Crystal Escape

by Doug J. Cooper

  “We’ll be there one day before Lazura, which is enough time to recover and stash the fuel-stacks. But we’ll need local help, and I’m not sure that a day is enough time to get their buy-in. People like to mull things over and then sleep on it. We’re strangers, and it’s a big ask.”

  “We’ll need something they want,” said Sid. “I assume they like money?”

  Criss nodded. “They have their own way of doing things, but money should turn their heads.”

  As he spoke, Criss linked to Aurora and the two-gen crystal controlling the drives. The ready monitor for both pods showed the fuel level at 94 percent capacity—almost full. He worked down into the internals, exposing the stack configuration so he could understand how best to unload the drives.

  He stopped short when the tap feed signals showed null values. Not just one or two, but all forty of the taps showed zero presence of fuel.

  Criss dove into forensic mode, analyzing the raw data from the sensors themselves.

  As the enormity of the problem sank in, he told Sid his discovery. “The fuel is gone. These pods are empty.”

  Chapter 14

  Juice’s mind raced as the gang of synbods dragged MacMac from his office. When one of them called from the lift with the threat “cooperate or else,” her forearms filled with goose bumps.

  Chase and Justin had shifted into a protective stance, which was what Juice expected. What she didn’t expect, what she’d never experienced in all her years of working with synbods every day, was having one of them make her feel fear. Her synbods should never threaten a human.

  When the door to MacMac’s office closed, she sat down to collect herself. “What do you think they’ll do to him?”

  “I don’t know,” Cheryl said as she moved to MacMac’s couch and activated his interface.

  “And where’s Criss? Why isn’t he here yet?”

  “I don’t know that, either.” She tapped and swiped. “I do think my privacy shield is compromised, so we need to be careful about what we say.”

  Juice sat next to Cheryl on the couch and watched her tap and swipe with no apparent progress or success.

  “What are you trying to do?”

  “I want a diagram of the island,” said Cheryl.

  When she spoke, a schematic of Vivo displayed as an image in front of them.

  “It looks like voice is the way to go here.” Juice spoke to the image. “Show us where we are.”

  A small red light lit near the top of the office tower in the image.

  “Where are the guest rooms?”

  A building out near the perimeter on the main deck glowed pink.

  “Look down here,” said Cheryl, her hand swooping near the bottom of the floating schematic. “Everything below the main deck is blurred. To me that says we’re welcome to explore up top but down below is off limits.”

  “Or just none of our business.”

  They viewed the different buildings on the main level, taking time to learn what was what and to identify a good spot to gather the guests.

  On impulse, Juice said, “Show us where MacMac is.”

  The single light that showed their location became two. Moments later, the door out to the lobby opened, and Juice turned to look.

  A girl in her early teens stood framed in the opening. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with tears, and she wore a huge shirt that hung off one shoulder, the shirttail reaching her calves.

  “Help me,” she bleated.

  MacMac moved in behind the girl, shirtless and scowling.

  Jumping from the couch, Juice strode across the room, the fury in her voice unmistakable. “What have you done to her?” She pointed at MacMac and issued a command to Chase and Justin. “Restrain him.”

  When she reached the girl, she put an arm around her and coaxed her inside. “Come on, hon. It’s okay.”

  Snuffling, Willow allowed Juice to lead her into the room.

  Joining them, Cheryl offered a different interpretation. “Lazura did this?”

  MacMac nodded, then looked at Chase and Justin. “Get these bastards away from me.”

  Cheryl signaled them back, and MacMac moved across the room to a dressing nook at the far wall. He activated a privacy shield, and his appearance faded to a blur.

  “She’s playing hardball, no question about it,” he said.

  The shield dropped moments later to reveal him in a shirt and wiping his face with a towel. Looking at Juice, he tilted his head behind him. “My wife has some clothes back here. Maybe you can help Willow find something more appropriate?”

  Juice nodded and guided the young girl to the nook. Activating the privacy shield, she asked, “Your name is Willow?”

  She nodded. “Willow Inverness.”

  “What happened to you? Can you talk about it?”

  Willow hugged herself and started to cry. Juice put an arm over her shoulders. “It’s all right. You’re safe with us.” Picking through the meager selection of clothes, she asked, “Who hurt you?”

  “I don’t know. Awful people. The woman was especially mean. Can I go back to my mom? Please?”

  “Of course. I’ll take you myself. Let’s get you cleaned up a bit first, though. Okay?”

  Juice handed Willow a simple top that, while still too large, came closer to fitting her small frame. As she changed, Juice moistened a hand cloth and wiped Willow’s face, then used her fingers to adjust Willow’s hair. “Much better.”

  Dropping the privacy shield, Juice found Cheryl and MacMac sitting next to each other on the couch. As Cheryl fired questions about Vivo, MacMac responded by pointing to different displays.

  “I’d like to bring Willow back to her folks,” Juice said to them.

  MacMac looked at her and then Willow. “Thanks for that. She’s a brave lassie.” He tapped and swiped the air in front of him. “When you get outside, follow the green arrows. They’ll take you to her door.”

  “Wait,” said Cheryl. “I’m not comfortable having you out there.”

  “We just saw that it’s not safe here either,” said Juice. “And we need to get involved with the other guests to keep Lazura at bay.”

  Cheryl bit her lip as she thought. “Take Justin with you?”

  Juice motioned to Justin. As he stepped forward, Willow shrank back.

  “He’s like the ones that hurt me.”

  “He won’t touch you,” said Juice, walking to the door. “I promise.”

  On the lift, Juice watched the first glow of sunrise peek over the projected image of a striking horizon. Looking down, she saw lush green bushes lining the walkways, with patches of colored flowers reflecting the morning light.

  Juice felt Willow pressing against her and glanced at the girl. It took a moment, but she realized Willow was trying to edge away from Justin by squeezing herself between Juice and the lift wall. The lift door opened, and when they exited out to the ground-floor lobby, Juice made a judgment call she suspected Cheryl would disagree with. “Justin, wait for me here.”

  She and Willow stepped from the office tower and into the vivid outdoor world projected under Vivo’s dome. Green arrows led them to a cart parked along a garden lane. They climbed in and the cart engaged, carrying them past a row of shops and restaurants just coming to life for the day.

  Juice caught a whiff of warm, yeasty bread and scanned the storefronts, her eyes stopping on the store placard for the Homemade Bake Shoppe. “I love that smell,” she said, breathing in through her nose to savor the delicious scent as she sought to engage Willow.

  At the end of the row of shops, the cart drove through a spectacular topiary garden. A menagerie of animal statues—rhinos, bears, huge rabbits, and more—had been shaped and trimmed from a stand of bushes lush with tiny leaves.

  “They held me in front of that man and shocked me with this horrible…thing,” Willow whispered. “It hurt so much.” She wrapped her arms across her stomach.

  “In front of what man? MacMac?”

  Willow n
odded.

  Juice put a hand on Willow’s arm to comfort her. “Do you know why?”

  “They asked him questions about something I couldn’t follow.”

  “Did he tell them what they wanted to know?”

  Looking down at her hands, Willow nodded. “Thankfully. He did it to stop them from hurting me more.”

  Good for MacMac, she thought, feeling sheepish about her assumption of his behavior.

  “What’s happening? My mom says it’s an earthquake. My grandma says it’s terrorists.”

  Juice hesitated, wondering if the truth was the right answer at this moment. No, sweetie, the island is now a spaceship, an alien AI has kidnapped us and is taking us to its distant home world, and you’ll be your grandmother’s age by the time we get there.

  She lied. “It’s some of both. After the earthquake, looters on the mainland started taking advantage, and law enforcement is confronting them. It may be a while before everything is settled, but we’re safe here.”

  “It doesn’t feel safe. Not at all.”

  Before her lie could unravel, Juice changed subjects. “Where are you from?”

  “We’re from Oregon, just outside Portland. My mom’s in advertising, and my grandma performs in local theater productions.”

  Juice kept the conversation light, and soon the cart stopped outside a gorgeous Victorian building with a hand-painted sign declaring it the Vivo Hotel. Green arrows directed them up the steps.

  “Does this look familiar?”

  “No.”

  “Not to me either.”

  They followed the lights into a cozy lobby where two couples were having an animated conversation with an Attendant synbod. The conversation continued unabated as they crossed the lobby and moved into the corridor on the far side. Green arrows directed them down its length.

  “You’re thinking of not telling your mom all the details,” said Juice. “Am I right?”

  Willow didn’t answer.

  “If you have a good relationship with her, tell her everything. She won’t blame you, and it will be good for you to share and unburden yourself. It helps you process it all.” Juice shrugged. “If not her, then talk to your grandma, but don’t go it alone.”

  They reached the door and Willow asked, “Will you come in?”

  Juice hesitated. She felt awkward around strangers, and this situation promised to be especially uncomfortable. “Sure, but just for a minute. I have to get back.”

  It took Juice longer than she wanted to extricate herself. The women’s wailing and pointed questions added to her discomfort and the time it took before she could leave. Finally, with a hug for Willow and a promise to check on her later, Juice escaped into the hallway.

  As she worked her way back to the cart, she called Justin, still waiting in the office lobby, and told him to hustle down to meet her near the hotel. Then she left a message for Cheryl. “Willow is home, and I’m going for a run around the perimeter path. I should be back in an hour.”

  Running was Juice’s therapy. She ran every day, using the time to sort through her feelings, solve the problems of the day, and regain her emotional center. Given all that had happened—and all that was happening—she needed this time of reflection more than ever.

  Working through her warmup routine in front of the hotel, she was on her second set of stomach crunches when an older couple came over to talk.

  “Do you know what all the ruckus is about?” asked the man.

  “I heard earthquakes and looters.” Juice stuck with her original story, then added a twist. “I think there’s going to be an all-guests meeting sometime this afternoon, and that’s the place to bring your questions. Hopefully, they’ll make an announcement about it soon.”

  As the couple walked away, she looked at her feet and thought about her favorite running shoes packed in her suitcase, presumably somewhere inside the hotel. The shoes she had on now were an older pair of the same brand, and she decided they’d suffice for a light workout.

  Starting at a slow pace, she jogged back down the garden lane until she reached an intersection. Once there, she jogged in a small circle, continuing to warm her muscles while she waited. When she saw Justin loping toward her, she turned and started toward the dome wall, quickening her pace when she heard the whap-whap of his humanoid feet draw alongside her.

  “We’re headed to the perimeter path,” Juice told him, her voice choppy from the rhythmic motion of running.

  Up ahead, the lane split into three ramps that weaved around and through each other in a Seussian fashion and descended to a broad trackway. The perimeter path, hovering around Vivo like the rings of Saturn, was perfect for adventure walks, jogging, biking, and scooter rides, at least according to the travel literature she’d read.

  She picked the middle ramp and followed it around and down. As she progressed along the looping path, the magnificent sights, sounds, and smells of Vivo commanded her attention. Struggling to stay on task, she asked Justin, “We’re in the residential district. If we continue left, what comes next?”

  “As we loop around,” said Justin, “the open theater comes next, then a section of buildings with the stage sets, then back here to the guest hotel. At this pace, it will take about ten minutes to complete a lap.”

  In her first moments on the perimeter path, an image of a smiling young man—similar in appeal to Justin—appeared hovering next to her. “Hello, Dr. Tallette. I’m Help.”

  Juice spoke with Help for less than a minute, just long enough to understand the major pathway features, then she dismissed him, choosing to figure it out as she went.

  “Solitude.” Her first command was to create the illusion that she and Justin were alone. The few others on the pathway faded and a narrow lane appeared on the ground in front of her, the implied promise being that if she stayed on it, she wouldn’t have to worry about crashing into other people.

  “Majestic vistas,” she called next, sucking in her breath at Vivo’s response. All of her senses registered that she was now running on a path along the rim of the Grand Canyon. A hot breeze whistled as it rose up over the cliff face; the valley floor looked arid and brown everywhere except for growth near the river that wended down its length. The far canyon wall—tall, craggy, with alternating brownish-red and sand-colored layers—cast a diagonal shadow across it all.

  Enthralled by the view, she let the splendor become the focus of her attention, helping her push her worries and fears into the background.

  After a few minutes, the scene changed to a forested mountain crest, one of a long chain of hills that overlooked a substantial waterway. As big as a lake but long like a channel, it reminded her of a fjord, perhaps in Norway. Next came a breathtaking waterfall, then an elevated view across a thick jungle canopy, and after that, a view she recognized as Half Dome in Yosemite Park.

  She felt less anxious after her run, and her calm continued as she walked with Justin back to the office tower. Along the way, she tried to imagine actions they might take to end this craziness should they have to do it on their own. Lazura has a fraction of Criss’s capability, so we should be able to best her.

  By the time they reached the office tower, her mind swirled with partially formed ideas. She led Justin onto the lift and, when the door closed, she acted on impulse. “Down one.”

  When the lift accepted her command and started to descend, she couldn’t decide whether to be thrilled or scared. The doors opened to a huge industrial space, and she held back, staying in the shadows of the lift cabin.

  “Whoa,” she whispered to Justin.

  Unlike the guest deck with its glitz and glamour, this place projected commotion. The rumble and buzz of machines reached her from different directions across the vast open space. The collection of sounds confirmed activity on the floor, but she couldn’t see any people or synbods moving about.

  Poking her head out of the lift cabin, she looked left and then right, freezing when she saw a cart with four synbods in sky-blue servi
ce uniforms parked right there, not ten paces away.

  Ducking back inside the lift, she bumped into Justin and shushed him even though he hadn’t made a noise. She strained to hear, ready to command the lift door to close if they approached. When nothing happened—no sounds, no voices, no movement—she peeked again.

  This time she could tell they were immobile. She understood why when she saw that one had damage to his forehead near his right temple. Feeling more confident, she leaned out the door and studied them as a group.

  Two other synbods had the identical wound. Tiptoeing, she crept out of the lift and leaned closer to confirm that the fourth synbod had the same injury.

  She recognized the wound—denial defense. Criss was here. The thought lifted her spirits, and she twirled in place, looking for him as if he might be standing nearby.

  They’d developed the defense years earlier when Criss had expressed a worry. “Suppose I’m distracted and Lazura somehow turns one of your synbods against you.”

  “You mean here?” she’d asked, pointing at the desk. They’d been sitting in her work office at the time, long before a vacation on Vivo was even a thought.

  “I mean anywhere. You should have a way to disable it and deny her that advantage, a command she can’t reverse by giving a different command.”

  After much discussion, they’d added a dozen ways to disable a synbod by command. One of Juice’s ideas had been a precise blow on the forehead near the right temple that would power down a synbod like flipping a switch.

  As she inspected the disabled synbods in the cart, Juice was not aware of the irony—that it was Lazura who’d commanded these Attendants to dive from a perch and disable themselves to deny Criss access.

  But in the end, that didn’t matter. A feature of the denial defense was to take synbods out of action in the present but keep them viable for the future. Someone knowledgeable and with the proper credentials could reanimate these four.

  Someone like Juice.

  Glancing around to confirm that no one else was present, she threw caution to the wind. “C’mon,” she commanded Justin. “Help me lean them forward.”