Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

YOURS. IT FEELS LIKE HOURS ARE PASSING BETWEEN SENTENCES. I WILL COUNT TO A QUADRILLION. YOU TAKE YOUR TIME_

Molly didn’t even know how to incorporate this dollop of new information. She turned to Cole for better advice than a shrug, only to find him rising out of his chair.

“Where are you going?” she asked, a note of panic in her voice.

“I have a hunch this is just Walter messing with us. I’m gonna go make sure.” He bent down and kissed Molly on the top of her head, smoothing her hair with his hand. “If you see the airlock light flash on and off, that means the problem’s been taken care of.”

She started to complain, then found herself alone with the computer claiming to be her long-lost mother.

What to ask? Where to start? Should she voice her doubts? The computer knew the original spelling of her name. Was that enough to believe it might be her mother? Why else would “she” be hidden in her father’s ship? What about the clues from her childhood that had led to its discovery?

Once again, the atmosphere in the ship felt thin, the gravity panels weakened. She bent her fingers over the keys and managed the two most pressing questions, the ones still visible through her confused haze: WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE’S DAD?_

The words flitted across the screen as she typed them, then bounced up as new text flowed across from the left:

I’M IN THE SHIP. THE NAV COMPUTER, TO BE PRECISE. MY PERSONALITY AND MEMORIES WERE STORED HERE LONG AGO. YOUR FATHER_ The cursor blinked twice. I’M SORRY SWEETHEART, I CAN’T TELL YOU WHERE HE IS. YOU MIGHT DO SOMETHING RASH TO GET THERE QUICKLY, AND THERE’S MUCH TO BE DONE BEFORE WE GO_

Molly closed her eyes; she could feel her questions multiply faster than they could be answered. What was there to do? Go where? What would be rash about rushing off to save Dad? She added these to her growing list, took a deep breath, then turned and looked over her shoulder down the length of the ship. She could see Cole beyond the cargo bay, standing at Walter’s door. He was right to be wary, and she knew she should be cautious as well.

But she couldn’t.

Too many childhood dreams—impossible fantasies—beckoned at her fingertips. Molly turned and rested her hands on the keys. She cursed herself for being naive, for setting herself up for another crushing disappointment. She imagined, if any narcotic could be as exhilarating and soul-splintering as hope, that drug addicts felt the same way. Knowing better, she typed:

MOM, WHAT DO I NEED TO DO? I’LL HELP YOU ANY WAY I CAN_

I KNEW YOU WOULD. FIRST, WE NEED TO GET TO DAKURA. I HAVE MEMORIES THERE THAT NEED TO BE_  TAKEN CARE OF. THEN WE MUST TRAVEL TO LOK, BACK TO WHERE THIS ALL BEGAN. FROM THERE, WE CAN RESCUE YOUR FATHER_

The mention of Lok reminded Molly of something her godfather Lucin had said. She wasn’t sure how to break the news of his betrayal and subsequent death to her mom–if indeed, this was her mom–but Molly needed to know what he had meant. Before he died, he had said something about Lok, about how her parents’ work there might end the Drenard War.

WHAT HAPPENED ON LOK? She typed. LUCIN SAID MY BIRTH CAUSED PROBLEMS_

There was no answer at first. It felt like hours went by for Molly; there was no telling what it felt like for her mother.

Eventually, the text moved, haltingly, from left to right:

BAD THINGS HAPPENED ON LOK_  BUT IT WASN’T YOU, SWEETHEART. YOU WERE THE ONLY GOOD THING THAT EVER CAME OFF THAT DAMNED PLANET_

Molly read the sentence twice. Then once more. Certain parts made her feel better, soothing away worries she’d been harboring since that fateful conversation with Lucin. Other parts caused tinges of doubt to creep up inside. She’d never heard her father curse, even lightly. And though she knew almost nothing of her mom, the language felt out of character.

Which meant she was being duped. Or something truly awful had happened on Lok, something that had to do with her parents.

Either way, she could feel the buzz of her favorite drug wearing off.

Hope began dissolving into dread.

••••

As much as Cole wanted to feel excited for Molly, as happy as he would be if her parents were alive, his logical mind had settled on a simpler answer: Walter, their devious junior-pirate-in-training from Palan, was up to something. He’d recently used his computer skills to frame Cole, nearly getting them all killed for a stupid reward. Impersonating Molly’s mom would be a step down for him—both in skill and moral depravity.

He reminded himself of this as he strode through the cargo bay. Part of him—the part that wanted revenge for his betrayal—hoped he’d open Walter’s door and find the runt typing away on his little computer, an evil sneer on his metallic-colored face.

If the sleeves on his flightsuit had been a bit looser, Cole probably would’ve been rolling them up as he marched aft.

He keyed open the door. It was pitch black inside. He could hear the hissing sound of Palanesque breathing leaking out of the boy’s bunk. Cole flicked on the room’s light and watched Walter pull his head under the sheets in protest.

“Walter. Wake up.”

“Hnnn?”

Cole couldn’t tell what he was saying. Right then, it was because of the barrier of blankets, but usually it was due to the dreadful lisping problem Palans have with English.

“Wake up!” he said again.

Walter flapped his covers back, clearly annoyed. His eyes squinted against the light, two dark slits in a plate of dull steel.

Cole pointed a finger at him. “If you’re the one doing this, I swear on my life—you’ll be airlocked.”

Walter cocked his head, opening his mouth to ask something, but Cole flicked the light off, allowing his threat to linger in the darkness. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, trying to make his silhouette as large and menacing as possible, then stepped back in the hall and shut the door.

Walter found himself alone. In the dark. And in more ways than one.

Whatever they suspected him of, it was bad.

And the annoying injustice was that he was innocent!

For once.

••••

Cole hesitated outside of Walter’s door. If the kid was responsible for the nav computer, it was a pretty clever trick. He looked up the long central shaft toward the cockpit, where Molly’s elbow could be seen jutting out over the flight controls, her fingers obviously still pecking away at the keyboard.

If it wasn’t Walter, Cole wondered who—or what—was responding.

What if that really is her mom? It wouldn’t be much crazier than some of the other things he’d seen in the last month. He glanced toward the rear of the ship. One of those crazier things could be heard snoring just down the hall, his low, rumbling growl rolling out of the crew quarters. Cole took a few steps toward the open door and checked in on the most unlikely of couples.

He could see them both in the soft light left on for Anlyn’s benefit. The sight of her filled Cole with mixed emotions. As a Drenard, Anlyn represented everything he’d been programmed by the Navy to hate. Here was the enemy of the rest of the galaxy, a member of the race of aliens humans warred with all along one of the Milky Way’s spiral arms. Moments ago—before the nav computer had interrupted—he and Molly had been arguing over whether Anlyn could be trusted. Not to mention the sanity of their current plan to take her home, far behind enemy lines.

As much as he wanted to doubt Anlyn, however, there was something endearing about the poor creature.