Crystal Escape

by Doug J. Cooper

  When Criss resurfaced from his trance, Sid asked, “Do you think it’s the only copy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If it is, she’s acting on the deal she struck with Cheryl, which means Juice has to be here somewhere.”

  “I hope so.” Criss began backtracking, loosening the top of his jumpsuit as he walked and securing the crystal in an inside pocket. He moved faster after that, marching past the ventilation chase and over to a maintenance shed near a stand of trees.

  Opening the shed door, he swung it back and forth, studying the motion. Then he grabbed the door at the top with both hands and, with a powerful jerk, pulled it off its hinges.

  Laying the door on the ground, Criss stepped into the shed, enabled a spooling system, and pulled a length of sturdy cord outside next to the door. He took several coils of line, and moving so fast that Sid had trouble following, he weaved a cradle around the door so while it lay flat, he could lift it from the ground using a central line connected back to the spool system.

  Holding his creation under one arm as if he were carrying a surfboard, Criss pointed at a spot on the dome wall. “Cheryl is right there.”

  Sid moved over next to him and sighted along Criss’s finger. It was farther than he could see, so he identified the corner of a building in the distance he could use as a marker. Starting in that direction, he eyed Criss’s contraption as they walked, determined not to ask.

  Then he connected and announced his conclusion. “It’s a stretcher so we can pull Cheryl back. And the others, of course.”

  At the beginning of their trek, Criss had pulled on the cord from the spool system to keep the line moving with them. A hundred paces along, however, the outward push of the spin caused their strides to lengthen and the line to start dragging itself.

  The forces increased as they progressed, their steps growing longer and longer. When Sid’s feet lifted from the ground, his grip on the cord was the only thing keeping him from tumbling toward the wall. That’s when Criss hooked Sid by the arm and hefted him inside the cradle.

  “If this was for me,” asked Sid, lying on the shed door, “why didn’t you just make a rope seat or something?”

  “Because when we reach three g’s, you’d have bent around it like a pretzel.” Criss smiled. “Not that it wouldn’t be entertaining to watch.”

  Criss used the spool system after that to control the speed of their descent to the dome wall. As the pressure increased, Sid rolled on his side so his diaphragm would not have to keep lifting the weight he felt sitting on his chest. “How high are we going?”

  “Just under three g’s. They were at three and a half at the worst of it, but the scout is making progress.”

  “I’ve been over five g’s a bunch of times.”

  “You only had to live with it for a minute or so during a controlled accel-decel sequence. They’ve been suffering for hours. It takes its toll in a different way.”

  As the dome wall loomed, Criss stopped the spool feed so the door hovered just above the translucent surface. He lowered himself until his feet touched and, pulling Sid along in what had become a record-setting rope swing, made his way along the wall. When he finally lowered the door to the dome surface, he positioned it so Sid lay face-to-face with Cheryl.

  “My hero,” she said, curled on her side, the lines around her eyes and mouth highlighting her stress. “I’d kiss you but I can’t move.”

  He reached for her hand and they interlaced fingers. While he normally would have said something goofy to try to get her to laugh, he didn’t speak, he just looked into her eyes.

  Criss gave them ten seconds to commune before moving things along. “All aboard,” he said, crouching next to Cheryl.

  Sid pulled, Criss lifted, and Cheryl crawled until she lay in the small-spoon position on the door, Sid’s long arms and legs wrapped around her as he cuddled her from behind.

  Gripping the line above the door, Criss signaled the spool system, and they started to rise. With Cheryl safe in his arms, Sid shed his mind of distractions and focused on Juice. Criss didn’t have any answers, so on the ride back, he sifted through everything he knew. By the time they escaped the powerful g forces and stood together near the shed, he struggled to remain optimistic.

  Cheryl held the cord in her hand and looked back at the wall. “I’m conflicted as hell. Part of me wants to take this rig back down and pull people up. But bottom line, I’m worried sick about Juice.”

  “I can’t sense her,” said Criss. “Nor can I sense MacMac, Chase, or Justin. If they’re here, they’re behind some sort of shielding.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” said Cheryl, shaking her head.

  “We need to confirm it one way or the other,” said Sid as he examined the nearby buildings. “It’ll take a long time to search everything physically. Can you eliminate any of it?”

  “A fair amount,” said Criss, “I suggest we divide up and search near the axis of spin here on the guest deck, then head down to the cellar. If we start in the center down there, the spin will have slowed enough as we work our way out that we can finish that whole level. Then we come back up here to the guest deck and finish out near the wall.”

  “How long will that take?” asked Sid.

  A map projected in front of him, arrows guiding him through a nearby building. “If we stick to the plan, five hours, plus however long for breaks.”

  The search took just under five hours and left them empty-handed as Sid had feared. Sid and Cheryl took a moment to internalize the commitment they were about to make—months of grueling pursuit in confined quarters—then they made for a perimeter gate to board the scout.

  Their path took them past the Vivo Hotel. Willow’s mom saw them, and, dragging Willow by the hand, she hurried toward them, shouting for their attention.

  “Please take Willow with you,” she begged. “I’ve lived a full life, but she has so much ahead of her.” She started to sob, pushing Willow toward them. The young teen started crying too. The anguish and confusion tugged at Sid.

  Cheryl took charge. “I’m president of a company called SunRise. Have you heard of it?”

  “I have,” Willow choked out, raising her hand as if she were answering a teacher’s question in the classroom.

  “That gives me access to amazing people and technology. I’ve already launched four pursuit ships from Mars. They’ll be here in just over two weeks to bring everyone home.”

  Willow’s distraught mom showed her skepticism by shaking her head through her tears. Sid, anxious to help, moved away from the women, motioning for Criss to follow.

  “Can you link me to Tommy?”

  “Tommy Two-Tone? Done.”

  “Tommy, it’s Sid. Remember me?”

  Tommy started a profanity-laced tirade, finishing with, “I’ll kill you!” before stopping to take a breath.

  “How would you like to own Vivo?”

  “Is that what you call the dome you tried to crash into Aurora?”

  “Yup. It’s coasting into deep space. If you can retrieve the structure and return it to Aurora in the next five days, you can have it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Vivo can house a hundred people comfortably. I have control of it and offer it to your syndicate to own, free of charge and clear of conditions. To earn it, you need to find a way to slow its outbound flightpath and return it to Aurora within five days, without putting any of the passengers in harm’s way.”

  “I hear your words and know you are full of shit.”

  “From the beginning I told you I would pay dearly for you to lodge and care for these people for a brief time. A sweet sum for a few days’ work. That’s all this has ever been about.”

  Sid nodded to Criss. “You’re receiving a contract for this final offer right now. You have one hour to accept. And Tommy, know that if any passenger gets hurt because of your actions or your inactions, we will be meeting again. You won’t be happy with the outcome.”


  While Tommy evaluated the offer, the three left Vivo for the scout, the stares and glares of the guests weighing on them as they departed. Once aboard, Sid led Cheryl to her bunk while Criss retrieved and stowed the truss line.

  Though the door was closed, Criss intruded on their privacy. “Tommy has signed.”

  “That’s great news,” said Cheryl, crowded into the mist shower with Sid. “But can he pull it off?”

  Criss projected an image of two muscular dozers coming to life in a huge asteroid cave, flexing monstrous claws the size of houses, their oversized engines glowing white. “Tommy does an excellent job of hiding resources. He’ll beat the deadline with these.”

  Cheryl tried to look at them, but Sid distracted her by nibbling on her neck.

  “These monsters can tear open a medium-sized asteroid in minutes,” Criss continued. “Tommy’s sending both of them, and that means he’s serious.”

  Sid dismissed Criss after that. When he was gone, Sid hugged Cheryl, holding her tight and glorying in having her back in his arms.

  Chapter 26

  The explosion hit Juice like a punch to the gut. Before she could make sense of the assault, fierce winds threatened to drag her backward. She reached for the frame of the storage unit door but missed her mark. Lunging this time, she tried and missed again. Her eyes connected with MacMac’s as her feet lifted from the floor.

  Fighting for survival, she twisted for a last grasp. She met resistance as she turned and changed tactics, grasping for whatever it was that pressed on her. She found purchase and held tight.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw that she’d grabbed Justin’s arm. Standing at the door of the storage unit, he leaned outward at a steep angle, the hand behind him holding the doorframe, the other outstretched, gripping Juice’s shirt near her waist.

  Her head twisted when he yanked the material, but the action caused her to move in his direction. He improved his grip, jerked her again, got an arm around her waist, and fell back, pulling her inside the storage unit.

  Like the shelter of a cove, the relative quiet inside the room gave Juice the opportunity to collect her thoughts. Sitting upright, she searched for MacMac and spied him outside, clawing the ground as the wind pulled at him.

  “Help him!” she commanded the synbods.

  Chase, already acting, crouched at the door. Holding the jamb, he swung his arm, straight and rigid from the splint, in MacMac’s direction. When it stopped moving, Chase’s clasp gun pointed right at MacMac’s face.

  “What are you doing?” yelled Juice, horrified by Chase’s action.

  “Grab on!” Chase yelled.

  MacMac looked at the gun and hesitated.

  “Grab it, MacMac!” yelled Juice, seeing that Chase’s finger wasn’t on the trigger, that he had extended the weapon to lengthen his reach.

  MacMac hesitated for a moment more, and then a fierce gust forced a decision. In a deliberate sequence of moves, he grasped the gun with his left hand, twisted his body to square up to Chase, and lunged to secure his right hand as well.

  With Juice and Justin each holding one of Chase’s legs, the synbod reeled MacMac inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, Justin jumped up and finished closing the storage unit door using a manual crank, silencing the chaos outside.

  Juice sat on the deck taking deep breaths and gathering her wits. Emergency lights cast long shadows, giving the room an eerie feel.

  “You okay?” asked MacMac.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Fine. And thank you for the hand, lads.”

  Justin walked around the perimeter of the room inspecting the walls while Chase studied the items in the room as if he were taking inventory.

  “I’ve lost Criss,” said Juice. “Justin, Chase, are either of you in contact with him?”

  “No,” they answered in unison.

  “Do you hear that?” asked MacMac.

  Juice shook her head.

  “Neither do I, which means the drive pods have shut down.”

  As he spoke, Juice felt herself lifting off the deck.

  “We’ve lost the gravity module, too.”

  Juice waited, anticipating the return of power at any moment. As she did, a dizzy spell clouded her thoughts. “I’m feeling a little light-headed. Do you think we have enough air in here?”

  MacMac floated toward the workbench, calling to Justin. “Can you tell us the status of our air?”

  “It’s thin,” Justin reported based on his internal sensors. “We’re down almost thirty percent.”

  MacMac reached to a row of hand valves on the wall behind the workbench and cranked one open. Then he pulled a hose off the spout, and a hiss filled the room.

  “This is pure oxygen for my torch,” said MacMac, “so watch for ignition sources.” He waited a few minutes and then told Justin, “Stay here and when the oxygen fraction in the air is stable for us, shut it off.”

  MacMac floated back toward Juice and noticed Chase was digging at the wall, “Whoa there, laddie. Let’s not disturb that.”

  “What do you have?” Juice asked the synbod.

  “This room has shielding on the walls,” said Chase. “I believe that’s why Criss cannot connect with us.”

  “The walls, floor, and ceiling are shielded so Lazura can’t see inside,” said MacMac. “That means your friend probably can’t see either.”

  “Can we pierce it to get a signal out?”

  “Bad idea,” said MacMac. “You’ll have to punch a hole through the wall, not an easy task, and there’s no air on the other side if you happen to succeed.”

  “So we make it small and cover it when we’re done.”

  “Even harder to do, but fair enough. How do we send a signal that doesn’t alert Lazura as well? She just had Hejmo, Mondo, and three others try to capture us. If she knows we’re here, she’ll send more.”

  “What do we do?”

  “My recommendation is to wait until your friends are on board and able to help in our defense. They’re hours away, so it shouldn’t be long. Until then, we sit tight and wait.”

  “How will we know they’re out there if we’re in here?”

  “Ah,” said MacMac, pointing. “Chase, lad, would you float up to that small, gold-colored ring in the wall to the right of the overhead door?”

  Chase moved to the spot, studied the insert—a small, clear plug of glass-like material—then put his eye to it.

  “Can you see across the deck all the way to the lift?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you see the synbods?”

  “No.”

  “Really?” MacMac swam toward Chase and the viewport. “Can you see the deck where they were?”

  “Yes. They’re not there now.”

  MacMac looked and confirmed the observation. “I don’t believe the uninjured ones would let themselves be sucked out through the breach. They’re too fast and too strong. That means they’re on the prowl, probably looking for us.”

  Juice moved to the viewport and looked through to see a large swath of the subdeck and no sign of synbods. “They must know we’re in here.”

  “We ducked in here while everyone was fighting for survival, and that power outage ensured that nothing was being recorded. If we last the next couple of hours, I think we’re okay.”

  Juice pushed away from the wall. “Chase, please keep watch and let us know if you see anything.” Then she turned to MacMac. “Could we send a signal through the viewport?”

  MacMac shook his head. “The same company that makes the wall shield makes these.”

  She twirled to survey the room, getting a sense of where they would be spending the next hours. “I get that we had a breach and lost power, but what could cause something like that?”

  “I’d need to know the order before I could even guess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “An explosion at the primary artery that punches a hole in the containment shell would make me think sabotage from the inside
. A puncture of the shell followed by the loss of power implies an attack from the outside.”

  “If those are the only choices, then it’s the first one. No way Criss would let anyone attack us.”

  “The secondary artery hasn’t kicked on, and that’s the automatic response to a failure of the primary. I’m starting to think something bigger happened, maybe multiple events.”

  Appraising the space, Juice asked, “Why do you have this room isolated?”

  “I was transforming this and the room next door into private space for my personal use. It’s secured using shielding material we had left over from the construction of the Power House.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Back a week or so ago when I thought I worked at a vacation resort, I had a job I loved and a boss I felt the exact opposite about.”

  “That would be Aubrey?”

  MacMac nodded. “Working on this hideout became a form of therapy that kept me from walking away.” He looked around the room. “It sounds foolish when I say it out loud.”

  Juice sensed he wasn’t telling the whole story but didn’t press him. Instead, she stayed quiet, waiting to see if he’d fill the silence with more details.

  Then she realized she was shivering. “I can see my breath.” She twisted to face the center of the room. “What do we have to keep us warm?”

  “Over here,” said MacMac. He floated to a big yellow tool locker in the back corner, turned the handle, and pulled open a door that was as tall as he was. Juice, peering over his shoulder, saw a display of handheld power tools organized on the locker’s back wall. She assumed one of them was a portable heater of some sort until MacMac reached in and pulled the wall of tools open as if it, too, were a door.

  Without speaking, he floated into the opening and disappeared. Juice poked her head inside and saw the familiar cast of emergency lights at the other end of a short passage.

  Floating after him, her head arrived in the storage unit next door before her feet left the room where she’d started. Justin came next, and Juice called back through the opening, “Keep watching, Chase. Sing out if you see anything moving.”