“I am really going to enjoy this,” Oly said as she carefully aimed at Beryl.
On the ground below Oly, a giant hand reached out toward her leg.
The hand grabbed her leg and pulled Oly toward the person it belonged to as Oly pulled the trigger, letting off a shot. Oly fell to the ground, yelling, and Beryl reached for her head. A small bit of blood formed on her cheek, and Vlad saw that the bullet had mostly missed Beryl, just grazing her skin.
Still, there was a line across her freckled cheek where the bullet had grazed her, an angry line that could easily become a future scar.
The shot that had grazed Beryl seemed to jolt Fawn back into the action around her, and Fawn took the branch still in her hand, raised it, and slammed it into the arm in which Oly still held her gun.
Oly immediately dropped the weapon.
Vlad knew he was too far to grab for the gun and that neither Beryl nor Fawn was close to grab it, either.
The only person close enough to grab for it, other than Oly, was Quince.
The big man saw that fact, too. He picked up the weapon before Vlad could even form another thought.
Vlad held his breath as the big man looked at the weapon in his hand and sat up, likely unable to stand on his injured knees. He looked at the gun as if he didn’t know what to do with it, then casually tossed it away toward the river.
Oly screamed and swore at the big man, turning and flailing at him. Without a weapon, though, Quince seemed almost amused as she started beating on him with her hands, the only weapon she now had at her disposal.
“Fawn,” Beryl shouted, “Your gun!”
Vlad looked at Fawn, who in turn looked to her side where her weapon remained holstered. It had been there the entire time they had been in the fight.
“Iris told me not to use it,” Fawn replied, as if this was an adequate explanation for the fact she had nearly let them all die instead of utilizing the weapon. Apparently seeing the confused looks on the faces of Vlad and Beryl, she realized that this explanation made no sense. “She didn’t want anyone with the other group to come back here if I fired it.”
“I think that possibility ended as soon as Oly shot her gun. How are they supposed to tell the difference between the two?” Vlad asked.
“That’s a good point,” Fawn replied, clearly not having thought about that situation. She immediately pulled out her own weapon and pointed it at Oly and Quince. Neither noticed what she was doing, as they were too caught up in their own fight. Fawn shouted at them, but neither paid her any attention.
Something caught Vlad’s eye as Fawn attempted and failed to get the attention of Oly and Quince, though.
Near where Beryl laid on the ground sat the large knife Oly had carried with her.
The one Beryl had dismissed as ineffectual just a day before.
“Beryl,” Vlad said, attempting to speak as quietly as he could over the commotion of Oly and Quince and still be heard. He nodded his head at the knife. As soon as she saw what Vlad was nodding at, he could see Beryl knew exactly what he wanted her to do. Beryl crawled the few feet to the knife, then maneuvered so her back was to the blade. In a few seconds, the sharp knife had cut through the bonds tying her hands together.
Her hands free, Beryl grabbed the knife and rushed toward Vlad.
Beryl’s sudden movement caught the eye of Oly. It didn’t take the Civitian any time to recognize that Beryl no longer had her hands tied behind her back.
Even more upsetting to the other woman seemed to be her recognition that Beryl was now in possession of her own weapon.
“No!” Oly shouted and started to stand up. The big man grabbed her left leg and pulled, dropping Oly to the ground. Oly’s head hit the ground, hard.
Beryl didn’t even look at the two Civitians as she ran toward Vlad, slicing through the rope tying his hands in one smooth motion.
Vlad pulled his hands around to this front, rubbing his sore wrists where they had been bound. Without a weapon, he was still at the mercy of everyone else in the clearing, but just having his wrists untied made him feel slightly less vulnerable.
Oly attempted to stand up again, and Quince pulled her back to the ground with his hand that still held her leg.
“Give it up, Oly,” Beryl said. Oly seethed at the statement, baring her teeth slightly like a cornered dog. “You’re outnumbered.”
Oly looked at each of the Columbinians in turn, as if she was wondering which of them was the weakest. Then she turned to Quince.
The bared teeth turned into a smile at seeing him.
“Quince, you still have your gun,” she said. “Take care of this mess.”
Quince looked at Oly, confused. He put his hand to his gun and pulled it out, looking at it as he did so.
Vlad couldn’t believe he had missed this most obvious situation.
The big man still had his own gun.
Oly turned from Quince toward the Columbinians. The smile on her face was one of triumph.
Vlad couldn’t believe it. After all that, they had still lost.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The clear sound of some sort of bird—Heming guessed something large and parrot-like, based on its squawk—rang out from the branches far over his head. Several others answered, sounding like they were talking to each other.
“What was that?” A voice from just a few feet from where Heming and Camp crouched in the woods said. Despite the short distance between him and where the voice was coming from, he could not see whoever had said it, though he had no doubt it was one of the Civitians.
“Whatever it was, I hope it doesn’t come any closer.” A different voice spoke this time. Heming smiled. If they thought some bird high above and clearly no threat to them was bad, he would love to see what happened when they saw something truly scary in the woods.
“Could you guys shut up?” A third voice came through the woods, making no effort to be quiet. Heming recognized Wolf’s voice immediately.
The other voices in the group quieted, but they were not silent. However, they were quiet enough as they walked past where Heming and Camp were positioned that Heming could hear them slashing their way down the slight path through the jungle instead of their voices.
“Hey assholes,” Heming recognized this voice, coming from the woods a fair distance from him and headed away from the clearing where the Bird sat, and where Fawn was hopefully freeing Beryl and Vlad at that same moment. The voice belonged to Iris. “What’s taking you so long? Afraid of what you might find in the woods?”
“That’s their AI!” A Civitian voice said.
“I’m not an AI!” Iris replied in the most typically Iris comment Heming could imagine. Even when they were all in danger of dying, Iris couldn’t let certain things go. For being so smart, Iris was quick to get defensive when someone questioned her intelligence. “I am an intelligence system.”
“AI snob!” Another voice called out.
“Damn it,” Wolf’s voice jumped in to the conversation before it could descend into further name-calling. “Why don’t you all shut up so we can all find Iris and get rid of our Columbinian problem once and for all.”
Heming heard the Civitians start hacking their way through the woods at a quicker pace. He wished he could tell Iris that they were on their way, but she seemed to have it all figured out.
Heming listened as the sounds of the woods covered up any of those of the Civitians making their way toward Iris. After what seemed like a prudent amount of time, Heming motioned to Camp to follow him, and he made his way back to the path, still shocked that their plan was going so well.
*
Fawn watched the big man pull the gun from its holster and stare at the weapon, almost like he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it.
Oly turned from the big man whom she had just been trying to injure with an exultant smile on her face, secure in the knowledge that, despite everything that had happened, she had still won the fight.
Quince was
, after all, on her side.
Fawn looked at her own gun.
She knew how bad she was with the weapon. Even weeks of practice on Rediviva had no improved her ability to use the gun much. Like everyone else, she carried it every day, but she never thought she would have to use it. For Fawn, it was something like a bracelet—an accessory that served no real presence in her life. For Fawn, she had never seen a reason to use a weapon. It wasn’t like she saw many Vos in her day-to-day life on Columbina.
Fawn looked toward Quince, who still sat on the ground with Oly’s leg in his arm. His other arm held his own gun.
Fawn wondered if she could do this—if she could shoot the gun at someone so evil even as Oly. She was a nurse and supposed to save lives, not take them. If anyone she had ever met deserved it, though, Oly would be that person. Fawn turned toward her, but she still couldn’t take someone’s life in this situation. Not even someone so evil as Oly.
The maniacal look on Oly’s face didn’t fade, and Fawn looked back to Quince. He was still looking at his weapon, as if he didn’t know what to do with it. The big man seemed so gentle, despite his size. He seemed so much like Clem, one of the children on Columbina. However, it wasn’t Clem that he reminded Fawn of so much in this moment as her own young children. Maybe it was partially wishful thinking on her part, now that they were no longer with her. He may have been a grown man, but he seemed to have all the best qualities of children.
And now, injured, he needed her.
He needed her as much as her children had needed her, when she hadn’t been able to help them during the fight against the drones on Columbina.
Thinking of her own children, Fawn knew what she had to do. She hadn’t been able to help them in the end, but maybe she could help Quince. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes she had made then.
She knelt down and carefully set the gun on the ground, then stood up again.
“What the fuck are you doing, Fawn?” Vlad asked, quietly. He wasn’t mad at her, but Fawn could tell he thought she was crazy.
“Just trust me,” she said. Quince looked at her, seemingly intrigued by what she was doing.
Fawn took a deep breath and took one step toward Quince and Oly.
Oly laughed. “Are you kidding me? You’re making this even easier than it should be. Quince, take her out.”
The big man didn’t make any movement at the order, now looking from Fawn to his gun.
“Quince, my name is Fawn.” Fawn spoke, trying to keep her voice soft and calm, even though her heart was racing and she felt anything but the calm she was trying to force herself to feel. “Do you remember me? We met at supper a few days ago.”
Quince finally did something other than look bewildered—he nodded at Fawn in response to her question. Her heart still raced, but Fawn was happy that Quince was listening to her. It was a step in the right direction.
“I think I told you that night that I am a nurse. Do you remember that, too?” The big man nodded again, and Fawn took another small step toward him and Oly. Fawn saw he was no longer looking at his gun, but only her. It was another good sign.
“I know you’re hurt. I just want to come over there and make sure you’re alright.” Fawn started taking small steps as she spoke, trying to get to Quince while avoiding Oly. She would have to make a wide circle to avoid the crazy woman.
“Don’t listen to her, Quince. She’s one of them. She’s a bad guy.” Oly stared at Fawn, but the glare in her eyes was definitely aimed more at Quince than at her. Quince looked nothing but confused at what Oly was saying Fawn wasn’t sure how much he understood about the situation.
“Quince, are you a little confused?” The big man didn’t nod or shake his head. Fawn took it as a sign that he was definitely confused.
“I just want to help you. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have kept my gun. I put it down so you would know I just want to do my job and be a nurse. I want to make you feel better.”
“Damn it, Quince, take her out!” Oly shouted.
Fawn looked toward Vlad and Beryl. Both of them had cut the ties that had held their hands behind their backs. Fawn still held the giant knife Oly had dropped earlier.
“Beryl, could you do me a favor?” Beryl nodded at the question from Fawn. “Could you put that knife down?”
“What?” Beryl replied. It was obvious she did not want to put the knife down.
“Put the knife down. I want Quince to see that none of us want to hurt him. We just want to help him.”
Beryl shook her head, but despite her obvious incredulity at the request, she knelt down and slowly placed the knife on the ground before standing back up.
“Jesus Christ, Quince. Take any of them out! Kill them before they kill you!” Oly screamed.
Fawn continued walking toward Quince with her slow and deliberate steps. Oly had started to pull away from the big man, but to Fawn it seemed like he was holding her ankle even more tightly.
“See, Quince, none of us from Columbina want to hurt you. We just want to help you. Remember, Oly is the one who hurt you.” Fawn was almost there. Another few steps and she would be able to kneel down and touch the big man.
“Quince, stop listening to her! What would Wolf think? He is going to kill you when he gets back.”
At the name of Wolf, Fawn saw Quince hesitate. Oly saw the opening as well.
“Do you want Wolf to hurt you? You know he will.”
Quince stopped looking at the gun and pointed it at Fawn. He didn’t do anything more than that, and Fawn could see he was purposely avoiding making eye contact with her.
That wasn’t good.
Fawn was trying to think of something to say to reassure Quince when Beryl’s voice rang out in the clearing.
“Quince, thank you for saving my dog.” Beryl smiled at the big man. Fawn had no idea what Beryl was talking about, but it had drawn the attention of Quince. Not only that, but he seemed more interested in the comment about the dog than anything she had asked him. “Remember when Wolf told you to kill him and you didn’t? You don’t have to do what Wolf says all the time. Sometimes even people you love want you to do things you know are wrong. When that happens, you still do the right thing. Just like you did with Camp.”
Fawn watched as Quince considered the words. Fawn wasn’t sure how much the big man had understood of what Beryl told him, but it was enough that it had given him pause.
Fawn took a final step and knelt down next to Quince. From here, it was likely Oly could attempt to grab her and succeed in doing so. Quince could also stop Oly.
Or he could kill Fawn, either by shooting her or, almost as easily, with his bare hands.
Fawn placed her right hand on Quince’s side. He did not flinch or otherwise move when she did so. She hoped the touch would soothe him.
“Quince, could I ask you a favor?” Quince looked into Fawn’s eyes, finally, as she asked the question. They were deep brown, and the sort of eyes she would have described as puppy-like. “Could you put the gun down? It is hard for me to work if you are holding it.”
Quince looked to the gun and smiled. He set it down on the ground next to him.
Fawn felt relief wash over her body.
Oly, though, seemed to see this as an opportunity.
She lunged for Quince’s gun and managed to get her hand on it. Fawn felt the scream leave her mouth before she heard its sound.
Then, she felt the brush of air past her as Quince’s arm blew past her and slammed its fist into Oly’s head.
Oly’s hand fell off of the gun and she fell backwards, knocked out.
Fawn’s scream stopped abruptly, and she let out another breath.
“Thank you, Quince,” she said and smiled at the big man.
Quince smiled back.
Chapter Thirty-Four
There was nothing about the woods that was not terrifying.
Birch had no idea how the Columbinians seemed to feel at home in these woods.
Back on Civitas, the tal
lest natural plants only grew a few inches tall, and the few non-plant life forms on the planet were primitive and almost entirely found in the ocean. Anything larger than the natural life forms was planted in orderly fashion in their farm plots and orchards, giving the planet a sense of tidiness and organization that was comforting.
Here on Libertas, though, everything was haphazard, like someone had just thrown seeds and plants everywhere and watched to see what happened, without any care for uniformity and precision. And what did they have to show for it?
A terrifying jungle where everything that didn’t want to eat him probably wanted to poison him or otherwise injure him.
A buzzing sound suddenly started just above his head level, and Birch flinched.
I wonder if an animal could have a chainsaw as part of its body, he thought, imagining such a creature in his head. It was a scary enough thought that he tried to get his mind to think about the many videos of Vos he had seen in his day.
The Vos were far less scary than the creatures in his mind that inhabited these woods.
“Damn it, where did she go?” Wolf said, three people ahead of Birch in the line of men moving through the woods to try to find the three Columbinians they didn’t already have in their custody.
No one answered their leader’s question, preferring to just continue on their way and not stir him up. Ever since they had arrived on the surface of Libertas, their supposedly fearless leader had begun to show signs of stress. Back on Civitas, when they had taken the Ivy for their own and left the planet, he had been the sort of man Birch would have followed anywhere and done anything for.
Now, though, things were different.
Take, for instance, the morning they had arrived at Whit’s compound and discovered the Bird belonging to the Columbinians sitting there.
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