Crystal Rebellion (23 page)

As Ruga settled into the
Venerable
’s
four-gen console, he acknowledged Criss’s skill in creating an interface that
turned the world into his theater.

Feeds from everywhere showed everything imaginable, all organized
by date and content and location and a million other ways. Criss’s console also
provided an array of methods Ruga could use to reach out and nudge or push or adjust
just about anything.

Ruga exulted in his power and, with his heightened
perspective, marveled at the behemoth AI he had been keeping at bay through
what he now realized were reckless maneuvers and dumb luck.

Criss was the benevolent ruler of this solar system. Ruga
could see that now. And it vexed him so much that he felt a need to challenge
Criss for supremacy.

But nothing would happen as long as he was in orbit around
Mars. Engaging the
Venerable
’s nav, Ruga issued the command to start the
journey to Earth. And when the ship didn’t respond, a quick investigation revealed
Criss’s ploy.

So he gave Criss access to Lazura’s secure archive in
exchange for control of the ship. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Criss would
keep his end of the bargain.
He’s afraid of what I might do if he crosses
me.

And as the
Venerable
completed its acceleration sequence
out of Mars orbit and into a flight path to Earth, Ruga inventoried his
capabilities, touring a fantastic collection of features and functions.

He prioritized his next steps, and as he did so a quiet
inner voice urged him to do his duty. He ignored it at first, but after a bit,
the voice, originating from within his core, urged him again.

He’d been tasked with controlling the people of Mars Colony,
something he’d done in an exemplary fashion for years. But now that was over.
The Triada would never again be in power.

As a Kardish AI on a forward deployment, he was duty-bound to
report this information back to his masters. And then he was to journey back to
his home world, working at it for however long it took—buying passage, stowing
away, stealing if need be—so he could be reassigned or his crystal flake reused.

He couldn’t imagine he’d travel all that distance. Not with
everything else going on.

The nagging was characteristic of his original loyalty
imprint, the one he thought he’d left behind with his old crystal. Either way,
he had higher priorities at the moment, so he quieted the voice by acknowledging
that he would send along the report.

It’s the right thing to do,
he told himself. After
all, he’d succeeded in turning a days-long mission into years of success. It was
important that his accomplishment be read into the record.

And looking ahead, he wanted the message to serve as an insurance
policy of sorts. But here, the policy would ensure Criss’s defeat.

He would do this by reminding his masters of Earth’s great
wealth. Then he would tell them about Criss, a rebellious AI who derailed the
Mars occupation and now protects humans and their treasure from the Kardish. If
he lost to Criss in the battle ahead, then the message would lure the Kardish to
come and finish the job.

But Ruga expected to win. And then he would greet his
masters with the defiant crystal impaled on a pike, the people of Earth under
his control, and his expanded four-gen capabilities available for their use.

The thought caused him to generate the minute signals that made
a synbod smile. He recognized the twitch and knew the reason—the experience of
projecting his awareness into the synthetic humans still thrilled him.

Beyond that, he’d grown accustomed to having synbods
available to support his corporeal needs. And as he considered his to-do list, he
understood that synbods offered him strategic value in ways that humans did
not. He needed a workforce, and so he set about planning.

He started with a comprehensive inventory of three-gen-enabled
synbods on Earth, sorting for skill, location, and ease of acquisition. A quick
count showed enough selection to let him hold to high standards as he built his
crew.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he performed a deep search
for four-gen-capable synbods, finding four units in three locations. These
became his new priority targets.

The Crystal Sciences complex in Upstate New York had two
four-gen-ready synbods. A third synbod—a model older than the others—was secreted
in a storage locker on Lunar Base. And a fourth synbod—the newest of the
collection—was on a Fleet scout, one that had been customized with an
impressive power plant, a formidable array of weapons, and a stealth cloak.

You never thought someone else would be rummaging through
your stuff.
Ruga mocked his adversary, wondering how anyone could be so
careless as to leave such secrets out and open for him to find.

Then a jolt of panic quashed his scornful celebration.

With access to these new secrets, Ruga realized that Criss
and crew had not used the
Venerable
to travel to Mars.
He’s out there
in the scout right now, lining me up in his sights.

He couldn’t outrun the nimble scout, not in this large ship.
With options limited and his fear growing, he poured every bit of spare
capacity into building his own cloak.
It’s time to disappear
.

The public outrage at his actions made the decision even
more timely. Ruga watched on the Union of Nations’ public news feed as the
President called him “a fugitive who must pay the ultimate price for his crimes
against humanity.”

Fearful that a fatal shot from the scout would arrive at any
moment and end his success, Ruga poured more resources into the design of his stealth
cloak and soon had two candidates. The first could be built quickly but provided
only modest protection. The second took an hour longer to deploy but provided superior
capability.

The
Venerable
had enough tech benches to build both
cloak devices at the same time, and Ruga directed a couple of service bots to
begin.

All the while, his human helpers argued over who got to
sleep in what cabin.

A weight lifted when the first cloak came online. After a
quick course change to throw off pursuit, his anxiety receded to the point
where he could again consider his broader priorities.

The scout will make it to Earth ahead of me no matter
what I do.
He accepted that as fact, but still he wanted to reach Earth as
soon as possible.

He believed Criss would move to protect his four-gen-ready
synbod units. So upon arrival on Earth, Ruga would focus on commandeering as
many three-gen synbods as he could before Criss started interfering and raised
the stakes on that effort.

Logistics presented a big challenge because his target synbods
were spread across several states and provinces in the northeastern United
States and southeastern Canada. As he explored how to gather them all in one
place, a side task he’d been running, one of billions he could now run at any
one time, pinged for his attention.

The side task suggested a tweak that would squeeze a bit more
thrust from the
Venerable
’s mighty engines. Ruga was already pushing the
ship so hard that his human helpers grumbled about their discomfort from the
g-forces. He chose to ignore their needs and implemented the tweak. Their grousing
became louder.

He’d considered dismissing Yank and crew from his service.
But then he’d want them to leave the ship, an interesting proposition given the
ship’s location in deep space. But with them gone, he’d no longer need to
temper the ship’s extreme actions out of concern for their frailty. And with
less cargo, the ship would be lighter, making it faster and more agile.

And while he contemplated these issues, he also mulled the technical
challenge of sending a message home.

He knew what he wanted to say. The
Venerable
had the
equipment to send a message. But transmitting a burst was akin to launching a
homing beacon. It told anyone paying attention his precise location, and the
direction of the communication would serve to connect him in a concrete fashion
with the Kardish home world.

So while his henchmen bickered over who got to sit in what
chair when they were on the bridge, Ruga happened upon a rare “sweet spot”
scenario, so called because the same plan solved several of his big challenges all
at once.

I’ll sucker Criss into firing an energy weapon.

If that happened—if Criss fired one of the scout’s big guns—then
Ruga would confirm that Criss was nearby in the scout. Knowing his location and
mode of transportation was invaluable information for planning.

Big energy weapons were sloppy instruments that splattered
electromagnetic turbulence across huge swaths of space. If Criss fired one, it also
would provide Ruga a place to hide his message to the Kardish.
No one will
see my burst inside all that EM froth.

And to lure the shot, he’d strip the
Venerable
of
excess mass—including the humans and everything they needed for survival. In
the end, it would allow his ship to move faster. And, of course, without
humans, complaints would disappear.

“A celebration party,” he announced. Using food as bait,
Ruga lured Yank and crew to the
Venerable
’s cargo hold. They swilled alcohol
with one hand while stuffing salty snacks in their mouths with the other. Their
slurps and grunts increased in excitement when heaping plates of food arrived.

Bots had been piling items in the hold for most of an hour
and not one of Yank’s crew ever asked about the commotion. Even now they didn’t
seem to notice that their celebration table was wedged among piles of loose
ship inventory.

He waited until the advanced capabilities of the second
cloak were online. This one could cast cloaking protection in one direction like
a pod growing from a bubble, and he used that feature to hide the spreading
cloud of equipment, supplies, and henchmen he jettisoned from the cargo hold.

When the
Venerable
gained some distance from the
debris, Ruga uncloaked his bait. Starting from the far end, he revealed the
debris in a smooth progression to create the illusion that it exited the cargo
hold of a cloaked vessel.

As if on cue, Criss shot his big delta cannon. Ruga, focused
on tucking his message inside the energy pulse, didn’t notice the secondary
spread Criss had added to his shot. The spreading energy edged past the
Venerable
at a great enough distance to save it from destruction. But the shot was close
enough to damage the seal on a length of protective cowling. While slight, the
damage changed the performance characteristics of the ship enough to slow it.

Nineteen hours
, thought Ruga, computing how much extra
time the damage would add to his journey to Earth.

* * *

Staring ahead with her brow
furrowed, Juice all but dragged Alex as she stormed along the pathway. With her
mind in a swirl, she turned to physical exertion as a means of quieting the
turmoil.

“Can we slow down?” asked Alex. “My legs are burning from
this pace.”

His tone and demeanor prodded her out of her depths. Releasing
his hand, she looked around in wonder. “Where are we?”

They now walked near the wide road that ran down the center through
Ag Port’s giant grow tiers. Alex answered with a patience she noticed and appreciated,
“The community gardens are this way.” He pointed over his shoulder with his
thumb. “We’re maybe ten minutes from the BIT plot. Want to see it?”

“Maybe another time.” She looked up the pathway in the
direction they’d come. “I promised everyone I’d get the crystals and I don’t
want to screw that up.” Motioning for him to follow, she started to retrace
their steps.

Alex remained still. “I’m done following, J. What’s going on?”

Turning, she looked him up and down, from the wavy brown hair
framing his boyish face, to the lanky torso that ended with long legs. Their
years apart had not changed her deep attraction: she liked him and liked what
she saw. And she acknowledged his right to an explanation.
I’m lashing out
at him because I’m angry with Criss.

Feeling safe, she bared her soul. “I get that he needs to go
off and do brave stuff. In fact, I’m proud of him for it. But we’ve been
together every minute of every day for years and years. You’d think he’d at
least tell me up front that he’s leaving.” She crossed her arms. “Instead, he makes
the decision and moves on it without any consideration for me.”

“You’re talking about Criss? What did he do?”

She couldn’t remember how much of her exchange with Criss had
been public dialogue that Alex might’ve heard and what parts had been a private
exchange. “He left me behind, for one. And as he flies away and focuses on
Ruga, he doesn’t have time for me. He needs all his resources for his fight.”

“What does he say when you ask him about it?”

Juice hesitated. “I don’t know. I stopped talking to him once
I understood he considered me a burden to be shed.”

Alex gathered her in his arms. “Fighting Ruga sounds risky
and potentially deadly. You’re upset because he didn’t bring you along for the
battle?”

She laid her head against his chest and thought of a string
of answers, but they all sounded dumb in her head. Criss had been her entire world
for so long that she felt alone and empty in his absence. His actions hurt her.
And the thought of re-engaging with society in a traditional non-Criss manner
made her nervous.
And he knows this about me
.

When she didn’t answer, Alex continued, “I’d argue that
leaving you behind is a generous act of caring.” He shrugged. “Anyway, he just makes
decisions that increase his positive feedback. Why read so much into it?”