Third Rock

by S E T Ferguson

  Whit had been busy.

  Or rather, his drones had been busy. Very, very busy.

  “That’s not good,” Whit said, looking at the door. On the wall next to its handle, a smooth panel flashed some sort of a yellow light. Whit touched the panel’s flat screen, quickly running through several difference screens. “Not good at all.”

  Iris moved so she was just over Whit’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Something out there tripped a sensor. I have some small camera drones out there looking to see what it was.”

  “Wait, how are your drones able to send the information back?” Heming asked.

  “All locally controlled. The communications barrier stops all orbital communications. Or really, anything above about 10,000 feet—that basically prevents any modern communication.” Vlad nodded; that was what he had seen with the Bird. It was nice to have confirmation of what he had seen. “But anything below 10,000 feet can travel more or less unimpeded.”

  “That’s why the Civitians had the old-fashioned walkie talkies,” Iris said.

  “Plus, I designed the system. I may have a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to making things work, despite the barrier. You’ll be interested in some of those, Iris.”

  “Great. You have awesome technology.” Heming jumped into the conversation. “I’m personally more worried about those old-fashioned guns the Civitians have out there. Also, this tripped sensor. What are the chances it is some horrible Libertasian creature, instead of a Civitian?”

  “That one is a lot like his dad at his age.” Whit nodded toward Heming, ignoring the younger man’s question for a moment.

  “What?” Vlad asked, without even realizing he was questioning the statement. Before the Earth AI had killed him, their father had been nothing like Heming. They had been polar opposites.

  “Your dad changed a lot when he had kids. Responsible member of society, patient, all that. Before that, he raised some serious hell and couldn’t wait to get to wherever he was headed, even though he never quite knew where that was. He’s just lucky I wasn’t around to let all of you kids know about his less responsible younger days.” Vlad tried to imagine their father, the serious man they all knew, as anything like Heming. Other than some of their shared physical features, it seemed impossible to imagine the two of them as anything alike.

  Iris must have seen the incredulous looks she got from all of the younger people in the hallway. None of them seemed to believe Heming and his father had ever been similar. “You are actually so alike it can be somewhat disturbing. Right down to all your scheming ways to make money.”

  “I don’t believe a word of it,” Heming said. “I need proof.”

  “Fine,” Iris said. “When we get back to Rediviva, I’ll show you some old videos of him. You’re going to think you’re watching a mirror.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” Heming said.

  Whit touched the screen again. From where he stood, Vlad only had a slight view of the screen, but he could see that the image on it showed a jungle landscape.

  “Do you recognize him?” Whit asked, pointing to a man crouching in the woods, looking at a door that resembled the one they had originally used to get into the caves where they now stood.

  No one had any doubt who they were looking at: it was one of the Civitians.

  Chapter Forty-One

  “I think we should open up the doors and let them in.”

  Beryl’s statement was met with a chorus of voices expressing more than mild displeasure with the idea. The group sat at a table in the main living area of the cave, discussing what to do about the situation outside the doors. Whit had assured them that the doors were secure and would keep the Civitians out, at least until they found or made some rather large and powerful explosives.

  They all knew it was only a matter of time until that happened.

  “Unless,” Whit had commented, “They already have the explosives manufactured. In which case, we should only expect to have a few minutes.

  After that comment, they had decided they needed to act as soon as possible. The only problem was that they would be sitting ducks if they attempted to exit the tunnels through either of the doors. The Civitians would take them out even before they could exit the caves. Even at the back door, where there was only one Civitian, they would be at a huge disadvantage.

  White had told them there were other outlets to the outdoors—vents and the like—but Whit assured them that there was no way any of them were small enough to use those. And even if they had been larger, they vented out in ways that would have been impossible for a human to traverse, with tight turns and vertical shafts.

  The lack of a way out was why they were sitting on the couches in the living area, attempting to come up with something—anything—to deal with the problem.

  And why Beryl had just suggested letting the Civitians in.

  “Hear me out,” she said, looking at all of them in turn and hoping to turn at least one person to her side. It wasn’t as if anyone else had any ideas, let alone good ideas. “We can’t leave the caves without getting mowed down by people with a better position than us. We probably wouldn’t even see them before they took us out.”

  “That is clear,” Heming said. “I’m not sure how opening the doors helps out on that.”

  “Down here, we have the upper hand. We know—or can learn—the necessary layout quickly and draw them to areas where we can have the advantage.”

  “How are they going to know the doors are open? And how are we going to make sure they come in? Wouldn’t the smart thing be to just continue to wait? Or find something to draw us out? It doesn’t seem to me that it would be difficult to manufacture some gas or whatever that would not only draw us out, but could easily kill us without a single shot being fired. Plus, if we just open the doors, they are going to get suspicious.” Heming still looked incredulous at every aspect of the plan.

  “I don’t know,” Vlad added. “It does have some things I like. At least it gives us the advantage of fighting on our own turf, instead of where the Civitians have the high ground.”

  “Remember, we do have one other big advantage,” Beryl said. “They don’t want to kill Dad. They need him. So, whatever they do, it isn’t going to kill everyone indiscriminately.”

  Heming considered that, then came up with another question. “What makes you think they will come down here?”

  “They followed Iris into the woods as part of your plan, didn’t they? At least, that’s what you told us.”

  “That was different. There, they hadn’t already fallen for the trick. They weren’t expecting a trap. Here, they are definitely going to be expecting one and they’ve already fallen for a similar trick. They won’t go for it again. Particularly if we just open the door.”

  “Are they?” Vlad asked. “They don’t seem like the sort who would learn from their past mistakes.”

  “Are you willing to bet your life on whether they learn from their past mistakes?”

  “I have an idea how to make them fall for it,” Iris spoke up. Beryl looked at her, curious. She didn’t think Iris would want any part of this plan. It was far too risky for her logical mind.

  “Let’s hear it,” Whit said. Beryl looked at her father and realized he knew Iris better than even she did. He was probably even more surprised by her suggestion than Beryl had been.

  “We make them think they got in on their own.”

  Beryl looked at her father as a smile spread across his face. He felt exactly the same way she did.

  This crazy idea just might work.

  *

  Vlad stood to the side of an open doorway leading off of the main living room of the caves. Beryl stood on the other side of the doorway, her gun in hand.

  A voice came through the walkie-talkie Whit held in his hand. It was Iris.

  “OK, they’re at the entrance pad now,” she said. Vlad wished they could see exactly what was happening, but for now, Iris dictati
ng to them what was happening was the best they could do. This was key to the plan—Iris had made it look like there was some sort of malfunction with the entrance pad, to get their attention. “Oly suggested they should watch out in case it’s a trap of some sort. Shit. Not good. But she’s suspicious of everything. OK, OK. They are discussing. They don’t think it’s a trap. Not even Oly, apparently, She was just suggesting it as a possibility.”

  “OK, Wolf is at the screen. I made it so it isn’t super easy for him to get in. He’s still going to have to feel like he broke into the system and overrode some settings.”

  Iris stopped speaking for an uncomfortably long period.

  “Are you OK? Is everything OK?” Vlad asked.

  “Oh, yeah. All is well. Nothing is happening, though. I mean, Wolf is just running through the screens, seeing if there is anything he can do to get in.”

  “How long are you going to let him do this?”

  “As long as it takes before he gets uncomfortable. I’d guess another minute or two before that happens. And then I’ll let him try for another couple minutes.”

  As they waited for Wolf, Iris’s running commentary continued, though she did intersperse it with a rendition of some Weird Al song.

  “Don’t quit your day job for a singing career,” Whit said when Iris finished her song.

  “Considering how much trouble you all manage to find and which I am required to help you get out of, you don’t have to worry about that. I just don’t have the time. But I do right now while we wait for Wolf.”

  Iris sang the first few notes of a different Weird Al song, then abruptly stopped.

  “Oh, I didn’t anticipate that.” Iris interrupted herself. “Damn. That was going to be an excellent song. I’m sorry you aren’t going to get to enjoy it.”

  “We’ll live. What’s going on?” Heming asked. He was situated in another of the doorways. Their hope was that the Civitians would all come to the main room, where they could just ambush them. Iris had suggested they capture them, but the underlying sentiment had been not to worry about that if it came to it. They had all had enough trouble with the Civitians that no one was going to care whether they lived or died in what was about to happen.

  “He’s going to shoot the pad.”

  “What?” Vlad asked. He had heard Iris alright, but he didn’t believe it was true.

  “He got frustrated. I probably should have let him in earlier.” Vlad could almost hear Iris shrugging through the walkie-talkie. “And…he shot it. Whit, you had better open that door remotely now.”

  “I’m on it.” Whit said. To Vlad, it didn’t look like he was doing anything, except remaining in the doorway with them. “It’s open.”

  Vlad had no idea what had just happened, but it was as if Whit had done what Iris normally did—take care of things remotely and without actually doing anything.

  There was clearly a lot more going on here than it seemed. Between the unnatural healing, Whit and Poydras looking as if they hadn’t aged a day since they had left, and now Whit being able to control technology without seeming to do anything, it was clear more was going on here on Libertas than any of them had suspected.

  “OK, it’s open. And the Civitians just realized it.”

  “Are they coming in?” Heming asked.

  “Yup. Depending on how fast they come in, we’ve only got a couple minutes.”

  Vlad looked at Beryl. She smiled. For the first time since they got to Libertas, it felt like they were the ones with the upper hand in a fight.

  *

  Birch shouldered his weapon and watched the back door of the complex.

  His walkie talkie cackled on.

  Birch jumped. Every noise out in the jungle seemed to do that to him. Even the ones he knew were not ones he needed to worry about, like those that came from his own devices and technology.

  They had found out the hard way on the walk from the island back to the compound in the jungle that there were plenty of things in the woods that wanted to kill them.

  “Birch, we’re in. Keep an eye on the back door. If they come out, shoot to kill,” Wolf’s voice came over the walkie talkie.

  “Got it,” Birch replied, every fiber of his being hopeful that it would not come to that. His heart still pounded from the surprise of the walkie talkie noise, but now that Wolf had told him they were in, maybe he could relax a little.

  Birch didn’t know how this was going to end, but it was definitely going to end soon.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Heming watched the group of five Civitians come through the hallway and into the main room of the underground compound.

  Like the Columbinians before them, they seemed entranced by the sights around them, though with slightly more wariness. This was not anything like the caves they, too, would have had back home for their servers and safety.

  At least, not looks-wise, they were nothing alike.

  “Put your weapons down.” Iris’s voice boomed through the large room. Heming had no idea how she was projecting it like she was, but the sound was both impressive and terrifying.

  “Or what?” Wolf’s unamplified voice boomed back. It wasn’t as loud, but it was imposing.

  Heming heard Iris pause, as if she had expected the Civitians to just surrender. Sometimes, for as smart as she was, Heming wondered how she could be so dumb.

  “Or else we take them the hard way.”

  Wolf’s laugh echoed around the room.

  Heming heard, but couldn’t see, the thump in the main room, as something landed on the ground.

  “What the hell is that?” Oly’s voice now rang through the room.

  As if in answer to her question, a flash of light and then a booming sound exploded through the domed room. Heming could feel the boom in his chest, as if someone had punched him, and his eyes seemed temporarily blinded from the light, even though he had not even had his eyes open when the flash grenade had exploded.

  Based on the yells and screams from those who had been in the room when the grenade went off, it had been much worse in there than where Heming stood.

  “Now!” Iris’s voice came through the walkie talkie, sending Heming in to the large room, which was now filled with smoke. Heming knew what he needed to avoid in the room, and hoped that the Civitians had not had time to realize they needed to be committing the room’s layout to memory before the grenade exploded.

  Heming moved toward the center of the room, where he found the first Civitian looking dazed after running into a couch. The man didn’t even see Heming as he grabbed him and took him to the ground. Within a few seconds, Heming had grabbed the Civitian’s gun and had the man tied up.

  As Heming stood up to see if there was anywhere he could help, the smoke was already clearing.

  With the clearing smoke, though, Heming saw that they had a very serious problem.

  *

  At first, the plan had gone so well for Beryl.

  She had found and disarmed one of the Civitians, then tied him up without incident.

  It was then that things started going badly.

  By then, the smoke had started to dissipate and Beryl could see what was going on around her. Even the Civitians, who had clearly not been expecting the old-fashioned flash grenade were regaining their senses and getting into the fight.

  Still, the Columbinians had clearly had the upper hand for most of the time. Of the five Civitians that had come in, three sat on the ground, tied up as if they hadn’t even realized what was happening.

  And then, Beryl saw that not everything had gone to plan.

  Wolf had Vlad kneeling on the ground, with his gun to Vlad’s head and a smile on his face.

  Even worse, Oly stood with her gun to Whit’s side. Her father stood with his hands on his head.

  “I had hoped I would get to kill you, Beryl, but I suppose I can kill your father instead.” Oly grinned. Her eyes were wide, as if she couldn’t believe her good fortune.

  Beryl moved her gun fro
m Wolf to Oly.

  “Well, this is a bit of a conundrum, isn’t it?” Wolf smiled. The man seemed to be enjoying the situation. She had no doubt he was not just capable of killing Vlad, he was the sort of person who would actually enjoy doing it. “Who do you sacrifice? Your father or loverboy?”

  “You aren’t going to kill my dad.” Beryl stopped her gun on Wolf, rather than Oly. “You need him.”

  “Do we? Look around you. We’re in his compound now. We can just access his technology without him. Why do we need the trouble of having him around?”

  “Passwords? Biometrics? Something going wrong? It seems to me you have a dozen reasons to keep him alive, at least until you know you have what you need.”

  “I’m not concerned. Ellis and I will get the communications barrier down and take out the passwords eventually. And we’ve all seen plenty of disgusting ways to deal with biometrics thanks to the movies.”

  Beryl considered what Wolf was telling her. She suspected the Civitians would have serious issues without her father, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. Maybe they could get by without him and still get everything they wanted.

  Beryl saw Oly glance at Wolf, almost as if what he was saying was new to her—like she hadn’t heard they had other ways to get the technology they needed without Whit.

  The edge of her mouth twitched, as if she was suppressing a smile.

  It wasn’t much of a tell on her part.

  Beryl saw it, though.

  Oly no longer thought they needed Whit.

  What Beryl didn’t realize right then was that Wolf had seen the tell as well. And he also knew what it meant.

  She thought the Civitians no longer needed Whit.

  She was going to kill him.

  Beryl didn’t have time to scream before she heard the shot from Oly’s gun ring out loudly in the domed room.

  Its sound reverberated around the rock chamber, echoing over and over again.