Magic Man Charlie

by Scott Baron

  Ara felt herself relax. Cal was a good person, even if his mind was made of circuitry rather than flesh, and she trusted him. And so, with the magical upload secure and safe, her two pupils headed out to save their friends.

  Miles beneath the surface of the ocean, the loop tube dropped deeper and deeper as Cal and the others made minor adjustments as the car sped toward its destination. The problem was the entire system had been designed for hypersonic transit, a vacuum in the tube allowing frictionless travel at ultra-high speeds.

  Now, with passengers not only needing air once they stepped out of the car, but also requiring the vehicle to stop where no stop was intended, the AIs found themselves forced to do something rather uncomfortable for machines who lived in a world of mathematical precision.

  They had to guess.

  Arriving within a few hundred meters of the target was a given––they were supercomputers, after all––but given the nature of the mission the two women and their assisting team were about to carry out, every additional step outside the safety of the loop tube was one more chance for catastrophe.

  They were cutting it awfully close, so far as the AIs had been able to tell. Given the size of the sub and the length of time it had been without power, they estimated they’d be running very low on oxygen by now. Charlie and Leila would likely be delirious from the tainted air and unable to flee the doomed sub once the hull was breached.

  That’s where the cyborgs came in.

  A small team ready to assist in any way possible, but also knowing that they may simply need to get out of the way if that was what was required. As for the cybernetic crew of the craft, they would undoubtedly be able to self-rescue once the hull was opened with the portable plasma cutter Rika had tucked into her pack.

  It was a marvel of technology to the woman from the past. Where her ship had possessed a similar tool, it had been many times larger, and required enormous tanks of compressed gasses in order to function. This cutter, however, was light, portable, and for simpler types of cuts, was able to separate the required gasses out of the atmosphere around it.

  The sub’s hull would cut like butter. Even a military-grade ship could not withstand the fierce heat of the plasma. But cutting into the advanced naval vessel was the easy part. The hard part was going to be getting there.

  The plan was for Rika to cast the first spell, creating a sort of force field against the wall of the tube and beyond. Ara had explained to them that the spell she was providing them was not constrained by the metal in their way, and an air pocket would form outside of the loop tube as well as within. If all went according to plan, when they cut their way out, they would be safely able to step out onto the sea floor.

  From there, the two would leapfrog spells, creating an overlapping passageway of air. A magical tunnel leading to the sunken submarine. The sheer quantity of magic required was staggering, and no one person would have been able to maintain the spell.

  But with the two of them, as soon as one spell failed, the other would pick up the slack while a new overlap was cast. And quickly. Ara estimated they would have less than one minute before each casting would succumb to the pressures of the deep.

  It would be a run to the sub. They only hoped the seabed was firm and not boot-sucking sand. For the heavier cyborgs, that could prove a deadly obstacle if their feet began sinking in, bogging them down.

  But that was intel they simply did not have, so they would just have to go as-is and let the cards fall where they may. As the loop tube car began to slow its descent, Ripley and Rika shared a nervous smile.

  This was it. Go time.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  A subtle wave of fear, adrenaline, and magic washed over Ripley as she crawled out of the emergency exit panel of the loop tube car and stepped onto the empty track. As far as the eye could see, the tunnel stretched out into the distance in either direction.

  Where she stood was just a tiny speck on the map of a network spanning the entire globe. And that speck had been reached with near pinpoint accuracy by the greatest AI minds on the planet.

  “You should be within twenty meters of the target location,” Cal informed them, his voice strangely echoey over the tunnel’s emergency intercom system. “The automatic breach-sealing locks are currently on override. So long as you prevent water from entering the tunnel, the hole you create will not trigger them.”

  “And if water does get in?” Rika asked, shouldering the small backpack with the plasma cutter in it.

  “Then we will not be able to bypass the hardwired safeties, and the tunnel will seal.”

  “Which would suck,” Ripley noted. “So let’s avoid that, ’kay?”

  “You got it, Rip. Teamwork makes the dream work, right? Every forty seconds we replenish the bubble covering the breach. The overlapping time should be enough to prevent any leakage.”

  “Right. Just like we practiced.”

  Rika turned her attention to the cyborgs exiting the car. “Okay, Cal. Everyone’s clear. Pull the car back to the cut-off point.”

  It was part of the safety plan. Just in case the safeties triggered prematurely––but with no water in the tunnel––the AIs would be able to release them via the onboard relay on the car. But it had to be outside the sealed section, and sending a new car would simply take too long in an emergency situation.

  “Moving the car,” Cal confirmed, the transit vehicle backing up fifty meters to the exact line of the massive hydraulic seal built into the walls of the tunnel.

  “Okay, let’s do this. You ready?” Rika asked, rolling her shoulders more out of habit than actual tension in her neck.

  “Yup,” Ripley replied.

  “And you guys?”

  “We are,” the nearest cyborg replied. “But are you sure you don’t want one of us to carry the cutter? We don’t fatigue like you do. No offense.”

  “None taken. And thanks for the offer, but if I get winded running a couple hundred meters with this much adrenaline in my system, then I really need to rethink my cardio regimen. And besides, you guys weigh a lot more than we do. Just in case you get stuck on the way out, it’d take too much time to circle around to swap packs.”

  “Understood,” the artificial man replied. “We will keep pace just behind you and stay ready to assist in the breach and rescue once we reach the submarine’s hull.”

  Rika gave him a little nod, then turned her attention to her human counterpart as she pulled the cutter from her pack. “You ready, Rip?”

  “Already casting,” the teen replied, the heavy konuses on her wrists faintly glowing as she created the first force bubble protecting their segment of the tube.

  “Copy that. Protect your eyes,” Rika said, dropping her goggles in place as she fired up the plasma cutter.

  The device hummed in her hands as she adjusted the cutting edge, immediately setting the flame to the metal wall, wasting no time. Ripley could hold that portion of the spell for a minute or so. And the cut needed to be completed before they had to swap out.

  Rika worked fast, her practice on shore paying off as she sliced a person-size hole in just under thirty seconds, leaving plenty of time for her to cast her own spell. Rika then shouldered the magical load, while Ripley re-packed the rapidly cooling cutter into its heat-proof box and slid it into its backpack.

  “Got it. Let’s go!”

  The cybernetic component of the team wasted no time, the first kicking out the panel and jumping out onto the seabed, pulling the piece of metal aside while the others scrambled to join him. They then slid the section back into the tube where it would be standing by, ready to weld back into place when they returned.

  “Amazing,” one of the other cybernetic men said in awe as he took in the sight.

  All around them a perfectly clear force field held the crushing waters back. It was like standing inside a crystal ball. Only, one where the world outside could kill them in a flash if the shell gave way.

  The two magic-wielders tapped into
the new spells embedded in their minds as naturally as if they’d known them their whole lives. Ara’s gift was working perfectly.

  They cast together, rapidly overlapping their spells as they ran forward, charging in the direction of the dark shape looming in the inky waters, barely visible, despite the massive, million lumen lights their cybernetic team were aiming ahead of them, the beams startling the denizens of the ultra-deep.

  “I see it,” Ripley said, her sharp eyes making out their target.

  “Toward the front,” Rika called out as she refreshed the bubble protecting their loop tube escape route.

  “Got it,” Ripley replied, shifting course slightly as she cast the next section of the spell.

  The cyborgs were in luck. The seabed happened to be atop a section of hard stone, providing a firm base for the layers of sand and sediment. At that depth the pressure had compressed it all into a surprisingly walkable surface.

  Of course, at that depth it could also crush their entire team in a heartbeat.

  The spell, however, was working perfectly. Ara had thought to put to clever use what was essentially a reversal of a variety of the boarding spell Charlie had used back in his pirating days. The spell would create a passable tunnel when connecting ships in the vacuum of space, fighting the powerful forces trying to suck the air out of it.

  Now, on the bottom of the sea, the inverted spell was pushing outward rather than pulling inward, fighting the ocean’s full weight. It was inspired in its design, but there was little room for error. So far, however, the neophyte spell casters were doing an admirable job.

  The submarine’s mass was growing closer, and they were making good time, casting in rapid succession. And in just another minute or two, they’d finally have an answer to their most pressing question.

  Were their friends were still alive?

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Charlie and Leila drifted in and out of consciousness as they lay on the floor of the sub wrapped in blankets and each other’s arms. They’d been submerged a long, long time without the benefit of the craft’s CO2 scrubbers to replenish their breathable air.

  The resulting hypoxia had left them lethargic, their brains not fully functioning, as they were starved for oxygen. They were breathing, but the dank, stale air contained only a small percentage of the vital gas needed for life. With such a low partial pressure, unconsciousness, seizure, and death were all but inevitable in short order.

  They had stayed calm, whispering the important things they needed to say to each other well before the air had begun to thin. After that, there was little to do but hold onto one another and wait. Charlie just hoped it would be painless.

  The hallucinations had kicked in several hours prior as their minds began entering a waking dream state. Charlie had thought he saw actual pink elephants for a moment. Something he would have probably found amusing in any other circumstance. And Leila had been talking to Baloo, hallucinating her fur baby’s comforting presence.

  But Baloo was frozen, trapped in stasis mid-hunt somewhere in the hills near their home. And there were definitely no pink elephants on board. For one, they didn’t exist. And if they did, there was simply no way one could have ever fit into the tight confines of the submarine.

  Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock.

  “Shave and a Haircut” rang out on the hull.

  Charlie was roused by the familiar––yet unexpected–sound. “Did you hear that?” he asked, sitting up, propped on his elbow.

  “Hear what?” Leila slurred.

  “Uh, never mind. Just the pressure on the hull,” he said, slumping back to the deck.

  Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock.

  I could have sworn I just heard it again, Charlie mused in the barely alert corner of his mind.

  The cyborgs, though covered in living flesh, had no such need for oxygen to function, and Captain Watkins’s boot-falls rang out as she came racing forward into the compartment. Wrench in hand, she banged out a quick reply.

  Knock, knock.

  “Wait, you heard that?” Charlie said, forcing his eyes open.

  “You bet your lily-white ass I did,” Watkins said. “There’s someone out there.”

  Defying his oxygen-starved body’s wishes, Charlie forced himself up onto his elbows again, just in time to see sparks begin to flash through the hull.

  “Protect your eyes,” Watkins said, pushing him over, facing away from the blinding light.

  “But we’ll drown,” he managed to say. Or, at least, he thought he said it. He couldn’t be entirely sure, his tongue felt so thick and unwieldy in his mouth.

  “I don’t think so.” Captain Watkins turned and shouted out down the sub’s corridor. “Crew, take up arms! All hands to me! We’ve got company!”

  Racing feet rang out on the metal deck as the rest of the crew hurried to their captain, taking up positions to repel boarders as best they could. Someone was breaching their hull, despite their depth. And no one in Earth’s navies had that sort of capability.

  The sparks quickly transcribed a large oval, the hot slag dropping off and rapidly cooling on the deck where it fell. Captain Watkins recognized the effect.

  “Plasma cutter,” she said with curiosity. “That’s Earth tech.”

  The piece of the multi-layered hull pulled free from the sub, clanging to the wet sand outside. Miraculously, water did not come flooding in. Fresh air, however, did.

  Charlie and Leila both sucked in great lungfuls of the briny air, their eyes coming back to focus as their bodies processed out the first bits of the massive carbon dioxide buildup in their tissues.

  “Hey, guys!” Ripley said, poking her head in through the hole in the bulkhead. “Damn, it is ripe in here,” she chuckled, the knot in her gut relaxing as she saw Charlie and Leila moving and still very much alive. “So, we really should go, if you’re able.”

  Charlie lurched to his feet, then promptly collapsed.

  “Carry them,” Captain Watkins ordered.

  Her cybernetic crew lifted the two struggling people and carried them to the opening.

  “Hand them to us,” the cyborgs waiting outside called out.

  Charlie and Leila were quickly passed through the opening into their waiting hands. Rika gave him a quick, tight hug then stepped back. The cyborgs were far better able to carry his weight, and besides, she needed to cast the next spell.

  “Holy shit,” Charlie managed to say, marveling at the wall of magic keeping the waters at bay. “You did this?”

  “We both did,” she replied, nodding to Ripley.

  “Wait, since when does she know magic?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “Am I still hallucinating?”

  “Long story, and no time for it right now. Can you walk?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “But I’ll try.”

  The cyborgs lowered his feet to the sand, and for just a moment he felt the marvel of standing on the bottom of the sea. Then he passed out. Leila, likewise, slipped into unconsciousness.

  “What’s happening to them?” Ripley asked, alarmed.

  “Focus, Rip. You’ve got to cast next.”

  “I know. But what’s going on? Are they okay?”

  Captain Watkins climbed through the hole in her ship with the rest of her crew, jumping down to the sand beside them. “They were hypoxic,” she informed them. “They’ll be okay. This is just an effect from the sudden spike in oxygen after breathing high concentrations of carbon dioxide for so long. The increase in the partial pressure of O2 can do that.”

  “Got it,” Rika said. “You heard her. We carry them, guys.”

  The cyborgs hefted the man and his queen over their shoulders, the entire team taking off at a quick run down the shimmering, magical tunnel. Small rivulets of water were beginning to trickle in. Not much, but a little. But it was enough to cause great alarm in the two casters.

  “They’re failing,” Ripley said after casting the next overlap and reinforcing the bubble over the tube with an
extra layer for good measure. They couldn’t afford any water getting in there. Not until they were well clear.

  “We’re pushing the envelope,” Rika replied, glancing at her chrono. “Double-time it everyone! We’ve gotta move!”

  The cyborgs reacted immediately, increasing their pace, running as fast as the two casters could form their protective tunnel ahead of them. The loop tube was visible, a giant worm of steel stretching out across the ocean floor.

  “Almost there,” Rika said, the effort of maintaining the spell taking its toll.

  A trio of cyborgs hurried through the opening in the tube, quickly taking the unconscious burden from their counterparts still outside on the seabed. They then took off running, racing the fifty meters to the waiting loop tube car.

  Rika and Ripley had given up on their carefully timed overlap schedule, both of them growing weaker by the minute. Instead, they cast back-to-back, using the last dregs of the magic in their konuses to maintain the bubble over the section of loop tube.

  “There’s not going to be enough time to weld the piece back into place,” Rika called out. “We need to make a run for it.”

  “But the water will catch us,” Ripley said, fear thick in her voice.

  “No it won’t,” Rika replied, grim determination in her eyes. “We’re going to make it. Now run!”

  The two took off as fast as their exhausted legs would carry them, each casting with the last of their might, barely maintaining the bubble. Rika had dumped the plasma cutter the moment they entered the tube, but nevertheless felt as if she were running through tar. Ripley was just as exhausted, if not more.

  And then she tripped, going down hard on the cold metal floor.