Nyxia uprising, p.12
Nyxia Uprising, page 12
“I believe this is a tactical error,” he says. “But I admire you for it all the same.”
He leads us back down the ramp.
Bilal answers, “We’ll move faster without this burden on our shoulders.”
I spy a smile on Speaker’s face. Even he isn’t immune to Bilal’s charms. Azima pats Bilal on the shoulder as we press back into the open field. Roathy just shakes his head, like he’s been putting up with this kind of thing ever since the two of them landed in prison together. It’s impossible to be mad at the kid for longer than a few seconds, though.
“Damn, Bilal.” I wrap an arm around him. “Didn’t realize how much I missed you, man.”
As he grins back, a bullet hisses overhead.
Our whole group ducks instinctively. Nyxian shields bloom out. Bilal stumbles into no-man’s-land, and I barely manage to pull him back to safety as another shot sounds. It takes a second to figure out that Greenlaw is the one firing, and another two seconds to find her target.
About ten meters to the left of the ship’s gaping entrance, right behind us, a Babel marine collapses to the ground. His gun falls from an outstretched hand. I wonder if he was aiming it at us. I wonder how many seconds we had until he opened fire. We watch as he takes his last breath. Greenlaw’s shots struck true.
Azima raises her spear, eyes on the entrance. “Are they all waking up?”
“No,” Roathy replies. “He was awake. The captain’s chair. I thought that was odd. I was trying to figure out why it was there. Babel doesn’t do anything just for looks. This must have been the guy in charge of the ship. He couldn’t wake the rest of them up.”
Speaker looks to Bilal. “Do you still want to leave them alive?”
My friend nods. “Isn’t one man dead more than enough?”
“Your choice.” Speaker signals for Greenlaw to join us. After a second, she stands and starts packing up her weapon. “Come. There is still a long way to go.”
And just like that, our march continues. Bilal’s quiet for a while, but eventually Greenlaw coaxes him into conversation. They trade questions about human and Imago hobbies for a while.
I’m half listening to their chatter when I catch the faintest rumble in the distance. Bilal doesn’t notice. Azima strides at the front of the group, unaware. But Roathy glances up like a startled rabbit. He immediately catches my eye. We both look in Speaker’s direction.
The Imago doesn’t say a word. He keeps marching, eyes fixed on what is ahead of us. The rumble leaves as quickly as it came. My eyes flick to Speaker’s utility belt. One of the devices is gone.
Roathy and I lock eyes. There’s a silent agreement there. We will not say anything to Bilal. Clearly, Roathy sees Bilal the way that I do now. Someone worthy of his protection.
Beneath that first agreement, there’s a second one: it’s easier to march forward without having to look over one shoulder. Roathy and I have always been cut from the same cloth. The two of us understand Speaker’s decision, messed up as it might be. He’s right.
This is war.
I fix my eyes on the approaching hills and keep marching.
For the first time on Magnia, we see something with our own eyes before we see it on a readout. Launch Bay 2 does not come up on any scans. According to Speaker, it won’t register on any Babel satellites either. Jacquelyn’s teams built the bases into the natural terrain. They also designed everything with as much stealth technology as they could come up with. It shows.
Launch Bay 2 nestles flawlessly into a fractured ravine. Two rows of waiting ships run the length of the opening, with just enough space for all the flanking catwalks that connect the structure. Not a single ship peeks out above the natural cliffs. The visible tops are painted to match the surrounding terrain too. Even if Babel combed the area with satellites, they’d never see these. Our crew pauses along a looming cliff to admire the scene.
This is our way home.
And then light pulses. All of us drop to the ground as the entire base hums to life. Blue light scales the sides of the standing ships. It hums in the pitted circles beneath them too.
“Someone is here,” Speaker hisses. “Weapons out.”
The entire ravine is starting to glow. My mind leaps to the obvious guess: slings. If they’ve already reached the base, we’re screwed.
“Hey,” a voice calls from behind. It’s a voice I’d know anywhere. “You ever gonna show up before me to anything? Punctuality is a virtue, you know.”
Morning strides up the slight rise with the world’s biggest grin on her face. Feoria and Jacquelyn are there too, looking a little more subdued. I barely manage to get my arms out in time for the bone-crushing hug Morning delivers.
She whispers into my chest, “Meet you in the middle.”
“We made it,” I whisper back, and I almost can’t believe the words. “We’re going home.”
She unhooks herself from me long enough to see we brought back a few rescues. Her face lights up at the sight of Bilal. She knows who he was to me, and how hard the thought of his death really hit. I can see the understanding and the weight of all of that in her expression as she rushes forward to give him a hug. “Bilal! I thought you were dead!”
He hugs her back and smiles. “In this, I am happy to disappoint.”
She smiles before glancing Roathy’s way. “And look: another dead man walks among us.”
He gives his wicked grin. “Isadora?”
“Is a real piece of work,” Morning throws back. “But she’s down below. She’s fine. The baby’s fine too. Come on. We can all head down together.”
It’s like letting out a breath I’ve been holding for weeks. She’s safe. We’re safe. The Imago are busy preparing the base, following Jacquelyn’s guidelines. Morning’s voice is quiet as she recaps their journey. I can’t help grinding my teeth together as she describes the carnage of an abandoned battlefield and the creatures that hunted them the same night. Activity around Launch Bay 2 is too chaotic to make a proper count, but I haven’t forgotten that only sixty people will launch into space. Our crew is thirteen deep. Sixteen if the Imago are counting the Genesis 13 prisoners.
A roar of celebration greets us in the loading bay. The recovery of Bilal and Roathy acts like a new sun. It’s the start of a brighter future that we can all rally around. We’re not just going home. We’re going to go home together. There’s more to do. Necessary tasks and difficult fights. But for the first time in weeks, anything feels possible.
Off in a corner, Roathy and Isadora reunite. Ida watches the scene with a half smile on her face. I’m so used to seeing the two of them as a threat that it’s hard to really grasp this side of them. Roathy is down on one knee. Isadora has his head pressed to her stomach so he can listen for kicks or heartbeats or both. After all we’ve been through, it’s strange to celebrate them. But there’s something right about it too. It’s almost like we’ve reversed Babel’s curse on us.
Back in our group, Katsu has lifted Bilal into the air and is spinning him around. Azima grins wildly, and Jazzy’s clucking like a mother hen, warning them to be more careful. Morning nudges my shoulder, and I feel like my face is going to break from smiling so much.
“Let’s go home.”
“Not before you take me on that date,” she says with a grin.
I nod through the glass. The lights of the nearest ship flicker. I want to keep smiling and laughing, but the hard conversations need to happen too. “What are the numbers?”
That wipes the grin off her face. I hate myself for taking these brief joys from her, but neither of us has ever danced around the truth. She has me follow her off to one side.
“We lost half of the Remnant,” she says. “There are twenty-seven of them left. Each one gets a seat. Bilal and Roathy will be added to our count automatically. So that’s forty seats accounted for and only twenty seats left for the rest.”
“Better numbers than we originally planned on.”
Morning sighs. “You’re right. I should be thankful, but it doesn’t make things much easier. Thirty-eight other Imago survived the march. Only two of the three Genesis 13 survivors made it.”
My heart sinks. “Who’d we lose?”
“Victoria. She—” Morning shakes her head. “So there are forty other survivors, but only twenty seats. Feoria decided to give everyone a chance. She’s running it like a lottery.”
“Damn.”
“Right? And it’s not exactly something we can argue. Beatty and Gio are lucky they’re even being included. I really like Gio. He gets what our group is all about. Beatty’s an ass, but still, he signed up to come here for the same reasons we did. I don’t want to leave them behind.”
My eyes flick back across the room. The two of them are sitting in their own corner playing a game of cards. Every now and again they side-eye our little reunion. Every day I find myself living more and more in the gray. Nothing is easy. Nothing is black-and-white. I feel for the two of them. They lost their whole family when they landed. All the pipe dreams about going home richer than kings have vanished. And they took from us too. Omar and Jaime are dead.
Nothing is easy.
“It sounds like that’s the best we can do.”
Morning nods. “I’m starting to hate the word best. On the ship, best meant I was on top of a scoreboard. Down here, best is nothing but bare-bones victories and silver linings. It sucks. Okay. I’m going to go talk with Jackie about Bilal and Roathy. I want to make sure they’re counted right.”
A thought hits me. “Wait. Don’t tell Bilal.”
She frowns. “Tell him what?”
“Anything. Just tell him he’s launching up into space. Don’t mention the lottery and all of that.” I’m still thinking about the frozen marines he tried so desperately to spare. “If he knows we’re going to strand people down here, he’ll never go.”
She offers a tight nod. “Got it. Be back in a little.”
I turn back to our crew. Everyone’s laughing it up, except for Alex. I spy him standing off to one side, eyes fixed on the waiting ships. I cut across the room and join him. It’s quite a view.
“Ready?” I ask.
He tries to smile, but the look doesn’t reach his eyes. “Anton’s up there.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
Alex nods. “I’d know if something happened. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I know he’s alive. But it’s like in all the stories, you know? Bad stuff always happens at the very last second.”
“Those are stories. This is Anton we’re talking about. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was running the whole ship already. Wouldn’t be surprised at all.”
Alex smirks. “That’s exactly what has me worried. Anton doesn’t do subtle.”
The entrance opens again. Jacquelyn and Morning enter. There’s a flush of red coloring Morning’s neck. I know that look by now. She was getting heated about something. All our conversations die away as Jacquelyn waves us forward.
At the center of the room, she accesses a waiting console.
“Gather around. I want to run you through a quick tutorial.”
We circle up as the holographic images hum to life. A scaled version of the spaceships outside appears in the air, reduced down to about the size of a football.
“Every single one of these ships operates the same way. They are incredibly limited in function, which was kind of the point. Here’s a glance at the cockpit.”
She brings up a new image. Inside the ship, there are two seats facing each other. Simple is definitely the right word. There’s a single console between the two seats and touchscreens facing each astronaut. Slit windows provide diagonal glimpses outside the ship, but there aren’t many other bells and whistles that I can see.
“Launch is controlled by the station,” she explains. “All you do is lock in and hold on tight. Once you’re beyond the atmosphere, the ship’s internal systems do the work. We’ve explained before that every ship is going to automatically attract to the largest deposits of nyxia they can find. That means Babel’s ships. There is a way to override the ship’s controls and fly manually, but we strongly discourage that. You are not trained pilots. Our tech is smarter than you. Let it work.
“The one thing you do control is the air lock mechanism. Once your ship finds the right target, it will seek that target out. Every ship is designed to latch and suction. Initial punctures will seal automatically. You have to activate the boring drill mechanism, though. It will carve a doorway into the metal and function as an air lock. We’re giving you control of that function because we don’t want the ship to automatically carve a path into enemy territory. If you suspect Babel troops are waiting outside the door, you can try and wait them out. That decision has its own risks.”
We’re all focused and listening. It’s no surprise when Parvin asks the first question.
“So when we dock, what then? What is your plan once everyone is on board?”
Jacquelyn sighs. “We have very little information about the ships. One of our own was intentionally captured by Babel before you came.” Her eyes flick briefly my way. “Our last report was not promising. I’m not sure we can count on Erone as a rallying point. What of your man?”
“Anton is up there,” Morning answers. “But we haven’t heard anything.”
Jacquelyn nods. “So it goes. We have little information to go on. I think our general goal is to attach the escape pods, infiltrate Babel ships that we suspect will mostly be empty, and commandeer every section. Once we’ve neutralized the station, we’ll discuss our options for returning to Earth.”
“When do we launch?” Parvin asks.
“Now.”
A current of surprise runs back through our ranks.
“I thought you were coordinating a specific date with the other launch stations,” Parvin says. “Wasn’t that the whole point? Launch all at once so Babel doesn’t have time to react?”
“Our estimates of the time of the collision are just that—estimates. It would be best to launch as soon as possible.” Jacquelyn hesitates. “And our scans show that Launch Bay 3 is active. All the ships have launched.”
“So Babel knows?” Parvin asks. “Fantastic.”
“Our people are desperate. Feoria chose to believe the best of them. The battlefield we saw to the north…” She shakes her head sadly. “I hope you understand how heartbreaking it is. We expected some rebellion, but thousands have died. Thousands will die. The people of the Fourth Ring gave in to the same desperation. Can you blame them? They’re scared. We all are.”
Parvin nods. “So we launch now?”
“In the next few hours,” Jacquelyn confirms. “Morning has promised to arrange seating preferences. Once I have that list, I’ll assign each pair to a specific ship. Beatty and Gio, I need you two to come with me, please.”
There’s an ominous silence as the Genesis 13 survivors separate from our group. I watch them both go, and all I can do is hope that they’re chosen. I’m not sure what they deserve, but no one should die this far from home, on a planet they never really knew. Morning glances my way, and there’s even more heartbreak in the look she gives me. It’s like no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, someone always loses. It makes it that much harder to celebrate the victories.
And this is a victory.
We’re going home.
As our crew crowds the windows and admires the ships that will take us into space, Morning and I stand back like proud parents, too busy counting the costs to see how bright a day it is.
An hour later and our whole crew waits in pairs.
Noor and Parvin will launch together. Azima tracked down Beckway and convinced him to launch with her. That one raises a few eyebrows. Alex snags a spot with Katsu, claiming if things go wrong, at least he’ll die laughing. As the others discuss the launch, Morning pretends to adjust her makeup in the reflective glass. When Holly asks what she’s doing, she just says she’s getting ready for a hot date. I roll my eyes, but can’t help throwing her a grin that would make Pops proud.
Roathy and Isadora stand together. I realize their ship will be the only one that launches three people into the sky. Their reunion left Ida as the odd one out until Holly swooped in and threw an arm around the girl’s shoulder. The final pairing is Bilal and Jazzy.
My stomach tosses a little at the idea of leaving his side. I know it’s a necessity, but I’ve only had him back for a few days now. Losing him again would wreck me. Bilal looks unconcerned. It takes him and Jazzy about thirty seconds to catch up, all smiles. I realize I’ve given fear too much power. I want to carve out the space it’s claimed in my heart, replace it with hope.
Jacquelyn returns. Speaker and Feoria follow in her wake. I’m a little surprised to see the two of them holding hands. “Launch stations are active. Final checks are complete. We have specialized exosuits for everyone. Take a second to get dressed before going out to your stations.”
Everyone slips over to the far wall. The suits hang there. Generic sizes that stretch or shrink depending on what we need. I take advantage of the distraction and cross over to Speaker.
“Thanks, Speak. For everything. You were brilliant from jump.”
He smiles. “From jump?”
“From the beginning. Thank you for being so welcoming to us.”
“It was my duty,” he says. “But it was also my honor. Before we part ways, I wanted to apologize. I have felt guilty over the past few weeks. I do not feel as guilty now that we have successfully arrived, but it is still weighing on my conscience. I would free myself of the burden. Your name? It was not chosen by Parvin. I might have influenced the results.”
I stare at him. “What? There’s no way, man. I put my name in the hat myself. It never left Parvin’s hand. You couldn’t have influenced it. There wasn’t time.”
