Sandberg stepped forward, looked into the armory, and saw that all of the life pods had jettisoned. “At least they’ll have hope,” she said.
Whatever hope they might have felt was brief, terminated by nuclear explosions erupting from the disguised payloads aboard each of the Comet interceptors inside Charger’s beat boat hangar.
Chapter 6
Play Dreamtime Again
After his conversation with Leo and Ariel, Maxo left them on Candy Lady’s drive deck, Dreamtime playing again, and headed toward the bridge. He walked across the concourse, past the airlock that led to the tow bar with the eight Venusian pod gliders, and into the elevator. He watched the doors close, then lingered and contemplated his talk with Leo and Ariel.
“Making this about a promotion isn’t right,” Leo had said to him.
“Your purpose is not about what rank you achieve,” Ariel had added, “it’s about how you make the solar system a little better than when you came into it.”
While speaking with the two young Digis, concerned they were beginning to doubt his leadership abilities, he sent Never Better: 10 Ways to Get Ahead in Life to their compu-pads and encouraged them to read or listen to it.
“What did Alice say to upset you?” Ariel asked. “She really felt bad about it.”
Maxo explained Alice must have been referring to telling him, “There was more to life than the CLF.”
“Maybe she meant there’s something bigger out there,” Leo had said. “Something bigger than ourselves, and even the CLF, that we can strive to be a part of.”
“Making ourselves better human beings for it,” Ariel had added, “and making life better for others, now and in the future.”
“Something bigger, like justice and equality?” Maxo had asked. “Happiness and goodness?”
Standing in the elevator, he furrowed his brow and realized just how much he had turned his life and career into a single transaction. They were two sides of the same coin, and it didn’t matter which side was up. He had never stepped back and tried to distinguish between the two. They merged and became his top priority. Everything else was secondary.
Within him, a light flickered and revealed a part of his internal, unconscious conflict. By not developing other aspects of himself, his emptiness had grown. Over the years, Maxo sensed and suffered from the deepening void, one he tried to fill with work, but that road led to a dead end. He was never better on that road, so stagnation followed.
Although a workhorse, he often filed incomplete reports, earned low training scores, arrived late to meetings, submitted incorrect procurement documents, or made dubious budget requests. He was a good patrol officer and investigator, and had earned the respect and admiration of colleagues, but as an administrator, Maxo came up short. His job fitness suffered, so he never progressed beyond the rank of detectant.
The flickering light took on a steady glow.
The years ticked by, and advancement eluded him. The lack of progress deflated his spirit and darkened his psyche. He ached enough to end the conflict by trying to take his own life in a manner which people would conclude was a tragic accident. Even in his suicide attempt, he tried to hide from the truth. Denial survived along with him though, so instead of waking up from near death to a new world, he went right back to that road. Then, when the time came to seek promotion to squad captain, he submitted his application—but after the deadline.
They didn’t stall my career, Maxo thought, I did!
“Why would the CLF turn this into some kind of test of you?” Ariel had asked during their conversation in the drive deck’s control chamber. “How does that make you feel?”
“I’d feel…denigrated. I’d feel unhappy and hurt. I’d feel betrayed.”
Because I created my own suffering.
“What does that tell you?” Leo had asked. “What would you like to do about that?”
Maxo had laughed and said, “I will let you know just as soon as I figure it out.”
The flickering light flourished into a rising spire of flame.
He punched the elevator’s button to take him to the bridge and closed his eyes. Taking in a slow, deep breath, Maxo noticed a pleasant floral aroma coming from the lilac scent emitters on the concourse. The overhead lights draped a warm coat over him. He exhaled. As his heart rate slowed and shoulders loosened, Maxo felt the weight drain from his body down through his boots and into the tufted floor panels. He felt like he was floating, buoyed by rising joy.
The elevator arrived on the bridge and its doors opened. Maxo reached into a pocket of his cargoloons and removed the packet of jerky Alice gave him. He opened it and bit into one of the pieces. He put the packet back in his pocket, stepped out of the elevator and said, “Time to return what doesn’t belong to me.”
Walking toward the raised console platform, Maxo passed Cassy and Peter at their posts and asked, “What’s our current position?”
“A puma’s leap from Mars and a bunny hop from Daedalus,” she drawled in her East Mexan accent.
“Thirty minutes to Daedalus, sir,” Peter said, laughing.
“Ah, roger that,” Maxo replied. He stepped onto the platform and looked toward the cargo control stations. Zeke was buckled into his flight seat, snoozing. Ming, wearing V.R. goggles, stood next to one of the table-top control stations practicing simulated freight loads and transfers.
Maxo didn’t see any sign of Captain Duffy. He then heard Eli fake a sneeze, so Maxo turned to look at him and saw Eli imitating a spider with his hand and tilting his head toward the briefing chamber. Maxo nodded and said, “Gesundheit, Eli.”
“Thanks, detectant,” Eli said. “Very observant and polite of you.” He winked and folded his hands, then resumed monitoring the communications control panel.
Maxo hopped off the elevated platform, walked over to Eli, then said, “Just curious, how much do you know about compu-pad connectivity?”
Eli raised his eyebrows and lowered his headset. “Do you mean connectivity with on-board systems or external interfaces?”
“Is there a difference?” Maxo asked. He then noticed Eli gasped and fluttered his eyelids. “Easy, my friend,” Maxo said, patting Eli on the shoulder. “Let’s just say I’m wondering why I’m not receiving any incoming messages on my compu-pad. It was working fine earlier, but since then, I haven’t heard so much as a beep.”
“Ah,” Eli replied. “When was ‘earlier’?”
“Right, good question.” Maxo pulled out his compu-pad and scrolled through the day’s messages. “Last one to come through was about mid-day. It was sent to me and Alice, instructing us to return to the Moon. That’s it. Nothing since then.”
“Do you have a time for that?” Eli asked. “An exact time?”
“Sure.” Maxo checked the message’s header. “Twelve-ten and thirty-seven seconds, T.S.T.”
“Okay,” Eli said. “Let me just check our data logs and compare that with your pad’s. We may be interfering with your reception. It’ll register as an external interface failure even though we are relaying your pad through our on-board systems.”
Maxo’s eyes widened. “Two questions, my friend,” he said, kneeling next to Eli. “One, weren’t your data logs baked by our F.S.-L.S. override? And two, why is my pad being relayed through Candy Lady? It runs just fine through CLF relays.”
“Baked?” Eli pursed and tapped his lips. His eyes scanned the screens in front of him. “Looking at them now, they seem fine.” He turned to Maxo and scratched his head. “When you say ‘baked,’ do you mean…” Eli smiled, then laughed. “…corrupted or deleted?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, okay. Data logs are nominal, sir. They have not been baked.”
“Thanks, Eli,” Maxo said, nodding. He stood, walked behind Eli to the adjacent flight seat and sat down. He pulled out his compu-pad, set it on the console’s countertop, and pointed at it. “Now, you were saying?”
“Just before you and the other officer came aboard,” Eli explained,
“Captain Duffy instructed me to switch your pads to run through our shipboard relay. She said she didn’t want you to experience any interruption in your communication with CLF headquarters.”
“Can you disconnect me, please?”
“Yes, in fact, I already released the other officer’s pad.” Eli looked back-and-forth at Maxo’s compu-pad and his computer displays. He scrolled through several data logs and pulled up a display of Candy Lady’s transmission routes from the time he channeled the CLF compu-pads through the ship’s relays.
“Can you do that now, please?” Maxo asked.
“Detectant,” Eli murmured, “if running your compu-pads through us was the courteous thing to do, according to Captain Duffy, wouldn’t it also have been courteous to ask you first?”
“I suppose, but let’s go ahead and cut—”
“Did she ever ask you or let you know about the relay?”
“No, but we can fix that now. Let’s cut…” Maxo stopped. He began to realize what Eli was thinking and whispered, “Belay that, Eli.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She asked you to relay our connection so she could monitor and control our communication.” Maxo glanced at the briefing chamber. The door remained closed. “So Spider could control our communication.” When he looked back at the console, he noticed Eli had plugged the compu-pad into one of the displays.
“Right, so any messages you received after the relay was activated were probably…” Eli paused to find just the right word. Chuckling and making a knitting gesture, he added, “…woven by Spider himself.”
“Uh-huh,” Maxo groaned. “The instructions to return to the Moon. Fuck!”
“Fuck!” Eli exclaimed, copying and amplifying Maxo. Heads swiveled toward them.
“As you were,” Maxo instructed, waving to Ming, Peter, and Cassy. “As you were.”
“Sorry, sir,” Eli said. “I just learned that word and have been dying to use it.”
“Not a problem, Eli.” Maxo tapped the cable plugged into his compu-pad. “Why do you need this?”
“By connecting the cable to the Trans-Holo interface,” Eli said, “I’m hoping we can track down where your pad’s transmissions are being received. Trans-Holo broadcasts go through hyper-weave…”
“Allowing messages to be sent and received instantaneously,” Maxo replied, “anywhere in the solar system.”
“In our case, Spider would know what you tried to transmit to the CLF,” Eli said, “by receiving an isolated and directed hyper-weave signal broadcast from Candy Lady.”
“And there’d be virtually no delay, half a millisecond or so, at most.” Maxo squinted and wished he’d paid more attention in tech corps lessons. “So, that sounds like a ship-to-ship call,” he said.
“Normally, hyper-weave is opportunistic,” Eli explained. “We input the desired outcome, but how we arrive there is controlled by the innate intelligence and efficiency of the universal holographic arrays based on the flow of all data within the system.”
“Uh-huh,” Maxo replied.
“Ship-to-ship, or point-to-point transmissions,” Eli said, “are mapped or routed before being sent through hyper-weave. The data and their exchanges follow this quantified route.”
“So, we should see that, right?” Maxo asked.
Eli waved both his hands over the compu-pad, like warming them over a fire, and added, “Plugging this directly into the Trans-Holo interface didn’t help me see a transmission route. There should be one if there is a direct link up with a single receiver. It’s almost as if the Quantum operating system has…”
“Has what?” Maxo asked.
“This is going to sound strange,” Eli replied.
As the smell of fresh, hot coffee wafted across the console, Maxo noticed Eli took a sip from a large, steaming mug which had just appeared in his hand. “Try me out,” Maxo remarked, “I’m getting used to strange.”
“Well,” Eli continued, “it’s almost as if the Quantum operating system has eliminated the need for a route by making it so your pad exists here and, simultaneously, elsewhere. I can’t find any sign of a hyper-weave broadcast carrying messages to and from your compu-pad. Yet, we know they’ve occurred.”
“Wait, back up for a moment,” Maxo said. “How can the pad be in two places at once?”
“It’s just a theory,” Eli stammered, “To be honest, I don’t know enough about the overall system to be sure.”
“Of course, I understand.” Maxo eyed Eli’s cup of coffee and enjoyed its aroma. “If you’re right, that is some mighty potent technology. Must be a modification of the Quantum operating system. It can’t be standard issue for F-9350s.”
“Suppose…” Eli said.
“Yes?” Maxo asked.
“Suppose a Trans-Holo malfunction caused the pad to disconnect.” Eli smiled and added, “Would it restore a connection to the CLF and cause Spider to come out of hiding?”
“I don’t see how it wouldn’t reconnect, and the CLF relays default to hyper-weave transmissions, so we could maintain instantaneous communication. As for Spider,” Maxo glanced over his shoulder toward the briefing chamber, “he is not ours to worry about.”
“How would you like to proceed, sir?” Eli asked.
“Good question, Eli.”
Maxo stood and straightened his tunic. He brushed off some lint and looked down to admire the shine on his boots. “Message the drive deck, Eli,” he said. “Ask Leo and Ariel to report to the bridge.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And you may disconnect my compu-pad from Candy Lady.”
“What about making it look like a malfunction, detectant?” Eli asked.
“No need,” Maxo replied. “We are not going to play their silly games anymore.”
“Aye, sir.” Eli unplugged the compu-pad and handed it to Maxo. “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep working on this.”
“Please do.” Cradling his pad, Maxo walked over to Peter and said, “Bring us to all-stop and work with Cassy on plotting a new course.”
Swiveling around in her flight seat, Cassy asked, “Where to sir?”
“We will be making a puma’s leap,” Maxo said, “to Mars.”
As the ship slowed from 70 million miles per hour, then stopped, Maxo felt a slight shift in the sim-grav while it adjusted to the change in momentum.
“Sir, I released your compu-pad,” Eli announced. “You should begin to see it send and receive as it updates from the last several hours.”
“Thank you, Eli.” Maxo checked the pad and watched several new messages arrive as he made his way to the elevated console platform. “Ming, do you mind waking Zeke?”
“I’ll do it,” Ariel said. She had exited the elevator with Leo and headed toward the cargo stations. “Cargoists aren’t known for their bedside manner.”
“Thank you, Ariel!” Ming replied. He removed his V.R. goggles, walked over to the elevated platform, and stood next to Leo. “How are you, Lee?” Ming asked.
“Never better,” Leo replied.
Maxo glanced down at him from the platform and chuckled. He then looked back at his compu-pad. It buzzed and flashed a red-alert banner. While he tapped the screen to acknowledge and read the message, Captain Duffy emerged from the briefing chamber and flew like a dagger across the bridge to join Maxo on the platform. She glared at Eli, who then yelled, “Fuck!”
Since the whole crew was present—and awake—at this time, more heads than earlier swiveled toward him, except for Maxo’s. “Are you getting what I’m getting, Eli?” Maxo asked. “The news about Themis?”
“I am,” Eli said. “It’s…fucking horrible.”
Maxo rubbed his head and looked around the room. He then turned to face Duffy. “Your hero is a mass murderer!”
She clenched her jaw and stared at Maxo. Her silence did not prevent her eyes from expressing a storm of contempt for him and everything that he represented.
“But I suppose you and your master already know that,” Maxo fume
d. “You and Spider will be brought to justice. And so will the Colonel.”
“Hah,” Duffy said, “I think the CLF will be a bit busy sweeping up the mess they made at Mars to get anywhere near the Colonel. That blast was their fault, you know.” She waved at Leo, signaling for him to approach. “Where have you been?” she shouted.
“Assisting Ariel on the drive deck.”
“Pfft, you work for me,” Duffy said, shaking a finger at him, “not the propulsion engineer.” She then swung her finger around the room. “You all work for me, and nobody else! I will have you punished, or worse, for not doing what I tell you to do. Bad things happen to those who don’t play along.”
Maxo looked at Eli, and watched the young Digi remove his headset and put on a thick pair of eyeglasses. He brushed aside long, brown locks from his forehead, then stood up. “I, for one,” he announced, looking at Duffy, “will not play your silly games anymore.” He sat down and scrutinized his communication control panels.
Duffy shook her head, sheathed herself into one of the platform’s flight seats, and began to read her own compu-pad.
“What happened to Themis?” Peter asked. “I have friends who work there.”
The railing around the platform creaked as Maxo leaned forward on it to answer Peter’s question. “I hope your friends survived and if not, I am so sorry,” he said. “A short time ago, two nuclear bombs exploded inside the station. The devastation is widespread. Headquarters says Themis is a total loss along with dozens of ships and thousands of personnel.”
“What?” Peter gasped.
“Why?” Cassy asked. “Why would anyone do this?”
Maxo glanced down at his compu-pad and scrolled through the official information. “The Colonel has claimed responsibility for this attack yet blames Solis et Novem and the CLF for leaving him and the colonists no other option. He has reiterated his demands for control of the shipping lanes and says he will continue to fight for the people of Mars.”
Showdown at Jupiter's Edge: A Maxo Magnaveer Adventure Page 7
