thing went high, higher than them there clouds,” he’d said, pointing past the Reach at a row of muddy orange clouds in the twilight. “Not a flyer, me. No sir. I’m glad those things are gone. Happy to stay on the ground, old Damen.”
Ursie decided that perhaps she was in the same camp. The large bubble window that afforded her an expansive view of the world below had been exhilarating at first, but now the scales were tilting toward outright intimidation. She suddenly didn’t want to be reminded of how high she was, how far above the Earth this dilapidated craft was speeding as it clung to the scant tether of the Wire.
She reached out for the small terminal screen that was attached to an extendable arm, drawing it in front of her. She needed a diversion, something to take her mind off things. The edges of the screen were cracked and flimsy, and tiny chunks of plastic broke off in her hand as she gripped it. Grimacing, she swiped her fingers across the screen in an attempt to turn it on, but nothing happened. She felt around its edges for an activation button, but there was nothing.
She shoved it away again, disgusted. She had to remind herself that the Reach had been a military installation, and that the railcar had been built to ferry personnel into space. Perhaps they had thought it unnecessary to install an entertainment system into the capsules.
Or perhaps she had just been unlucky enough to be given a capsule where the screen didn’t work.
As she sat there trying to figure out a way to occupy her thoughts, she realised there was something else that was nagging her. She’d actually grown to like Knile during their time together. She respected his resourcefulness, his tenacity, and his cleverness. And as she’d gently probed at his mind during their journey, she had detected some of that positivity directed back at her as well. They’d developed a kind of kinship as they’d ascended the Reach together.
Knile liked Ursie and had begun to care for her wellbeing. It saddened her to think that she couldn’t remember the last time someone had thought that way about her.
And then at the end of it all Ursie had betrayed him, double-crossing the one person with whom she’d formed any kind of affinity in the past few years. It filled her with a sense of self-loathing to realise that, in the end, he had come to recognise that she was nothing but a liar and a thief.
What a crushing disappointment that must have been for him.
And yet, as she’d pushed out toward him with her mind one last time, she had found no animosity within him. He’d accepted what had happened, holding no grudge toward her, realising that she had merely outplayed him in the game in which everyone on Earth was involved – the game of leaving that dying world behind.
Forget about that. It’s in the past. Your future is waiting at the end of this ride.
Her future. The thought of it almost allowed her to push her recollections of Knile Oberend out of her mind. She still knew relatively little about what was going to happen to her once this railcar reached its destination. As he’d helped her into the capsule, the man in the aviators had said something to her that she now recalled quite clearly:
See you in six hours.
Or at least, that’s what she thought he had said, right before he’d taken his place in a capsule of his own not far away.
Did it really take that long to travel to the top of the Wire? And what would the man have in store for her once they disembarked?
Whatever happened, it was going to be something new. Something exciting. That was worth just a little optimism, she figured, enough to make her cracked lips turn up at the edges in a little smile.
She closed her eyes and let herself sink further into the folds of the chair.
This was the beginning of her new life.
With that thought circling in her mind, Ursie finally found a sense of contentment, and with it came