Icarus

Part 8

Back in the New Resistance base, Roger and Miri stood in the doorway of a large room filled with the stuff of every technology nerd’s wildest dreams: rows upon rows of neatly organized screens, wires, bins of machine parts, and much more. Blueprints, coded messages, and security camera feeds from all over the city cycled through the different wall-mounted screens. The Resistance tech mage who’d been assigned to help them out removed their mask, revealing a face with beautifully androgynous features, a sailor’s deeply tanned skin, and the biggest gauge earrings Roger had ever seen.
“So you two are the prodigies, huh?”
“Proddy-what-now?” Miri asked.
“Prodigies, Miri.” Roger corrected, smiling down at her. “It means somebody who’s really good at something for their age. And yes, we are. This is Miri, I’m Roger.”
The mage grinned, eyes crinkling up at the corners.
“Oh, good. I’m Kai. It’s going to be great to have people I don’t need to explain everything to! Oh, and Miri? Marshal lets us have candy in here. Special genius privileges.”
Miri grinned back at Kai.
“Yay! Let’s get started!”
Pretty soon, the three of them had struck up an animated conversation as Kai showed them around. Miri had already decided that Kai was her new best friend, and it wasn’t long before they were all hunched over computers, fingers tapping as they tried to track Lyr down.

In the main training room, the Marshal was explaining things to the new recruits.
“You’ll all need to train for a bit with each kind of weapon before you try to pick one main one. Being versatile and able to think fast is a better weapon than any kind of blade or blaster. You’re welcome to use this room whenever there’s free space, the more work you put in the better. You’re part of the Resistance now, so we’ll all help you out. Rufus, Maysha, you’re assigned to answer these guys’ questions and help them get settled.”
Rufus, a gangly redhead, and Maysha, a woman whose hair was as short, dark, and practical as she was, nodded to the Marshal as she left the room. Suddenly, these brightly lit tunnel corridors that had been her home, her sanctuary, for the past ten years seemed claustrophobic and restricting. She was so close now, everything she’d worked on for the past decade was finally coming to fruition. These kids she’d found might prove valuable allies, and the girl, the one who called herself Lyr . . . well, bringing her memories and powers back might prove traumatic, but it was necessary. At least she hadn’t been in the Elites’ clutches this whole time. At least she’d been free for a while, with these other kids.
Fates, the Marshal hoped Jorella -- No, Lyr -- would remember her. What if she didn’t? What if those memories were too deeply buried under years of who-knows-what?
The Marshal shook her head as she opened the door to her private quarters. She couldn’t think like that. Sentimentality was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now. Well, maybe one moment of weakness. Just one, before she had to resume her role as leader.
Walking over to the small cabinet near her bed, she pulled out a handful of photos, photos that she’d paid a small fortune to have printed on real paper instead of the normal thin plastic cards. Taking off her hood and mask, the Marshal shook her mane of deep blue hair, absently brushing a stray strand behind her ear as she stared at the photographs. The first one was of her, younger, heavily pregnant, and smiling from ear to ear in the arms of another woman. The next few were of her and her dark-skinned, purple-haired wife, holding a tiny, chubby baby whose hair was a brighter shade of blue than her own. The few after that showed the baby growing into a tiny girl, feisty, smart, and adorable. The last photo was the same one Roger had seen in the immigration database, blurry and grainy but unmistakably the same little girl. The Marshal traced her finger along the outline of the girl’s cheek, tears welling in her eyes.
“Mama’s coming for you, baby Jo.” She whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “I’m coming to bring you home.”
Not that she even knew what counted as home anymore. These tunnels? The ruins of their old house in Kelmar, near her wife’s Lost In Action military memorial? Her father’s island mansion, where both he and Jorella had disappeared? Somewhere she hadn’t even found yet?
A new, terrifying thought struck her. What if her daughter did remember her, but didn’t want to come back?
“Okay, that’s enough of that.” She muttered, dashing the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “I need to be strong right now.”
With a soft prayer to the Fates, Lyr’s mother pressed the photographs to her forehead, then hid them safely at the back of the cabinet drawer. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and put her mask back on before heading out to check on the tech mages. The Marshal was back, and she had work to do.