by Hugh Howey
“Cole?”
••••
He offered her a hand while pressing a finger to his lips. Molly reached out and grabbed his arm, squeezing it and fighting the urge to pull herself into him.
She looked back at Riggs, and at her empty cell. Somehow they’d gone from prisoners to captors. Her brain reeled as she attempted to rearrange her tactics.
“What’s going on?” she asked him, halfway heeding his gesture of silence by keeping her voice at a whisper.
Cole knelt beside her and glanced at Riggs, making sure he was okay. “We’re getting out of here. Let’s lift him up.”
They each grabbed one arm and hauled Riggs to his feet. As Riggs pulled his legs underneath him, Molly noticed the laces of his black Navy boots had been tied together. He could walk, but running would be hazardous.
“Is he helping us?” Molly asked. The disgusted and angry look on Riggs’s face hadn’t wavered from his visit the day before.
“Yeah,” Cole whispered, “but not because he wants to. We need to get off this hall, and then we can talk about it.”
Molly looked over her shoulder, back toward the guard station beyond a distant partition. Black security camera warts lined the ceiling, but Cole didn’t seem concerned about them. After they passed through a series of open gates, Cole reached back into a pocket and withdrew a small shiny device. It looked like a Navy-issue communicator.
“Seal the hall,” he said, and the gates behind them slid shut. Cole straightened as they did so and several lines of worry disappeared from his forehead. Molly watched this with interest, frowning at the creases that remained.
“Can we talk now?” she whispered.
“Yeah, but we need to keep walking.” He indicated a direction through the wide engineering space. “This way.”
Molly helped pull Riggs along, glancing over her shoulder to assure herself that they weren’t being pursued. “How’d you get out?”
“Walter.”
“What? That little bastard—”
“Forget it. I thought the same thing when they questioned me and I heard what he was doing. I should’ve known when they said he needed to spill his guts on a computer. The sneaky little—”
“Oh, gods,” Molly groaned. “They let him on a computer. I’m so stupid. I was ready to kill him—I felt like a fool for trusting him again.”
Cole laughed at this. “We probably are fools for trusting him.”
“How’d he do it?” Molly knew it wasn’t important; they could go over the story later, but her curiosity gnawed at her.
“He’s got access to almost everything. My old buddy Riggs here came by my cell to gloat earlier this evening. He was jawing at me through the bars when they receded into the floor. I had no idea it was coming, I just wrestled him down and tied him up with his own laces. Meanwhile, Walter started hissing at me through his radio, giving me instructions and guiding me with the cameras.” Cole looked up at one of the warts for emphasis.
“He opened a supply closet for me, got me these duds, guided me to you.” Cole pointed to an open lift, and they led Riggs inside. The light shone brighter in the small space; Molly could see Riggs’s nostrils flaring as he fought to breathe through his nose.
“How does Walter plan on getting us out of here?”
Cole laughed and shook his head. “He doesn’t. He got me out, and I’ve been planning the rest. Hell, I’m not sure he woulda busted me out had he known how good a wrestler you are.”
Cole flipped open the communicator again. “Down, please.” The doors closed, and the lift vibrated into motion. He let Riggs lean against the far wall and turned to Molly. “Every guard between us and the cargo bay has been routed off-duty. Walter scheduled Riggs’s Firehawk for a fleet patrol. He and I are gonna tow you and Parsona out of the hangar bay.”
“Just like that?”
Cole smiled. “Just like that. You know, they pulled me off pilot training and taught me comms and navigation. It was supposed to be a demotion. You wanna know the truth?”
The elevator beeped its arrival and the doors hissed open, allowing the rhetorical question to float out into the vast hangar bay. Cole pushed Riggs ahead of them and winked at Molly.
“The person scheduling the guards is the one with real power.”
33
Molly could see Parsona’s profile standing above the sleeker Firehawks. She, Cole, and Riggs angled in the ship’s direction, walking down the wide landing strip at the center of the hangar. The vast cavern bulged with metal shapes, but no crewmen. It appeared they’d be strolling out of here as casually as they liked.
Something about that filled Molly with unease. She had grown accustomed to nothing coming easily or without great cost. This felt like one of those gifts she’d pay dearly for later.
Riggs tried to make things interesting once by pulling away from Cole and stumbling for a few steps. His laces, however, made large strides impossible, and Cole caught up to him quickly, preventing Riggs from hurting himself in a fall to the metal decking.
“Stop that!” he told Riggs in a tone that suggested several earlier attempts.
Molly hurried to resume her spot by one of his arms. A dozen steps further, Cole led them close to a Firehawk. Molly looked up and saw Riggs’s name stenciled below the cockpit as the captain of the ship. “Marcelli” was listed as the navigator.
Walter sat on the decking by the Firehawk—leaning over a portable computer. Wires trailed from his screen up to an access hatch on the side of the ship. He beamed when he saw her.
“Molly!” He stood and ran over, throwing his small arms around her waist. She patted his back and thanked him—quite a departure from what she’d previously been planning if she ever saw him again.
He smiled up at her. “Almosst ready,” he hissed.
“Did you disable the Firehawk’s weapons systems?” Cole asked, indicating the wires tethering his computer to the craft.
Walter sneered. “Among other thingss,” the boy said cryptically.
Cole shrugged. “Great. How long before we can go?”
“Almosst ready,” he repeated.
“I’m gonna need help getting Riggs in the cockpit,” Cole told Molly. Riggs shook his head at this and tried yelling inside of his own mouth, his cheeks puffing out.
“What’re we gonna do with him? Why not leave him here?”
“Two reasons: I really don’t wanna add Firehawk theft to my rapidly expanding criminal resume, so he’ll be needed to fly the thing back. And, unless you want to locate his auth chip and cut it out of him, we’re gonna need his full presence in the Firehawk to tow Parsona out. Hold him for a sec.”
Molly held Riggs’s arm. Her old friend’s eyes locked onto hers and flashed with raw malice. Cole grabbed a nearby boarding platform and rolled the steps over to line up with the cockpit.
“You don’t think Walter could bypass the auth code?” Molly asked.
“I didn’t ask. Okay, here’s the plan: once we get clear of the fleet, you’ll power up Parsona. By the time she shows up on the Navy’s SADAR, it’ll be too late. We’ll jump both ships to a rendezvous point where I’ll shut the Firehawk down, pop the cockpit, and push off to you. You pick me up, and we’ll jump out of there long before Riggs can reboot the ship or the Navy can trace the exit point of our jump signature. Easy as pie.”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t like it,” she said, as she helped pull Riggs up to the cockpit. He tried to kick off the steps, so Cole reached down and grabbed the knot of his shoestrings, pulling both of his feet up. Molly held up half of him with both arms, and they literally carried him up the steps.
“What don’t you like? We need the Firehawk’s signature on SADAR to get out of here, and we need Riggs’s auth code to get the signature.” They pushed Riggs down in the navigator’s seat and Cole fastened his harness, locking him in place. Riggs wiggled, testing them, and blew out his cheeks. Molly pulled Cole down the steps.
“I don’t like bringing h
im along. I know what you’re doing, and I love that about you, but Riggs is not going to come around, especially not bound and gagged. He’s not our friend anymore, Cole. I mean, he thinks I’m working with the Drenards, for galaxy’s sake. Walter can easily—”
Cole pulled her further down the steps. “Technically, you are a Drenard.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, and you know I need to try. I just need some more time with him.”
“I get that, that’s fine, but all this vacuum transfer nonsense—it just feels too risky.” Molly glanced up at the cockpit. “Why don’t we just meet at Lok? It’s only a few jumps from here—”
“That’s even riskier,” Cole said. “The Navy will have two signatures to follow and more motivation to catch us. Plus, do you really want Riggs knowing where we go and what we do there?”
“Isn’t that the reason you want him along?”
Cole shook his head. “Gods, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being selfish; maybe I just want him to not hate us.”
“Hey, if you need to do this for you, that’s an even more compelling argument. Just say so. But no cowboy transfers in the vacuum. Let’s meet on Lok and stagger our jump coordinates, give the Navy two trails to sniff. If we both double back at least once, or they’re slow to mobilize, they’ll never find us.”
Cole sighed. “Okay. The only logistical problem left is coordinating the tow without the fleet picking up our transmission over the radios. I haven’t quite sorted out how we’re gonna time that.”
Molly smiled. “Let’s go change into our flightsuits. I have just the thing.”
••••
“Can you hear me?” Molly thought.
“Loud and clear,” came Cole’s words, but in Molly’s voice. “The helmet makes the band ride down to my ears, though.”
“Same here. What we need to do is sew these things into the liners. It’d be stellar to not have to thumb the mic to talk in the cockpit.”
“Or worry that Walter’s listening in,” Cole added.
“Then again, it might not be too nebular to have Cole hearing everything,” Molly thought to herself.
“Like what?”
“Huh?… That, uh, was a joke, silly. Um, my thrusters are warm if you wanna pull in the lock.”
“Roger.”
Molly watched the Firehawk rise off the hangar deck and fly down the center lane. She lifted up Parsona and pulled into his wash, following him toward the massive airlock at the end of the bay. During major engagements, the entire deck would be depressurized, pilots and navigators using the dozens of personnel locks to enter the StarCarrier’s vacuum, allowing rapid take-offs and landings. For maintenance and patrol, the entire bay was kept pressurized to allow support personnel to work freely and without helmets.
With a little maneuvering, both ships fit in the airlock with room to spare.
Molly didn’t have a prisoner to watch, so cable-duty fell to her. She typed a caution to her mother in the nav computer, moved the Wadi from her lap to the back of her seat, and gave Walter a pat on the shoulder.
“Don’t touch anything,” she told him for the third time.
He smiled through his visor and turned in the nav seat to watch her go. Molly grabbed the commercial nanotube towline and stomped down the cargo ramp.
Outside, she snapped one end to the eyebolt under Parsona’s nose. The cockpit glass was too far above for her to check in on Walter, filling her with paranoia that he might be fiddling with instruments on the dash, or discovering her mother. She had to force herself to not rush the job.
Double-checking the connection on her ship, she made sure the release mechanism wasn’t stuck, then pulled the line to the back of Riggs’s Firehawk, careful of the hot metal around the thrusters. She secured the other end of the line to a tow bolt outside the jet wash’s cone of influence.
“All set,” she thought to Cole.
“Great. Make sure you shut everything down—”
“I know.”
“And after we disconnect the tow line, let me pull away before you jump out—”
“I know the plan, Cole.”
“Come up to the nose for a sec.”
Molly walked quickly to the front of the Firehawk, ducking under the stubby wings. She was surprised to see the hatch open, Cole’s visor up.
“Problem?” she asked.
“No, I just felt like saying goodbye so you hear it in my voice.”
“I appreciate you being romantic, but we don’t have much—”
“I love you.”
Molly snapped her visor closed and popped her helmet off. She brushed her hair back off her forehead and looked up at him.
“I love you, too. And stop worrying, this is gonna go smooth as milk.” She watched the lines of worry in Cole’s forehead deepen. “I’ll see you on Lok,” she said. “Walter’s in your seat, and he’ll have my back.”
Cole laughed. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” He smiled down at her. “All right, see you in a bit.”
With that, he snapped his head forward, throwing the visor of his helmet down without touching it. Molly laughed at the hotshot maneuver and watched the cockpit glass slide forward and seal tight. She ducked under the fuselage and looked up at Riggs, but only the side of his helmet was visible. She ran back to Parsona, pulling her own helmet back on.
Inside, she settled into her seat and nodded at Walter, giving him the okay to depressurize the airlock. He punched commands into his computer, and the atmosphere within the chamber became visible as it was sucked into the large side vents, condensing into moisture as the pressure changed.
Molly watched the thrusters ahead of her fire up, the Firehawk humming to life. She had to fight the urge to do the same with Parsona. It felt unnatural to watch the airlock empty of atmosphere while keeping her ship powered down.
As soon as the air had been completely evacuated, she gave Walter another thumbs-up. For Cole’s benefit, she tried to keep her surface thoughts to a minimum; she didn’t want to distract him while he sweet-talked the patrol watch.
In her own head, meanwhile, she could hear Cole read off Riggs’s authorization numbers, sensing them on the surface of his mind as he spoke them, and then feeling the tension as he waited for the guard to acknowledge.
Beside the hangar bay’s red atmosphere light, the integrity light went from green to red. The doors opened a crack, then slid apart and revealed the star field beyond. Cole eased forward, pulling the slack out of the towline. Parsona lurched, the landing gear scraped on the deck, then Cole angled up and brought both ships high in the lock before they exited into clear space.
As the two ships pulled out of the massive StarCarrier, the only eyes looking their way were electronic ones. Their signature on SADAR would appear a little larger than normal, but communications officers aren’t taught to fear anything leaving the belly of their own ship, which meant the duo didn’t merit a second glace. And besides, the ship ID blinking over the blip would perfectly match the newly revised patrol roster. Screen-watchers no doubt would sip their cold coffee and continue swapping lewd jokes and lewder lies.
It would be another hour before anyone was scheduled to check the hangar bay or deliver breakfast to the detention cells.
Should be more than enough time.
••••
“Okay, we’re well outside the fleet perimeter,” Cole thought. “Any further and they’ll wonder what we’re patrolling.”
Molly laughed and glanced through the starboard porthole; the constellation of cruisers and destroyers flashed and twinkled like bright, nearby stars.
“This’ll do,” she agreed.
“What’ss sso funny?” Walter asked her. “I wanna wear a red band.”
“They aren’t toys, now keep it down so I can concentrate.”
Walter sank in the nav seat. “What a wasste, ssending one with him,” he grumbled.
Molly ignored Walter and reached for the tow release. “Disen
gaging,” she thought, as she pulled the handle. The taut cable ahead of her wavered with the release of tension, and they were free, drifting with their forward momentum. Cole pulled the Firehawk far enough away to not throw her jump off with its small bit of gravity.
“Ladies first,” he thought.
She smiled, but there were better reasons for her to jump before he did. It wouldn’t look great if his ship ID disappeared from the fleet’s SADAR, leaving hers exposed. Plus, if he jumped from the same general area, it might confuse both of their hyperspace signatures, confounding, or at least confusing, the pursuit efforts.
Her hyperdrive had been spinning up ever since they left the carrier. Molly brought the rest of Parsona on-line, her ship’s identification moments from broadcasting to the fleet. She watched the nav screen, just waiting for the jump coordinates to register, her finger hovering over the hyperdrive switch.
“Be careful,” she thought.
“You, too,” Cole replied.
The ship came on-line. Half a second later, the nav indicator flashed green.
“I wanna pussh it!” Walter yelled.
But it was too late. The stars had already shifted.
••••
Cole watched his SADAR display intently. Parsona’s ship ID flashed for a brief moment, then winked away.
Success.
His own hyperdrive was already spinning up; he checked the coordinates on his nav display one final time.
The radio on the dash cracked to life: “Flight three-two-seven, this is the Cruiser Denali. Riggs, we just had a glitch on our SADAR. Picked up a ship ID near you guys. Can you do us a favor and sweep that area? We might need to do a quick calibration with you.”
Riggs writhed against his restraints and shouted into his cheeks, desperate to signal his allies.
Cole saw an opportunity to delay the pursuit. “Roger, Denali, we have an anomaly out here; we’re gonna check it out for the science boys. Be right back.”
After a pause, the radio cackled with more questions as Cole lifted the cover on the jump button. But something came through his consciousness besides the radio: Molly’s words slicing through his own thoughts.