The Exodus

Even as the daughter of the emperor’s favored general, Mina would be getting no special privileges. No headstarts or favors. She certainly hadn’t received any mercy.

What she had was five minutes, at best, before she was really screwed. Any hope of getting up into the air and out of the local atmosphere would vanish, if she couldn’t split—and with a quickness. She pushed the throttle wide open, wondering how it all could have come to this. Knowing, though, that it had been rigged from the beginning.

The verdict, read not but half an hour ago, had sent her into this tailspin, had forced her to come face-to-face with the knowledge that this home she was being forced from? It had never cared to count her one of its citizens, despite the deep affection she harbored for it. If anything, it’d been looking for just the right moment to send her scrambling from its borders.

Her impeccable memory called forth the damning words as she did exactly that: scramble to get away.

“The Imperial Court finds,” the official statement had been read out by a nasally administrative blob who’d do nothing for the entirety of their career other than follow blindly the commands passed along to them, “in account with Case No. 56345, that the defending party, a one Miss Mina of Starrfĕld, is guilty of the charges brought before the magistrate and is sentenced to a lifetime of exile from Anteria and its greater planetary realm. The appeals process has been denied, and any and all attempts at returning at a future time will be met by violent and fatal action. The Court would like to remind all its constituents that corrupt and felonious behavior is prohibited under pain of justice and death.”

Justice, Mina scoffed to herself as the rumble of her little ship’s engines reached a tell-tale volume, What do they know about this thing they miscarry? But I tell you what: The corrupt should recognize corrupt—and they should know I’m not one of them.

She needed to focus. She would run out of time ranting to know one in the quiet of her mind, and she needed to get out of there.

Easing up off the landing pad, she kept half her mind on the pitch of her engines, waiting for just the right tone that would let her know all was warmed up and ready to shoot off into the sky, and the other half was punching a familiar sequence of buttons on the console stretching horizontally around her head. She knew every pattern any flyer would need to have at the ready. Whatever the weather, whatever the landing conditions, whatever the fight she might find herself in, she could submit the correct programming to the ship’s hard-drive and get to where she needed to go in one piece.

There wasn’t anything specific she could have been taught for this getaway scenario, so she did the best she could with the knowledge she had. Would it be enough?

She’d just switched gears, clocked the gauge corresponding to the vehicle’s speed ramping up, and was beginning to think, yes, she was set to make it out when the formation of defenders beeped onto her radar. Less than a minute. They’d given her less than a minute of air time to make her escape.

Because this was what the official statement had failed to say: Her sentence, as a newly condemned criminal of the Imperial system, was exile—but only if she could make a successful exit first. 

Only if she didn’t loiter in her family’s apartments wondering where to go and was found by Imperial Guards and executed right there in the chambers she’d grown up in. Only if she wasn’t caught running through the streets to the sanctioned air strip where she’d been granted permission when she was ten, far younger than anyone in generations, to keep her own spacecraft. Only if she wasn’t shot down in that very same craft she’d learned from the best—from her dearly beloved, dearly departed father—to fly and find freedom in. There’d be no freedom, if they got to her first.

Being found in her home was easily avoided by the decision she’d made upon hearing her sentence to simply not go back there. There’d been nothing left to say to her mother that she hadn’t spent her whole life communicating, and going back for sentimental, personal items was too costly. She’d read somewhere that 81% of exiled criminals never even made it to their getaway transportation because they’d gone back, gone home. Had that stat been collected to deter people from trying to run? To make them feel like they’d been defeated already so what was the point to try and make a break for it? For Mina, it was a stat that served to shape her strategy.

Because this was the other thing: she’d known. She’d known how her case would be found. She’d known there’d be no hope for her, no matter who her father had been to the emperor. And that was reality because what she’d been found guilty of was knowing too much, even before her trial began. So, the moment her case was closed and she’d been led away from her audience with the Court, she’d not wasted a second. 

And still—and still—there were five defenders already after her.

“Let’s get this over with then,” she muttered to herself and pressed the speed as far down as it would, shooting off and up. Faster than any take-off she’d ever done before, but, then again, she’d never taken off with her life on the line.

The defenders were ready for her jump in momentum, and they gunned their engines, too. Mina tapped the left half of her visionshield. While the right side stayed clear so she could still see ahead, the other side flickered to life. She’d installed the hybrid monitor as a cool, high-tech upgrade to the cockpit last year. Streaming into it was input from three different cameras she’d also installed at that time. One camera per wing and another atop the hull. All great for giving her eyes on angles she otherwise might be more blind to.

Great for letting her know she’d need to implement some tricky maneuvers to either shake these other ships or stop being so directly in their line of fire. To do both things would be even better. But how? How did she want to go about that?

She had to dip down, had to risk going lower to buy time. To buy air space and divert attention and dupe these pilots following after her. Everyone knew Anteria produced the best flyers, but only if those flyers were trained by instructors who knew where to go. Really, there was only one place, if you wanted to put your student to the test. Mina’s father had been one of those instructors.

He’d sit there in the copilot’s chair of this very craft, and he’d say, “If you can fly the Stones, you can fly anywhere.”

So, where, then, did he make his daughter put her skills into best practice? 

Mina made a sharp hook through the air, appearing to be turning back but not quite. It was sharp enough that two of the defenders had to over-correct themselves and get back in their order. Thanks to her monitor, she could keep an eye on all of them, notice how they took sudden change and adapted, and it was the lead ship that gave her more than a little pause. She’d noticed that they hadn’t needed any time to readjust to follow after her. It was almost like they’d anticipated where she’d want to go. Like they knew she was a master of the Stones and would make an escape route over the minefield that was their terrain.

Only one defensive flyer knew her that well, and she hoped against hope that he wasn’t part of this pursuit.

Zooming, darting, away from the Interior Hub of Starrfĕld, Mina’s ship—The Shepherd’s Eye—was mostly a blur of dark blue to those on the ground. Dipping around the penthouse suites of skyscrapers and firms. Weaving in and out of tight corridors between buildings. Sky traffic was a touch too light to use that to her advantage, but she made a reckless swoop through the lanes that opened up before her, anyway. Anything to whittle out the lesser-skilled fliers behind her. 

Still not letting up on her speed, Mina, one hand on the controls and one hand shooting up to the overhead console, punched a new series of buttons. Sent new messaging through her ship’s system to garble its static output. This wouldn’t remove her from other ships’ radars, but it would muddle their reception and, therefore, the exact placement of her, as their equipment could detect it. It would make firing with any accuracy impossible. There remained a chance she could be hit, if they took a shot, but it’d be a gamble. And flying this low around so many commercial, industrial, and residential structures nearly guaranteed it was a gamble the defenders would be hesitant to take.

So, on she went. Leaving the Hub for the Sprawls and out past those last ebbs of what Starrfĕlders deemed civilization. Now dense, vibrant foliage carpeted the earth below her. This was the patch of sky that might prove the most fatal because it offered her no shields, no obstacles to skate and skirt around. The tallest trees grew too thickly together for it to be anything but a stupid risk for her to attempt a lower altitude.

And, even as she was sweating at the exposure she’d flown herself into, the Stones rose up before her on the horizon.

The sight of the Stones called to mind an image, clear as day, of the last time Mina had seen her father, and she wished she would remember something else. Something healthier and stronger. Something full of vitality. For that’s who he’d been all his life, up until the end. It was only in his last year he’d fallen ill.

General Aaron’s reputation preceded him wherever he went. His battle record, the number of ships he’d shot down, the authority he commanded, and the respect he garnered. There was no one Mina herself respected more, but, to her, he was first and foremost her father. Her flying instructor and imparter of wisdom and lore-teller. The man who’d woken her up one morning, brought her down to the air strip, and presented her with this very ship, though it’d been in rough shape back then. He could have easily given her the latest model of craft and taken her flying right then. But he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d found a ship that’d needed work so he could teach her how to understand the mechanics and intricacies of a craft. So she could learn that what a person could do in the sky depended entirely on the work they did on the ground. The Shepherd’s Eye had been stenciled onto its side, and he’d patted it, saying, “Your first lesson starts today.”

Her father was a busy man. His presence was required at meetings of strategy, assemblies offered on behalf of visiting dignitaries, in secret rooms where confidential discussions were had that she could only guess at. Any time of leisure granted to him was spent with her then, teaching and teaching and yet more teaching. Until he was satisfied with her knowledge and wanted to push her capabilities in the air.

He’d pulled no punches. Commanded she take them to real training ground. The toughest training ground. While she’d been scared and tried not to show out, he’d sat calmly as the copilot and knew, despite the fear he sensed, she could fly it. That she’d master this forsaken field unscathed.

They said the Stones were fallen stars. Mighty, ancient masses from the heavens that ran out of light. Instead of imploding, they fell. Gave themselves over to gravity and made the plunge to be earth-bound. Mina had never liked the thought that there were two alternatives for those beautiful, twinkling orbs up above: oblivion or limitation. Never to be counted among the greater galaxy’s night again. Never to be up and above.

Not all of the stars were wedged into the ground, sticking up as hazardous points. An intriguing mystery that some of Anteria’s quickest minds puzzled over was why, in the case of many fallen rocks, did they hang suspended in midair? What kept them there? And why, also with no explanation, did some of them plummet after having floated there for years and years?

For that was the danger of the Stone field—all could appear stable until it decidedly wasn’t. Debris was known to fall away, landing with such force anything caught beneath it was crushed. The Stones, so large, could move with such sudden speed that even the best flying reflexes couldn’t skirt the collision zone in time. You wove in and around these hulking masses at the very real risk of your own life. 

That was precisely where Mina directed her ship, knowing that, if she could make it through this field once more, she could make it out past the last layers of atmosphere and into whatever this fresh exile would hold for her.

A glance at her radar and at the footage streaming through the monitor had her counting all five ships entering the Stones with her.

It was out here while they were flying that her father had told his youngest daughter about his other daughter. The sister Mina’d had when she was but a little girl, too young to know much about where she went or why she’d gone. Too young to fully know just what she was missing due to her sister’s absence, yet knowing enough now, as a young woman, to grasp that she’d been robbed.

It was out here that the first trickles of conspiracy began to take root.

“Our family has always done great service for the Imperial City,” her father had once started a lesson that way, referring to Anteria by that nickname, “but there are those today who wish to blot out our dedicated lineage. The truths about what we’ve done to honor our home.”

She hadn’t understood then, being but eleven years old and more focused on making sure she was paying attention for whatever lesson would come out of this monologue that he’d test her on later.

“I have given my life, as my father and his father and his father before that gave theirs, in the name of all this planet has stood for and was built upon. We have not been cowards in this greater galaxy. We have not wavered in the face of brutalities and inhumanity. Our family was gifted True Sight at the dynasty’s founding, and what was once a gift has now become a burden.”

“True Sight?” she’d asked. “What does that mean? What can you see?”

Immediately, her mind conjured images of invisible creatures and beings that, all this time, she’d been blind to, but her father cut her imagination off short by saying, “The truth. And you will see it, too, when you go looking for it. But you must be careful, Mina, to let no one know what you’re after until you have the right power to make any moves. I once tried to teach these very things to your sister, but it all came down around her. I don’t intend to be short-sighted with you. I will do better, by you, this time.”

Thus, she learned that that figure from her very smallest girlhood, the one that was vague yet shimmered with the tiniest remembrances of affection, had a name. It was Lethia, and she’d grown into her Sight with a vengeance. She’d held truth in her hands, but she hadn’t had the power General Aaron spoke of. So, she’d been lost to them. What had happened to her had never been revealed, but Mina understood what her father’s words implied. Death came for everyone, even those who could see it coming.

The ghost of her sister was a cautionary tale to Mina, and her father, never having been more serious in any conversation with her, told her she’d need to use her Sight wisely, carefully, when the time came.

Mina wanted to know what it was her sister had uncovered, but it was too dangerous to discuss. Her father dared not breathe a word of it, and he hardly spoke of Lethia, except for rare moments when it was just the two of them in the cockpit. 

Only as General Aaron had laid upon his death bed had he mentioned his lost daughter, and his last words to the daughter who held his hand right then and there were, “Find her.”

Because, in the end, he’d never believed she was beyond their reach. 

So, Mina had gone looking. Poking around and peeling back layers of things she knew better to stay out of. But, when you start to see what’s really going on around you, you can’t look away. You can’t un-see it. Suddenly, incriminating evidence began to pile up. The disappearance of her sister. The untimely illness and premature withering away of her father, that beloved general who had given so much for his city. 

And Mina. The powers that be came for her, too, and now she was running. Fleeing for an exile she didn’t know what to do with.

As she swerved through a route she had memorized years ago and had flown more times than she could count, a voice came through her speakers. A voice she’d long known and had not wanted to believe could be in the lead defender behind her.

Only, it wasn’t antagonistic speech they uttered. Rather, it was a dire and desperate urging: “Mina, get out of here. I know you can fly faster through here, so do it. I’ll deal with my formation, and you just go.”

She was quick to select the right feature that would broadcast herself back to his ship. “Jandos, what are you thinking? Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Too late,” he said, and that was the only warning she had before, through her monitor, she saw the lead ship jet up into the sky at a steep angle and whip around.

“Jandos!”

Damn it all, she thought. Every strategy she’d been trying to piece together fell apart with the presence of her oldest friend. Her one friend. The only person she’d risked telling the simplest, most convoluted secret to that’d keyed him into the fact that she was up to something. But nothing more than that because she didn’t want anyone to face ramifications for her choices.

Yet, there he was, turning on his own fliers for her sake.

The sound of ballistics came to her then loud and clear, and she jerked on her controls, giving up, for the moment, on her escape route. She had to turn around for him because she wouldn’t leave him to his folly, though it might cost her. She just knew her escape couldn’t come at the price of his life. A second later she’d fired on one of the defenders, clipping a wing and sending it tumbling.

“I told you,” Jandos’s voice coming through again, “to get out of here!”

“And I told you,” she threw back, “not to do anything stupid! Watch your ten!”

A warning that couldn’t have been more opportune, for Mina had heard the groaning noise that prefaced debris dislodging from a Stone. She’d rigged her radar to light up with a splash of color in the region where the sonic irregularity sounded from. It wasn’t only skills that got you through the Stones but the right tools, too.

Unfortunately, for a second ship, they couldn’t see what was coming, and while Jandos swooped away from the plunging rock, they were caught up beneath it. Not even a hard slam on the eject button could save them now.

That left two ships to either evade or eliminate, and already there’d been too much collateral for Mina’s taste. So, she said, “We can out-run them, Jandos. We don’t have to fight.”

“I’ll follow your lead, Mina.”

Away they went, Jandos trusting Mina’s training to get them out of there and away from this mine field. It said something about the quick turn of events, the loss of the two defenders, and the danger the Stones posed, that the last two pursuers pulled back, declined to engage further. Just what they were thinking by the defection of their leader was anyone’s guess. Stunned, probably. Jandos had been sired and raised in a family known for its loyalty to the dynasty. Then again, so had Mina.

On and on and on they flew until they could go up and up and up and out. Mina watched as they rose in altitude and noted the change in exterior pressure. Exile, which she’d not thought she’d be this thankful for until she thought she might not live to reach it, was within her grasp.

Within their grasp because there was no doubt that her friend had just subjected himself to the same fate as hers. What had he been thinking? Why had he done it?

She asked him that over their intercoms after they’d breached Anteria’s outer-most atmospheric layer and idled in the sudden calm of space. Their ships were pulled up beside each other’s, and she peered out at him through her vision shield. 

“Why?” she asked. “Why did you do that?”

He’d given her a little smile and asked a question of his own: “You don’t think I’d really leave you to search for your sister alone, did you?”

With all the scope her Sight had given her over the last few years, she hadn’t seen this coming, but she was grateful. It was enough, even in her exile, even with all her seeking, to know she wouldn’t have to be alone.