Molly Fyde and the Fight for Peace

sir. They’ve sent a spreadsheet showing a revised invasion schedule, with or without the, uh… the data stored in your arms. I can send the file through to your internals if you like.”

Byrne felt his programming stutter at the mention of the damned arms. That was all anyone around the conference table wanted to discuss. His arms. When would he get them back? Why weren’t there backup copies of all the intel he’d gathered on the Milky Way? How had he not foreseen one day being without them?

Right then, all Byrne wanted his limbs for was to pound the conference table to bits. He wanted to wave away the criticisms, to dispel the nonsense made by hindsight. He wanted a fist to shake.

“So the Senate wishes us to hurry,” he said, forcing a smile he didn’t feel.

A scattering of laughter floated around the table.

Byrne nodded to the invasion fleet’s head physicist. “What’s the latest on the rift?”

“The size has stabilized, sir, but we’re still showing a massive strain on local spacetime with each ship that comes through.”

“So there’s no bringing them through any faster?”

“No, sir. Not and still give each of the six folded dimensions time to properly recoil—”

“We take your word for it,” Byrne said, the interruption feeling rude without a polite raise of his hand. He looked around the table at the various heads of invasion divisions. Most of the eyes pointed his way were of the fleshy variety. Not for the first time, Byrne wondered what they felt of his being in charge. Was he seen as an abomination? One of their tools out of control? He didn’t think so. He often felt something more humiliating: That they just looked at him the way they did their communicators after they’d been popped out of their ear canals and set on the table before them.

“I understand the Senate’s impatience, and I understand each of yours,” Byrne said. “However, if the science says we can’t bring the fleet through any faster, I don’t see that we have a choice. It’s not as if this galaxy poses a threat to us, so we form up as steady as we can right here until the jump data is retrieved.”

The Personnel Chief raised his hand. “But when will that be?” He glanced at the others as they turned to face him. “And it’s not that the crews are grumbling about the time away from home, they just want to know when they’ll see some action.”

“I thought you were expecting your—” The Weapons Officer looked away from Byrne’s gaze and glanced at the knotted and empty sleeves at his shoulders. “—your data back days ago.”

“I was,” Byrne said. “I am. The agent I have working on this has our coordinates. I’m just waiting for the delivery.”

“While we wait, the Drenard invasion against the Humans continues and is taking a heavy toll.”

Everyone around the table turned to the other automaton in the room, the only figure among them who didn’t look anything like a good Bern. Agent Bodi stood in a far corner, preferring as always to keep his blue-tinted skin in the shadows. As uncomfortable as his presence made the others feel, Byrne felt a sort of connection to his mechanical brethren, his fellow plant among the enemy. But he also felt a twinge of disgust. So many other, more primal circuits inside of him had been designed to loathe the appearance of anything un- Bern.

Cinthya, the fleet’s Cultural Advisor turned to Bodi. “Are you really worried about the loss of Drenard life?” Byrne thought she sounded more professionally curious than shocked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bodi said, which caused more than a few spines to stiffen. “The start of our invasion was coordinated to ease the progress of this one. If we wait until the Drenards have already wiped out the Humans, I assure you we’ll have a messier time scrubbing their blue filth out of this galaxy than we would have otherwise. They’ll be battle-hardened and they’ll be everywhere.”

“Bodi is right,” Byrne said. Chairs squeaked as everyone turned their attention back to the table. “But we still have plenty of time before we need to worry, and every passing day, more of our ships arrive from hyperspace —”

“Hello, hello, hello. Testing. One. Two.”

“I’m sorry, more of our ships arrive from—”

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Pardon me,” Byrne told the division heads. He turned to his assistant and nodded. “I believe our agent is making contact.”

The young officer jumped up from his seat and inspected the band on Byrne’s forehead. “Is it coming through okay? Do I need to rearrange anything?”

Byrne wanted to wave him away. As he collected his thoughts, forcing them into the circuits of the Drenardian Communicator, he suddenly realized why the fleshy Bern touch their ears while talking to distant people. With all the curious gazes pointed his way, Bern had an overwhelming urge to rest his missing hand along the band’s edge, signifying to the others that he was speaking to someone not present—

••••

“I’m here. Iss that you, Walter?”

Walter nodded. He reached out from the covers and flicked off the overhead lights. He could pretend to be asleep and continue to talk if Molly barged in.

“Walter, iss that you?”

“Yeah,” Walter thought. “Lissten, about that meeting —”

“Yess, Walter, I wass jusst disscusssing that with my ssuperiorss.”

Walter dug his fingers into his ears, as if he could plug the annoying hiss.

“I loaded the coordinatess you gave me into our hyperdrive, jusst like you ssuggessted,” Walter thought, “But sshe didn’t make the jump.”

“But you promissed,” the voice said.

“I know, but there’ss been a change of planss. I don’t think we’re jumping to hypersspacse anymore.”

“What’ss going on, Walter? I can’t promisse you all thiss gold if you can’t come through for me —”

“I think we’re gonna be jumping individual people to ssomewhere tonight,” Walter interrupted. “I’m gonna have to undo the changess I made to the hyperdrive or they’re gonna find out. I’m ssorry.”

“Individual people? What do you mean?”

Walter pulled his sheets up over his head. “There’ss thesse sshipss here keeping uss from going anywhere, sso I think ssome friendss of mine are gonna ssend people ssomewhere with the hyperdrive. I’m gonna have to change it back to the way it was.”

“Walter, iss there any chancse you could ssend yoursself ssomewhere with the hyperdrive?”

Walter thought about that.

“I’m not ssure,” he thought.

The voice in his head was silent.

“Hello?” Walter thought.

“One ssecond,” the voice said.

“I don’t know what to do,” Walter thought miserably.

The intolerable silence grew.

“Okay, Walter, I’ve got ssome numberss I need you to jot down.”

Walter fumbled at his belt for his portable computer. He powered it on under the covers, filling the small tent with an eerie luminescence.

“Okay,” Walter thought, as soon as the screen lit up. “What kind of numberss?”

“Thesse are ssome new coordinatess,” the voice in his head hissed. “I want you to jump to them asss ssoon asss you can.”

“I’ll try,” Walter thought.

“And, Walter?”