“Lock up?” The Callite by the workbench waved a power shunt through the air. “But then we can’t leave!”
“Good point, Ryn.” Scottie studied Molly, grinning. “Be odd of you to lock us up inside here, wouldn’t it?”
“Inside? I—no, you guys need to get out! My father isn’t—”
“Here? Yeah, you said. Tell you what, we’ll just wait for him to get back.” Scottie walked aft through the cargo bay. “You go on to town and we’ll keep an eye on things here.” He poked his head into the engine room, then turned and smiled at the silent oaf in Edison’s chair. “Check it out, Urg.”
Molly moved to intervene as the large Callite rose and stomped across the cargo bay. It was as futile as trying to wave down a StarCarrier.
“Listen—” she said. But nobody was.
The large Callite disappeared into the engine room while Scottie moved aft, peering inside each crew quarter.
“Hey, you guys really can’t—”
Scottie slapped his hand by Molly’s door. “I call this one!” he told his friends. He looked at Molly. “Smells nice,” he added, bouncing his eyebrows suggestively.
Molly wanted a gun. Plasma, laser, mechanical, she didn’t care. She wasn’t sure if anything would stop the two big fellows, but she really wanted to try. She turned and looked at the security cam in the corner of the bay and saw it twitching to follow the action.
Molly frowned at the camera. She backed slowly toward the cockpit as the two Callites jostled with each other, both trying to squeeze into Cole’s room at once.
The cockpit door shut itself as soon as she stepped inside. Molly locked it, pulled up the cargo cam, and the Wadi jumped from the back of the captain’s seat to her shoulders. She flicked on the radio.
“You know these guys?” she asked her mom.
“Never seen them before in my lives. Either of them.”
“Either? Oh, you mean your lives. So are they’re lying? What should I do?”
“It could be your father knew them when I was on Dakura. What you should do is go find the local law. Or Cat.”
“You think the law’s a good idea? What if they check the ship’s name?”
“That won’t be a problem. The local government hates the Navy as much as you distrust them. Besides, the Navy has a minimal presence here. Your father and I were sent undercover just as much to avoid bureaucratic wrangling over jurisdiction as anything else.”
Molly leaned over the dash and looked through the carboglass toward the stable offices. She could see Pete standing by the door. He seemed to be squinting through the dust in their general direction.
“Okay, I’m gonna go for help. Can you lock the doors to the crew quarters?”
“No, but that’d be something nice for us to hook up.”
“Yeah, let’s make that a priority. I’ll lock the cockpit from the outside. Keep an eye on things.”
“That’s all I can do,” her mother said.
Molly nudged the Wadi to its favorite spot behind her neck and keyed opened the door. She snuck out, locked the door with her captain’s codes, and then hurried toward the cargo ramp.
The mute oaf stuck his head out Cole’s door and saw her leaving. “Hey,” he said, proving to be not quite as mute as she had thought. He pointed at her, obviously trying to think of something else to say, while Molly jogged down the boarding ramp. She weaved through the stables, around and under the parked ships, and headed toward Pete. Hopefully he could help.
Before she got close enough to ask, however, he called out across the dusty lot, his hands cupped around his mouth: “Scottie and his boys find you okay?”
“What?” Molly asked. “It’s not okay they found me! Did you tell them where I was?”
“Hell, I called right after you checked in. Them boys been looking for your father for some time.”
“He’s not with me!” The Wadi scampered down the back of her shirt with the outburst, sticking its head in one of the baggy pockets on Molly’s cargo shorts.
“That’s right! You told me that didn’t you?” Pete smiled at her and pulled his hand out of his coveralls. He had a toothpick sticking out of his fist, the exposed half dark purple. He put it in his mouth and used his tongue to slide it to the other side.
“I want them off my ship,” Molly told him.
“Well, now, you’ll have to talk to them about that.” Pete leaned to the side and somehow spit a stream of dark juice past the toothpick. A long trail of the stuff hung from his lower lip, thick as molasses. He reached up and swiped it away with his palm, then rubbed it on his coveralls.
Molly looked at the stains covering him and wondered just how much of Pete’s coloration was actual grease. If any.
“I tried to tell them to go,” she complained. “But they wouldn’t listen.”
“Could be they think it’s their ship,” Pete said flatly.
“What? Their ship? That was my father’s ship and now it’s mine!” Molly looked down at the Wadi as it tried to curl itself into her pocket. Its tail swished in the air, then disappeared.
“Well, now.” Pete spit again, dribbling it right down the front of his coveralls. The maneuver seemed to save him a step or two. “What I heard was your daddy owes Scottie some money. You never know with interest compoundin’—they might have a claim on her.” He nodded toward Parsona. “Besides, why’d your daddy give such a fine ship away? How old are you?”
“Where’s the sheriff’s office?” Molly asked, ignoring the questions and cursing herself for allowing a tangle of lies to develop.
“Directly on Main,” Pete drawled.
Molly turned and headed off in the direction of town.
“But he’s gonna tell you just what I said,” Pete hollered after her.
Molly followed the busiest road into town. She preferred the thick plumes of dust from the traffic and the catcalls from the vehicles’ occupants to the unknown of quiet streets. Especially with so much dangerous politicking in the air.
Most of the cars on Lok were large-tired buggies suitable for travelling between towns with no interconnecting roads. They passed by in one of two speeds: slow—the people trying to sneak away from the trouble they’d just caused; and fast—the ones about to effect their own.
Ignoring offers for rides and things less-pleasant, Molly kicked at rocks along the shoulder and fumed over the idea of those brigands being on her ship and likely going through her things. The Wadi rode along across the back of her neck, its tiny claws gripping her shirt and a little flesh, its head lolling with her gait. Grumbling to herself, Molly walked past rows and rows of politicians smiling down from their posters and banners, all of them promising her something for just a few drops of blood.
She stopped at the outdoor counter of the first cantina she came to and bought water for herself and the Wadi. She chose her left pinky for the vote, even though it was swollen to the point of uselessness. Her new strategy was to sacrifice one digit completely so she could heal up the rest.
After paying, her Wadi curled across her forearm, leaning sideways with its back against her chest. Molly dripped water into its mouth, then took some for herself. Walking like that caused her to flash back to planet Drenard and that hot, arid, and dusty hike they’d taken together. The comparison of that horror-filled day to her current annoyance lifted her spirits somewhat. As long as she didn’t look up at the fleet in orbit, she could pretend things weren’t quite as bad as they could be.