Once the jump was complete, Nash unbuckled and went to the rear of the craft to help Mia and Zol shuffle Greg into one of the hydro-stasis tanks so he could heal properly. It spared them from having to hear him attempt to talk every few minutes. After the Human was dispatched with, Nash returned to the cockpit and offered her friend the same, but Kory refused, insisting she wanted to be present for the debrief. “I want to know exactly what happened,” she grimaced. “Just slap a limb cuff on me.”

  “Of course! why didn’t I think of that?” Nash shook her head, running to fetch the device of which Kory spoke: a modular, cylindrical, and very hi-tech brace that could be affixed to an extremity to heal linear fractures in a matter of hours through the power of infrared light and patented enzymes. It didn’t take long for Kory’s pain to intensify once the warm, red glow of the ‘limb cuff’ turned on. She felt as if her whole forearm was being turned inside out as the bones began to rearrange into their original shape. Her last three ankle sprains and shoulder break couldn’t hold a candle to this.

  “This thing only fixes your arm; it doesn’t make it feel better while it’s happening. Let me give you something else,” Nash fretted, furrowing her eyebrows in worry as her friend breathed shallow through gritted teeth.

  “No,” Kory gasped. “I want to be clear-headed for when it goes down.”

  “You will be,” Nash soothed. “I promise.”

  Kory paused, then reluctantly nodded in the affirmative. Nash produced a vial and a needle she’d brought without being asked and injected the medicine into Kory’s left arm. In only a moment she saw her wounded body release its tension and slump back into the copilot’s chair.

  “Did you give me the whole thing?” Kory slurred.

  “No, it was half. You’re fine.”

  “I’m fine,” Kory echoed, significantly more relaxed now. She rose from her seat with a little sway in her step.

  “Now, let’s get back there and figure out what we’re going to do.” Nash took Kory’s hand and led her towards the other shell-shocked passengers.

  “And just what are we going to do?” her friend lilted as they crossed the threshold.

  Nash sighed, having found no answer yet. She looked determinedly at Mia and Zol and received yet again, the same blank stares which met her earlier in the scorched hallway. Sohrab had left his seat already and was presumably searching the kitchen for something with which to celebrate his great victory. “Get back out here!” Nash barked towards the door behind the passenger seats that led to the living space.

  He strolled back through the passage, glass half empty and confidence running over. “Now before you start…” He began.

  “Before I start!? Because of what you did, we’re pretty much done now! Do you even see what a bad position this puts us in?”

  “…you should know I was right. And we are far from done. The way I see it, everything that happened down there, was supposed to happen.” He explained, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the seat beside him.

  “I don’t believe it,” Nash’s eyes narrowed in scorn. “You really are as stupid as you look.” She knew how to chip away at him.

  The briefest twinge of irritation flashed across Sohrab’s face, but he ignored the feeling, still believing himself to be in control. “You’re right, you don’t believe it. Not out loud at least, but at your core you know it to be true.” He stood up a little taller, took a sip from the glass, and stared down at her in his condescending way. “For the rest of you who have no idea to what I’m referring, that little storm we just weathered was intentional, inasmuch as it was…”

  “Get to the point!” Mia glared up at him from her seat.

  Sohrab wasn’t keen on being interrupted again, so he shouted over her. “We were set up! But not in the way you may think.”

  The conversation moved into the kitchen and living area, where the psychic continued to regale them with his theory of how the trouble at the mine evolved. He painstakingly explained every step in the conspiracy and recounted every stray thought he’d picked up along the way, gesturing wildly with his lit cigarette, the smoke from which disappeared almost instantly. The ship’s ventilation system really was that good.

  “…and as soon as I figured out they didn’t plan to let us leave, I was sure it had to be bigger than all that, bigger than them and their little rebellion to be sure. It was always the intent of those who sent us to have it all go badly. We did exactly what we were there to do, and I sincerely doubt any negative consequences will come our way.”

  “You’ve got to be out of your mind,” Nash stared at him incredulously. Though the softening tone in her voice indicated a deeper curiosity towards his view. She sat wedged in between Kory, and Zol, with Mia hanging off the far end of the little bench seat at their table. Kory slid out to go fetch herself a glass of wine and the other three scooted automatically. “You’re not supposed to drink on painkillers!” Nash scolded as Kory pulled the glass from the cabinet.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “yOu’Re NoT sUppOseD tO dRinK oN pAiNkiLLerS,” Kory mocked, delicately pouring from the bottle with her left hand. She raised the glass in Nash’s direction, then stood near Sohrab and eyed him up and down, waiting for the next phase of his argument to begin. “Well?”

  “That’s all there is to it, I’m afraid,” He grinned at her, before turning to procure his own refill. “But if you’re in the mood for more theories –”

  “Enough!” Zol bellowed, striking the small table with his heavy fist. “This useless talk, it’s all any of you do, all the time!” The others gaped at him, struck dumb by his brutish revelation. Nash had been leaning on the table with her chin in her palms when his hand landed so she nearly bit her tongue off at the force of the impact. The physical blow paled in comparison to his formidable gaze as he turned to look her straight in eye. By now she’d trained herself not to notice him so directly that she’d forgotten how real he was. More than a silent statue to take for granted, he was, in that moment, powerful, raw, and very much alive. “What’s the next planet we’re going to?” He asked her.

  Nash lowered her face in astonishment for an instant, catching sight of the coarse, black hair that sprung from the reddish surface of his thick forearms, not unlike the harsh woodlands of his home world. “It’s a moon of some gas giant… in the Sebarnka system.” She stammered, reluctantly bringing her eyes to meet his own.

  “Who’ll be there to fight?” Zol said the quiet part out loud, earning him a sharp inhale or two from those around the room who considered themselves civilized.

  “I…I don’t…” She turned from him and slunk out of the booth, mumbling, “I have to go call my uncle.”

  “Do that.” Zol affirmed, standing as she left. Nash paused in the doorway to see him once more. His eyes were wider now, more intense, burning her like that fire she’d first got a good look at him in. “And you tell him that it’s not over ‘til it’s over.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, before disappearing from the room. The nonsense of his command was buried deep below the conviction with which it was delivered. She rested in the pilot’s seat, letting the flashing waves of infinite stars wash over her, unable to shake his words. What had been so empowering about them?

  When she brought the comms system online at last, Rahenzo was sadly unreachable. But she knew better than to hope to discuss anything sensitive with him now. Who, if anyone, monitored these channels? Was the ship still in range of the planet they’d fled in guilt? Forgoing conversation for the time being did next to nothing to ease the growing ache of fear and guilt weighing heavy within her. Growing up she’d only heard rumors of the maximum-security floating satellite prisons reserved for the sickest of mass murderers. But after a launch or two from the surface of her world, she was sure they were real.

  She sank deeper into her seat. The sound of resumed squabbling from the room behind made for a discordant melody overtop the steady rhythm of the Stardust’s engines. Something about the perfect mundaneness of the noise summoned the familiar sting of tears. A drop or two broke free of her violet eyes before she wiped them away in shame, a futile gesture. The flood was coming either way. But just before the torrent overtook her, a faint beacon of hope flashed across the screen. It was a message from her uncle.

  << Debrief postponed. Proceed to next objective>>

  Something about this dry, minimal communication was all it took to seal the dam back up again. Nash must have read the five words ten times before she felt any sense of relief. The gnawing sense of condemnation subsided, at least for now. Whether or not Sohrab was right, Zol at least was. It wasn’t over until it was over.

  Nash took a moment to collect herself, then rose to relay the news to the others. When she re-entered the living quarters, the palpable tension of whatever had transpired while she was away hung thick in the air. Mia had gone to the rear of the ship to fret over Greg in his hydro-stasis tank. Zol leaned against the table with his arms crossed; the same stony, rough expression across his face. Kory lingered in the middle of the room, half-empty wineglass in her left hand and the pulsing, red limb cuff on her right. Nash didn’t like the way she was eyeing up Zol. She assumed his moment of piercing clarity had been only for her. On the opposite wall, Sohrab was quiet, though visibly seething with rage and openly leering at Kory. He held the neck of a vodka bottle languidly between his long, white fingers, having decided to forgo the formality of a glass even this early in the evening.

  In an effort to cut through all the malaise, Nash ventured to speak when Kory beat her to it. “I think,” she said, swaying only slightly. “That he may have a point.” She pointed at Sohrab, though she didn’t look at him.

  “…that you think at all,” Sohrab said scornfully, barely flinching as he drank straight from the bottle.

  “So… we can all rest easy for now,” Nash said timidly, hopefully, wiping the corner of her eye without meaning to. Only Kory looked right at her, acting upon the silent protocol established by the preceding two decades together. The resolute acknowledgement in her black eyes sent a wave of calm through Nash’s mind. She instantly forgave her for looking at Zol. How could she not, after all?

  “Was it true? What he said?” Kory briefly glanced in Sohrab’s direction.

  “My uncle said we’re delaying the debrief and proceeding to the next planet. It seems okay doesn’t it?” Nash presumed cautiously, wondering if the rest would share in her fragile hope. She settled for acceptance from Kory and tense silence from the other two.

  Sohrab rocked himself up off of the kitchen wall where he’d taken up residence and shambled like a ghoul through the door leading to the sleeping area. “…I said that already,” he hissed as he left the room.

  “What happened while I was gone?” Nash asked Kory, though she glanced at Zol too. He shook his head before crossing the room to rummage through the fridge.

  Kory placed what remained of her since-forgotten wine on the counter and sighed. “Don’t even worry about it.”

  #

  The cabin lights dimmed after a few hours as the whole ship was ostensibly asleep. The bedrooms were small, each as pitiful as the other. Kory had left her windowless cell some time ago to sit at the kitchen table, wishing to stare at anything besides the red, pulsing light encircling her right arm. Again, the pain of reconstruction plagued her. Consideration prevented her from waking Nash to ask for more relief, or was it pride? The light from the racing stars outside the windows thrummed in lockstep with the throbbing, dull ache. In the silence of the artificial night, believing herself to be alone, she closed her eyes and permitted the slightest moan of displeasure to escape her lips. Then he appeared.