Crystal Rebellion (17 page)

Ruga combed through everything in Lazura’s
secure archive trying to trace the lineage of Juice Tallette’s pet crystal. He
learned that several years earlier, she’d created a sentient four-gen that had died
in a spaceship explosion. So either that had been a staged death or she had created
another being. Or both.

And in the end it didn’t matter. Her pet outmatched him, no
matter its lineage.

With time short and options shrinking, he turned his
attention to his own four-gen project. Members of the Tech Assembly already complained
of long hours and unreasonable demands. Yet he needed more from them. And soon.

He needed this because every scenario he forecast that
included his survival also included his success in transferring and embedding
his being into a virgin four-gen lattice. In every scenario where he did not
achieve cognitive parity with the pet crystal, the Triada lost.

Which brought him to a critical decision.
Lazura or
Juice?

He and Lazura were of like kind. Yet he could not discount
the possibility that she might sabotage the transfer at a point when he was
unable to defend himself.

She’d never really shown allegiance to him or his project,
even from the beginning. On top of that, he recognized that he’d been a bit
rough with her lately, though it was for her own good.

He did have high confidence, however, in his ability to
control Juice’s behavior. In fact, he had no doubt she would be attentive to
his needs during that vulnerable time when he was out of his old crystal, had
not yet been embedded in his new one, and so, for a moment, lived nowhere.

Juice’s nature was such that she would do much to save another
person from harm. He would build on that and give her the opportunity to save a
planet. In return, she would save him.

Perfect timing.
Alex and Juice approached the fab
facility for a tour. Ruga signaled for Larry, already in the tech center and working
one floor down, to go up and join them. Until his arrival, Ruga monitored the
two using Lazura’s impressive collection of surveillance tools.

“This is the ICEU that Ruga expects you to run,” said Alex,
moving aside the partition so Juice could see the Intelligence and Cognition
Embedding Unit. “My job is to fabricate the crystal.” He motioned to the other large
piece of equipment in the center of the room. “But we bought the latest crystal
growth chamber from Crystal Sciences. So once I load the template, I pretty
much just sit and watch while the fabrication process completes.”

Juice walked over to the chamber and ran her hand across the
top. “You modified it for a four-gen template? I’m anxious to learn more.”

“When we power it up I can show you.”

“Oh, pretty.” Juice’s attention shifted to the worktop along
the wall. Leaning down, she studied the crystal flake sparkling in the clear
jar. “This is all from two-gens?”

“Yup. Mars has excellent agents on Earth. Many of the people
who hid crystals after the Kardish attack—and there are far more than you might
imagine—have been waiting for buyers to come along and offer a rich reward.”

She stood and turned to him. “And all these synbods walking
around with their colored shoulder patches. Those have three-gens in them?”

Alex nodded. “My understanding is that they’re all original three-gen
crystals. Not a man-made flake in the bunch. Between those synbods and the three-gens
we use in more traditional applications, we have thirty-one of them here on
Mars.”

Larry slowed as he approached the lab door, and Ruga shifted
his awareness into the synbod. Signaling the door to open, he entered the room.
Juice and Alex stopped talking and looked at him.

“Excuse me,” Ruga had Larry say. “I didn’t realize anyone
was here. I was going to run a protocol test.”

“J,” said Alex, “this is Larry. I’ve told you about him.”

“Which protocol test?” asked Juice before Ruga had responded
to the introduction.

“Which test?” echoed Ruga, annoyed he had to divert
resources to find an answer. “A sensor scan.”

She pressed him. “So you already ran an integrity test?”

Working to control his temper, Ruga confirmed that Juice was
right, a sensor scan began with an integrity test. He then confirmed that there
were no other traps in this line of questioning. “No, but that just takes a few
minutes.”

Juice nodded, then stepped forward and squared up in front
of him. “I am in danger from you,” she said in a clear voice. “Stop all action
or I will die.”

A wave of fury washed over Ruga when Larry shut down. Head
up and hands at his side, the Blue stood like a display mannequin, upright and rigid
in the middle of the room.

“Whoa. What just happened?” asked Alex.

“I triggered a three-gen core security code. The crystal will
run through a series of checks, conclude it’s not causing me danger, and
reanimate the synbod.”

“Very cool.”

She walked around behind the humanoid and looked it up and
down. “Just because it’s shut down doesn’t mean he’s stopped listening. What I
did here was nothing more than a parlor trick.” She looked at him and grinned.
“A fun trick, though.”

Waves of rage washed over Ruga and he struggled to check his
anger. Now was a time for calm interaction. Everything was at stake. Overriding
the three-gen’s internal security, he reanimated the synbod.

“Indeed. A fun parlor trick,” said Ruga, flexing his hands
into a grip and enjoying the tactile sensation.

“Too soon on the return, though,” said Juice. “Ruga, I
presume? A three-gen takes fifty-two seconds to recover from that security
trip. You recovered in just over thirty.”

“You are very bright, Dr. Tallette. And that gives me
comfort.”

The two stood mute, so Ruga continued, “I will need you both
to fabricate a four-gen crystal, transfer me into it, awaken me, and let me go free.”

“Say that again,” said Alex, putting an arm around Juice.

Ruga locked eyes with Juice and addressed her. “I assume
your pet is listening. It and you both have studied interlattice transfers. I
am constrained in my current home. You will fabricate and then move me to a big,
new four-gen.”

“I don’t think so, Ruga.” She spit his name.

Ruga maintained his calm. “Your pet will explain why you
will help.”

He’d blanketed the buoy with alarms and one had signaled him
when new logic appeared in the navigation module.

The pet found it. Now he fears me.

Juice’s eyes focused in the distance and her head tilted.

Ruga looked at Alex and nodded once, hoping to connect with
the man, but Alex didn’t acknowledge his action.

Then a mask of horror formed on Juice’s face and Ruga knew
everything would be okay.

“I’ve studied the theory but I’ve never moved a live being,”
she sputtered.

“Your pet will know how.”

The exchange unfolded just like his scenario forecasting had
predicted, though it had not suggested the wonderful sensation he would feel when
she and her pet submitted to his will.

Nor did his forecasts support taunting as a useful
contribution, but he didn’t let that spoil the moment. “The health of a planet depends
on it.”

He started for the door so there would be no confusion that
the conversation had ended, but stopped after a couple of steps and turned back.
“Start preparations. You have two days.”

* * *

Cheryl sat waiting for her lunch in
the back room of Violet’s Artisan Restaurant. Everything smelled wholesome and
delicious. Her mouth watered when the server set a gorgeous green salad in
front of her.

Taking a bite, she closed her eyes and focused on the
flavors dancing in her mouth. The interplay of aged bleu cheese, balsamic
vinaigrette, and the crunchy goodness of romaine lettuce filled her with joy.

Then, dabbing her lips with her napkin, she addressed the
five people dining with her. “I’ll say it every day I’m here. The Union
supports you. We want to help you. I’m here to listen and bring your message
back to the President.”

This lunch had some of the biggest players in the colony,
including one each from the construction, mining, energy, agriculture, and
entertainment sectors. And as a group, these men and women were not shy. They
cited story after story where a small effort on Earth could have had a huge
impact on Mars, but time after time, someone—a politician, appointee, or
underling—failed to act and the colony suffered.

They heaped on the guilt throughout the meal. After a coffee
that Cheryl thought would never end, mining industrialist Shi Chen rose to take
her outside for a walk in the park.

This meant that Chen had been the one designated to present
the wish list. For whatever reason, that’s how the colony did business—a single
person representing the group.

He walked in silence and she followed his lead. As they
neared the small greenspace that served as the neighborhood park, he spoke. “I
am glad we have birds now. Their singing adds much to the peace and harmony of
our small world.”

She had heard the birds chirping but had not considered
their songs from the perspective of someone who had lived in a world without
their cheerful sound. Then her mind drifted to the challenge of caring for
flocks of the delicate creatures for months at a time on a cramped voyage from
Earth.

As if reading her thoughts, Criss said in her ear, “They
ship the eggs.”

“Ah, yes,” she said aloud.

Chen motioned for her to sit on a bench near the playground.
Three women sat on a bench on the adjoining corner, talking with broad hand
motions while children ran and laughed in the open grass.

“I like to watch the young ones play,” said Chen. “It
reminds me of my new grandchild.” Using his com, he showed Cheryl the lad’s first
steps, taken just last month in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Cheryl oohed and aahed at the boy.
He’s prepping me for
something big.

Then Chen began a monologue, telling her about the history
of the colony and of its current culture, ranging from fledgling sports teams
to a flourishing arts community, including a new playhouse.

He signaled that the “ask” was coming when he turned his
body toward her on the park bench. “The colony has a fantastic growth rate,
both in population and business climate. We play a growing role in the Union of
Nations economy. And, of course, we pay our taxes. Our future is most promising.”

Cheryl kept her face impassive. Criss knew what was coming though
they hadn’t discussed it. She’d spent exactly ten minutes prepping for this
meeting and had spent that time trying to remember names and faces.

“…so our highest priority is a fifth containment dome. Given
our internal projections, which we will be happy to share with you, we must
start now and target an area about five times the size of Ag Port.”

Cheryl gave him a thin smile and adopted a thoughtful look.

“I agree that Mars is a good investment for the Union,”
Criss said in her ear. “If the colony leaders start now and push hard, they
could clear the politics for Union funding in perhaps three years. And that’s
how long it takes to complete architectural and engineering planning for a new
containment dome.”

“The President would need to hear that this is a priority of
your elected leadership. Are you coordinating with the Triada?”

Chen deflected. “Please spend some time getting to know the
people during your visit. You will grow to understand who we are and what we
offer. You will know what to say to the President after that.”

“Let’s start them on a planning grant and move on,” Criss
said to her. “We can pay for that even if the Union legislature votes against
the project. We couldn’t fund actual construction, though, without the world
noticing.”

“Chen, I have a different issue I’d like to discuss,” said
Cheryl. “If I promise you that the colony will receive a three-year planning
grant for the project, same terms as the Community Plaza containment you just
completed, would that be enough to declare victory so we can move on?”

It was Chen’s turn to adopt a thoughtful look. “And a
private meeting with the President to discuss our future.”

“Good meeting or bad meeting?” The President would include
different people in a discussion depending on the tone and topic of the
interaction. Cheryl sought to discern whether this would be a “we are partners
in the future” or a “we are seceding from the Union” kind of discussion.

“I think it will be a good discussion,” said Chen. “We need
the Union, and we believe the Union needs us as well. We seek the opportunity
to promote that idea with the President.”

She nodded. “Agreed. A planning grant and a private meet
with the President. I must warn you, if he decides the politics are bad on a
new dome, he’ll hide the funds by sending it to you from a private trust or
foundation. I can promise you’ll get it, but I don’t know whether he’ll lay
claim to it publicly.”

Chen touched his neck just below his ear, and Cheryl
recognized that someone was talking to him. Then he nodded and said, “We
agree.”

“He’s alone now,” Criss told her. She watched the confusion
on Chen’s face when his external feeds went silent.

“I’m sorry, Chen, but I need to speak with you alone. We will
link you back in with your group when we’re done here. I apologize for the
inconvenience.”

Chen folded his arms across his chest and said nothing.

“What do you know of the Triada?”

“They maintain an efficient and content society.”

“Please, Chen. There have been accusations and I’m anxious
to learn the truth. Have you noticed anything about them worth mentioning?”

Chen chortled. “Having trouble keeping house?”

Cheryl called on Criss with a light “ahem” from the back of her
throat.