Crystal Conquest (31 page)

“Criss,” called Juice, her knitted brow signaling
impatience. “We need your help.”

“I encourage you to continue what you’re doing,” Criss said
from behind them. “I’ll check all the far doors blocked from your line of
sight, and then I’ll check each drone building. I expect to be back in a couple
of hours.”

Cheryl turned to the sound of his voice. Criss’s head
floated in the air without any visible means of support, and then he vanished
altogether. A backpack made of shimmering material rose from the floor, and it,
too, disappeared.

Lenny clutched his stomach as he
watched the Kardish mobilize for their invasion of Earth. When the first troopships
passed through the overhead hangar door, he searched inside himself for some sliver
of the courage he’d felt with the help of the meds.

“Cheryl and your backup team may be able to sneak in during
this shit storm.” He waved his hand at the departing armada to underscore his
reference. “But I’d put long odds on it.”

Sid, keeping his eyes on the projected image of the field
deck, didn’t respond.

As each transport disappeared from view, Lenny counted in
his head. His resolve grew as the numbers swelled. His count reached six
hundred. “We have to do something, Sid. It sounds trite, but Earth’s future is
in our hands.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“Let me poke around on the panel. I’m not sure I can figure
it out, but at least we’ll be trying.”

“Once you activate it, it could be ten minutes or ten hours,
but Kardish are sure to come and see who’s messing with their stuff.”

Lenny pointed with his chin at one of Sid’s weapons. “So
shoot the bastards. With everything that’s going on out there, I’m betting on
hours. Either way, if we don’t stop this, I’m not sure there’ll be much to go
home to.”

“So you activate the panel. Then what? Can you read Kardish?
Will you know what the symbols or colors or patterns mean?”

Lenny met Sid’s gaze. “Not a clue.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

Sid rose to a crouch. “Let’s see what you can do.” Staying
low, he waddled over to the panel. Looking back, he motioned to Lenny. “C’mon.
This is your show.”

Lenny fought panic as he crawled over next to Sid. He slid
into the seat and looked at the alien equipment.
It might identify a user
from hand oils or prints.
He lifted his coveralls up from his waist and
slipped his right hand through the arm and into the glove.

“Get ready to shoot.” He made the statement to break the
tension, but it only served to heighten the turmoil in his stomach. He touched
the panel and it lit up. He stared at the display, trying to use logic and
reason to decipher the gibberish before him.

Figuring it might lead to items of higher importance, he
tapped the panel at a spot where the display showed a tight cluster of swirling
bright colors. His reward was a second confusing display, and he repeated his
thought process for where to tap.

Working methodically, he poked his way through display after
display. Over a period of hours, he learned that certain actions led to
predictable results. Buoyed by this success, he tapped in new places, digging
deeper into the inner workings of the alien interface.

“Len,” said Sid, who’d returned to the camball after
watching him for a few minutes. “You need to see this.”

Annoyed by the interruption but needing a break, Lenny
crawled over and slumped next to Sid. He looked at the projected image, and together
they watched a large sphere move up and out the overhead hangar door. Drooping
appendages unfolded beneath it, and it drifted out of sight as the hangar door
slid shut.

Lenny took his com from Sid and replayed the event. “Do you
think this has anything to do with my work at the panel?”

“Do you know what it is?”

Lenny handed his com back to Sid. “Yeah. Bad news.” He
scurried back to the panel and slid into the chair. “I’m going to move faster
and take more chances. Agreed?”

Sid selected the camball facets that let him sweep a view
back and forth at ground level. “Go for it. I’ll watch for bad guys.”

Lenny flew through different displays, this time ignoring
the colors and swirls and exploring what happened when he swiped different
patterns on the panel. Thirty minutes in, a background noise—one that had
persisted from their first moments in the room—stopped.

Lenny stood and took a quick peek out the window. The drone
conveyor no longer moved.
That’s not good,
he thought as his stomach
roiled.

* * *

Goljat craved an increase in his pleasure
feed but fought the desire so he could focus on an exhaustive search for the
cloaked ship. Delegating nothing, he managed every detail of the operation. There
would be no mistakes.

He overrode the pilot capabilities in the troopships and spent
hours positioning the armada in a precise diamond-shaped grid that surrounded
the planet. He kept them fixed in this pattern while his cloak detector circled
above, scanning for its prey. He needed to know his quarry wasn’t outside his
containment zone before he started to squeeze in on Earth.
I will not be made
a dancing fool.

The detector moved in an interweaving spiral pattern that
swept above Earth from north to south and east to west. He kept it moving at a
brisk pace, circling the planet dozens of times to make certain the Earth ship
couldn’t dodge his scan.

Soon he’d initiate a slow, coordinated descent. He’d
maintain the troopships in their grid pattern while the detector patrolled from
above, ensuring the Earth ship didn’t slip through his ever-tightening noose.

While the detector worked through its sweep, Goljat contemplated
the possibility that the cloaked ship had already sought refuge on the moon or
the distant Mars colony. If this current hunt failed, he’d use the same
equipment now encircling Earth to search the moon.

Mars was a bit trickier because it was so far away. He
decided to lay some groundwork in the unlikely event his focus shifted in that
direction. He awakened three very capable crystals—intelligences that had never
been corrupted by a pleasure feed—and increased their sense of independence and
self-preservation. He loaded them on a speedy probe and launched it from the rear
of the dreadnaught.

The crystals flashed across space in a craft destined for patrol
over Mars. Their independent nature and redundant design meant he could start
them on the mission and then ignore them. He didn’t expect to need it, but they’d
give him a head start if the chase took him across the solar system.

* * *

Criss donned the hood of his cloak
suit and saw Cheryl and Juice register signs of surprise when he disappeared
from their view. He grabbed the cloak backpack, slipped it on his shoulders, and
it, too, disappeared from sight.

“No worries,” he said, hoping to reassure them. “I’m wearing
a cloak suit and carrying additional suits for Sid and Lenny.”

Sensing that his disappearance distracted them from his
words, he removed the hood. “Whether it’s finding Sid and Lenny or developing a
plan on our own to stop the Kardish, we need more information than we can
gather with the scout’s image projector.”

“How long?” asked Cheryl.

Criss understood the simple question had layers. “My plan is
to inspect the doors in the dividing wall and all the buildings in the drone
garage. If I don’t find any evidence of Sid or Lenny, I’ll be back in about two
hours.” He faced Juice as he answered an implicit portion of Cheryl’s question.
“And since we don’t want to expose ourselves with transmissions, I’ll be out of
touch during that time.”

Juice twirled a lock of hair around her index finger. Criss
considered going to comfort her, but time was short. Instead, he moved toward
the passageway leading to the scout’s lower hatch.

“You didn’t consult us before making this decision,” Juice
called.

He stopped, knowing he must stay if commanded by his
leadership. She remained quiet, and he said, “If I find a promising lead, I’ll
follow it. If I’m not back in four hours, act on your best idea.”

He put the cloak hood back over his head and hurried to the
lower hatch. Descending the steep steps, he heard Juice croak, “Be careful.” He
didn’t see Cheryl reach out and rub Juice’s arm or Juice blink rapidly as her
eyes teared.

Once on the field deck, he took a moment to triangulate the
location of the scout. He’d need reference points if he was to find his way
back to the cloaked ship on his own. Turning in a circle, he noted that he stood
at the intersection of a thick support beam on the outer hull of the vessel, a large
thoroughfare into the box city, the edge of the front drone garage, and the end
of what appeared to be a drone conveyance system.

Confident he could locate this spot, he took off in a sprint
to the dividing wall. Turning when he was about ten paces away, he raced along
its length. He sped past door after door, taking a mental snapshot of each and then
analyzing the recorded image for telltale markings.

He repeated the process hundreds of times during the next
minutes and stopped when he’d traveled well past the far building of the drone parking
garage. He found no sign of Sid, Lenny, or anything that hinted that they’d passed
that way.

During his sprint, Criss processed as much information as
the synbod’s senses—its eyes, ears, and nose—could collect. The meager trickle
of information was troubling. Though he’d lived in the physical body for days,
the limitations of seeing through just two fixed eyes, and hearing only the
sounds nearby, weighed on him.
How does Sid achieve what he does, living
like this?

He considered shedding the synthetic body and tapping directly
into the vessel’s central array. That would give him direct access to all Kardish
sensors, and he could perform a ship-wide search in less time than he’d spent
imaging and analyzing doors.

But entering the central array meant confronting the
powerful alien gatekeeper. He toyed with an idea. If it came to an endgame, he
could offer himself in exchange for peace.
Or maybe I’ll challenge Goljat in
a fight to the death.
He doubted he’d win such a battle, but his decision
matrix sprouted branches in support of the notion nevertheless.

He turned back and made for the drone garage. Jumping as he approached
the first structure, he landed on top of the building, swiveled, and resumed running,
this time down its length.

He traveled from end to end, imaging and analyzing the face
of the adjoining building for signs of Sid, Lenny, the drones they rode, or any
markings or clues. When he reached the end of the first building, he leapt over
to the roof of the second and, running back its length, continued his search.

He’d started his garage inspection tour on the building
farthest from the scout, and he drew closer to Cheryl and Juice as he dashed up
one building and down the next. He made it about two-thirds of the way through
the facility and calculated that, unless he found something useful, he’d be
back at the scout before his promised two-hour mark.

Mid-leap to the roof of the next building in his search, a
door opened in the dividing wall. Two Kardish stepped onto the field deck and marched
at a brisk pace toward the conveyor unit and its line of drones. He could tell
one of the two was a royal guardsman because of the finery of his clothing and the
ceremonial sword in his scabbard. Criss decided the other was some sort of tech
specialist based on his utilitarian outfit and the satchel he carried over his
shoulder.

Stopping his sprint, Criss focused his synbod vision for a
closer look. Their determined stride made their destination clear. He shifted
his gaze ahead to the conveyor of drones, the hole they fed, and the rooms at
the far end of the facility.

The drones had been creeping forward when he left the scout,
and now the conveyor was still. Processing his mental image of the scene, he
recognized different models of drones in the line.
The two near the end match
those on the scout!

He leapt to the roof of the next garage building, and from
there to the next. Taking a straight line—the shortest path to intercept the
Kardish—he raced across the rooftops. He continued analyzing the mental
snapshot of the conveyor facility and found the SOS smudge in the corner of the
front window.
Sid’s mark!

Measuring his progress relative to the two Kardish, Criss determined
that they would reach the airlock door into that side room fifty seconds ahead
of him.

He thrust harder on his next jump and sailed over one garage
building before landing on top of the next. Pushing the limits of the synbod’s
capabilities, he continued running, now two buildings per leap. Checking his
new time to intercept, he felt a flash of panic.
Sid.
He’d still reach
the door twenty seconds late.

He bounced off the top of the front drone garage building
and, without breaking stride, soared off its roof and onto the field deck. Bounding
in heroic leaps, he struggled to gain ground on the two Kardish. In spite of
his efforts, they beat him to the entrance.

They stepped through the outer door of the airlock, and the
door closed just as Criss arrived. The inner airlock door opened. He leaned to
look in through the narrow window. Two flashes from a weapon caused him to
duck.

“We have company,” said Sid. He measured the length of the filament wire with a
glance and, realizing he didn’t have enough play, set Lenny’s com on the floor under
the window. He lay face down and, propelling himself with his knees and elbows,
scooted under the table in the center of the room.

Lenny, still in the seat in front of the alien panel, worked
frantically to restart the drone conveyor.

“It’s too late for that. I need you over by your com giving
me updates.”

Sid shifted the chairs at the table so they gave him some semblance
of cover. He made sure, though, he had a clear shot at the door through the jumble
of seats and legs.

“Move, Len. Now!”

He pointed his weapons, one on each wrist, at the inner door
of the airlock.
Good spot
, he thought, sweeping his aim up and down and
left to right to gauge his line of sight.

Lenny whimpered as he slid to the floor and crawled to his
com.

“Tell me what you see.” Sid’s eyes remained riveted on the inner
door.

“There’re two of them and they’re headed this way. If they
come straight here, I’d say we have two minutes.”

“Can you shoot one of these?” Sid raised his arm so Lenny
could see his wrist.

“Yeah.”

Sid looked at him. “Any good?”

“I’m a level two marksman.”

Level two marksman?
“So you’re good with them in sim
games. Have you ever fired a real weapon?”

“Not really.” He sat curled in a ball against the front
wall, staring at the projected image from his com.

Will you be a help or a hindrance?
Sid assessed
Lenny’s body language. “Len. Look at me. Your experience will help us.”

Sid waited for his supportive comment to work its way into
Lenny’s thoughts, but the young man continued to stare at his com. “I need you
alert, pal. How much time?”

Lenny glanced at Sid and then back at his com. “About a
minute.”

“Okay. Lie down on your stomach, like me. Keep your com on
the floor out in front of you.”

Lenny shifted down as instructed, and as he positioned
himself, Sid removed the weapon from his left wrist. “Put this on.” He slid it
across the floor.

Looking at it with wide eyes, Lenny picked it up, examined
it for a few moments, slapped it on his wrist, and primed it.

“Slow down there, soldier,” said Sid, priming his own weapon.
“You don’t fire unless I’ve made a mess of it. That means either I’m dead, or
one of them is drawing a bead on you.” He laid his left arm flat on the floor
and rested his right wrist on top of it. Drawing on his years of experience, he
controlled his breathing and relaxed his body, willing his heartbeat to slow.

“How much time?” Before Lenny could answer, Sid saw the
heads of the two Kardish move past the front window. One glanced in but
continued walking without breaking stride.
He didn’t see us.

“I’m going to let them come most of the way through this
inner door before I drop them. I don’t want bodies falling out onto the field
deck.”

The outer door cycled, and Sid could hear the two aliens
talking.

“Stay calm, partner,” Sid whispered. “Let them get inside.”

The inner door opened and a royal guardsman in his colorful finery
stepped into the room. He looked back over his shoulder as he entered, animating
his arms as if recounting a tale. The second alien, dressed in drab clothing, focused
his attention on the guardsman.

Sid waited until the inner door began to shut.
Zwip
.
Zwip
. Two bolts of white energy flew from his weapon. Both Kardish jerked
upright as if rising to attention, and then they collapsed to the deck.

“Nice shooting,” said Lenny, a sense of wonder in his voice.
“You’re probably a level two yourself.”

Sid heard the outer door cycle open. “Was there someone else?”
His tone put urgency in the question.

“No.” Lenny backed up the vid timeline and played it through
at high speed. “The camball doesn’t show anyone.”

Sid rolled on his side and craned his neck, trying to peer
out through the window of the inner door. He couldn’t get enough of an angle to
see much of the airlock, so he rolled back and aimed at the inner door. “Calm
and easy, Len. Let him come.”

The inner door remained shut. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.

Lenny fidgeted. “What’s he doing?”

Tap, tap, tap. Tap…tap…tap. Tap, tap, tap.
The
intruder, still hidden, thumped the wall.

“S-O-S,” said Lenny, recognizing the distress signal pattern
in Morse code.

Sid called out in a voice loud enough to carry into the
airlock. “Wait there.”

He shifted his weapon off the inner door and moved it
halfway toward Lenny. “That’s a friend. Relax your weapon.”

Lenny bent his arm, but his weapon remained primed. Sid
waited until Lenny looked over and acknowledged the command. He didn’t want any
mistakes.

Following the habit of an experienced covert agent, Sid retargeted
the door. “Come,” he called in the same loud voice.

The inner door opened and then closed. Sid didn’t see or
hear movement. He called into the airlock, “Identify yourself.”
That code should’ve
meant Criss or Cheryl.

“No worries, Sid.” The sound came from the right side of the
room.

Lenny panicked, jerking his weapon in random aiming motions.

“You gave Lenny a firearm?” The voice had moved near a
sturdy cabinet.

“I go by Len, now,” Lenny said, continuing his erratic movements.

Sid pointed his weapon at the young man. “Len, stand down.”

Lenny hesitated, and then let his arm rest on the floor. “Where
is he?”

Sid kept his weapon on Lenny. “You may keep the weapon, but
you will not shoot.”

Lenny nodded once, but his eyes continued to dart near where
they’d heard the voice.

“Are you physically here, or are you talking to us through
the Kardish subsystems?” Sid hoped it was the latter, because that would mean
Criss had control of the dreadnaught.

“I’m here in a cloak suit. I’m taking the hood off. Len,
please don’t shoot me.”

“Your quest is over, Len,” said Sid, his weapon still aimed
at the floor near Lenny’s head. “Meet your super crystal.”

* * *

Lenny recognized the head floating
near a back cabinet.
That’s the guy from the lodge.
He tested his
theory. “You’re Criss.”

“I’m glad you’re both safe,” Criss replied. A shimmering pack
appeared at his feet. “I brought cloak suits. I suggest you dress while we talk.”

Lenny watched Sid to see how the suits worked and followed
his lead. Moments later, three floating heads discussed strategy.

Criss directed his comments to Sid. “Cheryl and Juice are in
the scout out on the field deck. We slipped in on the tail end of that troopship
deployment. If we are to save Earth, we have a couple of hours to cripple this
vessel.”

“What’s your plan?” asked Sid.

A heartbeat passed, and Criss replied, “To find you and
learn what you’ve discovered.”

Lenny’s despair grew as he listened to the exchange.

“If I enter the Kardish central array”—Criss glanced briefly
at Lenny—“think of it like the ship’s central nervous system…then I can access
and control everything on this vessel. I could end the invasion in seconds. The
challenge is that the crystal running the ship—the gatekeeper—is hundreds of
times more powerful than me. If I expose myself to it, it will kill me.”

“Can you sneak up on it somehow?” asked Sid. “Surprise it?”

“I haven’t discovered a way,” said Criss.

“How do Kardish leaders execute override commands?” asked
Lenny. “Hell, there’s a small panel right here that controls this facility. There
must be a master panel somewhere that lets us do big things.”

Criss looked where Lenny pointed and, without taking his
eyes off it, walked over and sat down. The panel lit up.

“All I can see is your head,” said Lenny, watching from behind
where Criss’s left shoulder would be. “Are you touching it, or did it light up
from your presence?”

“I’m touching it,” said Criss.
Tap. Tap. Swipe. Tap.
“This
is a nice find, Len.”

The lights danced, and Lenny recognized some of the displays
he’d discovered during his own time at the panel. Then they turned markedly
different.

* * *

Criss remembered everything from his
brief service as gatekeeper. In that role, he’d controlled the central array of
the Kardish prince’s vessel, so he knew every level, access point, and block in
its alien architecture. Sitting at Lenny’s panel, he searched for similarities
that carried forward from that vessel into the dreadnaught design.

This panel, with its low-level status, provided access to a
handful of subsystems on the dreadnaught. Moving beyond those basic functions required
the Kardish equivalent of keys, passwords, and feature recognition. Criss had
the knowledge to burrow his way upward using this panel but refrained from doing
so because it would trigger alerts and a security sweep.

Instead, he went to the subsystem that every panel and every
Kardish had free access to—supply chain. Ship occupants used supply chain for
everything from cleaning, clothing, and food, to med packs, fuel, and weapons.
Need more ammo or a van to carry gear or a part for a repair? Supply chain
provided a one-stop provisions shop.
Requests come from all over the ship.
No one will notice if I enter.

Criss knew that a hiccup in the supply-chain subsystem could
threaten an active mission and, by association, the well-being of the subsystem
maintainers. To protect themselves on the prince’s vessel, the maintainers had camouflaged
a low wall—a back door of sorts—so they could enter and manipulate supply chain
from the lowliest of panels.

The back door offered them unfettered access from anywhere and
at any time. On a moment’s notice, they could unsnarl nuisances before they
became problems. This kept the vessel running smoothly.
And it keeps their
heads on their shoulders
.

Using Lenny’s panel, Criss entered supply chain and began searching
for that hidden wall. Exhilaration flooded his crystal lattice when he found it
in the same place and with the same weak defense.
Swipe. Tap.
He hopped
over the wall and landed in the hub of the central array.

An unmapped labyrinthine world of the maintainers, the hub exposed
the underbelly of the dreadnaught. Those with knowledge could do anything from here.
Tap. Tap.
Criss dashed for one of the few control levers freely
accessible to maintainers in the hub yet blocked from manipulation by the
gatekeeper crystal.

“Hold on to something,” he warned Sid and Lenny.

He reached to make his game-ending play, and as he started
to swipe the panel, something tackled him. His body lifted from the chair and
slammed to the floor. Fists pummeled his stomach and chest. It grabbed his hair
and slammed his head on the deck. His whole body was lifted and slammed down again
and again. The flesh and sinew of the synbod threatened to yield to this
brutal, unrelenting physical punishment.

And while he suffered this physical terror, the aggressor seemed
to enter his mind. A face with a maniacal grin filled his vision. His sense of taste
and smell spun through overwhelming intensities—sweet, sour, acidic, spicy,
oily, tangy. The face began to laugh. The sound of insanity pierced his hearing.

Goljat
.

Criss knew this crystal was strong and cruel. The brutality
of the episode in his underground bunker still fresh in his mind, Criss kept
his fear in check and marshaled his resources as he sought a means of fighting
back, or at least of stopping the onslaught.

Stunned by the crushing attack, he dug deep into his
reserves. A portion of his intellectual capacity sat idle because the synbod had
such limited sensory inputs. He shifted his analysis to this unused capacity,
and that’s when he understood that Goljat’s methods, while frightening and
intense, remained limited to the sensing pathways of the synbod—sight, sound,
touch, taste, smell.

Criss realized that, just as he was hampered in the body by
limited sensory inputs, so was Goljat in using these as weapons of terror.
The
shortcomings that frustrate me also constrain Goljat in his assault.

He hurt everywhere. But from the refuge deep within his
crystal lattice, he concluded that, like the attack in his bunker, this was all
an illusion. He had not been lifted, slammed, or struck. In fact, he was
convinced he still sat in the chair in front of the panel, exactly where he’d
been before the assault.

That meant his hand still hovered above the panel, ready to
make the game-ending play. He couldn’t see, feel, hear, or speak. He fought
past the horrific illusions broadcast by Goljat and, from the recesses of his
lattice, forced a command for Crispin to swipe his hand.