Hugh Howey - Molly Fyde and the Fight for Peace

Just as they had expected, the cemetery had been a perfect place for them to arrive. It was the nearest known coordinates to the GU’s capital where taboo could be relied upon to keep the air obstruction-free. Of course, Saunders was expecting plenty of other sorts of obstructions as their mission advanced. He and his two commanding officers might’ve been too old and unfit for the sort of combat the others would see, but they were well familiar with the bureaucratic dogfighting ahead of them.

As the trio stomped up the windy path, they headed for the kind of fight with which they were more familiar. Fights where desktops were their battlefields, words their weapons, intrigue and deception their tactics, and lives were lost by the billions , rather than the thousands.

Molly watched the final group step into the rift and fade into nothingness. The ensuing silence, the heavy emptiness pressing down on the wooded clearing, nearly smothered her. The past day had been a whirlwind of anxious thoughts, of competing chatter, of stomping boots and gun chambers clacking back and forth. There had been a constant chorus of Velcro being adjusted and readjusted… and now all that remained was a comparative silence, making the residual buzzing in her head all the louder. The severity of what their small group had begun, the mission on which she had just launched so many brave souls…

Molly shuddered and looked up through the canopy at the lights twinkling overhead. To try and crush that fleet with a group camped out in the woods seemed as likely as destroying a constellation of stars. The humming in her head continued. In the silence of the vast woods, she could begin to hear her doubts.

“I reckon that went well,” Ryke said. He flicked a series of switches on the console, and its displays faded to black.

“What’s the damage?” Molly asked, referring to their fuel supply.

“Only used up twenty percent of the tank. More than my calculations, but not by much. Each squad took more heavy gear than I would’ve liked.”

Cat came up to help lug the large control console back into Parsona . They only had a few hours to put everything away before flying to the StarCarrier and doing it all over again with the missiles.

“But we still have plenty of fuel for the fireworks?”

“You bet.”

Molly nodded and moved to collect the jump platform from between the trees, but Walter grabbed her arm before she could get there. She turned and saw his reflective skin glowing in the light of his portable computer. He looked up from its screen to face her.

“What is it?” Molly asked. Her Wadi flicked its tongue out at him, then scampered down her back and into one of the cargo pockets on her hip.

“The person in the computer needs you.” He pointed to his handheld device. Molly reached for it, but he pulled it away.

“Inside,” he said.

Shrugging, Molly went to collect the wires so she could spool them up on her way to the cargo bay.

“I’ll get that,” Walter said. “Ssee what your friend wantss.”

“Thanks,” Molly said. She rubbed Walter’s head with one hand, his newly-buzzed stubble scratching her palm. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but he had become incredibly helpful of late.

Molly hurried toward the ship, past Ryke and Cat. She kept one hand on the Wadi’s pocket to minimize its jouncing. When she got to the cargo ramp, she saw Scottie and Ryn arranging the climbing gear across the deck in preparation of their descent through the Carrier.

“You guys about ready?” Molly asked on her way to the cockpit.

“Getting there,” Ryn said.

Molly gave them a thumbs-up over her shoulder. Entering the cockpit, she made sure the speakers and mic were both switched on.

“Everything went well?” Parsona asked.

“From what we can tell, yeah. What’d you wanna see me about?”

“About?”

“You said you needed to speak to me.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, Walter said you wanted me in here.”

“That’s odd. I’m looking at my recollections right now, and I don’t see that exchange anywhere.”

“That is odd,” Molly said. She glanced over her shoulder as Cat and Ryke brought the control console inside.

“Maybe he’s just playing games with you,” Parsona said. “I saw him fooling around with those gruesome arms earlier. I really wish you’d get rid of—”

Molly missed the rest. She stomped through the cargo bay, her skin electric with the paranoia that Walter was up to no good. She swore, if he let her down one more time, she wouldn’t care how many jams he squeezed them out of—she would kill him with her bare hands.

Stepping into the night air, she tried to calm herself by taking a deep breath. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions. She felt the Wadi twirl in her pocket, trying to get comfortable, or maybe tumbling after its tail.

“Hey, Molly,” Walter yelled, calling her from the other side of the ship.

She ducked under the starboard wing and followed the black wires as they rounded the thrusters and headed off toward the imaginary rift. One of the worklights was still on; she could see Walter standing in its pool of photons, his skin reflecting much of it back her way. He stood there, as still as he could be, holding a bundle against his chest.

It looked like a lumpy towel. Some leaves and small twigs stuck to it as if it had been dropped. Molly stormed his direction, preparing to grill him for answers, when he spoke out, hissing:

“I wanna sshow you ssomething.”

Two more long strides, then Molly saw it: The way the leaves were piled up ahead of her—one corner of the jump platform sticking out—the wires doubling back along the ground.

She saw it, but it was too late. Her feet hit the platform, and Walter’s face flashed as he pressed something.

His computer screen winked to life.

And then Molly winked out of the woods.

The sensation of complete displacement rocked Anlyn’s senses.

Jumping through hyperspace in a ship was nothing. The cockpit remained the same, even the view from the canopy was normally no more than a jiggling of lights as stars jolted like startled insects. Earlier that day, she had jumped from one cargo bay to another, but even that couldn’t compare—the environs of one locale and the next were too similar.

With the jump to Darrin, however, her senses were totally rocked. The dark, cool forest exploded into light and heat. A fully-lit hangar popped into being around her. Air kept warm against the vacuum of space could be felt through her flightsuit. It was like waking too fast from a deep dream. Anlyn’s eyes struggled to adjust.

Crouched down in front of her, she saw a blurry Edison. His visor was up, his eyes blinking rapidly. She nodded to let him know she was okay.

Edison moved to the side, and Anlyn saw a looming wall of thruster cones beyond him. It was Albert’s new ship, a replacement for the one she’d stolen what seemed like forever ago. It had five thrusters, which she immediately pegged as one of the Darrin II designs. Not quite Lady Liberty , but then business probably wasn’t going so well since Anlyn’s emancipation.

She sized the ship up as she and Edison stole around it and toward the entrance to Albert’s shop. They moved quietly and swiftly, or as much of the former as Edison could muster while Anlyn pushed her limits on the latter.

The door to the shop was unlocked, which meant Edison didn’t need to use his sword to cut their way inside. The door slid back noiselessly and Edison took the lead. And not just because of his bulk and the power of the strange weapon he carried, but because he had actually spent more time freely exploring the asteroid’s corridors than Anlyn ever had. In a few days of being Albert’s guest, he had been given access to the arms dealer’s house in a manner never extended to his slave of so many years.