Molly Fyde and the Parsona Rescue (The Bern Saga #1)

Molly Fyde and the Parsona Rescue (The Bern Saga #1) Page 10

“No, Lucin’s aide, in Saunders’s office. This operation’s being run by the Academy. Anyway, the guys in the Naval Office tell me it’s no big deal, private interests and personal matters, is what they say. But it doesn’t matter ’cause the Naval secretary couldn’t confirm me. Said I wasn’t in the system.”

Cole and Molly glanced at each other, eyes wide. “What do you mean, you weren’t in the system?” Cole asked.

“What I just said, man! They were patient with me at first, I mean . . . I must’ve seemed real sincere, you know? Because I was being sincere. I am being sincere. I told ’em I was working for a Rear Admiral, on special assignment, scan my prints and see. So they do the retinal scan and the palm prints and they get nothing. I didn’t believe them so they let me see the screen. Nothing, man. I don’t exist. Now they’re looking at me like I’m crazy, so I get the hell out of there.

“Navy people have been following me around ever since. Probably have Palan’s only spy satellite devoted to me, right? That doesn’t sound crazy, does it? I mean, how do you explain all this?”

That’s when it dawned on Molly: this was their chaperone. This paranoid wreck was supposed to be looking after them. Instead they were being talked to like adults and having to cajole him along like a younger brother. Their safety net had been pulled away. Molly took a side step toward Cole and reached a hand into his arm, finding her comfort place. But all of Palan was pressing in around her, the smell getting stronger, the heat rising. Their ride off this planet had been hijacked and their official contact was completely useless.

Cole must have been thinking some of the same thoughts. “Okay, the first thing we need to do is go to the Navy Office ourselves. I have my credentials with me, and Molly should be in the system as well. We’ll get them to loan us some Marines, we’ll go clear out the Parsona, and then we’ll get out of here.”

A wild look of agitation shivered across Drummond’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Molly said, raising her hand, palm down, “We’re gonna take you with us.”

“Our cover is busted,” Cole added, “so the pirate gangs will realize they’re dealing with Navy. That means we’ll have to get out quick. If they realize the bounty came from Naval personnel, with no bartering at all, they may think they have something priceless. We’ll never see that ship again.”

He looked to Drummond. “We’re gonna need you to round some stuff up so we can make a quick escape. Tell me which systems you checked out on the ship and what condition she’s in.”

“Yes, of course. I can help. Oh, thank gods you guys are here. You have credentials, which is good—”

“The ship’s condition, Drummond.”

“Yeah, sorry. She looks great on the outside, I mean for an older ship. No big dents, could use some paint. A few micro-meteor burns, but what ship doesn’t, right? Um, the inside is a bit rough, but the important bits seemed shiny. And uh, diagnostics didn’t turn up anything, but I did a quick scan, you know? Before I was interrupted.”

“Okay.” Cole turned to Molly. “Are you fine with this? We go to the Navy, show them the ownership papers, storm in with Marines and all that? It’s your call.”

“No. I mean, yeah, Cole, that sounds like the best course.” She was glad he was here, that someone was making decisions. There were times when she flashed back to the Tchung scenario and felt like she was the one playing dead while he took the helm. If they could keep doing this for each other, taking control when the other was out, everything should be all right. As long as both of them were never out of commission at once, or separated, this hiccup might not turn out to be a big deal after all.

9

Picking her way across the sad mounds of prostrate bodies, Molly found herself looking forward to the lesser stench that awaited them outside. Her left foot came down between two forms and slid a little on something wet. She regained her balance, but nearly dropped her black duffle.

“And why didn’t we leave the bags in the room?” she hissed back at Cole, who lagged behind this time. The lobby had become more crowded; it favored small feet rather than long legs.

“Did you see that place? If Drummond didn’t run off with our stuff, one of the rodents would have. Besides, if all goes well we’ll be sleeping in the ship tonight. I don’t care if it doesn’t have overnight bunks, I’ll spread out on the diamond plate steel in the engine room and work on my cute snore there.”

Molly nearly retched as she passed through a small pocket of foulness that stood above the rest. It smelled like death. Like the time a bat got trapped in the ceiling above the cadet dormitory and died. It smelled like that, but times a hundred.

“Some of these people might be dead,” she whispered above the moans and shuffling of those who clearly weren’t. Yet.

“Not funny.”

“I’m serious. Who would check them for a pulse, and how often? Look at all the luggage and bundles scattered between them. Some of it looks like it hasn’t been disturbed in ages.” She considered this.

“Hey, that gives me an idea.” She veered to the side, picking her way toward one of the lobby walls. “This way,” she called back to Cole.

••••

He swerved to follow and one of his large boots pinched an arm. He pulled his weight off that foot, collapsing forward as the limb sucked in like a startled snake. No yelp. No complaint. Cole turned back, leaning down to apologize. . .

“Ssorry.” It was barely a whisper, a mere hiss leaking out of the prone, bundled form.

Cole teetered on the edge of apologizing back, confused. Then it occurred to him that the lobby guest may actually consider the fault theirs. They weren’t leaving enough of a clear path for the room’s intended purpose. Inconsiderately spread out. Unconscionably too comfortable.

He rose, shaking his head as he carefully picked his way to Molly; she’d come to a halt in a small pocket of floor space along the far wall of the lobby.

“We’re leaving our bags here.” She stooped to nestle her duffle between two other mounds. Cole watched, bemused, while she rounded up a few bits of trash and sprinkled them on top, as if garnishing a meal.

“Uh, why?” His backpack didn’t budge.

“’Cause my bag is heavy, for one thing,” she told him. “I’m sick of carrying it. And also, ’cause there’s a slight chance crazy boy upstairs isn’t all that crazy. I can’t see Lucin trusting my life with a deranged lunatic. Which means he either ate some bad fruit here, a possibility I rank pretty high, or the Navy is up to something, an idea you’ve been lodging ever deeper into my head.

“So, we leave the bags here, a spot where you could hide a dead body in plain sight. We’ll grab them on our way back to collect Drummond and his supplies. Trust me, nobody’s gonna touch something that people here are sleeping beside.”

“Great plan. For your bag.” Cole gave her a grin and hitched his pack further up his shoulder in protest.

“I’m serious. If you have anything important in there, it’ll be safer here. I’ve got my ID and a copy of the will and transfer papers, but everything else is staying, just in case.”

“And I’m taking my bag, just in case. Think of it as having our eggs in two baskets.”

“Whatever,” grunted Molly, leaving him behind again as she picked her way toward fresher air.

Cole made careful note of where she left her duffle and hurried after her.

••••

Outside, the slightest sense of a breeze brought a little relief. They hadn’t been on Palan for two hours and already Molly could see how a traveler could get used to pretty much anything. She wasn’t there yet, and probably wouldn’t be on such a short stay, but her imagination could piece together a sequence of events that led from disembarking the shuttle to sleeping on that lobby floor. She shivered at the thought, picturing how quickly it could happen, even to her. A simple series of bad decisions could lead to a life of prone depression in the Regal.

Cole hurried past her, waving at the first taxi in a line of four. Each was a small, completely enclosed vehicle balanced on three-wheels. The driver didn’t respond to Cole’s gestures. In fact, he appeared to be fast asleep.

The gutter between the sidewalk and the parked vehicles was too wide to step over and the small bridges arching across the gap were too eroded to trust. They looked more like sculptures than pathways, curves of cobblestones erected to protest gravity. Molly watched Cole vault over the gap and did the same, landing neatly as he turned to help her across.

“Thanks anyway,” she smiled.

Cole looked a little flushed. “No problem.”

Molly beat him to the taxi and rapped on the windshield. “Hello?” she called through the glass.

The driver slowly brought his head to a full vertical. No startle reflex, as if this happened to him dozens of times a day.

He cracked his door open. “Where to?” he asked.

“The Naval Offices. How much?” Drummond had insisted they get a price before entering a cab.

“Earth credits,” Cole added from behind her.

The driver lit up at this—almost literally. The metallic sheen of his face seemed to glow as though a dull light shone upon it. He looked past Molly. “Twenty,” he said.

Cole grasped her arm and gently pulled her away from the driver, heading back to the next taxi in line.

The driver opened his door wide. “Fifteen!” he yelled after them.

“C’mon,” Molly pleaded. The next driver was waking up from the ruckus and she didn’t want to waste time bartering them down few more bucks.

They turned back to the first cabbie, who held the door open as Molly slipped into the tiny rear seat. Cole squeezed in beside her. Their driver stepped to the back of the vehicle and Molly heard the sound of chains rattling. She tried to see if threats were being made between the two taxis, but it was too cramped to shift even slightly. The driver returned in a flash, muttering to himself and rocking the car as he pulled the door shut.

“Firsst time on Palan?” he asked as he pulled out into the light, yet frantic, traffic.

Molly looked up to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, but there wasn’t one there. In fact, there weren’t any safety devices or indicators anywhere in the buggy. It was just a smooth shell perched on thin wheels, two narrow benches comprising the seating arrangements. The driver took up most of the front one and Molly and Cole were pressed together in the back.

There weren’t even any windows to roll down, just solid carboglass on the sides. As bad as the smell of Palan was, Molly longed for a breeze.

“First time,” confirmed Cole.

“Firsst day?”

“First day,” parroted Molly, giving Cole a smile.

“Where you gonna watch the rainss?” The driver asked, looking up at the sky through the windshield as if they were due to begin at any moment. Distracted, he almost ran into another rolling egg. He leaned on the horn and yelled through the window at the other driver, obviously not concerned with the answer, just making small-talk.

Something triggered in Molly’s memory at the mention of the rains. Something she’d learned in an old Planetary Astralogy course in Junior Academy. And then the filling lobby started to make sense, the wide gutters, the locals setting up their market in the shuttle concourse. It occurred to her why this rickety taxi seemed to have only gotten one thing right: being watertight.

Even some of the Palan smells started to register in her olfactory nerves as various types of mildew and mold and rot.

The driver performed a post-yell grumble routine in his own language, gripping the steering wheel with residual anger. Molly tilted her head toward Cole’s to explain what she could remember about the torrential downpours and regular floods.

Cole absorbed the PA lesson, his eyes flashing a hint of memory as well. “Drummond, you fool,” he muttered. “We’re gonna have to be quick in the Naval Office to get back to the Regal in time.”

Molly nodded. She leaned forward and interrupted the angry grumbling. “How far away are we?”

“One more than five minutess,” answered the driver.

Molly settled back in her seat, wondering if that was their way of saying “six.” Such an odd place, Palan. Outside the glass she saw two silver-faced people wrestling with a package. It looked like things might get violent. As they passed, she craned her neck to follow, but there wasn’t enough room to turn her shoulders.

She felt Cole twisting to survey the same scene. “Not much law here, huh?” he asked quietly.

“Too far from the war, I guess.” She looked straight ahead. “The fight with the Drenards means fewer security forces on the frontier. Lok was the same way when I was young. I think my dad took me away from that place ’cause of the violence. Crazy how the Drenards can affect us without being able to push the war beyond their arm of the Milky Way.” Molly laughed at herself. “Listen to me. A few months exposure to opinion reporting at Avalon, and I don’t talk tactics anymore, I just moan about the toll the war is taking on innocent civilians.”

Cole grunted. “No one mentions it at the Academy, but everyone must see it when they look at the charts. We can’t win this bloody war. The Drenards have an entire arm of our spiral galaxy well-defended. They never push the fight into our space, and we seem hell-bent on breaking through. It’s become an imaginary wall in space that we throw money and lives at.”

“Well, don’t get me wrong,” Molly said, “I want to beat the snot out of them just like the rest of the galaxy. What they did at Turin—what my father and Lucin fought through—that was the worst sort of crime. Unforgivable. But the way the stars are laid out in this galaxy, with those damn spiraling arms, there’s just too much empty space to stretch supply lines across, even with hyperdrives. It’s like Major Clarke taught us in Philo-History, how the Revolutionary War was immoral, ’cause independence was assured by the Atlantic.”