A scuffling sound behind her interrupted her meditation. She turned to find a Palan boy smaller than herself standing outside the bars. “Food and water,” he said, holding something out to her.
Molly approached the gate cautiously, looking into the silver eyes of a boy her own age, maybe younger. His coppery hair was trimmed back short, his clothes baggy, but not stylishly so. More like hand-me-downs he’d been forced to wear.
“Thank you.” She reached through the bars and took the two metal tins. One sloshed with a yellowish fluid, the other rattled with large brown pebbles of what she assumed, by the process of elimination, must be food.
The boy turned to go.
“Wait!” she said. “What’s your name?”
He turned back to her and smiled. “Walter,” he said.
“Hi, Walter. I’m Molly.”
“I know. Molly Fyde. I heard. And don’t worry, the trial will be very quick.”
“Quick? How quick?”
“Today,” he said. And Molly couldn’t tell if it was a smile now, or a sneer. The boy returned to his cart and was about to move on.
“I have lots of money,” she lied.
Walter turned and approached the bars. “Palan people can ssmell a lie,” he informed her. “Even the day before the rainss we can ssmell a lie. You have nothing.”
“I have a ship.”
Walter sniffed. “Maybe you had a sship. But my uncle hass it now. One day I will have it.” He turned to go; Molly pressed on.
“Only if your uncle is still in power long enough. Look, let’s barter, okay? I can’t give you the ship, but I can get you a reward for getting me out of here. Help me and my friend escape, and I’ll take you off this planet to more money than you can dream of.”
“Leave Palan?” He snorted. “Why would I want to go? What iss there for me beyond Palan?” It was definitely a sneer.
“Whatever you want. No more working for your uncle. The Navy’ll reward you for helping us. Richly.” There was a ripple across his metallic-looking visage. He looked Molly up and down, and she suddenly became aware of the way her soaked shirt clung to her chest and wondered whether the boy would be more likely to help her or hurt her.
“I’m the daughter of an Admiral in the Earth Navy,” she told him. “You could have more riches than your uncle ever dreamed of. I promise.” Even if the boy betrayed her to his uncles, this information might make her freedom worth bartering for. Lucin would be outraged at how this had turned out, but Molly didn’t see any other path to take. Besides, she wouldn’t be in this mess if Navy personnel had cooperated.
Walter sniffed the air, his nose creeping up toward the rock ceiling. “You do not lie. Interesssting.”
Molly tried to think of more to say as Walter pushed his cart of food and water cans further down the aisle of cells. Over the rattling of the tins and the noise of metal wheels scraping on rock, she could hear the strange boy mumbling to himself in a different language, one devoid of anything that hissed—like the sounds of flooding water.
Hours went by on the stone ledge. Molly’s stomach grumbled louder at the Palan jail food than it had when she was starving. Several hunks of the meal were still in the tin, but the precious calories—if indeed the chalky stuff had any—didn’t seem worth the foul taste.
The can of yellowish water, still half-full, sat beside the food. For a planet renowned for its fresh rain, this stuff must have required quite a bit of preparation.
The colors outside her window dulled with the rising sun, and still no word from her jailers. The one time she worked up enough courage to call for Cole, it returned nothing but jeers from some distant prisoners. The waiting and the unknown took turns torturing her.
It was past mid-day when she heard the squeaking of Walter’s cart heading her way. He had never returned from the other direction, and now he came as before. Molly figured there were multiple ways up, or a second hallway around. None of this info likely mattered, but the tactical training would likely remain with her forever. She’d been soaking in it ever since she was born.
“Food and water.” It was the same greeting. Molly got up, felt a little weak and dizzy, and clung to the bars. It was the same fare.
“Walter, I need some clean water. Some different food.”
“No. I’m ssorry.” He shook his head sadly. “Your trial iss not going very well. They will not wasste food on someone who may be guilty.”
“My trial is underway now!?” Molly felt like she was going to be sick.
“Yeah. There iss not much defensse. You have killed more people at your age than my uncle had. It iss the only thing they like about you.”
“Have you thought about my offer? Surely you don’t want to be an errand-boy for your uncles, do you? Think about the freedoms you could have off this planet. There’ll be a reward, I promise.” Molly considered the items she could barter with, then added: “We could be friends.”
This elicited a smile; he sniffed and nodded. “Ssome of that iss true. Hard to ssay which.” He rubbed his hand back and forth over the stubble on his head, peering at the ground.
“Yeah, I thought about your offer, and I could get you out, but not the boy. They have him passt my cart and my key. He isss down where there iss only one room. And, anyway, hiss trial iss already over. He’ll be dead by morning.”
Walter may as well have reached through the bars and punched Molly in the gut. She sank to her knees, her hands gripping the bars for support. By morning?! This had to be a nightmare. A stupid bad dream. She’d had these silly fantasies of traveling across the stars and doing odd jobs and being with Cole forever. She went into this like it was a vacation instead of a serious mission, and at every step things had gone horribly wrong.
She started to cry, her hands still up on the bars, her back moving up and down with her quiet sobs as precious fluids rolled down her cheeks. She could sense Walter kneeling down across from her.
“Don’t cry,” he told her, touching his own face, his eyes narrowing. “I’ll help you out. We’ll esscape tonight, okay? Forget about the boy.”
Molly pulled up the hem of her ruined T-shirt, still moist from her last horror and clinging to her chest; she wiped away snot and tears.
“Forget about the boy,” Walter said again. There was a clanging of a gate down the hallway. He stood quickly and hissed a final “Tonight” before turning to go.
But Molly could only think about the morning.
There was no chance of sleeping as night fell, and no dinner had been served. Molly cried as much as her body was able and felt sore and cold from the effort. The breeze reaching through the cell chilled her to the bone, even after wringing most of the wetness from her shirt.
There was no telling when or if Walter might try and spring her, but she’d been thinking of as many crazy ideas as she could to keep her mind off it. Some of these plans relied on her jailers coming in and making mistakes. Some assumed Walter would be bringing weapons. Some pretended her hand-to-hand courses in the Navy had somehow worked miracles.
One of them toyed with the laws of physics.
This mixture of day-dreaming and waking nightmare made the hours feel like days. She had no idea what time it was when she noted the soft padding of bare feet followed by Walter whispering her name.
She grabbed her boots, tied together by their laces, and draped them over her neck; she slid silently to the door. Walter was fiddling with a can of oil and a key. “The hingess,” he said quietly, passing her the bottle after he worked some into the lock.