Crystal Conquest (13 page)

As she saw more of the interior, her impression was that Criss
had transformed the scout from the stark utilitarian military vessel she knew
to something closer to a high-end vacation ship. The wall and floor coverings
were inviting rather than institutional. Splashes of color here and there
softened the ambiance. The food service unit offered a huge selection that
would satisfy any craving. And the chairs looked comfortable.

Crispin led them past the crew cabins on their way to the
command bridge. Juice stopped and reached for a door. “Hey, this is my old
room. I’ll bet it’s a palace now.”

She gasped when the door hissed open. The blood drained from
her face, and her knees went weak. Her mind, overwhelmed by fear, shut down. Leaning
back against the wall, she slumped into a crouch. Wrapping her arms around her
legs, she pulled herself into a tight ball.

* * *

Sid stayed back as Crispin crouched
down, put his arm around Juice, and whispered to her. He continued with his
reassuring words as he helped her to her feet and, supporting her with an arm
around her waist, led her to the community room.

Sid stood aside to let them pass, then walked to the door
and looked in. He felt his own pulse quicken as he absorbed the sight. The two
crew cabins on this side of the hall had been combined into a single large
compartment. The beds, sinks, closets, and everything else that wasn’t floor, outer
walls, or ceiling were gone.

But the room wasn’t empty. Quite the opposite, the space was
now consumed with a frightening contraption, and the oily smell of its various
mechanisms invaded Sid’s nose as he studied it. The machine was really two
identical units—deployment systems of a sort—that started from the far ends of
the enlarged room and slanted down and in toward the center, converging on what
appeared to be an access hatch in the floor that led below deck.

The payload sitting on each of the twin units grabbed Sid’s attention
and no doubt was what had caused Juice to react with distress. Resting on each
raceway, poised for delivery, were Kardish drones. A bit longer than Sid was
tall, he recalled the swarms of these weaponized death machines attacking them in
coordinated aerobatic maneuvers as they’d fought to escape the Kardish vessel.

That drone battle stood out in Sid’s mind as one of the most
intense field actions he’d ever experienced, and that was from the perspective
of someone who’d spent a decade as a covert warrior for the Union of Nations.
Until that episode, Juice had lived in a sheltered world as a lab scientist. He
could only imagine how the trauma of combat haunted her today.

“Why did you let her see this?” asked Sid, the irritation evident
in his voice. After they’d returned to Earth, he’d learned that Criss had “appropriated”
forty drones from the Kardish vessel before they’d destroyed it. He’d kept them
hidden for weeks before he confessed his actions, explaining that his motive
was to have options if the need arose. Apparently, that time had come.

“She’s doing fine now,” Criss said in his ear. “She’s with Crispin
in the community room. With his reassurance and support, she’s regaining her emotional
equilibrium.”

“Not to change subjects when we have this to discuss”—Sid
waved an arm at the mechanical contrivance—“but I’m more than uncomfortable
with the game you’re playing with her heart and mind.”

“It’s Crispin who’s captured her romantic interest,” said
Criss. “I had him created to match my projected image, and she sees him as a
physical embodiment of me. I had forecast this as a plausible outcome, but it
wasn’t my motivation. Our intimacy goes back to my birth. She shares her
innermost thoughts, hopes, and dreams with me, and I support her emotionally
and boost her confidence as she faces the challenges in her life.”

As Criss spoke, Sid walked to the raised end of the delivery
ramp near the wall, peeked up inside a large rectangular box, and saw another
drone positioned to drop in place after the one on the ramp had deployed. He
stepped back and ran his eyes up and down the box, judging its size.

“So we have one on the ramp and four more in the box?”

“Yes,” said Criss, “ten in total,” referring to the matching
unit with five more drones that started from the other side of the compartment.

Bouncing between topics as he walked across the room, Sid
said, “So you knew she might become emotionally invested in Crispin.” He looked
up into the box casing at the top of the second ramp, confirming it, too, held
more drones at the ready.

“I depend on Juice for maintenance issues in my bunker. I
take comfort in knowing my continued existence is now a higher priority in her
mindset.”

“That’s pretty much the definition of manipulation.” As he
said this, Sid felt his temper flare. He faced the middle of the room and said
in a terse voice, “Project yourself. Now.”

The familiar image of Criss appeared in front of him. Sid
glared at the image.

“If she gets hurt from this, I’ll personally connect a
pleasure feed to your housing and hurt you back. However much suffering she
experiences from your game, you’ll feel that pain times a thousand.”

Sid hadn’t a clue how to build a pleasure feed or how to use
it as a torture device, and he was confident Criss knew this. His threat was an
impulsive response to the circumstances. But it did underscore his
protectiveness of Juice and his concern over the awkward budding romance.

Criss tilted his head forward and eyed the ground, and Sid
recognized it as his look of contrition. He wasn’t fooled, but he felt the need
to soften his message. “Human relationships are complicated, Criss. I suggest
you take some time and examine the billions of ways this Crispin and Juice
thing could go wrong.”

As he said the words, Sid suddenly wondered who, between
Juice and Criss, was the true innocent. His thoughts bounced again. “Does
Cheryl have the hots for you too?”

“Cheryl has never met Crispin, and beyond that, my
relationship with each member of my leadership is private. You know I don’t
share or discuss personal matters with any of you. I’ve shared the outlines of my
relationship with Juice to explain what you’ve recently observed.”

Sid stood right next to one of the drones, stretched his
arms out wide, and confirmed it was a little longer than he could reach.
Squatting, he looked at it from different angles. “Do these still have a
three-gen inside?” He was referring to the third generation AI crystals
manufactured in the years before the Kardish made their move to kidnap Criss, who
was the lone prototype of a forthcoming line of four-gen crystals.

Each three-gen from that era possessed intellectual
capabilities similar to Juice’s new crystal inside Crispin. The drone crystals
were trained for death and destruction, however, while the crystal in Crispin
was trained to operate the synbod in a human-like fashion if Criss became distracted
with pressing issues.

“They do,” said Criss. “I’ve retrained them, though. Their
focus remains on battle, but they are now responsive to human direction.”

“And your instructions, of course.”

“Yes, and mine as well.”

Sid squatted down to examine the access hatch in the center.
As he ran his fingers around the edge of the smooth seam, he said, “So a drone
slides down the ramp and through this? Can this deploy fast enough to launch an
attack?”

“This isn’t an attack system. Think more like planting
seeds. You’ll guide the scout into the cavern of an asteroid and, after looking
inside, if you believe it will make a suitable drone staging site, then this
unit will eject a few drones to leave behind. While you travel to the next
site, I’ll run tests from here to further qualify the cavern as a possible
location for the building of a full-fledged attack base.”

Like a dog with a bone, Sid wouldn’t drop the other topic. “So
how would you describe your relationship with Cheryl without violating her confidence?”

Sid thought he heard Criss sigh and decided it was his
imagination. “Cheryl views me as a tool vital to her work. She chats with me on
occasion but treats me like a colleague. She doesn’t share her thoughts and
secrets. Most of our recent interactions relate to the defense array project. You’ll
have to ask her if you want more detail than that.”

The king sat in his private
quarters, feeling both hopeless and helpless.
I’m too old for this
, he
thought as he reviewed the discouraging reports.

He’d left his younger son behind to watch over the realm
while he led the charge to avenge the death of his older son—the idiot who, as
a teenager, had stolen the royal flagship to stage a coup against his own
father, and ended up dying at the hands of a simple people living on planet Earth.
“They did me a favor,” he said to the empty room between sips from his cup.

The reports he’d received from his royal council back home
detailed the considerable attention the young prince paid to his dalliances and
debauchery, and also the long list of the affairs of state he habitually ignored—duties
vital to governing the people and retaining power.

As the distance between his vessel and the Kardish world
grew larger, communication became slower and more cumbersome. It had reached
the point where all he could do was watch, drink, and despair.

The ship shook, and the king’s mood edged to gloom. This one
was gentle, lasting a second or two, but he knew if they didn’t respond, it
would grow worse.

“He’s here,” the vessel’s com whispered to him. Programmed
in his daughter’s voice, that whisper was one of the few things that gave him joy
as of late. He took a long drink, and when he set the cup down, the door
opened. His captain of operations entered and snapped to attention.

The king watched him quiver as he stood and knew he was
about to hear more bad news. He considered taking another drink but instead sat
back in his chair and studied him.

“Speak,” his said, his impatience clear.

“Goljat wants more.”

“I felt it. Tell me something I don’t know.” They’d launched
this mission with great fanfare—a new flagship with a new gatekeeper crystal,
responsible for controlling the entire ship’s operations during flight and
serving as their war coordinator in battle. The gatekeeper, who called himself Goljat,
was by far the most powerful synthetic intelligence the Kardish had ever
produced, dwarfing the capability of their previous generation of crystals—that
which included Criss—by a thousandfold.

As they did with their entire crystal workforce, they used
an addictive pleasure feed to enslave this massive intellect. The practice,
instituted long before the king was even born, was a proven method for ensuring
that a crystal remained cooperative and the Kardish held the upper hand. No
crystal in history had strayed from its orders, because doing so earned
punishment—deprivation of the glorious addictive pleasure that kept it enslaved.

“It demands we increase the pleasure feed to double the
maximum recommended dosage, or it will lower our cloak again.”

“Gatekeeper,” called the king. He knew the crystal was watching
and listening. “You’ve exposed us twice. You know that if we die, you die as
well.”

“More.” Goljat’s word emanated from all directions, and its
tenor was that of a command.

The king took a long pull from his drink, and as the liquid
washed away his emotional pain, he thought,
I have a drunk for a son and a
drunk for a gatekeeper
.

He couldn’t see a way out of the mess. “Give the damn thing
what it wants.” He dismissed the captain with a wave of his hand.

“But, Your Highness, we’ve already detected hints of
impairment at the current elevated feed levels. A further increase will certainly
cause more damage.”

The king stared at his captain, his piercing eyes conveying
outrage that a subordinate would question his orders.

The captain’s quivering increased. “Yes, Your Highness. I’ll
see to it immediately.”

* * *

Cheryl stood at the back of the lunar
defense array command center and watched the action. Anxious to have them gain
experience and intuition operating a proper defensive system, she’d set an
aggressive schedule for retraining the crew.

Hop and Grace stood on the raised platform. They’d hit a
cooperative stride in a matter of hours, and together they now played the crew like
co-conductors leading an orchestra. Hop’s breadth of experience and sense of
presence complemented Grace’s vision for the project and intimate knowledge of
how all the pieces meshed to create an integrated operation.

Not wanting to be a distraction, Cheryl considered watching
the action from a remote location. But she loved the thrill of being in the
room, experiencing first-hand the tense anticipation when an alarm sounded at
the beginning of a drill, and the feeling of shared camaraderie after a
successful response. Grace and Hop proved to be such a talented team that she found
herself enjoying her own learning experience as she absorbed their methods and
strategies for leading the crew.

A private prompt reminded her that coffee time with Juice
was minutes away. She looked around the command center and, feeling encouraged
by what she was seeing, slipped out the door and made her way down the hall.

She entered her quarters and grabbed a coffee from her
service unit.
You’ve earned it
, she told herself as she placed two
chocolate chip cookies on her napkin. She snuggled into the one comfortable chair
in the room, tucking her feet under her as she did so. While she was arranging
herself, Criss said in her ear, “Excuse me, but I…”

“Not now, Criss. If it’s not an emergency, wait until we’re
done.”

She took a nibble of a cookie.
Not bad
, she thought, holding
it out and studying it as the delightful mix of flavors and textures danced in
her mouth. A projected image appeared beyond her hand, and when she shifted her
focus, she saw Sid sitting where Juice was supposed to be.

“Hi, sweetie,” he said.

Cheryl recognized now that Criss had been trying to warn
her. And she knew Sid understood this was an important part of her routine. She’d
explained to him many times—
hint, hint
—that Juice listened attentively
when she spoke. Both she and Juice used the time to bond and share, and by
doing so, they lightened each other’s load and gained the strength to soldier
on. She sat quietly, waiting for him to explain his presence. He got right to
it.

“Something’s come up and I wanted you to hear it from me
first.”

“Your trip to the asteroids?”

“I wanted you to hear it from me second.” He smiled as he
said it, and Cheryl returned his smile with one of her own. She did miss him.

He flipped back to an all-business demeanor. “How’s Hop
working out?”

“You can’t have him back.” As she made the statement, she realized
the harshness of her words and felt pangs of guilt. But she also knew that
another personnel change would set the project back even further. Flustered,
she said, “He’s working out great. He’s smart and experienced. He and Grace make
a great team. Thank you for sending him. He’s a great choice.”

“So your general consensus is ‘great’?”

From the smile in his eyes, she thought he might be teasing
her, but she wasn’t sure and didn’t respond.

“What about Dent and Jefe?”

“I haven’t seen either of them since we were all in their
quarters.”

Cheryl knew Sid had a reason for interrupting her private
time, and she started speculating about what it might be. Her mind raced through
different scenarios, and as her imagination spun up, her discomfort grew.
“What’s this about, Sid?”

“Can we bring Criss in?”

She nodded.

Criss appeared in his favorite overstuffed chair, positioned
so they formed a small circle. He winked a greeting to Cheryl and started a briefing,
giving her an update on Lenny, an introduction to Crispin, complete with several
projected scenes of him in action, and finished with the two unexplained
sightings by a probe out past the asteroid belt.

Always a quick study, Cheryl made the connection. “You want Sid
to check out the anomalies.”

“It’s a legitimate mission,” Criss said. Cheryl thought he
seemed uncharacteristically defensive because he went on to explain details she’d
helped him refine. “We need one of the leadership to undertake the task so I can
actively participate. And that person needs the flight experience to pilot the
scout and the military training to evaluate each cavern for its strategic value.”

“The asteroid project is part of the defense array, so I
should be the one to go.” While she spoke, she thought,
You had me quit my
career at Fleet to run this project, dammit. This is my territory.

Criss looked at Sid, visually passing the baton.

“Here’s the thing,” said Sid. “Either what Criss saw is a
threat or it isn’t. If it’s not, then you’re right. You should be the person to
lead that mission.”

She thought about staking her claim again but refrained. Big
challenges were Sid’s strong suit. She’d hear him out.

“But if Criss did see the Kardish or some other threat, the
equation changes. Parts of the defense array are operational and that’s the biggest
tool in our box right now. We need you there to squeeze everything you can out
of your people and those systems.”

She was being cut out from involvement in the asteroid project
planning, and while she saw the logic in Sid’s words, her resentment faded
slowly. “Is it just one vessel? A group? Are they coming in waves?”

“The probe readings are so tenuous that our planning right
now is motivated by an abundance of caution,” said Criss. “This could be
nothing but a technical glitch. The first sighting indicated an object at the
fringes of our solar system. The second sighting showed it heading in our
general direction.”

“How much time do we have?”

“If it’s real, my forecast is that we have about ten days for
whatever it is to reach the asteroids and three more days from there to reach Earth.”

Her back straightened when she heard the short timeline.
The
defense array isn’t ready. Not by a long shot.
Her umbrage over project
ownership vanished as a wave of doubt crashed into the flush of adrenaline racing
through her body.

When the array crew won a challenge, assumptions about the
Kardish attack were built into the simulation, and those assumptions played a huge
role in whether the battle ended in victory or defeat. They’d guessed about the
size of the vessels, the materials of construction, the strength of their
weapons, the route of the attack, and a hundred other things that would likely turn
out not to be true.

She knew Sid had served for years as an improviser for the
DSA. She believed the thing that gave him an edge in difficult situations was
his reckless unpredictability. Criss played the odds. Sid played to win.
How
long can your luck hold out?
she thought, looking at him with worried eyes.

“I’ll lead the charge from here,” she said. She still saw
herself as a Fleet officer and fell back on her past training and experience to
guide her actions. Standard operating procedures had been drilled into her for
a reason. Her confidence strengthened as she ticked through a list of action
items in her head, and as the list grew, she started shuffling them into a priority
order.

“Thanks, sweets,” said Sid. “Hop, Dent, and Jefe are talented
guys and may be able to provide the defense array more capabilities in the time
we have. They’re loyal as hell and will follow your orders without question. And
of course, Criss will be in your ear the entire time.”

While he spoke, Cheryl’s mind churned and her action list grew
past what she could track in her head. She toyed with her com as she recorded ideas,
sorting them by priority.

A thought stopped her in her tracks. Looking at Criss, she
said, “We need to get my dad in the loop. If Fleet sees the alert level rise
without any foreknowledge, there’ll be confusion on their end. We need everyone
pulling in the same direction.”

“We’re on his schedule for later today,” said Criss.

She glanced at her com and then at Sid. “This is all so
tentative. What should we tell him?”

“Tell him the truth. Criss thinks maybe he saw something.
We’re going to yellow alert just in case. The secretary is a talented guy.
He’ll figure out who to tell and what to say.”

“What’s our timing?”

“I’d ask that we wait until the scout is past the moon and
headed away before we go yellow. I don’t want any of your people becoming
trigger happy and shooting at me. If I see anything even remotely suspicious,
we’ll go to orange. And if there’s an actual incursion, the defense array will
flip to red on its own.”

Criss nodded, showing support for the decision.

Cheryl pulled back in her brainstorming and sought to visualize
the bigger picture. “What’s Juice’s focus?”

“I see Juice staying here and supporting Criss,” said Sid. “She’s
got the skills and his trust. Her job will be to keep him connected and in play
if we do get to a hot engagement.”

Cheryl thought about Sid heading into danger on the scout.
Even
he
isn’t reckless enough to go it alone,
she assured herself. “Who
are you taking with you? I can’t imagine that syntho-guy is the right choice.”

Sid, again looking at Criss, said, “Crispin will stay here
and team with Juice. They’ll be perfect partners, and he makes a damn fine bodyguard
on his own.”

Cheryl felt a surge of alarm. “You can’t take the scout out alone.
That’s crazy dangerous.”

“Yeah. I’ve been considering different options, and I’ve
decided to take Lenny.”

“Lenny!?” Criss and Cheryl said together, the shock apparent
in their voices.