Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

Help your race. Wouldn’t you love to come back and give that information? Confess everything? Do a bit of good with your life?

“I know this Underground business isn’t you. I know you’re just a hurt teenage girl, messed up because your mother and father abandoned you and you washed out of the Academy. You aren’t brainwashed the way they were—you’re just confused. I know this. You know this.”

He stood up. “Go sit in your cell and think about what I’ve said. Think about where your lies and actions have gotten you so far. Think about the people you’ve hurt. And why have you done these things? For a dream of continuing something your parents started? What if what they were doing was wrong? Have you thought about that? Or do you just trust them because they birthed you on some backwoods planet and disappeared? How much do you know them? I think you should dwell on that as well.”

Saunders left the room, waving at the mirror as he went by. The two guards entered soon after he disappeared; they undid her cuffs from the bench and hauled her back to her cell.

Molly tried to see herself through their eyes as they handled her roughly:

Traitor.

Whipped dog.

Beaten.

She could feel it in her own flat, shuffling steps, and the way her toes never left the decking. She knew how it looked, knew it made it easier for them to pull her hands up high behind her, inflicting as much pain as they could.

She couldn’t really blame them.

••••

Not long after the guards left, having shoved her face into her bunk while they uncuffed her hands, Molly had another visitor. She expected Riggs, or someone else from the Academy, but she was surprised to see Saunders’s bulk looming through the bars.

“That’s what you call giving me time to think?” she asked, still rubbing the circulation back into her wrists.

“Get over here, Fyde.”

She pushed herself up and went to the bars.

“That was the speech they’ll record and analyze. This is the one between just you and me. I’ve already established your propensity for lying, so good luck trying to get anyone to believe your side of what I’m about to say.”

“Look, Admiral—”

“Can it, Fyde. Listen. I’m going to make a career off the mistakes you’re making. I’m going to win medals for cleaning up the mess your parents made and that you’re now smearing across the galaxy. But I meant every word of my speech back there. You can do some good with the little amount of life you have left, before you crash and burn in spectacular fashion. And before you start thinking on these things, I want you to know how I found out about your parents and their work on Lok. The official version is some miraculous sleuthing on my part—enough to skip a few ranks and get Zebra command—but I want you to know what really happened. Just so you realize what you’re up against. How good my intel is.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Lucin told me everything.”

“What?”

“Everything.” His smile faded, jowls collapsing. “I held him as he died in his office. He was spitting up blood and spilling his guts, and not just those that you and Cole blasted out of him. He told me about the special assignment your parents were on. About the Drenard Underground. About what I would find on your ship if I looked hard enough. He told me everything.”

“Saunders, listen. Whatever he said—”

“Let me guess, it was a lie? I think we’ve sorted out the liars from the heroes without your help. I’ll take a dying man’s word over a traitor trying to save her ass any day of the week.”

Saunders stood as straight as he could, tugging down on his black jacket. “I’m telling you this so you can keep Lucin’s last words on your mind as you think about what you need to do. The words he sputtered with his very last breath. He didn’t ask me to tell his wife that he loved her. He didn’t leave any inspiring words for the Academy or anything for him to be remembered by. He used them on you.

“‘Save her,’ he told me. ‘Save her.’ I think he meant for me to save your soul. Rescue you from yourself. It’s going to be up to you on whether or not you made that great man waste his final breath. Did a galactic hero perish worrying about a soul that couldn’t be redeemed? Or was his hope for you justified?

“So, while you’re in here scheming on how to fool me, think on that. You think on whether you want to keep secrets or if you should just tell me what you know.”

He turned and stomped off down the hall, leaving her with her befuddled thoughts.

What did she know?

She knew Walter was a dead Palan if she ever got her hands on him, that was one thing she felt absolutely certain of. She now knew the Drenard Underground existed and that her parents had investigated them on Lok, maybe even gotten involved with them. There was a slim chance her father was a Drenard by rite, if her “mother” could be trusted. But what if Saunders and the Navy had it wrong about the Drenards? It was something she’d been dwelling on since meeting Anlyn. What if the war was some kind of massive misunderstanding? The Drenards had seemed no more prone to kill her or assist her than any other race had, humans included. What if they—meaning every race in the galaxy—were just terrified, confused, and lashing out?

What else did she know? She knew she could trust Cole. There was no point in questioning him. Even if she ended up wrong about him, she wouldn’t mind if that mistake got her killed. She’d likely welcome it with open arms, as she nearly did the last time she doubted him.

What about Lucin? He lied to her and used her. Would he really have lied to Saunders as he died? What would be the point? And what if Saunders had made up that entire scene?

Molly thought about the Navy men sitting in her pilot seat right then, chatting away on the nav keyboard and pretending to be her. What would her mother be telling them? Surely nothing more than she’d been willing to divulge already. And why wouldn’t she see them on the camera? Or overhear their conversations? It didn’t make sense, unless her mom was playing them for fools.

Then again, if it was something her mother knew, why would Navy cryptographers have to ask her? That knowledge would be stored as 1s and 0s on the nav computer. They could just take the info.

What about her other mom? Was she really dead? Would that explain the intense bout of white light and noise she’d endured on Dakura?

She lay back on her bunk and looked up at the underside of the sagging mattress above. What should she do? Carry these mistakes to her grave? Hope her father could rescue himself? Hope her mom would get whatever sensitive information she had to the right people?

And what about the Wadi? Molly rubbed her temples. The thing never even got a name. What would they do when they found an unknown species onboard her ship? Would they dissect her?

Then there was Cole. He would be killed, and for what? For helping her? For falling in love with her? He said on Drenard he wasn’t afraid of his own death, but Molly was plenty afraid for him.

Maybe Saunders was right. Maybe all of this was her fault and she just needed to throw her chips in with the Navy. Every misadventure had been predicated on her absolute faith in two parents she hardly knew. Was it okay to love and trust people completely for no other reason than they birthed you?

And then there was Byrne. Molly had almost forgotten about him. Was he dead? She watched him stand there in a complete vacuum. Could you fit robotics that complicated in such a thin shell? Whether or not he survived, what did he have to do with all this? Why did he suggest he owned her?

Molly grabbed the rough pillow under her head and pressed it into her face. She used it to muffle a yell of frustration, her stomach clenching with the effort.

The screams gradually turned to sobs, her entire body giving in to the overwhelming sadness.

She pulled the pillow tighter to her face, smothering her despair and desperation.