A Convenient Lie

“Who do you think we are?” asked Hans, stepping forward angrily. “Though your masters may pride themselves on breaking promises, we commoners, as you so gladly label us, we have dignity.  We follow through on our word.”
The pilot nodded, rearranging his face into one that he hoped resembled contri-tion.  Hans shook his head in disgust.
“Just fly the midship already,” said Dyvell. “The Imperials outside don’t want to damage their precious machine, but I’m sure they’re not above destroying it if it means carrying out their mission.”
Hans glanced out the window of the piloting room and saw that some of the Impe-rials were attempting to crawl onto the roof of the midship.  What they planned to do when they reached the top was uncertain.  The rest of them, directed by the pale faced man that had killed Johnny’s father, were slamming themselves repeatedly against the walls of the ship, apparently trying to knock it over.
Sensing their urgency, the pilot situated himself in his chair and prepared the mid-ship for flight.

Johnny fell backwards from his sitting position as the midship lurched abruptly.  A curious sensation overtook him, and he realized that the midship was lifting off.  The few Imperials that had managed to scale the sides of the ship leapt off desperately, plummeting to the sand below.  The ground seemed to shoot away from him, and the midship flew higher and higher.  Then, it pivoted in midair, heading towards the massive lake.  They were on a path to the Havali Desert, away from the Imperial base that lay ad-jacent to Silverage.  Once there, Johnny and Hans hoped that they would have enough time to make their way east towards the Regali Mountains.  It all depended on how quickly the Imperials in Silverage relayed the news of their failure to their superiors, and how the Imperials there reacted.
As Johnny attempted to acclimate to the strange and different feeling of flying, he realized that self-pitying brooding about his father was useless; harmful, in fact, to the other rebels.  In his mind, he made a conscious decision to take charge once more, to help Hans lead them to their destination.  And when he thought of the others, he remembered that many of them had left their families behind.  It was not a well-organized rebellion at all, just a whimsical fight, a lucky battle that they had happened to win.  He wondered what would become of those left behind, whether or not the rebels would be able to come back for them.
What have we done?  Was this a mistake?
Images of his mother, crying out for help as her house burned to naught but ashes, flitted tauntingly through his mind.  He pictured Arielle, wishing that her older brother would come home.  Descriptions of Semson, the Rustic City, mixed in with his memories of Silverage.  He saw empty streets.  He saw carcasses burning in unholy piles.  He saw the desertion of morality, as survivors were reduced to sub humans, scrounging in dark houses and looting stores for food.
“Johnny!” said someone, disrupting his reverie.
“What?” asked Johnny, turning around.  It was Dyvell.
“I just wanted to check with you where we’re headed.  Do you want to land right at the outskirts of the desert or farther in?”
“I don’t know.  Do whatever Hans thinks is best.”
“Hans thought I should ask you.”
“In that case, just land a little past the edge of the lake.  In other words, on the de-sert sand, but still in easy reach of the lake.”
Dyvell walked away, leaving Johnny alone in the deck of the midship.  Most of the other rebels had gone to the quarters, a rather large room that held about fifty small beds.  The rest were either in the weaponry or in the pilot’s room.  Johnny glanced out the window once more, and to his surprise he saw that, far away on the shores of Silverage, another midship was rising into the air.  Behind the midship, behind the sandy landscape of dunes and dried grass, there were flashes of red and orange, fearfully reminiscent of flames, once again evoking images in Johnny’s mind of shattered homes and burned fam-ily members, left behind to die.
So the Imperials aren’t quite as half-hearted as I had hoped.  It appears that they are ruling this land for a reason.
“Dyvell!” shouted Johnny. “Dyvell!”
Johnny got up and started jogging towards the pilot’s room.  Dyvell poked his head out of the ruined doorframe seconds later