Molly Fyde and the Parsona Rescue

Cole nodded, thanked the Glemots, and pulled Molly back toward the ship. “Our timetable still looks pretty good, but we need to think about getting out of here soon. These guys are very anxious to use the device,” he stressed the word and Molly heard both meanings, “and the ship’s systems are not going to be happy if they get caught in the blast.”

“How much time do you think we have?” Molly sorely missed the steady days on Earth where donning a watch made some sort of sense. Here, on various star systems and in the void of space, when you can circle a planet in a few minutes, you were left just counting arbitrary ticks between two events.

“Probably not even an hour. I say we do a basic flight-check and see if the thrusters fire up. Worst-case, we fly to another clearing halfway around this green rock and do more repairs there.”

“Sounds great to me.” Molly nodded to the Glemots and walked back up the cargo ramp. Walter stood just inside the bay, ordering the placement of more gear. “I’m gonna need you to get your crew out of here, buddy. We’re taking off as soon as the engines are warm.”

“Yess, Captain!”

“And Walter? Make sure we don’t have any stowaways. Check every compartment big enough for a toddler.”

“Yess, Captain!”

He hurried off and Molly smiled as Cole strode in to join her. It was good to have the group together again. Strange how they’d already created such a bond that a day apart felt like a week. Molly turned to close the cargo ramp and paused at the sight beyond. If all went well, it would be the last time she ever set foot on this planet. She pulled in a deep breath of the fresh air—rich with oxygen—and held it in. She admired the way the sunlight filtered through layers of leaves, turning the very air green. The grass that wasn’t trampled from the night’s work popped with leaping and flying things. Massive trees stood erect all around the ship like duty-bound sentinels.

It felt wrong to flee this place, to want to leave it. Molly hoped beyond all hope that they’d have a chance to return. She longed for an opportunity to see this place cloaked in peace, rather than war. She sighed and keyed the cargo hatch, watching the cold steel rise up and choke away the view. As beautiful as Glemot was, Molly was happy to be back in her temporary home of metal and electricity.

She made her way to the cockpit and settled into the captain’s chair, her flightsuit itchy and uncomfortable after getting used to the soft robe. She pulled up the chase camera to make sure no Glemots were near the rear of the ship. Every device she touched clicked right into operation, filling her with wonder. The Glemots had done an incredible job putting everything back together; the thrusters fired without a hitch. If anything, they sounded healthier than before. They whined up to their working speeds without the accustomed stutter around 1,500 RPMs. Strong and vibrant sounds hummed up from the back of Parsona.

“Better than new is right,” she muttered.

As tired as she was from being up all night, Molly forced herself to do an engine room check before they pulled away. As she crossed the cargo bay, she saw a few Glemots through the portholes lingering by the edge of the forest, as if to watch their handiwork take flight. Molly gave the engine room a visual inspection and opened the door to the lazarette. The thrusters purred with precision, the fluid and temperature gauges reading normal.

She headed back to the cockpit, pausing to ensure Walter was buckled in tight. The boy seemed immensely appreciative of her attention.

“Looks good back there,” she told Cole as she settled into her seat.

He nodded, checking the angle of the thrusters to make sure they were ready for lift and gave her a gloved thumbs up. Molly pointed to her sling. “You have the honors,” she reminded him.

“Oh—of course,” he stammered.

Molly watched him grip the flight controls with his left hand and felt a mixture of nervousness and humor. “You wanna switch seats with me?” she asked.

He gave her a hurt look. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while… and this baby was a bucket of bolts, literally, like a day ago.”

Molly raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, I’m nervous,” Cole admitted. “Does that make you happy?”

Molly laughed. “Hell no, man, it just makes me nervous, too.” As much as her broken arm annoyed her, watching hours and hours of simulator banter play back in reverse nearly made it all worthwhile. She settled back in her seat while Cole gripped the throttle.

“Liftoff,” he whispered, giving the ship thrust.

Unsteadily at first, then balancing with the increase in height and speed, the GN-290 Starship Parsona suspended itself in the heavens once more. Walter whooped from the cargo bay. Molly checked the chase camera and watched the trees recede into forest and then into a carpet of green. After a series of wild escapes, such a banal exit seemed foreign and strange to her. She braced for the ship to be taken over, wondering how long it would be before the EMP cleared the ground of electronics. They’d be out of the atmosphere before long, but she knew from experience that the range of those bunkers extended out to the largest moon.

Every second that nothing bad happened got them closer to the Orbital Station. Molly felt as if their luck was finally changing for the better.

The thing hiding in Parsona’s escape pod #2 would have agreed with her completely.

22

Mekhar huddled with a few other Leefs in the small clearing, disbelieving his good fortune. Many years of precise calculations led up to this moment. That he had been picked with the flip of a stick symbolized much: The Great Ambush embodied Glemot planning, yet it would be topped off with a flourish of randomization.

He could see the fear and envy in the eyes of his tribemates. Their fur shivered anxiously, along with his own. One of his paws rested on the impressive device in the center of the group. He glanced expectantly from it to his great leader, waiting for the signal.

The sounds of heavy marching filtered through the trees, likely from the Campton forward guard. The legions of great Campton warriors would follow, armed with their sharpened sticks and more sinister devices. Mekhar thought of the battles he’d been lucky to survive. He looked down at his scars, like white worms trampling his fur, and recalled how badly things had gone in the past.

This time, though, things would be different.

He leaned forward to shield the shiny device with his wide back. One glint through the woods would give them away. He glanced up at the great leader, but the old Glemot still looked to the sky, waiting on just the right moment. Mekhar could now make out the footsteps of individual Camptons and grew nervous. They could have sprung this trap from anywhere. Why here? he wondered.

The ground vibrated as the main column of Camptons drew near. Mekhar imagined it was the old planet shivering in anticipation. He took it as a mystical sign to begin his assignment, but fought the urge. The great leader would tell him when. His paw moved closer to the first of two buttons.

At first, the roar of thrusters burning in the atmosphere sounded like another column of warriors. When the marching stopped, however, the sound of last night’s hard work became clear. With a great roar, the machine he’d helped reconstruct lifted into space. Mekhar wished he could see the look on those Campton faces as they realized they’d become mere variables in a Leef calculation. He rested his finger on the first red button; the great leader turned to him and held a paw up. Mekhar felt the first chill of hesitation as the enormity of this moment vibrated through him. He met the gaze of this great Leef, who had chosen to live as a Campton, and tried to borrow some of his strength.

The paw closed, leaving a single digit out. Mekhar looked down at his own hand. The claw on his first finger twitched; he forced it into a dull shape. The button went down with a loud click and the device whined up like a turbine, humming with great power. Mekhar thought about what this mechanism was alleged to do and had a moment of doubt. Deep inside, down where calculation gave way to intuition, something told him that the device