Dark Side

by Jonathan Green

  She seemed much calmer now, their encounter with the Slayminator having ended in such a pleasing fashion – at least as far as Ulysses’ was concerned. After the adrenaline come-down following his encounter with the robot gladiator, he needed something to distract his weary mind from the traitorous suggestions his body was implanting inside his mind, now that his ability to fight temptation was at its weakest.

  “So,” he said, with forced enthusiasm. “Where were we, before we were so rudely interrupted by that berserker bot?”

  She sat there for a moment, nursing her glass of brandy, peering at Ulysses from beneath a tumble of platinum curls that now hung in disarray, giving her a somehow appealing, dishevelled look.

  “How many died, do you think?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry? When?”

  “At the arena. The robot. How many do you think it killed trying to get to us?”

  Ulysses broke eye contact, turning his gaze, instead, to the glass in his hands. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll tell you how many. Too many! And before that how many others?” Then the tears came again. “What am I going to do without my poor, dear Barty? He promised me that we would escape this place together.”

  The girl’s slight body was wracked by great silent sobs, salt water splashing her dress.

  Just like Barty, Ulysses thought, always trying to run away. Only trouble was, trouble always followed him because the one thing a man couldn’t run away from was himself.

  From beyond the door to the bathroom came the sound of a bath being run and the tuneful humming of the other girl.

  “Think not of how many have already died but think of how many more will die if the arch-manipulators behind this dark scheme – whatever that may be – are not stopped,” Ulysses said, putting down his glass and taking her hands in his. “Tell me everything you know, and I promise you that I will do all I can to bring Barty’s killer – or killers – to justice.”

  Selene sniffed loudly and Ulysses dipped a hand into a pocket, passing her a crumpled handkerchief.

  “What did Barty tell you about the three industrialists?”

  It seemed even more likely now to Ulysses that one of the mysterious trio of Shurin, Rossum and Bainbridge had had Barty killed. Perhaps all of them had been in on the plan, having found out, via their own agents no doubt, that Barty was spying on them. But that didn’t tell him who had had the three of them killed, or why. Had it been another of the operatives from the agency Barty had been working for, or was there someone else involved? Someone Ulysses had not yet run into?

  Selene took another swig of brandy, took a deep breath to compose herself, and then began. “He told me there were three of them. He didn’t tell me their names, just that I’d be amazed if I ever found out; that I wouldn’t believe him if he did tell me.”

  “Well I can tell you who they were,” Ulysses said. “Jared Shurin, owner and CEO of Syzygy Industries, Dominic Rossum, of Rossum’s Universal Robots, and Wilberforce Bainbridge, the air mill magnate.”

  Selene stared at him, her mouth agape in shock. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Then Barty was right, wasn’t he?”

  Selene rolled the cut-glass crystal between her palms, but said nothing.

  “Did he tell you anything about them? Such as why they might have attracted the interest of his employers?”

  “He said they were all working together on the same secret project.”

  “What project?”

  “I don’t know. Only that it had something to do with the dark side of the Moon.”

  “Damn!” Ulysses cursed. “It looks like the only way we’re going to be able to find out any more about this clandestine venture of theirs is if we break into one of their private offices and take a look inside their Babbage memory cores.” Ulysses was on his feet in seconds. “Right, Nimrod, I want you to do your thing and find me someone local with the ability to break into a centurion-level protected Babbage network. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” Nimrod groaned, struggling to get to his feet.

  “Or you could just talk to the fourth member of their little group,” Selene suggested.

  Ulysses turned to her, a startled look on his face. “Fourth man? What fourth man? There were only three files in Barty’s flat.”

  “There was another name that Barty did mention, once or twice. It stuck in my mind because I am sure I had heard it before.”

  “What was the name? Who is the fourth man, Selene?”

  “Jules Verne.”

  Ulysses’ face froze at the moment of surprise. Then his features softened and he couldn’t help but laugh, despite himself.

  “What is it? What is so funny? Do you know this man?”

  “Jules Verne?”

  “Yes. Jules Verne. You know him?”

  “Yes and you should too.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Only his name has another connotation here on the Moon.”

  “Please explain,” Selene pleaded.

  Ulysses relented, seeing how tired and emotionally wrung out she was. “You’re quite right, my dear. Jules Verne is the name of a famous French writer of scientific romances, tales of exploration and adventure, but he also happened to give his name to a crater located on the far side of the Moon.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “So, we have an alternative energy pioneer, with a hand in everything from cavorite production to spaceships – not to mention a brand new sunlight-powered cutting tool – a manufacturer of construction automatons, and an air mill magnate, all working together on something – some secret project or other – on the dark side of the Moon. Now what could that ‘something’ possibly be?”

  “It would seem to me,” Nimrod chipped in, “that that is the exact combination of industries you would need to build your own base on the Moon.”

  “Precisely what I was thinking. And on the dark side too, away from habitation, away from prying eyes. But for what purpose?”

  “And by whom, sir?”

  “Indeed. I doubt the three of them would have initiated such a plan. I suspect that there was a ‘fourth man’ involved, for want of a better phrase, somewhere along the line.

  “Right,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Well this changes everything.”

  “It does?” Selene said, staring at Ulysses in bewilderment.

  “Of course it does. We no longer need to break into a maximum security data vault to extract the information we need since we now know where we’re going – to the Jules Verne Crater.”

  “We?” Selene said.

  Ulysses grinned at her. “I mean Nimrod and me. You, my dear, are staying here. After all, we don’t want any other unpleasant accidents befalling you now, do we?”

  Ulysses turned to Nimrod.

  “Okay, change of plan,” he announced, a look of glee on his face. “All we have to do is get ourselves some lunar transport and take a trip to the dark side. Now where could we acquire something like that?”

  “I’ll get onto it right away, sir,” Nimrod said. He suddenly looked faint – his skin acquiring an unhealthy grey sheen – and sat down again quickly.

  “I think that can probably wait until the morning,” Ulysses said, obvious concern in the look he gave his old friend. “You’re not going anywhere other than to your bed.”

  Ulysses helped Nimrod to his feet, putting the butler’s arm across his shoulders and then guiding him with cautious steps to another of the white doors leading off from the living room.

  “I could help you with that, if you like.”

  Billie stood at the door to the bathroom, the towel of finest Egyptian cotton wrapped around her torso only just covering her breasts and buttocks.

  Ulysses felt his heart skip a beat again. He had never seen her looking so clean. And now that she was free of the grease and soot, her short cropped blonde hair a tousled damp mop, Ulysses could appreciate just how pretty she was.

  “I won’t argue with you there
,” Ulysses muttered under his breath, unable to help himself.

  Selene scowled at him, unimpressed.

  “Sorry?” the girl asked. “I didn’t catch that last bit.”

  “I said that would be most kind,” Ulysses said, blushing. “You know where we could acquire a lunar transport then?”

  “You could say that. I’ll have it here by morning. Will that do you?”

  Ulysses smiled broadly, his senses thrilling as she brushed past him. “That would be most helpful. You smell simply divine by the way.”

  Billie laughed – a sound like sunshine given voice. “I can do girly too, you know.”

  “Yes. Yes you can,” Ulysses mused, drinking in the heady aroma of shampoo and bubble bath. “And in that case, by way of a small thank you, we’ll give the hotel boutique a call and see if they can’t rustle you up something ‘girly’, shall we?”

  “That would be very good of you, sir,” Billie said. She wavered for a moment, and then, putting one hand on his shoulder, stretched up on tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Selene’s frown deepened.

  “Let me just get Nimrod into bed and then we can make all the necessary... er... arrangements.”

  With that, Ulysses pushed open the door to his manservant’s room and helped the still woozy Nimrod inside.

  There was a knock at the door to the suite.

  “Don’t worry.” Billie called, “I’ll get it.”

  She skipped over the silk-soft carpet, delighting at the sensation of it tickling the soles of her feet, and opened the door.

  “Oh, hello. You here for his nibs as well, are you?” Billie asked the woman standing at the threshold.

  “His nibs?” Emilia Oddfellow echoed, staring at the near naked girl in disbelief.

  “Come on in. He’s won’t be a minute. He’s just in the other room.”

  As if sleep-walking, Emilia took a few stumbling steps into the luxurious suite.

  “Bon soir.”

  Emilia turned on hearing the accented voice to see a second stick-thin young woman stretched out on the sofa in what appeared to be her undergarments.

  Emilia remained exactly where she was, not knowing where to look next for fear of what she might see.

  It was at that moment that Ulysses Quicksilver reappeared.

  “Right, shall we get started then? By the way, who was at the door?”

  He stopped abruptly as his wandering gaze answered his question for him.

  Emilia returned his horrified stare. “Ulysses?”

  “Emilia!” he said, surprised and delighted. But then, registering her expression of consternation, he looked around the room, taking in his two female companions, and suddenly saw things through Emilia’s eyes. He could feel his cheeks reddening again.

  “Ah, Emilia... Can I just start by saying that things aren’t as you are probably imagining them to be right about now?”

  “Ulysses Quicksilver!”

  “So,” he said weakly, “what brings you here?”

  An uncomfortable hush fell over the room.

  “What brings me here?” she snapped, her exclamation shattering the silence. “Why would I stop by your hotel room, you mean? Well, I’m beginning to wonder. I hear your brother was found dead twenty-four hours ago and then the next day you take yourself off, and I don’t hear anything from you. Perhaps I was worried about you. Did you think of that, did you? Perhaps I thought you might need someone to talk to, but it looks to me like you’ve got plenty of shoulders to cry on already.”

  “Look,” Ulysses said. “This is Miss... Selene,” he said nodding towards the waif on the couch, “and you’ve already met Billie. She’s –”

  “I don’t want to know what she is!” Ulysses shut up immediately. “If this is how you deal with grief then so be it, get it out of your system, but don’t expect me to still be here when you’re done!”

  Turning on her heel, she strode out through the open door and away down the corridor.

  “Emilia, wait!” Ulysses called, running after her.

  By the time he reached the corridor, she was already entering the lift. The sounds of her sobs echoed back to him.

  “Emilia!” he tried again, moving out into the corridor uncertainly.

  And then he stopped. She wasn’t in any mood to listen to what he had to say right at that moment.

  “Go after her,” Billie called from the room behind him.

  “No,” he said, his voice a deadened monotone. “It’s probably best this way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I don’t think I’m the safest person to be around right now, do you?”

  The two women looked at him, and then each other, an appalled expression on their faces.

  “I mean we’ve just gone toe-to-toe with a crazed killing machine and I’m about to go in search of some nefarious villain’s secret moonbase. No, it’s best this way. It’s better she’s not anywhere near me, right about now. She’ll be much safer if she stays here at the hotel. I can sort everything out with her later, after this has all been cleared up and I’ve brought Barty’s killer – or killers – to justice.”

  Ulysses walked back into the room, pushing the door shut behind him. “It’s Earthrise in about four hours and preparations need to be made.”

  BY THE TIME she made it back to the more modest suite she was sharing with her father three floors down – some expense having apparently been spared despite the fact that the publicity for their prize-winner’s trip to the Moon had boasted that there was ‘no expense spared’ – Emilia’s tears of anger had become simple tears of sadness and self-pity.

  Ulysses Quicksilver had done it again. As soon as she had let herself get close to him once more, he had gone and let her down, just as he had when they had been engaged three years ago. What a fool she was, she told herself; she had been certain that things would be different this time.

  Fumbling with the key in the lock, wiping the tears from her eyes, she let herself into the room.

  Her father, Alexander Oddfellow, was waiting for her. As was the young man holding him in an arm lock with the barrel of a brutal-looking handgun pressed against the side of his head.

  “Father!” Emilia blurted out before she could stop herself.

  She let out a gasp, feeling the rough metal of another pistol press into the sparse flesh at the back of her head. The owner of the gun pushed harder, forcing Emilia into the room and shutting the door firmly behind her.

  “Good evening, Miss Oddfellow,” came a woman’s voice from behind her. “Or should that be, good morning? It’s time we had a little chat.”

  “Want do you want?” Emilia said, her voice hard.

  “It’s time you learnt the truth about your all expenses paid trip to the Moon.”

  “What?” Emilia could feel the sweat beading on her brow.

  “You know how they say there’s no such thing as a free lunch?” Emilia said nothing. “Well, turns out there’s no such thing as a free trip to the Moon either. And right here’s where you start paying.”

  She felt the sudden change in air pressure behind her then crumpled as the butt of the pistol came down hard on the back of her head, and her world exploded into cold oblivion.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Silent Running

  T MINUS 1 DAY, 2 HOURS, 34 MINUTES, 49 SECONDS

  BY EIGHT A.M., Greenwich Mean Time, Ulysses and his companions had relocated to what appeared to be a scrapyard and were staring up at the bulbous cockpit of a decrepit Lunar Exploration Vehicle. The LEV’s name was still just about visible, etched onto a brass plate, green with verdigris, secured to its hull.

  The rover looked like a Pullman carriage with a giant goldfish bowl bolted onto one end and six giant rubber-tyred wheels, each as tall as a man.

  “You’re impressed, aren’t you, I can tell. I’ve done well, haven’t I?” Billie said, staring with intense scrutiny at Ulysses’ dumbfounded expression. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down.”
/>   The black boiler suit with tailored jacket look suited her, Ulysses thought, with an almost paternal tug of the heartstrings. But so much for her proud boast that she could ‘do girly’. Her droid-cab Rusty squatted on the other side of the yard, rumbling contentedly to itself.

  Nimrod – who was obviously feeling much better after a few hours’ sleep – approached the LEV with caution, as if he were worried it might crumble to dust in front of his very eyes, and ran a critical finger along the hull. He peered down his nose at the line he had traced in the regolith dust covering the vehicle. The smell of gunpowder lingered about the LEV.

  “I would have gone for something a little cleaner myself,” he said. He turned to Billie. “Miss Wilhelmina, are you sure it’s... surface worthy?”

  “The seals are good,” she said, giving one of the huge grey tyres a thump, “and the engine’s an early re-condenser so it’ll keep running ’til the Moon explodes.”

  “That’s not likely to happen any time soon, is it?” Ulysses asked. “You don’t know something we don’t, do you?” He flashed her a knowing grin.

  “No.” She laughed, punching him on the arm. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “So we’re good to go?”

  “There’s a week’s supply of ration packs and water – although the onboard aquifer will keep giving you a not so fresh water supply, but good enough, for up to a month. There are also a couple of atmosphere suits in one of the storage lockers. Basically she’s ready to go when you are.”

  Ulysses considered the Copernicus again. The convention that vehicles should be feminine had always intrigued him, especially when the vehicle in question happened to have a masculine name.

  With droids he could understand it. An entirely different convention had it that they should be made to appear human. Even hulking monsters like Rusty and the late Rossum’s Titan-class construction droids were constructed based on a recognisably humanoid template. And in the case of droids, they were often referred to as being of the male persuasion, apart from in the case of some of the new rubberized Geisha models Ulysses had heard were being developed in the Far East. Those were most definitely female. But vehicles?