30
“Did they smell like raw death?” Molly repeated. “They smelled worse than that!”
She hurried alongside Cat, wondering what the Callite knew about the people on her ship. And worried about what they might know about the mysterious hyperdrive within it.
The two of them left the dark alley and crossed the main road leading out of town. They angled toward the stables, cutting between two more buildings and running past Walter, who had become distracted in front of an electronics boutique. Finally, they darted into another alley to get out of the glow of the streetlights, the blood on them both conspicuous. They jogged along the side road parallel to the bustling strip Molly had walked down earlier that day.
“Are they—will they steal my ship?” she asked Cat, panting between the words.
“Depends.”
“They said they knew my father, does that narrow things down?” Molly glanced back and urged Walter along. Then something occurred to her—and she felt like she was going to throw up. Reaching up to her neck, she felt the empty air there, and had a sensation like she was missing some part of herself.
“The Wadi!” She stopped and yelled back to Walter, who jogged up to join them, panting. “Where is she?”
Walter’s eyes widened. He reached down and unzipped something on his flightsuit, and her Wadi burst out amid a cloud of colorful confetti like a cannonball followed by fake, pixelated smoke. It leapt to the ground and ran to Molly, scampering up to her neck and sticking its head down the back of her shirt. Molly’s heart nearly burst with relief. She kept one hand on its back and rubbed the stubble of Walter’s head.
“You’re the best,” she said, stooping over to kiss his forehead.
Behind her, Cat clapped her hands. “The ship?” she said.
Molly turned and nodded, and the three of them set off at a jog, the Wadi’s claws digging into her skin as it held on.
“The Callites are huge,” Molly warned Cat. “Bigger than the guy beat-ing you up at that blood-letting place.”
“Won’t be a problem,” Cat said.
“Lots bigger,” she added, trying not to sound winded.
“Trust me,” Cat said, her voice even and smooth. “It won’t be a problem.”
They ran along in silence for a while, the buildings thinning as they reached the outskirts of town. Ahead, Molly could see the beginnings of the stables. Most of the ships had their anchor lights on, red over white up the back of their tails or on extended rods for the ships that eschewed tails altogether. Molly berated herself for having not turned hers on; but then, she hadn’t expected to be out all day.
“Where’re you parked?” Cat asked.
“Other side of the johns.” Molly pointed in the general direction, but didn’t need to. They were downwind from them and could’ve nosed their way in the dark. “What’s the plan?” she asked. “Should we get Pete for backup?”
Cat laughed. “He’d get in the way. The plan is for you to wait outside and for me to go in and handle it. I’ll try not to get blood all inside your ship.”
Molly wasn’t sure what to make of that. They ran past a few ships, ducking under wings here and there to cut down the distance. She yelled back at Walter to watch a power cord snaking from one of the pedestals toward a ship, then heard him trip over it and bite the dust, anyway.
“The loading ramp was down when I left, but I don’t— there!” Molly reached for Cat, trying to slow her up. “That’s her right there.”
Cat held up her hand. “I see her,” she said. “Wait outside.”
Molly nodded; she followed behind as Cat ran to the ship. She stopped just outside—close enough to hear what was going on. Walter caught up, dusting himself off as Cat disappeared up the boarding ramp. The two crewmembers crouched in the shadows, panting and looking at each other with wide eyes. The Wadi leaned over from Molly’s shoulder and hissed at Walter, the first time she’d ever seen it do that.
“No,” she whispered to the animal. She turned the other direction and peeked around the corner and into the cargo bay. She hated the idea of waiting and letting someone else take the risk alone; she felt on the verge of going in to investigate, when Cat came back down the ramp, her posture relaxed.
“Are they gone?” Molly asked.
Cat shook her head. “No, they’re sleeping—”
“Good! Then we can take them by surprise. I can rig up a taser from the twenty-four volt panel, hit them with wires—”
Cat waved her off. “No doing,” she said. “I know these guys.”
“You know them?”
“Yeah,” Cat said, nodding. “Old friends of mine. And they’re exhaus-ted, so why don’t I introduce you in the morning?”
“Introduce me? I want them off my ship!”
Cat leaned her head to one side. “I doubt that,” she said. “These are the people you’ve been wanting to meet.”
????
Molly woke up in the pilot’s chair sideways, her feet over the control console. She had an awful crick in her neck and a Wadi on it—the creature was curled up under her chin and snoring contentedly. Dawn had come and gone, the sun fully up and heating the cockpit, giving her the headache she always suffered from rising late.
She moved the Wadi to the back of her seat before sitting up and rubbing her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that she was starving. Secondly, that the nav chair was empty. She leaned forward and turned on the cargo cam, then grabbed the helmet behind her. When the vid screen came up, she saw Walter pulling the galley apart to cook breakfast.
“Morning,” she said into her helmet, greeting her mom.
“Morning, sweetheart. Are you feeling better?”
Molly adjusted the volume and pulled the visor shut to muffle her own voice.
“Yeah, sorry I couldn’t talk more last night. I was on empty.”
“Literally, from the sound of it. Sweetheart, before we do anything else, we need to look into this election place, find out who else has disappeared. This could—it could go back to one of the cases your father and I were working on.”
“Really? What would the elections have to do with fusion fuel?”
“Nothing, but when your father and I were stationed here, our main investigation kept getting sidetracked by a never-ending string of missing persons cases.”
“I remember you telling me that. Well, the other you. On Dakura.” Molly paused, trying to remember some things and forget others. “Do you think I just avoided becoming one of those missing people?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t an election year when we arrived, and yet some of the cases went back several years and were pretty steady. Maybe this is something different.”
“Maybe they preserve the blood,” Molly said. “They could steal it over time and then flood the polls with votes.”
“That’s what I don’t understand about what they did to you. The tally machines don’t work that way, otherwise donor banks would run dry every six years. The machines do skin conductance readings to make sure the voter is present, and they look for chemicals in the blood that have a very short shelf life, hormones and what-not.”
“Well, the boxes in that place were marked ‘Votes,’ and Walter said the building was some kind of election joint.”
“Which is how I would hide blood if I were stealing it,” Parsona said.
“Stealing it for what?” Molly asked, exasperated. “Why do you have to make everything more complicated?”
Her mom didn’t reply, and Molly regretted the outburst. She looked down at the Wadi, who had crawled into her lap and was looking up at her, a pink tongue spiraling in the air between them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” Molly said.
“It’s okay. I probably deserve worse.”
“No. You don’t.” Molly held the sides of her helmet and groaned. “This is just too much for me to handle, I think I . . . I need Cole, or somebody. Can we just go to hyperspace, find him and dad, just deal with all this other stuff later?”
“I think that’s a good idea, actually. We’ll talk about it after breakfast.” The cargo cam panned up toward the crew quarters, drawing Molly’s attention. “Walter’s cooking is waking the ship.”
Molly watched as two of the squatters emerged from their bunks. Her bunks, she corrected herself.
Molly flipped up her visor. “I’m gonna send Cat up here and have her put on Walter’s helmet. I haven’t told her about you, so break it however you like. Hopefully the two of you can figure out what to do next—I don’t think I can handle being in charge of this.”
“I need to talk to her anyway, find out how soon we can fill up with fusion fuel. Now, go drink plenty of juice, okay? I don’t want you doing anything for the next few days besides resting up and recharging.”
Molly mumbled a promise before popping off her helmet. She left it in the nav chair with the visor open and shooed the Wadi into what had become its favorite home. She crawled over the controls and exited the cockpit, entering a fog of tasty aromas.
“Good morning, guys.” She nodded warily to the two men, then squeezed Walter on the shoulder as he tended a skillet layered with popping meat.
Scottie tipped a non-existent hat at her. “You must’ve come in late. Sure left in a flash.” He crossed the cargo space toward the galley, and Molly saw he was wearing one of Cole’s favorite t-shirts, his bulk stretching it near to bursting. The sight of it on him undid everything the smell of breakfast was attempting with her tastebuds. It also made it easy to forget that these were the people she needed to associate with.
“I’m Scottie,” he said, holding out his hand toward Walter.
Walter shrugged and held up two cooking utensils, as if putting them down to shake would entail some exhausting ordeal. “Walter,” he mumbled back, the sizzle of frying meat almost hiding the annoyed hiss that came after.
“This is Urg,” Scottie said, patting the large Callite on the back. Molly recognized him as the near-mute from the day before. Nods were exchanged. She marveled at how close the Callite came to filling one of Edison’s flightsuits. Seeing these strangers in her crew’s clothing sent ripples up and down her flesh. A full day of loathing these men had built up some sort of venom within her. Being told that these were the people she’d been looking for wasn’t much of an antidote. She felt slightly nauseas from their presence—so much so, it took a while to notice their stench had disappeared.
“You guys figured the showers out?” she asked, rounding up mugs for everyone.
“Yeah,” Scottie said. “I really appreciate you letting us shack up here and get cleaned up. We’ve had . . . some real troubles the past week or so.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay for one more night, but we need to work out a different bunk arrangement. You guys can double-up or someone can sleep out here. Oh, and once we top up with fuel, we’ll be moving on, so it’s best you start looking for something more permanent.”
Scottie glanced at Urg. They both accepted cups of instant coffee from Molly.
“Additives are in the fridge,” she told them. “I’m gonna get Cat up, but your other friend can sleep as long as he likes.” She headed across the cargo bay.
“Oh, Ryn’s not in there. He left early this morning to . . . take care of some things. Should be back by noon.”
Molly waved over her shoulder to let him know she’d heard, but continued to Walter’s room. She keyed the door open and turned the lights on dim. Cat was sitting up in the bunk with her legs crossed, staring at the door.
“Morning,” Molly said, wondering how long she’d been sitting like that.
“Morning. Everyone else up?”
“Yeah. Coffee’s the instant kind. Breakfast’ll be ready soon.”
Cat popped up and stepped toward her. Her hair was wet, as if she’d recently showered. She had on the clothes Molly had set out for her. In the dim light, her face looked flawless, or unscathed at least, a very far cry from how Molly had first seen her. She also looked small in a plain shirt and shorts. Her wiry muscles seemed lean with their definition hidden. Molly wouldn’t have given her a second glance in a crowd, even with the bright hair knotted back on her head.
“Hey,” Molly said, “before you do anything else, I need you to go to the cockpit and talk to someone.”
Cat lowered her brow to something between curious and wary. “Who?”
“There’s a helmet on the starboard rack. Just put it on, the mic is still live. And don’t be alarmed if the door shuts behind you, okay?”
Cat narrowed her eyes but nodded. She headed toward the cockpit while Molly checked in on the other rooms to make sure everything was intact. The engine room, especially.
When she got back to the cargo bay, a plate piled high with meat and eggs was waiting on her. She grabbed a few pieces of bread and took one of the empty crewseats, pulling out the table in the handrest. Everyone else had already dove in, filling the room with contented, smacking sounds. Molly watched them eat, wondering why she felt so alone with so many people on the ship. She also marveled at how she could possibly feel anything other than ravenous.
She ate slowly, forcing everything down. She had to remember her promise to her mom and her pragmatic need for sustenance—her appetite simply wasn’t there anymore. Walter set a glass of local juice on her tray. She took a sip, then touched her arm around the bandaid, wincing at the bruised and sore feeling that had spread from the needle. She couldn’t tell if it had gotten worse overnight, or if it was getting better.
“You okay?” Scottie asked.
Molly glanced up. “Cat didn’t say anything about last night?”
“Only that attendance was light and she didn’t find many takers at the pub.”
Molly watched him take another large bite and chew voraciously. Beside him, Urg continued to cut his food into tiny pieces and eat them with careful, steady precision, chewing subtly before swallowing. Molly wondered why Cat hadn’t said anything about her ordeal—if it was a trust issue, or just a result of the late hour.
“What’s she doing in the cockpit?” Scottie asked.
Molly shrugged. “I hope she’s lining up a tank of fuel.” She stabbed blindly at a bite of food and watched Scottie and Urg glance at one another. “You wouldn’t know where I could find some, would you?”
Scottie took a bite of his toast and made a show of chewing, but he was obviously considering how best to answer.
“I might know someone,” he said around a mouthful of masticated bread. He swallowed. “I have to warn you, though, the price has gone up considerably.”
Molly looked over at Walter, who was following the conversation closely. “I can pay,” she said.
“I’d be surprised. It’s gone up a lot.” Scottie smiled and jabbed his fork in her direction. “I think we could work something out, though. Barter with something besides cash.”
Molly felt her throat constrict with disgust, even though she had no idea what he was talking about.
“Bartering goess through me,” Walter said, leaning forward from his seat.
Scottie looked from Molly to him, then back again. He raised his eyebrows and took a loud sip from his coffee.
“Give me a price before you tell me we can’t pay,” Molly said.
“The price,” he said, setting down his mug, “is the use of your ship for a few weeks.”
Molly slapped her fork to her plate, then grabbed her armrest and squeezed so tight, it felt like her hand would lock there forever. She found it difficult to unclench her jaw to reply, so she hissed through her teeth: “Never.”
Scottie smiled and held up his fists—a knife in one and a fork in the other. “It’d be for a good cause,” he said. “You’d be helping a lot of people out.”
“There are other people needing my help more. Tell you what, you give me a tank of fuel and I’ll come back in a week and you can ask my dad to use his ship.”
“I thought it was your ship,” said Scottie.
“Our ship. Same thing. Look—” Molly released the armrest and grabbed her napkin. She dabbed the corners of her mouth with it. “I’ve been traipsing across Lok for two weeks looking for some of this fuel. I don’t have time for—”
“For my people,” Urg said quietly.
Molly looked over to the Callite, his broken silence stunning her into one of her own.
“You haven’t been here when one of the shuttles goes up, have you?” Scottie asked.
Molly shook her head, but then she remembered the craft she and Walter had seen lift off from the café. “Did one go up yesterday?” she asked.
Scottie nodded.
“I saw it,” she said. “And you say it was a shuttle?”
“An immigrations shuttle. During election years, they round up Callites with expired work permits and ship them home.”
“But that’s the law, right?”
Scottie frowned. He reached over and rested a hand on Urg’s arm, even though the Callite didn’t seem to be making an effort to rise, or even speak.
“Things aren’t right or wrong because they’re the law. They’re sup-posed to be the law because they’re right or wrong.”
“Look,” Molly said. She pushed her eggs away from her toast, but her meager appetite had dwindled to nothing. “I don’t want to argue politics, or whatever. I’m not trying to be a crusader. I just want to get back to my family. Surely you can understand—”
“I do,” said Urg. “I understand.”
Molly glanced up and locked eyes with the massive Callite; she watched his lids scissor shut in a slow blink.
“I want my family back as well,” he said.
“Can’t you just go home to them?” Molly asked. “That’s all I’m trying to do, get back with my family.”
Urg shook his head.
“They were on yesterday’s shuttle,” Scottie said.
Molly looked back and forth between them. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she whispered. “Maybe it would be best if he just—”
“The shuttle was shot down by that fleet up there,” Scottie continued. “The last four shuttles have all been sent crashing straight back to Lok, no shots fired, nothing. They just go limp and fall back to the prairie. It’s like they get halfway to orbit and just give up.”
Molly looked from Scottie to Urg, disbelieving. “It crashed?”
“All of them have for the last two weeks.”
“With people on them?”
Scottie leaned forward slightly. “My two friends should’ve been on that last one. With their families.”
Molly looked down at her plate where she had idly swirled her food into a miserable mess.
“I didn’t know,” she said.
“They won’t stop,” Scottie said. “They’ll round up more today and more the day after, right up to the elections.”
“But why would they—?” Molly shook her head. Surely they wouldn’t. She dropped her fork and reached for the bandage around the crook of her arm, rubbing it reflexively. Looking down at the red skin spreading out from the puncture wound, she considered that they possibly would.
“It’s the same to them,” said Urg, as he shrugged his massive shoul-ders. “Gone is gone.”
Molly turned to him, saw the deep furrows in his scaly forehead that seemed to convey confusion rather than the sad resignation in his voice.
“Then why come here?” she asked. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I don’t mean to blame you, but why risk it?”
“The government on Shurye isn’t much better,” Scottie said, speaking for his friend. “There’s just as much of a chance taken by sitting still.”
“Everything is chance,” said Urg.
Something beeped. Molly looked over, thinking it was an alarm of some sort, then saw Walter had finished eating and had brought out his videogame.
“I feel bad for your loss,” she said, turning back to Urg. “Truly, I do. I lost my family when I was younger, so I hope you can understand what it feels like to have a chance to get them back. Besides, I can’t do anything about that fleet, and the law is probably not on your side—”
“Screw the law,” spat Scottie. “This isn’t about law or legality—”
Molly looked down at her plate and away from the outburst.
Scottie took a deep breath, calming himself.
“Think about what the law is saying,” he said. “People born inside one invisible line are confined there. Even if they wanna pay the taxes, buy some land, obey the local rules, they aren’t allowed to move. They don’t have the basic freedom to choose where to live or where to raise their families. It’s like the days of being born a cobbler’s son and having to become a cobbler.”
“There’s legal immigration,” Molly said, unable to restrain herself from arguing her point.
“And there’s limits to that, which means after a certain number, we get right back to that invisible line a sentient being can’t cross. This isn’t about laws. It’s about xenophobia. It’s about Lokians scared their planet will be overrun, that its future makeup might be different than what it was in the past.”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the primary motivation—”
“No?” Scottie pushed his plate across the galley table and leaned back in his seat. “I think you’re wrong. The same government restricting immigration from Shurye does everything it can to get more Terrans to move here. And I don’t think you understand how much good you could do with this ship of yours.”
Molly stood up and stacked her plate with Scottie’s and Walter’s. She scraped her leftovers in the degrader before piling the dishes in the sonic washer.
“You guys can stay here until you find a safe place,” she said. “I’ll pay you double the market value for the fuel, or I’ll ask you to point me in another direction. I’ll even let you use the ship when I get back, but I won’t be delayed. I can’t be.” She looked over Walter’s head to Urg, whose lids flicked together once, removing the wet sheen from his eyes.
“I just can’t,” she said.
Molly topped up her coffee and crossed the cargo bay to open the ramp and let in some fresh air. She leaned against the jamb with her second cup and peered through the steam as the metal decking swung out and into the dusty stable lot.
Outside, several crews from other ships performed their daily chores, making Molly feel like there was something productive she should be doing. They washed down their hulls, performed repairs out on their wings, scrubbed bugs off the carboglass, all reminders of the tasks she’d been neglecting. The weather was great for the work, but she could tell it was going to get hot later in the day. And without a breeze, it wouldn’t be long before those crews went scurrying back inside, hovering around the AC vents and waiting until nighttime to finish the day’s work.
She blew on her coffee and was about to take a sip when she noticed a cluster of men crawl up on a wing a few ships to Parsona’s rear. One of them held something to his head, a portable radio, perhaps. Everyone in the group looked back to the west, shielding their eyes from the sun.
Molly leaned out from the doorway and followed their gazes. She noticed several other captains and crewmembers exiting their ships to look the same direction.
“What’s going on?” she asked a young man in coveralls, who was running between her ship and the neighbor’s.
“A fleet,” the guy yelled over his shoulder. “There’s a massive new fleet on SADAR!”
Molly looked to the sky, her hand shading her eyes. She couldn’t see anything, but she thought she heard a rumble growing, like distant thunder.
Scottie joined her by the ramp. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Something—” Molly cursed herself and ran back inside. She keyed open the cockpit and apologized to Cat. Leaning over the control console, she fired up the SADAR and waited for it to initialize.
“You okay?” Cat asked.
“I think there’s something going on in orbit,” Molly told her.
The SADAR popped up, and she extended the range. There was the cluster of the Bern fleet overhead, which hadn’t changed much—just grown since she’d last looked. The largest of them dominated the group, the one she liked to think of as Lok’s new potato-shaped moon.
“There!” Cat said, pointing.
“I see it,” Molly said. A cluster of new targets were in motion, and more were streaming in behind—blips that signified ships popping out of hyperspace. And something about the formation triggered a tremor of recognition in Molly.
“Can your mom see this?” Cat asked. “Nevermind, she just said she could now that the SADAR is on.”
“Yeah, that’s how it works. I think I know what—”
Cat raised her hand as red warning lights flashed on SADAR. Molly reached to locate the threat, when Cat grabbed her wrist.
“You need to hear this,” she said, pulling the helmet off.
Molly switched to the external radio and hit the “Center Target” button.
“—yday, mayday,” the voice crackled. “Cruiser Engala has been hit by something. No flight controls. Gravity sensors are haywire. Mayday, mayday, ma—”
The radio fell silent. The SADAR centered on the cluster of new targets that had just jumped in-system, their IDs blinking as Parsona’s computers scanned them. But Molly didn’t need to wait for the computer to do its work. She knew the formation without needing the ships’ IDs:
Navy.
The cavalry had arrived.
“We need to get into flightsuits and scramble,” Molly said.
“We’re no help up there,” Cat said. “We need to hunker down.”
Molly looked at the screen. The Bern ships were moving, responding to the Navy fleet. Only—they seemed to be moving away from them. Her normally tactical brain remained blank, not knowing what the Bern ships were capable of. It felt like the beginning of a surprise simulation, those tense moments when you weren’t sure who you were up against. She reached for the dash and started warming the thrusters and cycling the hyperdrive, just in case.
“Why don’t you grab some food?” she said to Cat. She fought to keep her voice calm as several of the red Navy targets began flashing with mayday beacons. It made no sense. The Bern ships seemed to be retreating, but the Navy fleet was winking with distress.
“I’m not that hungry,” Cat said, “but I get your drift. Tell your mom we ain’t done talking.” She crawled out of the nav seat and handed the helmet to Molly before exiting the cockpit.
Molly put the helmet on its shelf and leaned over the nav seat to tap the top of her own. The Wadi came out with a sleepy look; she scooped it up and followed Cat into the cargo bay. “Walter, take the Wadi and make sure it eats plenty.” She looked down the ramp as Walter pulled the hissing creature from her arms. “Scottie, I need you to come back inside. We’re buttoning up.”
“What about Ryn?” he asked.
“We’ll let him in when he gets here, if we’re still here when he gets back.”
“If we’re still here? We aren’t going anywhere without—”
A loud blast cut him off, and Scottie fell forward as a wave of compressed air rocked the ship. Something exploded nearby. Molly ran to him, helping him up as a wall of dust and debris roared across the stables.
Molly’s hair stirred from the breeze of concussed air. The incredible noise left her ears ringing, but she didn’t see a fireball, didn’t feel heat in the air from a munitions blast. She ran to the door, squinting into the storm of dust that had risen around the neighboring hulls.
Another impact boomed farther away and was followed by the rum-ble of kinetic energy. Molly looked up—Firehawks and larger ships were raining down through the atmosphere, clear across the sky to the horizon. They dropped through the air with the glow of accidental reentry, leaving behind trails of dirty smoke.
“What the flank?” Scottie asked, peering out beside her. “Holy hell,” he said, “it’s like the shuttles—”
“Get inside,” Molly told him. “We need to get out of here.”