Her voice drifted off, as she remembered that decision and everything she had left behind in the last few weeks.
“I can see how there would be comfort in that.” Paige was gently bobbing her head, Molly’s sadness echoing in her eyes.
Molly blew out a breath. “Yup. Until you end up back in the real world again, having to fight the good fight without as much as safety net.” Molly smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little.
Paige cooperated with the change of mood, and subject. “So, what’s next?” she asked as Molly took a sip of her beer.
Molly eyed Neechie, wondering if she wanted to reach across the table. That cat was an equal opportunity pleasure seeker. “Next, we await a call to take possession of the new ship. Then our boys will check it over, and if it’s fit for flight, we start making arrangements to get off-world as fast as possible. In the meantime, we’re going to find something on that pod that will get Dewitt off our backs, once and for all…”
Paige raised her bottle in solidarity, and Molly leaned forward and clinked with her.
Molly smiled. “And if we’re really good, we’re going to be able to take apart a little of the system of corruption, leaving the Inner System just a bit better for those who are currently at the mercy of this kind of fuckery.”
“I’ll drink to that,” agreed Paige, drinking down half the beer in one swallow.
* * *
During one of the very short moments that Oz dropped the jamming, Molly received the message through her holo that the ship was ready for handover. The message had the hangar and port numbers.
“I mean, I really like him, but I don’t know if I want to disappear off-world with him forever. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Paige had only had two beers by now, but something told Molly that her metabolism wasn’t built for holding her drinks.
Molly squinted to read the details in her holo. “Looks like the ship is ready. I need to get down there. Someone needs to sign for the supplies that should be arriving to coincide with the hand over, and I’m not sure the current owners are going to be handling that for us.”
Paige looked disappointed that girl time was over.
Oz, could you send the details over to Joel and get him in touch with the pilot and the engineer to meet us down there? Also, I could do with their photos and names, so at least I know who we’ve hired.
“Want some company?” Paige asked.
“Sure.” Molly could sense she didn’t want to be alone with Garet right now. Plus, she’s probably keen to check out this bad boy machine that is going to get us off-world.
I’m sure. Message sent to Joel’s holo.
Are you sulking, Oz? Molly asked.
Yes, I believe I am.
Well, fuck you.
Molly, feeling even shittier, downed her current bottle of beer and snatched her jacket off the back of one of the empty chairs. Storming out of the kitchen, she didn’t pause to freshen up or check herself in the mirror.
Are you sure you want to go out with your blood alcohol so high?
You’re driving.
Molly approached the car, Paige still trotting after her through the hallway, bottle in hand.
Molly heard something move in the bushes just off to her right, and then felt a sharp pain on her head.
Everything went black.
* * *
Henry looked pleased as punch, wielding his baseball bat and standing over the girl’s limp body.
Erik was already grabbing her ankles when a second girl appeared from the house and froze, stunned at the scene in front of her. Erik lunged for the baseball bat, which he grabbed out of Henry’s hands.
“Hey, biatch… that’s my ba—”
Erik thwacked the second girl on the head, and watched her crumble into a heap over the first one.
Erik handed the bat back to the protesting Henry and started dragging the top girl over the gravel to the car that was parked on the street.
“Wanna give me a hand? Or do you just want to watch and then call it in to the boss?” Eric sneered sarcastically at Henry, the events of the last several hours still seething in his veins.
Henry, taking the hint, put the bat down, and helped him carry the bodies into the vehicle.
Once both prisoners were secured, Henry tootled back to his bat. Holding it like a doll, he practically skipped back to the car and got in on the passenger side, as if everything were fine and dandy.
Erik’s face relaxed and went back to its regular witless look, before he started the engine and pulled off onto the strato highway.
Inside, Garet continued working with the data, piecing together contracts that seemed to be leading to a money trail. If he could track the money, then he would have corroborating proof of what was going on.
He thought about shouting to the girls, but then, figuring they would want to know the result rather than the breakthrough, decided to get some more work done before he shared it with them.
Chapter 17
Safe house, fifty kilometers west of Uptarlung
Twenty minutes later, Joel arrived back at the safe house. The car was still in the driveway, which meant Molly would be around. He braced himself. He wasn’t ready for everything to just be okay with them right now. Not yet.
He had calmed down enough to want food, though.
He keyed in the door code and slipped into the house, wandering through the rooms to find signs of life. Finding Garet in his room, he asked where the girls were.
“No idea. Last I saw, they were in the kitchen finishing off the stock of beer.”
“That figures,” smiled Joel, taking his atmojacket off. Molly would be suffering tomorrow, if not already. She never could hold her drinks, even when they had had intensive squad training. She seemed to operate well though, even when she was blitzed.
Heading into the kitchen, he was surprised to find evidence of intense drinking in the form of many empty beer bottles on the table, but no sign of life. Unless you counted Neechie, who emerged from the back of the room and rubbed up against his legs in a “hello, please feed me” maneuver.
“All right, buddy. You know which side your bread is buttered on, don’t you?” Chatting to the sphinx, he opened the fridge and pulled out food for him.
He arranged food in Neechie’s little dish, and plopped it down on the ground. The sphinx looked up at him and meowed.
“What’s up, pal?” he asked.
The sphinx just tilted his head and meowed again.
“You trying to tell me something?” Joel probed, only half aware that he looked crazy talking to a sphinx. Neechie walked past him and hopped up on the nearest chair, and then onto the table. Joel watched him. The sphinx walked amongst the empty beer bottles, and meowed again. Then he stopped and looked at Joel.
“You trying to tell me that Molly was here? I know she was. What’s up with you?” He stepped towards the sphinx and tickled him behind his head. “Do you just miss her when she’s not here?” he asked.
Picking him up gently, he gave him a cuddle before placing him down on the floor again. “Me too, buddy. Me too.”
Grabbing a soft drink from the fridge, he eased into a kitchen chair and checked again at his downloaded messages. Both guys had accepted their offer, and were ready to meet up tonight. Joel figured he’d need to disable the signal jammer to send the messages. He could do that, if it was just for a few seconds. He composed the message from the details Oz had provided, and fired them off, pausing the jamming signal for a few moments.
He had another message from Oz, about taking receipt of some supplies. It was a detail for the two new guys in case they got there before Molly.
Oz suggested they check the number of packages was correct, the ID tags lined up, and then have them loaded up onto the bird so that the new gear and supplies were at least secure.
Joel tutted at the message; now he knew exactly where the money had come from to be able to buy a
ll those supplies, as well as the ship. He forwarded the details, as Oz had requested, and let the guys know that Molly would probably already be there by the time they arrived.
He took a deep breath, and released a little more of the pent-up tension that last message had built up in his system. He knew he’d get past this. Eventually. But right now, he should probably get working on the rest of the plan.
If they had the ship, they should start deploying the rest of their scheme to separate Dewitt from his resources. He called out to Garet to come and work in the kitchen, and started tidying up beer bottles to give them some space.
It was going to be a long night.
Spaceport, Hangar 08771A, Outskirts of Uptarlung
The Sark had already disappeared under the horizon, leaving the atmosphere cold, dusty and inky black. Condensation had already started forming in the cracks of the silicon-based tarmac.
Crash looked up at the hangar number, to his holo, then back up at the number.
08771A.
He was in the right place. There had been movement around some of the other hangars as he’d driven down the towpath to arrive here, but now, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
He idly scuffed his boot heel along the ground, waiting for Molly or the other guy to show.
Crash wondered who this mechanic was that was going to have his life in his hands for this next mission. He’d flown with many crews over the years; some competent, some nothing more than cowboys in jumpsuits. But one thing he knew was that a good relationship between the wrench monkey and the fairy could mean the difference between life and death for them all.
He hoped to hell that this Dunham guy knew what he was doing in the selection process. He paused for a moment, suddenly wondering whether it was a good sign that he had been selected for the fairy job, or not.
There were footsteps behind him.
Turning around, he saw a man’s figure come into the light. His breath caught in his throat as he realized who it was.
“Long time, soldier.” The man called out to him.
The smile. He’d never forget that smile.
“How the devil…” Crash lost his words, as he took a few steps towards the man in the metallic blue atmosuit. He was just as confident and vibrant as Crash remembered him.
Until things had gone bad, that was.
Crash held his hand out for a proper greeting, but the man opened his arms, as if all the treachery of their last meeting had evaporated. Relieved, Crash hugged him, grinning from ear to ear.
“You realize you’re too good looking to be flying whatever shit is in that hangar?” he asked him.
Crash ignored the question. “Brock Lysta, as I live and breathe. I take it you’re my new monkey?”
“You got that right. I’m your monkey, your bitch, and you better be my goddamn eagle in the fucking sky if we gonna make this work.” Brock’s eyes were bright and clear, dancing with wisdom far older than his years would have permitted.
Crash slowly released his old friend from his embrace, and stepped back to look at him.
“Man, I’m so happy to see you. And you’re looking great!” His excitement bubbled up, and then he looked very serious. “You have no idea how sorry I am, the way things ended between us. I really…I just want you to know that.”
“It’s okay. We good. I cussed you, I told everyone that would listen what a dog you is, and then eventually, I got over it. But that isn’t a mistake I’m ever going to make again, you feel me?”
Crash nodded, well aware how lucky he was that Brock was making this a pleasant reunion.
“Well, beetch, what’s going on with our lady-queen? Where she at?” Brock looked around for Molly.
“Just got here. I’m guessing we’re in the right place…”
Brock checked the hangar number, and nodded.
“How ‘bout you tell me how you been? Been tooooo long.” Brock’s melodic dialect was like music.
Just as it had always been.
Crash felt his spirits lift as Brock stood there shooting the breeze. This was one assignment he was glad to have accepted. No matter what happened on that ship, he knew he was in the right place now.
Unknown location
Molly came to. Her head really hurt and she felt sick.
Hangover, was her first thought. She tried to sit up, and felt stuck. Then she became aware that her wrists were bound.
“Owwwww,” she complained, wondering where the fuck Oz was when she needed orienting.
Gradually, the room came into focus. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen before. It had high vaulted ceilings and plush rugs over the wooden flooring. The furniture in the room was like something out of a history file, and there were wallpaper and paintings on the walls.
Is this some kind of museum? She wondered, trying to put the pieces together.
Scanning around the part of the room she could see, she stopped when she noticed that Paige was completely bound, just across the way from her, lying on one of the antique couches.
She looked distressed. Tears had dried down her face and she was gagged, but trying to make sounds now she saw that Molly was awake.
Just outside the tall doors there was a man, Ogg-kind, in a dark gray atmosuit. She couldn’t see his face because he had his back to the door, as if he were guarding it. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.
She became aware of the dull pain on the side of her skull, and realized she had been hit and kidnapped. She pulled and wriggled to get out of her bonds, but all it did was hurt her ankles and wrists more.
It was only then that she became aware of a presence behind her. Someone was dragging something in her direction. A table appeared next to her. And then a gentleman, a blue Estarian, came into her view. His suit was stylish, and he smelled of expensive aftershave.
Her money was on him being Dewitt himself.
“Greetings of the day to you!” he exclaimed when he was done arranging the table. “I trust you’re comfortable?”
Molly tried to cuss at him through her gag, but he was too caught up in himself to be affected. He disappeared behind her again, out of her line of sight, and then reappeared, putting a saucer onto the table next to her.
Molly looked at it and then back at Paige.
“Who the fuck are you?” She tried to speak through her gag.
The man shook his head as if he didn’t understand, and untied the gag, letting it fall into her lap.
“Say that again, please?” he asked nicely.
“Who the fuck are you?” she asked again, anger seething through her teeth.
“Why, I’m Mr. Dewitt, of course. You should know that, since you have a download of all my files that you stole earlier today. And you are?”
He looked down at her, sneer and sarcasm dripping from his thin pale lips.
“Molly,” she answered, still seething.
“Ahhhhh, Meddling Molly! Tell me, Molly, do you make a habit of interfering in things that don’t concern you?”
Molly remained stoic, but glared at him as if she were trying to fry his brain with her eyes.
“You know, meddling only ever gets people killed. You should know that by now…given all the meddling you’ve done over the years. Tell me, how are your parents doing since you nearly got them assassinated?”
Molly looked over at Paige, the whites of whose eyes were now showing. Scrambling for the words to respond, she was overwhelmed with questions. How did this asshole know who she was? And how could he know about her parents? No one knew that. There weren’t any records. Someone had seen to that. She’d checked.
“Molly, I know all about you; about your little stint in the military after nearly getting your parents killed. Such a cliché, if you ask me. You should have just stayed in the military and kept your head down, instead of coming out into the real world and making my life more difficult.”
“Well, if you know anythi
ng about me, you’ll know exactly why I can’t do that,” Molly scoffed.
“The Syndicate are not even the same people who came after your parents.” Dewitt looked slightly exasperated, but his tone was still patronizing.
Molly ground out. “Different faces, but you’re all the same, and you all need stopping. No one was around to dismantle whatever was going on when those men came after my parents. But I’m around now. And I’m going to stop you all.”
Dewitt wandered over to his briefcase, which was lying open on a couch near the one Paige was tied up on.
He glanced back at her, indicating towards her bound hands and feet. “Doesn’t look likely from where you are right now.”
He turned back and reached into the briefcase and pulled out a little pink disc. Wandering back to the table next to Molly, he placed it on the saucer.
“Molly, Molly, Molly,” his tone was laced with condescension. “You and I don’t need to speak. I know your story, and honestly, I’m bored. I need you to be quiet. Permanently. I want to speak to Paige, though.”
Molly protested. “Paige just got all caught up in something she doesn’t understand. Let her go, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Dewitt was wandering back to his briefcase again.
“You’re not the one who stole information off my private server. Paige is the one who has been giving people access to my personal data. Paige is the one who can answer my questions.”
Molly felt sick, and she knew it was only part hangover. If she’d taken Paige away that first night in the bar, they’d both be safe now. Dewitt was right. They were in trouble. They were going to die because she had aspirations of being like Bethany Anne, making the world a better place. But that wasn’t really why she was drawn to it. No. It was because being like Bethany Anne, taking on that identity, was her childish way of avoiding the pain of being an outcast, and the emptiness of being nothing special, of being broken.
Her Bethany Anne obsession had been a band-aid; a fix for an identity wound that still hadn’t healed.
“Leave her alone. Please.” Molly begged. She didn’t have tears for what was going on, but her stomach was turned inside out with anxiety.
The Ascension Myth Box Set Page 16
