Hugh Howey - Molly Fyde and the Fight for Peace

Parsona touched down into her well-worn depressions in the wooded clearing, one strut squeaking a little. Her cargo door opened to let in the night sounds of forest whispers and chirping insects. Molly followed Cat into the cargo bay where another round of supplies had been arranged. As soon as the hatch met the crackling leaves of the clearing, Callites and Humans stomped up together to help unload. Molly left the physical labor to her friends. She squeezed past Ryke, who Cat was introducing to several Callites, and set off in search of Saunders.

She didn’t have to go far, as the portly Admiral was already stomping up the loading ramp to find her .

“Everything go okay?” he asked. Molly watched him search her for signs of trauma, yesterday’s adventures in Bekkie still seemingly fresh on his mind.

“It went fine. We got enough food and water to last the Darrin squads both ways, and I was able to buy extra flight gear off a few other ships for next to nothing. It appears that cash is king right now.”

Saunders looked over the bundles of packaged food and the crates of fluid packets with a frown. “Are you sure this will be enough?”

Molly pulled him out of the way of the supply chains and back toward the crew quarters.

“More than enough, actually. I picked up some friends in town, and one of them, a Doctor Ryke who grew up near my home village, knows a way to shorten the trip back from Darrin.”

“Even more than the route you picked out? I thought you had it down to four jumps or something like that.”

“Drastically shorter,” Molly said. “And it’ll be even safer, trust me.” She led him down the hallway and stopped just outside of Edison’s room. She slapped the door twice as the insanity of what she was about to do fully set in. The daunting task wrapped itself around her chest and made it difficult to breathe. She turned to Saunders.

“Molly, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, I—I just need you to stay quiet and calm, okay? Some of the friends I picked up in town… they might not be what you’re expecting.”

A hurt look spread across Saunders’s face. “I’m fine with the locals,” he said. “Just so you know, I was a Naval Ambassador before taking the job at the—”

He stopped. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning Molly’s face. Whatever he saw there had given him pause.

“What could you possibly show me—?”

There was a knock on the other side of the door.

“Just be calm,” Molly said, trying her damnedest to follow her own advice. She keyed the door open, and it slid back. The lights inside were off, the portholes shuttered. Molly ushered Saunders inside and closed the door. They had worried over whether or not he’d even enter the room if he saw what awaited him.

When the lights flicked on, Molly noted her worries had been justified. Saunders flinched back, reaching for Molly or possibly the door behind her. Molly steadied him; she felt his frozen muscles tremble beneath his copious bulk. She watched as the ruddy color of his neck drained white, and worried he might pass out again, just as he had when he’d found out about the Bern threat.

As Molly watched his reaction, hoping he’d be okay, she recalled the first time she had seen Anlyn. Her body had responded similarly, freezing and fumbling for Cole. She certainly knew what he was going through, and how far her own fears had come in such a short time.

“She’s a friend,” Molly told Saunders, hoping to calm him. She moved to his side and placed a hand on his back. “And this is Edison, another very good friend of mine.”

“D—Dre—”

Anlyn rose from her bed and bowed slightly. Molly was relieved to see Edison stay put, his bulk fearsome enough just hunched over on the small bunk.

“My name is Anlyn Hooo and I greet you on behalf of my empire—”

Saunders collapsed, his legs folding neatly, Indian style, as he sank to the deck. Molly steadied his shoulders to keep his head from going back against the dresser. She stepped around and knelt down in front of him, saw his eyes focusing on Anlyn, his mouth open.

“Sir? Admiral, I need you to stay with me.”

His eyes moved slowly to Molly’s.

“Are you okay?”

He shook his head, his jowls jiggling left and right. He made little circles with his chin, transforming the shake into a nod.

“Are you or aren’t you?”

“I need water,” he said, his voice thin and raspy.

“I can’t send either of them—” Molly nodded to her two friends. “Do you want me to leave you and get a glass?”

Saunders considered this. He shook his head.

Molly felt Anlyn’s hand on her shoulder; she turned to see her friend sitting down across from Saunders. After she got settled, Anlyn folded her translucent blue hands into her lap and smiled at the Admiral.

Molly moved aside and sat likewise, occupying the small plot of floor still available, each of her knees nearly touching one of theirs. Edison remained quietly seated on the bunk behind them, and the silence within the room became more palpable by the steady thump of activity in the cargo bay beyond. Together, the three crewmates rode out the old man’s shock, respecting the awkwardness they had induced.

“Admiral Saunders—” Anlyn eventually began.

“You speak English,” he said, interrupting her.

Anlyn nodded. “Molly told you why our people are at war?”

“Because of them? ” Saunders asked. He pointed up at the ceiling and presumably to the Bern fleet beyond. His eyes darted away from Anlyn and settled on Edison. “Is—Is that one of… them? ”

Molly stifled a laugh, then felt sorry for Saunders. His face was still ashen, his jaw slack with confusion. She reached out and put a hand on his knee. “Edison is a Glemot. He’s harmless,” she said, ripping the truth in half, grinding it to shards, then setting the fragments on fire. “The Bern look like us , remember?”

Saunders nodded and blinked rapidly, re-learning old news.

Anlyn held up her hands, showing her pale-blue palms. “Admiral, war has been declared on your empire by mine. There are agents in both of our camps that do not have the best interests of their own people in mind. Do you understand?”

“I do,” he replied, some of the color returning to his cheeks.

“I did everything I could to prevent these most recent hostilities, both as a member of our highest council and personally.”

“You don’t want to fight us,” Saunders said.

“That’s correct. I don’t. Many of us don’t.” Anlyn adjusted her tunics, then folded her hands into her lap. “We share a common enemy, your empire and mine. One that has been trying its mightiest to drive our people together so they can then sweep through the debris and lord over the ashes. That enemy is gathering right here above this planet. Do you understand this as well?”

“The Bern.”

“Admiral, do you understand what needs to be done? That this enemy must be stopped at all costs?”

Saunders nodded. Molly could see his throat constrict as he swallowed. She should have planned better and had some water in the room ahead of time.

“We have a plan,” Saunders said meekly. He turned to Molly. “We have a plan, right?” He seemed desperate for a confirmation of this feeble hope.

Molly patted his knee. “Admiral, we need you to do something important, okay? Anlyn has it worked out.”

“I am next in line to the throne of the Drenard Empire,” Anlyn said.

Saunders’s face remained blank, but Molly felt goosebumps ripple up her arms from hearing her friend say such an outrageous thing, even if it were true.

“I am not in a position of military power,” she went on, “and I will never rule my people, but I do have certain inherent foreign relations rights. Further, I happen to be on an ambassadorial mission sanctioned by my ruling body, entrusted with the right to establish first contact with races not previously negotiated with and enter into negotiations with any such races encountered.”