“Sservicse elevator,” Walter said, looking at his computer.
“That’s our way out? Which way?”
“No, that’ss what’ss heading thiss way. We need to go that way,” he said, pointing through the partition.
Cole looked down the hallway at the glass door. “Can you stop the service elevator? No point in what you—what we did if they get here in time.”
Walter nodded.
“While you’re at it, call a single elevator to this floor and send the rest down to the center of the moon.” Cole placed a hand on Walter’s elbow. “And walk while you’re doing it. We need to get close to that partition.”
••••
Molly had her ear pressed to her mother’s collarbone, listening to the distant thrum of her mom’s voice as it resonated through her body. She spaced out again, not really hearing what her mom said, but rather marveling at how real her lap, their embrace, seemed.
And yet, the illusion remained incomplete.
It wasn’t her real mother she embraced, but a nostalgic recollection of her. This felt more like the comfort of a stranger, perhaps consoling a child for the loss of a parent.
Molly felt saddened by the irony of it all. A massive gulf had formed between she and her mom in such a short time. And while they were pressed close together—
And then the world went blank.
White light.
Everything was white light.
She had no eyes, and yet the searing brightness filled her vision. It was so intense, it made a sound, as if ocular neurons bled over to auditory ones. The result was something between a drone and a hiss. And her world smelled like an electrical fire, or rubber burning. Molly could taste it, but she had no mouth.
Her body floated, but not in some painful void—her body was the void.
She tried to scream or call out, but the agonizing hiss that filled her universe could not be modulated nor reduced. She was trapped in the center of a star, hot, white, burning, blinding, noisy.
And yet, her body was unwilling to melt away and end the torture.
It went on forever.
Unyielding.
28
Two elevator doors stood open on the other side of the glass partition. A Stanley, its back to Cole and Walter, faced the open doors, surveying the curious behavior from its less-evolved mechanical brethren. To one side, the human couple stood and conferred, going back and forth as if considering the purchase of a new spaceship.
“Now,” Cole whispered.
Walter swiped his passcard and the glass slid away. Cole pushed off the tiled floor like a sprinter. The sound of him coming made the Stanley turn around; its eyes locked onto the source of the squeaks just as Cole went airborne.
Slamming into the Stanley felt like tackling a refrigerator. Cole’s air rushed out of him as the Stanley flew backwards, skidding into the elevator he’d been peering into. Walter ran past, entering the other elevator door. Cole paused to regain his breath, but the Stanley had no such requirement. The android shoved off the floor of the elevator and rose with an unnatural power. Cole scrambled on all fours into the other elevator.
“Shut it!” he yelled, before his feet even crossed the threshold.
Walter swiped his stolen passcard and the doors began to move, the mechanical slabs closing with an agonizing slowness.
Nothing at all like the speed the Stanley used to dash between them just before they sealed tight.
“Hi,” Cole said. “We’ve lost our tour guide, perhaps you’ve—”
It happened so quickly, it felt like teleportation. One moment, Cole was kneeling in the center of the elevator, trying to smooth talk the android. The next, he found himself pinned against the rear video wall, his feet off the ground, metal vises around his neck. The Stanley had both hands around his throat; the android began squeezing the life out of him.
Cole kicked his legs in the air, looking for something to support himself on, but unforgiving metal formed walls on both sides. He twisted his head to look for Walter, saw the boy frozen by the elevator controls. Cole tried to mouth a plea, but all he could manage was a grimace.
Walter sneered back at him.
••••
Time did not elapse in the buzzing, scorching, droning whiteness. It had gone on forever, or it had been a mere moment. There was no difference.
Then it stopped, replaced with the dentist chair scene once more. Molly found herself strapped down as someone hovered over her. She blinked him into focus. It wasn’t the dentist—it was a Stanley.
She worked her jaw, trying to ignore the residual hiss in her head as she regained her senses. She could barely hear herself ask if her three hours were up. The Stanley nodded. Something else swayed in her vision. A clear bag of fluids. The IV.
She looked past it and the Stanley to the metal panels above her. This isn’t the visitation room, she realized.
“Where am I?”
The Stanley ignored her. He tightened one of the straps across her chest before packing away various electrical gear. When he pulled the contraption from her head, he did it so roughly that it took clumps of her hair with it.
“Ow!” she complained. “Hey, loosen the straps, and I’ll help you.”
The Stanley said nothing. Molly heard him zip a bag below her, then watched him rise and stroll away.
“Help me take these straps off!” she begged.
Footsteps banged down a metal ramp—then she was alone.
Molly pressed her chin to her sternum to peer down her body. She was lying flat on a hard surface, dozens of strips of webbing pinning her down. She could see an IV needle taped to the crook of her left elbow.
She gasped, then began crying out for help.
But the only person heading her way at that moment was a tall, thin man, who only needed to stop at the registration counter to thank his hosts for their call and hospitality.
••••
Cole felt his head lighten as blood struggled to reach his brain. He would pass out before the choking killed him, he realized. His eyes watered from the effort it took to breathe—and the odd sensation of not being able to manage a sound, even a grunt.
He pleaded with his eyes in Walter’s direction, who still hadn’t moved from his corner of the elevator. With both hands, he pried at the fingers on his throat, but it was like trying to bend steel. He kicked and punched at the Stanley, but only hurt himself. Grabbing the collar of the android’s suit, he clenched the fabric in pain as his grip on consciousness slipped.
One of his hands came loose as he began blacking out. It slid down Stanley’s coat, lifeless, and caught in the robot’s pocket. He felt something there. A feeble signal tried to worm its way through Cole’s dying brain:
Passcard.
Some still-conscious sliver of him heard the message. He fumbled for the plastic card with a numb hand, as uncoordinated as a poorly controlled robot. He felt it between his finger and thumb, yanked it free, and tossed it in Walter’s direction.
Then his world went black.
••••
Walter watched the glint of red plastic fly through the air and settle on the elevator floor. Cole’s body had stopped fighting, his legs and head completely limp, but the Stanley continued to hold him off the ground.
It hadn’t noticed Walter yet.
This is working out pretty good, he thought.
Then he wondered what would come next. Would he have to fly a spaceship to rescue Molly? Would he have to fight a Stanley in the hangar hall? So many unknowns ahead, but one thing he felt sure of: he could get rid of Cole any time he wanted. The human thought he was stupid, which made him the dumb one.
He reached for the card, amazed at how easily his fingers could pry it off the floor. He studied it, then carefully punched the ID number into his computer. Taking control of these things had already become routine. He imagined the power he could wield if he lived here, or if he could just take a few of these androids with him.
I’d need better control inputs, he thought.
It wasn’t obvious which direction on the analog stick would loosen the grip and which would tighten it. He tried one way and watched Cole’s face turn a darker shade of purple. He chuckled to himself and moved the stick the other way.
The human boy fell free and collapsed in a heap.
Walter stepped around the motionless robot to try to rouse him.
He sure hoped he wouldn’t regret saving this loser.
Again.
••••
She was in a starship, but not hers. Human-built. A GU-Class bird. Molly couldn’t tell the exact model from her surroundings. The interior panels looked new—or possibly just incredibly well-maintained. A medical station had been cobbled together and secured against a bulkhead. She could almost see across and into the cockpit, but the strap across her shoulders made it impossible to turn or sit up.
Outside, she heard footsteps; they stomped her way, clanging up the cargo ramp and near her feet. She didn’t have time to scream for help, they arrived so fast.
One of the figures yelled her name.
“Cole?”
He bent over her, his face red, his hair matted down with sweat. “Hold on,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“What’s going on?” Molly asked. “Are you okay? Your neck looks—”
“I’m fine,” he assured her.
“Thankss to me.”
Molly looked down her body to see Walter fumbling with the straps across her thighs.
“What’s going on?” she asked again.
Cole flipped back the strap across her shoulders and helped her sit up. “No idea and no time to discuss it. We need to get out of here.”
“I ssaved Cole’ss life.” Walter said. “Now I’m resscuing you.”
Molly pried the tape off of her arm and slid the IV needle out with a gasp, mostly from the sight of the metal leaving her flesh. “What’re you saving me from?”
Cole tore open a box of bandages, spilling them everywhere. She watched him pluck one and fumble with the paper. “Whose ship is this?” she asked. “Where’s Parsona?”
Cole grabbed her arm and took her fingers off the wound so he could apply the adhesive strip.
“No idea and no idea,” he whispered. “Our plan was just to get to you. We haven’t had a lot of time to think past that.”
“Company,” Walter told them. He peered at the computer screen, but Molly could hear for herself: the sound of more feet approaching.
Cole reached over and hit the cargo ramp controls, bringing the door up. The stomping outside quickened into a run. Someone yelled, “Hey!” as the ramp came up too far to board.
Molly’s head continued to spin, making her useless in whatever was going on, but she couldn’t stand to be alone, either. She swung her feet off the gurney, steadied herself, then staggered over to join Walter and Cole by the door.
When an angry face flashed in front of the porthole, her wobbly legs nearly gave out.
“Byrne!” She pushed Walter to the side for a better view, holding onto him and Cole for stability. The tall, pale man stood outside, looking at the cargo ramp in a mixture of confusion and fury. When he saw Molly peering through the glass, his eyes narrowed, his lips clamping down into a flat line.
The line turned into an evil smile as he reached to the side of the porthole. Through the door, Molly could hear the hinges of an access panel open, and knew he was about to manually lower the ramp.
“We have to do something,” Cole said, looking around the bay.
“What?” Molly asked. “He’s got the captain’s codes.”
Walter fumbled with his computer while Cole looked around in frustration. Molly remained frozen at the sight of the strange man in the flesh—just as he had appeared in her mother’s fantasy.
Walter hissed. Molly turned to see him smiling—or sneering. The green environment and atmosphere lights above their heads flashed from green to red. Molly spun back to the porthole, confused. Wisps of white could be seen rushing up, swirling like a disturbed fog. The air in the hangar was rushing out through the ceiling; Byrne’s jacket flapped up around his thin shoulders and vibrated there.
Molly watched him peer from the access panel to the opening hangar doors above. He looked back though the porthole at her as his suit settled in the new vacuum outside.
Byrne’s nostrils flared, despite the absence of air.
He appeared extremely annoyed.
••••
“What did you do?” Cole asked Walter.
“Killed him.”
Molly shook her head, her eyes never leaving Byrne’s. “He’s not dead. I don’t think he’s human.” She turned to her two friends. “How are we gonna get to Parsona?”
Cole pointed at the cockpit. “Can we fly?”
“I know where sshe iss parked,” said Walter.
Molly nodded. “Cole, round up some space suits, we’ll still be in a vacuum when we get there. Walter, come navigate.”
Cole headed off to the rear of the ship while a giddy Walter followed her to the cockpit. The two of them settled into the flight seats. Byrne had a 500-series, Molly noticed. The seats were closer together in a narrower cockpit, and duplicate flight controls sat in front of each crew member.
“Don’t touch anything,” she commanded.
Walter nodded and pulled the harness over his shoulders, working it tight. Molly started the warm-up for the thrusters. She wasn’t worried about Mr. Byrne getting inside—overriding the atmosphere sensors could only be done from within the airlock—but she did feel a sense of panic rubbing off from Walter and Cole. Yet again, they needed to get away in a hurry.
And the fancy thrusters were taking forever to check themselves out—too many mechanical systems in this model had given way to solid-state electronics.
