Molly Fyde and the Blood of Billions
Page 12

“You’re lucky to know her as Cat. Most people don’t.” Browne shuff-led some papers around on his desk and came up with a few stubs. He handed them out to Molly. “Twenty each.”
“What are they?”
“Tickets to see Cat.”
One of the card players chuckled again and got another visual blasting from the sheriff. Molly reached into her pocket for some change from the cantina and held it out. Sheriff Browne looked at the two coins.
“Just one ticket?”
“Just one,” Molly said.
Her heartbeat quickened as she took the stub.
She was getting close, she could feel it.
10
Cole startled awake as if from a bad dream. His arms and legs jerk-ed reflexively but wouldn’t move; they were pinned in place. He blinked, gradually bringing the world into focus, fearing more of the bright light. What he found proved worse.
He was strapped to an inclined platform, his legs tied down a meter apart, the thick ropes looped around his ankles and through holes in the solid steel. He glanced up at his hands, which were similarly bound high over his head. He tried jerking down on them and felt his bruised ribs sing out in pain, jolts of electricity lancing from his chest to every new bruise across his body.
“Good luck with that,” someone said.
Cole turned to his side. He had to lean his head forward to look around his own arm, then saw Riggs tied up a few meters away, strapped to an identical structure: an angled sheet of steel halfway between flat and vertical. He also noticed several empty racks scattered about the small room, all roughly arranged around a gated drain in the center of the floor.
“Couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not,” Riggs said. “Was gonna be pissed if you’d already died on me.”
Cole grimaced. It felt like the room was swaying, but it could’ve been a problem with his head. He leaned it back against the steel and thought he could hear the crunching of snow reverberating up through the metal contraption and into his skull. He assumed they were still on the move, just in a bigger craft. Above, a ceiling of dark plastic allowed a wan glow of light to filter into the room. The spots were gone from his vision, but his headache lingered.
“How long have I been out?” he asked.
“No clue,” Riggs said. “Longer than I was, obviously.”
“Yeah,” said Cole. He tried to push up with his restrained ankles to take some of the pressure off his ribs, but every movement caused him to wince in pain.
“Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”
Cole looked over and saw a smirk on Riggs’s face. He decided to roll with the jab, stunned that Riggs could actually take pleasure in Cole’s condition as if he had nothing to fear himself.
“What do you think they want with us?” Cole asked, changing the subject and also trying to remind Riggs that they were on the same side and had a common enemy to worry about.
“I’m guessing it’s nothing good, but at least they seem to want us alive. Maybe ransom. Surely they’re not dumb enough to kill a Navy pilot, which means I’m probably safe. You still got no clue where you jumped us?”
Cole wondered how best to tell Riggs that they might be in hyperspace. But then, he couldn’t shake the doubt, the feeling that it had been an auditory hallucination. He couldn’t even remember what he’d heard, exactly. He glanced down at his flightsuit, looking for the bulge of the red band in his breast pocket, but he was unable to tell if it was there or not.
“You didn’t double-check your jump vector, did you? We could be anywhere in the galaxy right now, right?” Riggs groaned. “Flankin’ useless.”
Cole clenched his jaw to hold back the retort forming in his throat. He twisted his arm in the restraints, trying to force his thumb flat so he could pull it through the knotted rope.
“Well, at least they’re Human,” Cole told Riggs, trying to change the subject. “I think so, anyway. They were speaking English around me.”
“I can do you one better. They speak Late-Millennial English.”
“Do what? How can you tell that?”
“Junior Academy poetry reading.” Riggs grunted; it sounded as if he were attempting to arrange himself more comfortably, or pull himself free. “I had to memorize that accent for a recital.” He said the last in a strange voice, one that nearly matched what Cole had heard from the men.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Cole said.
“What? Me in poetry class? Or that you either discovered time travel or jumped us to a frozen rock full of Late-Millennial poets?”
“They don’t hit like poets,” said Cole.
“Yeah, you’re right, but they don’t have to be poets, just from the same era.”
“Twenty-first century?”
“Late. Or early twenty second. Jeez, man, did you sleep through English and history?”
“Yeah, I was more interested in Planetary Astronomy. Listen, I don’t think we’re on a planet. What would you say if I told you we were in—?”
A click of metal and an explosion of light cut him off. Cole shut his eyes and turned his head to the side as hinges squealed, and a door across the room opened. He waited until he heard it slam shut—returning the small space to a comfortably lit state—before reopening his eyes. He blinked rapidly and tried to focus on the shape shuffling toward him. Several men wrapped in fur had joined them in the cramped space. Two of them crouched down on either side of the door, their goggles off and dangling around their necks. One had the fur over his face pulled down, exposing a snarl.
The third man approached Cole and Riggs. He slowly pulled his goggles off and pushed his arm through the strap to secure them around his elbow. His face was completely covered with strips of fur, dotted with melting snow. Reaching up, the man began unwrapping himself, gradually revealing a tan face with a leathery complexion and a head topped with a mop of bright, blonde hair.
A mouth was exposed, smiling, his white teeth standing out against a rich tan and the dark creases in his skin. The man looked like a surfer—like someone who had spent his entire life on the beach. Cole had a hard time matching that neck-up look with the garb for an endless winter.
“What do you want with us?” Riggs asked.
The man turned to him. “A few answers,” he said calmly. “Oh, and then your undying loyalty, of course.” His smile broadened. His voice was warm, deep, and thick with a forgotten accent. It harkened back to a time when English was spoken by a minority of Humans, back before it gathered the rich pronunciations that would come with universalizing the language. It reminded Cole of some old pre-holo vids, flat stuff he had watched in Portugal as a kid.
Riggs laughed. “Not the best way to win us over, asshole!”
Cole ground his teeth together, wishing Riggs would calm down. He watched the blonde man pull off his gloves and tuck them into his belt. Every motion seemed both purposeful and relaxed. An odd combination, yet seductive, like watching an expert perform some complex task without pause or worry, just sure precision. The man reminded Cole of one of his old flight instructors: rugged and handsome in an ageless way, a guy who could speak through a smile and somehow make you want to follow him anywhere.
“Actually, Captain Riggs, we’ve found this to be the best way to win people over.”
“Do I know you?” Riggs stammered.
“You may’ve heard of me,” the man said. “My name’s Joshua. Joshua O’Connell.”
Cole felt a twinge of recognition; he looked to Riggs, who was shaking his head.
“How do you know who I am?” Riggs asked.
The man laughed. It was like warm honey being poured into Cole’s ears. The two men by the door joined in, whether by some shared joke or sense of duty, it was hard to tell.
“Your name’s on your flightsuit,” Joshua said, pointing at his chest.
The two men by the door laughed harder. Cole watched Riggs turn red as he glanced down at his chest. Cole did the same, looking at his flightsuit from Parsona, the one with Molly’s father’s name on it.
Joshua waved down the two hyenas by the door and smiled warmly at Riggs. “Normally, I leave these orientations to my subordinates. They break you down, I build you up, that sort of thing. However,” he turned to Cole. “You are causing quite the stir. Got people whispering all up the chain of command. Enough to make my new boss pay a visit.”
“He’s nobody,” Riggs said. “A flunky. You leave him be.”
Cole glared at Riggs, begging with his eyes for him to be quiet.
“Now, now, lads.” Joshua clapped his hands in front of him and left them clasped. The double-fist moved up and down as he spoke. “Let’s not think about what you should or shouldn’t say to me. My advice? Just skip the resistance bit. Assume we’re already the best of friends.” He spread his hands out to include the two goons by the door. “All of us will be on the same team before you know it. The sooner, the better.”
“Cool,” said Riggs. “When do we get to dress in coon skins and tie you guys up?”
Joshua’s smile faded. His bright eyebrows came down over his eyes, draping his sockets in darkness. “Look, boys, I know you have a lot of that Academy nonsense rattling around in your skulls, lord knows we get our share of noobs here—”
“Noobs?” Riggs asked.
Joshua turned to him. His eyes were bright, despite the dimness of the light filtering through the dark ceiling above. “Newbies,” he said. “People that don’t know how to calculate proper jump coordinates.” He walked over to stand close to Riggs; Cole followed with his eyes. “I don’t know where you kids thought you were jumping to, but something got in your way.” He spread his arms. “Welcome to hyperspace. Now let’s stop annoying me with questions and start soothing me with answers.”
“Hyperspace?” Riggs leaned forward against his restraints. “What are you talking about?”
Joshua started to say something, but he turned instead to Cole. His mouth remained hinged open, hovering around a half-formed word.Slowly, his frozen expression transformed into a smile. He snapped his fingers at the two men by the door.
“Why aren’t you just as surprised?” he asked Cole as the other men crossed the room.
Cole pulled against the knots around his wrists, dragging himself up the incline as much as he could. He took a deep breath once his diaphragm had the weight off and then slid back down. He felt winded just from being tied up in the position; it wasn’t conducive to long conversations.
“I’m shocked speechless, is all,” he finally said.
The two men walked toward Riggs, disappearing from view behind Cole’s arm. There was a loud screeching noise as they pushed Riggs’s rack around, lining up the base with the drain on the floor. One of the goons approached Joshua and held out his hand.
Reaching in a fold of his furs, Joshua brought out a bag of purple fluid and handed it to the guy, who set it on the ground near the drain.
“What’s your story?” Joshua asked.
“I’m just a noob,” Cole said, repeating the strange word but without the ancient accent. “A flunky, just like he said.”
Riggs shook his head. “Don’t tell them anything!” With his rack adjusted, Cole could now see him without straining his neck.
Joshua signaled to one of the goons; the man dug a thumb in Riggs’s armpit, causing him to gurgle with pain.
“What can it hurt?” Cole asked his old friend, pleading with him to go along so whatever happened, they’d do it quick.
“Precisely,” said Joshua, turning to Riggs and waving the goon off. “The only way it hurts is if you refuse to talk.” He turned back to Cole and lowered his voice. “Who did you contact with the D-band?”
“The what?” Cole scanned the three men. “Wait, what year do you think it is?” He wondered if Riggs’s time-travel joke had any merit—
Joshua shook his head. “We know what year it is, now stop asking questions and start answering them. Who did you contact with the band?”
“Nobody,” Cole said, wondering how they even knew what the thing was for. “I heard some voices, that’s all.” He glanced over at Riggs. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“What did the voices say?”
“That you were coming. And welcome to hyperspace.”
“You knew?” Riggs hissed. Cole turned to his friend, saw his eyes wide with astonishment. Riggs grunted in agony as the goon dug his furry mitt into his ribs again.
Cole grimaced with empathic pain and looked away. He turned to Joshua. “Please stop,” he begged.
“Are you coming from Lok?” Joshua asked.
Cole swallowed and shook his head.
“Speak up.”
“Never been there.”
Joshua pointed a finger at him. “But you know something, don’t you? You recognized the name of the planet.”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“But not as part of an invasion? Maybe an alien force with a different name?”
“No.”
Joshua’s finger shook. “Tell me what you know about Lok or I’ll have your friend’s limbs removed.”
One of the goons laughed. Joshua snapped his fingers in the man’s direction and the goon fell silent. Cole stole a glance at Riggs, whose lips were pursed thin and tight.
“I know someone who was born there. That’s all.”
“Do you, now?”
There was a knocking at the other side of the metal door. The three men put on their goggles; Riggs leaned away as the man beside him let go of his neck. One of the goons walked over to the door and opened it, letting in a flash of light.