“Look, but don’t touch!” Albert called out gaily.
Molly and Cole half-spun toward the warning and ended up locking eyes with each other. His were green and wide, his brows raised. Molly knew what he was thinking.
“You want one,” she guessed.
“Oh, yeah, I want one. Are you kidding? This stuff is still science fiction on Earth. Crap we read about in the pulp that circulates through the Academy.” Cole lowered his voice. “And this creep uses it for his garage door.”
“Don’t forget, he’s wearing one as well. Talk about not feeling naked, he could be naked and still be invincible.” Molly looked away from the forcefield and down at her feet. “Speaking of feeling naked, I’m sorry about what I—”
Cole reached over and squeezed her hand. “Forget it. I’m sorry too. Hey, you think his field comes from that black device on his belt?”
Molly turned to one side, in her peripheral she could see Albert by the workbench, explaining something to Edison. She supposed all was well between the two, the attack forgotten. “I don’t think so. More of a silent communicator. Maybe just a readout from his ship. Look, we need to play this like a simple shopping trip. The guy just wants to trade and make a buck, and we want what he has. We’re as powerless here as we were on Glemot, maybe more so. So don’t make any moves we might regret.”
He nodded and dropped her hand. “What do you make of that Drenard? I almost rushed the poor thing to take its head off. Could you believe we were seeing one in person like that?”
Molly looked away. “Let’s talk about it later. I’m . . . I’m not sure what I felt. No, that’s a lie. I . . . I felt the same thing you did, but I’m not sure what I feel right now. Sick, I guess. I don’t like seeing anything chained up like that.”
“Oh, gimmee a break. I remember you checking Orville’s restraints with care. And that was a Drenard in there.”
“I said I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Later. Just stay focused on what we came here for.”
Cole scrunched up his face and turned back to the forcefield. “Sure thing, Captain.”
“Hello, guys?” Albert called across the hangar. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife.” A large woman stood beside him, wiping her hands on her apron, prepping them for a polite shaking.
Molly led Cole over to the rest of the group. Her eyes flickered over to the distasteful sight of Parsona and Lady Liberty, still conjoined. The sense of violation would not go away, and it left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Gladys Gaines.” Her outstretched hand still had some white cooking residue on it.
Molly accepted it and found her grip warm, inviting. She reciprocated the gentle shake. “Molly Fyde,” she said.
Albert lifted a hand to the side of his mouth for another loud aside. “The ship’s captain,” he said, obviously impressed with Molly’s age or gender. She wasn’t sure which irked her more. Actually, that’s not right. She definitely knew which one.
Cole repeated the ritual with Mrs. Gaines, introducing himself.
“What can I get you kids to drink? Tea? Coffee? You’ll be joining us for dinner, I hope?”
Molly lost herself in the surreal scene as her crew put in beverage orders with a gun-runner’s wife. They were understandably eager to drink a beverage that wasn’t in a bag, but their excitement stabbed at her chest. This wasn’t supposed to be fun.
Edison’s joy hurt her the most. She recalled that glorious meal on Glemot and realized, for the first time, that the poor pup was used to eating like that regularly. It had been a unique and glorious one-time event for her, but for his taste buds, it was the accepted standard. Eating would probably never be the same for him.
Albert snuck up behind Molly and put an arm across her shoulders, causing her to flinch like the chained-up Drenard. “Is the furry one your Weapons Officer?” he asked her.
They didn’t have a weapons officer, she nearly told him. They’d never had any weapons before; they’d only been a crew for two weeks. Fortunately, she stopped herself, understanding the need to tell Albert as little as possible. She already felt as if he knew too much.
“Actually, that would be Cole,” she finally said. “He also does navigation duties.”
“Ah, excellent! Then I can deal with one person for both armaments and the star charts we discussed. I’m assuming you’re still interested in that triple package? It really can’t be beat, you know. And I’ll provide free updates for the next fifty years, just stop back by anytime. Now, Walter and I have been talking payment. The chap is very sharp, thinks highly of some of the goods you guys have to offer. But I have to tell you, the Navy tech he’s bartering with isn’t quite as rare as he’s making out. I’ll be doing you a favor, honestly, to take it off your hands. But don’t you worry about any of that nonsense just yet. Let’s eat some dinner and get some rest. We’ll have plenty of time for business tomorrow.”
But Molly couldn’t relax on command, even if she wanted to.
••••
Later, in her bunk, her belly stuffed with a home-cooked meal, Molly still couldn’t make herself relax. Despite her exhaustion, there was no way she’d be able to sleep. And it wasn’t just seeing the Drenard for a second time—curled up in a ball on the cockpit floor as they returned from dinner. Nor was it the pressure of the business to conduct the following day. These didn’t help, to be sure, but Molly’s torment came from other thoughts.
First, she couldn’t help but second-guess her decision to avoid the Navy. Cole was persuasive with his theories, but she trusted Lucin completely, which made running feel wrong. Was she really betraying the closest thing she had to a family just because some dreamy boy batted his eyes at her? Lucin would feel betrayed when Parsona returned with chaff pods and laser canons. It seemed logical to her when she agreed to this mess, but now she was hearing her crazy explanation from Lucin’s perspective, and it sounded like pure gibberish.
Then there were the deaths she’d been responsible for. Glemot was almost too big a mistake to fully comprehend. Even as used as she’d been, she felt the full weight of a race’s genocide on her shoulders. The depression she’d dipped into briefly wouldn’t leave her, as hard as she tried to fake it for Cole’s sake. She could feel how edgy and dangerous she’d become, able to snap without provocation. It worried her.
And the more personal, up-close deaths haunted her with a more vivid ferocity. The sight of Edison flaying that council member. The numbness in her elbow when she struck that Navy man. The look on his face as the rains of Palan smeared him against that windshield.
Her big adventure and romance in space had turned into a mess larger than herself. Other people were getting hurt. She had watched everything she’d hoped for and dreamed of dissipate into the cosmos or get crushed into small pieces.
Molly wondered what the other kids at Avalon High would be up to right then. How great it must feel to be developmentally stunted. They could be physical adults, but gloriously brain-dead from years of rote memorization and regurgitation. Numb to the world from playing with toys well into adulthood rather than being honed for the ugly reality of a dangerous life. Molly had always felt so superior to those kids: beyond them in wisdom, power and ability. But that solid view was developing cracks. Which of them was happier right now? Which of them continued to hurt the universe?
Molly tossed her body to its other side, trying to find a comfortable pose, as if the conundrum were physical. She had no idea how long she’d been doing this, or what time it was, when she thought she heard a noise echo back from the front of her ship. She sat upright, already developing the unnatural skill that all pilots and captains possess: the attenuation to any change in the direction of their ship’s heading and a sensitivity to any foreign sound, however slight.
She slid out of bed and pulled on her jumpsuit, eager to be awake and doing something rather than in bed and dwelling on her sadness. As she slipped her shoes on, she found herself hoping it was Cole, unable to sleep himself. Hopefully he’d be willing to talk some. Because if it was Walter reorganizing the cargo bay at this hour, she was going to have a hard time being nice.
Unfortunately, Molly had no plan for what to do if it was Albert Gaines nosing into their ship’s computer.
28
“What in hyperspace are you doing?”
Albert was leaning over the flight controls, fiddling with something on her dash. Molly felt an intense burning sensation creep along the surface of her scalp. Her entire being wanted to reach out and see if that damn shield of his was active.
“Molly!” he turned and beamed. He held a small device up for her to see. “Just checking your nav computer, seeing which adapter I would need to get those star charts installed. Didn’t want to wake you.”
“Well you should have,” she spat.
“Of course, of course. Hey, this is a strange collection of gear you have here. Some really nice stuff mixed in with some obsolete—I hate to use the word ‘junk, but let’s not beat around the bush, okay? Maybe after we get you set up with defenses and charts we can talk about swapping this SADAR out for something, let’s say—more ‘appropriate’ for the type of work this ship was designed for. I could probably work out a discount on the chaff pods if we did that trade.”
“The SADAR unit stays,” she said. “It was my father’s.”
She immediately regretted saying this. Her anger and lack of sleep made this conversation potentially dangerous. She took a deep breath. “Look, just . . . please get off my ship. I’m tired and we can do our business later, okay?”
“Sure. Absolutely. No offense meant. I’m a full-service kind of guy. You get your rest and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll check back in with you in a few hours.”
Molly waited for him to leave. She listened to the traitorous swish of her own airlock obeying his commands and then crawled into Cole’s navigation seat and tried to get some sleep.
When a hand squeezed her shoulder hours later, Molly incorporated it into a bad dream featuring Albert and Drenards. She nearly snapped the arm connected to the hand, but it shot back in fear.
“Wow. Easy, tiger. Just checking in on you.”
It was Cole.
“Gods,” Molly groaned. “You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that.”
“Do what? I touched you. And you’re in my chair.”
Molly rubbed her eyes and tried to twist the cramp out of her back. “Technically, Cole, every chair in this ship is mine.”
“Man. I was just checking in on you. I got scared when you weren’t in your room, and the door was open and I couldn’t get through the airlock to go find you. Sorry for being worried.” He turned and stalked out to the cargo bay.
“I’m sorry,” Molly called after him. “Cole, wait. I was having bad dreams, you just scared me, okay? I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
She leaned around the seat to see if he’d heard. He paused near the crew seats, his back to her. “It’s fine,” he said. “Don’t sweat it. It’s my fault, I guess. I . . . I keep forgetting that I’m just along for the ride.”
“That’s not true,” said Molly. “We’re in this together.”
Cole looked back over his shoulder. “Are we? ’Cause I thought you were running to the Navy when we got outta here. That you felt like I was controlling you—”
“I didn’t mean that. My head’s been screwy since Glemot. . .” She glanced at the other chair. “If you wanna talk. . .”
“Nah, I’m fine. Gonna get dressed and hail our jailor.” He marched off toward the rear of the ship.
Molly grabbed his helmet from its bin above her and flopped back into the chair. She checked her reflection in the visor, forcing a smile that seemed wooden and unnatural to her. “Well, I’m not fine,” she told herself.
Cole’s voice rumbled through the hull from the loud hailer. Molly put the helmet back and scurried toward the airlock. The boys emerged from their rooms, weary-eyed and confused.
“Morning,” Molly said as she joined them by the airlock.
“Morning, Captain,” Walter hissed.
“Pleasant awakenings,” grumbled Edison.
Molly squeezed Walter’s shoulder and patted Edison on the arm. I’m fine, she lied to herself.
Cole’s voice boomed in the distance, muffled by Parsona’s steel shell. She stuck her head in the airlock as he repeated his request in the loud-hailer. She could see the volume cranked all the way up, a setting used more for atmospheric flight than hangar bays.
The outer door whisked open, causing Cole to jump back.
“Ah, good morning!” said Albert. Without even needing to look, he reached in and turned the volume all the way down. “We can scratch off looking at hailer catalogs this morning, can’t we?” He said it with a friendly smile and no trace of sarcasm. His hand remained on the knob, touching it like he owned it. “Come, let’s get down to business, shall we?” He turned and made his way through the mating tube toward his own ship.
“Be right there,” Molly called after him. “Leave the door open for us so we don’t have to ring you, okay?”
He turned, the smile returning to his lips a hair too late. “My pleasure, Captain. Just trying to give you kids your privacy. Come to the lobby when you get freshened up. I’ll be taking care of some paperwork.” He strolled off, calling out as he went, “Just because I treat every customer like they’re my only concern doesn’t mean they’re my only customers!”
