by Hugh Howey
“Because he hasn’t had sixteen years; he’s had half a year. And he isn’t the only person that would be interested. Besides, if he’d already accomplished what we aim to prevent, we would know.”
“Gods, Mom. What in the galaxy could you know that’s so important?” Besides how to speak Drenard, she thought to herself.
“It’s difficult to say how much my old self has put together in that brain of hers. It took years for your father and I to realize that all the pieces were there, and stewing. And for all that time, there was nothing we could do about it. You have to believe me, destroying that old body of mine is more important than rescuing your father. And it’s best if you start thinking of that shell as a jar and me as your mother. Neither is easy, I know.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” Molly said. “And I still don’t understand what you could know that’s so important.”
“When your father and I were on Lok, there was a popular game show from Earth that was all the rage—”
“Pick That Door,” Molly said.
“That’s right! You’ve seen it?”
“Re-runs on flat panels, not the holovids. And just once or twice—I really hated that show.”
“Yes, well, so did everyone else, but we all watched it. Do you remember the gist of it?”
“Yeah. It was dumb. There were two doors. One had a vacation package to a distant planet and the other had something dangerous from the same planet, like a wild animal or a noxious gas. They described each in detail and the contestant chose to open a door or just go away with nothing.”
“That’s about right. And actually, you make it sound more interesting than it was.”
“What’s your point?”
“Well, dear, that’s what I know. I know which door to open.”
“For a game show?!” Molly nearly tore her helmet off in disgust.
“No, sweetheart. Of course not. For real.”
“Real doors?”
“Oh, yes. And there are terrible things behind one of those doors. Things that other people, some of them in our own Navy, are dying to let out. I know where one of those doors is, and so does… my former self. She also might know what fusion fuel is made of, which could lead to problems.”
“I can’t believe either is more important to you than rescuing Dad.”
“If we don’t do this first,” Parsona said, “the hell your father’s living in will be the only safe place in the universe. Sweetheart, if we fail—there’ll be nowhere to rescue him to.”
••••
Molly wasn’t sure what to make of the plan. She half-expected to arrive at Dakura and discover she’d been played a fool the entire time. Cole’s doubts about her mother’s artificial existence gnawed at her. She tucked her helmet under her arm and went to speak with him, but as she entered the cargo bay, she saw Walter and the Wadi, and froze.
“What are you doing?” she cried, rushing toward them. Walter had a red band around his head and he was attempting to fit another one around the Wadi’s. “Where’d you get those?”
Walter looked up at her with an innocent expression. “I’m trying to talk to the Wadi,” he explained.
“And where did you get those?” she asked again.
Walter looked at the ribbon in his hand, as if he needed to confirm what she was talking about. “During the fight in the sshuttle. Finderss keepersss.” Walter touched the one around his head. “Thiss one iss mine.”
Molly reached down to pick up the Wadi. It leapt to her arms before she got all the way there, wrapping itself around the back of her neck.
Its tongue flicked out twice. Once in Walter’s direction and once to touch Molly’s cheek.
Walter pouted at the loss.
“I’m going to need to keep those.” Molly indicated the band in his hand and the one on his head.
“They’re mine,” he insisted. His metallic-colored face flushed with a dull glow.
“And they can stay yours, but I’m going to keep them in the cockpit, okay? They’re too important to play with like toys.”
Walter looked devastated. “I’m the ssupply officser,” he said.
“And I’m the captain,” she reminded him, her hand out.
Walter took the band off his head and placed them both in her palm. “It wassn’t working, anyway,” he said, consoling himself.
Molly wrapped her fingers around the bands and marched to the cockpit.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on the cargo cam for me,” she said to Cole as soon as she entered.
“No problem—” Cole spun in his seat. “Wait. You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you? But he’s been right there this whole time—” he stopped and stared at the red bands in her hand. “Where’d you get those?”
“Walter stole them. He was playing dress-up with the Wadi.”
Cole gestured at the security screen on the dash. “Like I could tell that from this.” His eyes narrowed. “Can your mom hear us fighting?”
“Probably not. Not with the mic turned off.” Molly placed her helmet on its rack, and the Wadi moved to the back of her seat. She climbed over the control console and slumped into her chair. “Hyperspace on ice,” she murmured, looking down at the bands.
“What’s the big deal? He is a born pirate, you know.”
“Yeah, no… gods, I don’t know.” Molly dropped the bands and rubbed her face. She tested her theory: “Mom?”
There was no response.
“Do you need to talk?” Cole asked.
Molly turned to him. His thick, perfectly shaped eyebrows formed twin arcs of concern over his green eyes. Molly reached over and squeezed his arm. “Mom told me why we have to go to Dakura.”
“Something about her memories, right?”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t want them back.”
“What, then?”
“She wants them erased. Permanently.”
Cole looked out the carboglass at the stars while Molly told him what she’d learned, what little of it made sense to her. The only thing she left out was her mom’s mention of fusion fuel, and maybe knowing what it was made of.
It didn’t seem important at the time.
Part IX – Heaven
“Happiness can come solely from within, but not for long.”
~The Bern Seer~
23
The stars shifted as Parsona jumped into Dakura, and a dark, gray sphere popped into view amid the smattering of stars. Molly reached forward and flipped on the radio to let her mom know they’d arrived.
“That’s Dakura?” Cole asked. “Not much to look at.”
It was Parsona that answered. “It will be,” she said. “Eventually. It used to be a frozen wasteland, much like Mars.”
“Well, it still looks that way to me,” Molly said, thrusting off toward the planet’s largest moon.
“What color is it?” Parsona asked.
“A darkish gray. Why? What color should it be?”
“When your father and I were here sixteen years ago, it was a dull red—the color of rust.”
“Looks like it’s just getting worse, if you ask me,” said Cole.
“It’s a long process. That gray dusting will trap heat over a long period of time, thawing the crust and releasing the water inside. It will take thousands of years.”
“Makes sense,” Molly thought aloud, “for a guy dedicated to immortality to plan something like this. I bet he got a great deal on the planet.”
“Someone owns that planet?” Cole asked.
Molly looked over. “I thought I mentioned that.”
“Who are you guysss talking to?”
Molly and Cole spun in their seats to see Walter standing behind their chairs. The Wadi’s tongue flicked out into the air.
“Flight control,” Cole lied. “Getting permission to land, buddy.”
“Starship Parsona, you’re cleared for landing pad four,” Parsona said through the radio speaker. Molly smiled at Cole, who bit his lip to keep from laughing
.
Before Walter could respond, another voice—heavy with static—crackled through the same speaker. “GN-290, ship ID Parsona, this is Dakura flight control, come in.”
“Who’ss that?” Walter asked, pointing to the dash.
“Uh, that’s Customs. We’ll have to clear in with them, now.”
“Why did he call himsself ‘Flight Control’?”
“Hey, Walter, I don’t question the way you organize the cargo bays, do I?”
“No.”
“Okay, man, you just have to trust that Molly and I know what we’re doing.”
“Yeah, but you guyss keep getting uss in trouble,” Walter said, pouting.
Molly laughed out loud at this and switched the radio over to her helmet. “Dakura Flight Control, Parsona here, looking for clearance. Over.”
“Roger, Parsona, you’re cleared for landing pad two. And welcome back.”
Molly looked to Cole to see if he was listening in, but he and Walter were busy arguing about something.
“Strap in for the landing, boys.”
Walter huffed and looked down at his flightsuit, brushing his hands across it as if to remove some dust. He marched back to his seat, gurgling in Palan.
••••
Only one other ship sat on the moon’s landing pads as they descended to the surface. “Looks like we have the place to ourselves,” Cole said.
Molly nodded and followed the beacon for Pad Two. Once she had a visual—the large number etched into the paved surface—she decreased the thrusters and brought her altimeter to zero. The shocks in the landing gear took out what little jarring there was, making the arrival so smooth, it felt like they weren’t there yet.
“Nice landing,” Cole said. “We did land, didn’t we?”
Molly beamed. “Yeah, and this moon is massive. A lot of gravity here, but no atmosphere, so keep your helmet on.”
Molly reached to unbuckle her harness when the entire ship trembled slightly. She put both hands out in confusion, preparing to steady herself against more tremors.
“Nebular,” Cole said, lifting his visor up and peering through the porthole on his side of the cockpit.
Molly looked out her side and saw the surface of the moon sliding up to block out the stars. “A lift?” she asked.
“Yeah, and we don’t have this place to ourselves at all.”
Below the artificial surface of the moon lay a lit parking facility. It stretched further than they could see, filled to bursting with a wide variety of gleaming hulls, some of them being tended to with long, robotic arms.
“Whoa. That’s a Viking 500 over there.”
Molly unstrapped herself and leaned over Cole to see. Walter ran in to investigate the clamor, nearly climbing over their backs to get a better view.
“That’s a pricey ship,” Cole pointed out.
“I wanna sssee!”
Molly scooted over and patted her armrest. “Get up here,” she said. He jumped up at once and the Wadi leapt from the back of Molly’s chair over to Cole’s.
“There’s no people,” Molly said.
She longed to ask her mother some more questions, but not with Walter around. It was imperative they hide her mother’s existence from the people on Dakura, and she trusted Walter with a secret as much as she trusted him with a computer. As Parsona had reiterated earlier: she was stolen contraband, an unauthorized copy snuck off the planet. If they found her, she’d be deleted, and they’d all be in a ton of trouble.
Molly didn’t like the situation, but felt relieved to have a warning. At least I know what to avoid doing here, she thought.
Meanwhile, Cole and Walter went nuts over spaceship designs. While they took turns pointing out which paint jobs were the flashiest, Molly imagined what Parsona must look like to all these other ships; her outdated hull was streaked with micro-burns from space debris; the paint job was original and boring, covered in drab, stenciled lettering. Reflexively, she reached out and rubbed her hand across the dash, as if her mother could feel the comforting touch.
As Parsona sank down to the level of the other ships, Molly braced for a jarring halt, but the lift continued to lower them through the floor of the parking garage. Beside her, the boys moaned over how quickly the show had come to a close. She actually felt relieved to have the gaudy things out of her sight. Better to not compare, she figured.
They descended into a hangar the same size as the landing pad. Molly looked up through the carboglass window in the top of the cockpit and watched the ceiling come together, sealing them inside.
“Stop squirming,” she told Walter. He was practically bouncing around on her lap as he tried to take it all in.
“Ssitting in the cargo bay ssucksss,” he spat. “It’ss nebular in the cockpit.”
Molly saw him look down at Cole’s seat, almost as if he longed to own it.
From above, a dull thud sounded out as the doors slammed shut. Atmosphere hissed into the sealed room from vents along the wall, the condensation billowing out like steam. The same male voice cracked through the radio and told them to wait five minutes for pressurization.
“Expensive setup they have here,” Cole said, leaning forward and gazing up at the large chamber.
“I’m sure immortality doesn’t come cheaply.”
“Yeah. Hey, I thought you always said your parents were poor, from a frontier planet and all that.”
“They were. Trust me, I’m as confused as you are.” She shot the radio speaker a look, reveling in the situation her mother was in thanks to Walter’s presence: forced to sit and listen and not say anything in return.
Her mom’s instructions had been vague, mostly because even she didn’t know what their options were. The first step would be to pay her other self a visit and see what she knew. They also needed to find out if anyone else had come to see Parsona in the last half year. And finally, if there was any legal way for a surviving family member to take her body off-line, they would do that. But the last was not something Molly wanted to consider. It would remain a nasty contingency in case all else failed.
“Let me out,” Molly told Walter. “I’m gonna go get changed.”
“Me, too!” he yelled, jumping off her lap and dashing back through the cargo bay.
“What in hyperspace are we gonna do with him?” Molly asked, watching him tear through the ship.
Cole shrugged. “My vote a long time ago was to airlock him. But more immediately, what are we gonna do with the lizard while we’re here?”
“She’ll stay in my room. And she’s a Wadi, not a lizard.” Molly looked down at her flightsuit. “And at least she doesn’t leave footprints on me the way Walter does.”
Cole laughed. “Yeah, she just tried to claw your face off.”
Molly touched the small bandage on her cheek. “She did not! That was a different lizard.”
“So that one was a lizard, eh?” Cole unstrapped himself and worked his way out of his seat, laughing.
“Yeah,” Molly pouted. “The boys are lizards, the girls are Wadis.”
Cole’s laughter got louder as he disappeared into the cargo bay.
Molly and the Wadi stared at one another.
They understood the difference.
••••
By the time Molly came out with a clean outfit on—a nice blouse and a pair of pants she’d picked up in Darrin—Cole was already waiting in the cargo bay. Walter stood nearby, playing his video game. Above them, both the atmosphere and pressure lights flashed green, signaling it was safe to lower the ramp.
“You wanna pop the hatch?” Molly asked Walter, trying to break his attention away from his computer.
“Pretty good wirelesss ssignal here,” he murmured.
“Do not hack the network here, Walter,” Cole said. “Now put the computer away.”
Walter sighed, but holstered the device. They waited on him to lower the ramp, a job he insisted belonged to the supply officer, since, as he put it: “That’ss where the car
go comess in.”
He made a great show of lifting the protective glass shield over the release button before pressing it. Molly swore she heard him making missile-launching noises as he activated the door. It was all she could do to not crack a smile.
As the captain, she exited the ship first, her soft shoes giving her a bounce and gripping the loading ramp in a way her flight boots couldn’t. It felt great to be arriving someplace where they were welcome, and at a stop they’d actually planned. The novelty of things going so well took her mind off the difficult task they were there to accomplish.
She stepped away from the ship and looked around at the hangar bay. It was basically a cube, about two hundred meters to a side. The floor had been painted a neutral shade of tan, a color that also went up the walls about to eye level before a light blue hue took over, which expanded upward to cover the ceiling. It seemed designed to make landlubbers feel at home.
On the far wall, two double doors stood, large enough to drive a loading truck through. Molly faced them, expecting the entry to pop open, when a smaller, almost invisible door set within them slid back instead.
An older man in a well-fitted suit strolled through the new opening. He had his hand out, a smile frozen on his face. Molly walked toward him and extended her arm in greeting. She was a dozen paces away before she realized he was an automaton, the sort of android that had been banned from most human planets.
“Greetings and welcome, I am Stanley, and I will be your host for the duration of your stay.” The voice was the same one from the radio. It sounded perfectly natural, but the lips didn’t move quite right. They flapped open and shut to mimic speech, but they clearly weren’t forming the words. Near the corners of the mouth, the rubbery coating substituting for flesh folded unnaturally, distracting Molly.
She shook her head, trying to remember what the robot had just said. “Hello. Uh—I’m Molly Fyde, and, uh, this is my navigator, Cole Mendonça, and my supply officer, Walter Hommul.” Cole came forward to shake hands as well. Walter waved from a distance, his video game already sneaking out of its holster.
“And this is Parsona?” the robot asked, gesturing toward the ship behind them.