Hugh Howey - Molly Fyde and the Parsona Rescue

A chill spread through her limbs, her palms moistened and began to cool. What in the galaxy did he mean by that? Did he know who they were? Was there a bounty out on the ship? She shot Cole a glance. His arms were folded across his wide chest, his face frozen in a glower.

“It was a few design flaws that did this model in,” he said. “Putting the cargo bay on the starboard side with the airlock, for instance. Horrible idea. Can’t open both at once. We’ll leave the ships docked so you don’t have to land her, but that means you’ll have to pass through my baby to enter the shop. Do me a favor? Don’t touch anything as you go through. And do not feed the Drenard.” He laughed out loud.

Molly tried to soothe the tension out of her body, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his briefcase. It felt as though a chunk of her soul rattled around within.

As they entered his hangar bay, a soft light filtered through Parsona’s portholes and moved from front to back, popping through each window in turn. Every head swayed in unison as the landing gear scraped on metal decking, signaled their arrival. Molly was furious at the gear for lowering at another’s behest. For the second time, someone else had assumed command of her ship, and she hated it as much as people controlling her.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Albert began with a flourish, “welcome to Albert’s Arms. Please follow me for a quick tour. Again, mind the mess as we pass through Lady Liberty , I was not expecting company today.” He winked at Molly as if this were a private joke between the two of them and strolled back into the airlock as calmly as he had exited it. Molly felt another stab of betrayal when she heard her outer airlock door slide open for Albert. Walter rushed after him like a puppy while Cole gave her a vicious look. Edison was still absently rubbing his injured paw.

“I don’t like this any more than you guys do,” she said.

“We aren’t the ones that signed those contracts, though, are we?” Cole replied.

“Flank you, Cole.” Molly shot out of the crew seat and stormed across the cargo bay. “As soon as we arm my ship so you feel less ‘naked,’ we’re out of here. And straight to the Navy this time. I’m sick and tired of doing whatever other people want.” She trailed the rant behind her and spun into the airlock, slapping the doorjamb with her palm as she ducked through.

Yeah, it was a design flaw , she thought. She squeezed through the outer door and marched across the mating tube to Lady Liberty . She had pointed out the airlock problem to Cole while they were on Glemot, but hearing it from someone else made her angry. Or maybe her disgust with having signed those contracts had her lashing out.

She stepped through the coupling into Albert’s airlock and nearly choked on the smell. Something sticky and formerly edible mixed with the odor of plastic upholstery; the combination assaulted her olfactory senses. She could hear Walter and Albert in an animated discussion beyond and hoped the boy’s bartering skills were being put to good use. She also hoped Albert’s shop didn’t smell anything like his airlock. She stepped through the inner hatch and joined them in a room lined with spacesuits and padlocked storage compartments. It looked like a Navy MP locker room. She could only imagine what an arms dealer would keep in those bins.

Albert smiled at her. “Right this way,” he said jovially, stepping into Lady Liberty’s cargo bay. Walter followed and Molly hurried after them before Cole and Edison could catch up. She already regretted lashing out at them, but fought the urge to be contrite.

The cargo bay was a wreck, but at least the open ramp allowed fresh air in from beyond. Albert and Walter clanged down and out to the hangar. Molly took two steps and glanced to one side, down the hallway of Albert’s ship. She felt the urge to snoop, looked the other way, saw something move in her peripheral.

She froze.

The shape. The color. Years of training triggered synapses wired for fear. Molly reached for a stunner that wasn’t there. She pawed behind her for Cole. She looked for a stick or a weapon of some sort.

Albert was not joking about having a Drenard onboard.

The Drenard’s presence triggered a primal kill response in Molly. Her nerves, already frayed, sent jittery commands to adrenaline-soaked muscles. Her knees went numb and she would’ve collapsed, but Cole arrived in time to steady her.

She looked back to mumble her thanks and saw the mask of pure terror on his face as well. She spun back around, expecting to be attacked at any moment, but the creature hadn’t moved. Huddled on the floor, not five meters from her, was a living Drenard. The race they and the rest of the GU had been at war with for longer than she’d been alive. This was what they were programmed for at the Academy: hunt down and kill Drenards. Pictures of them graced their gun-range targets, their punching bags, the Navy’s recruitment posters. Training holos incorporated front-line video from soldiers lucky enough to encounter and mow them down. A generic-looking representation of a Drenard popped up on the scoreboard after simulated battles to tally victorious kills.

This creature looked similar enough to startle her, but as most of her fear and rage drained away, she saw that it wasn’t exactly like the aliens from the videos and posters. The biggest difference was how small and emaciated it looked. The hairless body was a lighter shade of blue, almost translucent. And instead of wearing the white flight suits and combat armor of the Drenard Navy, this one had on nothing but dirty, tattered rags. Shackles on both of its slim ankles completed the pathetic getup; a chain snaked from them around the corner and into the cockpit. The miserable thing had its knees bent up to its chin—long, thin arms wrapped around its narrow shins. With large, wet eyes it peered directly at Molly and the last of her fear and anger fell uselessly to the metal decking. Pity and shame started to rise up in their place.

“A real beaut, eh?” Albert called up from the cargo ramp, his voice full of pride. “One hundred percent real Drenard. Not another like her this side of the Milky Way. Priceless, as you can imagine, but I’d never sell her. No sir-ree.” He marched back into the ship, smiling at Molly and Cole as if their reaction pleased him. He crossed to the poor creature and patted its head.

Molly watched the captive flinch slightly, the chain rattling like a spooked snake. But the Drenard’s eyes never left her own.

“Anlyn here sure brings in the customers, let me tell ya. Just a gem. And it’s true, you know. They can go forever without food. All you have to do is water them. Damnedest thing. She’s learning English too. Pretty good at it, but she doesn’t choose to say much. Still a little frightened, but coming around. Come this way and I’ll give you a full tour of the shop and introduce you to my family.” He went back to the ramp and waved them along. “I’ll give you a sense of what I have in stock and you can show me what sort of price range you’re looking at. Then I’ll let you get some rest and talk over your needs with your weapon’s officer. I’m assuming that was the clever fellow who tested my private shields?” He whirled on Molly and held his hand to one side of his mouth, but said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Doesn’t say much does he?”

Molly didn’t respond, and it didn’t feel as if Albert expected her to. He strolled out into the open hangar, a constant flow of jabber following him. The habit reminded Molly of his contracts: a heap of words designed to hinder communication rather than facilitate it. She cast one last look at the Drenard and followed him out into the cavernous hangar.