A Giant Leap, part 2
Geryon's Code Cycle | The Orphaned Earth | Chapter 6
This is where the ground finally gives way, and the sky doesn’t promise safety. Thank you for reading and following Randy’s adventure.
"No way," muttered Dr. Osokin, walking in, his eyes fixed hungrily on the silvery sea at their feet. “Honestly, I thought Masako was delirious when she asked to find it...”
“Any news?” Akemi asked, bracing herself for the worst.
Dr. Osokin trudged across the workshop and collapsed onto the old couch as if his spine had turned to dust. Randy wanted to sit beside him, but the doctor waved him off with a flick of the hand.
“Thank you for staying healthy, Randy. Stay that way as long as you can…”
“It can’t be…” the young man whispered nervously.
“Don’t worry,” Osokin offered a half-smile. “Just a precaution. I’m okay as well. Still…”
“Hell, you’ve got skinny…”
“Good for me… Masako’s in a coma,” Osokin said, turning to Akemi, who stood frozen. “I hate to say it, but we’ve done everything we could. All we can do is hope for the better.”
“Is Arseny with her?” Akemi’s voice was barely audible.
“Yes.”
“Then she’s in good hands. I’ll leave you two to talk,” she said, crossing the room to set a pot of water on the stove.
“Randy, I came to check on you. Now—this,” the doctor nodded toward the iceberg of silk on the floor, “could change everything. I didn’t think Masako’s father was sane when he bought it. And I’m surprised she backed your plan. But right now? There’s no better time for a first flight.”
“I can’t believe this!” Randy rushed forward, forgetting restraint. “So you think we really have a shot?”
“More than a shot. I used to be stationed in Mirny, remember? They might still have a medicine. Weapons, too - the Golden Age kind. But the people there… they’re complicated. Community-first types who don’t trust outsiders. It’s a right thing to do, but it complicates everything.”
“We could scare them by saying the Moon Cross is coming for their asses,” said Randy, agitated.
“You’ve got the map, son?”
“Sure.”
“How long it will take to send your balloon into the air?”
“Well… Frame’s done… With the parachute, another day—maybe two.”
“Then let’s get to it.” Despite his exhaustion, Osokin’s eyes lit with resolve. “While the epidemic grips the city, no enemy’s fool enough to set foot here.”
“What if it dies down before I get back?”
“Then it dies down. The Moon Cross doesn’t gain much from killing us. What they want is control, not blood for blood’s sake. They’ve pretty much got their coal anyway. So yeah… right now, the plague’s a bigger threat than whoever’s come calling.”
“That’s fine, but Mom is in danger.”
“We still have the boat, son.”
“OK… I should tell Alejandro about the launch.”
“I already did. He won’t stop you—but he won’t help, either. Thinks it’ll backfire.”
“Why?”
“Townspeople may see it in a wrong way,” said the doctor. “Now, when you reach Mirny—go unarmed, hands raised. Don’t mention the outbreak till you find my former student Reynard Lutz in the med block. Push the Moon Cross angle hard. Tell them the fanatics will come looking for weapons. Reynard will quarantine and examine you anyway. You’ll have the time for a talk.”
Randy’s head was about to explode. Since the moment Alda's map came into his possession, this plan had crossed his mind more than once. But it always felt more like a fantasy. Leaving everyone behind was not a right option.
“Zorin’s a hard case,” the doctor continued. “He’s paranoid, self-centered and power-obsessed, but it’s quite possible that he’s no more alive or healthy enough to run Mirny. When he exiled Nina, Arseny and me, he had already been seventy-five. But if he’s still in charge, don’t provoke him. If he insults you, think of it like a dog barking. One does not bark back at senile dogs.”
“Yes, Father… But if the Moon Cross men are still here by the time I return, how am I supposed to bring you the medicine and other stuff?”
“Good question, Randy!” Dr. Osokin exhaled heavily. “I thought about it all day long. Night and the ocean will be your allies. You’ll need to find a boat to get back to McMurdo unharmed.”
“Still not the easiest task…” Randy sighed.
“With the support from Mirny things would be easier. One or two of their people by your side would greatly increase our chances of success. But we must prepare for the worst-case scenario. Mom will take care of it.”
“Mom?..”
“Yes. But you should be cautious, son. You’ll need to think two, maybe three steps ahead—every move could count. You sure you can steer your flying ship?”
Randy suppressed a cough.
“If I’d flown before, I’d know. Masako and I had plans to shape the chute—keep the heat in. But we didn’t finish.”
“I’ll help!” Akemi called from the stove. “Just get me some decent glue. I’ve fixed half this forge with it already.”
“Where would we even find that?”
“We’ve got some at home. Alda’ll bring it tomorrow,” said the doctor. “Be ready to fly the night after.”
They spent half the next day sewing, cutting, gluing—Randy, Akemi, Alda—reshaping the canopy into something balloon-like. As it shrank, Randy’s worry grew. Would this thing even take off with him on board?
Akemi showed no emotion—just kept working. Osokin hadn’t checked in again. No news of Masako. The old woman didn’t eat unless Alda made her. She shed no tears: she lost herself in work.
Later, Nick showed up—probably to fetch Randy for wall duty. But Akemi handed him a bundle of arrows and told him Randy had come down with the sickness.
Nick asked for Randy’s axe.
“Of course,” she said sweetly. “But just know—he spent the night curled around it.”
He bolted like a safety had just clicked off behind him.
Randy’s chest burned. Lying to people—even idiots like Nick—felt wrong. What if his parents and Mrs. Matsubara were just trying to save his life by kicking him off the sinking ship? Why not Arseny? Why not the doctor’s own son?
When he punched the wall, Alda snapped: “Lost it or what?”
“You just want me to escape the town, don’t you?” he almost screamed.
“You know, we’ve never raised you to run!”
He said nothing.
“No one is safe today - neither us, nor Arseny, nor you. You’ll be lucky to even get there, son. Railtown’s no sanctuary. Mirny may be no better: Dad has more than once told you about this wicked old man. And the gangs might be in between.”
The young man flinched. He longed to do something heroic for his family—but even more than that, he was scared to leave, not knowing what would become of them.
“Forging crossbow bolts and axes is good, Randy. But they can’t hold back the Moon Cross. They will do nothing against the disease.”
“Someone must do this work, Mom.”
Akemi touched his forearm softly.
“Luckily, it doesn’t need a heavy hammer.”
“Thanks,” he said, holding back tears.
The workshop’s curved, vaulted roof wasn’t made for launching anything—but it was perfect for laying out the balloon and channeling hot air into it from the forge’s pipe. Randy covered the rainwater tank with a grate, fashioning a makeshift platform where he could finally finish assembling the basket—connecting the prebuilt parts he and Masako had worked on together.
It was dark. He hadn’t dared step outside until the other men had gone off to their posts along the city wall. Once the balloon started to fill, it would be visible from anywhere—and anyone still awake and not lost in mourning would know something strange was happening at the forge. Something only Alejandro might understand.
But then Randy remembered the rumors—whispers of a traitor in the city—and it struck him: if anyone got blamed, it would be him.
The balloon’s surface swelled and trembled like something alive, pulsing with heat. Randy had rigged an extra length of pipe to the chimney—long and flexible—feeding it into the balloon’s opening. Down below, Alda and Akemi were burning damp wool, rags, and clipped hair—once used for pillows and rope.
In the basket, a small barrel of trash-gas waited—the same stuff Railtown’s railrunners used to power their handcars, able to turn garbage into propulsion. The gondola had space for nothing more than Randy himself and the barrel. No room to lie down, or even sit properly. He’d built it light, which meant tiny.
He was taking off with the same backpack Ilya Osokin had once carried out of Mirny.
As he tightened the suspension lines with sailor’s knots, Randy silently pleaded with the Elder and Younger Suns—begging them to bring the doctor for a final goodbye. He was sure of one thing: if Ilya didn’t show, there’d be no luck waiting for him in this reckless mission.
It still didn’t feel real—that Ilya, who so often scolded him for his wild ideas, had been the one to suggest escaping by air. Now the balloon loomed overhead, rising taller than he was, like some cross between a snowdrift and the smooth flank of an albino whale.
There was still waiting to do, but Randy couldn’t tear himself away. If he left for even a second, he was certain something would go wrong.
“Did you check the inside pocket?” Alda asked, climbing the ladder.
“No, why?” Randy replied, unbuttoning his coat.
“Stop—don’t touch it!” she said sharply. “Your grandmother’s jewelry’s in there—gold, silver, her platinum wedding ring. You’ll need it to pay the Mainline railmen. Or the boatmen in Seven Winds.”
“Seven Winds?”
“How else will you get back? McMurdo’s sealed now—sea’s your only way in.”
“Yeah… fair enough.”
“With the right wind, it’s not much slower than the Mainline. Just be smart. Remember—we need you alive.”
Alda hugged him, cheek to cheek. The wind lashed them like a warning. They only let go when clanging footsteps sounded on the metal stairs. Relief came with the sight of Ilya Osokin.
Randy didn’t dare ask about Masako, afraid of the answer. But the doctor read the question in his eyes and said, “Not yet… Yesterday I injected an expired compound. The fungus is so lethal, it couldn’t make things worse…”
“Did Akemi say anything?”
“I don’t want to give you false hope. You’ve got the map?”
Randy tapped the tube on his belt.
“Provisions?”
“The pack’s about to burst.”
“Firestarter?”
He slapped his pocket. “Still there.”
“Sleeping bag?”
Randy nodded. Alda handed him Rakhmanov’s—hidden for a decade with other things she’d told him were burned. That day, she’d feared the Prince’s thugs might come knocking. She’d lied to protect him.
The balloon—whale-like now—shuddered upward, jerking against its chains. In the glow of the Lesser Sun and flickering auroras, it was fully visible to the whole city. And sure enough, voices rang out from below, alarmed and angry.
“Climb in,” Ilya said, hurrying to uncoil the chains.
“Help me!” he called to Alda, who stood frozen, staring at the growing crowd.
“I’ll talk to them!”
“No, wait!” He caught her arm. “They’ll jump to conclusions. You’ll get hurt—Randy! Why’d you tangle the chains like this?”
Their voices blurred. Randy stared up at the pale giant above, awed by the power he’d managed to harness. Fear gave way to wonder. Seventeen years old, and somehow, this was his creation. The sky waited.
The balloon bucked, snapping the last two chains taut. The earth fell away beneath him. From below, people shouted—rising like ghosts from the street.
“What the hell is that thing?”
“It’s that doctor’s kid! I knew he was up to something!”
“He’s the one…”
“Bet he brought the plague!”
“Everyone shut up!” Alda shouted from the roof. “Ilya’s been working day and night to save your families! And Randy’s flying to Railtown to get help!”
“Then why not take a boat?”
“Ask your friends—who gave it fins?”
Fins? Randy thought, dazed and almost panicking. Someone stole our boat, and she said nothing! Nor did Father! Oh let my axe find the bastard when I return!
The last chain clanged loose. The pipe slammed against the roof. And Randy shot into the sky.
He nearly toppled from the basket but caught a handle—Masako’s idea. Then the world blurred. His breath caught. His stomach lurched. Blood roared in his ears.
Something struck the basket—a sharp jolt. Arrow? Rock? He didn’t know. Below, McMurdo shrank. The ocean stretched out, black and endless.
In the aurora’s glow, he glimpsed the rail yard—and raised a middle finger in farewell.
A flash of white fire sliced through a strap. Another blast ripped a hole in the basket, burned his leg, seared his skin. Randy screamed, curling in pain, praying the third shot wouldn’t hit the balloon itself.
But then—salvation. A snow cloud swallowed him. The cold was brutal, biting to the bone. Randy lit the burner, pumping trash-gas heat to stay aloft.
Down below, the crowd had fallen silent. Shocked. The boy had flown.
Their doubts vanished. To them, it was clear now: the Osokins had sold out. This was tech only the Scourge possessed.
A stone struck the balloon—harmless. The next hit Ilya, though, most probably, the thrower aimed at Randy. The rock split the skin on Osokin’s forehead. He staggered on the sloped roof. His foot slipped.
The sky spun. The world tilted. The doctor’s vertebrae snapped.
Ilya Osokin never heard his wife scream.
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