Stolen Flyght – Chapter 26

There’s not much to choose from when it comes to food. My stomach is growling, and my body demands sustenance, so I have to be okay with what I can find. I grab one of the foil packages from Jinzo’s stash, tear the package open, and add hot water from our canteen in the fire.

While I wait for the food to heat up, I open my bag and rummage through it for the colorful emblems I stole from the base. Sitting down with crossed legs, I rub my thumb over the embroidered yellow mountain on black fabric. It’s so hard to believe that distant cousins of mine live on a faraway planet, yet here’s the evidence they exist. I wonder what they’re like, and if I’ll ever meet them someday. Someday, maybe. I hope so. I close my eyes and imagine their home world and how they live. And for a few moments, I forget about my situation and what I’ll have to do next. It’s just the respite I need from the craziness of life. I stuff the fabric back in my bag and zip it up tight.

After a few bites of my meal, the gloop sits like a brick in my stomach. Ugh. I’m not sure this meal is worth the effort, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. I have to chew every mouthful a hundred times and swallow each with more water. I had heard from other people that MRE stands for ‘meals ready to eat,’ but this is some cruel joke played on hungry people, not a meal.

“The ones I keep at home are better than this,” Nina says, enjoying the look of disgust on my face.

I pull the package away from my face and read it. “Lentil stew with protein.”

“I hate that one.” She yawns and shakes her head. “I need to get up and walk around.”

“You should sleep,” I tell her, even though she shakes her head again. “I just got some rest, and I’m ready to take watch for at least an hour.”

“No. I got us into this mess. I should be awake to get us out.”

I lift my mask and spoon more lentils into my mouth, trying not to gag. “I fail to see how you got us into this mess, especially when this was my mission.”

“I do blame you for a lot of this,” she says and chuckles. “But seriously, when I saw you run through the kitchen, I should have just let it be. I should have gone about my day like I had planned to. You would have seen what you did, not known the significance of it all, and left.” She sighs. “It’s been a lifelong struggle to let sleeping dogs lie. I’m sure Gus has told you as much.”

No comment.

“I’m glad he’s found someone like you.” She grunts. “I’m glad he’s found you.”

I pull back, unable to comprehend what’s coming out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the contract signing. They’ve been watching me for years, making sure I don’t step out of line.” She tosses a spent MRE bag to the back of the cave. “I fucking hate myself sometimes. I should have been stronger. Should have told them no. But I wanted to keep my family. Keep my head.” She gestures to the invisible noose around her neck.

I run what she just said through my thoughts again and pause my chewing. I should have been stronger. Should have told them no. I’ve felt the same things about my own situation frequently in the last few weeks. That if only I had been stronger, I would have been able to win more fights.

Nina and I are not that different.

“It’s a tough situation to be in.” Lifting my mask, I take another bite. “I admit I didn’t think good thoughts about you after the wedding and when you took the Amagi —”

“I don’t blame you.”

“But,” I stress, “I’ve seen a different side to you today. It’s not enough to make up for what happened, but I’m… I understand why you did what you did and why Gus loves you.”

I don’t forgive her for what happened. No, not yet. But she deserves some of my understanding.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice much smaller and quieter than before.

And that’s as much as we’re going to say to each other on the subject.

“I will sleep if you don’t mind. I can recharge in just an hour or two.”

“Please do.” I stand up and dust myself off. “I’m going to go stretch and look outside.”

I consider confiding in her about my plant and what it does. But she doesn’t know about my astral projection, and I’m not going to tell her. We’re just not there yet. I still don’t trust her, even if I’m starting to respect her.

I layer on another sweater and step out of the cave to survey the surrounding plain and mountain area. Everything is quiet. The ships are still on the other side of the mountain. The caravan is making its way through the pass. I pull the remaining leaves from my pocket and hold them in my sock-covered hands. They have a magical quality to them, calling to me and telling me to use them again.

Come on. You’ll feel so much better. This is the part of your life that was missing all this time. 

I inhale sharply and knock myself out of the transient state this plant lulls me into each time I’m near it.

Soon.

I tilt my head up to look at the stars. My farm is my calling, but the stars are my home too. If I don’t get the farm back, I will be happy flying through space. They may have been the worst of times, but they were the best of times too. Nights in bed with Jinzo, Ken, and Gus. A dinner with Mat on the Amagi. Laughing with Skylar on the bridge. Chatting with Carlos in his den. Cooking up dinner with Lia. The sheep in the cargo bay. The chickens wandering the hall. I’ll miss all of those moments.

Tears fall from my eyes down my cheeks, but I don’t lift the mask to brush them away. These memories deserve my tears. It was a shock to change my life so abruptly, and yet, it was good for me. I want to mourn that life. I’m happy I got to live it.

I return to the cave to get an empty MRE container, and I use it to scoop up snow for Gloria. My hands can’t take the cold anymore.

Setting the container at her side, I try to analyze her critically like Gus does. Her face is flushed behind her mask, and she’s murmuring in her sleep. That’s not good. Checking the oxygen levels on her mask, she’s down to only ten percent left in the tank. I had turned up her oxygen when she was hurt and turned it back down again once we were in the cave. She’ll run out before the rest of us.

My worry grows as I kneel at her side and lift the blanket to examine her leg. Even though I got a shot of antibiotics into her, the injury looks like it might be infected. Her skin reminds me of mine the time I gashed my leg, and Gus had to pick me up off the hospital floor.

I set my icy hand on her forehead and hiss. She’s burning up. Yeah, her leg is definitely infected, and she needs to be in a hospital as soon as possible.

The snow I brought in will help keep the pain away and slow the infection. Trying not to freeze my own hands, I wrap the snow into a thin sheet, and as gently as possible, I place it on her leg. Her eyes open for a moment, and then she sinks back down into delirious sleep.

We’re running out of time.

I sit by the fire and meditate. I contemplate all my missteps and my successes, too. There are lessons to be learned from each decision I made, and I plan to put those lessons to task when I get back the farm.

That’s it. When I get back to the farm.

Yes, the farm will be mine. I’m getting off this planet. I’m getting my loved ones home safe. And we’re all going to live happily ever after… even if it kills me.

Right. That’s positive thinking for ya.

After an hour, it’s time to rouse Jinzo from sleep. He’s barely moved since he laid down an hour and a half ago. By the time he’s up and awake, Nina and Skylar are awake too. Lia, Carlos, and Eamon are all still asleep, so we leave them be.

I grab Jinzo’s arm and lean into his ear. It’s challenging to whisper with the mask on.

“I should head out to scout again. Prepare us, just in case.”

He nods. “How much of the plant do you have left?”

“You gave me four leaves and a stem. I only took one leaf the last time, so I have plenty left over.”

“Good. It would be a shame to use them all today.”

I grab his hand and squeeze. “Don’t tell Gus’s mom,” I whisper to him. She’s outside standing guard. “I don’t want to have that fight with her. If she asks, just tell her I’m sleeping.”

I grin like I’m about to be treated to a fancy dinner complete with three courses of desserts. I’m so excited to take the plant again; my hand shakes as I lift my mask and bring the leaf to my mouth. As I chew on it, endorphins scream through my blood, and my mind shifts into the heightened Zen state. I breathe in and out, slowly, deliberately.

Yes, here it comes.

Lying on the makeshift bed, my body rests, but my projection shoots out. I leave the cave in a blur, flying faster than my previous excursion. This is like riding a bike. I’ve now got the hang of it, and I could do it over and over if asked to. Unfortunately, the plant won’t last forever unless I go to Rio and find it for myself.

I turn and face our cave as I rise into the sky. Nina is there at the entrance, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to stay warm. Her head tilts in my direction, and I freeze in place.

Wait. Can she see me?

She gets out her binoculars, and a ripple of fear runs through me right before I hear the rumble of engines.

I spin around, and an incoming shuttle streaks past our location. It’s not directed at us, but it is close enough to notice the Amagi. Ugh. I was really hoping it’d be daylight by the time we needed to run for it. It’s close, but the morning isn’t here yet.

Glancing back at Nina, her jaw is set, and her stare is hard. She knows our time is short now. I have to keep going.

Willing myself higher, I rise to several thousand meters again. The caravan through the mountain pass is gone, having made it to the burning base. The ships that were combing the grounds on the other side of the mountain are on this side now, sweeping the snowy field with their searchlights.

This is worrisome. The military is moving fast, faster than I anticipated. The experiment we witnessed probably has a lot to do with their response time. The portal gate was super top-secret, and they’re on the prowl for anyone who had anything to do with it.

Okay, I have to do something drastic. We need to know where our rescue team is so we can make plans to either run and hide before the sun comes up or to stay put for a pickup.

I look up at the stars and the shuttles zooming around in orbit. They’re not that far away. I can reach them. I can get into orbit.

Yeah. I can.

My grasp of orbital mechanics is a little rough, but I know if I rise up and stay in one spot, I’m bound to find most of the ships coming and going from this place on Neve. If they’re orbiting, they’ll be fast. I won’t have to be there long.

I test my rubber band, and I can still feel my body. Orbit shouldn’t be that bad.

The ascension to orbit takes longer than I would like. I try to use my mind to just put me there, but it doesn’t work. Space and time still matter as a projection, and I have to travel there, though I can do it faster than most rocket ships.

The cold blackness of space is strangely quiet after the chaos of the planet. My body is in the cave, breathing and living, but my senses are here with me. Ships glide in, silent in the vacuum. I count five smaller military cruisers heading to the surface and three leaving to rendezvous with a giant battleship in high orbit. Turning around, I wait and wait, hoping to see more, but most of the traffic is just in this one spot, coming and going.

I’m about to give up when a buzzing grows in my head. The sound escalates to a crescendo, and my awareness tingles. Light flashes, and a new ship jumps right in front of me.

Whoa! I try to pull away from it, but it’s coming at me so quickly I slip right through the hull and into the ship’s interior.

Usually, when I’m in an unfamiliar situation, I panic. The fight-or-flight instinct takes over, and I tend to run. But the plant keeps me steady. I know people can’t see me, and that gives me some anonymity. I can handle an enemy spaceship.

But the return of sound from the vacuum of space to the ship’s interior is jarring. I wince against the onslaught of sound and light.

The ship squeaks, beeps, and grinds, and the murmur of voices rises to a crescendo as I float through the layers of decks. Whatever ship this is, it’s moving fast. How do I anchor myself?

As soon as I think it, my body’s projection stabilizes, and a familiar corridor pops up in front of me. I know where I am.

I force myself forward, slide through a bulkhead, and the bridge of the Lee home ship comes into focus.

Hera Lee stands at the head of the bridge, her chin up.

“All right,” she says, raising her commanding voice over the murmur of the room. “We’re coming in hot and unexpected, so let’s keep the element of surprise. Deploy the dropships. We have business on Neve, and we’re not leaving until our team is back on board.”

The cavalry has arrived.