Molly Fyde and the Fight for Peace

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to bring Molly along with you.”

“Okay,” Walter thought.

Images and dreams of a cube of gold the size of a moon filled his imagination, as vivid and bright as the voice invading his mind.

“I promissse,” he hissed out loud, enraptured by the vision of so much shiny goodness, all of it soon to be his.

14 · Parsona

Molly clipped her harness to the eyebolt by the cargo door and stood ready to haul in bags of supplies. Each of the climbers had at least one black duffle, which they pushed ahead of themselves using ascenders that ratcheted along the ropes in one direction while refusing to slide down in the other. The sound of the thrusters holding Parsona in place erased the labored grunts of the climbers as they made their way up to the cargo bay and handed off the gear. Walter even emerged from his room to help out. He took one of the bags from Molly, nearly dropping the heavy sack as she let go.

The climbers scampered into the bay thankful for the grav plates, which altered the downward direction their bodies felt. Molly joined Walter and Cat in bringing them refreshments, nobody commenting on the blood stains on their boots and knees, the marks from their climb through a stairwell littered with the day-old remains of their crewmates.

“Are you sure we need another run?” Molly asked. She felt like doing anything she could to spare them another taxing ordeal, physically as well as emotionally.

One of the Navy men nodded as he sipped from his thermos. Behind him, Scottie leaned back against a bulkhead, taking deep breaths. Molly glanced out at the system of ropes rigged up across the decking beyond. Because of the grav plates and the thrusters holding them in place, it looked like she could just stroll out and walk along them. She had to remember the way the Firehawks had fallen the other day to appreciate the forces at play beyond her own decking.

The climbers rested for almost an hour before setting off again. Cat volunteered to spell Scottie or Ryn, but neither would hear of it. After they disappeared down the ropes, Walter made himself scarce as usual, and Molly and Cat returned to their boring duties as radio sentries and gossipers.

As before, they picked up sporadic chatter from the ships overhead, but nothing that seemed important. It wasn’t long before Cat and Parsona resumed the argument they’d been in the middle of before the climbers had returned and interrupted them:

“I just don’t see how you can sympathize with the Bern,” Parsona said, not for the first time.

Molly looked to Cat and watched her shrug. The Callite turned to gaze out her porthole. “I didn’t say they can do no wrong. All I’m suggesting is that the Underground might be the rebellious upstarts, and the Bern maybe got a right to try and quash them.”

“Now it’s them, huh? What happened to us?”

Cat waved her hand. “What’s it matter in the long run? Can you really think in absolutes like this? It’s like —”

Molly smiled and fed some of her protein bar to the Wadi as Cat struggled for the right word.

“It’s like what?” Parsona asked.

“Aw, hell. I was gonna say it’s like you can think like a computer, or something, but it wouldn’t have come out right.”

Parsona and Molly both laughed.

“I don’t mean to be obstinate,” Cat said. “I guess I’ve just thought on these things so long that I’m pretty sure there ain’t an answer.”

“Wait a second you two.” Molly leaned forward and turned up the ship’s radio.

“Affirmative, group designation four. Maintaining coordinates relative to—”

“It’s nothing,” Cat said.

“Yeah, it’s just that voice. I swear it reminds me of someone—”

“—approximate vectors. Edison out.”

“Flank me,” Molly whispered.

“No,” Parsona said. “It can’t be.”

“You two wanna fill me in?”

“Can we can transmit?” Molly asked.

“Yeah,” her mom said. “We’re riding the same frequency in order to listen in. I’m patching it together right now. But you don’t really think—?”

“I don’t know.” Molly shook her head and reached for the mic. She thought for a moment, then squeezed the transmit button. “Hello? Does anybody read me?”

The radio popped, and then a voice announced: “Carrier frequency compromised. All groups switch to secondary.”

A round of “copies,” followed, and then the radio fell silent.

“Well that sucks vacuum,” Cat said.

“Give me a second,” Parsona told them.

They waited.

“Try again. I think I have it, but there isn’t any chatter right now.”

Molly bit her lip and thought about what to say. “My transmission is scrambled too, right?” she asked her mom.

“Yes, but if the entire fleet is using this carrier wave, they’ll all hear you. Keep that in mind.”

Molly keyed the mic. “Mechanical bear, this is the Wadi queen, over.”

The same voice from before responded immediately: “Frequency compromised. Switch to tertiary.”

“Copy.”

“Negative,” a gruffer voice said. A familiar voice. “Break, break. Fifth group is maintaining secondary carrier frequency.”

Silence. Then a different voice. Higher. Softer. Still familiar.

“Molly? Is that you?”

Molly swallowed and blinked back tears.

“Anlyn?”

The trepid male voice returned: “This is group command, switch to tertiary frequency immediately.”

“Command, this is group five,” Anlyn said. “That’s your commander’s daughter. Please hold.”

“Anlyn,” Molly said into the mic. “Are you in that fleet up there? Can we talk? What are the Drenards doing with the Bern? How did you—What’s going on?”

“These aren’t Drenards, Molly. We—it’s complicated. We’re with some people from hyperspace. We control three ships up here—hold on a sec.”

Molly stared at the dash, waiting. She could hear her own heartbeat.

“Sorry, Edison had to say something on the other radio. We have command of three of the ships up here. There’s a few hundred people scattered between them.”

“What? Like refugees?”

“No. Warriors. They have a plan to close the rift but weren’t expecting the fleet to just be hanging out here. None of the Bern ships seem to be moving on, and we can’t act until they do.”

“They’ve been like that for weeks, just holding formation and shooting down anything that moves.” Molly let go of the transmit button, then squeezed it again. “About this Underground… are they from Lok? Do you have—? Is—?”