by Lisa Jade
I spent the first day trying to find a way out. Despite knowing it was impossible, and that messing with the shuttle was a good way of getting myself killed, I’d still tried. I attempted to pry up the metallic panels to see if I could get into the wiring. The fact that I don’t know anything about electrics was unimportant. I had a theory, so I tried it. I also tried rerouting the shuttle – several times, in fact – to return to the Neptune. But the established route is the only one it will follow.
Day two was spent wondering what happened on the Neptune. The Captain clearly had at least one man in the wings, and he didn’t seem surprised that Andrew had remained loyal. When he’d taken those bullets from his own crew, he’d been instantly subdued. Like their actions had sapped his energy. What if we misread the signals? What if he had relaxed, not because he gave up, but because he knew that some amongst his crew would remain loyal to him?
Perhaps he knew how it would all play out.
My stomach churns as I wonder for the millionth time what he’ll do if he breaks free. Will there be enough crew members on his side to win back the ship, or will the combined passengers and Companions keep their new control? Will there be an all-out war? And what, for crying out loud, happened to Isaac after I was sent away? Would that bastard kill his own son? It’s an agonising question, and despite my best efforts, I simply don’t have the answer.
Day three and four have been spent watching the little hologram in the centre of the shuttle. It’s been the only way to subdue the feelings of helplessness. If I allow myself to start worrying too much, I fear I won’t be able to pull myself together enough to land this thing – if it’s even possible.
I don’t know what I plan to do once I return to Pyre. They’ll have every reason to think the cruise is going well. Once they realise who I am, once they figure out that I wasn’t supposed to be on board, what will they do to me? I’m sure there’s a lie somewhere, something I could say to convince them to allow me to return home. But I can’t think. Somehow, saving myself seems rather unimportant lately.
My body hits the floor with a jolt, and I realise I’ve slipped off the seat. Typical. Of course I ended up sitting on the floor again. It’s not like I spent six damn months like this before leaving home.
My eyes drop to the rivets in the metal floor, and I allow my mind to go blank.
I count to thirty-two before I snap out of it.
“Damnit!”
I slap at my face and release a frustrated growl. No. Stop it. Stop it!
“Get the fuck up,” I tell myself, “you are not doing this again.”
No more counting. No more sulking. I heave myself upright and yank at a lock of hair. The shiver of pain is wonderful; like waking up from a sleep that’s gone on just a touch too long. It sends energy flitting through me, reminding me that I’m not quite dead yet. I don’t have to slip into that numbness again.
I scramble with the controls for a moment, somehow finding the right button. A skylight opens above me, metal panels rolling down to reveal the glass. I gaze up at it, amazed by what I’m seeing.
The shuttle plummets through the cosmos, faster than anything I could imagine. It’s a wonder that I can’t feel it inside – though I’d imagine there’s some technology protecting me. Overhead are flashing lights, stars and planets and moons flashing by at a terrifying rate. They blur until they resemble strobes of light, each shape indistinguishable from the next.
Even so, it’s them. The stars that always motivated me.
I allow my eyes to slip closed and imagine I’m at the Drop-off, my hands clutched tightly around my makeshift telescope. I take a deep breath, and somehow I can smell the salt from the ocean, and the somewhat stale, lingering stench of fish from today’s haul. The level shifts a little under my feet, and I feel Pyre’s engines quivering beneath me. The girl I’m imagining resembles me. My hair, my face. But there’s an eerie innocence in her eyes I never noticed before. She has no idea what’s coming. I turn, and somehow the Quinn in my mind turns too, looking at the shadow that emerges from the bushes.
Fierce eyes glimmer through the darkness, framing a genuine smile.
“Quinn?” a voice asks, “is that you?”
My chest aches.
“Cherise.”
The whole scene plays out in front of me, and as I watch, I wonder why. Why am I thinking of her? Why has this months-old memory chosen to replay in my head? But I let it continue, because even though it’s in my head, she’s still breathing. Moving. Smiling.
And at the end of our meeting, when she glances my way, I know the words are coming.
“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
My eyes snap open. I stand frozen in the middle of the shuttle, an odd sense of peace falling over me. I place a hesitant hand on my chest.
The day Cherise died, I broke a little. I’ve spent so long avoiding thinking about it, afraid it might break me further. But to my surprise, it hasn’t. Remembering her didn’t kill me. Instead, I feel wistful. The memory of Cherise is like the memories of my mother – nostalgic and still a touch painful.
Cherise. Mom. Isaac. Luci. I’ve lost far too many people, and each time I allow that loss to fracture me. But not this time. This time I’ll grow through it. Become better.
An alarm starts blaring overhead, and I grit my teeth. I can do it.
A new set of controls appear in the middle of the shuttle, and a screen opens up before me. On it, I can see Earth. We’re flying towards it fast – too fast, I’m sure – and even in the moment it takes me to recognise the planet, we’re much, much closer.
I leap up to the controls and try to figure them out. There’s a lever, a number of buttons, a keypad… technology I now wish I had mastered during my time on the Neptune. None of it makes sense. So as the screen zooms in even further, finally revealing the Atlantic ocean, my stomach tightens.
That dot. It’s Pyre. Floating further North than before, just like I thought it would. There’s a small red circle on the screen, locked onto the centre of One. For a brief moment I feel relief – the shuttle will automatically land – but then a light flashes overhead. On the screen, in neon letters – BEGIN MANUAL BRAKING PROCEDURE.
“Shit!”
I scramble over the controls, trying desperately to locate something that might be a brake – but with every passing moment, I’m aware we’re getting closer. Much closer. Roaring surrounds the shuttle. Perhaps we’re breaking through the atmosphere. Maybe we’ll burn up before we reach Pyre. I just don’t know.
But one thing is clear. If the shuttle hits Pyre at this speed, we’ll blow right through it. The target is located in the middle of Pyre, near the Elevator shaft. It seems like a safe place to land. Not too near the edge, in a place where there aren’t many people. As long as the Elevator isn’t in use right now, I might be able to land without hurting anyone at all.
If I could just figure out the damn brake!
Looking over the controls one more time, I decide to hedge my bets. I take hold of the lever and pull it towards me – and instantly, it fights back. The screen wobbles in front of me.
MANUAL BRAKING IN PROGRESS.
I let out a sigh of relief, and immediately follow it up with a few choice words. We’re still going too fast. Pyre is far too close now, and the thought of colliding with it sends flitters of panic through me. I pull on the brake a little harder, hoping the shuttle knows what it’s doing. No braking system I could understand would stop a goddamn spaceship.
But it seems to be working. Our descent slows a little, reminding me of the time spent at the Stem with Isaac and Finn. I imagine downward jets slowing the shuttle’s fall, kicking up air around us. I try to convince myself that’s all this is; a new, larger scale Stem. A thrill. Just a harmless thrill.
But then my eyes snap open, and the shuttle collides with One. In an instant it’s blown through the Elevator shaft, splitting it open a little, and burst through the other side. Rubble fills the screen. The jolt pulls my hand
off the brake. I stagger upright and pull it again, putting every last ounce of strength into holding it back. Something tells me this isn’t a job for one person; there should be fifteen people in here, slowing this damn thing down. Maybe I can’t do it.
The shuttle pounds through Two, and this time I feel a yelp burst from my throat. That was easy – too easy. It cut through the Level as though it were butter. Too fast. Much too fast. At this rate, we’ll will blast through Four and fly into the ocean. This thing is airtight, sure… but I don’t fancy starving to death at the bottom of the ocean.
So I shift my weight and lean heavily on the brake, pushing it back until my arms ache and my back throbs and my fingers shake with the effort of it.
Another jolt. That was Three.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…!”
Finally, something shifts. We’re slowing. I glance at the screen. Four is laid out just below me, just as I remember it. The park. Main Street. The apartment block Alice once called home. And a series of grey, blocky houses. My chest tightens. Dad’s somewhere down there.
I pull the brake a little harder, and something jolts – but this time, we’re slow enough. It lands heavily and suddenly the shuttle is motionless, somehow lodged in the shaft but not breaking through. The screen shows nothing but blue ocean.
I release the brake and slump to the floor, my body quivering from the effort. Stress makes me feel suddenly light-headed, and as the adrenaline rush fades I collapse against the metallic floor, desperate to catch my breath.
The shuttle’s systems begin to turn off, lights and air and all the ancillary equipment that it now deems unnecessary. The door catch releases and it swings open – It takes a few seconds before I realise what I’m seeing.
Daylight. Earth daylight.
Right now, I should be angry. I should be thinking about the Neptune. I need to come up with a plan to rescue them, to help them win. There’s bound to be something – anything – that I can do.
But instead, I lie motionless on the floor of the shuttle, my mind lost to my imaginings. Because for the first time in months, my senses are alight with memories of home.
Salt from the sea. Fish from the carts being dragged over Main Street. Hints of sweat lingering in the air. Fresh air. Fresh goddamn air. How did I forget how amazing that was? I drink it in desperately, filling my lungs with the stuff.
Even from the ground, I have a good idea of what’s going on outside. I hear cries of shock and confusion from people who are no doubt gathering around the shuttle. They stand nearby, wondering aloud what it is and where it came from and why it’s here.
Strange. Was Four always so noisy?
There’s no more putting it off. Time to face the music. I have myself upright and step up to the doorway with shaking legs. If I step off this shuttle, I’ll be back home. After everything I’ve done, everything that’s happened. Suddenly, I’m gripped by all the fear I’ve been fighting to avoid. What if I have no family to go back to? What if I’m considered too odd, too dangerous to associate with? What if nobody listens to me about what happened?
But then another voice rings out, and though I can’t make out the words, I recognise the authoritative tone.
Dad.
I step out of the shuttle. Heads snap my way and the air is filled with gasps. I imagine it must be somewhat surreal to them, watching someone considered dead stepping out of an alien capsule. Several people grimace at the sight of me, their eyes taking in the blood soaking my clothes and the exposed Brand on my arm.
I don’t care. For once, what people think about me is the last thing on my mind.
My vision finally clears as I step out of the dust. Four is just as I left it, the same streets, the same buildings, the same… everything, right down to the clothes people wear. And the people – individuals I once resented are now wonderfully familiar sights.
Horrified stares transform into looks of intrigue as I come to a stop in the open. Something in my head tells me that I’m standing on Pyre, breathing Earth air – and that it should create some emotional reaction in me, but I hold back on my joy.
Nothing else matters. Not until I find the source of his voice.
“Step aside!” someone cries, “please, step…”
Dad bursts through the crowd in front of me, and his eyes widen.
“Quinn.”
His jaw drops open and he slaps both hands over his mouth, letting out a small squeak.
“D…”
The words die in my throat. It’s him. It’s really him. Suddenly I can’t bring myself to speak, to move, to do much of anything. All I can do is stand motionless in the open, eyes fixed on my father.
He takes a half-step back, and his eyes fill with tears.
“It’s you.”
He steps closer, reaching out a shaking hand and softly touching a lock of my hair. He toys with it for a moment, as though trying to figure out if it’s real – and when he decides it is, his lips turn upward.
“You came home.”
My resistance breaks and I embrace him, hugging him so tightly that I fear I might hurt him. A moment later, he returns the embrace. One hand locks around my back, the other entangled in my hair. I inhale deeply, and instantly my head is filled with the familiar, nostalgic scent of home. A scent that causes me both great happiness and incredible pain.
I can’t believe it. I missed him so much.
“H-how…?” he asks, his voice weak. I tighten my grip on him.
“It’s a really long story.”
My voice is frighteningly weak, betraying the exhaustion running through my body. Dad breaks the embrace for a moment, cupping my face in his hands. His dark eyes glisten with tears.
“You shouldn’t move so much. You’re hurt.”
“I’m okay. It’s not what it looks like.”
I pause, biting hard into my lip.
“A…are you okay, Dad?”
He shakes his head.
“I thought you were dead!” he wails, “I’ve been in grieving! You can’t just do this to a person, Quinn!”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
The tears come thick and fast. I’ve wanted to apologise to him for so long, and now that I have the chance, I can’t string a sentence together. I pull back, rubbing madly at my face.
“I never should have left. I just…”
I let out a long, anguished sigh.
“I was scared. So much had happened, and I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I just ran. It was selfish. After everything…”
He pulls me into another embrace, this one so tight I can hardly breathe.
“Don’t be stupid. I don’t care about that.”
I gaze into his eyes – my father’s eyes – and for what seems like the millionth time, I see the similarities between us. The same pointed chin, upturned nose, deep brown eyes. It’s like looking into a mirror.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Dad says, his voice cracking a little, “I didn’t know what to do without you.”
“Me, too. You have no idea.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re home.”
He plants a kiss on my forehead.
“You’re back. I can’t believe it.”
My chest aches with happiness. How could I have doubted him? Did I really grow so distant that I feared he might disown me? This is Dad. He didn’t turn his back on me when I became a criminal. Why would he leave me now? If he can still have faith in me, after everything that’s happened…
I pause. The pain in his eyes reminds me of familiar loss. He still believes that Mom left us all those years ago. He has no idea of the truth. Suddenly, I feel a little sick. He doesn’t know why she left. Oh, god.
He doesn’t know she’s dead.
I step away, unable to look at my father’s eyes for a moment longer. For years I’ve been furious, angry that he thought I would dare abandon him like she did – and mad at her for leaving in the first place. Now I know the truth, that anger has been thoroughly ex
tinguished. It’s now replaced by a pure, uncontrollable sense of loathing for the people who snatched her away.
Footsteps fall behind me, and Dad’s face creases with concern.
“What is it?” I ask. He shakes his head.
“It’s… difficult to explain. While you’ve been away, things have changed.”
My stomach churns.
“Y-you mean Alice’s plan?”
“So you did know about it.”
“I knew about it… retrospectively. But things don’t seem any different.”
Dad glances over my shoulder, and his expression is suddenly unreadable.
“No time to catch up,” he breathes, “you’ve got a guest.”
The footsteps stop behind me, and I hear the unmistakable sound of guns being cocked.
“Hands up.”
I don’t turn around. I just keep my gaze fixed on Dad. He doesn’t seem afraid, exactly – just unsure. What’s happened in the time I’ve been gone?
For a brief moment, possibilities flick through my head. Perhaps Alice didn’t carry out her plan after all. Maybe she tried, but it didn’t work. Perhaps my act of defiance wasn’t enough to inspire people to act. I eye Dad curiously. There are dark circles under his eyes and creases where I could swear there weren’t creases before.
“I said, hands up.”
The voice is gruff and impersonal, but I don’t fully recognise it. An Operator? Someone from One, come to retain control? If the Council is still in charge around here, then what happened to Alice? The thought occurs that she may have been killed, but I shake it off. I can’t even think about that.
Someone lets out a frustrated grunt from behind me, and I grit my teeth. How many are there? Five? Six? If they each have a gun, how many of them could I take out before they overpowered me? I take stock of my body. Unharmed from the landing, but tired. So very tired. I don’t think I have enough fight left in me.
Still, I fix a stern look on my face as I turn around.
I pause. The people standing before me aren’t Operators. They aren’t suited Councilmen either. No – they’re from Four. They stand in makeshift armour and aim clearly-stolen guns in my direction. Each person has several loss knots braided into their hair, along with a multitude of fresh-looking scars. The man nearest to me seems to have been Branded twice; once on both cheeks. In spite of myself, I flinch.