Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

Parsona dished out in a straight line. Which was unfortunate, really. She would need more if they were going to outrun these guys.

“GN-290 ship identification Parsona, do not flee. Cease thruster burn immediately. We will fire. I repeat, this is Naval Task Force Delta KPR76, and we will fire to kill. You are in a hostile no-fly zone. Cease thruster burn immediately. Over.”

Cole tagged each Navy ship with hostile indicators. Parsona had received a few upgrades over the past two weeks: two laser cannons recessed in the leading wings, a missile pod hidden in one of the large rear wings, and some basic defenses to boot. It wasn’t enough to take on a few Firehawks, much less an entire fleet, but the routine tasks seemed to give him something to do.

“What’d you tell my mom?” Molly asked.

“Are you serious? I told her we’d get back to her. Now what’s your plan, ’cause I don’t see any way out besides a brig and a court-martial.”

“I’m thinking—”

The radio cut her off. “GN-290 Parsona, this is Naval Task Force Delta KPR76. There’s a seizure notice out on your ship. You will be considered hostile. Cease thruster burn or we will begin firing missiles. Over.”

“Think faster, babe. We’ve got two chaff pods, and I’m just guessing here, but they probably have more than two missiles.”

“The first thing we’re gonna do is not call me ‘babe.’ Ever.” Molly shot Cole a menacing look and leaned forward to study the nav charts and SADAR display. She had the ship in a straight-line burn away from the fleet and toward the black hole and star. She did some quick and dirty math in her head. Even if the Navy fleet came after them at full speed, Parsona would still get to the two-body system first.

“Okay, I’ve got an idea. I need you use that charming mouth of yours and talk the Navy out of firing their missiles. I’m gonna make a full burn right at the star and get there before they do.”

Cole reached to the controls that patched his helmet mic through to the radio. “I’d like to veto hiding inside the star. Can you give me a few other ideas to choose from?”

“I’m not going to hide in the star, wise guy, I’m gonna use it to catapult us into clear space on the other side, just like we slingshot cargo from one orbit to another back home.”

“Not bad,” Cole said. “I’ll buy you some time.” He keyed the radio mic. “Naval Task Force Delta KPR76, this is Parsona KML32. We’re having a thruster malfunction. Requesting assistance. Over.”

Molly shot Cole a look of disappointment.

He shrugged. “What?”

The nearest Firehawk spat out a missile in reply.

3

“Gods, Cole, I wanted you to buy us some time, not instigate them.”

“It was the first thing I thought of,” Cole said. “I figured the grain of truth would help. Can’t they see we’re running with a limp?” He keyed the radio again. “KPR76, Parsona here. We’re having thruster problems, I repeat, we are having thruster problems. Cease fire. Over.”

Molly watched the SADAR to see if another missile would punctuate Cole’s lie. This was the first time she’d seen his charms fail so spectacularly; she’d always thought it’d be an enjoyable experience if it ever happened—but she was wrong. Without doing the math, she could see the missile would reach them well before they got a boost from the star’s gravity.

“Less comms, more chaff,” she said.

Cole keyed up their new chaff modules. “You want me to release early so we have time to arm the second pod?”

Good question, Molly thought. If they waited too long, they were giving themselves only one chance to fool the missile. On the other hand, if they showed their cards too soon, the Navy would see they were dealing with an armed vessel and ramp up the attack.

As a team, Molly and Cole had hundreds of hours in Navy simulators together, facing these exact tactical quandaries. They always tried to pretend the situations were actually occurring—to truly feel the specter of death hovering over them, pressuring them to make mistakes. It was the only proper way to train their minds as well as their reflexes.

Now they were in actual danger. A blinking red light crept across the SADAR screen, making its way to the center of the concentric range circles like a bullet homing in on a bull’s-eye. Only, this time, it wasn’t for keeping score; they wouldn’t get yelled at if they made the wrong decision. That red dot was not part of a game or training exercise—it represented their deaths.

Molly considered all this in a flash and marveled at how calm she felt. Her brain seemed clearer than it had ever been in the simulator. Despite the reversal of roles—her piloting from the left while Cole asked her advice—she felt like this was what they’d trained for. And it was more than just the thousands of hours in the simulator. In many ways, the fear of dying could not match the anxiety of humiliation. Not for her, at least. She considered the approaching missile and the timing on the chaff pods, performing some quick and dirty math.

“Wait for it,” she told Cole. She keyed the shortwave radio and tried a bit of old-fashioned honesty.

“This is KML32 Parsona, Captain Molly Fyde speaking. I’m a former Naval cadet. There are children onboard this ship, I repeat, there’s a crew of five youth aboard this ship. Cease firing. Over.”

A second missile spat out of a neighboring Firehawk.

Cole fired a curse at his SADAR screen. Molly started to protest, but the radio chimed in before she could. “Parsona, Naval Task Force Delta. If you cease thruster burn, we will de-arm both missiles prior to impact. This is your final warning. Cease thruster burn and prepare to be boarded. The missiles will be de-armed. Over.”

Molly pulled her hand away from the mic and rested it on the accelerator controls, contemplating pulling back. “What are our chances here?” she asked.

Cole surveyed the situation on SADAR, watching the second missile speed after its companion. “If both chaff work, we could stop these two and probably get to your slingshot gambit in time. But only if they don’t fire any more in the next few minutes.” He looked over at Molly and raised his visor; she could see the worry on his face, clear as carboglass. “I don’t think it’ll go well for you and me if they pick us up, but we gotta consider the rest of the crew.”

“Trust me, I am thinking about them. They’re the reason I haven’t pulled back on the throttle yet.”

“I don’t follow. And we have about two minutes before we need to decide.”

“You think they’re gonna to be harsh on you and me for Lucin’s death? And Palan? Think about Walter being sent back to his uncle after breaking us out and stealing Parsona from them. Think about what they’ll do to Anlyn, Cole. Or how kindly the Navy will take to Edison after they were run out of the Glemot system. I would poll them if we had the time, but I have a feeling they’d rather take their chances with the missiles.”

“We need to decide,” Cole said.

Molly tried. If it were just her and Cole, she probably would never have run in the first place. She would’ve taken their chances in a Navy courtroom, explaining the sequence of events that had led them to their current predicament, trusting their status as minors, anything to guarantee Cole would live another day. But they all were running from something, her crew especially. Each of the crewmembers had taken a massive risk to get away, placing his or her trust in them. They had to do anything they could to escape.

The radio crackled: “Parsona, Naval Task Force Delta. Advise, you have one