Molly Fyde and the Parsona Rescue

“Nah, I’m fine. Gonna get dressed and hail our jailor.” He marched off toward the rear of the ship.

Molly grabbed his helmet from its bin above her and flopped back into the chair. She checked her reflection in the visor, forcing a smile that seemed wooden and unnatural to her. “Well, I’m not fine,” she told herself.

Cole’s voice rumbled through the hull from the loud hailer. Molly put the helmet back and scurried toward the airlock. The boys emerged from their rooms, weary-eyed and confused.

“Morning,” Molly said as she joined them by the airlock.

“Morning, Captain,” Walter hissed.

“Pleasant awakenings,” grumbled Edison.

Molly squeezed Walter’s shoulder and patted Edison on the arm. I’m fine, she lied to herself.

Cole’s voice boomed in the distance, muffled by Parsona’s steel shell. She stuck her head in the airlock as he repeated his request in the loud-hailer. She could see the volume cranked all the way up, a setting used more for atmospheric flight than hangar bays.

The outer door whisked open, causing Cole to jump back.

“Ah, good morning!” said Albert. Without even needing to look, he reached in and turned the volume all the way down. “We can scratch off looking at hailer catalogs this morning, can’t we?” He said it with a friendly smile and no trace of sarcasm. His hand remained on the knob, touching it like he owned it. “Come, let’s get down to business, shall we?” He turned and made his way through the mating tube toward his own ship.

“Be right there,” Molly called after him. “Leave the door open for us so we don’t have to ring you, okay?”

He turned, the smile returning to his lips a hair too late. “My pleasure, Captain. Just trying to give you kids your privacy. Come to the lobby when you get freshened up. I’ll be taking care of some paperwork.” He strolled off, calling out as he went, “Just because I treat every customer like they’re my only concern doesn’t mean they’re my only customers!”

“The friendlier he gets the more I want to strangle him,” Cole remarked, watching him disappear.

“Tell me about it.”

Molly stuck her head into the cargo bay, looking for Walter. He was fiddling with his computer and telling Edison which things to pull out and where they were located. He seemed giddy with anticipation, probably eager to get bartering.

“Walter, I need to speak with you.”

“Of coursse, Captain. You know I love our talkss.” He holstered the computer and smoothed his gray jumpsuit. It was still too big for him, the wrinkles and folds just moved down to his waist, making his thin frame seem pudgy.

“What’s your sense of Albert? Smelling sense, I mean. Does the guy reek to you?”

Walters face scrunched up in concentration, the dull sheen of metal flesh glowing slightly. “Not one bit. I meant to ssay ssomething lasst night after dinner, but I wasss too sstuffed to remember. Ssomething Palan insside is sscreaming ‘a lie!’, but no ssmell. Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yess, but I musst tell you a ssecret.” He glanced at Edison, paused, then continued. “Palanss can rarely ssmell a lie on each other. We’re sso good at it, sso many generationss of—bargainerss. It’ss only useful for… tourisstss.” He had a hard time spitting it out. “Of coursse, I’m telling you what otherss tell me. I know little of thesse thingss. I would never lie to you, Molly.” His face flattened into a shield of sincerity.

“I know you wouldn’t.” She turned to Edison, glanced at his paw. “How’re you holding up?”

“Adequately improved.” He flashed his wide teeth. “Unless your preference is otherwise, I would appreciate the opportunity to conduct repairs on the aft section of Parsona with the day’s initial hours.”

“That would be great, Edison, thanks. Are you sure you don’t mind helping us install whatever we trade for today?”

“Few actions could increase my pleasure more.”

She patted his fur. “Thanks. Cole and I are going to meet with Albert. Keep an eye on Walter for me.”

Edison nodded and Molly returned to the airlock, where Cole was waiting for her.

“After you,” he said.

Molly ducked through the airlock hatch and crossed once more to Lady Liberty. Albert had clever excuses for the arrangement, but she had finally figured out the real reason for keeping the ships together: he just wanted to keep them locked up at night.

She felt another tinge of trepidation as she stepped out into the ship’s cargo bay. Knowing that a live Drenard lived aboard was unsettling. She glanced to the creature’s corner of the bay—it was empty. The thick chain, one end bolted to the bulkhead, snaked across the decking and curled up into the navigator’s seat. Something moved. Molly saw the Drenard’s head, small, bald and translucent blue, peeking around the corner. Those sad, wide eyes once again locked onto Molly’s.

She froze, then raised one hand toward her sworn enemy. Her fingers bent slightly in a small wave.

The head sucked back around the corner and the chain jangled softly.

Molly felt Cole’s hand on her back, guiding her toward the ramp.

“Hey, do you—”

“Yeah, I saw it,” he said. They clanged down the ramp together and he headed straight for the store entrance. Molly pulled him to a stop.

“That wasn’t what I was gonna ask.” She paused. “Do you think Albert was flying Lady Liberty yesterday?”

Cole’s eyes widened and darted up to the ship’s cockpit. “The Drenard? Gods, I bet you’re right! If so, man…” Cole shook his head. “The simulator doesn’t do them justice, does it? Wow. That would totally explain the Battle of Eckers, eh? And how they keep holding us off with inferior numbers.”

He glanced back up at the cockpit and chuckled. “That Drenard is better than you, you know.”

“Hey, I was working with a fractured wrist and a busted thruster.” Molly couldn’t believe his boy brain— making everything a competition—or the fact she fell right in with him. “Wanna tell me who wrecked my thruster?” she asked.

“Hey, I had nothing to do with your wrist, Ms. Sensitive.” He dodged back as he said it, obviously expecting a slap to the shoulder.

Molly considered it, but the return to their usual banter didn’t feel normal yet. They’d have to fake it a while longer before she could hit him in play. She forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as bad as it had in the visor, and crossed to the store lobby.

She entered and Albert rose from behind his desk. “Welcome, welcome!” he said, as if a customer had just strolled in from the street. “And here’s our Weapons Officer. Good morning, Cole!”

“I just saw you five minutes ago,” he complained, a thumb pointing over his shoulder.

“Of course, of course. I’m just excited to be doing business with you two. I’ve been updating my price sheets, and I really think we’ll be able to cut you a fantastic deal. Nothing top of the line, not for what you have to trade with, but something better than what you have now, right? I mean, anything is better than nothing!”

He moved around the desk and handed Molly a tablet. It displayed defense and arms modules with specs and pricing. He pointed at a number in the corner. “Here’s your total. I’ll let you know when you exceed the value of the goods that your wonderful little Cargo Officer has set aside.” He smiled and said it again. “Wonderful title, that. Cargo Officer.” He laughed again at some private joke.

Cole ticked items off his fingers. “Chaff pods, ECM, two lasers, a missile pod, suits for the crew, hand- stunners, a better first-aid kit—”

“Whoa, slow down,” Molly said.

Albert’s chuckling stopped; he looked at them gravely. “Are you kids planning a little war?” The serious facade cracked with more laughter. “Just kidding, of course. That sounds great, I’ll get right on it. The suits, of course, will take some time. I have a friend a few shops down the row who has the material we’ll need, and my wife is a wizard with alterations. Let me get started on that while you two take your time with the catalogs. Just