26
Walter strolled through the lobby and ignored Cole, who was trailing along behind him. The human kept hissing at him, trying to convince him to go back to the room without being overheard. It sounded like he was making fun of how Walter talked.
“We don’t even know that she needs saving,” Cole whispered.
The lobby buzzed with activity. Several Stanleys turned to watch the two boys as they weaved through the organized chaos. Walter felt exposed—conspicuously unattended, as all the other guests had escorts—he hurried toward the elevators. The situation reminded him of many a clumsy heist he’d attempted in the past, and shouldn’t have. Well, he should’ve planned them better, at least.
“I know sshe iss in trouble,” he hissed over his shoulder. “You can sstay here if you like.”
A tour group popped out of one of the elevators—Walter veered toward it, dodging around a Stanley that seemed to be heading for the same elevator. He beat the robot to the lift and pressed the button to close the door. The Stanley stopped and stared at him, confused. Cole, unfortunately, managed to shoulder the android aside and squeeze through the shutting doors.
The human seemed angry.
“Listen, Walter—hey, where’d you get that card?”
Walter looked at the pass he’d swiped through the elevator reader; it differed in color from the ones around their necks. The human might not be quite as dumb as he looked.
“I borrowed it,” he said. He typed away at the keyboard by the elevator, then turned to look at the back wall. The tour schematic of the complex came up. It showed their elevator descending the shaft.
“How do you know how to do that?” Cole asked.
Walter sneered. “Englissh makess me ssound sstupid becausse of Englissh, not becausse of me.” He looked to his handheld computer. “They usse the ssame passsword for everything here,” he said, shaking his silvery head.
????
Mr. Byrne stomped up the porch, the steps creaking with a heft his frame kept hidden. Parsona rose to give him a hug—Molly remained seated. As the two adults embraced, Byrne peered down at Molly over Parsona’s shoulder.
“Mollie Fyde?”
“Isn’t she lovely?” Parsona asked, breaking off the hug and gazing adoringly at Molly.
“Mr. Byrne,” the man said, holding out a thin hand, pale as a corpse’s.
Molly warily accepted the outstretched hand, then shivered as her small grasp wrapped all the way around his fingers.
Parsona clapped her hands together. “Let’s go inside where there’s plenty of seating, shall we?”
Mr. Byrne held Molly’s hand and stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable. “That sounds splendid,” he said.
A roaring fire greeted them inside, despite the pleasant weather. Three comfortable chairs faced the hearth, a low table before them.Quaint pictures of frontier life adorned the clapboard walls, and folded quilts were draped over anything that would hold them. An especially ornate one stretched out across one wall like the skin of a cottage drying for the tanner. Random pops sounded from the fire, and worn wood creaked under their feet.
Even the imperfections are perfect, Molly noted.
“I’ll sit in the middle, if you two don’t mind,” Parsona said. “I just can’t believe my luck to have you both visiting.” She lowered herself gracefully to the center chair and turned to Mr. Byrne. He eased himself down into the floral upholstery as well. “This is Mollie’s first visit with me, and I haven’t seen you in almost, what, ten years? Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Quite,” agreed Mr. Byrne. He smiled warmly, looking past Parsona and eying Molly.
“After we catch up, perhaps we could go for a horseback ride, or head into town for a play. They always have the best shows at the opera house.”
“That would be lovely,” said Mr. Byrne. Molly saw him glance to the coffee table and then back to Parsona. “Perhaps the girls could make us some cake or tea?” he asked.
Parsona slapped her thighs. “Why, of course! I say, what manners!” She looked at Molly apologetically. “You can tell I’m out of practice. You two get to know one another while I go see how the girls are coming along.”
The floor squeaked with her passage. As the door flew open, the sounds of laughter and play flooded through like a joyous outburst, then fell silent as it closed.
Molly narrowed her eyes at the man. “Who are you?” she asked.
Byrne folded his fingers together and rested his elbows on the cushioned armrest, leaning toward Molly. “Why, I’m your godfather, Mollie.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, but I am. Your father and I were the closest of friends.”
“Then how come I’ve never heard of you before?” Molly asked.
Byrne looked to the fire; embers spat out on a rug that seemed incapable of burning. “There are many things your father never told you.”
“Yeah? Maybe that’s because I was six years old and I didn’t need to know them yet.”
Byrne shook his head and clucked his tongue. “No, no, no, Mollie. Things he couldn’t tell you.”
Molly thought about the elusiveness of her mom—the one trapped in Parsona’s nav computer—but she refused to let this creep trip her up or cast doubts. This had to be the man her mother wanted her memories kept from.
“You don’t scare me, and I don’t believe your lies,” she said.
He spread his arms; the skin above his eyes rose in surprise, or amusement—it was difficult to tell without hair on his brow.
“Scared? I’m not trying to scare you—”
“Whatever. Just so you know, my last godfather tried to mess with me and I killed him.”
“Ah, yes. Lucin. I heard about that.” He shook his head again. “Shame, really. I should have gotten to the old bastard first.”
“Yeah?” Molly challenged. “Why? What did you want with him? What do you want from my mother? Why are you even here?”
He leaned closer, his voice lowered to the level of the crackling flames. “Why, Mollie, I’m simply here to collect what’s mine.”
“Which is?” She tried to conceal the very real sense of dread creeping up her spine. The door burst back open and Parsona entered, joined by a cough of laughter from outside. The sound of joy just augmented the creepiness of the situation. Molly stared at Mr. Byrne, her question hanging in the air.
He lifted a hand, unraveled a long bony finger and stretched it out in Molly’s direction. He didn’t say it, just mouthed the single word with thin lips that gaped open, then formed a small circle.
“You,” he mouthed.
????
Cole still didn’t believe Molly was in any danger, and he was normally the paranoid one. Recently, he’d been right more often than not, so he decided to trust his gut and assume Molly was fine. He just needed to concentrate on keeping Walter from causing any trouble.
“Are you sure Molly was moved?” he asked.
“Possitive,” Walter said. “Computerss don’t lie.”
“Maybe they do,” Cole said. “Maybe you just can’t smell it on them the way you can on people.”
The boy glanced up from his computer. “They’re programss. They can only do what they’re told.” The elevator dinged, and the doors cracked open. Walter scrunched up his metallic face. “Unlesss they’re told to lie,” he mused aloud.
The elevator opened up on the lobby with the glass partitions. Cold strode out and saw another group standing nearby, waiting to enter a neighboring lift. It dinged open just as Walter strolled out. The Stanley with the group turned to survey the two boys.
Cole froze, speechless. He could see that they were about to get busted for walking around without an escort.
Walter didn’t miss a beat. He turned and looked back into the empty elevator they’d just exited. “After we tour thiss level, can we get ssomething to eat?” he asked, as if there was someone in there.
Cole glanced from Walter, to the empty lift, then over at the Stanley. The android gave him a fake smile and joined his potential clients in the neighboring elevator. The doors closed, meeting with a soft thud.
“We musst hurry,” Walter said. Cole nodded. He watched the boy hold his computer level and stare down at it, swiveling in place as if he needed to line up the virtual with the real in order to get his bearings. He pointed to one of the glass partitions, then started walking in that direction; Cole followed.
The stolen passcard opened the glass door without a problem, and they hurried inside as an elevator dinged behind them. “Down here,” Cole snapped, grabbing Walter and pulling him into the first hallway.
“No,” Walter complained. “Third on the left!”
Cole put his hand on the Palan’s mouth and tried not to recoil at the odd coolness of the boy’s flesh. “In a second,” he whispered. “We have to wait for the lobby to be empty.”
Walter nodded and shoved himself away from Cole, shooting him a nasty look. They remained in the side hall, staring at each other, waiting for the muffled voices to leave. Cole finally looked away from Walter’s sneer and up and down the hallway. The doors looked identical to the ones they’d been shown earlier. A meter square. Stacked four high.
The only difference: these had names on them.
????
“I’m so happy to see the two of you getting along,” Parsona chirped as she arranged a tray of snacks and tea on the coffee table. It suddenly struck Molly how different this Parsona seemed from the other one she’d been getting to know.
Could they really be the same person? she wondered. Could years of different experiences alter someone this much, or does perpetual happiness do something weird to a person?
“Oh, yes, we’re getting along famously,” Mr. Byrne answered. “And I think we’re going to have a lot of time for catching up.” He smiled at Molly. “More than enough time.”
“I just wish Mortimor could be here. I can’t tell you how lovely that would be.”
“I would love that as well,” Mr. Byrne said through a tight smile.
Molly gritted her simulated teeth. He was toying with her, and it drove her crazy. Then, something occurred to her—
“Why am I doing this?” she asked out loud.
“Doing what, dear?” Parsona blew across her tea, poised for her first sip.
Molly stood up from her chair. “This.” She spread her arms out. “Pretending that any of this is real. Listening to this creep tell me—”
The room shivered. Molly looked at her feet as the floor waved. Her dress became a brighter shade of yellow, spotted with cheery flowers.
“Now, now,” her mother chided her teasingly. “Let’s not spoil the mood.”
Molly leaned down close to her mom and pointed at Mr. Byrne. “Who in hyperspace is he?”
“Mollie! Language, please.”
But Molly was in no mood for pleasantries. She had no idea how much time she had left, and she couldn’t afford to leave these two together.
“It isn’t a coincidence that we’re here at the same time, Mom. I think this guy followed me here. I think he wants something from you. I—”
“Please,” Parsona said, “let’s settle down, dear.”
Molly opened her mouth to continue, but Mr. Byrne interrupted. “She’s right, Parsona,” he said. “I did come here because of her.”
“What?” Parsona asked.
“I told you,” said Molly.
Mr. Byrne leaned over and put one hand on Parsona’s arm. “I came as soon as the gentlemen here at LIFE called. They said your daughter had arrived to visit with you after sixteen years of neglect.”
He looked up at Molly, an evil grin on his face.
“And I think she came here to kill you.”
????
Cole peeked around the corner and watched the elevator doors snap shut. They were alone again. He turned to tell Walter, but the boy had already rushed down the hall. Cole set off after him, voicing his doubts: “How could they have gotten her down here this fast? We were with her just half an hour ago.”
“How long did it take uss to get down here?” Walter hissed over his shoulder.
“Maybe she talked them into showing her the body. That was always the prime objective here, anyway.”
“Here sshe iss,” Walter announced. He stopped in front of a column of square doors about thirty meters into the corridor. He glanced at his computer as if to confirm it, but he shouldn’t have needed to. Her drawer was the third from the bottom, the handle a little over two meters off the ground. Beside it, the LCD readout showed, plain as day: “Mollie Fyde.”
“Damn,” Cole said.
“Ssee?”
“You think it’s safe to open it? I mean, if she’s in there?”
“Iss it ssafe not to?”
Cole frowned, then held out his hand. Walter reluctantly placed his stolen pass-card in it.
“I want that back,” Walter told him.
Reaching up, Cole swiped the card through the reader, which made the LCD screen flash green, just as the demo unit had. A faint clicking noise followed. Cole grabbed the handle and gave it a tug; the door snapped open. A thick metal tray slid out slowly, like a robotic tongue.
Neither of them could see what lie on top. Walter hopped as high as he could, over and over. Cole grabbed the edge and put a foot on the lowest handle on the wall. He pulled himself up and peered inside.
The tongue mocked him. The mouth was empty.
????
Molly felt her face flush with heat after Byrne’s accusation. She couldn’t fib well, even in a simulated world. She thought it would be safe to drag the discussion out into the open: What could possibly hurt me in this make-believe place?
Parsona studied her face, eyes wide and searching. The scrutiny felt torturous, mostly because Byrne had spoken the truth.
“I’m not—” she began, but the world shivered, losing substance.
“I’ll not hear any more of this,” Parsona said flatly. The cabin disappeared. A dark room took its place. Light and noise from behind Molly made her spin around.
It was a play. Characters on a stage danced while a melodious voice carried through the room from some unseen singer.
“Sit down,” someone hissed at her.
Molly spun around and searched for the source of the complaint. Around her, a shapeless crowd shifted and stirred in the darkness. She looked for an escape, but knees walled her off on either side. An empty seat, obviously meant for her, seemed to scoot forward. Her mother and Mr. Byrne glared at her from the next row back.
“Mother, please. Get us out of—”
“Shhhhhhh!” sang a chorus of leaking air.
“Stop it!” Molly yelled at her mother.
The theater descended into a deeper darkness, then a bright light flashed in Molly’s eyes. A stranger in a mask leaned over her. She tried to ask a question, but she couldn’t speak. Molly fought with her arms and legs, but she was strapped down tight, her mouth forced open and tasting of metal.
In the back of her throat, a puddle of her own spit threatened to drown her. She tried to shake her head back and forth, but a padded headrest constrained even that movement. “Nnngh,” she managed.
“Suction, please,” the man said, his blue mask puffing out with the words.
Molly felt more metal in her mouth and heard the slurping sound of her saliva being pulled from under her tongue. Her eyes widened with fear, but relief from the drowning came as the puddle of spit was removed.
“We had such a good dentist on Earth when I was growing up,” she heard her mother say. “I always worried about what we would do for you on Lok. We were going to be here for quite some time, I was sure. Luckily, we have Dr. Daniels in town now.”
Her mother’s voice emanated from beyond her peripheral. Molly couldn’t move her head to see her, to plead with tear-streaked eyes for an end to the torture.
The doctor held his hand in front of her and bent his fingers in a small wave. “Just a routine cleaning, Mollie,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. You girls never have cavities.”
Molly struggled to form words, but gargled and choked on her own spit instead. Somewhere in the back of her mouth, where only she could hear it, she begged them to let her up. The dentist just forced her jaw open wider and reached for something.
Molly could hear Mr. Byrne speaking just as a tooth-scrubber whirred to life, its high-pitched whine filling her ears as it pressed hard against her teeth. She tried to keep her moans of discomfort low. She strained to hear the conversation taking place just a few feet away. But as saliva pooled up beyond her tongue, her head filled with the scream of ground enamel and the dull roar of torturous agony.
Her mother, of course, was perfectly happy.
????
Cole lowered himself from the empty tray. “You idiot. I told you there was nothing down here.”
“Then what about her name?” Walter asked.
“Maybe her father bought her a spot here for the future. Ever think about that? Look how it’s spelled.” Cole felt kinetic and knew Molly would be as well when she found out he’d let Walter drag him down here. They were probably looking for them right now while that Stanley reported his card stolen.
His stolen card.
Cole slapped his own forehead and turned to Walter. “Gods! I’m the idiot. We’re sitting around waiting on Molly to try some miracle with her mom, and here we are in the very place we needed to get to!” He jerked around to scan nearby compartments. “Her mother must be here somewhere. We can pull the plug ourselves!”
Walter got busy with his computer while Cole went down each column, stooping to look at the bottom drawers and leaping up to check the ones high off the ground. “You find it?”
“Different hallway,” Walter said. “And we have a problem.”
“What’s that?” Cole asked, pausing his search.
Walter held up his screen. It showed a camera feed, revealing the lobby down the hall. A dozen Stanleys could be seen fanning out, pulling out their passcards and swiping them in the various glass partitions.
“Is that live?”
“Yesss,” Walter hissed. “Idiot,” he added under his breath.
Cole wanted to point a finger in his face and remind the boy just who had wanted to come down here and who’d been against it, but he could hear footsteps moving down the hallway. He used his accusatory digit to point upwards, instead.
Walter allowed him to give a boost. One of the boy’s boots kicked at the air, grazing Cole’s nose as he pulled himself up onto the slab. Cole grabbed the lip and hoisted himself after, his feet scrambling for any edge along the wall of doors. He could hear the footsteps squeaking down the hall as they turned to survey another corridor. Cole reached out to pull the door shut, activating the withdrawal of the metal tray.
He turned to Walter, who ducked away from the roof of the mouth as the tongue drew them inside. “Can I shut the door?” he asked.
He could see Walter’s bright silvery eyes in the darkness as the slab pulled him in as well. Walter blinked once.
“I don’t know,” he whispered back.
Drenards, Cole thought. If he left it cracked, they might be spotted. If he closed it, they could be trapped.
A solitary set of footsteps drew near. Cole didn’t know what to do; he felt paralyzed. Then, trusting Walter for some inexplicable reason—that he’d be able to open it from within—he snapped the hatch shut. Out of the darkness, a soft glow radiated from Walter’s little computer, illuminating the boy’s face and the walls around him.
Both seemed to be made of the same alloy of metal.
The Palan looked down at the screen as he thumbed in some commands.
“That might have been a misstake,” he told Cole.
????
The wide doors on the service elevator split open, and Molly’s body slid out, feet first. The bag of fluids hanging from the gurney swayed as the Stanleys wheeled her down the hallway. A wireless repeater plugged into Molly’s headgear blinked rapidly with a strong signal. One of the Stanleys walking alongside spoke to the Stanley pushing the cart.
“Hangar six,” he said.
“Of course,” the other Stanley said. “And how long did Mr. Byrne say he would be? We can’t have him tying up a hangar all day long, even if he is a valued client.”
“Busy, busy,” one of the other Stanleys chimed.
“I am to notify him as soon as the young lady is loaded into his ship, so it shouldn’t be over an hour.”
“Excellent,” two of them said at the same time.
The same Stanley told them, “I will stay with her to collect our equipment; the rest of you can return to the rotation.”
They all agreed that this was best.
Busy, busy.
The light by hangar six shone green. Molly’s feet led the group through another set of opening doors and toward a loading ramp beyond.
????
“What do you mean, that might have been a mistake?” Cole whispered.
Walter’s eyes peered up from his screen. “The doorss aren’t on the network,” he said softly.
Cole held up a hand as the muffled sounds of footsteps went by outside. He felt torn. Part of him wanted to bang at the door and beg for it to be opened. It could be hours or days before another Stanley passed through. The other half of him urged caution, terrified of being discovered. His recent habit of touring the interior of every planet’s prison was one he had hoped to break. While he struggled to decide, the sounds outside faded back the way they came, making his mind up for him.
“What do we do?” he asked Walter.
If Molly really was in danger, they were no longer in a position to help. If she wasn’t, how long before they were found, and what kind of trouble would they get her in?
He could see Walter shrug in the glow of his display. Cole reached over and grabbed the computer, flashing it around the interior of their hiding spot. Walter hissed at him and tried to wrestle it back.
“Hold on,” Cole demanded.
He shone the light on the cables and equipment at the far reaches of the space. It looked like life-support equipment and lots of other complex gizmos.
“Anything we can use?” he asked.
The Palan settled down at the sight of the gear. He took the computer and used it to study the head harness and electrical interfaces. “I’ll try,” he informed Cole, squirming back to fiddle with the gear.
“Could we join Molly’s dream somehow?”
Walter’s eyes flashed at the suggestion. He turned to his computer and started jabbing at it intently. He looked back up at Cole, then grabbed the headgear and worked it onto his head. “I need to download ssomething,” he said with a sneer.
“Fine. Just hurry it up.”
Walter scrunched down and rested his back against the wall of the small space, his hands adjusting the headgear. By the light of the computer, Cole could see his eyes moving below his lids, pushing side to side like orbs searching for a way through his metallic skin.
The boy’s legs twitched several times, and at least two full minutes went by. The odd scene seemed to stretch out into forever. Cole considered breaking the connection, or shaking the boy, but then his eyes popped open on their own.
Wide open.
Cole turned around and tried the door, but it remained locked.
“Anything?” he asked Walter.
“Oh, yesss,” the boy said. “Everything. And I found Molly.” He removed the headgear and brought his computer back up; Cole crawled closer to view the screen. He expected a schematic that he wouldn’t understand, or perhaps some computer code, but he recognized the feed as soon as he saw it. Video. And crystal clear. It showed Molly’s body strapped to a gurney. She looked asleep and was being pushed up a ramp and into a spaceship—but not Parsona.
“What in hyperspace?” he wondered aloud.
“Sstanley 8427,” Walter said.
“Do what?”
“Thiss iss a vissual feed from a Sstanley.”
“You can hack them?”
“Jusst the feedss.”
“So, you can’t control them or anything.”
“If I had their passscode, maybe.”
Poised on his hands and knees, Cole had to fall to one side to free up an arm. He dug in his pocket and brought out the card that had opened their little cage
“What about this guy?” he asked. “Where’s he?”
Walter snatched the card and used the light from his computer to read it. He typed something into the small keyboard and sucked air through his teeth.
“Where is he?” Cole asked again.
Walter looked up from the screen. “I think he’s looking for us.”