“With Lenny, I can be out of here a few hours from now. He’s technically brilliant, good with his hands, has a creative mind with a diabolical bent, and he’s willing to work hard for long hours to get a job done. He’s a bit whiny and annoying, but I’m pretty sure I can whoop that out of him in the first few hours.”
“Are you going to ask him first?”
“Sure, after we’re underway and past the moon. I’ll give him the option of getting with the program or exiting the hatch and seeing if he can float home.”
“Huh.” She sat back and mulled what she’d heard. Given that it’s a Sid thought process, it almost make sense. “Smart isn’t the same as skilled. The second one takes training and practice.” She looked at Crispin. “What’s he done relevant to space operations?”
Sid answered for Criss. “He actually has one of the highest Fleet pilot ratings on the planet.” He paused for dramatic effect. “In the Fate or Fortune sim game, anyway. I don’t think he’s ever been on a real ship, though.” He looked at Crispin, who shook his head.
Sid picked up his coffee, tilted his head back, and drained the mug. As he brought his arm down, he flipped his hand, hurtling the cup at Crispin’s head. Crispin’s arm moved in a flash; the rest of him remained motionless. He caught the speeding mug in the palm of his hand before it hit his face.
“What the hell, Sid?” Juice put a hand on Crispin’s shoulder as if to protect him.
Crispin set the mug down. “Please don’t be upset, young lady,” she heard Criss say privately inside her head. “He’s leaving Crispin as your partner and bodyguard, and he needs to prove to himself a last time that he’s making the right choice. From that view, his test of the synbod’s reflexes reinforces how important you are to him.”
Juice continued to glare at Sid. He, in turn, gazed into the distance, his eyes unfocused. She wondered what bizarre thoughts were banging about in his brain.
Criss continued his private communication. “You know I can’t do what he does. While I forecast outcomes using probabilities and likelihoods, he visualizes the big picture from the perspective of motivations and behaviors.”
Sid’s eyes focused as he surfaced from his trance. “Juice, I’d like to talk about how you can help over the next week or so.”
“Whatever you need.” She knew she’d be playing a role and had been waiting to hear.
“I ask that you move up to the farmhouse. Take Crispin with you as your partner. Your job will be to support Criss and keep him in play if the worst-case scenario develops.”
Criss’s bunker was deep beneath a small farm located halfway up the mountainside that faced the lodge from the south. The entrance to his underground lair was through a secure door hidden inside a barn. Though she knew she couldn’t see it from the loft, Juice looked up the hill in the direction of the farm.
“If this progresses as I fear,” said Criss. “We should have you below ground with me. You’ll be safe in the bunker, and your task will be to help keep me connected so I can coordinate Earth’s response. If I go offline, even for a few seconds, the consequences could be devastating.”
“What I haven’t figured out, though,” said Sid, “is who’s going to act as chaperone between you and droid-boy.”
“Give it a rest,” she snapped. The teasing was annoying enough on a regular day, and given what she’d just heard, she wasn’t in the mood to be gracious about it. Overlaying her ire was simple fear. She was scared.
She knew Sid had lived through years of crazy violence as a covert warrior, and gallows humor seemed to help him maintain sanity and focus in horrifying situations. She suffered emotional trauma from her one battle experience and was certain she never wanted to go through anything like that again.
Thinking about how the Kardish had devastated Earth’s crystal development and production infrastructure, she traced the top of her breast pocket where she carried an extra anti-traumatic-stress pill. She decided she felt okay at the moment, so she turned her attention to others. “If they’re coming, Crystal Research is at risk, isn’t it?”
“If it’s them and they’re here for revenge,” said Criss, “everything’s at risk.”
Juice lifted her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling herself into a small, tight ball. My best friends work at the complex. In fact, she considered everyone there to be part of her family.
She centered her thoughts on her employees, letting their plight supplant her fears. “I can’t run and hide and leave them to die. Can we send them away? Maybe phony up a business conference or something?”
“Depending on how things develop, it may not matter where they’re located,” said Criss.
Juice laid her head on her knees and looked into the distance. I can’t save the world, but I can try and help my friends.
Speaking from the contorted position, she said, “How about if we tell them that the new crystal production line is being built over the next few weeks. There’ll be lots of strangers coming and going. We’ll announce that we’re going to lock down everything for security. All employees should work from home until further notice.”
She looked at Sid, who nodded. “If it works for you, it works for me.”
She turned to Crispin, and he tilted his head in agreement. So Juice did something she rarely did and issued a command as leadership: “Criss, please handle it.”
Chapter 17
Convinced of a looming danger, Criss studied the latest readings from that troubling sector of space. He combined scans from the probe swarm with feeds from the dishes and scopes he’d commandeered, and examined the composite pictures with anticipation. Nothing. Whatever was out there remained hidden.
He cast his net wider, digging for clues that would help him identify the threat so he could improve Earth’s defensive position. Serendipity rewarded his efforts when he stumbled across an old prospecting ship making its way out to the asteroids. The ship’s antiquated navigation system kept a record of its mapping sweeps, and Criss found one sweep that coincided with the direction and timing of his first faint sighting of the anomaly out at the edge of the solar system.
The downlink from the aging prospector ran slower than a crawl, and he waited impatiently for the mapping information to dribble in. When it was finally complete, his anticipation rose again as he merged the mapping data from the prospector with the previous scans from the probe swarm.
Performing a fresh analysis of the first sighting, he combed through the enhanced images for new insights on the intruder. But instead of seeing a sharper picture of the object at the edge of the solar system, he saw the starkness of empty space. Not possible, he thought.
He ran through it all again. And again. Now both are gone? He isolated his original probe swarm scans, and to his great confusion, there was no faint dot. Nor was there a glint of light. He reviewed his backup scans, and then the backups to the backups. Whatever he’d seen had disappeared.
Unnerved and confused, Criss focused every bit of his intellectual capacity, leaving but scant coverage for his leadership, and judged his past actions. He traced through time, examining each decision. He reviewed his procedures, studied security, and tested equipment. He researched and audited and assessed. He couldn’t find flaws in his process, yet his last piece of evidence on the existence of an invader had vanished.
Criss pulled inside himself and asked fundamental questions. Am I stable? Am I sane? Did I imagine these sightings? Can someone delusional know this about themselves? How is it possible for history to change?
He recognized that he himself could manipulate image feeds without leaving any trace of an intrusion. I do it all the time, but no one else can. And then he felt shame as the realization rushed through the tendrils of his crystal lattice.
His reasoning worked by creating a massive decision matrix and projecting actions and reactions in a logic tree that branched into billions of possible scenarios. Evaluating the tree, he’d pick out its strongest branch and follow
it as his pathway forward. He’d repeat the process millions of times per second as he progressed through his day.
His ego—perhaps arrogance—had prevented him from sprouting logic branches that grew from the idea that a crystal of his capability might be on board the Kardish vessel. He’d never experienced living in a world with a peer and wondered if that had something to do with it. I don’t have time to rationalize my failure.
Allowing the possibility of an intellectual equal, one branch of his logic tree swelled larger than all others. It was obvious now. Criss knew the Kardish had helped with his design. Of course they could build another. They have a crystal gatekeeper like me on their vessel.
His ego still reigned supreme, however, because he pruned all logic branches that projected the idea of an intellect superior to his. The notion of a crystal with a capability a thousand times greater than his never made it as far as a feeble twig.
Can I win a battle against an equal? He had no prior experience with such a matchup and couldn’t think of a way to obtain any. He’d do his best, using whatever time he had to prepare his first moves and countermoves, but he suspected his challenger had been refining its strategy for months. Their first skirmish would be live action, and Criss had little doubt there would be devastating collateral damage to Earth and its populace.
On the upside, his new-found understanding of the situation brought with it a certain calm. He now realized the Kardish were cloaked, which explained why he couldn’t see them. But why did they uncloak at least twice during their approach? It was curious behavior.
And his past confusion over disappearing evidence now had an explanation. These are the crystal’s early moves. Forewarned is forearmed. He’d learn from his past mistakes and change his behavior accordingly.
Because they were cloaked, he didn’t know where the Kardish were on their trip Earthward. They could arrive in days. Or it might be hours. They might even be in orbit right now, watching and preparing.
Ramping up security and providing support for his leadership became his highest priority. He thought it wise to go to mission silence as soon as possible, but he first needed to position Sid, Juice, and Cheryl so they could help. What moves should he make that were best for them? What was best for humanity? And what is best for me?
As Sid had suggested, he’d have Juice and Crispin join him in his underground bunker as soon as possible. Each of the leadership should have backup partners. He’d use Crispin to protect Juice, and both Juice and Crispin would protect him. With her intelligence and training, Juice had the skill to keep him up and in play as events unfolded, providing benefit to the leadership as well as the people of Earth.
Cheryl was tragically vulnerable on the moon, yet the best option—the only one really—was to keep her there. She had actual battle experience and understood the capabilities of the defense array better than anyone. Under her leadership, the array should last a day or two and might be able to hurt the Kardish enough to lessen their rain of destruction bound for Earth.
It’d be a miracle if the array lasts a week, he thought. And it was a virtual certainty that when it died, so would she. He agonized over the thought of positioning her for death, but he couldn’t see an alternative.
If he put her on a transport back to Earth and the action started when she was en route, the Kardish would vaporize her ship. It would be a trivial effort for one of their mighty war vessels. She’d vanish without making a single contribution to Earth’s defense. And she’d be offended by the mere hint that she leave her crew behind and run for cover.
He considered telling her his assessment of the options and their consequences. He even toyed with the idea of telling her good-bye. Ignorance is indeed bliss. She was already gearing up for the fight of her life. He’d let her focus on that job.
Sid was committed to getting the scout up and outward bound as soon as possible, and while Criss often had difficulty understanding Sid’s motives or thought processes, he supported this choice. With the new cloak, Sid had a chance of getting the scout in position behind the Kardish as they moved toward Earth. And if he succeeded in doing that, he became the wild card in the game.
His whole life is a wild card, Criss thought. Sid had a track record of making decisions and taking actions that Criss found bewildering. Yet time and again, these unpredictable behaviors proved decisive in advancing the goals of the leadership. Criss had conceded long ago that he wasn’t able to forecast what Sid might do next. His most recent act of randomness—one that bordered on lunacy from Criss’s perspective—was choosing Lenny as his partner on the scout.
But Sid was comfortable with the idea, and there wasn’t time to advocate for alternatives. Beyond that, Criss’s job was to support the decisions of his leadership, not undermine them.
When Criss first became unnerved by the realization of a powerful crystal competitor, almost two seconds passed as he gathered and focused his intellectual capacity, completed his analysis and self-reflection, made decisions about how to move forward, and reengaged with his normal rhythms. These seconds being the longest he’d ever been disconnected from his usual routine, he was relieved to find humanity and his leadership had continued with their lives as if he’d never been away.
* * *
Juice sat in the scout’s command seat, tapping the surface of the operations bench and studying the images floating in front of her. Sid was back at the lodge making final preparations for his flight, and she used the time to evaluate the crystals installed on the small ship. It was in her nature to be cautious, and as a crystal expert, she knew it was easier to find and fix glitches while still on the ground.
“They look green and clean from here,” she said to Criss. She tapped again and studied a new display. “You’ve linked the two together to work as a single unit.” She zoomed the view and leaned forward. “Nice.”
The three-gen crystals had been pulled from two Kardish drones in Criss’s hidden stash. With the loss of their crystals, those two drones became useless. But in return, the scout now had the intelligent automation Sid needed to pilot the sophisticated vessel during his mission.
“It takes the full capability of one crystal just to maintain the cloak,” Criss said in her ear. “I’ve trained the other to operate this specific ship. Sid won’t have hands-free flying, but it’ll be pretty close.”
Juice finished her testing and started poking through random routines and displays. The tech enthusiast in her reveled in the new features and functions Criss had added in the two years since she’d last been on the scout.
Criss interrupted her playtime. “Sid and Crispin are bringing Lenny now. I’ll see you up here at the farm in about an hour?” His tone made it sound both like a question and a request.
“I haven’t had a chance to exercise today, so I was hoping to run up with Crispin. I need to change and warm up, and it’s a steep hill, so it’ll be closer to three hours.”
She heard a commotion behind her and turned to see Sid emerge from the narrow passageway. As he stepped onto the bridge, he pulled Lenny behind him, a hand gripping the young man’s upper arm. Sid had a pack over his shoulder. A second pack, clutched in the hand not holding Lenny, hung down by his knees.
As they crowded onto the small bridge, Crispin followed, holding a duffel and Lenny’s carryall. Sid tossed the packs he was carrying to the floor against the hull. Crispin gently placed the duffel and carryall next to Sid’s packs.
Juice stood, walked over to Sid, and stopped in front of him, searching his face for any sign of emotion. We need your magic on this one, she thought as she threw her arms around him and gave him a long hug.
“Take care, Sid. I’m counting on seeing you back here safe and sound when this is over.”
Sid returned the hug and kissed the top of her head. “It’ll work out. It always does.”
She moved around Sid and stood next to Crispin, putting an arm around his waist. “Last call before we shove off,” she said. “Anything you need?”
“Hey,” said Lenny. “You’re Dr. Tallette. I need to see you.”
She looked at him and held his gaze for a long moment, giving him the coldest stare she could muster. “Exactly what parts of me do you need to see, Lenny?” She said his name in the most derisive fashion she knew how.
Lenny furrowed his brow. And then he seemed to catch the subtext of her statement and turned bright red and looked at the ground.
Juice let go of Crispin and led the way through the narrow passageway and back outside through the bottom hatch.
She stood on the ground next to Crispin and looked up as the hatch closed. “Anchors aweigh,” she called.
It was an odd illusion to watch. Like looking up into a tunnel that floated above her, everything was cloaked except where they could see inside the ship. As the hatch closed, the tunnel became an ever-shrinking slice, and then it disappeared.
She followed Crispin at a slow jog until they were halfway back to the lodge, then they slowed their pace, walking until they heard a soft, thin whine. They turned to look. The grass in front of the willow tree swirled in a violent dance, and the branches of the willow itself began to pirouette. The sound rose above them and diminished rapidly in the distance. Sid and Lenny were on their way.
Turning to Crispin, Juice said, “It’s a good two-hour run up to the farmhouse. Let me change and loosen up a bit before we start.”
Crispin nodded, and Criss said from the synbod’s mouth, “You have some clothes and personal items up at the farmhouse, but I suggest thinking through what else you might need if this stretches out to two or three weeks.”
She looked at Crispin. “You think it could last that long?”
“If it does, it means we’re holding our own, and that’s a good thing.”
“A corollary is that if it doesn’t, it means we’ve lost.”
Chapter 18
Crystal Conquest Page 13
