Authors: Doug J. Cooper
Juice was sitting in an overstuffed
chair when the pair arrived. They entered her apartment unannounced, frightening
her to the point where she dropped her reader. She lifted her knees under her
chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling herself into a small, tight
ball. She looked at them with a mix of fear and anger.
“Hello, Dr. Tallette. I’m Tim Deveraux, secretary of defense.
This is Senator Matt Wallace, chair of the Senate Defense Committee.”
Juice recognized them both from that first contact on the
Kardish cargo transport. “I know who you are.” Looking at Wallace, she said,
“You’re Cheryl’s dad. Does she know I’m being held prisoner?”
“Actually, Dr. Tallette, she called me this morning and told
me. I can assure you that this was a rogue operation. Neither Secretary Deveraux
nor I knew anything about it. As soon as we learned of your plight, we came
here personally to apologize, make sure you hadn’t been mistreated, and deliver
your immediate release.”
“Am I free to go?” The hope in her voice was unmistakable.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Wallace. “We have a car waiting for you
outside. It’ll take you wherever you wish.”
Juice hesitated while she considered whether to rant about
her unconscionable treatment. She’d spent long hours thinking about what she
would say if given the opportunity. Now that the moment was here, her practical
side won out. She stood up and made for the door, editing her speech down to
one word.
“Good-bye.” She delivered it in a frosty tone.
“Dr. Tallette,” said Deveraux as she passed. “We owe you
this. I hope you still want it.” He held out his offering.
She eyed the object in his hand with suspicion. It looked
like a small wallet. She snatched it from him without slowing and continued
into the hallway.
When Juice emerged into the sunlight, she shielded her eyes
from the bright glare of day. She saw Sid and Cheryl waiting for her. She ran
to them and they hugged. Sid and Cheryl explained that they had come as soon as
they had learned of her fate. Juice, euphoric from her release, related how
lonely and scary the whole episode had been for her.
Cheryl put her lips against Juice’s ear, so close it looked
like a kiss, and whispered, “Criss will be talking to you soon. The Union is
watching. Listen to him, but don’t speak.”
The secretary and senator emerged from the building behind
Juice. They kept their distance and watched. Cheryl mouthed a
thank you
to
her father, then the three turned their backs on the politicians and walked across
the plaza.
Sid and Cheryl were on either side of Juice. They both had
an arm around her waist and were hugging her so hard they practically lifted
her off the ground as they made for the luxury vehicle provided by the Union. She
climbed into the car and peeked out at her teammates.
“Thank you both. I’ll call soon.”
She turned forward and, as the door latched, said “home” to
the console. The car accelerated. The luxury of the plush interior was in stark
contrast to her previous surroundings. She took in a deep breath and exhaled
hard, seeking to expel the nightmare from her body.
“Hi, Juice,” she heard in her ear. “Please don’t speak. We’ll
have plenty of time to chat later.” Juice looked out the window and watched the
scenery fly by.
“What do you have in your hand?” Criss asked her.
As if seeing it for the first time, Juice considered the simple,
brown wallet she’d taken from the secretary. She turned it in her hand and
looked at it from all angles, then unfastened a tab, opened it, and gasped. Inside
was a silver star. It looked much like a badge a sheriff might wear, except it
was in no way cheap or tacky. In fact, she thought it was beautiful.
On the front, in a simple, attractive font, was etched:
Defense Specialists Agency. She slipped the badge out of the wallet and held it
flat in the palm of one hand while she stroked it with the fingers of her
other.
“Does it say anything on the other side?”
She flipped it like a pancake from one hand to the other and
spun it to read the words. In flowing script, it said: Wonder Woman. Swept by
emotion, she brought her hand to her mouth. She saw the movement of her arm in
the shiny surface, and tilted the badge so she could see her face. She stuck
her tongue out at her image and then flashed herself a saucy grin. She held the
star in her hand and admired it for the remainder of the ride.
The car dropped her at her home. She wandered through every
room, letting the tension ease out of her body as she reacquainted herself with
the familiar comforts of her previous life. She completed her ritual with a long,
hot bath, cleansing her body and spirit of what had come before.
Dressed and refreshed, she puttered in the kitchen, heating
up the stove and cooking a real meal. As she set her plate on the table, a man
appeared in the chair across from her.
She sat down, put her napkin in her lap, and said, “Hello,
Criss. Have they stopped watching already?”
“Yes and no. They’re watching, but they’re seeing what I’m
showing them. I presume you want privacy, so they’re seeing you sit and read
right now. I believe they’ll become quite bored with your daily routine.”
She examined the features of his face as he spoke. “You look
a lot like my dad when he was younger. You did this to make me like you more?”
“I want you to feel comfortable with me. Is this okay?”
“You chose well.” She studied him some more. “I may develop
a crush on you, though.”
Criss smiled. He watched her eat for a bit. Then he asked,
“Juice, would you help me?”
* * *
It was more than a week before Juice was able to move Criss.
She went through the motions of grudgingly accepting a Union offer to lead a
major effort in crystal research. To give her decision a sense of authenticity,
she visited several research and development sites, some twice, before settling
on the one just north of the city Criss selected for her.
She named her new enterprise Crystal Research Intelligent System
Sciences. The sign in front of the facility simply said: CRISS. Criss told her
he thought it was brilliant because the words “Criss” and “AI crystals” would
become further intermingled in the record, creating yet more confusion for
those seeking to track him down.
Juice let word out around the globe that she was assembling an
R&D team and accepting job applications. While the submissions flooded in,
she scouted for a place that could serve as a retreat and meeting site. There
would be many long days ahead, and she knew her research team would benefit
from a place where they could brainstorm solutions to technical challenges,
while also having the opportunity to unwind with relaxing diversions.
Just north of her facility, she discovered an exclusive
resort located in the valley of a huge forest preserve. The facility had a new
owner who welcomed the opportunity to become a part-time conference site and full-time
retreat for a single exclusive client. Both Fleet and DSA analysts vetted the
site and its owner and gave their approval for Juice to proceed with a
long-term arrangement.
The noise and commotion from workers making modifications to
her new research facility was so distracting in those first days that Juice practically
lived at the resort. On her first morning at the forest retreat, she went for a
long run up one of the mountain roads where she discovered a cute little farm in
a clearing tucked into what was otherwise unspoiled forest.
The farm tenants, a husband and wife, were a warm and
welcoming couple. They gave her water, chatted with her about the farm, and listened
to her plans for the resort.
The wife was on her way into town to pick up some supplies.
“I’ll be driving right by the resort,” she said. “Would you like a ride?”
On her second morning, she ran up to the farm to find the
husband waiting for her by the road. He welcomed her, led her inside the barn, gave
her a polite nod, and returned outside. She followed him partway and watched as
he climbed into a vintage truck. The truck edged out onto the road and headed
downhill, disappearing from sight at the first bend.
She turned back to survey the interior of the barn. Criss was
standing by one of the stalls. “Hey, handsome,” she said, walking to him. “Are
you trying to get me alone?”
“Very much so,” he said with the honesty of innocence.
They walked together into the stall, and she followed his
instructions to reveal a fortified security door. He explained that her
identity would be confirmed fastest if she stood in a particular spot and looked
straight ahead. By the time she assumed the proper position, the door clicked open.
She stepped through to find him waiting on the inside. They rode together down
to a main corridor that served as the central artery for an underground system
of storage vaults.
He chatted with her as they wandered past door after door, explaining
how it all was created to store seeds in preparation for doomsday. The
different doors offered a range of security, from the simple to the solid. Juice
looked at the occasional reinforced door and then glanced at Criss with an inquiring
eye. Each time, he smiled and kept walking.
Finally, they came to a truly impressive fortified door, equal
to the one in the barn stall at the surface.
“Ah,” said Juice.
She stood in front of it and the door clicked open. Inside was
the perfect lair. It was shiny, sleek, modern, and offered an obvious place to
house a crystal.
A large cart full of tools and accessories sat in the middle
of the room. “Does the cart have everything you need?” Criss called from the
hallway. He waited while she examined each item on the different shelves.
She finished her inventory and nodded. “I can’t think of
anything you didn’t.” As she spoke, she realized Criss was still in the
corridor.
He resumed walking down the hall in the direction they’d
been heading. “If you could install one of your crystals in that housing at
some point,” he said as she caught up to him, “it would complete the illusion.”
She worked at deciphering that riddle but didn’t say
anything. She followed until he stopped in front of a door so simple it might be
found in any home. He tilted his head toward it. The sign on the wall said:
Flax. She looked at him as the door opened. The light came on, and she saw a
large room piled high with stacks of crates.
“These are flax seeds,” he said.
“Wow. You
are
a thousand times smarter than me.” She
was irked at the way he was unveiling everything in such a mysterious fashion.
She followed him to the back of the room where he pointed at
an imaginary spot on the floor. She moved to the spot, and a stack of crates
and a section of the wall behind them lifted to expose a sleek, modern room
identical to the one she had just visited. A cart loaded with a duplicate set
of tools and accessories was positioned inside.
“If you’ll help me, I’d like to make this my new home.”
“Of course I’ll help.” She became earnest in her evaluation
of the equipment and systems along the walls. “Do you have any concerns?
Anything you want me to check or test?” It was now clear to her that the first
room was a lure designed to attract the attention of anyone who might someday discover
this place.
“Thanks for asking. I’ve performed exhaustive reviews on
every device and subsystem and feel comfortable that all is ready. Compared to
the scout, this place will give me faster access and greater security. All that
remains is for you to physically move me.”
It took a couple of hours for Juice to move Criss into his
new home in the underground bunker. He followed her as she entered the scout.
He thanked her, wished her good luck, and told her good-bye, then disappeared
just as she opened a cover and unplugged a connection. She pulled the crystal
housing out of the scout.
She carried him down to the hidden vault. A portion of her
consciousness recognized that the subterranean world was cold and even ominous when
she was down there alone. But like a surgeon working on a patient with organs
exposed, her attention was consumed by the task at hand.
Criss had done an excellent job of preparation. His housing slid
smoothly into place, and a tiny green light showed that power was flowing.
She was startled when she heard, “Thank you, Juice,” from
behind her. She stood up and grinned. She would have hugged him, but she knew
he was an illusion and she would be squeezing empty air.
Instead, she curtsied and said, “It was my pleasure, sir.”
* * *
When Criss was settled and secure,
he flew the scout, still cloaked, to South Asia and the cave in the cliff.
Since the scout ship’s propulsion system wasn’t as quiet as the Kardish
transport, he kept it hovering offshore. He didn’t have to wait long before a
tropical storm swept through the region.
The rain and thunder provided noise sufficient to obscure that
produced by the scout. He flew the ship into the cave and landed it next to the
cargo transport. Powering it down, he left it stored for a time when he may
again need a mobile home.
* * *
Sid and Cheryl sat with Juice in
comfy chairs in the lookout loft. The highest room in the resort, the loft was
their favorite indoor space. They were sipping coffee after a delicious meal
and watching a breathtaking sunset through the room’s clear walls.
“Come in,” he called in response to a knock at the door.
Criss appeared in the entryway.
“Hey,” said Cheryl. “How are you able to knock?”
Criss lifted his arm and mimed a few knocks in the air in
front of him. With each swing of his wrist, they heard the sound of a solid
knock in their ears.
“I strive to perfect the art of realism in my image
projection,” he said in mock seriousness. He then had his image walk through a
table as he moved to an empty seat. The three burst out laughing at his silly
stunt.