Wisdom in the Dark

Chapter 17 - Myra

Myra’s head swam, and her vision was blurry. She vaguely remembered the crash of the two Sylphs and the explosion. And then?

Myra groaned as she attempted to push herself up. Her whole body hurt. And what was that smell? Why was it so warm?

The heat grew, and as Myra’s hearing returned, she could hear the crackle of fire. Smoke surrounded her. Myra was suddenly alert with the realization, and she tried to stand. Her progress was stopped by something pressing heavily on her back. Myra sucked air through her teeth as sharp pains shot through her whole body, and she fought a cry that threatened to escape her throat.

“Mother?” Myra croaked. “Ylya?”

There were no answers.

“Sara? Simon?”

The smoke grew thicker, and Myra had trouble breathing. Myra tried to push herself up harder, yet still she didn’t move an inch. She blinked hard a few times and took in the destruction surrounding her.

Several metal beams lay across her back and legs – it was a miracle she wasn’t crushed to death. Further down the bank of consoles in the traffic control building she could see a dainty hand poke out from under some metal debris where Sara had sat, red stained the display screen. Sara is dead, Myra told herself.

“Mother?” Myra yelled, fear and anxiety boiling within her chest. “Mother!”

Still no answer came.

Tears began to fill Myra’s eyes as the fire at the far end of the traffic control center began to grow and drew closer to Myra.

“Mother?” Myra screamed. “Anybody?”

They’re dead, Myra thought as the flames licked closer. They’re all dead. I’m going to die here. Myra’s thoughts turned to her husband, Jak, and their last terse encounter. Would he even miss me?

Just as the fires within the destroyed traffic control center seemed to crawl barely a meter away from Myra’s body, the loud squealing of tortured metal suddenly filled the air and light poured into the building and onto Myra. Myra looked up to see a Sylph towering over her, it’s weapon-arms slowly, carefully prying the destroyed roof and wall of the building apart.

When there seemed to be enough space, the chest of the Sylph blossomed outward, and Jak practically leapt down the rope ladder that spilled out.

“Myra!”

Myra’s heart sang at seeing Jak. Jak darted forward, the compact fire extinguisher from within his Sylph cradled under one arm. With quick, efficient movements Jak pointed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher and quenched the flames near Myra. It wasn’t enough to put out the whole fire, but it bought Jak time as he began pulling and pushing the metal beams off Myra.

“Are you hurt?” Jak asked, clearly exasperated. “Is anything broken?”

“I-I think I can make it,” Myra replied as she began to push herself to a kneeling position.

Jak leaned down to help Myra, and together they stood. Myra felt a few sharp pains in her legs and lower back, but nothing that prevented her from walking. I’m alive, I have to keep moving. I have to keep fighting for my people.

Myra pushed herself to move, though she hobbled forward slowly. Jak helped her the whole way to his Sylph.

“Can you climb?”

Myra nodded. “Yes. My mother-“

Before Myra said another word Jak darted back into the still-burning building. He picked his fire extinguisher back up and sprayed more of the ever-growing flames. Myra began to climb the rope ladder up into the Sylph’s cockpit, her entire body protesting the whole way up. Keep going.

“I found her!”

Myra looked down to see Jak hefting a metal sheet off the traffic control floor to expose Myra’s mother. Mytla seemed alright at first, then Myra noticed the red pool near her mother’s head. Nearby Myra spotted Anna, Mytla’s attendant, buried under more debris, blood dribbling down her now pale white face. Myra forced herself to look away and keep climbing into the cockpit of Jak’s Sylph. There’s nothing I can do for the dead, Myra told herself, I can only help the living.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Myra reached the Sylph’s cramped cockpit. She crawled on aching hands and knees past the pilot’s seat and unfolded the smaller, utilitarian jump seat behind it. As Myra collapsed into the seat, legs splayed out on either side of the pilot’s seat Jak appeared in the cockpit entrance, Mytla hefted over one shoulder.

“Is she. . .?” Myra began to ask.

“She’s breathing,” Jak replied. “But her pulse is slow.”

Carefully, gently, Jak leaned into the Sylph’s cockpit, sliding Mytla off his shoulder and into his arms, and placed her into Myra’s lap. Myra cradled her mother’s broken form. For all of Myra’s life, Mytla seemed larger and more powerful than the person constantly hunched over in the wheelchair her attendant, Anna, always pushed around the Pyc Village. Now, curled in Myra’s arms, Mytla seemed so fragile and frail.

The Sylph’s cockpit closed as Jak sat in the padded pilot’s seat. There was a moment of darkness just before the cockpit filled with the light of the three-sixty spherical view and heads up display.

“I have Myra and Mytla,” Jak reported the moment his helmet was on and connected to the Sylph’s systems.

“Anybody else?” Myra heard Ctik ask.

“Negative.” Jak’s voice was hard.

“Damnit!” Ctik swore.

“Ctik, I know this is hard right now,” Jak continued, voice hard. “I need you and Akos to patrol the skies between Pyc Village and the Holowycz Forest.”

“But-!” Ctik began to protest.

Jak cut him off. “We are vulnerable to another attack, and we can’t let more Pyc Family die. Do you understand?”

There was pause before Ctik replied, and Myra could tell he fought with his emotions.

“Acknowledged,” Ctik said, his words sounding like they came through gritted teeth.

“We’ve got this,” Akos said before boosting higher into the Callistan skies over Pyc Village.

Jak stood the Sylph on its feet and Myra’s stomach seemed to flop as they moved further from the ground. Myra had been a Sylph pilot before, but the time away from the cockpit had made her unused to its movements.

Below Myra could see the destruction of the traffic control center. Now the flames raged through the structure. If there had been hope for any of the other people in that building it was gone now. Myra fought tears from her eyes as she said a prayer to Wotuos for Anna, Sara and Simon. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last prayer she said for Pyc dead that day.

“Thank you,” Myra said, turning to Jak.

At first Jak didn’t respond. Myra could see his eyes scanned the village and its surroundings. His pupils were wide under his pilot helmet, sweat drenching his taught skin and through his pilot suit. Jak was on high alert for anything that could threaten Pyc Village.

Then, for a moment, Jak turned to face Myra. He looked deep into her eyes, and she became lost in his. “You don’t need to thank me. You’re my wife.”

Jak turned back to the task at hand: securing Pyc Village. As Jak walked the Sylph around the perimeter of the damaged habitat dome and the surrounding farm and wilderness domes Myra could see Pyc Militia securing entrances to the village itself.

“Jak this is Durko,” the voice of the Pyc Family militia commander said over the communications net. “We’ve secured the village. I have personnel putting out fires in the village and getting headcounts. It seems we’ve lost approximately forty people. That isn’t confirmed yet. I’ll have better numbers soon.”

“Understood,” Jak said, his voice monotone. “Provide updates as soon as you know hard numbers.”

Myra was amazed at the amount of emotional control Jak had at that moment. Would she have had the same control if their places were switched?

“How are you holding up?” Jak asked Myra as he continued to walk his war machine around Pyc Village.

Myra shook her head, clutching her mother closer. “I’m devastated. Over forty people gone. I have no clue if my mother will make it. And what if another Family finds out about our weakness and attacks us. We’re in no position to defend ourselves. We could call your family, but it will be few days before they get here. If we had more allies. . .”

Myra’s voice trailed off. Though she could wish all she wanted, it would do no good. The Pyc Village had no other allies. The relationship with Wodniki Village had been difficult enough to facilitate and build. Myra and her Family were alone on Callisto.

“There was a family on ancient Terra called the Hapsburgs who ruled a large land,” Jak began. “Though there were plenty of people, they refused to marry outside their family in order to maintain power, and birth defects quickly followed. Each of the families within the Jovian moons thinks themselves just as important as the Hapsburgs, and their pride is their downfall.” Jak paused. “Our pride is our downfall.”

“How do we build those relationships when no one will trust one another?” Myra asked.

Jak shrugged. “Our Families did it. If we can, others can. Not everyone, obviously. The Kotik are off the list. We just have to find a way. Otherwise,” Jak pointed to the destruction in Pyc Village. “More of this could be our fate.”

Myra wanted to say more, but at that moment Mytla stirred.

“Mother?”

“M-Myra.” Mytla’s voice was a weak croak.

“It’s alright, mother, I have you,” Myra said, trying to make her voice soothing. “You’re alive. The Village was saved.”

Mytla’s body was wracked by coughs before she spoke again. “It’s all my fault.”

“What?” Myra asked in disbelief. “No, it’s no one’s fault except the Kotik. And we made them pay.”

“No daughter.” Mytla’s words were interrupted by coughs again before she continued. “I told them.”

“Told them what?”

“That I knew the location of the Lost Factory.”

Myra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How could you know the location of something that doesn’t exist? It’s a fairy tale.”

“It exists,” Mytla replied. “It’s a secret that’s been passed down from generation to generation of the leaders of our family. Your father knew and took the secret to his grave. I’ve known since shortly before my father died.”

“Why didn’t you share the location of the Lost Factory?” Jak asked.

“Others would have taken it for themselves,” Mytla protested. “I couldn’t be sure who to trust. I kept it to myself, knowing only I would use the knowledge for the good of all of the Jovian moons, and not just for some short-sighted ideas about saving my village.”

“But you told the Kotik,” Jak countered, though he remained focus on path of travel.

“I had been in talks with them in secret for the last thirty rotations or so,” Mytla said. “I had my reservations, but our Family was dwindling before my eyes with low birth rates, and the Kotik have the same issue. I shared it with them in hopes it would bring them closer to an alliance.”

Mytla’s hubris had been her downfall, and the downfall of the Pyc.

“Do my parents know?” Jak asked.

“Yes,” Mytla replied, her voice weaker than before.

“What is it?”

Mytla took a few shallow, rattled breaths before she continued. “The Lost Factory is said to be able to build spaceships which could return us to the cradle of human civilization: Earth. There we should be able to reproduce normally.”

“I thought Earth was gone,” Myra interjected.

“It might be,” Mytla said, her voice quieter now. “But isn’t it worth the chance? Even if we were to die, it’s better to die fighting than just giving up. And even if Earth is still there and all the people on Earth are gone, it’s humanity’s home. Our bodies were made for Earth, not Jupiter’s moons. Our bodies should function properly on Earth. In time one could rebuild the human race.”

“Where is it?” Myra asked, panic filling her voice. “Where’s the Lost Factory.”

Mytla’s eyes began to flutter.

“Mother!”

“In deep darkness, between god and mortal, find new life, a heavenly portal.”

Then Mytla’s eyes closed, and she said no more.

Jak stared in disbelief. “A child’s rhyme?”

“I. . .” Myra’s voice trailed off, a confused look on her face. “I don’t know. I don’t understand.”