Molly Fyde and the Parsona Rescue
Page 25

Her growing mistrust melted when she heard the rattle and clang of construction filtering through the trees. A shifting light could be seen ahead, dancing like a hundred fairies. It sounded and looked like a party of sprites celebrating by banging pots and pans.
They followed their guide through a line of trees and popped into a massive clearing. Molly gasped aloud. Hundreds of Glemots crawled over the frame of her ship, many of them wearing straps on their wrists that glowed with enough light to work by. They worked furiously and efficiently. Lines of smaller Glemots passed parts along, communicating softly.
Ahead of them stood one large adult who surveyed the progress, his paws on his hips. Their escort approached this figure and tapped him on the shoulder. The adult whirled to take in Molly and Cole. She thought she recognized his posture, but couldn’t make out his face, silhouetted as it was by the floating lights beyond.
Their escort returned. “Follow,” he said. The other Glemot spun to face the work before him.
Molly led Cole down to the ship, hope rising in her chest. Fifty meters away from Parsona, they were spotted and Walter came bolting out of the cargo bay, his face almost nothing but teeth. He rushed straight for Molly and practically tackled her with a hug.
“Molly,” he said, his silver face pressing against her shoulder.
She could feel the coolness of his skin warming with joy. She hugged him with one arm and fought to keep the other from being broken again.
After a moment she had to push away, confident Walter would have remained like this forever. “It’s good to see my Cargo Officer is still on duty.”
“Molly, thesse animalss are putting everything in the wrong placsse.” He swept his hands around the scene and seemed absolutely anguished at the ruining of his organizational system.
She squeezed his shoulder firmly, as a good Captain might a real crew member, and said with seriousness, “We’ll have plenty of time to fix it when we get out of here, okay?”
Walter sniffed and nodded. Molly watched Cole rush over to offer some advice and realized she could be useful here as well. “Get back to work, Officer.”
Walter grinned. If he knew how to salute properly, she felt certain he would have done it right then. He spun back into the cargo bay, shouting orders to Glemots several times his size.
It was going to be a long night, Molly realized.
21
Molly stood in the cockpit doorway and watched as one of the smallest Leefs installed the last panel. The first rays of morning sunlight sliced through the tall trees and sparkled against the carboglass. All night she’d been mesmerized by the way the Glemots worked individually and in groups, and she finally had a chance to see what their prehensile claws could do, twisting into various shapes for driving screws or shaping metal. They were not above digging into Parsona’s well-stocked tool chests, but rarely needed to.
The Glemot took a step back from his work and indicator lights lit up the dash. Molly threw her arms around the pup and squeezed him. She leaned over the dash and pulled up the nav computer and the SADAR—it felt like a miracle had been performed. She turned and looked up at this young member of the Leef tribe; he beamed with pride. Molly smiled back, but the closer they got to leaving, and the more she’d worked with these people, the worse she felt about betraying them. She patted him on the shoulder and hurried out to find Cole.
In the cargo bay, Walter was conducting an orchestra of organizational activity. Most of the repair crew had already departed to join the warriors, leaving just the children to help clean up. Walter had pulled them off those duties and was using them to sort and arrange Parsona’s gear. Most were smaller than Edison, but this still meant a crowded cargo bay and a lot of noisy stomping. Molly weaved through the activity, shaking her head.
Outside, Cole was conferring with the few remaining adults. Molly walked up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “We have basic systems running right now,” she told him. “The ship is going through its diagnostics and I’m cycling the hyperdrive.”
Cole nodded, thanked the Glemots, and pulled Molly back toward the ship. “Our timetable still looks pretty good, but we need to think about getting out of here soon. These guys are very anxious to use the device,” he stressed the word and Molly heard both meanings, “and the ship’s systems are not going to be happy if they get caught in the blast.”
“How much time do you think we have?” Molly sorely missed the steady days on Earth where donning a watch made some sort of sense. Here, on various star systems and in the void of space, when you can circle a planet in a few minutes, you were left just counting arbitrary ticks between two events.
“Probably not even an hour. I say we do a basic flight-check and see if the thrusters fire up. Worst-case, we fly to another clearing halfway around this green rock and do more repairs there.”
“Sounds great to me.” Molly nodded to the Glemots and walked back up the cargo ramp. Walter stood just inside the bay, ordering the placement of more gear. “I’m gonna need you to get your crew out of here, buddy. We’re taking off as soon as the engines are warm.”
“Yess, Captain!”
“And Walter? Make sure we don’t have any stowaways. Check every compartment big enough for a toddler.”
“Yess, Captain!”
He hurried off and Molly smiled as Cole strode in to join her. It was good to have the group together again. Strange how they’d already created such a bond that a day apart felt like a week. Molly turned to close the cargo ramp and paused at the sight beyond. If all went well, it would be the last time she ever set foot on this planet. She pulled in a deep breath of the fresh air—rich with oxygen—and held it in. She admired the way the sunlight filtered through layers of leaves, turning the very air green. The grass that wasn’t trampled from the night’s work popped with leaping and flying things. Massive trees stood erect all around the ship like duty-bound sentinels.
It felt wrong to flee this place, to want to leave it. Molly hoped beyond all hope that they’d have a chance to return. She longed for an opportunity to see this place cloaked in peace, rather than war. She sighed and keyed the cargo hatch, watching the cold steel rise up and choke away the view. As beautiful as Glemot was, Molly was happy to be back in her temporary home of metal and electricity.
She made her way to the cockpit and settled into the captain’s chair, her flightsuit itchy and uncomfortable after getting used to the soft robe. She pulled up the chase camera to make sure no Glemots were near the rear of the ship. Every device she touched clicked right into operation, filling her with wonder. The Glemots had done an incredible job putting everything back together; the thrusters fired without a hitch. If anything, they sounded healthier than before. They whined up to their working speeds without the accustomed stutter around 1,500 RPMs. Strong and vibrant sounds hummed up from the back of Parsona.
“Better than new is right,” she muttered.
As tired as she was from being up all night, Molly forced herself to do an engine room check before they pulled away. As she crossed the cargo bay, she saw a few Glemots through the portholes lingering by the edge of the forest, as if to watch their handiwork take flight. Molly gave the engine room a visual inspection and opened the door to the lazarette. The thrusters purred with precision, the fluid and temperature gauges reading normal.
She headed back to the cockpit, pausing to ensure Walter was buckled in tight. The boy seemed immensely appreciative of her attention.
“Looks good back there,” she told Cole as she settled into her seat.
He nodded, checking the angle of the thrusters to make sure they were ready for lift and gave her a gloved thumbs up. Molly pointed to her sling. “You have the honors,” she reminded him.
“Oh—of course,” he stammered.
Molly watched him grip the flight controls with his left hand and felt a mixture of nervousness and humor. “You wanna switch seats with me?” she asked.
He gave her a hurt look. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while...and this baby was a bucket of bolts, literally, like a day ago.”
Molly raised her eyebrows.
“Okay, I’m nervous,” Cole admitted. “Does that make you happy?”
Molly laughed. “Hell no, man, it just makes me nervous, too.” As much as her broken arm annoyed her, watching hours and hours of simulator banter play back in reverse nearly made it all worthwhile. She settled back in her seat while Cole gripped the throttle.
“Liftoff,” he whispered, giving the ship thrust.
Unsteadily at first, then balancing with the increase in height and speed, the GN-290 Starship Parsona suspended itself in the heavens once more. Walter whooped from the cargo bay. Molly checked the chase camera and watched the trees recede into forest and then into a carpet of green. After a series of wild escapes, such a banal exit seemed foreign and strange to her. She braced for the ship to be taken over, wondering how long it would be before the EMP cleared the ground of electronics. They’d be out of the atmosphere before long, but she knew from experience that the range of those bunkers extended out to the largest moon.
Every second that nothing bad happened got them closer to the Orbital Station. Molly felt as if their luck was finally changing for the better.
The thing hiding in Parsona’s escape pod #2 would have agreed with her completely.
22
Mekhar huddled with a few other Leefs in the small clearing, disbelieving his good fortune. Many years of precise calculations led up to this moment. That he had been picked with the flip of a stick symbolized much: The Great Ambush embodied Glemot planning, yet it would be topped off with a flourish of randomization.
He could see the fear and envy in the eyes of his tribemates. Their fur shivered anxiously, along with his own. One of his paws rested on the impressive device in the center of the group. He glanced expectantly from it to his great leader, waiting for the signal.
The sounds of heavy marching filtered through the trees, likely from the Campton forward guard. The legions of great Campton warriors would follow, armed with their sharpened sticks and more sinister devices. Mekhar thought of the battles he’d been lucky to survive. He looked down at his scars, like white worms trampling his fur, and recalled how badly things had gone in the past.
This time, though, things would be different.
He leaned forward to shield the shiny device with his wide back. One glint through the woods would give them away. He glanced up at the great leader, but the old Glemot still looked to the sky, waiting on just the right moment. Mekhar could now make out the footsteps of individual Camptons and grew nervous. They could have sprung this trap from anywhere. Why here? he wondered.
The ground vibrated as the main column of Camptons drew near. Mekhar imagined it was the old planet shivering in anticipation. He took it as a mystical sign to begin his assignment, but fought the urge. The great leader would tell him when. His paw moved closer to the first of two buttons.
At first, the roar of thrusters burning in the atmosphere sounded like another column of warriors. When the marching stopped, however, the sound of last night’s hard work became clear. With a great roar, the machine he’d helped reconstruct lifted into space. Mekhar wished he could see the look on those Campton faces as they realized they’d become mere variables in a Leef calculation. He rested his finger on the first red button; the great leader turned to him and held a paw up. Mekhar felt the first chill of hesitation as the enormity of this moment vibrated through him. He met the gaze of this great Leef, who had chosen to live as a Campton, and tried to borrow some of his strength.
The paw closed, leaving a single digit out. Mekhar looked down at his own hand. The claw on his first finger twitched; he forced it into a dull shape. The button went down with a loud click and the device whined up like a turbine, humming with great power. Mekhar thought about what this mechanism was alleged to do and had a moment of doubt. Deep inside, down where calculation gave way to intuition, something told him that the device would not go off as planned. Surely this moment was too big for the likes of him. He looked up, certain he should voice his concerns, when a second digit flicked out of his leader’s paw.
All eyes were on him, and he hesitated. His first bout of weakness had come at the worst time. He scanned the faces around him and felt their surety, found power in their conviction. He moved his finger to the second button and closed his eyes, summoning the courage to do something great. Something terrible.
He pressed down. The button clicked, but no ear would ever hear it. Rushing ahead of that sound was a wave of heat and light, consuming all.
The Camptons, retreating back to their camp in worry, confused by the sight of Parsona rising, never saw it coming.
••••
A dozen alarm lights went from green to red, bypassing amber entirely. Molly’s first thought was another hijack. She turned to Cole, who seemed to understand that pounding the dash was not going to fix this. Then she noticed one of the blips was a munitions warning. There was nothing out the windshield ahead of them.
The chase cam, still selected on the vid screen, held the answer.
“Cole. Oh my gods!” She pointed at the screen. Cole tore himself away from the confusing indicators and leaned over to look.
“What in the galaxy—?”
A bloom of white expanding out from the forest. A circle of smoke ringed a cap of puffy cotton pushing its way up into the cloudless atmosphere. It grew and grew to an incredible size. Part of Molly’s brain knew what she was seeing, but it was unable to communicate with the rest of her.
“That’s not an EMP,” Cole said.
Molly could sense her chest sinking in. It felt hollow. Her vision swam and she reached for her wrist with her left hand, trying to cover and protect the broken parts of herself.