Crystal Deception

by Doug J. Cooper

  Jack sat and watched Cheryl and Cait as they lay next to each other in the alley. He tried to think of something more he could do to speed their recovery. They both had the peaceful look of someone asleep, so he imagined they weren’t in pain. He hoped they would recover soon, because the longer they were out, the more challenging it would be for the three of them to survive.

  He considered possible next steps. It seemed clear that the Alliance no longer had value to their planning. The command bridge had suffered such complete destruction that the ship couldn’t be used as an escape vehicle. And the presence of guards served as evidence that the Kardish were paying attention to the ship. At some point, Cheryl and Cait would be missed. So while the Alliance stood as a symbol of home, their survival required that they abandon it as a refuge and get far away.

  He stood up and looked in all directions to see what he could learn of their surroundings. Unfortunately, from the confines of the alley, his view was greatly restricted, upward being his only clear line of sight. Overhead, he could see the curvature of the Kardish vessel from side to side as the hull wall traveled up, over, and down in a graceful arc.

  Remembering his visit to the DSA imaging center, he recalled that the vessel had a bulbous head at the bow that tapered off to a narrow tail in the stern. He studied the hull overhead. From his current vantage point, this front-to-back taper was less obvious but still noticeable. They could use this taper like a compass to orient themselves toward the bow or stern of the vessel when they were on the move.

  He knew that if he were to develop viable options, he would need to leave the alley and explore their surroundings. A reconnaissance mission of this sort meant that he would be leaving his partners unconscious and defenseless—a difficult choice, but he balanced it with the certainty that they would all be dead if they stayed in the alley much longer. There was some comfort in knowing that while he was out exploring, Cheryl’s ear speck would let them establish communication should she recover.

  This thought reminded him of the sticky speck he planted on the Kardish leader. He prompted his com and listened to the ongoing conversation for a few minutes. His com translated words where it could and left the original Kardish in place if it had not yet resolved a translation. He found the mishmash of languages distracting, so he left it running at a very low volume and hoped his subconscious would send an alert if the chatter became relevant to their survival.

  Impatient for action, he prepped for his reconnaissance mission. He adjusted the ghost cape so it covered Cheryl and Cait like a blanket, then viewed them from several angles to confirm they were hidden. There was a shiny surface on one of the box units in the alley, and he used it to study his own reflection, or lack thereof, to assure himself that the ghost suit was functioning properly. He shifted equipment appropriate for reconnaissance into the ghost pack, then took the back exit out of the alley and started his expedition. He headed away from the Alliance.

  The alley led onto a larger lane that connected with a broad, straight road. The lanes and roads had a grid layout that reminded him of city living. He stood in the center of the broad road and looked into the distance, and then turned and did the same in the other direction. The road ran for as far as he could see. The most obvious feature in both directions was that it dead-ended into enormous walls. Both walls went from top to bottom and side to side, dividing the Kardish vessel into isolated sections. Huge hangar doors bisected their midsections.

  The Alliance had entered the bow of the Kardish vessel and passed through two hangar doors as it traveled to its current resting spot. He studied the taper in the hull overhead and confirmed that the nearer dividing wall was toward the bow. That was the direction he would travel.

  Getting lost because of the stark sameness of the box-buildings around him was a real possibility. He checked his com, but it was unable to orient him or provide directions in this alien world. So he went old school. Digging a tiny tracer out of his pack, he placed it on a box unit at the corner that led to their alley. It would serve as a beacon and guide him back to this point when he chose to return.

  He walked down the middle of the road. After passing a number of lanes and alleys branching off on either side, he reached an intersection with another road as big as the one he was on.

  He was familiar with the distance between blocks in New York City and judged these intersections to be on a similar spacing. Back at the imaging center, Juice had commented that the Kardish vessel was about a hundred city blocks long. He looked up and down the road from far wall to near wall and guessed that this section of the ship held perhaps twenty or thirty of these intersections. That meant there were seventy or eighty blocks of ship located beyond the dividing walls.

  “Ohhh,” he heard in his ear.

  “Cheryl?!” He stopped moving and listened.

  “Sid? Where are you?”

  “It’s Jack, sweetie. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  He turned and hustled at a fast trot down the road. He snatched his tracer off the box unit without slowing and weaved his way back to the alley. As he approached the hideout, he saw Cheryl standing, holding onto a wall for support.

  * * *

  Cheryl was woozy. After delicately getting to her feet, she scanned the unfamiliar location and tried to make sense of the scene around her. She then realized Cait was lying unconscious on the ground next to her.

  She began to squat down and was surprised by something grabbing her around the waist. She stiffened and started throwing her elbows behind her, hard and fast.

  “Whoa,” she heard Jack say. “It’s me.”

  She turned around to see him removing the hood of his ghost suit and checked her fast breathing, angry at the way he’d surprised her. “Damn it, Jack. What were you thinking?”

  “I’m just glad to have you back.”

  He sounded apologetic, and she wondered if perhaps she’d overreacted. He squatted next to Cait, checking her vital signs.

  “She’s rallying, though slowly.” He gently shook Cait’s shoulder and patted her cheek. “She’s not ready to surface.”

  “Where’s everyone else?”

  Cheryl let him check her vitals as he spoke. “I don’t know why, but you’re doing great,” he said. Then he gave her the cold reality. “Everyone else is still on the Alliance, Cheryl. They’re all dead. And the ship is shot to hell. It’s heavily damaged, and we’ll never be able to use it to escape.” He paused while she digested his words.

  “They’re dead?” Dazed by the news, she leaned back against a box, and bending her knees, slid down to a squat. She stared at Cait with an unfocused gaze. “Give me details.”

  She only half listened as he gave a summary account. How did it all go to hell so quickly? she wondered. As captain, she accepted blame for the debacle.

  “How come I’m not dead?” she asked, feeling guilty because she had survived the rampage.

  “I don’t know,” Jack answered honestly.

  She reached out and stroked Cait’s face. “Will she make it?”

  “I don’t know,” he said again.

  Pushing against the box, she stood up. She paced to the end of the alley and back, then rose up on her toes and stretched her arms straight. She punched the air in front of her a few times. Though emotionally battered, her strength was returning. “I’m going to the ship. I need to see it.”

  And then she realized she was thirsty. She looked at his packs. “Do you have water?”

  He followed her gaze. “No, it’s all gizmos and gadgets.”

  “I’ll get supplies, too.” She checked her weapon on her wrist and primed it for action.

  Jack walked over to her and put his arm around her waist. “No way. After what you’ve been through, I’ll be the one going.”

  She spun out of his grasp and stared into his eyes. Firmly and clearly, she said, “Stop.” Then, showing the leadership that had earned her a command, she said, “We have a number of near-term tasks. We need food and water.
I need to assess the damage on the ship myself. And if we’re not staying here, we need alternatives.” Looking down, she added, “And we need to help Cait.”

  He listened as she continued.

  “You’ve started the reconnaissance. Please take another spin and find us an objective. We need someplace to go, or something to achieve. Develop options for us. I’ll return to the ship for supplies and my assessment. We’ll meet back here in ninety minutes.”

  “Let me give you the suit, then.” He made a motion to undress.

  “No. But thank you, Jack.” She bent over and picked up the sheet of cloaking material off of Cait. “This will be fine.” She wasn’t sure that was true, but only one of them could wear the suit. It had been fitted to his frame, and he was already wearing it.

  “Please walk with me and get me started. Then we’ll both tackle our assignments.”

  She held up a finger, signaling him to wait, and accessed her com. “Cait, Jack and I are on a recon. We’ll be back with you in ninety minutes from the time of this message. We won’t leave you behind. If we aren’t here, God speed to you, Ensign.”

  Jack led the way back out of their alley hideout to his previous vantage point. She draped the cloak sheet around her like a shawl, with one corner free that she could pull up to shield her face. It wasn’t perfect cover, but it wasn’t bad, either.

  “I’ve got it from here. Good luck, Jack. See you in ninety.” She didn’t see him slip away.

  She peeked around the corner and saw the guards sitting on the deck, backs against a beam, with their eyes closed. She wondered how long it would be before one of them started snoring. If these had been members of her unit, she would have raised holy hell over their unprofessional behavior. But she was on a mission, this was the enemy, and ultimately, she was relieved that sneaking aboard would not be the challenge she imagined.

  Making slow and deliberate moves, she climbed up the structure. She reached the bottom hatch and entered the ship. Her first stop was the armory. She and Cait had only one weapon each, and they both needed more firepower. She grabbed several charge cartridges as well. If it ever came to the point where they were actually using all this ammo, she thought, it would probably be in a to-the-death battle. If that were the case, her goal would be to take as many of the bastards with her as she possibly could.

  Next, she toured the ship and located her dead crew. She could only afford a brief moment of mourning with each, and by the end of her circuit, anguish and fury had nearly consumed her. Through misty eyes of grief, she studied the damage to the bridge. It struck her as a display of childish behavior. It was clear, though, that the ship was of no value to them now.

  In the galley she piled water and food rations on the counter, then second-guessed her estimate of what they would need and added more. She was still uncertain and considered separating the pile into individual portions for each day to confirm she had it right. Realizing she was wasting time, she stuffed everything into a carryall. She looped it over her shoulder and adjusted her cloak to cover her and the bag.

  Once out of the galley, she headed to the bottom hatch. Walking the length of a passageway, she approached a corner and heard a noise. She crouched, pulled the sheet up to cover her head, and froze.

  Through a pinhole in the sheet, she saw one of the Kardish guards standing down the hallway, looking in her direction. Moving his head alternately to and fro, he squinted as if trying to focus.

  The guard lifted his weapon.

  Chapter 22

  Criss fine-tuned their path yet again to ensure the scout would travel above the lunar surface, swing around the planet as it fought a tug-of-war with gravity, and shoot outward into deep space on a high-speed trajectory aimed at the Kardish vessel. They were entering the final stages of their flyby maneuver, and small errors could multiply rapidly into disastrous consequences.

  Earlier in the scout’s approach flight, he had confronted a different kind of challenge. Fleet tracking arrays had warned that a projectile behaving much like an attack missile was closing rapidly on the moon, prompting lunar security to raise the alarm. There was little doubt that an impact would cause tremendous damage to Fleet’s lunar operations. Yet while the object was acting like a missile, it presented the proper encryption credentials of a Fleet scout ship.

  This had sown seeds of confusion, which delayed Fleet action. No one seemed to know, or at least would acknowledge, whether the scout was on a sanctioned mission from Earth, if it had been hijacked by a rogue pilot, or if the Kardish somehow had turned the Union’s own ships against them in a coordinated attack. The best answers forthcoming from Fleet Command were muddled and ambiguous. Since it was the moon in the cross hairs, the lunar base commander had shouldered the responsibility, declared a state of emergency, and mobilized defensive measures.

  Criss had observed the activity and explored his options. He sought to avoid having a discussion with Fleet leadership. It didn’t seem possible that he could provide them with enough information to make them comfortable with his actions, without at the same time handing the Kardish, who would certainly be listening, the complete play by play of his rescue mission.

  He’d considered overriding and manipulating every relevant web feed, projection image, data store, and com link to hide the scout from Fleet’s tracking capabilities, but quickly rejected the idea. Once started, he would need to continually monitor and manipulate all of these elements until the rescue mission was complete. It would have achieved the end he sought but would also have required more resources then he cared to devote given the challenges ahead.

  Instead, he decided to worm through the web and gain access to the several dozen detection applications that were tracking the scout. With a simple tweak, he associated the scout’s identification signature with that of empty space. When he effected this change, a host of Fleet officers, analysts, and strategists all expressed surprise and disbelief as the scout ship simply vanished. When no missile impact occurred, officers ordered techs on the moon and Earth to find the flaw in the system that created the false alarm. In the end, their skills were no match for Criss’s.

  He had started the scout’s flight toward the moon by pushing the engines beyond their design limits. This was necessary to get the ship up to speed and on course to meet a narrow time window. They were now far enough along their flight path where their acceleration was caused more by the pull of the moon’s gravity than by the thrust of the ship’s engines. One benefit of the transition from engine push to moon pull was a moderation in the vibrations wracking the scout. Criss had taken a risk that the engines would survive his extreme demands, and the gamble was paying off.

  The physical trials for Juice and Sid ramped up and peaked during the moments of the actual flyby. Criss monitored his human cargo and could see the skin sagging on their faces from the g-forces as they passed above the lunar surface. He deemed this to be compelling evidence that it had been an act of kindness to sedate them. His prediction analysis had indicated they would survive with nothing more than body stiffness and a headache, and he had confirmation this would prove to be correct.

  The flyby was a success. The scout hurtled away from the moon and bore down on the Kardish vessel. They were on a high-speed coast now. With the punishing g-forces behind them, Criss shut down the flow of anesthetic gas.

  * * *

  Sid began to surface. He was groggy and stared around dully, then he shook his head and started to rally. He moved his hands to the operations bench, and his eyes opened wide when his brain processed the information displayed in front of him.

  “Criss, is this right?”

  “Yes. You have been unconscious for about seven hours. We have passed the moon and are moving to intercept the Kardish.”

  Sid’s fingers moved across the bench as he explored deeper. He traced their route back to the point he could last remember and was baffled. “How is this possible?”

  “Perhaps we can discuss what happens next,” said Criss.
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  Criss was saved from further questioning, at least for the moment, by the sound of Juice surfacing. “Ohh,” she said. “I feel like hell. Can I get up?”

  “There is no danger if you move from your seat,” said Criss. “But might I suggest you consider sitting for a few more minutes before you stand?”

  Sid’s priority was to get Juice back in the game. He released his restraints and stood up, wobbled, put one hand on the back of his seat for a moment as he fought to maintain his balance, then with deliberate steps, moved over to her. He released her restraints, helped her to her feet, and kept his arm around her waist as he walked her back to her cabin. He grabbed handholds wherever he could to maintain his own balance.

  Inside her cabin, he steadied her as she lowered herself to the bunk and then got her a cup of water. She took a few sips, followed by several deep gulps. Sid realized he was thirsty as well, and his head was pounding. He got himself a cup and sat down next to her.

  “Juice,” said Sid. “Criss is free.”

  “Definitely a free spirit,” said Juice. After a few beats she said, “Wait, what do you mean?”

  “You remember that the Kardish vessel ate the Alliance?”

  “Yeah,” she said the word slowly, her brain starting to gear up.

  “After that, they took off for deep space. I couldn’t figure out a way to catch them on my own. Unless we do, we can’t rescue the crew. Criss said he had a plan to catch them and convinced me that I wasn’t skilled enough to do it myself. My choices were to lose Cheryl and Jack forever, or to set Criss free and maintain hope. So I turned off the mesh.”

  “He’s listening and watching right now,” she said, looking around the cabin as if she could see his presence. “The moment that switch was flipped, we started working for him. Isn’t that right, Criss?”

  “We are a team,” they heard Criss say. “We will work together to rescue the crew of the Alliance.”

  Sid turned to Juice. “Is your headache gone?”

  “Yeah. I feel great.”