Life Cycle 63

By Just B. Jordan

Dirt encroached on the window, etched into the pane by the force of three hundred fifteen days and twenty thousand wings.

The delascopics tracked Mateo’s target, slowing time within its eyepiece. It was day sixty-three of the planet’s life cycle. Tomorrow would be day one again. Today was their fourth run.

The empty clanking of boots on metal invaded Temerity‘s disfigured bay. Mateo glanced away from the delascopics, silently greeting the rest of his team. Stefek still looked pale and fevered. He distributed specimen jars to the other two. Kiana carried a jagged pole as a cane. Her cybernetic eyes hadn’t survived the shrapnel from their crash. Then there was Farid, who had been their runner. The edges of his splint ticked against the floor like the hands of a cruel clock.

“Rate?” Stefek said.

“Two hundred wingbeats per minute.”

None of them wore enviro suits. Temerity‘s fall had created a breach in its hull, sucking the suits and most of their tools out before they could seal it.

Mateo pulled stale, filtered air through his nose. Slow. Steady.

“You’ll have three minutes to gather, at best,” Farid said. “You’re not as fast as I was. Do you remember my map?”

Mateo wouldn’t have time to look at a copy while he ran. “Mental perfect.”

Farid handed him a sack. “Find parts and tools—our provisions can stretch for one more cycle.”

“Rate?” Stefek said.

“One hundred fifty.”

A mound of earth pressed against the outer rim of the window. Temerity had not crashed softly. A stretch of blackened earth extended from her hull, then clusters of rock and a few stubborn tree spines more charcoal than wood. Beyond that, his goal, kissed by the satin blue of sky and everything made of stars.

“Rate?” Stefek whispered.

Mateo kept his gaze trained through the delascopics. Ten thousand black and orange butterflies cut the sky to patches. Their rate per minute lowered, as did the height of their swarm. The churning changed. Softened.

The first one dropped.

Mateo held the delascopics out to Stefek. “Ninety.”

More of the creatures fell. Their wings dusted up grains of old ash, obscuring their colors. Mateo moved to the hangar door.

“Kiana, take soil again,” Stefek said. “Farid, samples of plant life.”

Mateo crouched, leaning forward to brush a knuckle of his glove against Temerity‘s side. “I’ll make it back.” Stale, filtered breaths. Deep. Steady. “Rate?”

“All down. Winds are dead. Environment safe in thirty, twenty nine—”

Mateo closed his eyes. One run. One step closer to healing Temerity.

“Zero.”

The hangar door opened with a squeal of torqued metal. Dirt slid toward Mateo’s shoes. He ran.

Death didn’t chase him. It surrounded him. It was just dormant for the next twenty minutes.

Wings crushed under his feet, their life completed. Mateo only had until the next one began. He tried to calm his heartrate. One mile.

It took eight minutes.

Mateo leaped down a hill, landing amid pieces of Temerity‘s exterior. Some preserved food littered the area. Perishables had rotted months ago. He hurried through twisted lengths of metal, grabbing the provisions in easy reach. He didn’t see a single enviro suit amid the wreckage.

A hint of red. The tech box. Its latch was popped. Mateo’s hands fumbled, searching through the scattered tools, throwing some in his sack. Most of them weren’t critical to Temerity‘s repairs. Then he found a net drive and a coil of unused ebon wire. These, they needed. He slid his arm through the loop of wire so it wouldn’t crush, and turned toward home. Time was closing.

Ten minutes left.

He stepped on a ridged lump. The EL generator. It looked whole.

That could get Temerity working again.

He heaved it out of the earth. It wasn’t large, but it was weighted. His fingers found a handle, and he ran.

Nine minutes to get home.

The sound of paper slowly tearing.

Desperation clawed from Mateo’s throat, pushing him faster. Temerity wasn’t in sight. He was surrounded by plant life dotted with cocoons.

Hundreds of them.

All slowly cracking open.

The barest breeze put a sway in the green of the world. The wind returned, bringing the beginning of this planet’s next life cycle—and the toxins—with it.

Mateo careened out of the forest, into a field of charcoal spines. Temerity.

One minute.

His team stood in the open hangar door, specimens collected and sealed. Stefek and Farid shouted at the sight of the EL generator. They’d all assumed it would be in pieces.

Thirty seconds. The warning pulsed shrill from within Temerity. Stefek had programed its doors to remain open for twenty minutes. No overrides. They would close automatically.

Mateo let go of the generator. A dozen dead butterflies shifted at its impact. Sweat and tears blurred his vision.

His legs seized. He stumbled toward Temerity. Toward home, broken as it was.

Twenty seconds.

Mateo pulled the wire off his arm, dropping it in the sack. He sealed its mouth and threw it.

Five seconds.

The bag cleared the doors, landing at Kiana’s feet.

A screech of metal. A screech of soul.

Mateo stood in a field of ash, looking at dirt etched into a window pane by the force of three hundred fifteen days and twenty thousand wings. There were three faces. All screaming, the thump of their fists reverberating from within Temerity‘s hull.

One hand spread across the glass, as if to feel what she could not see. Mateo stepped forward. His legs burned. His eyes burned.

The air burned.

The distant trees blinked in color—ten thousand newborn butterflies drying their wings on a toxic breeze. Ten yards away, the EL generator.

Mateo pointed at it. His hand shook. “Sixty-three more days.” He felt his lungs corroding. “Then you will have enough power to put our home back in the stars.”

A butterfly landed on his shoulder.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Just B. Jordan was born to live a thousand lives, but she’s only mortal, so she took to telling herself stories. One day she decided to give those worlds flesh and bone through paper and ink. She is the author of the Echofall Rising series.

---

More Stories | Author Website | Facebook | Instagram