HMS Valediction

Chapter 24

Time dangles above my head, taunting me while I do what I can to bat away the inactivity of prison. Usually, it's not hard. I've had great practice. But this is different than before. I'm trapped with the fire of desperation burning under my feet. The fire reminds me every day—every minute—that my son is on his own, captured in a jar in the clutches of a psychotic dictator. Prison in the URE was a vacation compared to this. Every day, I wake up and pull myself off the floor. I'm stiff and angry. I think about my child—how this is another day he's not nestled in my arms. I leap up and begin building the muscles that had gone soft from Knuckles' forced bedrest. Grabbing the shreds of my sleeves from the ground, I re-wrap them around my fists. My speedy recovery must have something to do with whatever alien remedy they used to stitch me back up. The scars marring my abdomen have almost completely faded. There's nothing to remind me that I was strapped to a bed with my gut wide open except the image of staring down at my insides in my nightmares.

The dream fuels me.

I've been hitting the forcefield for days, using it as my punching bag and hoping it will crack. But it's still the same voltage as each time before. Maybe one day it'll crack.

Jab.

Cross.

Jab.

Uppercut.

Backhand.

The pattern goes on forever. It feels like it does, anyway.

Elias joins me. He coaches me from afar. He keeps my time. I keep his. We train together.

"Chin down!" he shouts at me.

I tuck in and jab the barrier again. My breath is even despite the brutal sting of each punch against the electric wall. No amount of wrapping could stop the zap.

Now I welcome it. Relish it.

He claps his hands to grab my attention. "Rest."

I straighten my spine, and crack it, dropping my knuckles to my hips as I walk the lap around my invisible box.

"You're gettin' faster," he says with approval. "Not bad for militia."

"I'm surprised you noticed," I point in his direction. Sweat drips from my fingertip. "Jarheads aren't known for their attention to nuances."

"Drop and give me fifty, worm."

"I'm higher ranking than you."

He chuckles. It's like being at the Sink again. These moments with Elias make me miss my father with rabid ferocity.

"You're gathering wool again. Where'd you wander off to?" Elias drops to the floor and turns in a one-armed plank while we chat.

"Thinking about my dad."

"Did he make it underground?"

I snort. "He's the one who dragged me down there when I was two. I don't even know what ARC he's on. I have no idea where he is, how he's doing, what the journey's been like for him. It's harder not knowing."

"Ain't that the truth." Elias' gaze wanders to the corner of the room.

I'm an idiot. At least I have an idea was my family is. This man recently found out everyone he loves is dead—lost among the piles of bones littering his planet. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing to say."

He remains quiet.

I struggle as the silence thickens. "What was Earth like when you were on it?"

"Terrible."

That's not what I expected. "Why did you want to go back so bad then? Why did you fight so hard for it?"