Hugh Howey: Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

“Sssure you do. But who are you?”

“Can you adjust the squelch?” the voice asked. “I’m getting quite a hiss from the cockpit mic.”

Walter leaned across the controls between the two seats, his face just a foot from the radio. “That’ss jussst how I sspeak,” he said, showering the dash with saliva.

“Oh, my apologies. Listen, I’m seeing a hyperdrive signature ahead of us—I mean ahead of you—that I don’t like. I need you to run some tests for—”

“Who are you?” Walter interrupted. He shooed the Wadi from Molly’s seat and plopped down in the captain’s chair.

“I’m, uh… a friend of Mollie’s. I—well, I was supposed to meet you guys here, but the door’s stuck. The cargo ramp. Can you check it for me?”

“Are you outside?” Walter spun in his chair and peeked through the porthole. The planet was darker than space, but a pale glow could be seen directly ahead of the ship.

“I was. I’m radioing from my ship. Can you check the door for me? I think something’s wrong with it.”

“Ssure,” he said, working his way out of the seat.

“Just see if it’ll open, but don’t go outside. Oh, and I might need you to check something on SADAR when you get back. I’ll tell you what buttons to press, and you can follow along.”

“I’m not sstupid ,” Walter said, stomping out of the room.

This was so annoying. He hardly ever got time to himself on the ship, time to sniff around.

He walked past his crew area, and the sight of all the empty chairs washed away his frustrations. He could feel himself brighten. Literally—the sheen of his metallic skin taking a more silvery hue.

Then again , he thought, our crew has gone from five to two in less than a week .

He felt pretty proud of himself for that.

He strolled over to the ramp controls and lifted the glass. Tapped the buttons.

Nothing.

He hissed in frustration, his skin resuming its prior, duller sheen.

Molly dripped with sweat, despite the cold. Byrne’s question about her source of information hung in the air, his hands positioned to deliver more pain. She couldn’t tell him about Parsona—so she fought to think of any other connection—anything he’d mentioned on Dakura. The fingers started to press in, and Molly remembered something. His reaction to hearing about her godfather.

“Lucin,” she gasped, then sucked in a lungful of air before it could be forced out of her with the attack.

But the attack didn’t come. The fingers rested on the spots, little divots of torture burned into her body’s long-term memory.

“I thought so,” Byrne said, his hand not moving. “What else did he tell you?”

About Parsona , she thought. But protecting her was the only reason she’d lied in the first place. “He told me about my mom. About Dakura. The mission my parents were on.”

“Which was?”

Molly took a deep breath. Even talking was exhausting. “Are you testing me? Or interrogating me?”

Mr. Byrne laughed at this, and his hand came away. He grabbed Molly by her armpits and carried her closer to the light, plopping her down in front of some odd contraption.

“Both,” he told her. “Do you know what I’m doing here?”

Molly shook her head “I don’t even know what you are,” she lied.

“Think of me as a scout,” he said. “Behind me is an army of trillions. And I’m going to open a door and let them in.” He turned to the side and waved at the silhouette of a device Molly found… familiar. It was a large cross of steel with wires leading to all four points. She traced the cables down to the ground, through the ruins, and off to the shadow of a ship outside the village square. She could see now that it wasn’t a Firehawk.

She looked back to the contraption. “What is that?” she asked.

But she already knew. She’d built one just a month ago, on Palan. She’d used it to rescue Cole from that hellish prison.

“You know, don’t you?” Byrne leaned in and studied her face. “Your mother knew more than she let on. Did she teach you how to use this?” The hand came to her thigh again. Without even looking, he seemed able to attach his fingers to just the right spot.

Molly shook her head. The bony digits pressed in, making the world flash around her and go silent. She moved her lips to say, “It was an accident,” but couldn’t even hear herself.

The fingers came away, the pain diminishing to a dull, lingering ache.

“What was an accident?”

She tried to force a long breath among the short and rapid ones.

“I built one,” she whimpered. “On accident. To rescue a friend, I built one of those.” She nodded her head toward the metal cross.

Byrne leaned in close. His eyes were wild, his face twitching with small muscles that bulged in odd places.“What did it do?” he asked. “Where did you build it?”

“I teleported some rock, moved a cell wall, to free a friend—”

“Bah! Then you didn’t build what—”

“—on Palan,” she finished.

Byrne reacted as if shocked by a bolt of electricity. Both hands, with uncommon speed and precision, flew to Molly’s armpits. Fingers found nerves there between her ribs and under her shoulders. He didn’t yet start squeezing, but Molly could tell this would be a level of agony beyond what had already transpired. Anticipatory pain tingled along tendons as if they knew what was coming; her shoulders crept up in fear.

“Where on Palan?” he spat.

“In the canyons.” Molly forced out the answer as quickly as she could. She tensed her legs, stretching her spine, trying to levitate away from his grasp.

“Liar,” he said. His fingers applied a little pressure. Molly felt dizzy, could smell something like ozone, could taste the pain. It was a new experience, and it hadn’t really started. Her throat constricted, her eyes watering.

What is he looking for? she wondered in her haze. She would give it to him, whatever it was, she’d hand him everything for a quick death, that’s how bad it felt.

“It was in space, wasn’t it?” he yelled. “You did something in Palan’s orbit. You opened a door!”

He no longer looked calm and in control. He looked desperate . In Molly’s state, his thin face, spitting with rage, looked like the specter of death, come to take her away.

“I know it was in space,” Byrne shouted, “because I came through it with Parsona . Tell me how you made it.”

With Parsona? A door? From where?

“I’ll help you,” Molly hissed. “Just. Stop. Hurting. Me.” She had to force each quiet word around a separate pant for air.

The hands relaxed. Byrne surveyed her face.

“There are two doors in this old house,” he said. “Invisible doors. Both were opened by friends of your parents many years ago and then resealed. It was a daring, foolish invasion, and now we get to return the favor.”

Byrne turned and nodded at the metal cross. “I can open old doors,” he said, “but I can’t create new ones. I’m thinking you can. You just don’t know how you did it, do you?”

“And that’s what you went to my mom, the one on Dakura, to find out about? How to make them?” Molly cherished the conversation, hoping it would continue. Her body tingled with the absence of pain.

“No. I went to her to determine which door to reopen.”

The game show. Her mother’s words came back to her, the innocuous analogy made deadly.

“One of these doors will open and end your galaxy, along with the threat it poses. My people will move in and systematically destroy this… mutation. ” Byrne looked over Molly’s head. “The other door would have led you to your damned father…” He peered down at her, his eyes narrowing as Molly felt her own widen. “But don’t waste your time hoping, I’ve already sealed that one forever. And soon, the other door will open…”