Starborne

Chapter 32

8 hours until touchdown. 

Once we hit Cynabar airspace, it only took a few minutes for the Pilots to crank up the makeshift radio we cobbled together. The hardest part was making the transmitter large enough to broadcast a signal with any clarity. After three hours of brainstorming, one of the girls was able to hook up the system to a thin copper wire I pulled out of the wall somewhere on the third deck. They wove the wire back and forth through the metal bars of their cell, as ALYX patrolled the airwaves for any sign of contact.

They still didn’t trust me, but the Pilots all knew that I was their only chance at ever being free again. So, we struck a bit of a wary truce. 

"I still don't see why we're trusting her," one of the Pilots grumbled as we put together the finishing touches on the more technical aspects of our plan. 

"Because you don't have any other options. And I outrank you, stop talking like I'm not here." The girls were strong willed, bold, and pissed off. I would laugh at the irony if I weren't so annoyed at having spent nearly 30 hours straight putting up with their sass.

"So you say. Verdict is still out." This particular moment of dissention came from a blonde named Hanna, I figured her for a recruit from one of the higher colonies. She was a fighter, but wasn't used to suffering through this kind of discomfort, and it was making her particularly brassy. 

"Good point, the rest of us will go along with the plan then, and you can hang back here for someone with a badge to get you out." 

That earned my an eyeroll, but also merciful quiet. I was empathetic to how they must feel, forced to trust the very person who, for most of them, put them behind bars in the first place. I was never going to live that down. 

An excited murmur spread through the group as a low toned beep came through our ramshackle radio. We had a working signal, finally.

I took a deep breath, a low pit of anxiety pooling in my abdomen. I had faith in the plan, but now things were really snowballing. More than just conjecture, we had to begin making moves.

"Okay, you all are geniuses. Whiney, ungrateful geniuses. Now I need you to keep scanning, every second. When you make contact and verify it's someone on the ground, you ask for Akara. Friend of the crown prince." I sighed. "Prince Stefin."

"But what if the person we reach doesn't know who that is?" Good point, but I was praying that wouldn't happen.

"You have to do everything you can to get in contact with someone in the royal circle. They'll be able to make a connection from there." I hoped, but kept that part to myself. I knew it was important to portray confidence. 

"I have to go now. Stay sharp, and remember, you have eight hours to make contact and relay the plan. Don't get caught, and be ready for the signal."

I looked back at them on my way out, huddled in the cell. They were hopeful, murmuring to each other with the determination of soldiers on a mission. From a distance, though, it was exceptionally clear how young they were. How young we all were, to be dealing with war.

. . .

I'd been putting off the next part of the plan, waiting for Jack to call me rather than having to sulk back to him with my tail between my legs. For the past day and a half I was increasingly surprised and unnerved that I was allowed to come and go in the prison wing, undisturbed. I had no idea whether he was planning something and didn't trust me, or had written me off completely now that I gave him what he wanted. Either way, I had to play really dumb, and hide the seething mass of anger brewing in my chest.