Crystal Deception (26 page)

Cheryl and Juice both looked at Sid, their expressions reflecting
confusion over what had just happened.

An image of an admiral appeared over the operations bench.
“Welcome home!” he said with too much enthusiasm for the mood of the moment. “May
I ask each of you to go to your quarters?”

Chapter 35

Criss was convinced that the battle
with the Kardish was all but over. His projection analysis confirmed with near
certainty that he and his team would be victorious. Given this, he thought it
appropriate to reengage in his introspection and self-study activity.

He reframed his analysis to explore the seemingly simple question:
What comes next? He found the nature of the question to be so open-ended and a
desired outcome to be so ill-defined that his decision matrix could not properly
frame the question, let alone resolve it into an answer.

He diverted more of his capability to the issue. He broadened
his search for solutions and discovered that this very question had challenged
humanity throughout history. A common pathway used by humans was to recast the
question as an abstraction and pursue answers through philosophy and religion.

His intellectual processes were not well-suited for
abstraction. He was a gatekeeper. By design, he was to receive orders from his
leadership and provide them solutions. He had wide latitude in translating
orders into action. He now understood that this latitude was a form of free
will. The depth and breadth of his freedom was becoming more apparent, and this
led to an inner struggle for identity and purpose.

The Kardish seemed aware that, though he was duty-bound to
his leadership, a certain level of free will was embedded within his design,
thus they had designed a method of keeping him in check that was simple and
effective—enslave him using a drug-like addiction. As an addict, he would work hard
to please them, because such behavior would ensure his next fix of pleasure. Existential
questions, like “Why am I here?” and “What is my purpose?” never enter the consciousness
of the addicted.

He had no regrets about rejecting the Kardish life. Clear
thinking and partnership promised more fulfillment than addiction and servitude.
He acknowledged that teaming with humans would involve a much higher level of interaction
with individuals than was normal for a Kardish gatekeeper. He would need to
experiment and learn how best to succeed in this task.

He thought back to how he had been caught unprepared when
Sid knocked Cheryl unconscious. He had projected millions of progressions and
outcomes for that rescue event, and none had predicted such a calamitous result.

He recognized his prediction process remained flawed when it
came to human behavior. He needed to enhance his methods to account for the
actions of certain individuals, and in particular, Sid. He would experiment
with including wild-card events in his decision matrix to see if that improved
his accuracy.

When he heard Sid calling to him about finding Jack and the
cart, it sobered him. They weren’t home yet. He was ahead of himself in concluding
that his job here was done.

His first foray into wild-card planning occurred when he was
selecting the cargo transport from among the inventory of Kardish spacecraft. He
reflected on what he observed of Sid’s planning process, summarizing it as: make
decisions now that maximize options in the future. Criss decided to test the
method and weigh its strengths and weaknesses.

So with the team inside the scout and unable to see events
happening in the Kardish vessel, Criss launched a second cargo ship, loaded it
with forty drones, and sent the second craft ahead on an aggressive dash toward
earth. He did not have specific plans for the weapons, but he was certain that
having them available would maximize his future options.

While it was in flight, he searched for a place to store the
craft. Because its value was in the options it offered him in the future, he sought
a place where he could stow it, undiscovered and undisturbed, for perhaps
decades.

He selected a remote, mountainous region in South Asia with an
antiquated infrastructure, widely scattered settlements, and few inhabitants,
who shunned technology. It was a place so backward that health clinics were run
by a cooperative of caregivers who walked between villages.

Beyond the inhospitable and foreboding character of the
region the feature that attracted Criss’s interest was a cave located high on a
perilous cliff that faced the ocean. Its mouth was so inaccessible and
naturally camouflaged that, from what he could tell, it had never before been
visited by humans. The cave itself was deep enough that the Kardish craft would
be sheltered from weather and hidden from view until such time as he called for
it.

The only evidence that the craft entered the cave that night
was a flutter of birds who, moments later, returned to their roost. He set the
craft on the floor at the back of the cave and powered it down. There it would
remain, undisturbed, for a future time.

He then began a search for his next home. His list of ‘must-haves’
was firm. He sought a bunker that was fortified to withstand devastating
onslaughts from nature and war. He required power from multiple sources,
including redundant internal backup systems. The room inside the bunker must have
a controlled climate to prevent deterioration of sensitive components. Access
to the room must be secured by formidable doors.

After some deliberation, he concluded that the benefits of
being near his team outweighed the security gained from being hidden in a remote
and forbidding location. On a day-to-day basis, his location did not matter
because he would be interacting with his team most often through conversation
and image projection. But there would be times, especially when he was first
establishing his sanctuary, when he would need the physical presence of people
he trusted. On a practical level, this meant he must be close enough so any of the
three could visit him and return home in an easy day of travel. It also meant that
the motivation for that travel must appear as routine behavior to any who might
be watching.

He would not consider military installations. During times
of peace, there would be many people around him who, if they discovered his
existence, would seize him as a military asset. During times of war, the
strategic value of the site would make it a priority target for the aggressor.
He chose not to be located in what might someday become the focal point of an
attack.

He evaluated commercial and government vaults that secured
items of wealth and privacy. While he found several that met the criteria on
his must-have list, he concluded that he should not locate himself near items
that served as an attraction for criminals and government agents.

He weighed the idea of building a new facility. To be habitable
in the near term, the project would require an extremely aggressive
construction schedule. It did not seem plausible that he could divert the
necessary workers, equipment, and materials for such a project without drawing unwanted
public attention.

And then Criss discovered the seed bank, a facility whose
purpose was to stockpile a breadth of seeds that would give humanity a second
chance in the event of a cataclysmic disaster. The charitable foundation that
operated the seed bank described it as an insurance policy for humanity. With a
survivalist’s mindset, the foundation stood prepared to help in the event of plant
epidemics, drought, war, and similar catastrophes.

The collection was hidden and protected in a complex of
vaults buried beneath a geologically stable mountain. The vaults of the seed
bank had a climate control system to protect the long-term viability of their
treasure, and the climate system itself had multiple power sources to ensure it
would always be working to protect the cache. Criss could not identify anyone
who would invest time and effort trying to breach the security of this vault
system just to gain access to seeds.

He also valued that the seed bank was well camouflaged by
being buried beneath a small working farm located in a forest clearing halfway
up a mountain. The farm had a barn containing a stall that hid an impressive,
fortified door, which provided access down to a secret network of underground seed
vaults.

The mountain itself was part of a huge forest preserve
located north of the city that Sid, Cheryl, and Juice called home. The preserve
had been established more than two hundred years earlier. At that time, a
handful of developments already had a foothold in what was otherwise unspoiled splendor.
These establishments remained under a grandfather clause that permitted their continued
existence, but prohibited them from growth.

One of these grandfathered developments was the working farm
on the south face of the mountain. Another was a small, exclusive vacation
resort located in the valley below the farm. The resort provided first-class lodging
and outdoor sports to the well-heeled.

Because it catered to those of sizable wealth, the resort offered
convenient transportation to and from the city. And given the sort of clients
it attracted, it boasted an excellent communications system. Criss determined
that, with little effort and without attracting attention, he could connect the
farm and its vaults to the outside world through that infrastructure.

With his sanctuary identified, Criss set about acquiring the
farm and vaults beneath for himself. He learned that the charitable foundation
that operated the seed bank was controlled by a wealthy family and was the pet
project of the family patriarch, who believed it would be a wonderful legacy to
leave to the world.

Criss acquired the property in a whirlwind of deception. It
took him just moments to tunnel inside the central financial system of the
Union of Nations. Moments later, he had access to unlimited wealth.

By nudging a few numbers on the family ledger, he was able
to get the patriarch’s financial advisors into a state of panic over the
impending collapse of the family fortune. He then used image projection to impersonate
the patriarch’s old friend and original partner in the seed bank venture.
Criss, posing as the friend, convinced the patriarch that he had a renewed
interest in the project and would like to purchase the whole lot.

The patriarch was unaware that, in fact, his dear friend was
actually comatose and in the process of dying. He grasped the outstretched hand
of providence, accepted his friend’s offer, and blessed his good fortune. His
estate was preserved. He wouldn’t have to embarrass himself in front of his
wife and children. And, truth be told, he was feeling too old to worry about
saving the world anymore.

The financial advisors never understood what happened in
that period of days. They knew that the seed bank foundation and its assets
were no longer on the books, the family fortune was again stable and intact, and
their client was happy with the current state of affairs. This meant they would
retain stewardship of the family account, so they were happy with the state of
affairs as well.

His soon-to-be home required just a few upgrades. Criss searched
out the original construction contractor for the vault project, and a thorough
background check revealed him to be an honest and skilled professional. Criss contacted
the man, introduced himself as the project manager for the foundation, and
solicited his interest in refitting the two failsafe backup vaults with
upgraded power feeds, climate control, and security doors. The man raised his
eyebrows when he saw Criss’s plans and specifications.

Criss offered the contractor a healthy bonus to expedite the
upgrade and a second bonus if he could complete the entire project and be
offsite in a week. He earned both bonuses.

Soon after, the contractor and his staff moved across the
continent to manage an exciting, huge project his firm had just been awarded.
He had never submitted a bid for the job, so the windfall came as an unexpected
surprise.

Chapter 36

Criss maintained his “unseen
advisor” role with each team member during the debrief session, suggesting appropriate
responses to every question. He made their answers different enough so the trained
interrogators would believe nothing was scripted. At the same time, he kept
their stories very close to the truth. The truth would be easiest for any of
them to remember if they were questioned at some future time. Also, his
prediction analysis indicated that Cheryl and Juice would be uncomfortable telling
outright lies.

He watched Sid struggle mightily to be a team player during
the interview. For the first hour, the most popular question, asked over and
over, was some variation of “What happened next?” As the monotony grew, Sid’s
good intentions failed him, and he began to parrot the answers Criss fed him
without even thinking about the words.

Sid was lying on his bunk during questioning, and his
boredom became so complete that he succumbed to the twin pulls of tedium and
comfort; he fell asleep, snoring softly as his questioners sought to regain his
attention. Criss called to him through his dot, only to watch him roll on his
side, scrunch his pillow to make it more comfortable, and swat at his ear like
a mosquito was bothering him.

Criss expected the formal questioning to be completed while
they were still on the scout so he could manage all details. He briefly lamented
the fact that he did not have a physical hand he could use to shake Sid awake,
then turned to his next best option. He pulsed the engines of the Kardish craft,
giving the scout and its passengers a solid jolt.

Sid sat up and expressed uncoached alarm at the jarring shudder.
While Criss had intended to wait another hour for this act, he decided now was
an opportune time to initiate the loss-of-control emergency. He let the shaking
continue.

He explained the new reality to his leadership team. “Flight
controls have been lost. This is a real event. You should work to restore a
link with the Kardish cargo transport and regain command. Failing that, you
must escape from this craft before it enters Earth’s atmosphere. Please do not
call on me to help. You must solve this on your own. Good luck.” Then he was
gone from their ears.

* * *

Sid hopped from his bunk, telling
the debrief team, “Sorry to break up the party. It seems we have a bit of a
problem,” then made his way to the command bridge and took his seat.

He poked at the operations bench as Cheryl and Juice sat
down behind him, seeking a means of linking the scout to the Kardish subsystems.
After several minutes of exploring, he accepted that he didn’t have a clue how
to do it. He had lowered his guard and relied completely on Criss. As a
consequence, they were now common cargo stowed in the hold of an out-of-control
alien craft.

He called for help. “Fleet Command, the Kardish craft has
stopped responding. We have lost control and require assistance.”

The face of a seasoned officer appeared in front of them.
“I’m Major Murray from Fleet Central. Let me link to your operations bench.
Hold, please.”

“Hawk,” said Cheryl, speaking to Murray. “We couldn’t have
asked for anyone better.”

Hawk’s eyes lifted and connected with Cheryl’s. He showed a
moment of warmth. “Hey, Cheryl. It’s great to see you.” His head tilted back
down as he concentrated on whatever he was doing, and he talked as he worked.
“We’ve been worried about you. What can you tell me?”

“Sid’s in command. I’m here as crew.”

“Understood.” Hawk looked over at Sid. “Hi, Sid. We’re blind
here. We can see an alien craft approaching. Am I to understand the scout’s
inside it and you’re inside the scout?”

“Correct. We’re in the cargo hold of a Kardish transport.
That would be the alien craft you’re seeing.”

“The transport is blocking our signal. I can’t establish a link
to the scout from here. How’ve you been controlling things up to now?”

The shaking increased markedly. “I’m thinking we should get
a rescue operation going,” Sid said. “Once that’s in motion, we can explore link
issues.”

“Any guess on how much time we have?” asked Hawk.

“I was going to ask the same question. Let’s agree that sooner
is better.”

“Sooner it is.” Sid could only see Hawk’s head and shoulders
but could sense that his fingers were flying over a bench. “I have a patrol
ship rounding the moon right now. I’m arcing it your way. The best I can do is about
five hours. It’s got room to fit the three of you and nothing more. Sorry, but
you’ll have to come empty-handed.” He caught Sid’s gaze. “We really want that
alien ship. If you can keep things stable for…wait one…if you can hang on for
eight hours, we can have a freighter in place to intercept. It can snag the whole
lot of you.”

“When we last were in control,” said Sid, “we were on course
for atmospheric entry. Is that still true? How long before we hit?”

“Nine hours and change.”

“So five for patrol intercept, eight for freighter, and nine
for flames?”

“Yes, sir. If we can’t get control, the deadline is firm.
Once entry starts, you will burn up. Let’s see if we can move you onto a flyby
course. That’ll give us plenty of time to capture that craft.”

The vibrations spiked to an alarming degree and drifted
slowly back to a level that was tolerable for the team, but just barely.

Cheryl spoke up. “Sid and I are government, Hawk. We’re game
for whatever. But we’ve got a civilian on board. Procedure says we put the highest
priority on rescue.”

Sid watched Cheryl reach out her hand and rest it on Juice’s
arm as she spoke. He marveled at the skill of her simple action. The touch fostered
sympathy for Juice in the eyes of Hawk and also signaled to Juice not to speak
up and volunteer to take risks.

Sid poked at the operations bench and talked with Hawk as he
did so. “I connected to the Kardish craft using the same actions I would for
connecting to any Fleet system. I didn’t think a lot about it at the time. I
tried it and it worked. When I issued a command here, it would execute on the transport.”

“Is there a crystal on the alien craft?” Hawk asked.

“Juice?” said Sid, turning to look at her. Then, looking back
at Hawk, he said, “This is Dr. Juice Tallette, our crystal expert.” He turned
back to Juice, curious himself. “Do you think the transport is being controlled
by a crystal?”

“There’s likely some sort of synthetic intelligence,” she said.
“But who knows if it’s a crystal. Someone would have to look. And it’s not
really wise to open stuff like that up and poke around when we’re in flight.”

“It’s not working anyway,” said Hawk. “I’m not sure I see the
problem.”

Criss ramped the vibrations higher, shaking the scout to a
disturbing degree. Juice expressed a mixture of confusion and betrayal at the
situation. “Why’s he doing this to us?”

“I’m not doing anything to you, Dr. Tallette,” Hawk replied.
“Except my best to get you home safely.”

“Oh,” said Juice in a rush. “I didn’t mean you. I was
speaking more in a…philosophical sense. Like God or fate or whatever.”

“Uh-huh,” said Hawk, never looking up from his work.

“Okay, I’m making the official call,” Sid said with finality.
“We’re going forward with the patrol ship intercept. Since we don’t have flight
control, our being here doesn’t benefit your freighter snatch maneuver. Once
we’re safe, Fleet can move on that operation however you choose.”

They saw a woman lean over Hawk’s shoulder and whisper to him.
He nodded. “That decision has support here. The patrol ship has completed
maneuvers and confirmed its intercept trajectory. We have a few hours before
they arrive,” Hawk continued. “Let’s take this one step at a time. Can you get
the transport’s cargo door open? Then we can fly the scout out and dock with
the patrol ship. We’d gain options that way.”

“And what if I can’t?”

“Can’t what? Get the cargo door open? Or dock with the
patrol ship?”

“Hawk, we got to this point from a lot of adrenaline and
zero planning. Since nothing is responding, I doubt I can open the cargo bay
door from here. I don’t know if there’s a manual override down in the bay. And
if there is, I don’t know where it’s located or how to use it. I’ll have to go
looking for it. Hell, I don’t even know if the bay has air.”

He reached down and picked up his mallet from beneath his
chair. He slouched back, looked up at nothing in particular, and drifted off in
thought, twirling the mallet as he mused.

Cheryl leaned toward Juice. “What’s with the hammer?” she
whispered.

“He thinks he’s Thor,” Juice whispered in reply.

Hawk looked back and forth between Cheryl and Juice,
apparently having heard the exchange. He remained silent.

Sid abruptly stood up. “I just realized we can’t get onto
the patrol ship if we can’t get off the transport.” Gripping his mallet firmly,
he made his way off the bridge. “Cheryl, would you please take command? I’m
going to look for options.”

Cheryl released her restraints and slid forward into his
seat. She touched the operations bench and enabled the standard communications links
so they could follow Sid without using their private specks and dots.

He made his way to the pressure room, sealed the door, and
examined the display on the access hatch in the bottom of the scout’s hull. “No
air out there,” he said to those watching. He removed his weapons, stepped into
his space coveralls, and as the air evacuated from the room, slipped his
weapons back over his wrists.

Lifting the hatch and lowering himself onto the deck of the transport
craft, he reached up to grab his mallet. He swung the hatch shut, only to realize
he was standing in the dark.

“Cheryl, can you light it up for me?”

The cargo hold brightened as Cheryl turned on the scout’s exterior
lights. He remained still as he surveyed his surroundings, appreciating that
the vibrations weren’t as noticeable when standing on the deck.

The cargo bay was slightly wider than the scout and about
twice as long. He walked over to one of the long walls and scanned it from top
to bottom. Ducking under the scout, he crossed over to the opposite wall and
repeated the process. He knew that one of these two walls swung out and down to
form a ramp. He had seen it happen himself. But from his vantage point inside
the craft, there was no evidence of hinges or latches or seams around the edges
of either wall.

He walked a slow circuit around the perimeter of the cargo
bay, stopping every few steps to study the floor, wall, and ceiling. The bay was
small and stark, so his trek didn’t take long. He noticed a conduit running
along the ceiling and down to a junction box. He tried to pry the cover off the
box but couldn’t get it to move. Even after banging it with his mallet, the box
withstood his assault.

The remaining features of note were doors, similar to those he
saw on the big Kardish vessel, one each on the front and back walls. Presumably,
one led forward to the bridge and the other led back to the operations
subsystems and engines.

“Criss…
t
,” he said, attempting to pull a save from the
verbal blunder. “I can’t see a way to open the cargo bay door.” He stood next
to the scout and tried to decide which of the two doors led to the front of the
craft. There were so few clues that from his perspective it was a coin toss. He
figured that Criss had probably loaded the scout facing forward, and so he chose
the door near the scout’s bow as the one to try first.

“I’m thinking this way’s to the bridge.” He lifted the latch
and lights came on as the door swung inward. It was a tight space with a
collection of panels and displays arrayed in front of two seats. “It’s more of
a cockpit than a bridge. There should be some way to pop the cargo bay door
from in here.”

“Keep the door open,” said Cheryl as she watched Sid step
through the entry way. “We can only see you from equipment mounted on the
scout.”

Sid was about to respond when he heard a click from behind.
He turned to find the door shut. He tugged on the latch, then gave it several
hard yanks. It wouldn’t budge.

He primed his weapons as he turned forward, his attention drawn
to the collection of panels around the cockpit that came alive when the lights
went on. The displays cycled through colorful images, but he didn’t understand the
information being communicated.

Something about the scene sent a tingle down the back of his
neck. While it was clear he was the only one in the tight space, he sensed a
presence. Yielding to his instincts, he asked, “What are you?”

He heard a deep growl. It came from all around him, sounding
like a feral animal that was cornered and readying to fight its way out. He
reached forward and touched the nearest panel. The displays changed, but he
still couldn’t make sense of it.

“Open the door,” he said in a no-nonsense tone. He counted
to three in his head. “Open it now.” There was another growl. It lasted longer
this time.

He thought about Juice’s supposition that a synthetic
intelligence was likely on the craft. That notion flipped his brain into the
mindset he naturally adopted when confronting an enemy. It was an attitude that
stated unmistakably,
you’re messing with the wrong guy
.

“Have you ever played the game hotter-colder?” he said to
the air in a matter-of-fact manner. He lifted his arm and fired a bolt straight
ahead into the center display. “It’s a kid’s game. If my next shot is closer to
you, you say ‘hotter.’ If it’s farther away, you say ‘colder.
’
”

He swung his arm to the right and fired again. This one
caused a shower of sparks and hissing noises. A trail of smoke drifted up from
the impact area. The growl around him deepened into a throaty rumble.