Damn, the connection is slow out here!
He initiated the autopilot and felt the ship drift upward as it let go of the anchor point. It performed a slow slide around the conical room and then glided up to the door at the surface of the asteroid.
Red lights flashed about the area and a siren blared inside the bay. Alvin watched as a couple of floating deck hands waved him through. The giant door split down the middle and retreated into the walls, revealing a second door beyond. The craft floated in as the first door resealed. When it shut again, the outer door opened. He was whisked into space in an instant.
He spun in circles for a few moments until he saw a small spherical moon oriented dead center in his viewscreen. The spin disoriented him, but the sensation passed quickly. He felt surprisingly comfortable. He trusted the hopper.
Alvin watched the miles fall away on his display. He’d be there in only a minute, for a change.
Time for the in-flight show.
He peeped Play on the message. Katy’s voice sounded in his ear.
“Hi, Alvin! I miss you! I’m sorry for not calling sooner, but I got written up at work. That jerk Zuck—”
Then it went dead.
What the hell? What did Zuck do?
“Signal Lost—Radio Interference,” flashed across his Opti-Comp. Beyond the floating message, Acmon crater and the glowing red light were fast approaching. The gray ground zoomed up close, then the ship pivoted, bringing the black horizon into view.
Fuck. I’m here.
The rock hopper guided itself over the pockmarked gray surface. Up ahead Alvin could see the thin beam of red light splitting the horizon. As he got closer, he saw the crater clearly. Red light emanated from a concave dish that focused out into space. Off to the end of the valley was a dome embedded into the ground. It was twenty feet in diameter, about the size of the retirement bubbles in Musk City.
That thing’s only a little bigger than my apartment. Who’s in there?
The hopper came within two hundred feet of the dome and slowed to a halt. The display read “Autopilot Disengaged.”
“Not exactly curb service,” he grumbled.
He took over via synaptic control and moved the rock hopper closer. There was a single mooring anchor in front of the dome. Alvin grasped hold with the tendrils to anchor the pod.
He double-checked his helmet and glove seals and depressurized the cabin. The faint echo of his movements was gone, replaced with a stillness. He opened the hatch and hopped out.
He got four feet above the hopper before he realized he wasn’t heading down. A surge of adrenaline hit him and he fired his thrusters to push back down to the ground.
He grabbed on to a railing bolted below and slid along the metal bars all the way to the dome.
When he got to the door, it was locked.
“I’m guessing the password isn’t ‘swordfish,’” he muttered. “Where’s the doorbell?”
The door opened.
I must be expected. Thank god.
He bounded inside the small airlock and quickly bounced off the interior door.
He saw the tethering straps at his waist start to ripple as air filled the chamber. The inner door opened and Alvin gave a tiny push off to land gracefully inside.
He looked around and saw but could not hear a man talking to him from the corner of the room. Alvin removed his helmet.
“Shoes, take them off,” said a mildly accented voice.
Behind an old quantum computer console piled high with esoteric crap and node parts, a man rose. He was tall and disheveled-looking. He stepped around the console making ripping sounds, and Alvin noticed his grip booties that stuck to the floor.
The man swiped a mane of black hair from both sides of his bearded face. He was olive skinned with dark eyes that were mad with intensity.
Alvin gasped. It was the dead man from the Zzyzx.
Mohammed Rinsler!
“You’ll ruin the grip,” said the man, pointing to the carpeted floor.
“Who are you?” said Alvin.
“Did you bring it?”
“Yes, I brought it. Who are you?”
“Where is it?” asked the man.
“The last guy who had it died. Why do you look like him?”
“By design. Where is it?”
“Who was the dead guy?”
The black-haired man sighed in irritation. “He was my brother, Abraham. Where is it?”
“It’s outside. I’ll go get it.”
Alvin lowered his helmet and hopped back into the airlock to go through the dance once more.
This is one charming dead guy.
He’d pegged Mohammed Rinsler as the brains behind the project on The Hope. He was proud of that bit of detective work, but the rest was still a mystery.
Alvin got back to the hopper and retrieved the dark ball from inside. He made up his mind that he would get answers. He held the sphere in his grip and felt the familiar tingling as he looked out across the gray plain and up at the pinpricked black sky.
I’ll get answers or I’ll leave.
Alvin returned inside and Rinsler stepped forward to take the sphere from his hand.
Alvin removed his helmet and looked up at the taller man. His dark eyes were entranced. A wide gap-toothed smile creased his bearded face as he caressed the sphere like a baby and talked to it in hushed tones.
He’s a wacko. “Who killed your brother?”
“Shoes,” said the man.
Alvin shook his head. “No. What is going on?”
“Washington thinks it’s a weapon,” said Rinsler. “Alteris thinks it’s good for the mining business. They’re in a little squabble over it.”
“A squabble that left a ship full of dead men, including your brother. What does it do?”
“Shoes.” The man walked slowly back to his desk.
Alvin shook his head then angrily removed his boots and gloves. Rinsler tossed him a pair of grip socks.
Alvin pulled them from the sealed package, tugged them on, and walked slowly over to the corner. The socks made a ripping sound with each step. He felt like he was stuck to something rather than standing on it. When he got up close to the quantum computer, he could finally see over the pile of equipment. Sitting in front of the scientist were two black spheres.
“There are two of them,” said Alvin.
Rinsler crinkled his nose. “Of course.”
“Are they the same?” said Alvin.
The scientist looked at him blankly. “Identical, they work together.”
“Is there a manual? I’ve never seen anything like them before.”
“There is no manual. There are no records at all. These are the first of their kind.” He went back to prodding at the newly delivered sphere.
“So what do you need me to do, then?” said Alvin.
“You already did it,” said Rinsler.
“That’s it? I just deliver it to you?”
Rinsler nodded.
“Do you know what I sacrificed to get here?”
The scientist arched an eyebrow. “From the barrios of Earth to the luxury of The Hope to the moon of an asteroid. Yes, I know. I requested you.”
“Requested me? Why?” said Alvin.
“Quantum analysis,” said Rinsler. “I figured you for a cyber-jock yahoo, but I always give the data the benefit of the doubt.”
Alvin’s eyebrow arched. “What?”
Rinsler touched the spheres lightly with his fingertips. “Surely you know of my quantum intelligence, the QI?”
“Yes, your last job for the United States. A quantum computer so advanced it was supposed to be conscious. It was designed to advise us, but its advice caused a revolution and led to laws outlawing AI. It was a failure.”
“No, it was a success. Humanity is the failure. My creation is alive and well,” said Rinsler. “The experiment is still running.”
“What experiment?”
“One that plots possibilities and determines the
most desirable outcomes. It saw you—a variable that could only be encountered if we destroyed the United States,” said Rinsler. “You’re a hypothesis.”
Alvin sat down. His annoyance dulled by confusion.
“What?” he said. “You intended to cause civil war? Why? What is that thing I brought here?”
“A transmitter to pair with a receiver,” said Rinsler. “They will allow human minds to manipulate matter at the quantum level.”
He looked proud.
“Is that what Alteris is paying for? To have you automate their mining?” said Alvin.
“Not just the mining, but the transportation.”
“So you’ve faked your death for money?”
“Science is expensive,” said Rinsler. “The U.S. struggles financially and lacks the vision for this experiment. I used Alteris to get here. I need to perform my tests in isolation.”
Alvin slumped back against the wall. “You trashed a country for an experiment? That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
“Your understanding is irrelevant,” said Rinsler. “You are here because variables suggested you. That is why I have accepted you touching my sphere!”
He showed a flash of anger then went back to cooing at the orbs like they were babies.
I need to leave before I punch him. “If that’s it, then, I’ll be off.”
Rinsler nodded at him.
Alvin pulled off the booties and put his boots on. The scientist went back to his work.
Neither man spoke for as long as it took Alvin to seal his space suit.
As the airlock door closed, Alvin said, “Thanks for the vacation. Have fun with your balls.”
Rinsler couldn’t hear him.
Thirty-Two
Alvin’s rock hopper lifted off the small moon. He felt safer now that he had dropped off Rinsler’s invention. Whoever was seeking to steal or sabotage it could take it from Dactyl.
Fuck that old kook! I’m done with this job.
As soon as he left the surface, the radio interference cleared and he went to his inbox to queue the voice message from Katy.
“Hi Alvin! I miss you! I’m sorry for not calling sooner, but I got written up at work. That jerk Zuck has caused me so much trouble. He’s trying to get me kicked off the ship. He’s angry about the whole avatar thing. I’m sure you have plenty to worry about. I’ll be okay. I’ve dealt with worse. Let me know when you’re coming back. We’re in port for another week. I love you, Al.”
Alvin arrived in the docking bay as the message finished. He kicked the wall of the hopper in anger.
Zuck had better not bother her again.
He looked out the hopper viewport and saw Tosh waving at him. He was in no mood to talk. Alteris had sent his ass halfway across the solar system with no instructions so they could hide their theft of Washington’s property. Men had died for their profit. And now his girl was caught up in his wake. He reminded himself that it was all temporary.
One week. Keep it together for one week.
He recorded a message to Meyer. “Package delivered,” then he exited out the rear hatch. Toshiro was there to meet him.
“So are we all losing our jobs?” asked Tosh.
“Ha.”
“Well, c’mon. What did you learn?”
Alvin shook his head. “Not much.”
“Who’s up there?” said Tosh.
“A hermit. Didn’t tell me anything about his plans,” said Alvin.
“What?”
Alvin nodded.
“That’s crazy. So you’re just a messenger boy,” said Tosh.
“Seems that way. I have no further orders. Just a week to survive Carroll Henry.”
“You started that shit in the mess hall,” said Tosh.
“He started it a long time ago.”
“You need to chill out. Let’s get over to hydroponics.” Tosh grinned.
They went down to the lower depths of the base and rounded a turn to a wall of glass. On one side, a rock face with glistening mineral deposits. Beyond the glass—a paradise. The garden was overstuffed with green life and exotic flowers.
Toshiro swiped his wrist at the transparent door and they entered. An empty console sat before them; off to their right, the cluttered green blocked much of the view. Alvin couldn’t see how far back the garden went. He could smell flowers and wetness and . . . Earth.
The air seemed fresh and he took a deep breath of it. His shoulders relaxed and the tension in his chest eased.
“Hey Sioux!” called Tosh. He turned back to Alvin. “She’s probably meditating by the stream.”
“Stream?”
Tosh nodded.
“Be with you in a sec,” came a female voice from inside the jungle of greenery.
Alvin looked around at the hydroponics on the walls. There were plants everywhere. A variety of blooming flowers added flourishes of color. The whole astonished him. He stepped closer to a wall of orange flowers and saw bees. He backed away in a hurry. “Whoa!”
Haven’t seen one of those since I was a kid.
A short-haired, pretty woman with lustrous brown skin walked out from the back.
“They won’t harm you.” She stopped right in front of him. “Hello.”
“Sioux Ogwale, this is Alvin Baylor,” said Tosh.
“I’ve heard of the man.” She smiled brightly. “How do you do?”
“I’ve been better. You?”
“Each day is a gift. I finally have the cherry blossoms blooming.”
She was untarnished by the cynicism that permeated the rest of the facility.
“That a plant?” said Alvin.
She nodded. “A tree with beautiful pink flowers. You should see them.”
“It’s difficult to make them bloom?” he asked.
She gave him a shrug. “A little genetic engineering and some love. I have faith they will last through April this time.”
“I’m only here for the week,” said Alvin.
“All right, enough chitchat,” said Tosh. “How’d the bud turn out?”
“You’ll have to tell me. I don’t use the stuff.”
Sioux reached into the front desk and grabbed a small package.
“I will report back ASAP,” said Tosh.
She held the package out to him, and when Tosh grabbed at it, she pulled her hand back. “This does not leave this circle—got it?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
Alvin looked at Sioux. “You taking a real risk?”
“It’s an infraction, but you understand how history can follow a person,” she said.
She face-scanned me.
“I do,” said Alvin.
She handed the package to Tosh.
“Thanks, Sioux. C’mon, Alvin, let’s go see Buzz.”
“Nice to meet you, Alvin,” Sioux said.
Alvin waved. They exited up the sloping corridor. Tosh led with purpose. Alvin trailed behind in the wake of his friend’s enthusiasm. He had Katy on his mind.
By bedtime Alvin was safely ensconced in his room. He had rushed out of the hangout with Tosh and friends to ensure that he would not be among the hostile crowd settling down for sleep shift. He grew drowsy and replayed the audio from Katy again.
Their private little world on The Hope felt like a dream. Earth felt like a dream now, too. He was so far away from everything he knew. The message finished and he found himself looping it again.
God, I miss you.
As her voice looped, he had an odd feeling, as though she wasn’t being entirely truthful with him.
Has she already been fired?
Had he had unwittingly ruined her career?
He recorded a message to her. “Katy, be honest with me. What’s happened?” He had no idea what he could do if she were in trouble, but he needed her to be safe.
She’ll get back to me soon.
He drifted off to sleep with her picture floating ahead of him in space.
In the morning he awoke groggier than usual. He
rubbed his eyes and enjoyed the stillness in his mind. He yawned and stretched out like a cat on the bed. His stomach rumbled and his thoughts turned to breakfast and the food printers.
He woke up his Opti-Comp. Katy was staring back at him.
So beautiful.
Below her picture an anonymous message read, “Come back. Today, I will answer questions.”
Rinsler? Interesting. Beats waiting around for trouble from Henry.
First he’d get breakfast, then some answers from the suddenly forthcoming scientist.
Maybe I can get Buzz to let me use his printer.
Alvin put on his space suit and shuffled outside the room with his helmet under his arm. There was nobody in the crew quarters to give him the evil eye. He walked up the hallway until he reached the surveyor’s bay.
Buzz answered the door. “You again?”
“Can I eat from your printer? I’m not in agreement with the silent doping.”
“Come inside before someone murders you for that fancy suit,” said Buzz.
“Thank you.”
“You know I have special approval for this printer,” said Buzz. “I’m not sure if Corporate would approve.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t. You worried about getting in trouble?”
“Well, yeah.” Buzz grasped the back of his seat. He looked tense.
“Why do you have it, then?” Alvin walked back toward the food printer.
“I’m not comfortable explaining that,” said Buzz. “Why are you so put off by medication?”
“I’m a cyber-athlete. I was never doped as a kid,” said Alvin.
“Oh, well, aren’t you special?” He eased up. “I take other medications. I can’t risk interactions.”
“You want me to wipe the preparation logs?” said Alvin. He toggled through the front display panel on the printer looking for the administration controls.
“Gee, I hadn’t thought of that,” said Buzz. “The settings are locked.”
Alvin pulled the multitool from his belt and selected a Torx head. “There’s a jumper inside to disable the lock.” He unscrewed the front panel and removed a tiny piece of plastic from two metal pins. “There will be no record.”
“All right, then,” said Buzz. “You just want to avoid the mess hall, don’t you?”
Alvin Baylor Lives!_A 21st Century Pulp Page 20
