Dark Side of the Moon

by P. C. Rasmussen

  Jonathan glanced down at his desk for a moment. "The plan is as follows. It takes about twenty-four hours to get to the Moon for one of those outdated antiquated shuttles they use. My people assure me they can make it in less time. So, in twenty-four hours, you are going to be at the entrance to the utility room in ..." here he consulted something on the desk again "... the second dome."

  Kyle nodded. "I know where it is," he agreed. "But ... why there?" he asked.

  Jonathan looked up to meet his eyes, his expression almost beleaguered. "Because that is the only access point we have. The room vents atmosphere when it is restocked, which opens an access hatch to the outside too. The crew that will pick you up, will bring in a suit for you that way," he said.

  Well, that made sense. "Right," Kyle agreed. "There's just one detail here that we need to discuss."

  His father arched an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

  Kyle had a strange feeling that he knew how his father would respond to his request, but he was going to make it anyway, and he was going to insist. "I'm not the only one going," he said.

  Jonathan Whitmore remained silent for a moment after that, his expression no different than it had been before Kyle had stated his claim. That didn't mean much, though. Kyle could read him, even at this distance, and he was not happy right now. "That is out of the question, Kyle. It is you only."

  Pursing his lips in defiance, Kyle dropped his chin to his chest and just stared down into his lap for a moment. "Then I'm not going," he finally said and looked up again to meet his father's eyes over the distance. It was a gamble, one he wasn't so sure he wanted to make right now. But he had made promises, and he was not going to break them.

  Again Whitmore Sr. was silent for a few heartbeats. "Hold on," he then said and switched the sound off. He spoke to someone, his lips moving soundlessly. Then he made a face, his expression more animated than Kyle could ever remember having seen him. He was pissed off about something and was obviously telling someone off. Then the sound came back. "How many are we talking about?" he asked.

  "Four in all," Kyle said. "Including me."

  "I assume the man I spoke to yesterday ... Stanley? ... is one of them?" Jonathan asked, again briefly consulting whatever notes he might have made.

  "Yes," Kyle agreed.

  "Who are the other two?" Jonathan asked.

  Kyle glanced at Daniel, then over at the door. "Daniel and ... Bark," he said.

  Jonathan managed to convey his emotions quite well even through the unsteady connection. "Bark?" he asked, stressing the name. "What kind of name is Bark?"

  "A nickname, dad. I don't know his real name and I don't care what his real name is. All I care about is that we all get out of here. Daniel is too fucking young to be in prison and neither Stan nor Bark deserved the sentences they got. And if it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here now. So either we all go or nobody does," Kyle countered and was incapable of keeping the annoyance out of his voice.

  Jonathan pressed his lips into a thin line, a sure sign of dissatisfaction, but then he sighed. "Alright. The four of you should be by the entrance to the utility room in the second dome in twenty-four hours. The room will decompress and you will find four suits inside. Put them on and wait for the room to lock down again. Once it does, the exit at the other end will open your path to the waiting shuttle. Twenty-four hours after that, you will be home." He paused and eyed Kyle through the camera. "Any questions?"

  Kyle shook his head. "Nope. Not a one," he countered. "Thanks, dad."

  Jonathan merely nodded once in acceptance of the thank you, then reached out and switched the connection off.

  For a moment after, Kyle just sat there and stared at the mental afterimage of his father's face. Then he exhaled slowly. "We're going home," he said and glanced at Daniel and Stan. "Twenty-four hours and we're out of here."

  "Are you sure?" Daniel asked, his voice a bit unsteady.

  "Yeah, I'm sure. My dad may be a lot of things, but he is no liar," he said. "Besides, if the suits aren't there, we'll just call him back. There will probably have been a glitch or something. I don't think there will be, though. The people who work for my dad are usually too set on pleasing him to mess up in any way."

  "You say that like it's a bad thing," Stan said with a smile and grabbed his shoulder. "Have I told you how much I appreciate this?"

  "No, but that's okay. I know anyway," Kyle countered and grinned back at the other man. "We're going home," he repeated and sighed deeply.

  ***

  Step Two – The Waiting Game

  It turned out that the idea of having to wait for twenty-four hours was a lot more daunting than Kyle ever imagined it could be. After a while, he was pacing and there wasn't much room to pace on as it were.

  "Maybe we should get our butts over there right now?" Bark suggested after having watching him wander back and forth a few times.

  Stopping dead, Kyle eyed him darkly and shook his head. "No," he said and started pacing again. "No, I think this ... dream I had was supposed to be a warning of sorts." He stopped briefly to eye Stan. "Feel free to knock me out if I do that again before the twenty-four hours are up, by the way."

  "Do what again? Sleepwalk?" Stan asked, to which Kyle nodded before he picked up the pacing again. "What exactly did you dream that makes you think that was a warning?"

  "It's hard to put into words," Kyle mused. "Emptiness. Everything felt wrong, out of sorts." 'I saw a big monster hiding in the mess hall,' he added mentally and sneered at the mere idea of it. No, he couldn't say that, couldn't tell them how freaked out he was by that dream or vision or whatever the hell it had been.

  "So ... that's pretty much just like any dream I've ever had," Bark said, unconvinced. "What could possibly happen if we go over there now? We could find rooms, sleep a bit, hang out in the mess hall until it's time to ..."

  "No!" Kyle stopped short and gave him a stern look, hoping against hope that the ripple of pure panic he felt at the mention of the mess hall didn't show in his expression. "Just ... no. We can't. We have to stay here until right before the twenty-four hours are up. We can't risk anything. I'm not jeopardizing my only chance of getting off this rock because I can't wait. It's ... it has to be this way."

  A somewhat worried expression slipped over Bark's face and he leaned back a little. "Okay, fine. If that's the way it has to be," he said, his tone telling Kyle that he was merely trying to mollify him by telling him what he wanted to hear.

  Thoughts ran through his mind at breakneck speed, tumbling over each other and confusing him, but Kyle knew one thing for certain. Whether his dreams were prophetic or just his imagination, he felt it in his bones that they had to stay away, that this plan had to go off without a hitch because there would be no second chance to get it right. He closed his eyes for a moment, just stood there and thought it through once more, and then nodded. Whether Bark was merely telling him what he wanted to hear or genuinely meant it didn't matter. What mattered was that they all stayed here until he felt it was time to leave. "Just ... humor me, okay?" he pleaded. "I'll feel much better about it and within the next forty-eight hours, we'll be back on Earth and free of this nightmare. Give me that much time and I'll make it worth your while."

  All three of them stared at him and Daniel was the first to agree by nodding. The look in his eyes told Kyle that he either knew something or suspected it. Either way, the kid looked as freaked out as he felt and he knew that he would at least have Daniel's support in this.

  "Yeah, why the hell not, right?" Stan intoned and glanced at Bark.

  Bark folded his arms over his chest and just eyed Kyle for a moment, but then shrugged. "Yeah, why not," he agreed. "If it makes you feel better, why the hell not."

  This time Kyle was certain they all meant it and he relaxed instantly. "Thanks guys. I promise you ... I will make it worth your while."

  This caused a somewhat beleaguered look from Stan. "It's not about money," he sai
d. "It's about freedom."

  Much more at ease now, Kyle smiled in reply. "I get that. And you'll get it," he countered seriously. "I swear."

  Apparently this was funny to the other man, because he smirked. "Don't promise something you can't guarantee," he said. "I'm just saying, I don't want you feeling bad about it when it falls through. You've gone above and beyond the call of duty by just promising us a ride out of this pit."

  They locked eyes for a moment, but despite Stan's premature absolution, Kyle still felt the need to reassure all three of them. "It will not fall through, Stan. I have enough sway over the old man to make him do that at least. He's the one who dumped me without giving it a second thought. And I know he at least feels a little rueful about that."

  "Rueful?" Bark chuckled. "Man, you use some funny words sometimes. I sure as hell hope he feels more than rueful. I hope he feels shame and terror at having sent his only son to Hell." He leaned forward a little, hands braced against his knees. "You really think he's gonna give us a clean slate? I mean ... especially where I'm concerned it seems a bit farfetched."

  Stan frowned and Kyle recalled that neither Stan nor Daniel even knew Bark's real name, let alone why he was in prison in the first place. "Why would you be special in this regard?" Stan asked.

  The smile on Bark's lips was a bit sour at this point. He glanced from one to the other, before settling his gaze on Stan. "Because I hacked into his father's fucking company network, buddy," he countered. "That's why I'm here. I dared prove to one of the most powerful men in Pangaea that his super-network wasn't as secure as he'd been led to believe."

  That turned a light on in Stan's eyes when he arched both brows in surprise. "And you think that Jonathan Whitmore, III, gives a fuck about you? He probably doesn't even know who you are."

  "Stan's got a point," Kyle agreed, feeling the need to add his two cents to this conversation. "I severely doubt he has any idea who you are. Did you see him? Was he present at the court case?"

  Bark shifted his attention to Kyle for a second. "What court case? You think I got a fair trial? They caught me and shipped me right up here. And no, I never saw your dad through all that; as I told you before."

  Stan laughed out loud and shook his head in disbelief. "You sure are full of yourself, aren't you?" he asked in a good-natured tone of voice. "I'm with Kyle on this one. Whitmore Sr. has no clue who you are."

  Bark smiled back, taking their words the way they were intended. That didn't mean he was convinced in any way. "We'll see. Personally, I'm sure I'll be on the next shuttle back up here once he realizes who I am," he said.

  Kyle smirked. "The thing you seem to forget here, my friend, is that my father doesn't care about the little guy. As long as his well-oiled machine runs smoothly, he doesn't give a shit if it's built on the bones of the workers at the bottom," he said, voicing a conviction he had harbored since he had been old enough to understand the implications of such a humongous undertaking as Whitmore Enterprises.

  One of Stan's eyebrows shot up. "Dramatic much?" he asked, rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor next to the door. "It's my understanding that everybody out there is comprised of good and bad. Some have more of one or the other. But I cannot imagine, in this day and age, that your father - who is a respectable business man and responsible for millions of workers - would not care about their wellbeing. From what I know, working for Whitmore Enterprises is one of the best damned jobs you can get, no matter where on the ladder you are."

  This was news to Kyle, but then again he had never really cared much about the reputation of his father's pet project apart from the scattered and at times scathing news reports he had picked up on. The company had always meant more to his father than his family, and it had always annoyed the hell out of Kyle as a kid and left him yearning for what he could obviously not have as an adult; namely his father's attention. But he had never shown any direct interest in what it was that occupied his father's attention so strongly. He had merely hated the faceless corporation that had taken his father away from him. The thought that Whitmore Enterprises was a sought-after gig kind of rattled his foundation a little. He had always seen a corporate entity like that as a suppressor, a machine that was grinding over the little guy without thought or care. "Is that a fact?" he asked doubtfully.

  "Yeah," Bark agreed. "That's what I've heard too. Generally I've always felt that when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. And I did find some ... interesting tidbits about your father's company when I broke through the security. But none of it had any bearing on Whitmore Enterprises as being indifferent to its workers."

  "Really?" Kyle frowned a little and slumped against the closed door. Maybe he would have to pay a little more attention to what his father was up to, and not waste so much time being 'existentially challenged'? He shrugged lightly. "Well, I guess now I get a chance to find out for myself."

  "You've never worked for your father, have you?" Daniel asked.

  A shake of the head would perhaps suffice as a reply, but Kyle had always been in favor of elaborating. "No, I've never worked, period. I didn't need to. And it never really crossed my mind that I should try to get involved. I had everything I needed, after all. It wasn't good enough, of course, but I didn't know any better at the time."

  Bark glanced back at the monitor behind him, which was displaying a countdown. "Well, we have about twenty hours left," he said. "How about we get some sleep?"

  "I don't think I can," Daniel said with a sigh.

  "Try anyway," Stan suggested kindly. "It's going to be one hell of a nerve-wrecking ride until this is all over."

  'If we get that far', Kyle thought and grimaced at his own sudden negativity. What the hell was that all about? The dream? Maybe. It sure had been one mindbender of a dream or vision or whatever. But it wasn't in his nature to look on the dark side of life. Why would he start now? "Yeah, you've got a point," he agreed instead and didn't feel it. Twenty hours was a lot of time for something to go wrong. In twenty hours, this place could look like his dream, empty and desolate with only the voices of ghosts whispering on the breeze and a monster of unknown proportions waiting in the darkness.

  He dropped down next to Daniel and pulled one blanket over his shoulders. Something told him that the closer he came to the cut-off time, the more nervous he would get.

  ***

  What woke him up wasn't clear at first. He realized while still half asleep that he had managed to drift off after all, then glanced around at the others and saw that they were out too. And then he became aware of the light tremble in the flooring beneath him. For a moment he just sat there and felt it. Then he slowly got up. But something stopped him. Was this another dream? He was the only one awake right now and if it was, what did this mean? Could he choose to stay here and ignore the tremble? Or was the tremble a result of the creature spreading out under the domes, digging its way through the solid rock to be able to get at all of them whenever it wanted to?

  He could not deny the almost overwhelming urge to just get out there and find out what was causing it, but what would he see when he opened the door? Would dome 1 be empty again? Would there even be a dome?

  "Fuck," he muttered, decidedly shaky now; and he hated that feeling. He needed to be in control, needed to be the levelheaded one among them.

  "What?" Bark raised his head from the pillow and eyed him blearily. He sent a brief glance up at the countdown and then yawned heartily. "Kyle, go back to sleep. We've got plenty of time."

  "Do you feel that?" Kyle asked, ignoring the other man's suggestion.

  Bark pushed up on one elbow. "Feel what?" he asked.

  "That tremble," Kyle persisted. "What is that?"

  For a moment Bark eyed the floor plates beneath them, and then looked up again to face Kyle. "Those are machine vibrations," he said matter-of-factly. "Probably the gravity-wells at play. Or there's a new batch of prisoners coming in. Remember, we're right next to the arrival area."
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  Kyle tried to remember if he'd felt that before, but couldn't. Maybe he hadn't paid enough attention? He almost smirked and briefly closed his eyes. "Yeah, right, makes sense," he conceded, pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and settled down again. "Guess I'm a bit nervous."

  Bark glanced at Daniel and then at Stan, both of them dead to the world, and then met Kyle's gaze again. "You afraid they're not gonna show up?" he asked quietly.

  "No, it's not that." Kyle sighed and fought in vain to subdue a yawn. "I'm more worried about what can happen between now and then."

  "Well, stop worrying. You'll scare the kids," Bark countered with a smirk and settled down again. "Personally, I'm looking forward to a decent shower and, most of all, a decent bed."

  Kyle nodded. "Me too," he agreed quietly and listened while the other man's breathing evened out again. "Me too."

  ***

  Step Three – Action required

  For the next ten hours, Kyle remained awake and aware. He figured that the dim light in the com-station room was in part responsible for that the whole lot of them slept like babies for that long.

  Mesmerized by the running countdown on the screen above them, Kyle had spent a good long while just sitting there watching it. His mind drifted, but he had to admit that he feared the dreams; those waking nightmares that made him sleepwalk all over the place. He wondered if it was still a lingering effect of that meat, or if maybe he was just more sensitive to the underlying currents of this prison.

  The tremble in the floor came and went, proving Bark right. It was a regular occurrence that Kyle just hadn't noticed before, and the idea that it was machinery in the ground or close by that caused these vibrations made him feel safer somehow. But that was about all that made him feel that way. He had a constant itch to get up and get moving. Granted, he had never liked waiting. In his world, he pointed and he received. He never had to consider if he could afford something, or how long he would have to wait until he got the money together. Anything he wanted, he bought. And having to sit around and wait to be rescued really bothered him. But it was still more than that. There was a pungent smell in the air which only he seemed able to smell. It wasn't the overpowering scent of unwashed bodies driven by hopelessness and despair either. That was a scent he was familiar with. Some of the hobos he had woken up among after a bender had reeked of it. No, this was different. It was ... like a low-level current of pure panic, of something so primal it sent his basic instincts into overdrive. It was the sense that running away was the only option; that even that might not be enough to keep him alive. And the longer he waited, the stronger it got.