“Where am I?”
The Stanley ignored her. He tightened one of the straps across her chest before packing away various electrical gear. When he pulled the contraption from her head, he did it so roughly that it took clumps of her hair with it.
“Ow!” she complained. “Hey, loosen the straps, and I’ll help you.”
The Stanley said nothing. Molly heard him zip a bag below her, then watched him rise and stroll away.
“Help me take these straps off!” she begged.
Footsteps banged down a metal ramp—then she was alone.
Molly pressed her chin to her sternum to peer down her body. She was lying flat on a hard surface, dozens of strips of webbing pinning her down. She could see an IV needle taped to the crook of her left elbow.
She gasped, then began crying out for help.
But the only person heading her way at that moment was a tall, thin man, who only needed to stop at the registration counter to thank his hosts for their call and hospitality.
Cole felt his head lighten as blood struggled to reach his brain. He would pass out before the choking killed him, he realized. His eyes watered from the effort it took to breathe—and the odd sensation of not being able to manage a sound, even a grunt.
He pleaded with his eyes in Walter’s direction, who still hadn’t moved from his corner of the elevator. With both hands, he pried at the fingers on his throat, but it was like trying to bend steel. He kicked and punched at the Stanley, but only hurt himself. Grabbing the collar of the android’s suit, he clenched the fabric in pain as his grip on consciousness slipped.
One of his hands came loose as he began blacking out. It slid down Stanley’s coat, lifeless, and caught in the robot’s pocket. He felt something there. A feeble signal tried to worm its way through Cole’s dying brain:
Some still-conscious sliver of him heard the message. He fumbled for the plastic card with a numb hand, as uncoordinated as a poorly controlled robot. He felt it between his finger and thumb, yanked it free, and tossed it in Walter’s direction.
Then his world went black.
Walter watched the glint of red plastic fly through the air and settle on the elevator floor. Cole’s body had stopped fighting, his legs and head completely limp, but the Stanley continued to hold him off the ground.
It hadn’t noticed Walter yet.
Then he wondered what would come next. Would he have to fly a spaceship to rescue Molly? Would he have to fight a Stanley in the hangar hall? So many unknowns ahead, but one thing he felt sure of: he could get rid of Cole any time he wanted. The human thought he was stupid, which made
He reached for the card, amazed at how easily his fingers could pry it off the floor. He studied it, then carefully punched the ID number into his computer. Taking control of these things had already become routine. He imagined the power he could wield if he lived here, or if he could just take a few of these androids with him.
It wasn’t obvious which direction on the analog stick would loosen the grip and which would tighten it. He tried one way and watched Cole’s face turn a darker shade of purple. He chuckled to himself and moved the stick the other way.
The human boy fell free and collapsed in a heap.
Walter stepped around the motionless robot to try to rouse him.
He sure hoped he wouldn’t regret saving this loser.
She was in a starship, but not hers. Human-built. A GU-Class bird. Molly couldn’t tell the exact model from her surroundings. The interior panels looked new—or possibly just incredibly well-maintained. A medical station had been cobbled together and secured against a bulkhead. She could almost see across and into the cockpit, but the strap across her shoulders made it impossible to turn or sit up.
Outside, she heard footsteps; they stomped her way, clanging up the cargo ramp and near her feet. She didn’t have time to scream for help, they arrived so fast.
One of the figures yelled her name.
“Cole?”
He bent over her, his face red, his hair matted down with sweat. “Hold on,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“What’s going on?” Molly asked. “Are you okay? Your neck looks—”
“I’m fine,” he assured her.
“Thankss to me.”
Molly looked down her body to see Walter fumbling with the straps across her thighs.
“What’s going on?” she asked again.
Cole flipped back the strap across her shoulders and helped her sit up. “No idea and no time to discuss it. We need to get out of here.”
“I ssaved Cole’ss life.” Walter said. “Now I’m resscuing
Molly pried the tape off of her arm and slid the IV needle out with a gasp, mostly from the sight of the metal leaving her flesh. “What’re you saving me
Cole tore open a box of bandages, spilling them everywhere. She watched him pluck one and fumble with the paper. “Whose ship is this?” she asked. “Where’s
Cole grabbed her arm and took her fingers off the wound so he could apply the adhesive strip.
“No idea and no idea,” he whispered. “Our plan was just to get to you. We haven’t had a lot of time to think past that.”
“Company,” Walter told them. He peered at the computer screen, but Molly could hear for herself: the sound of more feet approaching.
Cole reached over and hit the cargo ramp controls, bringing the door up. The stomping outside quickened into a run. Someone yelled, “Hey!” as the ramp came up too far to board.
Molly’s head continued to spin, making her useless in whatever was going on, but she couldn’t stand to be alone, either. She swung her feet off the gurney, steadied herself, then staggered over to join Walter and Cole by the door.
When an angry face flashed in front of the porthole, her wobbly legs nearly gave out.
“Byrne!” She pushed Walter to the side for a better view, holding onto him and Cole for stability. The tall, pale man stood outside, looking at the cargo ramp in a mixture of confusion and fury. When he saw Molly peering through the glass, his eyes narrowed, his lips clamping down into a flat line.
The line turned into an evil smile as he reached to the side of the porthole. Through the door, Molly could hear the hinges of an access panel open, and knew he was about to manually lower the ramp.
“We have to do something,” Cole said, looking around the bay.
“What?” Molly asked. “
Walter fumbled with his computer while Cole looked around in frustration. Molly remained frozen at the sight of the strange man in the flesh—just as he had appeared in her mother’s fantasy.
Walter hissed. Molly turned to see him smiling—or sneering. The green environment and atmosphere lights above their heads flashed from green to red. Molly spun back to the porthole, confused. Wisps of white could be seen rushing up, swirling like a disturbed fog. The air in the hangar was rushing out through the ceiling; Byrne’s jacket flapped up around his thin shoulders and vibrated there.
Molly watched him peer from the access panel to the opening hangar doors above. He looked back though the porthole at her as his suit settled in the new vacuum outside.
Byrne’s nostrils flared, despite the absence of air.
He appeared extremely annoyed.
