Another bump in the road was accompanied by the splash of a puddle and the rough canvas itching her nose. Her world reeked of mildew and rattled with an alien language. Unlike the English that Palans hissed through their teeth at off-worlders, their native tongue popped and gurgled inside their mouths. It would have been a pleasant sound, if Molly wasn’t so worried about what they were saying.
The vehicle came to a sudden stop, sending her head forward into something hard. The gurgling huffs that ensued were filed away in Molly’s mind as laughter. The doors popped open and one of the men hauled her out roughly. More mirth spread as she tripped on the jam and fell to her knees. Her reward for amusing them was another slap to the back of her head.
Molly concentrated beyond their grunts of pleasure, attempting to gauge her surroundings. A strong wind howled nearby even though she felt but the slightest breeze against her damp shirt. There was a steady musical tone resonating from the wind. It sounded like a child puffing air across the lip of a bottle. She also heard water rushing to get someplace—but before she could deduce any more, she was dragged into a building.
“Downstairss,” someone commanded.
There was the clink and rattle of keys and the heavy groaning of tired hinges. A voice told Molly to watch her step as she was led down uneven treads. The darkness inside the hood became even blacker. Molly heard Cole call out her name.
“I’m here, Cole, I’m all right.”
Another smack to the back of her head. A more serious one. “Sshut it!”
Molly was practically carried by two strong arms on either side of her. She touched her feet down cautiously, waiting for them to drop her but wary of being tripped up. Their muscles, their strength against her, had the opposite effect Cole’s did. The part of her intent on surviving became worried again.
At the bottom of several twisting flights of stairs, they hauled her through what must have been half a dozen metal gates. She could hear the keys jangle and the hinges peal. The precaution seemed silly until Molly thought back to how many bodies she and Cole had already left in their wake. She wanted to feel awful for their deaths, but all she could sense was fear for her own safety. She dwelt on what she would tell her captors about last night’s events.
Hopefully it wouldn’t be as complicated as her nervous brain was making it. It seemed like everyone had gone mad with conspiracy theories, but there might be a simple and rational explanation for all of this. She had to remind herself: the galaxy was not out to get them. All they would have to do was explain who they were and what they were doing here. Maybe show them some paperwork. And then they’d hand over her ship.
She really wanted to believe this.
Another set of hinges sang out loudly, off-key. Molly was pulled to a halt, the hood roughly tugged off her head as they shoved her into a cell. Metal clanged behind her; somewhere in the distance she heard Cole yelling her name. The cry was cut off with an oomph.
Molly was alone. In a stone cubicle. A mesh of thick steel bars covered the side through which she’d been pushed. The opposite wall was solid rock with a square window cut out of it, spanned with two bars.
Beyond, she could see the far side of what appeared to be a massive canyon. The wind moaned as it tore across the small opening before her. She leaned close to the bars, focusing on a series of vertical streaks of white on the other canyon wall. They waved slightly, like strings hanging in a breeze. Waterfalls. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them plummeting into the void.
The window was too cramped to see to the bottom of the canyon, but she thought she could hear the rush of a river below. So this was one of the Palan canyons. The new context jarred more memories of the Palan rains. Facts memorized for a test percolated into her long-term memory. She could visualize the planet, its sole continent a high plateau carved with deep ruts. The water rushed across it from the rains and into an ocean more vast than her Pacific. Molly cursed herself for concentrating on star charts for this trip, neglecting to study any of the planets between. That oversight was costing her.
She gripped the bars and allowed the cool wind from the canyon to punish her shivering body. The steel was unnecessary, she realized. Unless her captors were simply trying to block an easy way out. How fitting: a world of notorious criminals and pirates had concocted a method of containment so simple, so effective, and so hopeless. They’d just carved it into the side of a canyon and provided prisoners with an open window through which they could chuck any hope of escape.
Molly sat down on the stone ledge carved out of one wall. She rested elbows on knees, then noticed the hole in the cell floor for the first time. Scurrying over to investigate, she wished she hadn’t. The hole was a funnel carved out of solid stone, leading down to an opening about a decimeter across. The mess caked on the edges marked its purpose clearly.
She recoiled away from the discovery and sat back on the rock cot. For just a moment, she was glad she’d had nothing to eat or drink in half a day.
There was a rattle at her door.
“Sstay back, prissoner.” A large Palan with hairy arms and a broad, metallic face worked the lock. As he opened the door, a smaller man stepped around him, his hands behind his back.
“Molly Fyde?” the thinner man asked.
“Yes!” she nearly leapt up to clasp the man, thrilled someone would know her, for whatever reason.
The Palan brought his hands in front of him; he was holding a stack of papers pressed flat on top of her leather reader case. Molly settled back down on the ledge, the excitement drained from her.
“A nursse?” He thumbed through the medical records, pages from Cole’s conspiracy file.
“What? No, no. Those were—it’s nothing. I’m just a student. I’m here for a ship called the Parsona. My father left it to me. It’s all in there.”
“Yesss. Much paper in here. Not all of it real, though.” He smiled up at her. “But at leasst your name iss real. Your reaction told me.” His smile broadened at his own cleverness. “Now, prissoner Fyde, why are you trying to rob me of my sship?”
“Your ship?” Anger welled up. “Who are you? The Navy paid you fair and square!”
She’d said too much; she saw it in his reaction, the way his head tilted to the side and his eyes widened.
“No matter, prisoner Fyde. You’ll not be tried for a theft you never got around to. Drummond’ss death and the messs you made on the avenue last night will be enough.” He sorted the paper back into the pouch.
“Enough for what? Who are you?”
“Enough for your death, prissoner Fyde; you will be tried in court. To ansswer your query: we are the Hommul. We are in charge of Palan Ssecurity now. The Ssmitthss…” her captor seethed with effort, “…are no more. And neither iss whatever deal you had with them.”
With that, he turned and left. The brute of a Palan standing in the hallway sealed her door with a loud clack. Both silvery men shuffled off in the direction she thought Cole had been taken.
A trial? From these guys? She couldn’t imagine what their concept of justice would be like. Certainly bribes had a lot to do with it—bribes and bartering seemed to rule the Palan economy—but Molly had no money. She knew Cole had some funds from the Navy, but surely the pirates would’ve taken that, along with everything else they owned.
Molly fought back the black cloud swirling inside her and recalled last night: how lucky she was just to be alive. She went to the window, pulled in large gulps of fresh air tinged with the scent of water and vegetation, and tried to remain positive.