Rusev scanned the pages Holly had just read, to make sure she hadn’t made any dangerous assumptions. Holly didn’t mind; better safe than sorry.
When Rusev was satisfied, she and everyone else gathered around as Holly sat in one of the bunker’s two chairs with Yury in the other and the binder itself now doing the job of propping the door open; again, better safe than sorry. They all watched as Holly navigated through the opening menus using the huge trackpad directly below the main screen.
The system’s layout was surprisingly and welcomely familiar, running on a variant of the commercial operating system developed by Morrison Electric with which almost everyone had some degree of experience.
“Troubleshooting,” Viola said. “Right there, see the icon?”
Holly clicked it.
Short of a recorded interview with Roger Morrison himself answering overt questions like “Why did you build Terradox?” and “What is your plan?”, the breadth and depth of information within the troubleshooting guide Viola spotted was the best thing anyone could have hoped for.
Morrison had obviously never expected anyone to enter the bunker, much less access its computer system, so there were no carefully worded terms or opaque language.
“Zonal Blending” was one of the first topics in the long list. Holly clicked it and the group scanned the text and images. As the term suggested, zonal blending related to the blending of climate and ground conditions between ordinarily discrete zones. The divisions could be firm, as when Holly and Viola saw clouds stop in a perfect line as though blocked by an invisible wall, or one zone’s conditions could taper into the next, meeting halfway. It was interesting, but hardly pressing.
The “Gravity Control” topic was much the same, explaining how the level of gravity experienced on Terradox’s surface could be altered by turning a dial. Interesting, but hardly pressing. Slightly more worth noting was the information on how to reduce the effects of Terradox’s “Exterior Gravity Cloak” to ease the approach of incoming vessels as Dante had failed to do with his hidden transceiver.
“Should I skip the next one?” Holly asked, hovering the cursor over the word “Geosimilarity”.
Rusev asked her to click it, so she did.
The topic outlined how to alter the day-night cycle on Terradox, which was set by default to mimic Earth’s. There was also an option to remove the “artificial skyscape” — news to everyone — in order to monitor approaching vessels or enjoy “a more authentic Terradox experience.” The guide stressed that such changes should only be made when everyone knew they were coming, since such a major kind of visual modification could prove extremely disorienting if it came by surprise. The option to bring forth a “fantasy sky” with a chosen number of moons and visible constellations excited Bo, but there was no time to look into it.
The news of the artificial skyscape made Holly wonder, briefly, whether solar rays penetrated through the planet’s romotech cloak. Given how well the group’s solar charging devices had operated since their landing, and given that the artificial skyscape could be removed to make the real sun visible, she assumed so.
The title of the next topic, the last in the current section, promised much: “Communications”.
In amongst the tips to solve specific problems, the group learned that any data transfer other than a single “permission-seeking distress signal” could only occur when security codes were entered near-simultaneously on both ends. The code was listed.
“There has to be a way around that,” Grav said. “If the hardware can talk to Earth, any software-based restriction or block can surely be overridden. Surely?”
“In theory,” Rusev replied. “But we don’t want to talk to Morrison, and there’s nothing in here about communicating with anyone or anywhere else.”
Grav shrugged. “Not yet. There might be.”
Holly continued scrolling with a new hope, faint though it was, that Grav might have been right and that there might really have been instructions on how to reroute communications signals.
The language used in the warnings against unauthorised data transfers grew stronger as Holly read on. The reason, stated explicitly, confirmed Rusev’s comments that Morrison was paranoid about “hostile Earth-based researchers” picking up on the signals. For that very reason, transfers were only permitted at narrowly specified times during which either: A) power outages would be used to block Earth-based equipment capable of intercepting the signal, or B) such equipment would be deliberately overwhelmed by gibberish signals to mask the communication with Terradox.
Rusev nodded in a touché kind of way as she read this. “That has happened. Not for a while, but it has happened.”
A link in the troubleshooting document offered to let Holly review information about recent transfers. Bearing in mind that it seemed impossible to accidentally trigger another transfer, Rusev authorised her to click it.
As expected, the screen revealed that a data transfer had taken place the previous day. Prior to that, another had taken place on the day the group landed. No earlier transfers were displayed.
This “Transfers” screen also stated that the next was scheduled for six days in the future: day twelve, just as Dante’s primer had instructed.
“Click that,” Rusev said. “Where it says Future Transfers.”
As soon as Holly clicked the link, the starkest warning yet appeared, black text set on a harsh yellow background:
“WARNING: UNSCHEDULED DATA TRANSFER MAY CAUSE REMOTE ELIMINATION! No emergency is greater than the risk of sending an unobfuscated message to Earth. Under NO circumstances is it permissible to attempt to override these timed restrictions. Even if you have reason to believe that the existence of Terradox is under threat, make NO attempt to circumvent the outgoing data restrictions. Unapproved communication with Earth WILL place Terradox under IMMEDIATE threat. Dependant on the assessed likelihood of discovery, THE ENTIRETY OF THE TERRADOX ROMOSPHERE MAY BE REMOTELY ELIMINATED IN RESPONSE TO SUCH A VIOLATION.”
“Wow,” Robert said. No one could think of anything to add.
Whatever remote elimination entailed — be it bombs or an off switch — everyone knew that whatever it took to destroy the artificial atmosphere which was keeping them alive was already in place.
“We definitely can’t risk trying to reroute a signal,” Robert said, essentially talking to himself as everyone else stared at the alarming message on the giant screen.
“Just let this sink in for a second,” Grav then chimed in. “What are Morrison and his cronies more worried about than anything else? Terradox being revealed. It is right there in black and yellow. Big capital letters spelling it out: they would rather destroy Terradox than risk it being revealed. They would rather throw away all the work they have put into this ridiculous and incredible project than risk anyone outside of their club finding out that it exists. That is the kind of people we are dealing with here. Bona fide sociopaths.”
“The GU in its current form couldn’t survive a revelation like this,” Rusev replied. “They couldn’t survive the truth coming out that they’d created and hidden a habitable planet — or romosphere, whatever they want to call it — and wasted all these resources on it, probably public money, all the while they destroy and degrade Earth in every respect. Losing Terradox would set them back by who knows how many years. But if anyone found out about Terradox? They’d be finished.”
Almost instinctively, Holly’s finger directed the cursor to a small envelope icon. The harsh yellow light faded, replaced by a standard background with an anything-but-standard message:
“Parker -- Next T2E transfer WILL be the last. If atmos data comes through all good, evac will commence as planned and sonic geo-cleansing will begin 72 hours later, once the ark has travelled sufficient distance to evade the TREMENDOUS effects of the cleansing pulse.”
Holly gulped. “Is everyone seeing this?” She turned to look at them and saw faces contorting in horror.
“Ark?” Bo asked.
<
br /> “There’s another page,” Viola said. “Look. Click that arrow.”
The remaining few lines of the note to Dante appeared, providing context to its horrific beginning: “Earth will SEIZE its opportunity to regenerate without humanity’s leeching while our settlers SEIZE the opportunity to refine ourselves. Your inclusion has been well earned and no further duties will be required of you. -- RoMo.”
Rusev crouched to the ground, head in hands. Yury groaned and spun his chair away from the screen, turning towards the rovers which had provided a long-forgotten momentary respite of positivity and excitement just a short while earlier. Grav placed a hand on Holly’s shoulder. Viola and Robert were directly behind Holly; she didn’t really want to see their expressions.
“I don’t get it,” Bo said, his voice unusually resonant in the silence. “What’s going on?”
Holly considered how to say it. There was no easy way, that was for sure. As she turned to Bo, Viola saved her the trouble.
The girl crouched down to her brother’s height; there may only have been six years between them, but at times like this Bo’s stunted growth and Viola’s long legs made them look a generation apart. “If we do the data transfer in six days,” she said, talking very softly, “Morrison and his people will abandon Earth and everyone left behind will die.”
“So we just won’t do it, then,” he said. “Right, Dad? Right, Holly? We’re not going to let all of those people die.”
“Bo,” Viola whispered, holding both of his shoulders and staring into his eyes. “If we don’t do the transfer, we all die.”
fifty-eight
The group faced a horrifying choice: doom themselves, or doom the entire population of Earth.
If the next data transfer didn’t go through at the scheduled time, poison gas would destroy all human life on Terradox. And if the transfer did go through, a “tremendous” sonic pulse would destroy all human life on Earth.
“If we save ourselves, they’re still coming,” Rusev said. “We would only be delaying the inevitable.”
Robert’s head shot towards her, like a prey animal reacting to the sound of a twig snapping underfoot. “And if we sacrifice ourselves, they’re still coming! Read the message: all we’d be doing is delaying their evacuation and ‘cleansing pulse’… we wouldn’t be preventing anything.”
“We can hide,” Grav suggested, largely ignoring the two previous comments and speaking in a defiant and angry tone while the majority of the bunker’s occupants were overcome with dread and helplessness. “If we do what we have to do to survive the next week, we can hide until they arrive and then catch them by surprise.”
Holly closed her eyes tightly and sighed. “Grav… there are seven of us. Two kids, two seniors, Robert… and us.”
“Holly is right,” Yury interjected. “There are seven of us. We are weighing seven lives against four billion. There is no debate. If we act to save Earth, any number of things could torpedo Morrison’s plan before his next launch window. This is not a time for selfishness.”
“That’s not at all what I was getting at,” Holly replied, snapping at him with an uncharacteristic glare. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“But you’re right that there’s no debate,” Robert said, addressing Yury in an even firmer tone than Holly had seconds earlier. “Because if you think I’m going to watch my children die to satisfy your sense of goddamn utilitarian ethics…” he trailed off. “I’m with Grav: we keep ourselves alive now and worry about later when it comes. At least we’ll have a later.”
“For how long?” Yury pushed.
“Enough!” Holly yelled. “Everyone just shut up. Turning against each other isn’t going to help.”
More than any of the others, Holly knew how quickly a group dynamic could breakdown and turn sour — even deadly — when hopelessness struck. This lose/lose situation was a whole lot more real than the one she’d faced when she and her former colleagues at Morrison Astronautics were tricked into believing they were utterly stranded on a barren planet, and all-too-familiar cracks were already appearing in her current group’s previously united makeup.
“I’m going to talk to Dante,” she said. “Robert, I want you to stay here so I know that no one is going to make any unilateral decisions to begin any data transfers.” Holly knew she risked offending Yury with this inference, but she didn’t have time to worry about anyone’s feelings.
“I can do that,” Grav offered. “Robert, take your kids to bed.”
Robert nodded. His body language screamed “broken man”, but his expression remained as stoic as he could muster. Holly understood why he trusted Grav; it wasn’t simply a case of trusting him or taking his word, but rather a realisation of the self-evident fact that Grav would never surrender to Roger Morrison or anyone else.
“I’m leaving, anyway,” Yury said. If he was hurt or angered by their implications, he hid it well.
Grav shrugged. “I am still staying.”
Rusev shook her head at Grav, angered by his tone. She bit her lip and turned to Viola and Bo. “Goodnight,” she said.
“’Night,” they both replied, meekly and automatically.
Yury and Rusev left the bunker without another word.
Grav gave Bo a light punch on the arm. “Get some sleep, huh? We will all be thinking more clearly in the morning.”
“You should close the roof,” Bo said, pointing up to the open section above the rovers. “It’s going to get colder.”
“Always thinking,” Grav said, ruffling Bo’s hair before walking over to the button which controlled the roof’s opening and closing mechanism.
Holly had never seen this gentle side of Grav before the crash, but he wore it well. “I’ll be back later,” she said.
Grav raised a half-hearted thumb.
Robert, Viola and Bo filed out of the bunker.
“Fucking Morrison,” Grav muttered.
Holly paused at the door for a few seconds then stepped outside and closed it.
Fucking Morrison.
On the way back to the extension, guided by flashlights to assist the night’s brilliant stars, Robert moved close enough to Holly to speak without the children hearing.
“If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have said there was literally nothing I would put past Morrison,” he said. “At Olivia’s funeral, he shook my hand and looked in my eyes and told me he was sorry for our loss. And if I hadn’t already known beyond reasonable doubt that his orders had caused our loss, I would have believed him. Stopping myself from lashing out that day is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I did it because my children would have been in immediate danger if he had the slightest clue that I knew he was behind it.”
“He’s a monster,” Holly said.
“Right. But like I said, I thought there was nothing I’d put past him. But this? A literal Reset? Using this place as a refuge while he cleanses Earth? That’s not just inhuman… it’s demonic.”
Demonic wasn’t a word Holly’s mind would have naturally gravitated towards, but she could hardly disagree with it.
“The irony is almost too painful to bear,” Robert went on. “I forced my children to flee a planet Morrison controlled, and in the end I brought them to a planet he built. We’re in more danger here than we ever were on Earth. Whatever danger we were in at home, we were never the touch of a button away from being fumigated like vermin.”
“If we hadn’t landed here, his demented ‘cleansing pulse’ would have gone ahead and this time next week you wouldn’t have been alive enough to wonder what if,” Holly replied. She sympathised with Robert, but no one had any time for regrets. “But if we focus on what matters, it’s obvious that Dante must know something else that can help us. He has to know something.”
Robert replied flatly: “Give me five minutes and we’ll find out.”
“Let me try reasoning with him first. As long as we can assume that he doesn’t want to die, there must be some scope for reason.”
<
br /> “I don’t like assumptions,” Robert said. He moved slightly away from Holly again, towards the children, indicating that the conversation was over.
When they all reached the extension, Holly once again approached Robert and repeated her request for a chance to reason with Dante before he progressed to other methods. It was less of a request than a courtesy — Holly was in charge, when it came down to it — but Robert agreed and walked past Dante’s makeshift holding cell towards the bedroom he shared with his son.
“I want to come with you,” Viola said, speaking her first words for a long time. The statement was firm and plain; Holly saw no reason to dismiss it.
Dante was lying awake on the bed, evidently past the worst of his thorn-induced difficulties. His head turned towards Holly and Viola when he heard them enter, but he quickly returned his gaze to the ceiling.
“We know everything,” Holly said. “Grav found the primer and we’ve been inside the computer system. We saw the note Morrison wrote after your last data transfer. We know the choice we have.”
Dante coughed twice and sat up gingerly, still feeling the after effects of the antidote. “So you know there’s no way out of what’s coming? You know there’s no right answer?”
“If we die, you die,” Viola said.
As a demented grin spread across Dante’s face, Holly began to think Robert was right and that reason and rationality might be too much to expect.
Dante looked directly at Holly. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? You already proved you can take multiple lives to save your own. The question is: can you do the opposite?”
fifty-nine
“You did this for a ticket to Terradox,” Holly said, trying one last time to reason with Dante. “Right? The only way to survive was to defect, because Morrison’s plan is to wipe out everyone on Earth and then — presumably, since he wants Rusev alive — to make his move against the station. But if you just lie there and smile to yourself about how dead the rest of us are, what good is that going to do you? What good will it do you when we don’t initiate the next transfer and he poisons the atmosphere? You’re a pawn, Dante. He’s using you.”
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