Fire and Ice

Chapter 22 † Kayleigh

Andrej and Mikhail. My team.

A thousand questions flit through my thoughts, but disappear as I'm about to grab them, leaving my mind blank.

Are they still alive? Is this a message?

I stare through everyone sitting there as I try to process.

Why did they leave a mildly threatening message?

I hear someone yelling in the distance, but I can't zone myself back in.

Not yet.

[][][]

"Kayleigh!" I yell again, launching off the couch I was sitting on and around the table, smacking my shin on the low edge. My leg barks in pain as I slide up to her, scanning. Her face looks... broken. Like it did that first night when I told her that her team was far older than her. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar, her eyes unseeing and blank, none of the usual spark behind the bronze.

"Kayleigh?" Petra says gently, wiggling her arm to get her to come back. Her eyes slowly drift to me. And focus, burning a hole through my forehead. She shakes her head gently as though to clear her vision and then takes a deep breath in.

"Sorry," she whispers vacantly, looking up and glancing at all of us. "It's a lot of information to take in," she says more firmly. Petra is still holding onto her arm. I get up and take the seat beside Kayleigh, glancing at Petra as I do.

"Forgive me if this seems out of place, but I don't know we're thinking of the same organization," she says, eyes narrowing to burn a hole through the cheese.

"It is," says Dink. "That's their insignia."

"Why break in? Why plant cameras to follow Ender specifically?"

"Maybe they wanted to see if it was really you?" Bean offers with a small shrug.

"It's a shitty way to go about doing that," Petra declares, still clearly upset at Kayleigh's distressed state.

"Well said," Kayleigh responds to Petra. "They left me a message. It said 'Your name may be Bright but you'll never be smart enough to catch us.'" Dink looks taken aback.

"That's... not right," Tom concedes.

"Is it possible that another organization is masquerading as Pour la Sauver?" Alai asks. Hot Soup nods.

"I wouldn't put it past them. Pour La Sauver has been hunted since the second war, constant being forced into hiding by all three prosecuting governments at one point or another. They probably think that since they're so widely hunted it would be easy to place blame on them," he rushes out. I think that is the most words I've ever heard come from Hot Soup.

"Good point," Petra states.

"Then I guess I better get crackin' on the hackin'," Kayleigh says, probably as a joke. No one laughed.

[][][]

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Petra asks. "We can't just not fight battles. And what about the pilots and squadron leaders? Do they get to know?"

"From my understanding they don't even know I'm awake," Kayleigh says.

"I can get word out covertly and ask who wants in," Bean offers. Kayleigh considers for a second.

"Fine. But make sure they understand the ramifications. Don't tell anyone who isn't willing to die anything."

"What!?" I ask incredulously.

"Why would we be concerned about dying?" Fly asks defensively. Kayleigh sighs deeply and presses her middle fingers into her temples.

"It's the nature of what we're doing," she says gently. "Your lives are already at risk from the enemies. But the IF is protecting us for now. We have to get them to take out whatever this unknown organization is before we essentially turn around and stab them in the back."

"Is there any way we could, say, oh I don't know, not stab them in the back?" Tom asks.

"Yeah. They just want to protect Earth, even if they're misguided in the way they go about it," Alai points out. Kayleigh smiles without smiling and looks up, something small and melancholic welling up in her eyes. Her team I realize. We remind her of her team. My heart sags in that instant, hurt with pain I can't imagine.

"Exactly," she says, her features blanking, but I hear something small crack in her voice. I glance at Petra and see that she too looks sorrowful on Kayleigh's behalf while the others remain oblivious. "I think I might have a solution." Her voice steadies with every word, a plan taking shape in her eyes.

"Back on Earth there are two very influential political net-writers who go by the pseudonyms Locke and Demosthenes. People rally under them. I'll need to get into contact with them and see what they think are good ideas."

"How are you going to do that?" I ask. Kayleigh grins mischievously.

"I'm going to show up on their doorstep."