one of the main reasons they’ve managed to exist for so long.”
“If Neeka has their code or a code they use, couldn’t she disrupt it?”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Derek said. “She went up to the bridge about an hour ago to look into that code more. I think she’s acting on Macnelia’s orders. And I know Macnelia wants to know what the Nilcyns are up to as well. She may be angry and under pressure, but I think she’s still got us on the right path.”
“Thanks for the talk,” Jyra said, standing to leave.
“Time and talk is all I’ve got,” Derek said. He smiled, but he looked as though he didn’t want Jyra to go.
*
Valiant Conductor II had come about so Tyrorken was visible from the bridge. The ship was locked at its coordinates to maximize the accuracy of the radar readings. Most of the lights were still off, although there wasn’t any ship close enough that could tell the difference. Jyra glanced at her home world and then, through the gloom, spotted Neeka staring at a monitor. She approached and took the empty chair next to her.
“How’s it going?” Jyra asked.
“Slowly,” Neeka said, heaving a sigh. The code paraded across the screen. Every few seconds, a vertical line of characters cut through those that marched horizontally.
“That’s one of the things that’s making this harder,” Neeka said, tapping one of the scrolling vertical lines. “As it intersects the standard lines, each character completes a phrase or word or who knows what. I can’t believe I didn’t remember where I’d seen this sooner. I never figured out what it meant, but it’s so distinctive.”
“The one that got away can still play tricks years later,” Jyra said.
“Plus it’s easy to lose focus when an obsession’s involved,” Neeka said.
“Can you tell who’s sending this?” Jyra asked.
“It’s still between TF and the Nilcyns,” Neeka said, leaning closer to the monitor. “I think it’s mostly transmissions from the Nilcyns. Whatever it is, they’re posting it quickly.”
“Are they trying to negotiate?” Jyra wondered aloud.
“Could be” Neeka said. The code was moving faster on the screen. “If they keep this up, the encryptor won’t sustain the pace much longer.”
“Will it slow the entire message transfer or will it just pass the raw data through?”
“I don’t know,” Neeka said. “They’ve been careful enough up to this point.”
“Can’t the computers aboard this ship decode this for us?” Jyra asked.
“This is as much as the computers can decode,” Neeka said, nodding at the monitor. “It’d be twice as hard to do on Mastranada’s computer.”
“How’s it going?” Macnelia said, appearing from behind and putting a hand on Neeka’s shoulder.
“About the same,” Neeka said. “I think the Nilcyns are getting frenetic with their transmissions, though. If we’re lucky, they’ll overrun the encryptor soon.”
“Let’s hope they do,” Macnelia said.
She turned to leave and Jyra stood up faster than she meant to, which led her to speaking quicker than she intended.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Sure,” Macnelia said. “Follow me. I have to go check on the plans for the attack.”
“Who’s working on them?”
“Berk, Craig, and Shandra started right after they got situated in their new quarters. They’re not too far along I’m sure, but hopefully they have some ideas. But I don’t think that’s what you meant to ask about.”
“No,” Jyra said. “But actually it’s related.”
They climbed down the ladder from the bridge into the lower passage and headed aft.
“Something you said made me think we were going to destroy all the remaining TF ships,” Jyra said.
“Well yes,” Macnelia said breezily. “That’s the plan, but it may not be realistic to achieve in one attack. If we get into this fight and the battle turns against us, we’ll retreat. You can’t fight another day once you’re dead. So we’ll fall back and strike again.”
“What if they chase us?”
“We’ll isolate them and pick them off,” Macnelia said.
“How many ships are out there?” Jyra said. Macnelia finally stopped walking and turned around in the corridor.
“You’re trying to make some kind point,” she said sharply. “Just say it.”
“I’m worried that we can’t pull it off,” Jyra said. Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt the beginnings of relief, having finally spoken some of her thoughts.
“I don’t think we know enough about what we’re up against to organize such a thorough assault,” she added.
“Neeka will crack the code and we’ll be able to contact TF command,” Macnelia said. “We’ll pose as one of their ships returning from a mission and ask for an update on the crisis. Then we’ll know everything we need: ship counts, positions, and anticipated trajectories. And we’ll hit them.”
Jyra’s first thought was how soon Neeka would actually solve the code. At the moment, she seemed completely lost. Macnelia’s lips tightened.
“That sounds better,” Jyra lied. Macnelia didn’t seem to be in much of a mood to talk and Jyra didn’t want her to get upset.
“Excellent,” Macnelia said. The word snapped like belt and Jyra took a deep breath, relieved that she had the sense to end the conversation.
It was a fleeting feeling. It occurred to Jyra that Macnelia had been the one dodging specifics. She spoke as if she had already decided how they were going to attack, yet she was on her way to discuss those very plans. What needed to be deliberated if Macnelia had the final word anyway?
She’s decided, Jyra realized, struggling to keep a level head as the consequences of this fact fought for her attention.
But there was doubt, she thought, recalling Macnelia’s words. “If the battle turns against us…” What did that mean? If she had been quicker, Jyra would have clarified what circumstances would cause the resistance to retreat from the attack. She didn’t want to discuss the assault with Macnelia anytime soon, but maybe she could uncover the details another way.
*
The planners weren’t hard to find; they were gathered under the laser cannons, staring at a projection on the floor. The image showed a real-time rendering of Tyrorken in space that even included some of the larger ships positioned around it. The tiny projector had been clipped onto one of the laser cannons, the lens glowed brightly as it cast its bright light.
“I think we fly to the far side of the planet and orbit around to meet these ships locked in position,” Craig said, as Jyra approached. She saw Macnelia glance at her but didn’t meet her eyes.
“These ideas aren’t bad,” Macnelia said. “But none of them take into account what might be on the other side of the planet or what might come up from the surface.”
“We can’t know that,” Shandra said. “Leonick was right when we did the bomb run. The pollution disrupts the radar.”
“Now that you mention Leonick,” Berk said, “he’s been working on restoring Mastranada to full functionality.” Jyra chanced a look at Macnelia. She was frowning slightly and fortunately her attention was on Berk. Jyra knew she didn’t think fixing Mastranada was a priority.
“Some of us could scout with the smaller ship and maybe assess on what’s going on. I know Neeka’s working on the code and she also got that TF newsfeed broadcasting onboard. But the most accurate way to know what’s really going on down there is to use our own eyes,” Berk said.
No one spoke following this suggestion, but Jyra could tell everyone was considering it. Macnelia broke the silence.
“It sounds too risky at this point,” she said. “Once Neeka cracks the code maybe we can get enough of a preliminary reading to make a couple passes with Mastranada as Craig said. This is a good first step, but we need to do more. The longer we wait, the more time the enemy has to regroup.”
She stood and left the hangar for the bridge without another word. Everyone exchanged curious glances. Craig finally cleared his throat and addressed what everyone was thinking.
“So,” he said looking sideways at Berk. “I didn’t realize we looked so alike.”
The tip of Berk’s flask disappeared into his whiskers as he emptied the contents into his mouth.
“We need to get this done before the stress wrecks her,” Berk said.
“Scouting definitely can’t hurt,” Shandra said, turning to gaze at Mastranada. “Maybe I should check with Leonick and get his opinion on the condition of the hull plates that might have been damaged.”
“You can do that once we get a decent plan formed,” Berk said, setting his flask on the floor. “We volunteered to construct this attack so we need to make a little more progress before we start any side projects.”
“It sounds to me like we were just put on hold,” Craig said, nodding toward Macnelia’s wake. “Neeka needs to find something in the code before we can even scout.” Berk fidgeted with his empty flask. “I want to figure out how we’re going to take on the enemy, but I don’t want to do it blindly,” Craig added.
“Fine,” Berk grunted reluctantly. “I’m going to speak with Neeka. In fifteen minutes, though, we meet back here.”
“That’s all the time I need,” Shandra said, standing up and heading for Mastranada. Craig followed her and Jyra remained with Berk. He got to his feet and switched off the projector.
“What do you want?” he said, lumbering toward the main passage.
“I want to ask you about Macnelia,” Jyra said. “Something’s not quite right and don’t tell me it’s just stress. It’s more than that. She didn’t even realize she called you the wrong name.”
“It was kind of Craig to wait to mention that until she was out of earshot,” Berk said, his voice a low growl. Jyra stared at him, encouraging him to continue.
“I don’t know what’s happened to her,” he said, running his fingers through his grizzled hair. “I’ve tried to get a straight answer from her, but it hasn’t worked.”
“Thanks for telling it straight,” Jyra muttered. “I mean, it’s about the only comforting part of it all. I just want to help her if I can.”
“We all do,” Berk said. “I don’t know if anyone else has picked up on it like you and me, but I think it’d be best not to share it with anyone. Not until we get this last attack out of the way.”
An uncomfortable weight materialized in Jyra’s gut at Berk’s words.
“That’s just it,” she said. “The way Macnelia’s been talking about this assault, it’s as though she wants it to be the final one. It seems she doesn’t care if it kills her, but if it does, then we’re all like to go with her.”