Hugh Howey - Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

She looked up once more as the other figure came forward another few steps, his hands still wide apart. She squinted into the simulated nighttime of the StarCarrier’s hallway, his face coming forward into the pale light.

The first thing she recognized was the flash of his wary smile.

“Cole?”

He offered her a hand while pressing a finger to his lips. Molly reached out and grabbed his arm, squeezing it and fighting the urge to pull herself into him.

She looked back at Riggs, and at her empty cell. Somehow they’d gone from prisoners to captors. Her brain reeled as she attempted to rearrange her tactics.

“What’s going on?” she asked him, halfway heeding his gesture of silence by keeping her voice at a whisper.

Cole knelt beside her and glanced at Riggs, making sure he was okay. “We’re getting out of here. Let’s lift him up.”

They each grabbed one arm and hauled Riggs to his feet. As Riggs pulled his legs underneath him, Molly noticed the laces of his black Navy boots had been tied together. He could walk, but running would be hazardous.

“Is he helping us?” Molly asked. The disgusted and angry look on Riggs’s face hadn’t wavered from his visit the day before.

“Yeah,” Cole whispered, “but not because he wants to. We need to get off this hall, and then we can talk about it.”

Molly looked over her shoulder, back toward the guard station beyond a distant partition. Black security camera warts lined the ceiling, but Cole didn’t seem concerned about them. After they passed through a series of open gates, Cole reached back into a pocket and withdrew a small shiny device. It looked like a Navy-issue communicator.

“Seal the hall,” he said, and the gates behind them slid shut. Cole straightened as they did so and several lines of worry disappeared from his forehead. Molly watched this with interest, frowning at the creases that remained.

“Can we talk now?” she whispered.

“Yeah, but we need to keep walking.” He indicated a direction through the wide engineering space. “This way.”

Molly helped pull Riggs along, glancing over her shoulder to assure herself that they weren’t being pursued. “How’d you get out?”

“Walter.”

“What? That little bastard—”

“Forget it. I thought the same thing when they questioned me and I heard what he was doing. I should’ve known when they said he needed to spill his guts on a computer. The sneaky little—”

“Oh, gods,” Molly groaned. “They let him on a computer . I’m so stupid. I was ready to kill him—I felt like a fool for trusting him again.”

Cole laughed at this. “We probably are fools for trusting him.”

“How’d he do it?” Molly knew it wasn’t important; they could go over the story later, but her curiosity gnawed at her.

“He’s got access to almost everything. My old buddy Riggs here came by my cell to gloat earlier this evening. He was jawing at me through the bars when they receded into the floor. I had no idea it was coming, I just wrestled him down and tied him up with his own laces. Meanwhile, Walter started hissing at me through his radio, giving me instructions and guiding me with the cameras.” Cole looked up at one of the warts for emphasis.

“He opened a supply closet for me, got me these duds, guided me to you.” Cole pointed to an open lift, and they led Riggs inside. The light shone brighter in the small space; Molly could see Riggs’s nostrils flaring as he fought to breathe through his nose.

“How does Walter plan on getting us out of here?”

Cole laughed and shook his head. “He doesn’t. He got me out, and I’ve been planning the rest. Hell, I’m not sure he woulda busted me out had he known how good a wrestler you are.”

Cole flipped open the communicator again. “Down, please.” The doors closed, and the lift vibrated into motion. He let Riggs lean against the far wall and turned to Molly. “Every guard between us and the cargo bay has been routed off-duty. Walter scheduled Riggs’s Firehawk for a fleet patrol. He and I are gonna tow you and Parsona out of the hangar bay.”

“Just like that?”

Cole smiled. “Just like that. You know, they pulled me off pilot training and taught me comms and navigation. It was supposed to be a demotion. You wanna know the truth?”

The elevator beeped its arrival and the doors hissed open, allowing the rhetorical question to float out into the vast hangar bay. Cole pushed Riggs ahead of them and winked at Molly.

“The person scheduling the guards is the one with real power.”

Molly could see Parsona’s profile standing above the sleeker Firehawks. She, Cole, and Riggs angled in the ship’s direction, walking down the wide landing strip at the center of the hangar. The vast cavern bulged with metal shapes, but no crewmen. It appeared they’d be strolling out of here as casually as they liked.

Something about that filled Molly with unease. She had grown accustomed to nothing coming easily or without great cost. This felt like one of those gifts she’d pay dearly for later.

Riggs tried to make things interesting once by pulling away from Cole and stumbling for a few steps. His laces, however, made large strides impossible, and Cole caught up to him quickly, preventing Riggs from hurting himself in a fall to the metal decking.

“Stop that!” he told Riggs in a tone that suggested several earlier attempts.

Molly hurried to resume her spot by one of his arms. A dozen steps further, Cole led them close to a Firehawk. Molly looked up and saw Riggs’s name stenciled below the cockpit as the captain of the ship. “Marcelli” was listed as the navigator.

Walter sat on the decking by the Firehawk—leaning over a portable computer. Wires trailed from his screen up to an access hatch on the side of the ship. He beamed when he saw her.

“Molly!” He stood and ran over, throwing his small arms around her waist. She patted his back and thanked him—quite a departure from what she’d previously been planning if she ever saw him again.

He smiled up at her. “Almosst ready,” he hissed.

“Did you disable the Firehawk’s weapons systems?” Cole asked, indicating the wires tethering his computer to the craft.

Walter sneered. “Among other thingss,” the boy said cryptically.

Cole shrugged. “Great. How long before we can go?”

“Almosst ready,” he repeated.

“I’m gonna need help getting Riggs in the cockpit,” Cole told Molly. Riggs shook his head at this and tried yelling inside of his own mouth, his cheeks puffing out.

“What’re we gonna do with him? Why not leave him here?”

“Two reasons: I really don’t wanna add Firehawk theft to my rapidly expanding criminal resume, so he’ll be needed to fly the thing back. And, unless you want to locate his auth chip and cut it out of him, we’re gonna need his full presence in the Firehawk to tow Parsona out. Hold him for a sec.”

Molly held Riggs’s arm. Her old friend’s eyes locked onto hers and flashed with raw malice. Cole grabbed a nearby boarding platform and rolled the steps over to line up with the cockpit.

“You don’t think Walter could bypass the auth code?” Molly asked.

“I didn’t ask. Okay, here’s the plan: once we get clear of the fleet, you’ll power up Parsona . By the time she shows up on the Navy’s SADAR, it’ll be too late. We’ll jump both ships to a rendezvous point where I’ll shut the Firehawk down, pop the cockpit, and push off to you. You pick me up, and we’ll jump out of there long before Riggs can reboot the ship or the Navy can trace the exit point of our jump signature. Easy as pie.”