Brightly Burning

by Alexa Donne

  “She’s only a child, Mr. Mason. You’ve kept your job by the skin of your teeth and achieved your purge of many hundreds. Leave her be.”

  “No,” he said, simple as that. I felt the heat of the two security guards at my side, then the icy grip of a handcuff as it encircled my wrist. They tore me away from Jon, wrenching my arms behind my back to complete the metal link. Everything progressed in slow motion. Mason slunk over, and with a snap of his fingers, they began to haul me away. I dragged my feet to slow their progress back to their shuttle, until the bigger of the two security guards hauled me up in her arms like a baby. The last thing I saw before they threw me inside their transport was Jon whispering furiously to his uncle.

  And that was it. The last I’d ever see of them. Heavy tears trailed down my cheeks as they strapped me into my chair. My wrists dug painfully into the small of my back, arm sockets aching from the strain. I willed my breath steady, my tears to slow and dry. I would not offer them anything else of myself. I waited for the engines to start, determined to depart with dignity.

  We sat for five minutes before I sensed something was wrong.

  “Frex you, Karlson!” I heard Mason shout from the cockpit. Then a quieter but no less aggressive, “Yes, of course I want somewhere to keep her while you frexing fix it. Better fix it quickly or I’ll bring you up on charges of obstruction. And see to it that I have sufficiently fine quarters to sleep in.”

  “What’s happening?” I dared ask the male security guard, who came back to unstrap me. He made reluctant eye contact, flinching. I couldn’t miss the pity in his expression.

  “Power’s gone out in the airlocks, so we can’t leave yet.”

  “Frex this trash bucket and its frexing malfunctions.” Mason tore through the hold, past me, and down the stairs.

  As the guard hauled me back into the dark transport bay and frogmarched me past the captain, his expression unreadable behind his flashlight beam, hope sparked in my stomach. Perhaps my friends had bought me time.

  It came as some surprise that the Stalwart had a brig on board. By the looks of it, she hadn’t seen company in many decades. The metal bled with water damage, and the door creaked out a protest as the male guard pried it open. Most antiquated of all, it locked with a physical key! No way my friends could hack their way in and get me out. I watched from my perch on a rusted metal bed as he pocketed it and took a seat across from me for first watch.

  “Aren’t you tired?” I asked. He glared.

  “We’re taking it in shifts.”

  “What’s your name?”

  More glaring. But he acquiesced. “Callum. Now be quiet.”

  “I’m Stella. I’m eighteen.” I knew I was being manipulative, trying to appeal to his humanity. But fear rendered me shameless.

  “Quiet.” He turned away and would not look at me.

  Silence became my companion over the next hours. I could not sleep on the moldy thing they called a mattress; I was too keyed up to sleep, even if it had been in pristine condition. The female guard came to relieve Callum, and I asked the time. They were on six-hour shifts. He handed off the key, and as she sat down, I caught a glimpse of a gun at her waist. It shot holes through the hope I’d been clinging to. If my friends attempted rescue, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  If they attempted rescue.

  I was starting to feel stupid at the hope of it. That my friends in engineering had purposely shut power to the transport bay to buy me time. Time for what? They couldn’t overpower the guard without someone getting hurt, and I couldn’t bear anyone dying on my behalf. The lights flickered off, the guard’s curse piercing the darkness. Another blackout to prove the happenstance of the first. The flicker of hope died out, and my body forced sleep upon me.

  I awoke to light and the return of Callum. At least twelve hours gone, then.

  “They still haven’t fixed the landing bay?”

  “Apparently not.”

  At least he answered me.

  “It’s good you’re up.” He moved to the door, picking up an ancient comms phone and speaking into it. “Send them down.” He turned to me, returning to his chair. “Your captain lobbied on your behalf for a last kindness, given the delay.”

  Moments later, I understood the nature of this kindness. My friends had come to say goodbye. Jatinder, Navid, Joy, George, Jon, each one approached my cell in turn, apologies for my situation and regrets tumbling past their lips. I held it together for the first three, but I lost it with George, who started crying immediately, setting me off.

  “I’m so mad at you, Stel. Doing the right thing and saving everyone at your own expense. I only just got you back.”

  “I didn’t save everyone.” I licked salty moisture from my lips.

  “Damn near enough. Why did you have to go off-ship like that? You should have stayed here with me.”

  “I had to go,” I said. “It’s hard to explain . . .”

  “Because you’ve been keeping things from me.”

  Was he really choosing now to fight with me?

  “And it’s my fault,” he quickly said, cutting me off in my anger. “I pulled away. Got too wrapped up in my own stuff. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, I’m glad you’re happy. With Joy. Don’t let go of that. Love is—” I cut myself off. There was nowhere to go that wouldn’t feel saccharine and wholly unlike me. “I went because I had to find out what happened to Hugo. Fairfax. I love him.”

  And now I’d die for it. I choked on anguish, the tears welling up fresh.

  “We’ll tell the children you went down to Earth, so they don’t know what happened,” he said, grasping at my fingers through the bars. “I love you, Stella.”

  I nodded, pushing him away. “I love you, too. Empire orphans forever.”

  “Empire orphans forever.”

  And then he was gone. Jon handed me a handkerchief through the bars, a move so practical that I had to laugh.

  “Thank you,” I said, dabbing at my cheeks.

  “I’ll want that back, you know,” he said.

  “You’re terrible at goodbyes.”

  “Yep. I’m too angry about all of this to be sentimental. You’ll thank me later for not weighing you down with another emotional goodbye. See? You’ve already stopped crying.”

  “Would that there weren’t bars between us right now. I’d hit you,” I managed with a laugh. “But seriously,” I brought my voice low, “give me a proper goodbye. One last moment of honesty. No jokes.”

  He met me close to the bars, kissing my fingers that gripped tight to the metal.

  “You are extraordinary, Stella. We won’t let them win. Remember that.”

  “Will you look for him? Down there? For me?”

  “I will. Now dry your eyes.” He left me wholly unsatisfied, waving on his way out the door.

  “You should have ended with the ginger,” Callum said. I glared at him until he turned away.

  The guard shift changed once more, putting us at eighteen hours. I couldn’t sleep. I kept staring at the door, expecting Mason to storm in at any minute, announcing that the airlock was fixed and we would be departing shortly. With each minute and hour that passed by, my insides knotted tighter. I blinked back images of Hugo, imagined so vividly that he was present, that I could hear his voice in my ear, whispering that he loved me.

  I shook away the delusion, closing my eyes, thankful for the black. I could not manage any more of Hugo’s face.

  I jarred awake at a series of sharp snaps in my ear, blinking my eyes into focus to find the female guard hovering close. It was dark again, like there’d been another power cut.

  “Get up. We have to go. Now.”

  She hauled me up by my arms, pulling me out of my cell. My body was seized with fear; I stumbled, but her firm grip of my arm kept me upright.

  “Follow me closely, and keep up the pace,” she said, creeping along the pitch-black corridor toward the stairs.

  “Aren’t you going to handcuff me
?”

  She stopped at the juncture between two passageways, shaking her head. “That’ll slow us down. You’re being rescued, if that’s not clear.”

  My stomach swooped with tentative elation. “You’re letting me go?” She wasn’t even the nice guard. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Do you need to know my name for me to rescue you? Because we’re wasting time.”

  “No, sorry, I—​I’m just in shock.” I hurried along after her, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “It’s Meredith,” she said as we arrived breathless at the loading bay a few minutes later. All primary lighting was off, but a collection of emergency lamps lit the space in an eerie glow. I could see figures hustling bags into the Ingram’s hold. Two of them rushed up to us, voices hushed.

  “Oh, thank God, Stel.” George engulfed me in a hug, and as soon as he released me, I smacked him in the shoulder.

  “You let me blubber like that when you knew I was being rescued!”

  “I didn’t know,” George said. “Jon only just told me.”

  “I wasn’t sure it was going to work out,” Jon said, nodding at Meredith. “Though I owe George here for tipping me off that Meredith looked familiar, from the orphan transport. Gave me an idea.”

  “Thanks for the spot,” Meredith said. “And frex Mason.” She jogged off to the Ingram.

  “What is going on?” I rounded on Jon.

  “We don’t have much time. We’re faking another blackout so Mason doesn’t suspect.” He grabbed me by the arm and steered me toward the ship. “I did what I could to move up the timeline, gathering a landing party. I managed to fill almost every seat. We’re leaving for Earth, now. It’s the only way to save you.”

  “Do we even have a pilot? I told Sergei forty-eight hours, not twenty-four. He won’t know—”

  “I got ahold of him,” Jon interrupted. “He’s here. And he brought some surprises for you. But that comes later. We have to get you on board.”

  Elation coursed through me, making me bounce on my toes. Everything would be okay. I grabbed George by the hand, tugging him along, but he made himself an anchor, stopping me short.

  “I’m not going. I’m sorry.”

  “What do you mean? You have to go. We’re all going . . .” My voice sounded small, like a child’s.

  “I just can’t,” he said. “Joy doesn’t want to, and I love her. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I’m only here to make sure you’re all right.” He kissed me softly on the cheek. I was sure he came away with salt on his lips from my tears. “Jon told me you may be able to communicate with us up here. So we’ll talk. This isn’t goodbye. Not really.”

  “Stella, come on.” I felt myself being pulled away by Jon, but I didn’t want to go. I was frozen to the spot, feet holding fast, and my other arm fixed by the hand still grasping George’s.

  “Don’t forget me,” I said.

  “I won’t—”

  “STOP AT ONCE!”

  Mason’s rage filled the loading bay, the harsh backlight casting him in shadows like a hulking monster. Jon yanked my arm so hard now that he nearly wrenched it from its socket. I dropped George’s hand, stumbling back.

  “Stop NOW!” Mason screamed as he barreled toward me, coming into the light. “This is mutiny! You have all committed treason! And you—” He brandished a gun, pointing it straight at my chest. “You are not going anywhere. I am authorized to carry out your execution, and so I will.”

  Before I could register what the click I heard meant, George dove, and Jon pulled, and the shot rang out so loud and bright, I had to close my eyes, wincing against the ringing in my ears. I fell hard against the ground, shoulder and hip radiating sharp pain, George landing on top of me.

  “Stella, are you okay?” Jon rushed over, trying to help me stand.

  “I’m fine,” I said, checking my body for wounds and finding none. “George, are you—”

  He wasn’t. His blood seeped black onto the floor beneath us; I could feel its wetness soaking through my clothes. He groaned, but did not speak.

  “No, no, NO.” I gasped for breath, pressing futile hands to his midsection to stem the flow of blood. He was barely conscious. It was a bull’s-eye shot.

  “Stella, we have to go.” Jon tugged my arm, but I wrested it away. I had to help George. Seeing now that I was unharmed, Mason leveled his gun again.

  “Oh, no, you don’t—” Captain Karlson tackled Mason from the side, shouting at us to go.

  Frantically I scooted back, Jon pulling me to my feet. My sobs punctuated the pounding of my feet as we ran the short stretch to the Ingram’s open hold, Jon climbing up inside, reaching down for my hand, pulling me in. I landed in a heap on the floor, clinging to the grooves, filling them with tears, as Jon manually shut the door, calling on comms for Sergei to leave immediately. The engines sprang to life, and we pulled away, leaving my oldest and truest friend dead in our wake.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Stella?” Jon’s voice was soft but firm in my ear. “You have to get up. There’s only a few minutes to get strapped in for deorbit. You’ll die if you stay in here.”

  “George is dead.” I sobbed uselessly.

  “Most likely, yes, and I’m sorry. But we can’t lose you, too. Come on.” He hauled me onto my feet, leading me into a labyrinth of trunks and crates that had been stacked on top of one another and strapped to the floor. I felt a kick as we departed the Stalwart and made our way into open space.

  I tripped along behind Jon, until he led us to a room aft and below that looked as if its sole purpose was to provide safety and comfort during reentry. A few dozen faces swiveled at our entrance, peering up at us from high-backed seats into which they were strapped. I recognized a few from the Stalwart, but no one I was close to. Half the seats faced away, so I wouldn’t get a full sense of the party until we landed. Jon had mentioned Sergei brought surprises. But I was full up on those for the moment.

  Jon had to lead me like a child over to a free seat, and he took care to strap me in. We both ignored that he got blood on his hands and had to wipe it away on his trouser leg. He sat across from me, eyes creased with worry and fixed to my face. Sergei’s voice came over the address system, light and airy like we were taking off for a pleasure cruise, surreal in my grief.

  “Hello, everyone! Prepare for immediate departure, and strap in tight. From what I have learned about this model in the last five minutes, we are equipped with a parachute slowing system, so do not be alarmed should we experience a sudden jerk about halfway down.”

  A murmur of concern went through the room. “Don’t worry, everyone. Sergei is the best pilot I know,” Jon said, clearly the group leader and voice of authority. “Trust me, you want him piloting more than me.”

  “And if he hadn’t shown up?” a woman sitting next to Jon asked. I realized with a start that it was the security guard, Meredith.

  “You’d probably be praying harder,” Jon joked.

  And then, suddenly, I was pushed back in my seat by the gentle pressure of acceleration. My stomach did a little flip, and I had to shove down my grief and confusion, for there was only speed and pressure and the exhilarating terror of reentry. We moved faster, harder. We broke atmosphere, and the moment was reduced to nothing but heat, pressure, panic. The extreme forces of gravity pressed my body down and back simultaneously, while the friction produced as we hit drag and slowed boiled the air. I sucked in gulps of hot, soupy air and kept my eyes closed; I didn’t want to know if we encountered an issue, see the ship burn too bright, break apart. The darkness behind my eyelids provided my only solace, as the angry roar in my ears, the insistent weight of gravity, provided none.

  Someone was screaming. Someone else crying. I heard Jon spit a curse, and just like that, I was laughing. It was, frankly, rather hilarious that we were hurtling to Earth with nothing but a thin layer of metal and faith in some heat-shielding between us and certain death. Anyway, the laughing kept me from full-scale panic. />
  Suddenly we jerked backwards, then slowed. The parachute had deployed. The worst of it was over. All around me, I heard sighs of relief, and the screaming finally stopped. I cracked open one eye, then the other, and didn’t perceive anything on fire or ripped open. We seemed to coast forever; I tried counting the seconds, but the numbers crept too high, into more minutes than I wished to mark.

  The ground came quickly and hard, our harnesses holding us fast as we bounced once, twice, the whole ship shuddering as it dragged to a stop. Then we were pitched into darkness. The heavy breathing of those around me, coupled with the thudding of my own heart, played a soundtrack to the dark. The song lasted only about a minute. As the lights flickered back on, the low glow of emergency lights hummed in rhythm as we snapped out of our harnesses.

  We waited for the captain to check in on comms, but no such update came.

  “I’m going to go check on Sergei,” a familiar voice said, one row over. Xiao! I felt a flare of happiness, but tamped it down quickly. Now it was imperative to assess, and act. Reunion could come later. My grief would wait too.

  “Jon, can you go with her? I’ll get everyone out.” I gave Jon an assuring nod. I could handle myself now.

  We parted ways accordingly, a hundred weary souls following along behind me like ducklings. The Ingram’s emergency lights were red, casting everything in a sanguine tone, and as I keyed in the open-airlock command on the tab-screen console, it looked as if my hand was bathed in blood. Peering through the glass of the outer bay window, I watched the airlock doors open to reveal something I had never seen before: natural light. We’d gone from night up above to day down below.

  We walked gingerly through the hold, careful not to trip over the few boxes that had come untethered during the flight, and I tasted cold. I stood on the precipice of the open hold door and the outside, closing my eyes, breathing in deeply. I tried to put my finger on it, but it was indescribable. I didn’t yet have the vocabulary for this place.