Free The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point by Jaron Lee Knuth

they have nothing left to fight.
    There are a few cargo containers buckled to the floor, most likely empty, only there as environmental decoration for the game. Some radar equipment sits behind a fenced off area with blinking lights and flashing screens twinkling in the corner, detecting nothing. The rest of the jet is industrial beams and bare walls. Function over form. It might not be pretty, but it's keeping us safe. It's keeping her safe.
    “Yes,” I blurt out. Confidently. Defiantly. “This is enough. You are enough. All I need is you.”
    She smiles again in that sympathetic way. For some reason it feels condescending, like she understands something that I don't, and she's patiently waiting for me to catch up.
    “That's sweet. It really is. And I have no doubt, that at this moment in time, you believe that.” The smile falters. It shakes a bit as she struggles to maintain it, and then falls away. “But I could never ask you to do that. I could never ask you to live like this.”
    “You don't have to. I'm making the choice on my own. This isn't a sacrifice. I get to keep living with you, and I-”
    “This isn't like before. This isn't like when you chose our world over NextWorld. You'd go mad here.” She looks around at the other civilians, still pouring over their code books. “We all would.”
    “That's not true. You'd still be able to study, and learn, and-”
    She reaches out and grabs my hand. The leather glove is cold. She pulls me closer so that I'm sitting down next to her again. She puts both her arms around me and hugs me. It's forceful, but oddly comforting, like she's pressing her calm into me.
    I try to push her away again, ready to argue more, but she holds on to me, her fingers gripping my trench coat and holding me in place.
    “Not all of us have to die. If you log-out-”
    “No!” I shout, but my lips are pressed into her shoulder. My mind flips into problem-solving mode. “We can fix the firewall. We can keep flying.” I jump from idea to idea before I shake my head and say, “We'll figure something out. I'm never going to leave you. That's never been an option for me. I won't-”
    “Shh,” she whispers. “Sit with me for a while.”
    I close my eyes and do as she asks. It's actually easier than I expected to not think about anything. I inhale the smell of her leather-strapped suit and relax into her powerful arms. I feel like a child again. Something that hasn't happened in a long, long time. Since my mother.
    I'm not sure how much time has passed when we hear a calm, sedated voice say, “Excuse me.”
    An old man wearing a tweed jacket steps next to us. He adjusts his glasses and speaks to Cyren. “We wanted to inform you that we've succeeded in changing the code.”
    He doesn't wait for a response. He pivots on one foot and returns to his seat. The civilians all close their code books, which disappear into their inventory, and stare straight ahead. Their faces are devoid of any humanity. It's unnerving.
    “That's... that's good,” I say, but when I look at Cyren, she looks far from happy. I put my hand on her shoulder and say, “Cyren, I know you don't believe me, but now that we don't have to worry about fuel, we can-”
    “Arkade,” she says my name in a whisper and takes a deep breath before she continues. “That isn't the code that they changed.”
    Her words confuse me, but the ominous tone she uses causes my stomach to sink.
    “What are you talking about?”
    I look around the interior of the jet at all the faces of the civilians, hoping for some kind of explanation, but their eyes are vacant.
    Cyren touches the side of my face and turns my gaze back toward her. Her eyes are glossy with tears, but she's holding them back, doing everything she can to stop them from falling. She stares at me for a long time. Too long.
    “I knew you'd never leave me. I knew that was never an option for you.” She smiles as a tear rolls down her face. “Sometimes I think I know you