Flight Imperative

By C.A. Masterson

Zadie Thurgood’s the best. That’s why she’s well on her way toward becoming the first female security officer to achieve Level One.
It’s also why Merrimack Enterprises wants her dead. Their secrets are expensive, and Zadie’s going to pay – with her freedom. After her partner’s murder, she’s framed and sent to Merrimack Port. In a prison run by men, female friendships become lifelines in a real sense. Escape becomes imperative after two visits: a Merrimack official who wants to kill her, and a reporter who reveals secrets about Merrimack even she hadn’t guessed.
Can Zadie trust her new friends not to betray her? Or will her past mistakes follow her into the future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.A. Masterson
• Release date: Oct 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463505199

C.A. Masterson

C.A. Masterson loves stories of any genre. Her novellas, short stories and flash fiction appeared at various epress sites and web zines (The Battered Suitcase, A Long Story Short, Dark Sky Magazine, Cezanne’s Carrot, The Harrow, Flesh from Ashes, Quality Women’s Fiction, Phase, and The Writer’s online edition).In 2010, The Pearl S. Buck Foundation awarded first place to her short literary story, Christmas Eve at the Diner on Rathole Street. Her short literary story, All is Calm, All is Bright, was awarded second place in the annual Pennwriters Short Story contest in 2005.Look for her at http://paintingfirewithwords.blogspot.com, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

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Flight Imperative

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C.A. Masterson

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Flight Imperative

Copyright © 2019 by C.A. Masterson

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06.05.2371

"There once was a girl, my grandmother said, holding me in the sacred circle of her embrace, who had the most beautiful almond-shaped eyes, brown as the earth, and her hair flowed from her head in a waterfall of silken ebony."

"Like mine?" I always asked, looking into the clear grey of her eyes, shining as if lit from within. A glow gilded her cocoa skin with a golden sheen. Darkness edged the corners of the room, but my grandmother’s light rendered it powerless.

"Exactly like yours. She rubbed my arms and squeezed, as if to ingrain the story within me. She spoke slowly, deliberately, and her words etched like ancient scrimshaw on my bones, and echoed in my heart. The girl was small, but she could do anything she put her mind to."

I held myself away from her warmth, her unconditional love, to peer at her askance. Anything?

"Anything. Quiet strength radiated from my grandmother, shining up from weary muscles, rising through her shoulders, her neck and jaw, to turn to regal steel in her face. Do you know why?"

Oh, I knew. I’d heard this same story a thousand nights. Still, I asked, Why?

She pulled me closer and gently rocked. Because of the stories she told herself. No matter who might try to stop her from doing what she wanted to do, or what she loved to do, or what she knew in her heart she absolutely had to do, she told herself she could succeed. And you know what?

"What?" I whispered, knowing but needing to hear again. And again.

"She went ahead and did it. She proved them all wrong." Every word rang with the timbre of truth.

"She was amazing." Someone I could barely imagine as real.

"She was the same as you. My grandmother looked at me hard when she said this part. She made me believe. She just made up her mind to succeed. To take ownership of her life story."

When I nodded, she went on. Because each one of us has a life story, and we must be the writers of the best story we can make it. She gathered me closer to her. None of us know what obstacles we’ll face along our paths. You must tell yourself you’re strong enough to triumph over anything, and you will be. Never forget that, Zadie. Have faith, sweet girl.

I snuggled deeper into her arms and wished I could stay there forever. I’ll remember.

I repeated the words like a prayer until they pulsed deep in my heart.

06.05.2391

Mornings like this reminded me of why I loved my insignificant little life, and this tiny, lost planet. The click of the dual heliwheels locking into place, the whir of the blades lifting the Harley helicycle into the air… a thrill always followed. I let my heart soar in tandem with the Harley as I rose seamlessly into the tiers of traffic overhead.

I maneuvered the gauntlet of morning rush hour traffic like a bee buzzing through a genetically engineered flower garden. At least it lightened my spirits enough to forget what awaited—my job. I used to think of it as my dream career but lately, it seemed more a nightmare. But hey, we all had problems, and mine were miniscule in comparison to others’. Here on Jerseyana, people followed the rules, or disappeared. The only way to rise above was to play the game.

A shiny black wall of metal squashed that thought. Nearly shuttle-sized, the vehicle cut ahead of my front cylinder blades, missing by mere inches, and then zoomed forward. The rush of wind tilted up the Harley’s front and slammed into me, jolting me back on the seat. My heart revved as the cycle’s twin blade wells see-sawed, adjusting to regain balance. For a terrifying instant, panic had my reflexes on lockdown while traffic streamed past me, some close enough to rock the cycle again. I gripped the bars tighter and surfed the wakes of air current. The black vehicle dodged around cars and trucks, speeding faster.

A Hummer J2. I’d always wanted to see one up close, but not by becoming a smear on the bumper. Among the fleet of battered, outdated transports driven by all Jerseyanians, the Hummer stood out as an arrogant intruder.

Once I had the Harley—and my heart—stabilized, I gunned the helicycle into high speed.

Siren. At my command, the blue glow on my wrist device flashed red and triggered an ear-splitting wail through an amp on my handlebars.

I sped up to the Hummer’s tail. The vehicle slowed to a hover, then eased to the ground.

Shouldn’t mess with the bee if you don’t want to get stung.

I had my stinger at the ready—my Memphisville government-issue LaserGlock strapped to my side. I tapped it, a touchstone to reality as my boots crunched along the gritty street to the driver’s side.

The driver leaned an expensively suited elbow casually against the open window. The gloss of his black suit matched the Hummer’s finish.

The man stared ahead from behind stylish sunglasses. Silver streaked his dark hair, longish for his age and obvious wealth.

No one in the three territories owned such a high-end vehicle, so he must have stowed it on his transport shuttle. A man of power, no doubt, who was used to having things his way. It came through in his bearing, some primal strength pawing just beneath the surface of his cool demeanor, and in his gaze, which trailed across me with an attitude that demanded, Bow to me, peon.

Problem, officer? He spoke with a haughtiness that oozed attitude.

I was damn tired of off-worlders who looked down on our rules.

I kept my expression a mask of cold justice. I could ask you the same. You nearly knocked me out of the sky back there. Sir.

When I spoke, he jerked his head around, tipped his sunglasses down his nose and took a long, slow look at me, head to toe.

My lip instinctively curled, and my blood threatened to boil over. Still, tingling trailed down my neck, a warning that put me on edge. Something about this man set off silent alarm bells in my head.

His gaze flicked to my LED badge across my chest pocket, which read 5-8-3 with THURGOOD below. Memphisville residents knew the numbers as shorthand for Precinct 5, Sector 8, Security Level Three.

The man grunted. I didn’t recognize you as security.

Predators smelled fear, so I smiled as pleasantly as I could and made my voice silky-smooth. The siren didn’t give me away? Or the uniform?

A glance back at my Harley, and a chuckle grumbled deep in his chest. That’s not the standard-issue security vehicle. Unless you’re a renegade? His smirk and arched brow said he hoped I was.

I dropped all pretense of humor. Not a chance.

Pity. His huff of a laugh said he’d aimed for that sore spot.

He was obviously aware that the three territories of Jerseyana were marred by protests, sometimes bloody, always launched by the same group—Warriors for Peace. Members targeted politicians and security enforcement. Because they didn’t care who got caught in the cross-fire, I had no great love for the group, either.

He turned forward and flicked a finger toward the river of vehicles whizzing by. I’m late for a meeting.

This asshole was scoring all kinds of points—against him. But he was right, the sooner we got this over with, the sooner we both could move on. I’ll need your wrist device.

I refused to refer to the product name, ME2, so put up with the irritating pretend-confusion during such stops. I abhorred what the acronym stood for. Technically, Merrimack Enterprises, with the number two added to make it cutesy, but the ME2 name also reflected that the device held every bit of information about a person. Safeguarded by Merrimack Enterprises as if it were their own, if you could believe their vid ads. Company execs had their greedy little hands in too many pots. No one would admit as much. Not above a whisper, anyway.

Officer… He rolled his hand in the air, prompting me to fill in the blank, though he’d read my badge already.

I played along with his game. Thurgood. My name would automatically transfer in the ticket along with all information about the incident. Just as soon as he leaned his damn arm out the window.

Officer Thurgood, he repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound.

The way he said my name made my stomach churn.

He tipped his sunglasses lower, his dark eyes piercing though they held the hint of a twinkle. Are you even officially on duty?

Pathetic last attempt to get around the law. You made me late, so yes. I am now. Please display your wrist device, sir. If he wanted to contest the penalty, he could do so later to someone else. I didn’t want to hear it.

With a heavy sigh, he held out his arm, yanked up his designer suit sleeve to reveal a sleek black device wrapped around his wrist. Nice. So he could plenty afford one little fine.

I tapped a code into the worn-out device adorning my wrist, then scanned mine against his. A beep signaled the transaction had completed, an instant deduction of credits from his account. I checked the display to see who he was. Clive Davenport. A chill hit my blood. That name rang a bell, and it didn’t have a sweet ring to it.

Please drive more carefully, sir. Have a pleasant day. I took two steps back, dismissing him.

He flashed a cold smile. I have a feeling mine will be much more pleasant than yours.

I take pride in my job, sir. And I have the power of right on my side. My insulation from petty threats.

Incredulity dripped from his huff. And you think that’s enough? You have a lot to learn, Thurgood.

He revved the Hummer, then sliced back into the flow of airborne vehicles. I had the strange sensation that the shadow of a dragon had passed overhead. My skin turned to gooseflesh until his vehicle passed into the shadows of a skyway arch and disappeared from view. Across the skyway’s span, a wide projection screen flashed a new vid-ad for Merrimack Enterprises’ latest wrist device. Something about the vid rattled me.

I purposely turned my back to shake off whatever nonsense gripped me, and strode back to my helicycle.

Just another day in Memphisville, and no matter how well dressed, he was just another jerk angling to skirt the law. Security officers scraped the scum off the underbelly of the city. Sometimes off the top, too.

Straddling my cycle, it hit me. Clive Davenport. The name rang a bell all right—an alarm. He was the CFO at Merrimack Enterprises. Oh man, I’d hear about this one.

Why had Davenport come to Jerseyana? Surely not to merely wave Merrimack’s forced benevolence in front of people’s faces, though the corporate execs loved to remind us backward Jerseyanians how our partially-colonized planet was a lawless, violent place until Merrimack Enterprises stepped in. Under the guise of establishing a used goods business, the company insinuated itself into the structure of society by helping to design a zero-tolerance society and repressing any who stepped out of line. Word had it that the company slipped perks to security heads who promoted their products, and eliminated those who didn’t play by their game.

And I wasn’t exactly the type to abide by stacked rules. That probably didn’t bode well for either Davenport or me.

I steadied myself before merging with the rush of vehicles. If anyone but Patricia Yunker was captain of my precinct, I’d be worried about unfair blowback. Yunker was my mentor. Stricter than most, but she had to be to keep her team in line.

I’d worked my ass off to get to Security Level Three. Any other captain would push me back to Level Four with one press of a button. The drive to reach Level One was a hunger burning inside me, pushing me through every miserable day. After losing everything else in the world that meant anything to me, I wouldn’t settle for less.

But Yunker wasn’t one to bend to pressure.

I steered my Harley toward the large number 27 that marked the precinct’s open parking floor and cruised until I found an out-of-the-way spot safe from potential dings. This baby might be someone’s discarded helicycle but she was my one luxury, my sole joy. After stowing my helmet in the side compartment, I released a silent sigh. When Grandmama had told me her stories, not once had she mentioned that I’d have to prove everyone else wrong every single day.

***

No sooner had I stepped off the tube, I knew the shit had already hit the fan. Captain Yunker stood in the aisle with boots planted wide, hands on hips.

I lifted my chin and strode right up to her, hoping the bulldog expression that matched her squared shoulders was a show for the other officers.

"Are you insane?" Each word was louder than the last.

At times I considered the possibility, but I wouldn’t admit that to her. No, sir. Just doing my job.

Your job does not include harassing interplanetary visitors. Especially important business people like Clive Davenport. Her glare said this reprimand was not for show, and I stood no chance of winning this argument.

Sometimes I wished surrender was part of my nature. I clenched my jaw to stop myself from saying, Funny, I thought all citizens were equally important. Now didn’t appear to be the time to point out that fact. He almost knocked me out of the sky, sir.

Her glare cooled, but Yunker’s lips thinned to a hard line. Or you weren’t watching where you were going.

The shock of the small betrayal took me aback. Sir—

The incident’s been wiped. Turning away, she waved dismissively. You’re late, Thurgood. Get to work.

Anger boiled up until my skull nearly burst. Yunker knew full well I didn’t write up offenses simply to fill my monthly score card. That fast, Davenport had gotten to her.

Apparently, insanity was contagious.

I did the only thing I could—I shook off the disappointment before it ate me alive.

I couldn’t wait to get out on patrol. You ready, Hardesty?

Tom sat on a table edge in a huddle with the guys, catching up on the latest. Not, I was certain, regarding the security status of Sector 8. Oh, they made a good enough show of glancing up at the transparent screens lining the wall beside them, the occasional blink of red indicating a possible security violation on the three-dimensional grid of buildings and streets.

A scan showed little activity on the grid, nothing to warrant their extended observation. I knew he’d heard me, but Tom barely looked over.

Some partner.

I hid a frustrated sigh by humming a catchy tune. My self-narrated story of success was turning into a twisted fairy tale. Believing I could positively impact a society bound by strict rules was what got me into all this. For all I knew, I was just mucking things up worse for people. Especially myself.

I headed for the tubes. My turn to drive, Hardesty.

That brought a round of testosterone-fueled guffaws, and remarks muttered just below audible level. At least got Tom on his feet. I pressed the up arrow.

The tube whooshed open. Tom slipped inside beside me a second before the cylinder closed. Two people could fit in the narrow space, but not without some forced intimacy.

I wished for about the thousandth time that they’d constructed the damn thing of old-school metal, anything besides crystal-clear plexisteel so I wouldn’t have to see their mugs twisted into sly smiles as Tom jostled me against the compartment wall.

Smile, Thurgood. Tomorrow’s Friday.

Carving more space for myself with an elbow, I quirked an eyebrow. Woo. Hoo.

He leaned against the rail and crossed a leg, all casual confidence. C’mon, don’t be like that. The guys were having a little fun, that’s all.

Fun. He’d never admit their jokes came at my expense. Neither would I.

Yeah, fun. You should try it sometime.

At five foot nine, I stood nearly eye to eye with him. He had more brute bulk, but I trained harder than he did. I could take him down, easy peasy. Erasing his smug smile would be great fun.

The tube slid to a stop and the cylinder opened at 17F. Our patrol vehicle, a twenty-year-old SkyCar, was outdated, but everything was as soon as it hit the Jerseyana market—leftovers doled out from the Big Four. Theronos, Tevegas, Yorkos, Columbiana. The major planets, where everyone dreamed of living.

On Jerseyana, a twenty-year-old vehicle was considered state of the art. Grandmama Mahea used to laugh when she told me how our planet came to be so named. In 2089, Earth had become overburdened with people. To relieve the strain on resources, poor people from every nation were rounded up and sent into space, every transport ship aimed for a different planet. My great-great and great grandparents, originally from Memphis, Tennessee, landed on the planet dubbed Jerseyana because it was the armpit of the galaxy.

But with hard work, the people colonized the planet. Over time, the long arm of the law had tightened into an iron fist to quell the general chaos. Through shrewd trading, Merrimack Enterprises re-introduced technology by buying up the scrapped junk other planets didn’t want and retooling them into working vehicles, gadgets and electronics. Not state-of-the-art, but reliable. Jerseyana proved the irony false by becoming a respected colony of three territories.

A hot, dry gust of air whipped through the platform, so I wasted no time. A quick scan of my wrist device against the door panel and it opened upward. I climbed inside the SkyCar and with another scan of my wrist device against the ignition, the electric engine whirred. The dash gauges blinked to life. I strapped myself in and grabbed the stick.

Tom eased onto the seat and grimaced out the window. Nice weather.

If you find dim and grungy appealing. I jammed the stick to the right and the car slid horizontally and hovered seventeen stories above the street.

You really need to lighten up, Thurgood.

I waited for the vehicle to announce, All clear before slamming the stick forward. Tom’s head jerked back against the seat.

I laughed. You’re right, Hardesty.

He surprised me by laughing, too.

When we were out on patrol, I honestly didn’t mind having Tom as a partner. True, he wasn’t half as good an officer as Jimmy had been, but no one in the squadron could fill those boots. I had to set aside my grief at losing the best partner I’d ever hoped for and move on. This world waited for no one. The captain could have cursed me with one of the other morons, so I was grateful for small favors. They were about the only kind I got anyway.

Tom aimed a wide grin at me. I knew you only pretended to be tough.

Lord save me from fools and lunatics. Don’t give away my secret, Hardesty. If only he’d stop acting like he was the answer to every woman’s prayer, he’d be easier to tolerate. Besides, I’d given up praying long ago, especially about men. If whatever gods ruled the Universe couldn’t answer my sole prayer to return the only man I’d ever loved, then I wouldn’t bother asking.

An alert blipped on the dash monitor. The code for a robbery in progress flashed, at 110A Garden Complex. Just as quickly, the alert vanished.

What was that? I kept checking, but the alert didn’t repeat.

A chime, and Hardesty checked his wrist device, then gave a hollow laugh. Must have been a glitch.

Then why did his casual tone sound strained?

We’d better make sure. I pulled back on the stick. The patrol car rose above the city.

He sent me a weird glance. No, ignore it.

My gut told me to ignore him instead. I slammed the stick ahead and we zoomed away.

I said ignore it. Fuck. Hardesty flicked the com button on his wrist device to call the precinct. Hardesty and Thurgood, en route to 110A Garden Complex. Verify alert please.

Negative, came the immediate command. Do not respond. Repeat, do not respond.

But we were already there. So were the intruders. Four men in black jumpsuits, helmets still attached. Four helicycles sat askew to the side of the first floor entrance, out of view of those within.

Negative, my ass. Technology, especially the second-hand kind, had a bad habit of malfunctioning. I wasn’t about to be responsible for innocent citizens getting harmed on my watch.

I set the car down on the street. My door was already opening as we landed with a clunk. I stepped out, weapon in hand.

Thurgood, stand down, Hardesty called after me, surprisingly authoritative.

Apparently, he was sitting this one out. Four to one—not the greatest odds, but I’d encountered worse. Advancing on the scene, I hit the linkup button on my wrist device. Officer Thurgood requesting backup. 110A Garden Complex. Four suspects. Verify.

A string of muttered curses. You were advised not to respond. Turn back now.

I didn’t recognize the dispatcher’s voice. You don’t understand. All four men are armed. People inside are in danger.

This is a direct order, the man said. Turn back. Now.

Who the hell was that? Since when did I follow orders from a rookie? Is it some sort of training exercise? Sometimes the advanced Academy students played out real-life scenarios. No one inside appeared to be acting. The unmasked people had their hands raised. Their wide-eyed, tight-lipped expressions on pale faces indicated they feared for their lives. If this was routine training, someone forgot to inform them.

Swift footsteps came up behind me. I glanced back. Relief swept over me. Hardesty. Thank God. Still assessing the situation, I said into my wrist device, but it’s definitely critical.

Hey, Thurgood!

Aggravation jerked my head backward again. He was coming at me hard. Instinct pulled back my arm in a defensive punch. He thrust up his forearms to block me, and the impact knocked me sideways. Pain jolted me as my skull whacked the wall. Black stars flickered in my vision, then spread across to blot everything out.

***2***

A hum started low, and soon filled my ears. Possibly my brains leaking from my skull, because if the pain were any indication, my head had shattered.

My eyes fluttered open. Hardesty was driving. The patrol car skimmed past another vehicle in mid-air, missing a collision by inches. My stomach somersaulted. A groan rumbled in my throat.

You’re awake. Hardesty smiled over at me.

You… As a rule, I didn’t stoop to profanity. In this case, I made an exception. … fucker! What the fuck, Hardesty? Yelling only magnified the throbbing pain in my head, so I stopped and rubbed the sore spot. Didn’t help.

Orders. It was for your own good.

The asshole actually sounded sincere. I can’t wait to repay the favor.

Yeah, except Yunker is already pissed. You might not want to push your luck.

The throbbing intensified. Pissed about what?

Oh, you ignoring a direct command? He splayed the hand gripping the steering stick. Seems the captain thinks she’s in charge or something.

So not funny. You’re saying Yunker told you to hit me?

We were instructed not to engage. Ours is not to question why, Thurgood.

His typical mode of operation.

Not mine. I was in the middle of the ‘do or die’ bit when you so rudely interrupted.

He looked over at me like an old man admonishing a child. That’s the difference between us. When I’m told not to ‘do’, I don’t.

Yeah, and he’d probably get promoted to the next level before me for that very reason. What the hell was going on? Had the entire territory gone insane?

He winked. Didn’t ask.

I eyed him sideways. Because you already know.

Somber, he stared ahead. The most confirmation I’d get from him.

Where are you taking me? Not to the station. Looked more like my old neighborhood.

Mercy Hospital.

Right. Security protocol demanded a doctor’s approval before an officer could return to work after a knock on the head. Nothing in the rules provided guidelines for when a partner inflicted the wound.

On Alloy Street. I was born there. Stupid time to get nostalgic, and even stupider to share details of my life. I must have hit my head harder than I realized.

Really. Hardesty’s boyish grin returned. What, fifty years ago?

Hilarious, except today I felt more like seventy. Twenty-eight years. A long way from that little girl who jumped off her grandmother’s lap, ready to take on the world and win, the girl who could do anything.

Anything except save my grandmother.

In that short span of time, Memphisville had changed into someplace unrecognizable. Once friendly neighbors who’d call out greetings had become desperate strangers, too fearful to involve themselves in others’ lives. The less anyone knew, the better chance they’d escape arrest should an acquaintance face prosecution.

He floated the patrol car to the emergency entry. I didn’t know you were an older woman, Thurgood.

I was tempted to ask if he was six months my junior, at most, but let his comment ride instead. In every way, Hardesty. Despite my aches, I climbed out without allowing so much as a groan escape.

Hold on, I’ll help you. He jogged around to my side.

I jerked from his grasp. You’ve already done enough. I tried not to hobble as I walked inside on my own power, steeling against the stabs of pain.

An hour later, the doctor released me, but advised me to rest for the day.

Hardesty sat in the waiting area and leapt up to meet me with a sheepish, almost guilty, expression. How are you?

Fine. But doc’s sending me home. I found it difficult to appear noble when I struggled not to slur my words.

He pressed his palms together, the angelic altar boy with beach blond hair. Good. You should take it easy.

Too weird, how my thoughts jumbled. You brought me here?

Of course I did. I was worried about my partner.

What happened?

"Some jerk cut us off