Craig is up to something. He must be telling the others about how I doubted Macnelia. Never mind that he didn’t take the shot that might have saved her. The man on Drometica was right about Craig: “You’re not the type who shoots and moves on. You agonize over the decision.” If he hadn’t hesitated, Macnelia might still be alive.
Jyra’s stomach contracted, interrupting her stream of thought. The memory of the guard Berk shot in Mastranada’s engine room took command of her focus. The guard’s body must be buried under the shattered mountain, a tumble of broken rock, all that remained of the resistance base on Drometica.
How many guards did we kill on Orasten? But they were attacking. They wanted to kill us. And they got one of us.
Jyra sat up on her bunk, shaking her head and staring around her dimly lit room that had become a cell. The door refused to open and no one came to unlock it. The air vents were too small to accommodate her. She could do nothing but wait. Her thoughts returned to her home world. Jyra hoped to save it through her involvement in the resistance, but the heat on Tyrorken was rising and there was no way to stop it. In a few months, no one would be able to survive on its surface.
“How did I end up here?” she said aloud, pushing herself off her mattress to resume pacing. She swept her hair out of her eyes as her face split into an incredulous smile. There was no other way to acknowledge her peculiar circumstances. She had spent her life on Tyrorken dreaming of exploring space while working as an apprentice mechanic. She had never thought of killing anyone, let alone rationalizing such an action. And now here she was on an enemy ship the resistance commandeered (by chance), locked up by a former friend, with no explicit reason given for her imprisonment.
What do I do when they let me out? Jyra wondered. No matter the explanation, how can I properly serve some cause when, at any moment, someone might decide to lock me up? Jyra realized it was possible others had been sealed in their quarters too. Except Berk. If he ran out of whiskey, he’d smash his way out. He could probably manage it even if he had plenty to drink to keep him in check.
Jyra knelt on the floor and pressed her fingertips to the cold metal. She didn’t feel any vibration and supposed the engines were silent. For now, it seemed the resistance wasn’t rushing back to destroy TF ships. Jyra returned to her bunk and huddled under her blanket. She stared at the picture of Dario she had retrieved from Macnelia’s room. The frame had several deep scratches and some of the paint had chipped away.
Without thinking, Jyra stretched out her hand and picked up the picture. She turned it around and bent open the backing tabs. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she certainly didn’t think a piece of paper and another photo would fall onto her mattress. The back of the photo of Dario was blank along with the backing. Jyra set the frame aside and picked up the loose photo. It was the picture Macnelia had taken of Jyra and Craig together in front of Mastranada before the bomb run. The smell of her neighborhood burning filled Jyra’s nose through memory. She half crumpled the photo and threw it aside onto her blanket. Her attitude toward Craig now couldn’t be more different from the moment Macnelia snapped the picture. It captured another time, not long past, though it felt as if years intervened.
Jyra turned her attention to the piece of paper and turned it over with trembling fingers. Jyra couldn’t even read for a moment, overwhelmed with the joy of seeing her brother’s words again.
The feeling didn’t last long as she began reading:
My dear Macnelia,
I hope the mountains are treating you well. My parents and I are looking into employment opportunities for me at TF. It looks like I might be working out on the rigs. It’s not the safest thing to do, but it will get me into the company. My sister’s worried enough for both of us, so don’t you get nervous either.
I talked to Dad about the drilling compounds for the Drometica mission. He’s not sure why the containers aren’t identified. Normally they’re clearly marked. He told me some of them are likely more aggressive than the usual solvents, so be careful with them.
They’ve finally got the supply ship crash site mostly cleaned up. Even so, I went into town today and there are still lines of people outside the medical clinics.
Stay safe. Next time you see me, maybe we’ll be coworkers.
All my love,
Dario
Jyra got to the end of the letter and recognized how much she marveled at her brother’s handwriting; she had been too distracted to absorb any of the content. She reread the letter and folded the paper in half, realizing Macnelia must have contracted her illness during her work for TF on Drometica. Dario was trying to protect her by identifying the chemicals she had to use. For some reason, as evidenced by Dario’s words, they weren’t labeled.
Until she saw it in the letter, Jyra had completely forgotten about the TF ship that crashed on Tyrorken, carrying drums of drilling solvents. Flames burned for days at the crash site, belching smoke the color of crude oil into the sky. The ship had gone down near a small suburb and within few weeks, every resident reported to medical clinics. After hearing about Craig’s parents and living through Macnelia’s death, Jyra was sure she knew what illness they had caught.
Maybe in the wake of the ship crash and the resulting threat to public health, TF started removing the labels so workers wouldn’t know if they were using harmful substances. Jyra rolled over, resting her head on her pillow and allowing her thoughts carry her to sleep.
She woke up, aware of a fading dream of the black smoke from the ship crash billowing upward. It mixed with the clouds and spread across the sky, moving with the wind. Even when a part of TF literally crashed and burned, it still brought the planet closer to death. Jyra hadn’t been able to accept the reality that Tyrorken was beyond saving. Even before Berk confirmed it, Macnelia had told Jyra TF was killing the planet. It seemed farfetched at the time, but it was happening and Jyra could do nothing to stop it. Until she could leave her room, she had no way to even know what was going on. She kicked the blanket off, her dream replaced by questions she couldn’t answer.
*
A muted clicking noise caught Jyra’s attention. She was sorting through her duffel bag on the floor and turned around, looking for the source of the sound. The door to her room slid back halfway and Leonick entered hastily. He immediately slid the door shut and let out a long breath.
“What’s happening?” Jyra asked, keeping her voice low.
“Craig,” Leonick said. “He had you sealed in your quarters. He has made some serious accusations against you.”
“Do they involve anything about how I thought Macnelia wasn’t fit to lead the resistance?” Jyra asked.
“Yes,” Leonick said. As usual, his face was impossible to read. “He also said you accused him of letting one of the ship guards shoot Macnelia.”
“He’s exaggerating,” Jyra said. “I told him I was worried about Macnelia. As it turned out, I was right to be worried. Am I the only one locked up and does he intend to keep me here while we try to wipe out the TF fleet with one ship?”
“Yes. Craig seems to have assumed the role of leader,” Leonick said.
“How? Why? I’ve never understood how that role is determined,” Jyra said, aware that her voice was growing louder. “Did he just claim it? Did everyone vote to grant him that position?”
“Things are certainly more charged than usual,” Leonick said. “He is telling people what they want to hear.”
“But you can see through it,” Jyra said. “We both can. There’s a difference between taking a wise path forward and waging a reckless attack. You’re opinion matters, too. What does Berk think?”
“I do not know what Berk thinks.”
“But you two are friends,” Jyra said.
“Sometimes,” Leonick said. “We have traveled together awhile, but Berk is not always himself. I believe he is more vulnerable now and more willing to follow orders.”
“What are they? What does Craig want to do?”
“He wants to head toward Tyrorken and, depending on the risks, start firing on TF ships.”
“What about the cameras?” Jyra asked. “You told everyone about them. Whatever ship you destroy makes you the next target.”
“Craig wants me to build a device that will send out a frequency that disrupts the cameras.”
“Can you do that?”
Leonick shrugged.
“Until I get something built, we cannot begin the assault,” he said.
“The attack still seems like a bad idea,” Jyra said, dropping back onto her bunk. “It’s like you said: agitated minds do not create sound plans.”
“I think I am underestimating how the loss of Macnelia is affecting the others,” Leonick said. “It could be the reason Craig and his plans appeal to them now.”
Jyra took a deep breath before she asked her next question.
“Do you believe what Craig said about me?”
“I do not,” Leonick said. “But I was struck by you comparing the resistance to the enemy we face. You are the only person aboard this ship who seems to have recognized the importance of distinguishing us from them. Craig’s desire to fight is a consequence of a general loss of focus.”
Jyra leaned against the wall. Although she had been cooped up in her room, she felt exhausted. She remembered how she felt after hearing that her home planet was lost. Never had she been so gripped by despair. Even following the deaths of those closest to her, Jyra had been able to act, to somehow respond to the atrocities.
“The resistance failed me,” Jyra muttered.
“I understand,” Leonick said. Jyra wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, but rather than find out, she asked a broader question.
“Why are you here?” she said.
Leonick crept back to the door and placed his ear against it for a moment. Then he walked across the room to stand in front of Jyra. He stared squarely into her eyes as he spoke.
“I am here to give you choice.”
*
Jyra didn’t know what to say in the wake of Leonick’s elaboration. One thing was clear: if Craig held his position as the leader, Jyra couldn’t hope to be involved in the resistance.
“I have no certainty about his long-term plan,” Leonick said. “That said, I would not be surprised if Craig tries to leave you at the next port, whenever or wherever that may be.”
Every time I think about the resistance, I think about its futility and weakness, Jyra thought. The idea didn’t trigger the usual mental misgivings or rationalizations. She accepted it and took a deep breath.
“I joined the resistance to bring down TF,” she said. “We destroyed their main complex, but wiping them out completely will take much longer unless we recruit more members. I don’t see that happening if we launch an attack we’re not ready for. The resistance won’t survive if Craig doesn’t make that a priority.
“I got into the resistance following my brother’s death. During the mission to rescue Derek, I heard my parents die. Now Macnelia’s dead. I can’t be surrounded by loss anymore, especially if I’m a subordinate to someone who wants to lock me in my room.”
“I understand,” Leonick repeated. “And I agree with you. Death is not easy to cope with, but I hope you find your way to the peace you need. You have a strong spirit and when TF eventually falls, I expect you will have a part in its demise.”
“If I had my way, I wouldn’t kill anyone ever again,” Jyra said. “I can’t imagine passing such misery to others.”
“I do not speak of taking the lives of people,” Leonick said. “I do not do that myself, but I have no qualms about ending an immoral organization that is responsible for thousands of deaths.”
“So my choice is to stay here or leave,” Jyra said heavily. “Are you suggesting I wait for Craig to pitch me out on another planet?”
“I figured you would rather choose your time of departure, which means you can leave whenever you wish.”
“You told me Craig is retrofitting Mastranada with one of the laser cannons,” Jyra said. “I can’t take that ship.”
“Nor would I advise it,” Leonick said. “No need to make Craig any angrier with you.”
“Well I don’t want to throw open a door and go for a walk in space. It’s cold out there and there’s nothing to stand on.”
“I thought a crisis capsule might serve as a better way to exit the vessel,” Leonick said.
Jyra hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense. She could fit everything she needed in one and, for the second time in her life, leave everything she knew behind.
“I don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head. “How come you aren’t leading the resistance?”
Leonick smiled his small smile.
“I am too smart for that,” he said.
“No seriously,” Jyra said. “Why aren’t you?”
“The position has been filled,” Leonick said, then his smile disappeared. “More to the point, I am not equipped to be an effective leader of this resistance. I would have to give orders to take lives. I have only chosen to kill once. That experience changed me, not for the better, and I do not plan to ever do anything like it again. Pack your things.”
*
Ten minutes later, they met in the corridor that led to the crisis capsules. Leonick presented Jyra with a heavy package wrapped in paper.
“Put it in your duffel if you can,” he whispered. “And be careful where you use it.”
“What is it?” Jyra asked.
“You will find out later,” he said. “We must hurry.”
They moved down the corridor, their ears straining to hear anything besides two pairs of footsteps. Once they rounded the first corner, Leonick spoke in the same whisper.
“Do you have any weapons?”
“A dagger.”
“Better than nothing,” Leonick said. “All the guns are secured now so I could not get one for you. Remember, there is no telling where you might land. It could be in a city or the wilderness. Take time to get your bearings.”
He pulled a bottle and small box from inside his coat and handed them to her as they walked side by side.
“Food and water,” he continued briskly. “If you run out of water and you are outside civilization, finding fresh water is your top priority. If there is an ocean nearby, do not drink from it.”
Jyra nodded stiffly. Each step she took toward the capsules reinforced what she was about to do.
“What planet am I likely to land on?” she asked.
“Silanpre I think,” Leonick replied. “It happens to be orbiting about as close as it gets to Tyrorken.”
“Isn’t that where Berk is from?” Jyra asked.
“It is,” Leonick said shortly.
“Does everyone believe what Craig said about me?”
Leonick didn’t answer immediately. At that moment, the crisis capsules appeared as the rounded the next corner.
“Neeka and Shandra seem to agree with his point of view,” Leonick said as Jyra set her duffel on the floor. “Derek defended you a few times but ultimately fell silent. I could not figure out what Berk was thinking. I suspect he still respects you.”
“I wish I could say good-bye to him,” Jyra said.
Leonick nodded and bowed his head ever so slightly.
“Too risky,” he said. “But I will pass the word along.”
“At least I can tell you good-bye,” Jyra said. “And thank you. We both know where I’d be if you didn’t come along. Why did you?”
Leonick paused again, but his face betrayed nothing about what went on behind his eyes.
“I do not know what Craig intended to do with you,” he said. “Locking you in your room was not a promising start. The way I see it, if someone is working against TF in any capacity, that grander cause is better served by keeping such a person out of confinement. Besides that, I think you are persistent and your ambition is bigger than this resistance. That is why I gave you a choice.”
“Persistent?” Jyra asked, raising her eyebrows.
“You are still here,” Leonick said. Jyra remembered telling herself that, but a ship wide broadcast interrupted the memory.
“Jyra, I know you can hear me,” Craig’s voice blared out of the nearest speaker. “I need to speak with you in the main hangar. Please meet me there in five minutes.”
“All significant choices have tests,” Leonick said, uncharacteristically rolling his eyes at the speaker. “But you haven’t lost focus,” he added as Jyra approached the nearest crisis capsule.
She pulled the access lever. The door dropped down and revealed the inside of the tiny spacecraft. The interior was painted gray. The small control console lit up beneath a porthole filled with far away stars. A single seat complete with a built-in safety harness, sat in the middle of the capsule. A small storage locker had been framed into the wall next to the door and Jyra managed to stuff her duffel inside it and secure the latch.
“You can figure out how to control it,” Leonick said. Jyra wasn’t sure if it was a statement or question.
“I can’t exactly navigate, can I?” Jyra said.
“A couple thrusters can push you left or right to avoid obstacles during landing. Aside from that, the capsule falls where it falls.”
“Why overcomplicate something like falling?” Jyra said, hoping the sarcasm would settle her nerves. She placed the food and water on the floor next to the seat, and noticed the water rippling in the bottle. She stepped back into the corridor for a final good-bye.
“If I land in the ocean, what do I do?” she asked.
“There is a raft in the locker with your duffel,” Leonick said. “The capsule should come to the surface and remain there for about fifteen minutes before it sinks so get out as fast as you can.”
Without another word, Leonick opened his arms and pulled Jyra into a brief hug. She felt his greasy shirt and caught the aroma of stale whiskey, suddenly struck by how much she was going to miss it.
“Thank you again,” she said. “Good luck with the time machine.”
Leonick only smiled. Jyra turned her back to climb into the capsule. She cinched the harness around her and took a deep breath. She almost forgot about the provisions next to her on the floor; she scooped up her water and food and secured them in a compartment next to the console.
Jyra placed her palm over a yellow button, its blinking light throwing an amber glow onto the walls, and dropped her hand. The capsule began to vibrate and Jyra heard the launch drive winding up. The door hissed shut, the cabin pressurized, and the dynamo roared, spitting the capsule from the ship and taking Jyra into space with it.