The commotion in the ward had settled. All the doors to the recovery rooms were shut. Jyra sat in the very room where she received treatment for smoke inhalation just three days ago. This time, however, her friend occupied the bed. The hospital attack on a resistance bunker in the north killed no one, but it injured every scout stationed there. Jyra dropped by the ward several times, but Serana hadn’t awoken since her surgery.
Shrapnel from an explosion struck Serana in the abdomen and one arm. She nearly bled out before doctors staunched the flow. It took several hours to patch her up. Jyra did her best to maintain her routine, but the events leading to the hospital attack distracted her. The resistance, uncommonly, had no prior warning of the strike.
Jyra managed to review all of the latest intelligence reports. They revealed no potential targets for the mission she hoped to initiate. She thumbed through the briefs late into the night, unable to sleep; the moment her head hit the pillow, she thought of Serana. Jyra either had to return to the intelligence reports or she would pace, mentally stitching together a story in her mind she couldn’t explain any better than she could ignore. Even as she sat in Serana’s recovery room, picking at a loose thread on the chair cushion, her mind wandered to the tantalizing chain of events connected, she swore, by more than chronology.
It started with the Emarand Liberation mission. It not only allowed the hospitals to capture Jyra and Kip, but Fritz, an undercover hospital spy, also seized an opportunity to compromise the entire rescue. Spies in the resistance base then sabotaged the mission that freed Jyra, Kip, and Tony and the enemy captured many who took part in the campaign. A number of those taken prisoner were members of donor families and the rest of the donors turned on Serana. Despite achieving the goal of the mission, the loss of so many overshadowed the victory.
Jyra stared at the bed, plagued by questions only Serana could answer. Why had so many donor family members volunteered for the mission? How had the spies managed to execute such disruption in the base without being detected? Had Serana said anything significant in her last meeting with the donors?
In place of elusive answers, the incessant narrative proceeded in Jyra’s head. The botched mission resulted in Serana’s father relocating her to the scout base in the north rather than banishing Serana from the resistance entirely. It was in that moment when Jyra discerned the power structure of the resistance. Even Serana’s father could not simply overrule the donors. Such a revelation, however, paled in significance when other events fell into place. Serana’s savage treatment of Meriax followed by an almost casual acknowledgement that enemy spies roamed freely in the base were ingredients for a conversation with Serana later.
When Serana left the base, Jyra took her position, facing the pressure of her new job while treading gently on networks of loyalty she didn’t fully understand. A ship inspection ended with a fuel line explosion, her push to weed out spies in the base, the meeting with the donors, and, obviously, the attack on the resistance scouts led both her and Serana to this room.
The chain of events ended, but Jyra waded onward into speculation, a more enticing endeavor that moved beyond facts. Perhaps it was the hostility she sensed from the moment the donor meeting began, but Jyra felt certain that some of them were hospital spies. The very notion made no sense, especially since they were called donors because of the financial support they contributed to the resistance. Why pay for one side and fight for the other? And why would an institution capture its own spies?
A gentle knock on the door jerked Jyra from inside her head. She swiveled in her chair and felt a smile lift her weary face. Kip peered through the door before slipping inside.
“How is she?” he whispered.
“Okay,” Jyra replied. “Still asleep, but the doctors are optimistic.”
Kip carried a chair from the other corner of the room and placed it next to Jyra’s. He rubbed his hands together for a moment.
“How did this happen?” he asked.
Jyra motioned to the door and they retreated to the otherwise deserted hallway.
“I’m trying to figure that out,” Jyra said, as they leaned against the wall. Kip’s pupils flared in the light. “No ideas yet, but it’s bothering me, too.”
“I heard you met with the donors,” Kip said.
“I did,” Jyra said.
“Dania told me,” Kip said. “It didn’t go too well?”
“Not my fault,” Jyra said. “I don’t even want to discuss it.”
“Well Dania mentioned something related to you telling the donors about the prisoner, so I made sure to keep her protected.”
“What do you mean?” Jyra said.
Kip glanced at the floor, apparently stalling in order to choose the right words.
“You told the donors you were going to interview the prisoner in order to plan a strike on the hospitals?”
“Not a strike,” Jyra said. “A mission to gather intelligence.”
Kip shook his head dismissively.
“You were going to fly one of our ships into enemy territory,” he qualified. “The point is, they have their own agenda and will try to thwart you at every turn. You placed value on the prisoner.”
“Her name is Meriax,” Jyra said.
“That won’t matter if she’s dead,” Kip said. “I’m not blaming you, but just…maybe I am blaming you. What I’m trying to say is be careful. The donors want to interfere and I wouldn’t put it past them to kill someone in a cell if it helped ruin your plans.”
Jyra felt panic seize her gut, which must have shown on her face.
“I took care of it,” Kip said in a rush. “I had Dania tell the gatekeeper to only allow you through the gate until you tell him otherwise. Meriax is safe.”
“Thanks,” Jyra said. “Now that I’ve met them, I have to agree with you about the donors and their attitude. Do we really need their support?”
Kip shrugged. Jyra couldn’t keep it to herself anymore.
“Do you think some of the donors could be hospital spies?” she asked. The idea seemed even more implausible when she said it out loud. “I know it sounds crazy,” she added hastily.
“I’ve wondered that myself,” Kip said. “Maybe some of them. But there’s no way to prove it. And why would they be so angry about their captured family members?”
“That’s what I keep getting hung up on, too,” Jyra said. “Until now. What if all the donors are spies? The ones who were captured are just reassigned elsewhere on the planet. Maybe their capture was really a ride home.”
“Well hold on,” Kip said. “If that’s the case, why are they even supporting the resistance? Forget the finances, there’s enough of them in here to destroy this whole base.”
“I don’t have an answer for that,” Jyra said. “Like you said, though, it sounds like they are crafting their own plans.”
“Whatever it is, we can’t let it begin,” Kip said. “It’s too risky.”
“I agree,” Jyra said. “There’s no way to control them, but at least we know they are in the base. If they launch a mission, who knows what they’ll do?”
“There’s no way to restrict their access to resistance intelligence, is there?” Kip asked.
Jyra remembered the woman with the watch in the donor meeting. The second a scheduled batch of new intelligence reports were available, the woman made sure the entire room knew. They couldn’t cut off the supply of the reports to donors without raising suspicion.
“It’s the spy conundrum all over again,” Jyra said, pushing off the wall and walking to the one opposite. Kip shrugged again.
“If we blatantly ban them from accessing intelligence, they’ll revolt,” Jyra said. “Like the spies. If we try to target them one at a time and catch one, the others will go into hiding.”
“One major difference,” Kip said, his eyes growing wide. “The spies would only know what’s happening when we apprehend one. The donors, on the other hand, are relying on something less tangible than a person.”
Jyra couldn’t help but smile. Kip looked at the floor grinning, obviously pleased with himself.
“So when do we begin feeding the donors fake intelligence reports?” Jyra asked.
“As soon as we make them, I suppose,” Kip said.
Jyra crossed back to him and clutched one of his hands in both of her own.
“Thank you for protecting Meriax,” she said. “I need to get some rest and then I’ll speak with her again about the other spies.”
Kip pulled Jyra into a brief hug and placed a kiss on her forehead.
“Is she going to tell you all of her secrets?” he asked as Jyra broke away.
“Hopefully just the one I need,” Jyra said, heading down the corridor.
*
The gate to the holding cells materialized in the darkness. Jyra heard the shuffling steps of the gatekeeper before she saw him. A smile split his wizened face when he saw her, taking Jyra by surprise; the first time she met him, the gatekeeper seemed to have only the capacity to scowl.
“What a relief to see you,” he said, fitting the key in the lock.
“You remember me?” Jyra asked.
“I don’t forget faces,” the gatekeeper said, pulling the gate open. “I’ve had to turn away a couple folks since word came down that only you could pass.”
“Really?” Jyra asked, mentally thanking Kip again for his quick thinking.
The gatekeeper nodded and proceeded down the passage.
“One woman one day and another woman the next,” the gatekeeper said. “First one was definitely a donor. Not sure about the second.”
“What did the first woman look like?” Jyra asked.
“She actually came almost as soon as I got the order to the keep the gate sealed,” the gatekeeper said. “She was older, had a pointy nose, curled hair.”
“How you know she was donor?” Jyra said, though she was sure she already knew the answer.
“She wore a long dress.”
“What about the second?”
“Younger with blond hair. She had a uniform similar to yours. She showed me her card. I think it was from the transport division. I didn’t pay much attention since it wasn’t you. She got angry, but eventually realized she was wasting her time as well as mine.”
“The transport division,” Jyra repeated. “Traffic control?”
“That’s the one,” the gatekeeper said, turning to open the cell adjacent to Meriax’s.
“Thank you,” Jyra said, stepping inside. The gatekeeper withdrew without another word.
Meriax sat on her cot, staring at Jyra. She wore a tattered pair of slacks and a black long sleeve shirt. Her hair stood out against the darkness. Her eyes looked like they were backlit; despite the surrounding gloom, her blue irises were easy to see from a distance.
“How are the clothes?” Jyra asked.
“An improvement,” Meriax said. “I assume you came all the way down here to fit me with a pair of shoes next.”
Jyra didn’t respond, but simply stared into the other cell, determined to wait for Meriax to make the next move. Her patience was rewarded.
“So, you’ve made friends with the gatekeeper,” Meriax said, standing up and lazily gripping a bar on her cell door.
“What makes you say that?” Jyra said, walking closer to the bars between them.
“I know other people have tried to see me,” Meriax said. “It’s not easy to hear what goes on at the main gate from here but I can.”
“Those people were coming to kill you,” Jyra said bluntly.
“But you need to keep me alive,” Meriax said. “So you stopped them.”
“I didn’t,” Jyra said. “If there was an order to increase your protection, I wasn’t the one who issued it.”
“How do you know the donors were coming to kill me?” Meriax asked, shifting her weight to her other leg.
Jyra realized Meriax had indeed been able to hear her conversation with the gatekeeper. She’d have to be more careful in the future but for now she couldn’t let it distract her.
“I told them I’ve met with you,” Jyra said. “The donors have their own agenda and will do everything to upset mine and the rest of the resistance.”
“Aren’t they supporting–?”
“Yes,” Jyra interrupted. “I don’t know if they are going to prevail, but as long as I keep my position, there’s a chance you’ll be released. If the donors gain control, at best you’ll die of starvation where you stand.”
For the first time, a trace of fear passed over Meriax’s face. She tried to make a casual recovery.
“There’s a chance I’ll be released as long as I do what?” she said.
“Answer all of my questions honestly to the best of your ability,” Jyra said.
“Is this a test?”
“Of sorts,” Jyra said, wondering if she should plunge into her questioning or make Meriax wait again, but she thought of her discussion with Kip and the donors pushing their own interests. Time wasn’t on her side.
“Are you or any of the other spies in the base members of donor families?” she said, trying to inject ambivalence into the question.
Meriax turned on her heel and sat on her cot. In addition to forming an answer, Jyra knew the prisoner had to be thinking about how much to say, what information to omit, and how it would all serve her circumstances. Although Jyra had to act quickly, at least she still had the upper hand.
“I am not a member of a donor family,” Meriax said. “I don’t know about any others, if they even exist.”
“They do,” Jyra said. “You yourself admitted Graze planted the bomb where we caught you.”
“Well, if he were alive you could throw him in the cell next to mine. Maybe I could have gotten some info out of him.”
“Where did you train to be a spy?” Jyra asked, scrutinizing Meriax’s expression.
“The Northern Intelligence complex,” Meriax said without hesitation.
“What were your days like?” Jyra asked.
“I don’t keep a diary.”
“What was the program like?” Jyra amended. “Did you train with other spies?”
Meriax crossed to Jyra, stopping at the bars, her wide-eyed stare unwavering.
“I trained with other spies,” Meriax said. “That is how the program worked.”
“How did they track your progress?”
“I don’t understand.”
“How did they assess your skills? How were you selected for missions?” Jyra asked.
Meriax drew away and broke eye contact. She returned to her cot and tossed her hair back, a smile spreading across her face.
“You are after the records,” she said.
“Maybe I am,” Jyra replied with a shrug of ambivalence. She placed a hand on one of the cold cell bars. Meriax already figured it out.
“I don’t know if what I seek exists,” Jyra said. She paused as picked over an idea. “I used to work as a mechanic at a small garage. Tiny place. It only had two service bays. I’ll never forget walking into the office my first day and seeing all of the invoices on my boss’s desk. There must have been hundreds. I thought that if a quaint repair shop generated that much paperwork, how much would an organization like the Allied Resistance make?”
“Or the spy program for the Allied Hospitals?” Meriax suggested.
Jyra said nothing and the prisoner continued.
“I’m not sure what you would do with that information,” she said. “It won’t stop more spies from getting into the base.”
“So those records are kept in the Northern Intelligence complex?” Jyra said, pleased that Meriax evidently misunderstood Jyra’s intentions for the information. Perhaps her smile grew just wide enough to trigger Meriax’s suspicion.
“I can take you to the files,” she said as the fear returned to her eyes.
Jyra nodded.
“All we needed was some cooperation,” Jyra said. “I’ll be back once I get a mission arranged.”
Meriax remained silent as she came to the bars and clutched them as Jyra summoned the gatekeeper.
“You know where to find me,” Meriax said, as the gatekeeper admitted Jyra into the passage.
*
“She told you all that?” Kip asked. “How? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jyra said. “I think she realized I found out what I needed to know, at least as far as she can tell. Maybe she saw it as her last chance to earn her freedom.”
“In that position, I’d feel desperate too,” Kip said. “You’re sure she wasn’t lying?”
“She told me so little, there wasn’t enough substance to conceal a lie.”
It was the next afternoon after Jyra’s meeting with Meriax. Kip invited Jyra to review the fake intelligence reports he composed.
“These look promising,” Jyra said. “They need to be printed on official letterhead, though.”
“Not one of the people I trust has access to the communication hub,” Kip said.
“Commander Hayes,” Jyra said. “She should be able to help us.”
“Can she be trusted?” Kip said.
“She can.”
“I worry about involving people in higher ranks,” Kip said. “If they disapprove, this ends immediately.”
His eyes met her steady gaze and he gave a small nod of understanding.
“You spoke for her and that’s good enough for me,” Kip said briskly, running a hand through his hair.
Jyra heard his words, but had to ignore a pang of uneasiness. She wondered if they even had the resources–bodies and ships–to accomplish the mission.
“The donors don’t have any other intel sources besides the briefs, do they?” she asked.
Kip shrugged.
“I’ll see if Hayes knows,” Jyra said. “If they do, this has been a waste of time.”
“Or it will contradict their alternative reports and confuse them.”
“It depends on the reliability of those sources,” Jyra said. Kip glanced at his work and couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“We need to be smarter about our tactics,” he said.
“Just smarter than the donors,” Jyra said.
*
Commander Hayes held her post at the control center the next morning. Jyra entered, feeling much sleepier and nervous than usual. Her mind pushed slumber aside throughout the night, favoring imagined conversations with Hayes. Despite her grogginess, Jyra remembered to wear her medal.
“What can I do for you?” Hayes asked, both of her large hands placed on her desk while she hunched toward a monitor, her eyes never straying from the screen.
“I need a quick word,” Jyra said. “In private.”
“One moment,” Hayes said. “The patrol pattern is about to loop again.”
Jyra swallowed hard and couldn’t tell if she felt relief or despair when Hayes stood. They stepped outside of central command and faced each other in the entryway.
“How can I help?” Hayes asked, Jyra could hardly bring herself to make eye contact, but she forced herself to do it.
“Do you know if the donors receive any intelligence from beyond the base besides our intel briefs?” An expression crossed Hayes’ face Jyra hadn’t yet seen, even during the bunker bombing in the north. Her mouth twisted wryly for a moment and her eyes narrowed.
“Not that I know of,” she said.
“Do you have access to the intel brief printing office?” Jyra asked, hoping to get as many questions answered without needing to reveal her motives, but Hayes had enough.
“I do, but why are you asking?”
“The donors are trying to organize their own missions to rescue their family members from the hospitals,” Jyra said.
“Sounds ambitious,” Hayes said.
“They’ll risk themselves, not to mention our ships to launch such a campaign,” Jyra said.
“What is this all about?” Hayes said. The exasperation in her voice told Jyra she needed to present her conclusion in due course.
“To prevent such a risk, I want to feed the donors fake intel reports,” Jyra said.
“Why not just cut them off from the real ones?”
“To avoid backlash,” Jyra said. “At least one woman keeps track of when new reports come in. Better give the donors something than nothing at all.”
“How long will you feed them the fakes?” Hayes said. Jyra shrugged.
“As long as needed to curtail a donor mission.”
“I think this sort of mission is something they might plan for a very long time,” Hayes said, folding her long fingers together in front of her navel. “Why the rush?”
Jyra had seen this question coming, but hearing it from Hayes’ mouth paralyzed her own. Kip’s skepticism intruded in her mind. What if Meriax had been lying?
“I don’t think the donors are who they claim to be, certainly not all of them,” Jyra began.
“What do you mean?” Hayes asked with a note of impatience.
“I think some of donors are acting as spies for the Allied Hospitals,” Jyra said. “I know it seems bizarre, but they clearly have their own agenda and are using resources from the resistance to fulfill their desires.”
“I’m not sure what to say,” Hayes said after a brief pause, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Do you have proof to support your claim?”
“I know where to get it,” Jyra said.
“You’ll need a mission arranged to find such proof, I assume?”
“I will,” Jyra said. “I also need the intake files for each of the donors in the base.”
Hayes frowned.
“Their names at least,” Jyra clarified.
“I might be able to get that information,” Hayes said. “And you’ve discovered what you know by talking to the prisoner we discussed earlier?”
Jyra felt her courage falter. She couldn’t spin the story any other way.
“Meriax is my source,” Jyra said. She could no longer speak while simultaneously maintaining eye contact.
Hayes squared her shoulders. Jyra could tell she was thinking quickly.
“I’ll get you the letterhead and see what I can do about a donor list,” Hayes said, making no effort to hide an exasperated sigh. “However, I’m putting a condition on my approval. You are trusting the word of a prisoner. If everyone on your mission dies because of her lie, she deserves the same fate. Meriax must be part of your campaign.”
“Understood.”
Hayes seized the door handle to reenter central command.
“Things have changed,” she said. “The unity in this base fractured. I hope you can restore some order. You’ve proven yourself before–” she pointed to the medal on Jyra’s lapel–“with luck you can do it again.”
Hayes disappeared through the door, leaving Jyra with her doubts. The parallels of failure between this resistance and the first grew stronger, but at least Jyra had more support this time.
*
The hammers of the metal crusher shook the walls and the floor. Jyra pressed her palms against her ears. Stout benches full of ship parts and machinery filled the salvage hall. The workers shuffled around their workstations wearing gloves, heavy boots, and grubby overalls. The hoist crew on the other end of the hall continuously fed the crusher a diet of grease and steel. Jyra waited just inside the door until someone approached. Kip pulled off his gloves and helmet, reminding Jyra of the first time she saw him. He gestured toward the hallway and they stepped into the cooler and quieter passage.
“How’s Serana?” Kip asked, looking at the floor as he scratched the back of his scalp.
“Still out,” Jyra said. “I saw her this morning.”
“Now you get to see where I spend my days,” Kip said, keeping his head down.
“At least we’re working toward something better,” Jyra said. “I spoke to Hayes two days ago.”
“What did she say?” Kip asked.
“She’s on board as much as she can be,” Jyra said. A particularly loud screech of metal made the window in the door rattle.
“How did you wind up down here?” she said. “It was after Serana left? Can’t you talk to her father?”
“He no longer accepts visitors,” Kip said.
“Why not?”
Kip leaned against the wall, his shoulders hunched as he pressed his back into the packed soil.
“Security risk,” Kip said. “According to my people.”
“Can I meet them?” Jyra asked.
Kip glanced at her, a skeptical expression twitching from chin to forehead.
“I’d like to know who they are, especially since they’ll be the main group on the mission. Meriax has to come, too.”
“Why?”
“Hayes ordered it,” Jyra said. “She wouldn’t support us otherwise.”
Kip shrugged.
“I’ve been trying to keep you two isolated,” he said after a moment.
“I wasn’t aware,” Jyra said. “As far as I knew, I could see Hayes whenever I wanted.”
“Not her,” Kip said, practically speaking into his chest. “I meant keeping you separated from my people.”
Jyra placed a hand on his shoulder and Kip stared at her. Rings of black surrounded his eyes and a crop of scrubby whiskers covered his cheeks. Jyra hardly recognized him and his appearance erased their plans from her mind.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Kip turned away and gently struck the wall with his fist.
“What am I supposed to do?” he said. “I’m trapped down here trying to get through each day. I work with you and my people when I can without raising suspicion, but it’s hard. I feel like I’m being watched all the time, and I want to destroy whoever is monitoring me. That’s the goal.”
“You think if you try to switch to some other job, it will somehow incriminate you?” Jyra asked.
Kip nodded.
“They sent me down here because I couldn’t work the old salvage line,” Kip said. “We were just scrapping out old ships but I saw burned bodies in every one. All of them had Graze’s face. Even in the vision, the flesh was so distorted by flame it would be impossible to identify anyone, but every time, I knew it was Graze. I’ve seen my share of carnage, but that damn spy is the one haunting me.”
“I see him tumbling out of the hangar in my head over and over,” Jyra said. “I can’t explain the cause anymore than I can instruct you how to feel better. But you’re a strong person and we’ll get through this. As far as being watched, we should establish a meeting place outside the base if we have to evacuate.”
“Under the hangar platform,” Kip said.
“Where I killed Graze?” Jyra said and Kip nodded.
“There’s a ladder that drops to the boulders,” he said. “Next to a ship, it’s the quickest way out of the base.”
“Deal,” Jyra said. “I need to see Dania to fill her in on the latest. Will I be able to meet your people soon?”
“I’ll arrange it,” Kip said. Jyra squeezed his shoulder.
“Stay strong and take care of yourself.”
*
Jyra knocked on Dania’s door. She heard shuffling inside and after a short delay, Dania appeared, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jyra apologized.
“It’s fine,” Dania said. “I should have told you before I slept, but I was exhausted. I spent hours searching the system and I found four ships in the yard outside the base that aren’t accounted for. If we’re lucky, we should be able to fly low enough to dodge traffic control.”
“That sounds perfect,” Jyra said. “I just spoke with Kip. Hopefully I’ll meet the crew he’s got scattered through the base. Apparently, Jarrow isn’t seeing visitors anymore. It’s too dangerous. We also have Hayes digging up all the donor names and she’s getting blank letterhead for fake intelligence reports.”
“Excellent,” Dania said, failing to stifle a yawn.
“Get some sleep,” Jyra sighed. “I should do the same.”
“Thanks for the update,” Dania said, closing her door.
Jyra set off for her quarters. She had ships, she would soon have enough people for the mission, as well as the names she needed to match in the database. Despite the progress, all she could think of was Meriax. It was tempting to offer her freedom if she cooperated, but Jyra didn’t want to reveal any sense of urgency. She had maintained an attitude of casual indifference in Meriax’s presence and dropping the act now would give the prisoner the advantage.
Jyra rounded the last corner of the passage before reaching her room. Though usually empty, she saw someone hurrying down the corridor at her. They met outside her door.
“The intake log,” Hayes said, through her flushed face and heavy breathing. She must have run all the way here.
“What about it?” Jyra asked, her voice going hollow.
“Someone tampered with it,” Hayes said, leaning against the wall. “Entire sections are redacted.”
“They’re onto us,” Jyra said, realizing her voice dropped to a whisper. She invited Hayes into her room, hoping the commander wouldn’t mind the mess.
“We need to move much faster now,” Jyra said. “Do you have any other information?”
“I do not,” Hayes said. “And there’s no time to vet my list of mission candidates.”
“I didn’t know we vetted them,” Jyra said.
“We do now,” Hayes said. “Do you have enough people?”
Jyra thought of Kip. Regardless of his wishes, she would be meeting his group much sooner than anticipated. She nodded.
“How much time do we have?” Jyra asked.
“No idea,” Hayes said. “I can double the rounds of security patrols, but there are still other exits the donors could use.
“Cover as many as you can,” Jyra said. “I need to rest for a couple hours before I can begin this mission.”
“You’re going to sleep?” Hayes asked.
“It won’t do to infiltrate enemy compounds when one is tired,” Jyra said. “Meet back here in four hours and we’ll go from there. I’ll need to retrieve Meriax from her cell.”
Hayes gripped Jyra’s hand for a moment before she slipped through the door.
Jyra sat on her mattress, exhausted but never more awake.
Despite the adrenaline, Jyra lay back on her pillow and kicked her boots loose. She heard them clump to a heap on the floor. She pushed herself up to turn off the lights, but a grunt of pain from the corridor diverted her attention. Jyra had no time to react before the door burst open and a figure leapt at her, closing fingers around her neck.