Molly Fyde and the Blood of Billions

to get it out of the way, but left the cargo hatch open. Behind her, passengers were screaming. She glanced at the chase cam and saw several forms falling away behind, people that had not quite made it to the loading ramp.

There was nothing she could do for them. She wasn’t even sure she could save the rest. The thrusters were still warming up, barely managing the vast weight onboard, the turbines wailing in complaint. Molly fought to hold the ship steady; she watched as Cat and the others slid across the deck ahead of the tumbling crush of ships.

“Get ready back there!” she yelled over her shoulder. Feathering the thrust a little more, she turned the ship sideways, watching everything through the nav porthole. She held the lip of the cargo ramp to the deck as she backed up—lining it up with the crewmen sliding ahead of Cat. Behind them, the rolling mass of Firehawks seemed to be gaining.

The crewmen disappeared from sight as they got close. Molly could hear grunts and yells behind her, along with the satisfying thud of heavy objects impacting the lowered ramp, all sounds that hinted at Cat and the other crewmen having been scooped up. Someone shouted for her to go—but she already was. She fired the thrusters up and back as she fell away from the onrush of twisted, roaring steel, doing everything she could to lift the struggling ship above it.

A collision warning sounded out as she approached the solid wall at the back of the hangar—at the bottom of the hangar now that Lok’s gravity was in charge. Molly adjusted the thruster vents and punched the accelerator to full, shooting Parsona above the lowest section of the mound of moving debris.

The wing of a spinning Firehawk caught Parsona’s belly, shuddering the entire ship and sending out a deafening clank of metal on metal. One of the pilots squeezed up beside her and fumbled for the controls to close the cargo hatch. He then clutched the dashboard, knuckles white, as the danger passed beneath with a sickening shriek.

Even with the ship sealed shut, and dozens of people screaming in fear, Molly could hear the explosion of plasteel crashing against the wall of the hangar bay, the small fleet of ruined craft completing their plummet with a mix of squeals and bangs.

In the distance—at the other end of the cavernous space—a square of blue sky beckoned, urging them to safety.

Molly raced for it, eager to oblige.

39

Cole toweled off his face and nodded as Arthur gave him some final pointers. By the end of their two-hour session, he had finally scored some deflections on Penny, who seemed equal parts annoyed and impressed by the accomplishment. Arthur was setting up a time for practice the following day, when Mortimor entered the training room.

“Might have to reschedule that,” he said, interrupting their discussion.

“More people to meet?” Cole asked.

“You could say that. Or you could call it a field exercise. We’re planning another raid for tomorrow—”

Arthur shook his head. “No can do, buddy. We’ve got one batch of fuel growing—it’ll be a few days before it doubles.”

“We’re going to use most of it. We have no choice.”

“More than half? But then it’ll be a week before we get production back up.”

“We don’t have a week—”

“What are you guys talking about?” Cole asked.

The two men looked at each other. Arthur raised his eyebrows pleadingly. Mortimor hesitated, then shrugged.

“You said earlier that you knew what fusion fuel was,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, a microorganism, right?” He tried to remember what Byrne had told him.

“Yeah, well, we breed them. Just like the Navy does, but our own variety.” Arthur frowned. “The problem is, it takes quite a bit of time—”

“Time we don’t have,” Mortimor said. “Quite a few ships from the Bern fleet have already jumped out, and something massive popped into hyperspace last night and went through the rift as well. The thing was the size of a small moonlet. Our informant says Byrne flew the coop along with the craft, which means it might already be too late.”

“Too late for what?” Cole asked.

Mortimor turned to Cole. “These Bern are invading the Milky Way. If we can’t stop them, or close that rift, they’ll extinguish every piece of sentient life they find there. Some of the people you see roaming these hallways are all that survived entire other galaxies. Unless we do something, we might be all that’s left of ours.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Cole looked to Arthur, as if he would tell him it was all a joke.

Arthur shook his head. “The frustrating bit is that the rift is right there in that fleet somewhere, but we have no way of getting to it in order to close it.”

“Wouldn’t they just open another one, even if we did?”

Mortimor frowned. “Not from this side, they couldn’t. What kills me  is that we are the ones who opened the rift.” He took a deep breath. “Over a decade ago, we opened a hole between Lok and hyperspace—”

“Well, not we, exactly,” Arthur said.

“Right.” Mortimor nodded. “The Drenard underground did, not too long before I became a member. They opened two rifts, both leading to hyperspace, one from our central part of the cone and another in the wide part, where the rain freezes.”

He frowned. “It was a backdoor plan, a way to pull what they hoped would be a final raid, ending the deadlock here. They moved an entire army through in a single day. I was there for that part. My wife and I were staying in a house not long after Molly was born. An entire battalion came through one wall and disappeared into another. And then—”

Mortimor fell silent; Arthur shook his head, as if in empathy.

“And then what?” Cole asked.

“It’s history,” Mortimor said. He waved his hand, as if to brush away some lingering and awful memory. “The point is, when we—when they, the Underground, realized their attack had failed, they sealed the rifts, thinking that would be the end of it.”

“Obviously not,” said Cole.

“Yeah, well Ryke furthered his research from here and he realized these holes could be reopened from the other side—and with a normal hyperdrive, no less. To put it mildly, we got worried. Especially when we realized my wife, Parsona, had overhead enough in her fevered state to maybe put everything together—”

“When I found out about her,” Arthur interrupted, “I explained how my memory retrieval system worked. There’s the potential for total recall, even if it’s implemented in a manner to simulate forgetfulness.”

“And that’s when we figured out how the Prophecy was going to take place,” Mortimor said. “It explained the significance of Lok, at least. What we needed was our rift opened, the one near our headquarters, but Joshua and his men somehow beat us to it.”

“So now what?” Cole asked. “They’re invading Lok as we speak? That’s what those black ships were? And that’s where Molly is right now?”

“Yes. To all but the last, which I can’t know. I hope she’s a long way from whatever’s going on out there.”

“Well, why don’t we just fly through the rift and close it from the other side? You guys have ships, right?”

“Not really. Most of them don’t survive coming here, not if they aren’t adequately equipped beforehand. The ones that do usually end up in the snow, carried back into the cold and distant past. Besides, we wouldn’t last a second against that fleet. They probably don’t even see us as a threat. We’re just a bunch of freedom fighters