mark here,” he indicated a box, “with anything you’re interested in. Add as much as you like, we’ll compare the packages when I get back.
“Oh, and make yourselves comfortable,” he gestured toward a leather sofa crouching behind a glass table on the other side of the lobby. While Molly and Cole followed his gaze, Albert snuck away to his living quarters, his fancy suit singing as it rubbed together.
They plopped down with the tablet between them and started hammering out the details. Without knowing what they could or couldn’t afford, they had to set up multiple packages in a wide range of prices. When they came to pages of Navy regulation products they recognized, and a few pieces of forbidden technology from other races— Drenard included—the tactical debate turned into an ethical argument.
Molly felt relieved that her father wasn’t there, that he couldn’t see her in this seedy joint, contemplating the purchase of contraband. The guilty feelings that had kept her awake the night before came flooding back, making her feel tired and depressed. Gradually, Cole assumed command of the conversation and Molly’s doubts wilted under the glare of his cold rationality.
The Weapons Officer ruse had become reality without her noticing.
They had been at it for over an hour when Walter came in, looking sheepish. “Where’ss Albert?” he asked them.
Cole nodded toward the living quarters. Walter didn’t hesitate, rushing after their host as if he were welcome anywhere in the asteroid. As the door swung open, domestic sounds flooded the lobby: cabinet doors slamming, children screaming after one another, Mrs. Gaines admonishing someone and Albert’s voice an echo, backing up his wife.
Molly shook her head at the normalcy. This combination of arms dealer, captor, slave holder, family man, and business tycoon made pegging Albert impossible. She could dwell on one aspect of the man, depending on whether she wanted to vilify him or attempt to trust him, but neither answer felt right. She needed him to sit in his lair, rubbing his hands together as his henchmen gathered around and he planned his domination of the galaxy. Anything redeemable—if he oozed all that slime simply to help his family slide through life—made him harder to loathe.
What Molly needed was a reminder. “Are you good here?” she asked Cole.
He looked surprised. “You going in there as well?”
“No way. I just… I wanted to check on Edison. See how the thruster repairs are going.”
“Yeah, sure. I think I know what sort of balance we’re settling on here. Go ahead. And hey, if the crazy bear has added two more thrusters and upgraded the landing gear, don’t be surprised.”
“I won’t,” she grinned.
29
Molly entered the hangar to the sounds of Edison hammering on
Molly hesitated for a moment.
Then she took a few steps toward the front of the ship, approaching from the side to get a clear view around the doorjamb while keeping her distance. When the chain rattled slightly, Molly nearly turned and fled out to the hangar, but somehow she kept her nerves in check.
The small, blue head peeked out at her. Molly raised both hands, showing her palms to the alien. The eyes withdrew, but she could still see the crown of its bald scalp, the light from the hangar filtering into the carboglass and then through its clear skin. It looked like a mere child, half the mass of an adult Drenard. Molly’s size.
Molly took a few more steps forward and the rest of the head withdrew. She called out softly, “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a friend, okay? My name’s Molly.” She continued to reassure the Drenard, and herself, as she crept into the rear portion of the cockpit. When she could see its shoulder over the edge of the nav chair, she stopped. Fighting to keep her voice steady, she asked, “Your name is Anlyn, right? That’s a very pretty name, Anlyn. Very pretty. My name’s Molly. Can you say my name?”
“Molly.” It came out less than a whisper but more than a sigh. The pronunciation was flawless. It seemed the act of communicating at all was what the creature needed practice with.
“That’s right. My name’s Molly. I’m a ship captain. A pilot. Do you like to fly?”
Molly saw an immediate reaction. The alien’s smooth head turned to her, its pale eyes locking with her own. The sight of this poor thing gazing up at her filled Molly with the anguish of conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to sweep the girl into her arms. Part of her just wanted to bash those chains. And years of training lashed out at both ideas.
Anlyn parted her thin, blue lips. “I can fly,” she said. “But I don’t like to.”
Molly wanted to ask her why, but the Drenard cut her off.
“You’re not supposed to be here, and I’m not supposed to talk to you. Albert will hurt me if he finds us. Go, please,” she whispered.
Her head pressed back to her knees, her eyes fixed on her toes.
Molly thought of a dozen things to say, but remained silent. She imagined herself walking a little further and touching that clear shoulder, but she didn’t. Instead, she became overcome with sadness. A new kind. Directed at someone besides herself.
She turned and followed the chain back to the cargo bay.
Molly found Edison at one of the workbenches, working a rag over some contraption. He turned to face her as she approached, a massive smile dominating his face. “Technology is spectacular,” he said. “I’m extremely appreciative of the opportunity to manipulate it.”
She scratched his arm and pressed her lips into a flat line. “Have you seen the girl in Albert’s ship?”
“The Drenard? Absolutely. Extremely fragile, in my estimation.”
“She’s a slave, Edison.”
“I concur. Liberated organisms do not decorate themselves with chains.”
Molly thought about some of her classmates at Avalon and wondered if arguing Edison’s point would serve any purpose.
“You desire assisting her, correct?” Edison asked. “Emancipation? The similarities to Cole’s plan in liberating Walter immediately returns to my attention.”
“No, buddy. I mean, yeah, I wanna do something for her, but we’re not in any shape to help out. Nothing Albert’s about to sell us is gonna dent the stuff he keeps for himself.” She thought about this—about the obvious need for such an imbalance. You can’t sell arms that you don’t have your own defenses for. She glanced at the invisible hangar door. And you could never release defense technology
“Hey, I need you to do me a favor. I’m not sure if it’ll help, but there’s an hour-long back-scratching just for trying, okay?”
Edison nodded vigorously, agreeing before she even got to the details.
Behind them, a pale blue head rose in the cockpit’s porthole and two small eyes watched the scene below.
The wetness on them could’ve been mistaken for the glare of hangar lights on carboglass.
Molly re-entered the lobby and found Cole, Walter, and Albert crowded around the store computer. Walter nodded gravely as Albert summed up the list Cole had picked out. Molly joined them on the other side of the desk to see for herself.
